A Reflection On Vocation

By Andrew Lyke

Every generation has to answer the same question.

Not whether the Church belongs to Christ.

That answer is settled.

The question is whether we believe we belong to the Church.

For many Black Catholics, that question has never been merely theological.

It has been deeply personal.

Can I bring my whole self?

My history.

My culture.

My music.

My grief.

My joy.

My questions.

My Blackness.

Can all of that stand before the altar without apology?

Or must I leave part of myself at the church door?

That question has lingered for generations.

It surfaced again as Fr. Ken Hamilton, James Watts, and I reflected on the journey of Black Catholic ministry. Again and again, we spoke of men and women who refused to accept the false choice between being fully Black and fully Catholic.

They taught us that the Gospel never asks us to become less ourselves.

It asks us to become more fully the people God created us to be.

A Gift, Not a Problem

Too often, Black Catholics have felt that our culture was something to be tolerated rather than celebrated.

As though our spirituality were an interesting variation on someone else’s norm.

But the Gospel tells a different story.

At Pentecost, the Holy Spirit did not erase languages.

The Spirit sanctified them.

The miracle was not that everyone spoke the same language.

The miracle was that everyone heard the mighty works of God in their own voice.

God did not create diversity as an obstacle to unity.

God created diversity as the very language of communion.

Black Catholic spirituality is not an appendix to the Church.

It is one of the Church’s living gifts.

Sister Thea’s Invitation

Whenever I think about belonging, I hear the voice of Sr. Thea Bowman.

She challenged the Church with extraordinary grace, but she also challenged Black Catholics.

She refused to let us settle for standing on the margins of our own Church.

Her invitation was simple.

“Bring yourself.”

Bring your songs.

Bring your preaching.

Bring your ancestors.

Bring your suffering.

Bring your resilience.

Bring your laughter.

Bring your whole self.

The Church does not become poorer because we do.

It becomes more fully itself.

Builders, Not Bystanders

One of the things I appreciate most about the National Black Catholic Men’s Conference is that it has never been content merely to inspire men.

It has always sought to form leaders.

Not leaders for the conference.

Leaders for the Church.

For parishes.

For families.

For neighborhoods.

For movements seeking justice.

The measure of a successful conference is not how many people applaud the keynote speaker.

It is how many return home prepared to love more deeply, serve more faithfully, and lead more courageously.

The conference ends.

The vocation begins again on Monday morning.

The Church Needs Our Gifts

Sometimes we speak as though Black Catholics need the Church.

Of course we do.

We need the Eucharist.

We need the sacraments.

We need the communion of believers.

But there is another truth we are sometimes hesitant to say aloud.

The Church needs Black Catholics.

Not as a matter of demographics.

As a matter of discipleship.

The Church needs the witness of a people who have learned to sing through suffering.

Who have discovered joy without denying pain.

Who have practiced forgiveness without surrendering justice.

Who know that hope is not naïve optimism but disciplined faith.

These are not merely Black experiences.

They are Christian treasures.

Becoming the Church

The older I become, the less interested I am in asking whether I belong.

Instead, I ask a different question.

How is Christ calling me to help the Church become more fully herself?

That is a different posture.

It moves us from waiting for permission to accepting responsibility.

From asking for inclusion to embracing mission.

From wondering whether we have a place to recognizing that God has already prepared one.

Every generation must make that journey.

The generation before us did.

Now it is ours.

Soon it will belong to those who come after us.

Our Turn

As I listened again to my conversation with Fr. Ken and James, I realized that neither of them spent much time talking about themselves.

They spoke about ministry.

About brothers.

About those who came before.

About those who will come after.

That is the language of vocation.

A vocation is never simply about personal fulfillment.

It is about becoming a blessing for someone else.

Perhaps that is why we gather.

Not to celebrate ourselves.

Not to preserve an organization.

Not even to honor our history.

We gather because Christ is still calling Black Catholic men to build His Church.

Not tomorrow.

Today.

And perhaps the most faithful response we can offer is the simplest one.

“This is my Church.

These are my people.

This is my time.

Lord…

send me.”