Through the Red Door Blog

I realize the opening day of this New Year was merely a Saturday turning into Sunday, but it really isn’t merely that. It’s the start of a new year—fresh crisp new calendars, maybe a new job or effective date of a promotion, or maybe we view it as an opportunity for a fresh start. Right or wrong, I tend to look at the year’s end as a time of looking back, of answering that old question, “What did I do last year?” Well, our employers may answer that question, but am I not called as a member of our society to look at “what I have done” for our Program this year?  Have I “practiced the Twelve Steps in all [my] our affairs?” 2022 will note several years of recovery for me. While looking bank, I’m afraid I have fallen short—blaming the continuation of present difficult medical realities is an easy excuse. But let’s face it, the prevalence of the ZOOM - ing AA meetings doesn’t do the job. The Program works in part, maybe a large part at that, because of the personal daily contact of the meetings themselves with like-minded folks. It’s not just the newly struggling people, those who are fighting present difficulties or seeking some relief from the stress of it all. It’s the chance to look at the faces, for we need to acknowledge that most communication is non-verbal. We miss that important element of our meetings. Some of us, and let’s be honest, the ZOOM process gives us too much of an easy opportunity to block the screening and audio of ourselves—for a quick cup of coffee or answer the telephone or converse with our spouse, even read a newspaper while merely listening to the comments with “half an ear” of attention. So, in typical AA teachings, I must give my attention to the issue of “What am I going to do about it?” Well, we can’t violate the mandates for the gathering of people given the pandemic. I must follow the medical opportunities to insulate myself. I find I must sometimes look for new meetings. Some new ones aren’t scheduled in the “Where and When’s” or located how I wish. Sometimes meetings are cancelled unbeknownst to me closed at the last minute. Maybe you lost an opportunity to meet weekly with persons in a local lock-down recovery hospital.

Before the pandemic, I was in the habit of “It’s noon! Monday through Friday at St. X Church and time for my meeting!” I was usually there and if not there, at the local hospital working with others or just meeting with fellow members of the Fellowship.

Our options are limited. But I can’t let this pandemic with its necessary restrictions dilute my Program. This year, I must re-commit to that Program—specifically to my habit of a more regularized “Alcoholics Anonymous schedule.” I have to find a way to enjoy the richness of it all.

JRA, St. X Noon

Over the Christmas break, I went to see Spider-Man: No Way Home. As a big comic book nerd, I had followed all the leaks, teases and news leading up to this new movie’s release. As a teen in the 1970s and 1980s, I remember how I related to Peter Parker. No matter what he did, it always backfired. Peter was a good-hearted guy but, he was ever the outsider.

The plot of the movie revolves around the world learning Spider-Man’s secret identity as Peter Parker. Its response is a mirror of the current state of our culture where we idolize or demonize people and divide into camps of love or hate. There is no gray space in which we may process, breathe, or come into our own truth. As Peter and his friends wrestle with their newfound fame, they must reckon with its fall out. Peter’s girlfriend and best buddy both receive death threats. The final straw for Peter is when all three amigos are rejected by every college for which they applied.

As Peter wrestles with the consequences of being exposed he realizes that he can ask his super-hero buddy, Dr. Strange, to go back in time and change the event that led to his big reveal. As I watched this unfold on the screen, I realized that as a recovering addict, I often imagine a similar scenario. Maybe it’s because it is the end of 2021 and I am looking back, but the temptation to fixate on the ghost of my past feels urgent. I can relate to Peter Parker in his desire to change his past.

The problem is that the past cannot be changed, forgotten, edited, or erased. As I recover, I surrender to the truth that the past must only be accepted.

I do not possess godlike powers to change the past. When I fixate on the past, I pretend to be god. I play the role of a supreme being who can reach back through the past, finesse the mistakes I have made, and in general, make the world a better place. Regretfully, such thoughts are fantasy rooted in selfishness and self-will. Ego run amok.  

