A long time ago, a popular magazine published a short test for people who were worried that they might be depressed. One of the questions was “Do you whistle?” And if yes, “Have you stopped whistling?” It seems that in general, people who whistle are happy people. Though at first , I thought this was a silly question, I have noticed in my own life, while not a big whistler, when I am stressed out, I do stop whistling and humming.
“Sing with Joy to God our Help” is today’s Psalm refrain and it got me thinking about Saint Augustine’s thought that singing is “praying twice.” I have always thought that the Negro Spirituals prove this point so well. Spirituals teach us that indeed song can most fully express the deepest sorrow of our soul and were the prayer of a people who believed that always in God there is hope—nothing that life throws at us will be greater than God’s love. Recently, a friend‘s comment about another song from the American Christian tradition brought this to life once more.
I gathered with some of the folks with whom I lived when I was a doctoral student in Rome. One friend, Lynda is just a year past her final treatment for breast cancer. I had not seen Lynda for more than three years and so you can imagine how great it was to see her with a full head of hair, looking so healthy and feeling so good. We were gathered for a colloquium and retreat and the person coordinating music asked if we had any song requests for liturgy. I suggested How Can I Keep From Singing. Lynda leaned over and said “That is one of the songs I downloaded on my Ipod during treatment. As you might guess we shared a few tears as we sang “No fear can shake my inmost calm while to that rock I’m clinging…”
For a song I have always loved, it now has even more meaning knowing that it was part of Lynda’s prayer as she entrusted herself and her family to God’s care. Do you have a song that you sing with joy to God our Help?
Note: While this group of young people in the video may not be professional, they sound like the way a congregation would sing this at Mass!
“Follow your heart” and “pursue your dreams” are advice often given to young people today. In eighteenth century Italy, however, young Alphonsus Liguori faced an entirely different set of expectations. Because he was “upper class” by birth, he was expected to pursue a professional career and get married to someone of his social standing. Therefore, when Alphonsus decided to enter the priesthood, his father was outraged, and refused to speak with him for two years. Alphonsus was resolute, however, and after ordination he continued his break from aristocratic expectations by serving in desolate city slums and remote mountain regions. Later, when he was named bishop in a mostly well-to-do diocese, he thought that it must be a punishment for his sins.
The experiences of St. Alphonsus Liguori remind us that when we open our hearts and allow God to touch our lives, our future will be anything but conventional, safe, or predictable. Indeed, we’ll find ourselves challenging our culture, and being challenged by it; we’ll break molds, and break out of pigeonholes; we’ll defy the expectations of others, but with grace we’ll exceed them. God’s plans are indeed full of surprises, presenting us with both joys and crosses that we could never foresee.
Today, as we continue our uncharted journeys, we’d do well to echo these words of St. Alphonsus himself: “I offer myself entirely to you (God), that you might do with me and all that belongs to me as you please.”
The cities of the Northeast and upper Midwest were once teeming with Catholics. The city centers featured many and thriving Catholic parishes of various ethnic derivations. Catholics were uptown, down town and all around town. Some of the blocks in the older Chicago neighborhoods would even feature several parishes: there was the Polish Parish, the Irish, the German, and Italian, each of them little cities within themselves. Consider a description of old Chicago and other Catholic cities of the Northeast, by John McGreevy in his Book, Parish Boundaries which I summarize:
Virtually all the Catholic immigrant groups were within two generations of immigration, and all placed enormous financial, social, and cultural weight on the parish church as an organizer of local life. A Detroit study found 70% of Catholics claiming to attend services once a week, as opposed to 33% of the city’s white Protestants, and 12% of the city’s Jews….
The Catholic churches whether they were Polish, Italian, Portuguese, or Irish, simply dominated the life and activities of the community. The Catholic world, supervised by priests was disciplined and local. Many parishes sponsored enormous neighborhood carnivals each year (with local politicians making appearances and local businesses donating supplies).
Most parishes also contained a large number of formal organizations – including youth groups, mother’s clubs, parish choirs, and fraternal organizations – each with a priest moderator, the requisite fundraisers and group masses. Parish sports teams for even the youngest boys shaped parish identity, with fierce rivalries developing in Catholic sports leagues.
