Why we say Unwanted and not Marginalized
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When I began putting this project together more than two years ago, a lot of people commented they were happy someone was working with Catholics on the margins. To a degree, they were correct, but it didn’t fully sit right with me.
Being "marginalized" is a wonky academic term. It’s almost impersonal. If someone says they are marginalized, they’re probably asking for a structural or political change. For example, if someone is handicapped, we can and should build a wheelchair ramp. But does that make them feel wanted?
There have also been long, thoughtful discussions what negative realities using the term “unwanted” to describe real people implies too. Some were worried it legitimizes attitudes by a few in parishes that want a smaller, more holy, elite crowd. And that’s precisely where we want to take this discussion. Not in a political sense, but to look at everything fresh with theological eyes.
"Theology for the Unwanted" (TFTU) is the name I eventually settled on because the main mission is to help people to set aside for a brief moment the political, structural, legal, and canonical lenses. Realistically, we can’t totally separate from them because we all live in the reality of a harshly politicized world. Though TFTU is about something different.
Through this project, I hope you can learn how to search deep within yourself and understand issues with the lens of a divine and loving God. It’s not easy and requires all of us to make mutual changes in our lives (that’s right: the Church and you making changes together). Thankfully, the more I researched our Church history, the more obvious it was that theology—in union with the Holy Father—has made all of us grow in Christ’s love over the centuries.
I don’t deny how immensely critical canon law is to our Church’s unity. It preserves and fosters community. But it is not the starting point for someone who wants to understand what it means to accept the eternal Christ and be transformed by him.
As Fr. Richard Rohr has said, we make God too small. We try to fit Him in our own human minds.
We all know and accept the phrase “God loves you,” but for whatever reason, our own biases and the things people around us have said cause an immense number of Catholics to doubt God’s personal love for them.
"Yes, God loves me, but…."
That phrase is the telltale sign of someone who feels unwanted. It’s a deeply theological intuition that at some level acknowledges the divine being of God sees your dignity exactly as you are created, but you have not quite caught up to that reality.
It got me thinking about whether there are differences in the term and what the consequences would be for theology. What does it mean to minister to someone who feels unwanted?
There is also a different, but often conflated, deep fear associated with feeling unneeded. Perhaps that’s why some senators and congressmen hold on to their seats until death is impending. Again, that doesn’t describe my own experiences in the Church either.
As a young kid, I always wanted to please our priests. No matter what faith, club, or group you belong to, it’s a very human desire. We all want to feel “wanted.”
Serving as an altar boy at the 6:15 AM morning Mass before school, Wednesday evenings too, and of course Sundays, I worked at a parish rectory on weekends and volunteered as much as I could. The approval of our parish leaders (including clergy) was a tangible sign that my relationship with God was on the right track.
However, the relationship with those around me in my parish didn’t stay so smooth and perfect once I hit my teen years. Being one of what we now understand to be a sizable number of Catholic teens and young adults grappling with sexual orientation, the message was clear: Fall in line, stay quiet, and be compliant.
Those who knew were happy to let me continue feeling wanted so long as my struggles were hidden from public view. Actually, even though it is probably done with good intentions, it is alarming how often I hear stories of “just don’t talk about it and everything will be fine.” We have a fear that being fully honest will cause the unity of the Church to come into question.
Among the many thought leaders we’ll discuss in future posts and podcasts will be Charles Taylor: The Politics of Recognition, The Ethics of Authenticity, and A Secular Age. Taylor lays out a roadmap for how to be fully Christian in a modern world. No matter how much Latin we bring back (which I like, by the way), we’ll never replicate the cultural contexts of a world that had no sense of why lightning strikes other than God was angry. There are alternate explanations now other than an angry divine being. But I fully believe—without throwing out any of the old—we can learn how to understand Catholic theology in a deeper and more meaningful way for the struggles that plague our Church.
The Catholic Church is beautiful. I love our traditions. And I want you to feel like you choose to be a healthy and fully participating member here. That’s why this is Theology for the Unwanted.