Like so many people, this past year was a challenge. I started the year with so much hope for a return to normal. I longed for the time when the pandemic was just an afterthought. I dreamt of returning to in-person meetings, being able to worship without a mask and receive the Eucharist. Those dreams were slowly diminished and dismissed as we saw a series of COVID surges and the isolation continued.

Don’t get me wrong, there were incredible moments in this past year. I welcomed a new grandchild into my family and discovered my son and daughter-in-law are expecting my first grandson (the granddaughters still have him out numbered) due in May. There were glimpses of grace, mercy, and love in conversations with dear friends and loved ones. I have so very much for which to be thankful.

I have the wisdom of the steps to address these restless spirits of the past, be they familiar or mournful. In my step work, I try to honestly look at my past. I realize my addiction and co-dependency limited my ability to fully be present in my own body. I denied the very best of myself to those I loved most. I know that sobriety is far better than the illusion of a life which hides powerlessness.

This gift of working the steps sets me free from humiliations of my past failures and the unbearable pressures of achievements. In that space, I am free to give back to others what was so freely given to me. Step Twelve work expects us to lean into that calling. I do it because the community of recovery is stronger by doing so, not out of obligation. It takes the focus off me and puts it on the newcomer. I can’t help but think about paraphrasing Peter Parker’s Uncle Ben, “With great recovery comes great responsibility.” That responsibility is a burden I am willing to bear going into 2022. The good news is that I share that burden with my recovering brothers and sisters.

Thanks for helping share the load.

By Shane M

“I now realize that my former prejudice against clergymen was blind and wrong. They have kept alive through the centuries a faith which might have been extinguished entirely. They pointed out the road to me, but I did not even look up. ….the man who showed me the truth was a fellow sufferer and a layman. Through him I saw at last, and I stepped from the abyss to solid ground…” *

As I read this text, I realized that, even as a clergyperson, I too was prejudiced against clergymen. I pointed the finger at those whose behavior attracted attention. I avoided those whose deep spiritual life saw through my shallowness. I saw myself as one of the “new breed of priests” who understood how to be “one with the people.” I had no problem having a drink in a bar. At weddings and parties, I had no problem getting up to dance. “I didn’t make a fool of myself in public.”

I had read a lot about spirituality. I could teach classes on it. In treatment I was fascinated by the Chaplin who picked up a small bible, read a paragraph, and then delivered a brief talk that I never would have seen in it. When it came to doing my fifth step, I was informed I was to do it with the chaplain. I wanted to choose the priest I wanted to “confess” to. Then I realize the chaplain’s boss and mine was the same person. I rewrote my fourth step as I did not wish to tell him everything in case he’d tell the boss I was not fit to return to work. On the other hand, in his office, I learned much about him from his library to tell me he was more open minded than I considered him to be.

Going to AA meetings, reading the big book and 12X12, I believed I would be of great help to “these people” given my background as a priest and addictions counselor. I was asked to chair meetings. I was asked to tell my story. I was taken out on twelfth step calls. I make myself believe that this was because I was so good as a speaker, that I was so knowledgeable. I really knew a lot – just like a computer – but I had no idea as to the depth of the program or how the disease had impacted my life. I could recall incidents that I could share and I could shed tears because I did feel ashamed, but it was short lived.

Two men choose to sponsor me and I was unaware of what they were doing . They would not let me go on the Speaker circuit because, as they said, "You have a big ego and it will kill you." I had nothing in common with these two men and yet I found myself listening to them, doing what they told me to do.

After four and a half years I had a Spiritual Awakening that changed my whole life. I came to understand that I am an alcoholic; that I am a drug addict; that I am in recovery. Now the path was open for me to learn. I learned that I did make a fool of myself and in public. I embarrassed my friends and they were too embarrassed to tell me what I did and for that I am grateful. I listened to lay men and women and learned about a Power greater than myself that could restore me to sanity. I listened to lay men and women and learned about spirituality in a way I never thought of before.