The dense social networks centered themselves around an institutional structure of enormous magnitude. Virtually every parish in the northern cities included a church (often of remarkable scale), a parochial school, a convent, a rectory and often ancillary gymnasiums or auditoriums. Even hostile observers professed admiration for the marvelous organization and discipline of the Roman Catholic Church. [e.g. Holy Family Church in Chicago with its massive school next door, more buildings are behind].
Brooklyn alone contained on hundred and twenty-nine parishes and over one hundred Catholic elementary schools. In New York city more generally forty-five orders of religious men lived. Nuns managed twenty-five hospitals…schools enrolled 214,000 students. This list of summer camps, colleges and universities , retreat centers, retirement homes, seminaries and orphanages was daunting.
For all Euro-American Catholic groups, neighborhood, parish, and religion were constantly intertwined…Small statues of Mary or local saints appeared in neighborhood yards, while crosses and religious artifacts decorated individual rooms. Catholic parishes routinely sponsored parades and processions through the streets of the parish.
Catholic leaders leaders deliberately created a Catholic counterpart for virtually every secular organization. The assumption was that the parish must make every effort to become the real center of attraction in the lives of the parishioners, it must become the hub around which a large number of their interests revolve. [McGreevy, pp. 13-28]
Decline – We are well aware and have discussed on this blog frequently that many of these once thriving centers of Catholicism are in decline. Parishes and schools are closing in large numbers. The dramatic decline in Mass attendance from numbers near or above 70% down to our current 27% is part of the explanation. But another part of the explanation in the migration of Catholics out of the cities and out of the Northeast.
The first of the great migrations took place after the Second World War when Catholic moved in large numbers to the newly created and growing suburbs. They moved from uptown and downtown to “out of town.” The once great churches of the city center grew gradually more empty and less vital.
The initial experience in the suburbs was similar: large parishes, large schools, large buildings, all packed to the gills, and many activities. But suburban life was less tightly knit and ethnic ties were also being lost in those days in the great melting pot of the American experience. In a very subtle, but steady way, the cohesiveness of Catholics and parish life was becoming less a dominant force. Slowly Catholics ventured out of the Catholic “Ghetto” and sought wider connections and approval outside the Catholic world. The election of John F. Kennedy both symbolized and furthered this trend.
Then in successive waves, the sexual revolution, and the over all cultural revolution of the late 1960s caught Catholics and the Church unprepared. As secularism has grown and eroded the influence faith once had, even many of the flourishing suburban parishes of the post-war era are now much smaller and far less vital.
The second of the great migrations is occurring right now as Catholics, in large numbers, have left the “uptowns,” “downtowns” and “just out of towns” of the northeast and are headed “low down” to the south, and the Southeast. A quote from a recent CARA blog illustrates this point:
[Consider that], in 2001, the Archdiocese of Atlanta had more than 320,000 Catholics, 131 active diocesan priests, and 77 parishes (note in 1991, the Archdiocese had 176,000 Catholics and 65 parishes). Moving a decade ahead, the diocese now has 900,000 Catholics, 141 active diocesan priests, and 87 parishes. Thus, the number of Catholics increased by 181% in the last decade but the number priests only increased by 8% and the number of parishes by 13%. This means the number of Catholics per parish in the Archdiocese has grown from 4,156 in 2001 to 10,345 in 2011. Ten new parishes have been added to accommodate 580,000 additional Catholics. [1]
Now that is remarkable growth. And many cities of the South and Southwest are having similar experiences. As can be seen, the growth is so remarkable and so quick that it is difficult to keep up. Due to a shortage of priests and other resources, the usual approach of southern and southwestern dioceses is to build large churches that can seat well over 1000 and establish what is, in effect a mega church.
I have celebrated masses in the deep south, in some of these parishes, and the experience is quite amazing. One parish near Jacksonville, Fla, where I celebrated one Sunday, seated over 2200. It was a tasteful, in fact a very beautiful Church, but it was big, with a fan shaped main floor and a spacious balcony ringing three sides. The place was packed that morning, with three other masses scheduled and a vigil the night before, all filled or at least well attended. Forty-eight extraordinary ministers of Holy Communion came forward to assist with the distribution. The parking lot outside featured shuttle buses to get the farthest parkers back and forth. The pastor explained that this was the trend in the south. With few priests, parishes have to built big to get as many Catholics in at one time as possible and keep the number of masses manageable for the priests.
