I’m sitting in a pew in a one-thousand-year-old cathedral in Dublin, Ireland bathed by an ethereal choir song of organ and voices that rings off the ancient stones majestically, like you might experience at the coronation of a king or queen; listening to a priest, a woman, preaching love and acceptance, calling out the unique challenges of our LGBTQ brothers and sisters, in a country where centuries of struggle and oppression and violence and division continue to weigh on the population, like a medieval millstone, whose forbearers suffered a particularly cruel occupation- their land and rights taken, the practice of their chosen religion banned, economic and educational opportunities denied, where they endured intentional starvation in a famine that left one million dead; where a lingering animosity, born from this dark history, refuses to extinguish, like an unsettled spirit that can’t rest, it makes its presence known when agitated, a subtext that haunts life here and casts a long shadow over most everything;