I have had a stirring inside of me that has shifted from anger to peace over the last ten days. I attended a Catholic funeral of a high school classmate and was deeply unsettled by words of the priest. Having experienced both the liberal and conservative sides of the church I understand how the church can be both loving and off putting at the same time.

I decided not to let my anger consume me but to heal me. In the past, I shove down my feelings of anger and wish them away. In the present, I am learning to grow from my anger. It has so much to teach me. My wise spiritual director shared with me this week, “anger happens when what is important to us is violated.”

And that’s what happened. There is a part of the Catholic Mass that touches me deeply and that is the Sacrament of Eucharist. Holy Communion for me like God brushing my cheek. At the funeral I attended, I received a slap.

What I have done with this frustration at the church and at the priest is writing what I hope is a loving letter. I understand the rules of the church but I believe that when it comes to receiving the love of God, we don’t need a special title, or a privileged elite invitation and definitely not a long list of rules. All we need is to open our arms, for God’s are already open. Waiting.

When it comes to being angry at the church, man, life in general, or God it does no one any good to bury our passionate feelings. Shutting a door only makes the anger grow. Deepen into a bitter wound.

It is my hope with the letter I have written to the priest, that I am healed of my anger not by his response, but by my actions of speaking from my heart. By my actions of opening a door regardless of how it will be received on the other end, if at all.

So many people in my life speak up for injustice and I usually stand by and watch. That is what my anger has taught me this time, to not stand by, but to speak with love, to speak from my heart.

What is your anger teaching you? What action will you take with loving steps? What door will you open?

 

(Below is my letter, names have been omitted)

 

Dear Father ________,                                                                                                                                               October 17, 2013

 

On October ___, just a couple weeks ago, I attended _______ for the funeral mass of _________. As sad as my heart was to attend the funeral of my high school classmate I walked into your parish with anticipation of receiving a bit of peace that the Catholic tradition has provided me my forty five years. I am a baptized, practicing Catholic who was saddened by words that were spoken on October ___.

With a standing room only packed church I knew from past experience that the Catholic rituals and traditions could be an opportunity for both those who had no connection to the church and to those who did to feel a bit of connection, receive some hope and a bit of comfort.

When it came time for my favorite part of any church service and particularly Catholic Mass, Communion, the words of the presiding priest, and I am only assuming it was you, Father _______, came out like a slap to the face. “This is the time in the Catholic Mass for all baptized and practicing Catholics to come forward to receive communion. If you are of another Christian Faith, please come forward for a blessing.”  (Basically the rest of you stay in your seat was the implied tone, (I left this out of the letter.))

I was stunned. Hurt. Shocked. What about the others? Here we were, a large gathering of souls mourning the loss of a young woman taken far too early from this life and instead of being called forth to receive the Holy Sacrament of Christ’s Body and Blood, we were told only a few of us were allowed. As a baptized, craddle and to this day practicing Catholic I was permitted, but what about everyone else sitting around me? Most people remained standing. Frozen. Uninvited to God’s table. Not good enough.

I almost did not partake in Communion.  But for me Communion is the pinnacle of the Catholic Mass. This is what Church is all about. The coming together, the breaking of bread, Christ’s Body broken open for us all, so I couldn’t just sit in my pew.

I am fully aware of the teachings of the Catholic Church. I understand the rules. The man made rules. But what if instead this was an opportunity to be an inviting, accepting, loving Church who didn’t put parameters on Communion and invited all those who wish to receive. Period. Simply all those who wish to receive. Who knows if more people would have come forward but instead of sounding like a private club member revoking entrance to an elite event I can bet more people would have thought about coming forward.

With all due respect, your job is difficult. Your job comes with “rules.” Giving a Catholic homily to a diverse group of souls takes forethought, care, gentle preparation. I am not expecting you to change the way you do Mass, but I am sharing from my heart that the way mass is done when done from a place of elitism and rejection, less will want to come to the the table. God’s table, where I know all are welcome, baptized or not, practicing or not.

You can’t change your rules, nor the rules of the Catholic tradition, but I do hope there is a place in your heart that can be broken open, just like Jesus did for us at the Last Supper. He broke us open so that we could live and there was no special hall pass required. It was an open invitation.

If you read all of this, thank you.

Thank you for your time. I send you blessings in your work, in God’s work.

Respectfully,

Jennifer Gwinn McGlothern