At one level it all seems very exciting to hear of booming Catholic Parishes that need parking shuttle buses. It reminds one of the massive and flourishing parishes that once filled the northeastern cities. But there are some concerns that go with these mega-parishes. It is articulated at the CARA blog:
[A] study, conducted by CARA, … finds that larger U.S. parishes tend to have lower rates of attendance, lower levels of sacramental activity per household, and less giving per registered household than what is reported in smaller parishes. [So], there appears to be a size limit at which the parish community begins to become less active and less giving. [2]
In other words, such parishes risk loosing personal contact with souls. And without personal contact and a sense of being an integral member of a community, it is easier for people to drift and fall away. Large numbers can hide steady erosion for a while but it would seem that the impersonal nature of large parishes allows the faithful to become disengaged. They can also hide behind the notion that “someone in this big parish will handle the trouble that the pastor is enunciating.” As impressive as large parishes are, it is clear from our experiences after the war, and now, that they can also become unraveled very quickly if no one feels essential.
The CARA blog concludes:
As we have shown in a previous post, there are not a lot of dioceses building new parishes in areas where the Catholic population moved and is growing strongly…..But a parish building boom will likely be needed in the U.S. Sun Belt in the 21st century….It may be time to ask, with great care as well, when and how do we open new parishes where they are needed? After moving, will Catholics always have a new Catholic home to “come home” to? [3]
I do not know what the perfect size for a parish is. And even if I say a number, vocations to the priesthood are simply going to be a factor. As for me, I have 900 registered families and about 550 on a Sunday morning. For me, this is a perfect number. It is large enough for us to be financially viable, indeed we do very well, money wise. It is also large enough that I can have a fairly diverse cadre of volunteers to accomplish needed tasks. Yet is small enough for one priest to handle and even can get to know many people well. It is small enough too that people know each other well and people are missed when the drift away. But this model cannot be sustained diocesan-wide. We just don’t have enough priests to staff enough parishes at this scale.
But, it would seem, that large parishes still need a small town feel and experience, according to the CARA study. It makes sense, otherwise, people get lost. So, small targeted groups that gather in large parishes are needed to provide the personal encounters so necessary in our Christian walk. Perhaps it is targeted Bible studies, fraternal organizations, mother’s groups, etc.
The great mega parishes of the 20th Century urban north had their day but collapsed quickly, for it would seem that their communal ties declined after the War, or were not as deep as they were thought to be. People left too quickly for us to conclude that urban and ethnic communities had ties that really bound them together after WWII. It would seem we were a 1000 miles wide, but only two inches thick. The large suburban parishes of the postwar suburban north and east have also struggled to keep Catholics tied in. Big looks great but it isn’t necessarily better. While it is true we cannot simply build lots of small parishes, we have to be creative and build communities within parishes wherein there is accountability and love, something personal and engaging, something which makes people experience that they are essential to the Lord and to the Church. Doin’ the uptown, low down, may not be the dance we want to recreate as the Church spreads (low down) to the south.
I am interested in your thoughts, especially if you are member of a large Catholic Parish.
Photo Credits:
Holy Family Church (Upper Right) from the Archdiocese of Chicago Archive,
Lower Left, Our Lady Queen of the Universe, Orlando, from the Website.
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Here are some fond remembrances of going to Catholic School in Chicago:
A few years back, I taught a course at my parish on the sacrament of the Holy Eucharist. During one session, I spoke about the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist- how bread and wine are changed into the very Body and Blood of Christ. At one point, one of the participants raised her hand, and explained that she felt strongly moved to speak. She told how once she had been attending a daily Mass at St. Matthew’s Cathedral in downtown Washington. The priest who was preaching had just returned from Jerusalem. While he was there, he walked the famous Via Dolorosa- the Way of the Cross- the route tradition says Jesus walked on Good Friday. While she listened to this, the woman thought: “How wonderful to have been so close to Jesus!” Then at that moment, a voice in her heart said, “But not as close as I am to you now.” She knew that voice to be the voice of the Lord, and she has treasured ever since then that reminder that we are never as close to the Lord as when we receive him at Mass, in the Eucharist.
