Rediscovering A Church Where ‘Here Comes Everybody’
I had no idea what to expect as a first-time presenter at the Los Angeles archdiocese’s Religious Education Congress held last weekend in Anaheim. I knew from friends who have attended that the event is huge. This year, the Congress drew some 10,000 adults from across the globe — many who work in ministry — and more than 5,000 youth. What came as a surprise were the emotions the conference evoked.
The first thing I noticed was a blind person lovingly being led by the arm into the main arena at the opening service. Several physically-challenged people had already arrived in wheel chairs. To my right was a section where the deaf enthusiastically signed words to the entrance hymn. Thousands of others — black, white, Hispanic, Asian — stood on their feet, praying and singing unabashedly.
I felt as though I had walked into a scene in the gospels where crowds of the lost, ill, and forgotten come to meet Jesus. Worship leaders on the main stage greeted us in nine different languages. I thought of theologian John Shea’s definition of church: “Here comes everybody.”
I’ve written in the past of my frustration with the institutional church, particularly efforts to exclude certain groups. At this gathering, it didn’t seem to matter if you were gay or straight, married, single or divorced, Catholic or not-Catholic, seeking or devout. All could feel themselves part of the family of Christ.
I was heartened too by the many talks and homilies that challenged us to be a church for the distressed and the disadvantaged. I agree with my friend, the African American playwright Nicole Anderson-Cobb, who writes frequently on faith:
“In most churches, we spend a lot of time policing people’s personal morality, especially when it comes to sexuality, sexual conduct, physical appearance/dress, and individual behavior, respectability and conformity. Yet, on the major questions of our civic life together, too often the church has nothing to say.”
Pope Francis told the clergy early on in his pontificate, “You must be shepherds who smell of your sheep.” I think that goes for all of us. If our hearts are not with the the afflicted, the homeless, the addicted, the imprisoned, the disadvantaged, the refugee, then are we truly “of Christ”?
The theme of this year’s Congress was “Embrace Grace.” It reminds me of a favorite mantra of the poet Mary Oliver, “Put yourself in the way of grace.” Several speakers stressed the importance of practicing attentiveness. Author and psychotherapist Robert Wicks recalled the words of songwriter Bob Marley: “Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet.”
“Look for messages from heaven,” Wicks said, in “a child’s laugh, the kindness of a store clerk, the sound of rain, the courage of someone suffering physically, the beauty of the sky.”
Wicks shared shared a quote from Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel: “You must begin to see yourself as a work of art” in which every word you say and action you take has meaning.
Episcopal priest and author Terry Hershey recalled some questions an African tribal leader once asked him when he was experiencing a spiritual struggle:
When did you stop dancing?
When did you stop being enchanted by your life?
When did you stop finding comfort in silence and stillness?
Great questions to ask ourselves in this season of Lent when we are called to nourish the soil of our inner life.
The need to mentor and care for ourselves as well as others was another theme that occurred repeatedly. I appreciate a story Hershey told about his grandmother — an affirming presence in his life — who always called him “darling.” What if , reviewing our shortcomings, we referred to ourselves as “darling,” decided to forgive ourselves, and begin again?
Oddly enough, I had just read something similar in the writings of the great Buddhist teacher and mystic, Thich Nhat Hanh. Bravo for such resonances between faiths!
This is not to say the chaos and troubles of the world — war, famine, racism, and gun violence— were ignored at this gathering. Indeed, the staff of the L.A. archdiocese was reeling from the loss just a few days before the Congress began of their beloved Irish-born Bishop David O’Connell, shot to death in residence.
In the midst of these struggles, Irish composer Liam Lawton reminded us all of what is essential with his song, “The Cloud’s Veil:”
Even though the rain hides the stars
Even though the mist swirls the hills,
Even when the dark clouds veil the sky,
God is by my side …
I had the privilege of reporting a profile of Liam a few years ago for PBS-TV. He taught me something about humility at the Congress. When I complimented him on an evening concert he and other musicians had given, he responded “I’m only a composer.” I thought, “What?” Then I reflected a bit. Aren’t we all “only” what we are by the grace of God? Yet we also mean so much to others.
I was most grateful as well for the more than 300 people who attended my workshop at the Congress on “Touching the Sacred through Poetry.” It was delightful to see that many others view poetry as offering a clarifying vision for what it means to be human and as an important resource for cultivating an interior life.
The L.A. Congress refreshed and reinvigorated my faith. It reminded me of why I remain a Catholic. It showed me that we are not alone on this journey. Here’s to the next gathering, Feb. 15–18, 2024!
(For more information on the Congress, please visit: https://recongress.org/)
