Come, sit at the table.

I went to mass tonight, more for myself than for any other reason. That’s just the honest, selfish truth. I went in part to pay honor on a Holy Day, but I also went because I needed therapy and clarity and assurance.  I needed the hymns and the words to wash over me like rain water and to comfort me that all would be well in the world and with me and my own. I needed to sit and hear the quiet hush of the church before it filled and then I needed to hear the whispers of the parishioners.  I needed to smell the incense and I needed to listen to the sermon.  I needed to walk by Mary’s statue, lit up by candlelight in a dark night sky with just enough stars above to remind me, again, of all that is good and holy.  I needed to stare at her and at the stars, just for a second.  I needed to hold my son’s hand for the hour because he lets me when we are in church.  I needed the grace of the table.

mother maryI needed, I needed, I needed…. There is a selfishness in those words that I openly acknowledge here to you.  But despite that, I was welcomed with an unspoken, “come and sit at the table.”  I was welcomed with a come, with your needs and your selfishness and your worries.  Come, practice your faith in the ways that you do—in the ways that we do.  Come, with your son and bring the gifts to the altar.  Come, sit at the table.

As one of religious privilege, I can talk of my faith and I can practice it, both of which I happen to do rather quietly. I’ve always just thought that was my style with faith—to practice it gently, but I’m wondering tonight if I practice it quietly simply because I can. I have the freedom to practice my faith and I’m met with no opposition.  Sometimes, I’m asked to explain my choices and in those moments, I do so in the best ways I know how while being mindful to respect the person with whom I am speaking.  I’m friends with people of all different religions, with atheists, and agnostics.  And I have realized that everyone walks on his or her own path and journey, and I don’t mind if people aren’t as quiet about it or if they walk a different path from me all together.  I believe in religious and spiritual freedom and I believe in allowing people to sit at their own tables.

touched up dawnI’ve been many things in my almost four decades of life: a practicing Catholic, a non-practicing Catholic, a believer, a doubter, a wanderer, a doubter, a believer, a wanderer. I’ve gone to other churches and found my way back to my childhood one.  No matter what I’ve chosen, I have been allowed to practice what has been right for me.  I have practiced my faith, as it has evolved.  I have gone to church or not gone to church; the choice has been mine to make.  The church stands, there on the hill, and I can go or I can stay home or I can go to nature, my most favorite place to whisper my quiet prayers of thanks.  The bottom line is I can practice my faith in the ways I choose.   And so, I do.  And maybe you do, too, or maybe you don’t; I’m not totally sure what you do because I rarely delve into that here, but that’s just the point.  I don’t care because it is your business.   You do or you don’t.  It’s your choice.  Many of us have religious privilege and we use it.  But, I must talk about this today and so must you.

We cannot stand by and allow someone even to talk about limiting the religious freedoms of others. We cannot and I will not.  Religion is a part of freedom and here we are, in the land of the free.  We don’t have to claim it as our own, but we have to honor the choice for all to practice the faith of their choice—in their ways–and to sit at their own tables.

I’m going to leave you here with this poem I’ve seen popping on up the internet in the past few days and one I have studied for over 10 years with my students when we’ve read Holocaust literature. We must speak out because in reality, we all sit at the same table of humanity.

First They Came

By Pastor Martin Niemoller

First they came for the Communists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Communist

Then they came for the Socialists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Socialist

Then they came for the trade unionists

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a trade unionist

Then they came for the Jews

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Jew

Then they came for me

And there was no one left

To speak out for me.

 

 

 

This essay also appeared on Patheos, Unfundamentalist Christian