This is something we need to keep in mind as we consider today’s gospel. Jesus’ miracle of loaves and fishes is meant to teach us about the Eucharist. Because just as Jesus took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to the crowds, so too at Mass a priest does exactly the same thing: He takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to the congregation.
This bread that is broken, however, is no ordinary bread. As the woman in my class reminded us, that bread is the Body of Christ. Jesus is present in that consecrated bread, not in an empty, symbolic way, but in a real, personal way. That’s why we genuflect whenever we pass before a tabernacle- because Jesus himself is there.
When this bread is broken at Mass, it’s a special sign to us that Jesus is able to multiply his presence in the Eucharist just as he multiplied the bread in today’s gospel miracle. In other words, Jesus is present in the same way in the hundreds of millions of consecrated hosts, or wafers of bread, that will be consumed by faithful Catholics at Masses all around the world today.
That’s a pretty amazing thing, if you think about it. However, Jesus is able to multiply his presence in another way too. He does so through you and me. Just like the Eucharistic bread, we too are called the body of Christ. St. Paul says that we are one bread, one body. As individuals, however, we are sent forth at the end of Mass to make Jesus present in our homes and in our communities. In other words, we too are bread that is broken so that Jesus can be present in many places, all at the same time.
I know of a church in a rough part of the Bronx that is under the pastoral care of a group of Franciscan priests and brothers. They’ve made a point of getting to know the people in the neighborhood. When they meet them on the sidewalk in front of the church, they’ll often say, “Jesus is inside. Why don’t you stop in and pray?” And many people do! However, shouldn’t we be able to say that about our own homes too? Shouldn’t people be able to find Jesus under our roof because we are such good witnesses to Jesus? We must always remember that just as Jesus broke the bread to nourish everyone in the crowd, we are bread broken so that the world might be nourished through our witness to Christ.
In another, way however, many of us are already broken. Not broken bread, but broken people. We all have wounds and hurts that we carry with us, and we come to Jesus in the Eucharist, seeking to be made whole again. We come so that the hardships of life won’t crush us, but will instead bring us a little bit closer to Christ- he who was broken on the cross so that we might be healed. We seek broken bread to heal our very brokenness.
Just consider today’s gospel. Great crowds of people had followed Jesus into the wilderness- looking for hope, looking for meaning, looking for healing, looking for love, looking for God. Jesus knew their needs. He had pity on them; he cured their illnesses, and fed them until they were all satisfied.
And isn’t that what Jesus does for us in the Eucharist? Isn’t that what Jesus can do for us, right now? We come to him in our brokenness, and he in turn gives himself to us. He gives us his “eu charis,” which means “good gift” and he nourishes us, forgives us, strengthens us, heals us, and fills us with his own, abundant life. He heals our loneliness through his Real Presence. And he unites us to his sacrifice on the cross, so that we might be made whole, through his having been broken.
If you’re suffering right now- and that’s probably most of us in some way- I encourage you to attend Mass as often as you can. As I priest, I have the privilege of celebrating daily Mass, and through my ministry I’ve come to know the stories of many of those who worship with me. There’s the terminally ill patient; the lonely widower; the young man whose brother is in Iraq; the employee mistreated by her boss; the father with the sick child; the victim struggling to forgive; the addict looking for freedom; the husband with the strained marriage; the mother of the rebellious teen. We stand around the altar in our brokenness, asking Jesus to put the broken pieces back together.
And he does, because he loves us. That’s why he have us the Eucharist: To feed us as broken bread; to be present to us as broken bread; to send us forth to others as broken bread; and then, through that bread, to make us whole, once again.
We have today the very familiar miracle of the loaves and fishes. One is tempted to say, “Oh that one…and tune out.” But, if we allow it, the gospel today contains a very personal appeal from the Lord’s lips to your (my) ears: “There is no need to dismiss the crowds, give them some food yourself.”
Immediately all the objections swim through our minds, but be still, and let us allow the Lord to instruct us and apply this Gospel in five stages.
I. THE IMAGE THAT IS EXTOLLED – The text says, When Jesus heard of the death of John the Baptist, he withdrew in a boat to a deserted place by himself. The crowds heard of this and followed him on foot from their towns. When he disembarked and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, and he cured their sick.
