On Good Friday, Jenny and I went to services at a Catholic church near Jenny's lesbian neighborhood of Andersonville in Chicago.
Jenny and I have had a lot of discussions about which denomination should be our church home. We take the decision seriously, because we both take religion seriously; Jenny grew up Catholic and went to Catholic school, and though I was baptized in that faith as well, I alternated between mass with my dad and the liberal (and gay-welcoming) United Church of Christ with my mom. As a young adult, I attended a (couldn't be more progressive) Unitarian-Universalist seminary briefly.
We both like the "high church" ritual of Catholicism - but we want children together, and neither of us wants to raise kids in a tradition that both tells girls that no matter how faithful they may be, they can never be priests, and that tells children of gay parents that our relationships and families are immoral.
"I don't want our kids to hear one thing in church and then have us say another thing to them in the car ride home," Jenny said.
But kids are still a few years in our future, so when we're in the same city, we try to go to church together, and we alternate denominations.
On Good Friday, then, it was a Catholic church - though Jenny was worried about taking me somewhere we might not be welcome on such a solemn holy day.
Most Christian churches have an alternate sort of service on Good Friday, the day they commemorate the death of Jesus on the cross. In Catholic churches, this means that there is no mass, so there is more flexibility in the service.
Even so, we were stunned to see a woman lead the service at this particular church. To see a woman standing at the altar. To see a woman holding up the Host during communion. To hear all the parts in the traditional crucifixion story - Pontius Pilate, voices in the crowd, and Jesus himself - read by women.
Most of all though, we were startled to hear the homily, which was all about social justice - and about how all should be welcome in the Catholic church despite theological disagreements, including gays and lesbians.
Jenny grabbed my arm. "What is happening right now?" she whispered.
We were awestruck - and by awestruck, I mean that I was moved to tears.
For an hour, we had a taste of what the Catholic church could be: a warm, welcoming, sacred home that focused on comforting those who are suffering; on righting the situation of those who have been wronged; and on welcoming those who have been excluded.
It was revolutionary.
"If this was what the Catholic church was everywhere, I would convert," I told Jenny, as we left the church holding hands, the priest smiling at us.
Some might argue that a Catholic church that treats women equally and recognizes the sacredness of gay and lesbian relationships is not the Catholic church at all - but I think it is a Catholic church that hews closer to its social justice roots, and closer to the basic principles of inclusion for all that Jesus himself espoused.
In any case, that church did a brave thing, just as it is always brave to ask people to see what could be, instead of insisting that they live with what is.
During the prayers, the women led us to pray for all who are excluded, for all who are hurt by unfair legislation. And afterwards, I added my own prayer - for the world-wide Catholic church to become more like this, to become its own best possibility.
9 Comments for “An Inclusive Catholicism”
posted by Casey on
If that was what the Catholic Church was like everywhere, or even just often enough that this description wasn’t so awe-inspiringly shocking, I might just convert, too. As it is, this protestant is proud to know that there are places like that in the Body of Christ today. Thank you for sharing this story, and good luck with your future decisions about church and family.
posted by Emerson on
Thanks for writing this. Your story not only points to the seeds of hope that Christ planted in the Church – which bear fruit from time to time – but the vast diversity of Christianity – not only among denominations but within them. So many lesbian and gay people feel so alienated by the churches of their childhood – and it must be said this is often because of other anxieties and associations not fully belonging to the church – that they find it useful and somehow comforting to take a totalizing view of religion. Having a living and mature faith, based on compassion and self-knowledge, requires patience and courage. Let’s pray that there will always be church communities that foster such a faith.
posted by Sr. Lyngine Dominique-Marie, AIHM on
There is a tradition of inclusive catholicism that dates back over 300 years with Independent Catholic churches. We (Independent Catholic Christian Church) are one such Church (www.inclusivecatholics.com). We are traditional in our theology, have a range of liturgical worship from traditional to modern (if you were raised Roman Catholic, you would recognize most of our liturgies and prayers–this video gives a glimpse of that: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fzQm_ARAW-U), ordination to the priesthood is open to women and men, and the sacrament of marriage is offered to same-sex, opposite sex, and transgendered couples. Note that we do not “bless relationships” we offer the Sacrament of Marriage to same-sex, opposite sex, and transgendered couples—-sacrament meaning that these relationships are sign and symbol of God’s grace, love, and presence in the world. We do not compromise on this issue. The glimpse you had on Good Friday is my daily reality and one that I hope others will find. Independent Catholic communities are small and our main parish in Philadelphia (St. Mary of Grace) will be hosting a table at SundayOut at Equality Forum in hopes that people will find with us the reality of a vibrant catholic faith lived without barriers.
posted by Rob on
Sr. Lyngine Dominique-Marie, you mean the Old Catholic Chruch that rejected the declaration of papal infallibility during the First Vatican Council and the Treaty of Utrecht? I always considered them more principled than ‘traditionalists’ organzations such as the Society of St. Pius X which accepted the First Vatican Council dogma.
posted by EssEm on
Hate to be a party pooper, but that kind of Catholicism will not survive. It’s local and very eccentric.
If you’re looking for ritual and liberal inclusion, just become Episcopalian.
posted by Sr. Lyngine Dominique-Marie, AIHM on
Rob-Yes, we trace our history back to the Old Catholic Church. In the US, various names are used–Old Catholic and Independent Catholic are two of the most common.
EssEm-It’s survived for over 300 years thus far and is still going strong. The Episcopalian Church doesn’t recognize same-sex marriage as sacramental. It’s not about ritual and liberal inclusion—it is also about the theology of the sacraments.
posted by TS on
EssEm, you’re right to say it’s eccentric and shouldn’t be considered normal or even aspirationally normal, but you’re wrong to say it won’t survive. Like all authoritarian institutions in which the domain is bigger than the tyrant’s stronghold, there will always be dissent. There is always room, not in the main hierarchy but in the periphery somewhere, for those who love the institution for its rich traditions and ties to the community, but disagree with points of dogma.
posted by Jim McCrea on
If you are in san Francisco, be sure to attend Most Holy Redeemer in the heart of the Castro (www.mhr.org).
What was deemed extraordinary be the article author is rather commonplace @ MHR.
posted by Tim on
Sorry to be late with my comment, but I wanted to share a similar experience in my own church, St. Michael’s Episcopal Church in Manhattan. At the Holy Saturday vigil, the celebrating priest, deacon and sub-deacon — the three ministers standing before the altar — were all women. It was a thrilling moment, particularly for many of our longtime women parishioners. I’ll add that most of the acolyte team was gay men, and of the eight or nine people leading the service, at least four were people of color. That’s what full inclusion looks like. Blessings to you all.