As I listened to the men and women in a variety of groups, I learned I am “one of them” -I belong here - and for this, today, I am grateful. Today, I am grateful for the men and women who have carried this message for many years. I am grateful for the men and women who shared with me their experience, strength, and hope and that I was able to hear it clearly enough to finally appreciate its depth and in so doing made me a better layperson and, today, a better priest.

Jesus did not baptize or ordain anyone. He sent lay men and women out with a message of love, forgiveness, and compassion. As religion became organized, it almost lost the basic story which was saved by a humble clergyperson along with lay men and women who understood it and, when the time was right, created a twelve-step program to highlight the spirituality of living, giving me a way of life to choose life and have it to the fullest.

*AS BILL SEES IT. 119

Séamus D
Greater New Orleans.

Our minister last Sunday was talking about our blessings. It reminded me about the nature of our modern-day Christmas and the sometimes excessive gifting of presents. Not everyone gets sucked into that tradition but for all of us, it’s a good reminder. We seem to just slide into the habit of giving “too much.” having promised last Christmas to “control” our buying this year. We try to monitor what we are buying, but it’s fun to give something as a surprise, to the family particularly. Maybe we had a “good year” and feel that we need to share our fortunate situation. Frequently, the “too much” aspect of giving just creeps up on us and isn’t apparent until all the packages are open on Christmas Day. And it is fun to watch the faces of kids and grandkids as they open that really special game or latest model computer they really didn’t expect. I suppose that some of the excess giving is just a mis-step, beyond what you usually give. There are lots of reasons we slip into the area of “excess gifting” and I don’t intend at all to be someone pointing the finger of “shame-on-you.”

One observation our minister made was the importance of trying to balance all this with special efforts at community service. Frequently, churches provide special holiday suppers for the indigent served by parish members. Bringing your children and grandkids to the event is a good way to remind them of the simple needs of others. Then the family opening of gifts is undertaken against this back-drop of those needs.

The homeless pull at our hearts especially hard this time of year. It’s cold now and sometimes we’re in the middle of a hard winter freezing rain and snowstorm. Where do these folks sleep? Do they have tough cold-weather-storm coats? Their kids -- they are aware of the gifting to kids but their own stockings are only half full, or worse, or by perhaps being loaded with cheap plastic jim-cracks. It is a time for parents to teach, to explain, to reach out, to bring to our own families a sense of balance and a joy that we might be able to ease the difficulties, and yes, perhaps, their pain, by simply reaching out and by assuring our families that others don’t “have it as good” as we might and bring a sense of participation by the family in service to others not so fortunate.

Surely, our Program calls us to serve others. There are special needs, always. Several years ago, on Christmas day I was sitting around our son’s home in Denver feeling sorry for myself, grinding away on some issues which could not be solved that day but which could lead me to that slippery slope. So, I spent much of the day at an AA club house. There, I knew I couldn’t get into trouble. I spent most of the time talking to a rancher from Wyoming who drove to the city in his pickup and “just needed a place to talk to people.”  Tons of folks were present and that meant a need for folks to bring a lot of coffee and cookies and cakes, to clean up, lead discussion sessions, and talking to that new person who had no other place to go, having lost his family and his self-respect but stumbles into the club house.

Christmas is a joyous time of celebration of the birth of our Savior, but it’s also a time to remember our good fortune and, following the importuning of the Twelve Steps, use it responsibility to reach out to others, including our families.

JRA, ST X Noon, Cincinnati

The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood. We saw the glory with our own eyes, the one-of-a-kind glory, like Father, like Son, Generous inside and out, true from start to finish.

John 1:14 (The Message)

This past weekend I began to go through the remains of my recently closed-out storage room. In the background of that task, I decided to listen to the audiobook, The Universal Christ, by Father Richard Rohr. I thought I would be in an excellent place to fill my heart with this powerful truth as I emptied the boxes from my past.

