Who Gets To Go To Mass?

Can we just let queer people in our churches? Like actually show up in our churches. Let them attend mass, adoration, and church events, and can we do it without giving them that side-eye that says, Why are you here? Can we do it without talking about them as if they are the pinnacle of sin in society? You complain that people don’t attend mass anymore, but I also hear you telling queer couples that they would be better off attending church somewhere else (a church they’d be more comfortable in). Here’s the thing. The Church is family, and just like our regular families—we’re stuck with what we got. And last I checked, the Catholic Church’s plan was to try to reach the whole world, so it looks like one way or another, the LGBTQ+ community has at least a few pews with their name on it.

But people are called to conversion, I hear you say. We can’t just welcome people into the Church and not call them to change how they live. And you are right. You are absolutely right, but I also ask, are you giving space for God to work or just telling people how you wished they lived? Because so many of us in the Church have things that should keep us from receiving communion on Sundays, Catholics just come down hard on the gays because everyone can see it when the queer couple shows up. It’s harder to spot that divorced and remarried couple that slipped into the pew three rows back.

I’m not asking Catholicism to become lax about what it believes or who it lets receive communion. I am asking Catholics to stop gatekeeping the sacramental experience of the mass, limiting it to those who have reached the “right” level of conversion. But if that lesbian couple is living in mortal sin, with no intent to change, what good is it for them to go to mass on Sunday? Won’t it cause scandal? You ask, but what about that straight couple that’s living together and doesn’t want to get married? They’re standing right next to them.

We don’t gather at Sunday mass because we’ve decided to try to live the perfect life; we go to be reminded of who we are and who God is. We go because of who we want to encounter—the person of Jesus Christ in the community of worshipers, the Word proclaimed, and the Eucharist. That’s it. And if the mass is the closest we’ll get to heaven this side of eternity and the Church is meant to be the salt of the earth, then why would we, for a second, bat an eye because somebody we labeled as a sinner showed up for mass? Wouldn’t that actually be the best place for them?

We want our conversion stories to be like a Sherry Weddell timeline with five compact steps—but we know that’s not reality. There are hardships and doubts, and things we think we should probably address but never do. Still, we expect the LGBTQ+ community to have some near-perfect conversion experience before they darken the church doors: you can come to church once you stop acting so gay. You can come to church, but you should look like a straight person. You can come to church, but use the correct bathroom. It’s not as harsh as hate the sinner, hate the sin; it’s more like fix the sinner. And let’s be real, nobody wants to just be fixed. We want to love and be loved. We want to belong. As Jesus famously said, I no longer call you projects; I call you friends. Friends call each other higher (occasionally), but most friendships are about enjoying the other and all their humanity.

There’s space in our churches—empty pews, empty chairs. What if we invited people in and waited to see God’s work in people’s lives? What if we reminded people of the good news that we are already chosen? What if we created a Church experience where we could all be reminded not that we’re failures (we get enough of that in the world) but that we belong and are loved? What if, on Sundays, we prioritized encountering Jesus in each other, in the Word, and in the Eucharist? What if we saw the Church as a place of gathering, not dividing? What if we just let people come to mass?

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash