A Whole New World

Bob McGinn and his wife, Emily, don�t doubt that both God and love move in mysterious ways.

When Bob first spotted his future wife across a crowded hall in San Luis Obispo in 1970, he knew that the route facing him was littered with social land mines.

He was, after all, a Catholic priest, and she was a divorced Jewish woman, with three children and professional standing in the community.

McGinn was approaching 50, and had been a priest for half of his life. He was losing faith in the institutionalized church he served, and for several years he had been considering drastic action.

"I had known for a long time that the church was a dysfunctional system," he recalled recently. "And it was toxic for me, spiritually. I was, frankly, looking for an honorable way out. But I didn�t leave to get married."

It was no small move he contemplated. Son of Irish Catholic parents living in Syracuse, N.Y., McGinn was drawn into the priesthood at a time when recruitment of young men from Catholic schools was at a high point. Thirty of his high school graduating class went on to become priests.

"It was then the highest honor a son could bestow on his family," said McGinn.

No one questioned the concept of celibacy for priests.

Historically, the practice began centuries ago when the church was trying to rein in widespread debauchery among clerics. It also helped the church protect its properties and its wealth from the grasp of priests� heirs.

From its origin, celibacy became an intractable part of the religious life for Catholic priests.

"Since the church has limited itself to single males, and has stuck with celibacy, it now is trapped by its own policy," said the former priest.

And the result over the years, said McGinn, has been perpetuating a culture of secrecy in which young, untrained, single men have been turned loose on a society of people gravely in need of spiritual advice and guidance.

He chuckled at the idea of inexperienced priests trying to solve problems for people. "Priests are like madmen stretching their hands to clasp the moon reflected in water," he said, reciting a favorite quote.

Watching the church�s current "crisis in confidence" for McGinn is like "watching a grim soap opera."

"There will be change in the church," he predicted. "It will never be the same, and that is good. But it will happen only because the people of the church want it to happen. The Catholic hierarchy will not help."

Upon his ordination into the Holy Ghost Fathers, McGinn immediately entered a caste system--and didn�t even know it.

"The first bishop who shook my hand said, �Welcome to the club.� I had no idea what he meant then," said McGinn.

As he slowly evolved toward a break with the church, McGinn said he "struggled" to keep his perspective.

"Leaving an institution like the church is like getting a divorce," he said. "But I always knew that if I did leave, I would take my priesthood with me. I believe that once a priest, always a priest."

When a superior began to notice signs of his weakening link to the church, said McGinn, he was offered a "vacation" assignment.

"I was redirected to the Newman Center [a Catholic social club] at Cal Poly. I was told to stay at the mission, where I got room and board. I had a car and a small salary."

It was his first week on the job when he met Emily.

Their first real date was at a restaurant in Santa Barbara. Emily ordered a brandy Alexander and promptly threw up on the dinner table.

"You had to love her," laughed McGinn.

For two years they quietly saw one another. But the signs were everywhere, apparently.

"We thought our relationship was sub rosa," said Emily, who was an executive with the local Red Cross at the time. "So we were both shocked when a work associate came up to me one day and said, �Your romance with Bob is the talk of the town.� "

Emily promptly quit her job with the Red Cross, and soon Bob left the church.

They were walking on Morro Strand when Bob asked her to marry him. The couple was married in 1971 at a huge wedding at Beth David synagogue, which Emily describes as "a great gift for me." The rabbi, whom they finally found in San Francisco, arrived wearing a pony tail and tie-dyed shirt, driving a convertible, and squiring a Gentile woman.

"It was the most humanizing thing that ever happened to me," said McGinn.

McGinn participates in a weekly religious meeting with the John 23 Community, a multidenominational group. He still gives the sacraments.

While he�s at the meetings, Emily prowls yard and garage sales.

"Being married to a Jewish woman has changed him from the underwear out," she laughed.

�New Times� news editor Daniel Blackburn can be reached at dblackburn@newtimesslo.com.