The “More” in Gathering

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In the last few months, I have been fortunate to have attended Gatherings of various configurations that I have experienced as Sacred. By that I mean there was a “more” to being there. It wasn’t just a play, or a visit with friends, or participating remotely in a convention. Yes, it was that on the surface, but each of these Gatherings was a portal to a deeper experience, a “more,” for lack of a fancier word.

I would like to share three of them. 

Let’s begin with the upper Midwest, Minnesota.

I attended a play put together and performed by five middle schoolers. It was an interesting topic, death and life, official title “Death the Musical.” Leave it to middle schoolers to sing about dying! One of the lines I recall is, “this is a song about dying.” The gist of the play is that there is no living without dying and there is no dying without living. The troupe was able to perform the play at a small theatre at the University of Minnesota. There were 70 seats and all were occupied: family, friends, neighbors, former neighbors, schoolmates, teachers, church mates. The keyboard accompanist is a former college roommate of one of the Dads. When you are doing a musical, a talented accompanist is a huge piece. Thank you, Dave. 

There were several things that touched me about the play. One, of course, is just the sheer creativity of the play and its topic. The “more” that I experienced was the energy; the connection between the quintet of actors and the audience. The ensemble drew us into something “more.” Part of it was their innocence. They’ve not yet been vaccinated with the cynicism of life, which can overcome us adults; their joyful exuberance, even while singing about death, the trust they had in each other to be able to pull this off. It was basically written, produced, and directed by these fearless five. They took the risk of vulnerability; that it would flop, that the audience wouldn’t get it. Instead, they drew the audience into something “more.” Not sure I can define the “more.” Maybe it was different for each attendee, but it was there. The ending was very clever. The audience was stilled and then rose to their feet to cheer.

Moving east to central Midwest, Chicago. “Chicago, Chicago that wonderful town.”

Skipping from a Sacred Gathering with five actors and an audience of 70 to a huge convention hall with 23,000 in the United Center and another approximately 22 to 26 million home viewers depending on the evening, is quite a leap. I lost count of how many speakers there were at the DNC. I enjoyed the speakers but I was more impressed with the diversity of the crowd. A lot of young faces; many faces that were different from previous conventions. I actually attended the 1968 Convention in Chicago – a young face then – but it was heavily male, White and Black. There were few, if any, Latinas or Asians attending 56 years ago. The 2024 Convention not only had more diversity but also impish creativity. Who could miss Wisconsin’s Cheeseheads or Hawaii’s leis and floral head pieces? If you were looking for a birthday balloon bouquet on Thursday, August 22^nd in Chicago, you were out of luck. I think every balloon in Chicago was at the United Center. So, what is so sacred about 100,000 colorful ballons descending? Probably nothing. What was so touching and sacred was a moment that was not scripted – a spontaneous,

“That’s My Dad,”

the cheer of 17-year-old Gus Walz as he saw his dad, Tim Walz, walk on the stage to accept the Vice President nomination for his party.

Journalist Robin Abcarin, writing for the LA Times, claimed Gus’s burst of pride was the “three most memorable words” uttered at the DNC. That is quite a statement given how many words had been uttered that evening. And then to see VP candidate, Tim Walz embracing his son with a bear hug when the family came up on the stage. A sacred moment. A “more.”

Among the many gifts that people who are assessed as being special needs in some way do for us is that they “pop the bubble.” The convention in Chicago, and I am sure the convention that had been held in Milwaukee a few weeks prior, are high-energy events; well-orchestrated, and sealed in the excitement of the moment and all that is riding on that moment. A young person like Gus doesn’t really get pulled into that bubble. That’s his gift. So, he can just stand up and shout, “That’s my Dad” which leads us outside the bubble to the real world that, at the end of the day, is about being with those with whom we belong and are loved. That was the sacred moment, the “more.”

Since that evening, Vice President candidate, Tim Walz and his wife, Gwen Walz, have explained that Gus has a non-verbal learning disability. This particular L.D. often does not manifest itself until the teen years.

Leaving Chicago and heading south down Interstate 55, we arrive in the lower Midwest and my hometown, St. Louis.

Jerry and I have friends that I have known from high school and college. We call ourselves the “Circle of Friends.” We were eight – two of our Circle have died, one has moved away – so that leaves five of us. One of the five, Joanne, and her husband, Bob require residential living. Bob resides in assisted living and Joanne lives in Memory Care. Fortunately, their buildings are adjacent to each other and Bob wheels over to be with Joanne for part of each day. The other four of us, plus Jerry & Emory have begun visiting regularly. We keep learning how to plan the visit to make it more enjoyable. We have learned that wearing name tags helps Joanne connect our name with a face. Bob mentioned that Joanne enjoys singing so we come prepared to sing some simple, upbeat songs. We also bring refreshments. Our own version of “breaking bread” together.

Where the sacredness of the gathering unfolds is being with Bob and Joanne in their deep and abiding love for one another. We are on sacred ground, made sacred by their devotion to one another. Bob is so loving and protective and attentive to Joanne, and Joanne looks at Bob as if they are still courting. Rather than being bitter about having to give up their home, their independence, they are grateful to be in a residence where they can see each other each day, where they receive quality care, and where they can attend daily Mass. People think that when we visit someone in residential living, we are doing good. But the truth is that when we are with Bob and Joanne, their love and devotion for one another and their welcoming us into their lives nourishes us. They give us much more than we can bring them. A sacred time together.

I encourage you to be alert and keep looking for the Sacred Moments that come your way.

Bridget