Too Close To Stop Now!

On a recent February Sunday at Mass, we celebrated Black History Month. Our pastor, who is Caucasian, donned colorful, African-inspired vestments. After the welcome and gathering, he went down to the aisle and called forth two of the parish’s African-American elders. A tall woman and tall man in African garb joined their hands over him as he humbly knelt for their blessing. At the recessional, they walked side by side with him, in dignity and grace.

As I may have mentioned before, I attend a blessedly diverse Catholic parish, fully inclusive and well-attended by people of different races, ages, genders and sexual orientations, economic means, and ethnic backgrounds. I drive past probably ten or more Catholic Churches to get to this one, and I’m far from unusual. And people from the neighborhood come, too, enriching the community even more. 

A rainbow banner hangs in the church rafters; one that proclaims Black Lives Matter adorns the front fence; a Hate Has No Place Here sign stands firmly on the grounds, and Mary, of course, sits in her grotto outside the entrance.  There is a diverse traditional choir and a diverse gospel choir. Children and adults bring up our collected offerings of items for the neighborhood food pantry and place them around the altar before communion. On the church grounds and a few doors down, there are partner social justice ministries to feed, house, and educate the poor and homeless. There is energy, generosity and spirit all around.

Wow, I often think whenever I’m there: This is what “church” could be! All bases are so generously covered!

Oh…but wait…except one.

Yes, there is a woman leader of prayer to welcome us officially and say a few words about the readings for the day (of course, that has to occur before the Mass).  Yes, there are sometimes female altar servers, lectors, certainly members of the choir. Women more than make up the populations of the parish and liturgy councils (not so sure about the financial) and much of the volunteer service. We’re so close, so very close, to a (albeit, like anywhere else, flawed) perfection. How much would it take – or cost – to have a woman as pastor/ leader/priest?

And, does the richness and power of the inclusion that is there make this glaring absence seem even worse? Does it for you as it does for me? Do you find the description above encouraging or heartbreaking?  Inspiring or frustrating?  Or, at least, motivating —for springtime witnesses and actions and vigils and continuing the work for justice?  I hope so, for in so many ways, we’re too close to stop now.