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Viewpoint On Exodus journey, God brings us together
By ANN NAFFZIGER
Murder, rape, prostitution, drug
addiction, alcoholism, sexual abuse, domestic violence, poverty and cancer.
These are the stories the members of my adult education group were bringing to
our small community on Thursday nights this year as we approached the Easter
season. And when they bring them to the group, they bring them to God, and God,
through us, was holding each person ever more closely en route to their Easter
rebirths.
A dozen people from five different parishes, African-American and
Anglo, 23 to 99 years old, gathered together last fall to find out what the
Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults, popularly known as RCIA, is all about.
Some knew with certainty they wanted to become Catholic. Some wanted to ask a
lot of questions before they committed themselves to the process. Some wanted
to learn to pray the rosary, some liked to shout hallelujahs to the
heavens, and others admitted they were practicing Buddhist mindfulness
meditations on the side and they didnt want to give that up
if they were to join the Catholic church.
Immediately I felt daunted by the diversity of our group. How, I
asked myself, will we ever form a community with so many differences among
ourselves and within our faith lives? Can we manage the journey to Easter
together? Will we bond into a tightly knit group, or will our differences keep
us distant and separated? As we began our time together, I wasnt humble
enough to admit that if it had been up to me, we would not have grown
into a community. Yet God seemed to relish the task of forming us into just
that. When a sweet old woman in a wheelchair confessed with amazement a few
weeks ago, This is the best group Ive ever belonged to -- its
even better than Grandmothers Against Crack, I knew God was
getting a thrill out of doing the job well.
Our first several meetings last September were polite and
uneventful. Then one week we were reflecting on Lukes story of the Good
Samaritan. A participant broke down and cried. I ran out of money this
week and I couldnt buy groceries for my son. The first two food banks I
went to turned me away because I didnt live in their neighborhood. The
man at the third food bank was a Good Samaritan. What followed was a
reverent silence. As the meeting ended, I saw one woman slip the other woman a
$20 bill and our Exodus had truly begun.
A few weeks later, a team member gave a talk on Catholic beliefs
about God. She spoke passionately of the belief that human sexuality is holy
because our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit and because God is revealed
in and through our bodies. A participant approached me within the next week to
tell me how moved she was by the presentation and the ensuing conversation
because she had been molested by her father when she was a teenager and later
raped by an acquaintance. She related that the presentation enabled her to feel
Gods healing touch break into her life for the first time in two
decades.
She said she had always wanted to believe that her sexuality is a
gift, but she had never learned to respect and love herself after being
victimized. In coming to me, she was captivated by the idea that God grieves
with her and for her since she was violated. And she wanted to hear more about
the God who wants her to be healed and whole. Since that week, she has been
experiencing tremendous healing as she prayerfully looks back on her
experience, knowing God is present with her.
At another meeting, a guest speaker mentioned off-handedly that 20
years ago he had gone through a period of being mad at God. A woman whose
nephew had been murdered a month earlier and then more recently was diagnosed
with cancer said she could relate to that experience. As soon as the speaker
was gone, she looked around at all of us and shouted, I am beyond mad. I
am angry with God! Ive lived more than half of my life on the
streets and Ive been clean for almost 10 years. Im just now
beginning to live and its a blast. Why is God doing this to me? She
railed against God like a small child beating on her mothers legs in
frustration and then she broke down and sobbed in anguish. We put her in the
middle of the circle, laid hands on her and prayed over her while everyone,
everyone, in that room held her and spoke to her with reverence and gentleness.
If I have been surprised by the amount of suffering and painful
experiences shared in our small community these past few months, I have been
even more surprised that the sharing doesnt end there. No, despite the
members difficulties, or maybe because of their difficulties, the group
has been acutely attuned to Gods faithful activity in their lives. After
stories of violation and injury, stories of addiction or need, the sharing
always continues on with exclamations of amazement and wonder at the work the
God is doing today, this week, this month. Indeed, the woman and her son in
need of food were provided for, the sexual abuse victim is growing in freedom,
love and forgiveness, the woman with cancer is being cared for in her sickness.
And as a group of 12 incredibly different human beings, we have grown to love
and care deeply for each other.
When I imagine our group as making an Exodus journey out of Egypt,
I think of Gods words to Moses during the Israelites long sojourn
in the desert. I will perform marvels such as have not been performed in
all the earth or in any nation; and all the people among whom you live shall
see the work of the Lord; for it is an awesome thing that I will do with
you (Exodus 34:10). If this is the desert, I can hardly wait to cross
over into the Promised Land.
Ann Naffziger is director of the RCIA for the West Oakland
deanery and a student at the Jesuit School of Theology, Berkeley,
Calif.
National Catholic Reporter, May 10,
2002
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