I belong to two churches. The first I visited last Sunday --it exists in a building that houses pews, an altar, reading missals, a "crying room" for restless children, a baptismal font, confessionals and many other tangible items to allow for the practice of Catholic Christianity. The other church is pervasive -- it exists in the heart of its fellowship -- a group of men and women who are devoted to soberly living their lives one day at a time and following 12 Steps on a path toward emotional healing, personal growth, and spiritual enlightenment. I visit this church every Sunday. There are, to be sure, many overlapping components between these two churches. I cannot say for sure that one is greater or lesser. I cannot say that one is more "legit" than another. I find spiritual benefits to attending both.
I will say the people who sit in the second church (for the most part) are actively working spiritual principles of acceptance, faith, gratitude, forgiveness, and service to others. I will say, perhaps for this reason, the latter church challenges me more than the former.
This morning, I sat among fellows reading about and discussing a principle of inclusivity. The "Third Tradition" of this church states: "The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop [seeking refuge from internal pain through external sources]." The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop poisoning oneself with false promises of comfort and security. To enter this church is to accept that pain and suffering are part of the human experience and to have faith that simply not having to go through it alone might be sufficient to changing (and thereby saving) a life. How stunningly countercultural in a human society that loves to enact meritocracies and restrict inclusion of anything that might pose a threat to the significance of the standing board. Obviously, this membership plan is not desirable for all groups. I certainly would like to believe my lawyer, architect, or surgeon jumped through a few more hoops than merely the desire to call herself a lawyer, architect, or surgeon. But in the case of a club devoted to the spiritual uplift and emotional progress of its members -- why not cheerfully accept any and all who might come walking through the door?
If I am sitting in judgment of another, it is solely because I am terrified of my own shortcomings I see there. When a woman in a recovery meeting shares about prostituting herself so she could obtain crack, I feel no personal shame. Her share does not directly relate to my lived experience and, therefore, I am not bothered by her presence. When someone walks into a meeting desperately needy for the attention and validation of others in the room, I recoil. I cringe. I tense up. I am reacting to that thing in her that I hate in myself. And I want her gone. And this church says, "She has every right to be here. Love her for what she brings to this room. Love her for what she reveals to you about yourself. Love her so that you can love yourself, and we'll go from there."
After the meeting, I went to get coffee with a (relative) "newcomer" whom I am helping to take 12 spiritual steps. We are winding things up with the 4th which states, "Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves." It's been an amazing experience working with someone who is willing to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help her, God. What surfaces over and over (for me as I listen to her) is this axiom that I am bothered by myself when I am bothered by another human being. Judgment is at the top of both our inventories, and it is the starkest indication of spiritual and emotional unrest. I judge in others that (potential, at least) which I hate most in myself.
I am grateful for the messages I received from my second church today. They align entirely with the messages of inclusivity that are talked about in my first church. It may feel comfortable, momentarily, to judge another for the things for which I am afraid I will be rejected and abandoned. But the practice does not point to anything other than a fatal soul sickness within me.
Today I will do my best to choose love over hate. Inclusion over exclusion. Compassion over criticism. Faith over fear.
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