The text begins with a very sad note of the death of Jesus’ cousin, John the Baptist. We should not simply dismiss the kind of human grief he must have experienced, and the text says he wants to go apart for a while, presumably to pray and grieve. It would seem, at the pinnacle of his public ministry, he could only get apart by going out on a boat, and so he does. The text is unclear how long he was out on the water, but it implies a short time.
Approaching the opposite shore Jesus sees a large crowd, and is moved with pity. He teaches them at great length and heals the sick. And here is the image that is extolled. If Jesus has allowed himself this moment of grief, he also shows that the way out of it is love and concern for others. For it is too easy for us, in our own grief, anger, sorrow, or anxiety to retreat, to hide away. As an immediate reaction this is understandable. But it is not a disposition we ought to maintain for long. For others have need, and even in our grief and our limits, we are still called to reach out. And that very reaching out, often contains our own healing too.
That we have needs, does not mean others stop having them. Jesus shows the courage and the love to still recognize the needs of others, even in his own grief. So he goes ashore and shares love with others.
II. THE ISSUE THAT IS EVADED – The text says, When it was evening, the disciples approached him and said, “This is a deserted place and it is already late; dismiss the crowds so that they can go to the villages and buy food for themselves.”
There is a human tendency, that when people are needy, we want them to go away, to disappear. Hence, the apostles, noticing the needy crowd, a crowd about to have a hunger problem, they want the crowd to go away before they become a problem.
We too, both individually and collectively, often desire the needy and poor to just disappear. If we see a beggar, we may cross the street, or refuse to look at him. If our caller ID indicates a troubled family member who may ask for money or want to talk a long time, we let the call go to voice mail. In society we tend to segregate the poor and needy. The “not in my backyard” (NIMBY) syndrome seeks to segregate the poor, the mentally handicapped and others to certain marginal sections of the city largely out of sight, and out of mind. The sick and the dying too are often relegated to nursing homes. Perhaps this is necessary for proper care, but the thought of an elderly relative living and dying in our homes is too much for many, even when it is possible. So, generally people go away to die.
Notice the threefold basis of the disciples evasion:
They are DESPAIRING – for they say, this is a deserted place and it is already late.
They are DISMISSIVE – for they want Jesus to dismiss the crowd, to send them away.
They are DETACHED – for instead of wanting to help, they want the crowd to go away and get food for themselves.
Yes, it is a sad human tendency to want to be rid of people who have problems. And so the disciples beg Jesus to send the increasingly troublesome crowd away. The Issue is evaded, rather than accepted as a shared problem to be solved together.
III. THE INSTRUCTION THAT ENSUES – Jesus said to them, “There is no need for them to go away; give them some food yourselves.”
Uh oh! This is starting to get personal. Jesus is not willing to keep this merely as a problem “they” have, he wants me to do something!
Yes, he rejects their premise by saying there is no need for them to go away. And he redirects plan by saying, give them something to eat yourselves.
Refusing to accept the presence of the poor and needy, is simply not a viable option for Jesus, or for us who would be his disciples. He wants and expects us to get started with a solution, a solution that includes both “them” and us. It looks like we are our brother’s keeper.
This is the instruction that ensues when the apostles, or when we, try to evade the issue.
IV. THE INSUFFICIENCY THAT IS EXPRESSED – the text says, But they said to him, “Five loaves and two fish are all we have here.”
But we can’t possibly pull this thing off, the needs are far too great! The Lord is not interested in our excuses, he just says, “Let’s get started.”
Observe two things about the five loaves and two fishes.
First, as John’s Gospel notes, (6:9), the loaves and fishes came from among the poor themselves. Hence this is not mere do-goodism. The teaching here is not to be a “limousine liberal” who rolls down the window and throws money to the poor, then goes back to his mansion. Neither is it a “we’re from the government and we’re here to help you” solution. For we should not do for others what they can reasonably do for themselves. Rather we ought to work with the poor, engaging them in what they do have, in the talents and leadership they do possess, and solve problems with them, rather than merely for them. There are loaves and fishes among even the poor, there are talents and resources to be included in the solution.
Secondly, wherever the loaves and fishes come from, they are not nothing, and the Lord expects all of us to be part of the solution. Simply telling God or, (these days), the government, to go and do something, is not a full or authentic Christian response.
Hence our complaints about meager resources do not impress the Lord who says, simply, bring them to me. The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. And thus we go to the principle point.
