Several weeks ago I was at the beach with my daddy and step mother. They are both Roman Catholic. On Sunday morning they invited me to attend church with them, and I gladly accepted. I was actually delighted to be able to share in their church with them; both Daddy and Marguerite always attend the Episcopal Church with me, and I wanted to extend that same hospitality to them. Additionally, I am, or thought I was, very comfortable in the Roman Catholic Church and this one in particular. I was reared by a Roman Catholic father and a Methodist mother and until the age of 15 I went to both churches every week. I "knew" Catholic. Further, we have been attending this particular island church for over 40 years. I was not prepared for what happened.
As we entered I thought how wonderful it was to be able to sit with Marguerite and Daddy. I have always been on the altar and have never sat with the two of them. It was a very special time. I easily followed the service and the rhythm of the liturgy soothed me. As I stood reciting along with everyone else, it felt a little bit like when I was in the early stages of pregnancy and no one knew. I had an identity, "a mother to be" that no one knew except Chris, myself and God. Standing there it occurred to me that no one in the building minus my parents and God knew I was a priest. I was responding as a member of the body of Christ. It felt peaceful and right.
During the Eucharistic prayer I began to feel a little more restless, should I go forth for a blessing or just remain seated as I have since I was 15? It never crossed my mind to receive as I have always respected, though not agreed, with the teachings of the Catholic Church. I did, however, feel a draw to go for a blessing; I felt especially close to Daddy and Marguerite, and I wanted to participate with them. I wanted to line up and walk forward with them. The feeling was powerfully intense; it was about sharing worship with my family. As it got close to time for our pew to rise, I noticed how quickly others were moving through the procession to the priest. No one was receiving a blessing; there didn't even seem to be time. It felt rushed and robotic. The struggle within me intensified, to go or not to go? What would the priest do? It was our turn and Daddy turned to me and said, "Aren't you going to come?" I knew in an instance that he didn't mean just come get a blessing but come and be a part of the Eucharist with me. My "I was an altar boy when they said mass in Latin" Daddy, my Daddy who says being Catholic is as much a part of him as being a Virginian, a doctor, a father, and a husband. My daddy who wept on my ordination day and for the first time ever received communion in a church other than a Roman Catholic one. He wanted me to come--to taste and see with Marguerite and him. And my heart broke because I knew while I may be welcomed by him, I was not by the Church. Try as I might, I couldn't stand up; I shook my head and willed my tears not to fall.
As I sat there and looked around my feelings were so raw--I felt excluded, lonely and judged. I wondered how many other people in that place felt the same way? I thought to myself, "Why am I not good enough? Not worthy? I've received six of the seven sacraments--three of them actually in the Roman Catholic church (baptism, first communion and penance). I've been confirmed, married and ordained--the only sacrament I haven't received is Catholic Last Rites. It even crossed my mind that I had received one more sacrament that the priest presiding had--I was married!!!Why was I not invited, not included, not wanted, not worthy? I knew in my head the answer to the questions; I've studied theology enough to know why the Catholic church doesn't have an open table, but the raw feelings weren't driven by my knowledge; they were pulsating through my body from my heart and soul. "How must other people feel?" I wondered. "I know the "reasons" and it, for the first time, is extremely painful. How must people feel who don't understand, who have never been told the 'why' feel?" "Being excluded and not knowing why must feel worse," I thought.Mass ended and we knelt for the final Hail Mary's which I prayed with the congregation, but the closeness, the bond was broken.
The discomfort and pain I experienced that day has not completely left me. I'm not sure how I am going to, or if I'm ever going to be comfortable being in a Catholic Church again. In the past, at weddings, funerals, and other times I was the one who encouraged my non-Catholic friends to respect the teaching of the Catholic Church and not go to communion. I defended the Church and its right to their tradition. Now I no longer feel I can be that person. But my discomfort goes further--much further.
The Roman Catholic church is not the only church with doctrine and traditions that can seem to exclude. I wonder how people who come into my church may or may not feel excluded, unworthy, not good enough. How is the church deliberately or not causing pain? How is the church seen as unwelcoming? What do we need to spend more time explaining or letting go? What doctrines and traditions are we allowing to guide us and which ones are we allowing to constrain us? Do people who come through our doors, who worship with us and who want a place to be loved and belong feel that in our churches?
I don't have the answers; but it's worth asking the questions.
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