As I unpacked my life, so many memories rushed through my brain and emotions flooded my heart. Many of these boxes held the items of a life I had not visited in over 10 years. They included both the remnants of my career as an addicted evangelical pastor and a man who lived in denial of his sexual identity. The boxes contained the ghosts of the past. I was both Scrooge and Marley, rattling the chains that once bound me.

I also remembered the joys of that life. The glimpse of love in the photos of my children ’s eyes. Rediscovering the blessing of grandparents who created a safe space for a kid raised in the home of an alcoholic. I surprisingly discovered an old daily meditation book based on the liturgical calendar and the writings of the early church fathers. Though I had no memory of purchasing this, it hinted at the hunger for rituals and traditions my heart desired.

Like life, the experience was bitter-sweet. I felt these memories, grieved over them, and saw them differently than when they occurred. As these feelings culminated, I heard Rohr discussing the incarnation of Christ. He spoke about three incarnations. First, the coming the Christ within creation. Second, the incarnation of Jesus within Mary’s womb. Finally, he described a time that is coming when injustice and suffering are abolished at the final incarnation. Rohr then made a statement that blew my mind. He stated that Jesus came as the incarnate Word, the “logos,” not to make us pious. He incarnated to show us how to be human.

The following day, our Rector described the advent season as reflection, repentance, reconciliation, and renewal. All my thoughts and feelings from the day before suddenly synced up with the sermon about Advent. Advent, and my recovery journey, is always best experienced as a continuum. Advent does call us to prepare and to look forward. But we cannot do so without an awareness that Christ is presently in us, with us, and through us.

Recovery also exists along a continuum. The new truth I realized this weekend is that while recovery is spiritual, the most profoundly spiritual act in recovery is to be utterly human. Recovery is based upon reflection (steps one - five), repentance (steps six and seven), reconciliation (steps eight and nine), and renewal (steps ten - twelve). All processes we celebrate in the Advent season! Before my recovery journey began ten years ago, there was the indwelling of a Higher Power, the Christ-Spirit. The same Christ-Spirit who indwells my suffering and addiction. The Christ-spirit who indwells the blessings of family and friends. The Christ-Spirit who indwells the heartbreaking humiliation of hitting bottom. The Christ-Spirit who indwells the pink cloud of new sobriety, The Christ-Spirit who indwells the journey through lapse and relapse. The Christ-Spirit who indwells the addict who still struggles. 

Suppose recovery is about the manifestation of Christ in each moment, relationship, and experience. Could it be that addiction, then, is about the absence of a power greater than myself in each of those situations? Is it possible that addiction concerns pride and self-will run riot, creating a living hell for the suffering addict? Addiction promises us that we can be like God, yet delivers a bait and switch as old as the Garden. It is the antithesis of indwelling - it is the abandoning.

In this Advent season, I invite you to join me as I attempt to reconnect with the call to incarnation. Allow the presence of Christ to seep deep into your past failures and successes. Acknowledge that the Spirit of your Higher Power resides in your present circumstances and shortcomings. Embrace the future grace of recovery as you surrender to, and work for, the promise of emotional and physical sobriety. In short, let this season be one where we are reminded that the fulfillment of recovery and the Advent season requires both Jesus and us to be human. Let the logos “move into the neighborhood” of our humanity.

After all, He lives there anyway.

Shane Montgomery

**The Message (MSG), Copyright © 1993, 2002, 2018 by Eugene H. Peterson

It’s noon of that “day after” we all have faced when our brain was fuzzy and we found ourselves ashamed of our alcoholic conduct, as usual. We know our son feels the same this morning.

What should you as a solid member of Alcoholics Anonymous say about your son’s repetitive drunken experiences? You certainly don’t want to “fly off the handle” and make your son feel worse and more ashamed. Don’t lose your temper. Remember, he is an addict, he’s sick, and he can’t control his drinking. All he knows is drinking to hide behind his drinking.