V. THE IMMENSITY THAT IS EXPERIENCED – the text says, Then he said, “Bring them here to me, ” and he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up to heaven, he said the blessing, broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, who in turn gave them to the crowds. They all ate and were satisfied, and they picked up the fragments left over— twelve wicker baskets full. Those who ate were about five thousand men, not counting women and children.
Now this story is so familiar that you and I are not shocked by the outcome. But no matter how many times we hear it, we still do not really accept it’s astonishing truth:
I can do all things in God who strengthens me (Phil 4:13)
All things are possible to him who believes (Mk 9:23)
For man it is impossible, but not with God, for all things are possible with God (Mk 10:27)
Now he who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will also supply and increase your store of seed and will enlarge the harvest of your righteousness. (2 Cor 9:10)
Now take special note of that last quote, for this gospel is about more than caring for the poor, (and it is about that). But this Gospel is also about taking this world back for Christ.
We all know that this world is in an increasingly bad state: rampant secularism, moral relativism, and a Church with many self-inflicted wounds. This has all led to the fact that we have a real mess on our hands. And the problems are overwhelming: sexual confusion, the culture of death, the breakdown of marriage, compulsive sin, compulsive overspending, greed, insensitivity to the poor, deep and widespread addiction to pornography, drugs, and alcohol, abortion, widespread promiscuity, adultery, corruption, cynicism, low mass attendance and on an on.
The problems seem overwhelming and our resources seem so limited to turn back the tide. What will we ever do with only five loaves and two fishes?
Jesus says, bring them to me.
Yet again, the journey of a thousand miles begins with just one step. The conversion of the whole world, begins with me. As I look the huge problems before me, I (this means you) assess my loaves and fishes:
I work on my own conversion. For a holier world has to start with me. If I get holier, the world get’s holier.
I look to the poor I can serve, maybe with money maybe with talents, like tutoring, counseling etc. Maybe just with the time of listening.
I pick up the phone and call a family member I know is hurting.
I love my spouse and children.
I spend time properly raising my own children to know the Lord and seek his kingdom.
I exhort the weak in my own family, and with love, rebuke sin and encourage righteousness.
If I am a priest or religious, I faithfully live my vocation, and heroically call others to Christ by teaching and proclaiming the gospel without compromise.
If I am a young person I seek to devoutly prepare myself for a vocation to marriage, priesthood or religious life.
If I am older I seek to manifest wisdom and good example to those who are young.
If I am elderly, I seek to devoutly prepare myself for death, and to give good example in this, and to witness the desire for heaven.
I will pray for this world and attend mass faithfully, begging God’s mercy on this sin soaked world.
It is too easy to lament this world’s condition and, like the apostles, feel overwhelmed. Jesus just says, bring me what you have, and let’s get started. The conversion of the whole world will begin with me, with my meager loaves and fishes.
And Jesus will surely multiply them, he will not fail. Already there is renewal evident in the Church, through a faithful remnant willing to bring their loaves fishes, some of the things mentioned above and more besides. They are bringing them to Jesus and he is multiplying them. Renewal is happening, and signs of spring are evident in the Church.
There is an old saying that it is easier to wear slippers that to carpet the whole of the earth. Indeed it is. If it is a converted world you want start with yourself. Bring your loaves and fishes to Jesus, bring your slippers, and let’s get started. It begins with me.
This song says,
If I can help somebody, as I pass along,
If I can cheer somebody, with a word or song,
If I can show somebody, how they’re traveling wrong,
Then my living shall not be in vain.
If I can do my duty, as a good man ought,
If I can bring back beauty, to a world up wrought,
If I can spread love’s message, as the Master taught,
Then my living shall not be in vain.
In the Gospels Jesus says: “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me, draws him.” (John 6:44) Now the Greek word here is ἑλκύσῃ (elkuse) which means “to draw or to drag” and the word always implies some sort of resistance. In a way, Jesus more than implies that all of us who do believe have offered some resistance, and the Father had to drag us along!
“Oh, not me!” you might say, “I have been a believer since my youth!” Well, get used to it, all of us are a “hard case” to God. Truth is, our flesh (our carnal “sin-nature”) does not want to believe, does not want to be told what to do. God, working through others has to drag us along. It is true, some of us are harder cases than others but all of us are still in the category “hard case.” We can be very stubborn, willful, and stiff necked. We can also rationalize very easily and convince ourselves that sin is no big deal and even not sin at all.
