“Neither sexual diversity nor women’s demands for equality are problems. Homophobia and misogyny are the problems.” This is the central thesis of Luz en el armario (Light in the Closet), a new book by Spanish theologian Pedro Castelao.
Published by Desclée De Brouwer in its Biblioteca Manual Desclée series, the 160-page book argues that two forms of exclusion long treated as separate are, in fact, deeply connected.
According to Castelao’s thesis, “repressed and concealed” homosexuality breeds misogyny, while misogyny, in turn, reinforces “strongly homophobic institutional structures and inertia” within the Church.
In his view, this dynamic exposes a contradiction at the heart of Catholic teaching: a Church that proclaims universal love but, “behind closed doors,” marginalizes homosexual people and keeps women out of its decision-making and governing bodies.
Castelao, born in Ribeira, Spain, in 1975, holds doctorates in both theology and philosophy. He has previously published studies on theologian Paul Tillich and on pastoral theology.
Castelao takes as his starting point Pope Leo XIV’s 2026 encyclical Magnifica Humanitas, in which the pope asked forgiveness, on the Church’s behalf, for its historic complicity in slavery, as reported by the Associated Press.
In paragraph 176 of that document, Leo XIV acknowledges that it took the Church nearly 18 centuries to formally and universally condemn slavery — a condemnation not issued until Pope Leo XIII’s 1888 encyclical on its abolition.
Castelao argues this history offers a parallel: traditional Church teachings on homosexuality and women’s equality must be reviewed “thoroughly and urgently,” he says, or the Church will one day have to “ask forgiveness in the future” for them too.
To homosexual believers who conceal their emotional and romantic lives, he offers direct counsel: “Do not hide them.” To women who feel called to ministry, he urges perseverance — to “obey God rather than men” — without breaking from the institution.
The only thing that is truly immutable, he reminds readers, is Jesus of Nazareth himself. “The Church’s doctrine matures,” he says. “If it matures, then it changes.”
In Luz en el armario, you address complex theological questions in accessible language. How can theology be brought down to earth without impoverishing it? What changes when a theologian listens both to the questions coming from ordinary people and to the Gospel?
Theology must always be at the service of the Church and society. Although theologians must, logically, remain anchored in Scripture and Tradition, they must also be open to the vaporous questions circulating in the social and ecclesial atmosphere of the time in which they live.
They must train themselves in the virtue of moving those questions from a gaseous state to a liquid one, and finally crystallizing them into simple formulations and clear arguments that everyone can understand. A straightforward theology does not necessarily have to be simplistic.
What changes when a theologian listens to the questions coming from ordinary people in the light of the Gospel is something Paul Tillich — the German-American theologian (1886–1965) known for his method of correlating theology with contemporary questions — already formulated through his method of correlation: human questions reveal their deepest dimension in their scope and significance, while the Gospel becomes intelligible as the ultimate gift of meaning and hope.
The Gospel is always a source of light for human existence. The problem is that we do not always have the skill to hear its proclamation and its demands in relation to the most serious problems, challenges and concerns of the present.
The subtitle proposes overcoming homophobia and misogyny in the Church. What underlying root do these two forms of exclusion share, and to what extent do they undermine the credibility of a community that proclaims love and the equal dignity of all people?
The connection between homophobia and misogyny runs deep. Indeed, I believe that pointing out this link between the two is one of the main contributions of this book, if it has any.
People generally think that sexual diversity and women’s demands for equality are issues that coincide only because both are current topics, but that they are otherwise completely different subjects with nothing in common.
In the book, I argue precisely the opposite. First, I say that neither sexual diversity nor women’s demands for equality are problems. Homophobia and misogyny are the problems. Those are what need to be addressed.
The others are realities that should be valued and appreciated. Second, I point out that repressed and concealed homosexuality breeds misogyny and that misogyny, in turn, reinforces strongly homophobic institutional structures and inertia.
The Church’s credibility is seriously called into question by this evident inconsistency or cognitive dissonance: it proclaims a message of universal love, a preference for the most disadvantaged, and the inclusion and care of those who are most mistreated and marginalized.