Say nothing about his behavior patterns with alcohol and, if at all, not until you have done your homework on the nature and details of that conversation. Why? Because someone else may be “a better first contact” with the Program.

Put yourself in his position when you were showing up drunk. Would you have reacted positively to yet another shaming lecture from your parent? Would you have said, “O.K. Dad, let’s go to a meeting. Thanks for taking me!” No, perhaps he just used your shouting and anger as an excuse: “You’d drink too if you had my Dad …”

No, you the father, and long-term member of the Program, need to stop. There are many ways to deal with this but there is no “one process does it all.” Your quest is to find what works best for him, not you!

So, call your sponsor and discuss what to do. Grab the Big Book and re-read chapter 7, “Working with Others.” Get to a meeting of your home group and bring it up for discussion.  Perhaps the first thing is to get to an Al Anon meeting. There you will find people who have been where you are right now -- who observed loved ones drinking excessively and recklessly. Other good steps are having lunch with 2 or 3 old timers and find out what has been their experience. Perhaps your home discussion group includes a young person who relates to what your son is experiencing. Find out how his entry into the Program or first discussions about his disease of alcoholism came about. And there are professional organizations, treatment centers and hospital rehab opportunities.   

Why all the caution? Simple. An approach to your son not carefully thought through with the people who know “how to do it” can imprint a horrible event on his mind wrecking any possibility of a decision to deal with his disease until a later date -- “I’ll show em! I’ll quit myself! I’m not an alcoholic or addict.” Then you’ll find the progressive nature of the disease has won again and doing “something about your disease” is put off and off, perhaps to the even worse consequence than is apparent today. It only gets worse. It never gets better or goes away by itself.

So, “What do I say to him the ‘morning after?’ Nothing. Just get to a meeting of your home group and to Al Anon and get the facts and assistance you will need. That way you have a better chance of assisting with saving the life of your son.

Jim A/ St. X Noon, Cincinnati

“Why at this point in history, has God chosen to communicate His healing grace to so many of us? From the beginning, communication in A.A. has been no ordinary transmission of helpful ideas and attitudes. Because of our kinship in suffering, and because our common means of deliverance are effective for ourselves only when constantly carried to others, our channels of contact have always been charged with the language of the heart.”

When COVID 19 hit almost two years ago, I was not sure how I would handle not getting to meetings. I am one of those people of a certain age who considers the computer a glorified typewriter. In my years in the program, I have gone a few months without getting to a full meeting for one reason of another and I knew the consequences of missing out on my social/spiritual life in the program.

I had never heard of zoom till about February of last year when I heard that our future meetings would be on zoom. On What? How do you get that? Is it in my computer? What do you mean I can get it on my phone? I’m very open minded until I come across some new-fangled idea that trips me up and I’m in a tizzy till I calm down and then allow myself to be taught what I need to know. I still owe my homegroup some money as I haven’t figured out Venmo and that’s probably a trust issue come to think of it.

So, I got the number and a member to set it up for me and, with that, a whole new world wide web of alcoholics in recovery. One newcomer told me that in one day he had been to meetings in Australia, Germany, England, and Ireland.

In the mental health field, there was talk of the increase of alcohol and drug abuse. I made the assumption it would only get worse as none of those folk could find their way onto zoom. So much for my speed to ass-u-me, Yes, I made an ass of myself and I am owning it. It was as joyful to see and hear a newcomer on zoom as it was to see them in person. They came just as they do to any meeting -- timid, concerned, not knowing, and trusting. (More than I did when I came to A.A.) And they came back.

God chose to communicate Her grace through zoom and without my permission. It was wonderfully awesome and delightful to see these new people take a risk and tell people they could only see as a stamp on a screen that they wanted help. Some broke down and cried. Emotions ran high and participants shared their first day at a meeting. No matter where we were from. And that was another thing. In one meeting, there were Alaskans, Canadians, Americans, Irish (of course they are everywhere) and all of us sharing that common bond of emotional pain and the growth that comes from living the program one day at a time as we keep coming back no matter what.

