At this point, Fr. Michael spoke about his attendance of an interfaith service at Augustana Lutheran Church yesterday. The event was to support Francisco Aguirre, who's taken sanctuary at Augustana after ICE agents arrived at his home on September 19th threatening to deport him. Fr. Michael went, in part, because of his passion for social justice. But he left contemplating the genuine hospitality and sense of community that he felt there, even among so many different people from equally as many spiritual traditions, something that the Paulist Fathers also seek to offer through contemporary culture and media.
It got me thinking about why I was there at the meeting, and why I've been attending mass and the inquiry class, as well. The most obvious answer is that I really like to be around spiritual people and places, I always have. And lately, the more I visit, the more I feel like I'm being nourished spiritually, socially, etc., and that it's a good place for me right now in my spiritual journey despite my years of avoiding Christianity like the plague. The few people I've already met seem to truly embody the welcoming spirit that Fr. Michael spoke of; and I also appreciate the parish's focus on social justice.
Social justice is something that's also important to me, including immigrant rights and immigration reform. I have a friend who's in a similar situation. Because my friend, his wife, and their first daughter initially came to this country 'illegally,' and his first lawyer screwed him over by putting the wrong country of origin on his paperwork because it's easier to immigrate from certain Latin American countries than others, he was ultimately denied citizenship despite the fact that he's been living, working, and paying taxes in the US for over 24 years, is an asset to his present employer, has no criminal record, has two children under 18 who are legal US citizens, and has been going through the immigration process since 2005. Now their future is in limbo.
As I was thinking about all of this, Fr. Michael said something that I thought was interesting. While talking about some of the reasons people may not come to mass, he mentioned that people often have the idea that communion is some kind of prize that you get for being good, that if you do x, y, and z you get communion as a reward. If you're not perfect, well, never mind. But he said that's not the right way of looking at it at all. Communion isn't simply a reward for being perfect or following all the rules; it's more like spiritual food for the soul that nourishes us and helps us heal our inner brokenness.
I found myself thinking of the story of Jesus and the adulterer — where he says, "Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her" (John 8:7) — and how Jesus seems to have spent a lot of time with the poor and what many would consider the more unsavoury elements of society, wondering whether it might be because they weren't self-righteous and didn't deny their sins, weaknesses, and brokenness.
To paraphrase something Fr. Michael said, it's OK to be imperfect and to share those imperfections with one another. Communion isn't a reward for the perfect; it's for all of us who are imperfect to commune with one another (and God), and to be nourished spiritually. Just like in AA, acceptance of the problem/our brokenness is the first step towards healing. I got the same sense reading a passage from Thomas Merton's The Sign of Jonas, where he writes of his own imperfections:
It seems to me the most absurd thing in the world to be upset because I am weak and distracted and blind and constantly make mistakes! What else do I expect! Does God love me any less because I can't make myself a saint by my own power and in my own way? He loves me more because I am so clumsy and helpless without Him—and underneath what I am He sees me as I will one day be by His pure gift and that pleases Him—and therefore it pleases me and I attend to His great love which is my joy. (102-3)
This type of communion is subtle and difficult to put into words, however. I don't think it's meant to be a robotic, ritualistic obligation, but a genuine celebration of love, forgiveness, and reconciliation. It's an uplifting experience if we're receptive to it. Maybe many don't come to Sunday mass because they think they're not worthy. Maybe they're missing the spiritual maturity to understand its deeper meaning. Or maybe it's not being presented or received in the same spirit that it was first celebrated, when Jesus told his disciples to, "Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another" (John 13:34-35).
From the Buddhist point of view, one of the big dangers of clinging to rites and rituals in and of themselves is that we eventually sterilize those things of all honesty and efficacy. We tend to fall into the spiritual trap of thinking that just going through the motions is enough, i.e., doing things that may be outwardly correct but not necessarily with the right intentions. And I think that's true in this case, as well.
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.
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