Yet, behind closed doors, it marginalizes and mistreats homosexual people and women who feel called to serve within the life of the Church. It imposes a morality of abstinence on the former, prejudging their condition as an anomaly. The latter, in practice, are generally kept structurally outside the real decision-making and governing bodies.
Could some of the resistance to women’s access to ordained ministry stem from an instinct among gay priests to preserve their power and a protected space? How can this dynamic be analyzed without stigmatizing homosexual priests or making their sexual orientation an explanation for misogyny?
Resistance to women’s access to ordained ministry has multiple causes. The difficulties usually cited are theological, sacramental, historical and even foundational in nature. I do not think that this is the truly decisive level of the debate.
I believe there is a hidden level, an invisible dimension, a much more prosaic underlying reality in which the real reasons are concealed — reasons that, in practice, carry greater force and weight in the Church’s actual life.
It is possible — I would not dare to state this categorically, but I would suggest it as a working hypothesis worth exploring further — that sociological dynamics thoroughly studied in other groups may also occur in certain particularly powerful ecclesial circles.
For the good of the institution and for the mental, spiritual and personal well-being of those involved, these dynamics must be identified, analyzed and evaluated in the light of the Gospel.
Homosexual priests should generally be treated with the greatest care by the community. We should tell them that we love them, that we accept them as they are, and that they do not need to keep hiding their true identities.
We understand the hell of fear, duplicity and inauthenticity in which they live, and we want them to escape it. I insist that the problem is not homosexuality but homophobia. And homophobia is particularly acute among homosexual people who hate themselves because of their condition and cannot integrate it openly and peacefully into society.
It is this self-hating, homophobic form of homosexuality that breeds misogyny, not homosexuality that has been integrated.
The history of the Church’s relationship with slavery reveals contradictions, resistance and profound changes in its moral conscience. What can that history teach us as we reconsider positions on sexual diversity and women’s participation today? How far does the comparison hold, and where are its limits?
In paragraph 176 of Magnifica Humanitas, Leo XIV apologizes for the Church’s lack of insight in explicitly and officially condemning slavery. It took the Church’s magisterium 18 centuries to affirm that slavery was incompatible with the infinite dignity of every human being.
The fundamental principles were there in the Gospel, but it took a lamentably long time to draw the consequences. This is clear evidence — acknowledged by the pope himself — that the Church’s magisterium does not always live up to the Gospel that inspires it in its doctrinal formulations.
This is where I see the main analogy with the two cases we are discussing. I believe that traditional formulations regarding homosexuality and women’s equality in the Church must be reviewed thoroughly and urgently.
We may be facing two cases structurally analogous to the issue of slavery. If that is so, we will be obliged to ask forgiveness in the future for failing to recognize clearly that the infinite dignity of all human beings is incompatible with homophobia and misogyny, which are currently present in the Church, even though large sections of the ecclesial community may not perceive them.
What would you say to a homosexual believer who feels that the only way to remain in the Church is to hide their emotional and romantic life?
I would tell them not to hide it. You cannot live turned away from yourself and in constant denial of who you are. Such denial leads only to psychological disorders, sadness and profound bitterness, making both you and everyone around you unhappy.
I would tell them to seek out welcoming, life-giving spaces within the Church where they are loved as they are, whatever their identity or sexual orientation. Such places exist, and they deserve extraordinary recognition. The day will come when they are fully acknowledged and celebrated, at least as safe spaces in the present.
The Church must reflect very seriously — very, very seriously — on the moral, existential and religious conflict experienced by people who know themselves to be children of God through baptism but nevertheless feel marginalized and humiliated within the ecclesial environment because of their sexual orientation.
Is it the Church of Jesus Christ that truly marginalizes them, or is it a particular ideology that cannot be reconciled with the true Gospel of our Lord? I would tell those people that, despite everything, they should not stop loving the Church or belonging to it.
What would you say to a woman who senses a call to ministry but finds a closed door?
