Why do you come to Faith and Light if you say you don't believe in God? I don't think you should be here." Years ago, at a gathering of different communities, someone asked me this. The words hit hard. I had no answer.
My friends in Faith and Light welcomed me as I am, just as I try to welcome each of them—unlike the person who pinned me to that chair with her question. With them, I love to sing the words: you will be his friends if you love one another, and that is his entire Gospel. I don't need to believe that what you do for the least among you, you do for him (though I do love the elegance of his summary!).
And then, sixteen years later, a new question: "What's it like to go on pilgrimage as a non-believer?" I answer in a rush, words tumbling over each other: "Because my friends were going. The community needed me. And they asked me to help organize it.
Some friends love my spreadsheets and summary emails. Others love my jokes and my smile." I went to Loreto with my six-year-old daughter—to be with her, to show her joy, and to share my attention with a cheerful fifty-year-old woman in our group.
In my backpack I carried the music team shirt (though I don't always hit the notes!) and the staff shirt, to change into as needed. On my nightstand sat the list of room numbers for all the pilgrims who would stay in Rome during the second leg of the journey. More than as a "non-believer," I went as someone too busy to pray: I had no time.
But coming home, after we attended a baptism with the community, my daughter asked a third question: "Why am I not baptized?" I answered simply: "When parents baptize their children, they promise to teach them to believe in God.
I try to live by what I teach you—to show you what's right and what isn't. But I'm not sure I can guide you all the way to God. So I sat down here with you at the beginning of the path, and I chose to let you walk on your own—so you can find your own way while I keep looking for mine."