Alcoholics Anonymous grew through word of mouth, telephone calls, twelve-step calls, articles in a paper, and as the media moved into high gear with the speed of computers and now all the electronic devices, AA has not changed; we still communicate our experience, strength and hope, our pain and joy, our hope and vision even if we are sitting in a room by ourselves talking to someone on the other side of the globe. We all speak the same language of the heart even though it sounds different with a good brogue.

During hurricane IDA I joined the multitude in escaping to wherever. We landed in Birmingham and I found a meeting. I also found more than that. I was shown - of course by one a hundred years younger than I – how to download an app that gives me every meeting around no matter where I am. Now I have no excuse for not being at a meeting, they are literally at my fingertips. Now, it’s not a cup of coffee and a cigarette that brings a meeting to life; it’s an App (??), a zoom number, and the language of the heart comes through loud and clear. Gut Orientated Dialogue. I am not sure if I want to be around when we begin to pass it on telepathically, but then God only knows.

You’ll see what was “really scary” as I tell you what happened this weekend. First, let me say I’ve been in the Program for several years, having followed our familiar paths. From my surrender on, I had steadily worked the Program, chaired meetings at the local addiction hospital unit, and so forth.

This particular day was my son’s high school homecoming and following the normal festivities, he returned home and as he entered the living room where we all were watching television, he stumbled and “threw up” seemingly everything he’d had eaten or drank at their several gala parties.

Sadly, this wasn’t the first episode with our son. He’d put on a similar bad show in front of the family after another school event, an end of a semester, or something like that. We sort of passed it off as what you might call “teen-aged nonsense.” There had been other weekend incidents, and, well, actually, if truth be known, it did seem to be a regular situation on weekends. Recently, there were times during a school week when he would appear intoxicated after visiting a friend’s house.

My mind immediately flashed back to my own days of rage – all the horrific examples of an out of control practicing alcoholic and the damages to family, grandparents, and others. I was also aware of how I felt when my parents sat me down the next morning and told me be I shouldn‘t be drinking as it’s “harmful to my health” and “not something our family does, why do you do this, you know it’s wrong.” My reaction to this “sit down” couldn’t have been worse. I was soon off to college and I treated this as an invitation to continue drinking whenever and at what level I decided.

But back to our son; what do I say to my son that next morning? Remember, he’s a good kid, but like most adolescents, he erects various barriers or at least bumpy paths to any parental “sit down talk.”

But isn’t that the most effective way to approach him? Do I sit him down and re-tell him my story the next morning? Do I give him a copy of the Big Book? How about taking him to my regular meeting, a good discussion meeting? It’s not that he’s unaware of my history of alcoholic behavior. He lived through some of it just like the whole family did and I’m pretty sure he is conscious about my work with others in the Program.

I’ll tell you what really scares me – it’s that if I do this incorrectly, it may serve as a hinderance to his doing anything about it himself until he really reaches his destructive bottom with all that implies. We love our son and it scares me that on the one hand I can really be of help to him but I fear just busting into his bedroom and sternly say, “You need to get to a meeting, pronto.”

Author’s Note: I’ll return to the Red Door on December First with some thoughts about suggestions what the next steps might be.

 Jim A, St. X Noon, Cincinnati  

What did? My discomfort with myself. There was no reason causing me to go back to depression’s old feeling, lack of self-worth, the “poor me’s” of feeling sorry for myself. Sometimes, like today, there’s no warning, just a quiet sadness sneaking over me. And, there is no question in my mind that in the old days, my abuse of substances was used to cover it up, to feel better, to hide my depressive feelings.  Of course, back in those thrilling days of yesteryear, many times, round-robin-like, my addiction itself caused and supported my depression.