I would tell her to be courageous, to persevere, to obey God rather than men, not to despair and, above all, not to allow hatred, resentment or hostility toward the Church to take root within her.
I would tell her to study as much as she can, cultivate a deep and trusting prayer life, and seek the company of Christians — women and men — who understand her vocation, support her and value it.
I would tell her to love the Church even in its most painful blindness to her most genuine and authentic vocation. And I would urge her to find ways to keep the flame of the Spirit burning without ever breaking with the institution.
I know this is easy to say and that persevering under such difficult conditions is anything but easy.
But I trust in the prophetic power of perseverance, in the persuasive power of the Spirit and in Ecclesia semper reformanda — the Church always in need of reform, a Latin principle rooted in the Reformation era but widely used in Catholic theology. I am wary of impatient reforms that involve anger, rupture and alienation.
Beyond words of welcome, what concrete changes should women and homosexual people experience in their communities?
They should see the miracle of words becoming actions and of simply being one more member of the community, without any kind of difference or discrimination.
Even the well-intentioned steps taken by dioceses that are more advanced in opening up pastoral care to homosexual groups — assigning them specific groups for support and accompaniment — remain a subtle form of singling them out that reveals how far we are from treating the matter as normal.
When will we hear a lector at Sunday Mass who walks and speaks with their usual, distinctive gestures without prompting surprised looks or offensive murmurs? When will we see a woman deacon baptizing a newborn?
You raise uncomfortable questions without needing to wound or pontificate. How can one engage in dialogue with those who believe that reconsidering these issues amounts to betraying the faith?
The Church should be a place where the highest degrees of freedom and authenticity prevail — much more so than in any other group in society.
It should embody the freedom we see in truly great theologians and the authenticity of truly holy people. There should be no subjects among us that cannot be discussed, no taboos that are silenced or allowed to fester through a lack of attention and care. This is especially true when people are suffering deeply because of them.
Dialogue must be based on listening. That is why we must first listen to the victims of homophobia and misogyny in the Church. We must give them a voice.
It is in the light of the Gospel that we must reflect on that wounded voice — obviously, not to inflict further wounds, but to correct what causes unjust harm. In my view, this is an excellent basis on which we can all come together, both those who believe doctrinal change is urgent and those who hold the opposite view.
It is relatively easy to maintain a position when the discussion is purely theoretical. It is not so easy when the injuries and harm caused in practice become apparent. I believe this is where we can and must begin a thorough reform of the Church’s traditional theology on the issues we have been discussing.
Of course, there will always be people who fail to distinguish between faith and doctrine. They are people who do not know the Church’s Tradition and who have identified a particular moment in its history with its immutable essence.
What is truly immutable in Christianity is Jesus of Nazareth. Doctrines that seek, in different times and places, to translate and give concrete expression to his Gospel in each culture and circumstance are necessarily called to improve, change, deepen, grow and, when necessary, correct themselves.
What I said earlier about slavery shows just how relevant this is. Leo XIV himself says in the first sentence of the aforementioned paragraph 176 that the Church’s doctrine matures. If it matures, then it changes. And thank goodness it changes, because otherwise we would still not have condemned slavery.
What first step would make it possible to move from a Church that fears losing its certainties to one that dares to listen and discern?
The first step was essentially taken by the Catholic Church with the Second Vatican Council. The second, in relation to sexual diversity and women’s equality, came recently during the pontificate of Francis.
Let us recall his prophetic response to Ilze Scamparini when she asked him about the gay lobby: “Who am I to judge?”
Let us also recall Fiducia Supplicans — the Vatican declaration issued in December 2023 that permits priests to offer informal blessings to same-sex couples. Clearly, there is still a long way to go.
But I believe the first steps have already been taken. What remains now is to have the courage and determination to continue, little by little, along the path that has been opened, despite the obstacles and difficulties.
As with the issue of slavery, questions of sexual diversity and women’s equality are not passing trends. They are matters of profound humanity that should help us grow in fidelity to the nonnegotiable demands of the Gospel.
This is a translated and edited version of the interview that first appeared on Religion Digital and has been republished with permission.
