Groundswell

As the words and music of the Spanish language liturgy washed over me this last Friday evening at the Los Angeles Religious Education Congress,  the word that kept coming to mind was – groundswell. For me, Lent is always a season where I feel my body and spirit craving stillness and silence. I crave quieting the noise and distractions to find my footing. The theme of this year’s RECongress, “Wrapped in Mercy, Hope Renewed” reflects a similar message – when we peel back noise and the distractions, we can ground ourselves in God’s love and mercy, and in-turn, we can more confidently embody the hope our world and Church so desperately need. 

After joining the Discerning Deacons team full-time in January, my time at RECongress was the first time I’d talked to people, besides my family and friends, in-person about Discerning Deacons. I was spreading the word of the Church’s ongoing discernment about women’s ministry and the diaconate, the Synod Implementation Phase, and the work of forming women for preaching through PROCLAIM. Needless to say, I was a little intimidated at first. Before traveling to Los Angeles for an event that draws thousands of Catholics from around the country, I asked other team members who are RECongress veterans: What’s it like? What sort of questions do people ask? They assured me, for many, this is the first time people are hearing of us and this open discernment about women’s participation in our Church. Most people approaching our Discerning Deacons booth were encouraged, curious and surprised knowing that this conversation is real and happening. 

Even with their advice, I still couldn’t imagine what the next three days would feel like. People were drawn to our booth like moths to flame. As soon as one conversation ended, others approached. As I asked, “Did you know that there were women deacons in the early Church?” many answered, “no.” There were those who at first seemed hesitant or uncertain, but even they—as I continued to share, thinking they might recoil—even they often drew closer. 

Deacon couples, priests and young people were ready and eager to hear about this work. As deacons approached and heard us share, they often pointed to their wives next to them saying through a wide smile, “That’s right! She’s the real deacon.” Deacons’ wives spoke of how meaningful the experience of going through diaconate formation alongside their husbands was, followed by their heartbreak upon receiving a certificate at the end of their participation, while their husbands received diaconal ordination. Other women approaching the booth shared honestly and vulnerably their own call to the order of deacons, sharing that they’ve felt this call stirring within them since they were little girls. 

A groundswell, in its literal sense as an ocean movement, always has a source. Whether it be an earthquake or storm, it begins somewhere. There is a cause. As people approached the booth, it felt as though the seeds for this conversation were already planted within them, as if we were naming a hope, a need, a desire, that was already growing, already present. It felt as if we were naming something that they already knew to be true — what comes from the Holy Spirit cannot be stopped. 

I’ve never been more certain of the fact that the Holy Spirit is the source of this groundswell, and that we are all a part of the abundant, resulting waves. When people hear of this discernment, they are drawn in. They come closer. I believe people come closer because when we peel back all the distractions and noise, we know that God’s grace is poured out abundantly on all of us, regardless of gender. The Holy Spirit is the source of our hope. 

This is the groundswell, and we’re all a part of it. Of this movement. Of this wave. It is undoubtable. Palpable. It calls us all forth to dream. To dream of more. To dream with a relentless hope. To dream and work for a Church and a world where women are encouraged to offer their abundant gifts – perhaps even as deacons.