Today, it’s a different story. I had jumped off that merry-go-round several years ago. I had learned my lesson. Depressed when I came to the Program? You bet! But the Program didn’t leave me hanging. It provided a means to wrestle with that dark cloud and escape unharmed.

It was hard to learn that lesson. But, at discussion meetings I learned that a person in recovery shouldn’t just sit there and do nothing. “Oh no.” I was told to “Do Something, don’t just sit there on your pity-pot, get into action!” ”To do what?” I’d ask, and the groups would say, “Here’s a bundle of action steps:”

“Take your inventory, get to a discussion meeting every day, help set up the meeting, talk to a newcomer, provide service work at the AA clubhouse, give a lead at a private treatment center or a court-supervised program, get outside your own self, take a measure of your gratitude for the Program. You’ re a lucky one. With the right hand of your Higher Power, work on the positive aspects of life.”

Sometimes all of us really do have serious problems made worse by our addiction. There’s no easy answer for those, but there is a Program suggestion. Just get into action with your sponsor or a person who has faced similar issues. How did they work through that stuff? Find a way to rid yourself of the problem, whatever it takes to get a fresh start. Maybe you can’t do it all at once, but make a “to-do” list and set reasonable goals to clean it up, and “start the cleanup.”

Depression and allied mental issues are complicated. Sometimes, recovery requires professional assistance and medication. The problems may be of long duration and it may take a good deal of time and work with a professional to control those feelings. By all means, don’t try the easy road of self-medication of alcoholism.

Above all, don’t drink, go to meetings, reach out to others and don’t feel sorry for yourself. Look for solutions! And don’t despair. Many in the Program have encountered depression and have worked through its effects. And, by all means, Keep Coming Back!

Jim A – St X Noon, Cincinnati, OH

I never tire of the liturgy. Some may say it could get routine and trite. Quite the opposite. The tradition, the ritual, the muscle memory of kneeling, standing, bowing are quite comforting. I see the same in the meetings. Walking through the Red Door, we begin our confession for all we have done and left undone. Have mercy on us and forgive us.

All someone has to say on a Tuesday night at 7pm is “God…” and everyone joins in with “God, grant me the serenity…” In many cases it’s the meeting’s version of the Lord’s Prayer. During the mass, all it takes is the priest to say “Our Father” and we all join in. In some meetings both the Serenity Prayer and the Lord’s Prayer are used. It’s hard to see a difference between the meeting and the mass if we’re all saying the Lord’s Prayer, isn’t it?

I remember the first time I heard the commendation that we observe a moment of silence for the “sick and suffering still outside this room.” I couldn’t help but hear “those on our thoughts and minds we remember them silently or aloud.” It was prayer. It was reverence. It was holding our loved ones in the Light in the meeting and in the mass. These were the prayers of the people.

“Someone read from Just for Today” sounds a lot like “A reading from the Book of Bill.” The words might be familiar, we might not be paying full attention and it may be just what our spirits needed to hear. In the church basement we hear supportive, life-giving words just like we do in the sanctuary. They are sacred texts.

The passing of the peace never struggles during the meeting. Mass could learn a thing or two. Even during COVID when we were fist bumping or waving from a comfortable six foot distance during mass, there were hardy, full body contact hugs, often unmasked, all throughout the meeting. The connection to another is a lifeline and can feel and look more genuine than the masked, sometimes sterile nods often shared Sunday mornings at 10:30.

While the celebration of the Eucharist is the highpoint of the mass, the culmination of the meeting is the celebration of “clean time.” At six months or one year, there is a processional to the front of the room. And great celebration. The chip becomes the host. We pause and remember and marvel in the mystery. “We who are many are one body” because we’ve all been on this road and those who get ahead of us in their recovery will be celebrated.

As mass comes to a close, we triumphantly declare “Thanks be to God!” after we are blessed by the priest. After the meeting, we leave with the hope of another day, several phone numbers of people to call if we need support and a greater connection to our Higher Power. Just like mass. 

Deborah M, MA, LPC
Lancaster, PA