By Kim Novak
Unfolding Spirit
On a Tuesday evening in September, Tom and I found ourselves part of a panel discussion at a local student support organization. The invitation to this panel gave us pause as we knew it would be challenging conversation, but we felt the call to be a listening presence. Following a 1991 documentary film, discussion turned to some difficult topics and history around the Catholic faith.
Many in attendance called themselves “recovering” or ex-Catholics, wrestling with what felt like incongruent truths. On the one hand, they hold gratitude for the Church’s contribution to their sense of compassion, kindness and justice; they miss liturgy, sacraments, and sense of belonging. On the other hand, the pain of rejection, marginalization, and feeling unable to be fully themselves as members of the Church was palpable. Many gave up the wrestling long ago.
What I was not prepared for as we took in these stories was how conflicted I would feel as I acknowledged the wounds the Church has caused and continues to cause.
Then came this question: “Why exactly do you stay in the Catholic Church?”
I would like to tell you that I had a simple, concrete answer: that the faith of my childhood and the Eucharist hold me beyond any doubt. But in fact, I doubt and question often. We are an imperfect Church, full of imperfect humans, with amends to be made and a good deal of needed transformation. Without acknowledging our brokenness, there is no opportunity for growth. I, too, wrestle.
The 1966 documentary, “A Time for Burning,” chronicles one pastor’s attempt to bridge the racial divide during a painful time in Omaha history. An elder of the church, convicted by this message of love and inclusion, implores his wife, “The stained-glass windows, the music, this all adds to the worship … but this isn’t the peace that Christ was talking about, this is the wrapping paper! I think we should try some new ways, June!”
The Church is not a building, nor is it a set of creeds, rules, a liturgical calendar, hierarchy or music. These are the wrapping paper. We, the people, with our God-given and fascinating diversity, are the Church. And through his life of radical inclusion, Jesus calls us to follow in making a place at the table, in the pews, in our communities, and in our individual lives, for all people — no exceptions.
Father Greg Boyle, Jesuit priest and founder of the gang-intervention program, Homeboy Industries, helps us imagine a “circle of compassion,” in which we continue to make the circle bigger until “no one is outside the circle…we stand with those whose dignity has been denied. We locate ourselves with the poor and the powerless and the voiceless. At the edges, we join the easily despised and the readily left out.”
I am filled with longing for this radically inclusive circle, believing this is what Jesus described with the word “Kingdom,” and yet none of us can truly show up as fully ourselves until every other person lives in this freedom. How can our Church go beyond “welcoming” to be a place of healing, compassion, and radical belonging?
Perhaps we start by noticing who is not at the table, not heard nor seen in their wholeness. As grandparents of a severely disabled granddaughter, we notice the absence of disabled individuals — children and adults alike. As we look for the marginalized and misunderstood, we notice the absence or discomfort of our LGBTQ+ community, and the pain of their family members who feel torn between those they love and the Church that rejects them. Immigrants are demonized, living at-risk and unprotected, while racism of all types continues to rear its head in our communities.
There is much inherited brokenness that can’t or won’t be healed in any of our lifetimes. But if we call ourselves followers of Christ, we recognize that “not saying anything is saying something.” We can honestly acknowledge the wounded, and name what we fear or don’t understand. With this clarity, we can then listen with “the ear of our hearts,” remembering that no ideology, belief or dogma outweighs the inherent dignity and lived experience of another human being. This humble stance opens the door to healing and to the ever-widening circle.
Why do I stay? We have a Creator who sends sun and rain to those we judge both worthy and unworthy (Matthew 5:45), inviting and reminding us to be co-creators of this “circle of compassion.” I’m willing to try “some new ways” for the promise and possibility of being a home for all.
(Kim Novak is a member of St. Thomas More Parish in Coralville.)
