By: Heejung Cho, Ph.D.
In Braving the Thin Places, Julianne Stanz draws on the Celtic understanding of “thin places”: experiences in which the distance between heaven and earth seems to grow smaller and we become especially aware of God’s nearness. We may encounter them through beauty, love, or an unexpected moment of connection. We may also find ourselves at their threshold through grief, uncertainty, or the realization that life has not unfolded as we hoped. These vulnerable places can open us to a presence we might otherwise have missed.
Stanz was a keynote speaker at this year’s When Faith Meets Pedagogy conference and a guest speaker for Waterloo Catholic District School Board’s Spiritual Development Day. Her reflections have stayed with me. If God draws near within the unfinished realities of our lives, what would it mean for our Church to make room for those realities? Could our communities become places where people encounter God’s nearness? For those committed to the renewal of our Church, this question has particular significance. Many Catholics carry both a deep love for their faith and painful experiences of feeling unheard or excluded. Making room for these experiences requires a willingness to listen honestly, including when what we hear challenges familiar assumptions or reveals a need for change. When someone entrusts us with a difficult part of their story, we are invited to recognize both their vulnerability and the wisdom they bring to the life of the Church. How do we remain rooted in our faith while allowing another person’s experience to question and deepen our understanding?
Archbishop Paul Richard Gallagher offered a helpful insight at a conference on religion and diplomacy in Rome on September 29. He warned against the use of religious identity to divide people into “us” and “them,” he observed: “The antidote is not the weakening of identities, but their maturity.” His words suggest that a secure sense of who we are can deepen our capacity to understand others. For Catholic communities, this maturity takes shape when our rootedness in Christ allows us to listen without becoming defensive. We can take another person’s questions seriously, acknowledge suffering we have failed to notice, and recognize where our own understanding needs to grow. The word catholic means universal, or according to the whole. Within our very name is a calling to widen our hearts toward the whole human family. This calling takes concrete shape when we make room for someone whose beliefs, culture, or family story differs from our own. We enter these encounters trusting that grace is already present.
This trust lies at the heart of the Church’s renewed reflection on Amoris Laetitia, Pope Francis’s 2016 apostolic exhortation on love in the family. Its title, The Joy of Love, expresses a vision rooted in the daily work of loving: patience, forgiveness, fidelity, and care. The document also attends to the difficulties that shape family life, including separation, bereavement, and fragile new beginnings. Its invitation to accompany, discern, and integrate asks the Church to take people’s concrete circumstances seriously while helping them grow toward the fullness of Christian life. Accompaniment begins within these realities. It asks us to recognize the good already taking root and to discern how a person can continue to grow in love.
Some of its most debated passages concern Catholics who have divorced and remarried civilly, and the possibility of sacramental participation in certain circumstances through pastoral discernment. These questions matter deeply. They also belong within a wider pastoral vision: a Church willing to walk patiently with people, recognize their desire for God, and help them discern the next faithful step.
From October 7 to 14, Pope Leo XIV convened Church leaders and families in Rome to reflect on the exhortation’s first ten years. Bishop Joseph Dabrowski of Hamilton was among the Canadian participants. Reports following the gathering highlighted the need for sustained accompaniment, including support extending beyond the wedding day, and a greater recognition of families as active participants in the Church’s mission. Their experience and gifts have something to teach the whole Church.
At the opening of the gathering, Pope Leo asked: “What kind of Church, then, do people encounter precisely when they are most fragile?” For Concerned Lay Catholics, this question has particular urgency in walking alongside survivors of abuse within the Church. Making room means listening to survivors on their own terms, respecting their choices, and allowing their voices to shape the Church’s response. It calls us to accompany them with patience and care, while working for the accountability and change that make our communities safer.
Such encounters ask us to remember our own imperfect lives. We, too, know the distance between the people we hope to be and the lives we manage to live. Remembering our own need for grace can soften our judgments and deepen the patience we offer. We accompany one another as people who are still learning to receive God’s love and respond to it. We have needed patience, forgiveness, and the opportunity to begin again. Awareness of our own dependence on grace can help us accompany others with greater tenderness. We walk together as people who continue to need God and one another.
Perhaps this is how our communities become “thin places.” Someone discovers that they can speak honestly and still belong. Someone returns after a long absence and finds that their gifts are wanted. Someone whose life remains difficult experiences the relief of no longer carrying it alone. In these encounters, God’s nearness becomes tangible through the care we offer and receive. A faith that makes room grows through this patient openness to one another.