All Are Welcome

Los Angeles, California

I can't recall exactly when I first attended Mass at Carmel Mission Basilica, but I remember that Billy and I went with Sandra and John. They were staying with us at the little rental we had on the north side of town. I had attended Mass with them once while I was staying with them at Glenbrook in Tahoe, after attending the Intensive Spanish Summer Institute at South Lake Tahoe Community College (I attended this three times and did manage to gain a superficial knowledge of spanglish). But, back to Mass at the Mission...

We were late arriving and ended up sitting in rather ornate wooden chairs making a row ahead of the first pew at the very front of the church. Sandra leaned over and whispered to Billy, lapsed Catholic that he is, Sorry. She didn't have to apologize to me. I was in awe. I'd been in the Mission before as a tourist. And I had attended Mass a handful of times throughout my life. But from that moment, with the music and the choir and the colors and the incense and all in that beautiful structure, it all came together for me.

But that is not to say that it all came together for me in a way that informed me that Catholicism was what had been missing in my life. There were and are aspects of Catholicism to which I have always felt drawn. But I have had an ongoing problem with organized religion since adolescence, and I disagree strongly with some more political aspects of the Church -- it's position on women's issues, LGBT rights, and allowing priests to marry. But politics disapparated on that day.

After that experience I began to attend Mass regularly when I was in Carmel. There was already a lot going on with my family and in other private areas of my life. Increasingly, I was feeling an absence of and a longing for some spirituality in my life. And, I didn't even know exactly what I meant by that. I just felt something was missing and believed that I would know it when I felt it. And I did.

Mass in Carmel provided me with quiet, prayerful space which, in turn, jumpstarted my growing connection to God. Prayer, and the repetitive responses in the order of the Mass, allowed my mind to focus and pare away all of its usual clutter and noise. It allowed me to do something I can very rarely do, and that is to be still. With my mind focused and alert, I felt something else in my being. A conviction that I needed to have that stillness, that focus in my life. It filled a void that I knew had been there. But how it was filled is still a mystery to me, though clearer as time passes. I don't think it's something that I even need to articulate to myself, and even less so here. It's just something that I know, and what I understand about it is becoming more succinct as my journey progresses.

And in 2010, when my Las Chicas fristers were visiting me there, Lydia accompanied me. Lydia was raised RC but converted to Judaism during her first marriage. Unlike my stammered articulation on this drifting path of spiritualism, she was able to articulate her shift quite well -- saying that the conduit to faith was not as important to her as her faith per se. Also that she liked the fact that Judaism was more about the questions; whereas she felt that when she was growing up in Catholicism you were not supposed to question; rather just accept what you were being told.

And on that first Sunday in 2010 when Lydia and I attended Mass together, the homily was based on a hymn we sang which is entitled All Are Welcome. The homily was given by someone who I believe was a deacon, not a priest. In fact, he mentioned that his children were attending school there at the Serra School. In the course of the homily he implored us to question what was our purpose in life. And to faithfully follow that purpose. I found it a good and interesting message. But Lydia came away with a lightbulb over her head. I think I've figured out what my purpose is, she told me as we were leaving the Mission. I think my purpose is my work to maintain the two families together.  After her first marriage, Lydia married a man with grown children. She brought her young son to that marriage, and now there is a third generation of young children. Lydia is the glue. I could have told her that, but, like Dorothy in Oz, it was important that she realize it herself. She also has a career in special education, and other interests (see post here entitled Shopping, Shopping, and Shopping). But, as she realized that morning, her purpose is clear.

And that is what works about those times. I think going to Mass (or services at your temple or meditation at a Transcendental Meditation center or whatever) is much like purchasing a cookbook. It doesn't even have to be your kind of cooking. But if you acquire one recipe from it that will become a lasting addition to your cooking repertoire, it was worth the purchase price. Lydia got that recipe that day, as I had received it the first time I attended Mass there, and several times since. And that makes it worthwhile.

There is commentary somewhere on line about that hymn, All Are Welcome, which raises the issue that the Church, as well as many other denominations, do not really welcome all. And that is a point well taken. But I have to believe there will be changes coming. And, in the meantime, an epiphany or two on my own spiritual path gives the journey purpose and meaning. And that is a recipe worth repeating again and again.