Of us, God says this through the Prophet Isaiah: For I know how stubborn you are; the sinews of your neck are iron, your forehead is bronze (Is 48:4). In other words, God says to us, I know that you are stubborn. Like iron, you are hardheaded. Like bronze, and nothing gets through your thick skull. Are we a hard case? You betcha….
Yes, indeed we have to be dragged along by God and our carnal nature resists. So, if you’ve come to Jesus, thank the Father, he had to drag you and me here! And, like wandering sheep, he often has to go out and drag us back. “No one can come to me,” says Jesus, “Unless the Father draws (drags!) him.” Again, if you have faith, thank the Father! You might say we have a “drug problem.” The problem is that we have to be “drug along” at every stage of our lives.
There is an old Internet standard you may have read elsewhere that reflects this need to be “drug”
I had a drug problem when I was young: I was drug to church on Sunday morning. I was drug to church for weddings and funerals. I was drug to family reunions and community socials no matter the weather. I was drug by my ears when I was disrespectful to adults. I was also drug to the woodshed when I disobeyed my parents, told a lie, brought home a bad report card, did not speak with respect, spoke ill of the teacher or the preacher. Or if I didn’t put forth my best effort in everything that was asked of me. I was drug to the kitchen sink to have my mouth washed out with soap if I uttered a profane four letter word. I was drug out to pull weeds in mom’s garden and flower beds and to do my chores. I was drug to the homes of family, friends, and neighbors to help out some poor soul who had no one to mow the yard, repair the clothesline or chop some fire wood. And if my mother had ever known that I took a single dime as a tip for this kindness, she would have drug me back to the wood shed. Those drugs are still in my veins; and they affect my behavior in everything I do, say, and think. They are stronger than cocaine, crack, or heroin, and if today’s children had this kind of drug problem, America might be a better place today.
Here’s a gospel song by Kurt Carr that describes how God has to hold us close not only because we are stubborn but also because, sometimes we despair:
On our refrigerator is a little card with a picture of Jesus. On the back it says, “Lord, help me to remember that nothing will happen to me that we can’t handle together!”
I thought of this card as I reflected on Martha in today’s gospel. Martha, I think, is like so many of us today. As Jesus said, she’s “anxious and worried.” She’s also not paying attention to Jesus, which may very well be the reason she’s so stressed out in the first place. On the other hand, Martha’s sister Mary, who took the time to be with Jesus and listen to him, is calm and at peace. As Jesus said, she had the “better part.”
Perhaps something we’re meant to learn from this is that whenever we’re “anxious and worried” like Martha, we need to be like Mary and spend some time with Jesus. One thing I’ve been trying to do lately, first thing in the morning, is ask Jesus to help me turn all of my worried thoughts into opportunities for prayer, so that instead of dwelling on them and getting more stressed, Jesus might shed his light upon them and give me some of his peace. Through this little prayer, Jesus…
…reminds me that he’s in charge…
…invites me to hand all my troubles over to him…
…and, like the little card on my refrigerator, assures me that together, there’s nothing that he and I can’t handle.
When I was a young priest I used to bring communion to an elderly woman who would often puzzle over what on earth a priest would do on days other than Sunday. “You must be rather bored” she’d often say. “Oh, not exactly!” I would retort. “Well, what can you possibly have to do after you say Mass?” “Well, of course I am here visiting you!” “Well, that just takes a few minutes” she’d say. “Well, I do have few other things to do this week:”
The other 15 sick calls I have through the week,
the daily visits to the school,
the evening appointments for marriage prep., marriage counseling, meetings with spiritual directees,
Weekly RCIA instructions,
Weekly Bible Study,
Hospital calls,
Funeral on Wednesday,
Sermon prep,
I have to remember to prepare of class notes for the Adult Education class on Sunday,
2pm Staff meeting,
10:00 am Saturday Parish Council,
Finance Council meeting Thursday,
Youth group meeting Friday night,
School staff meeting Friday at 3:30pm
Meeting with CCD teachers to discuss curriculum changes,
Boiler contractor wants to discuss water treatment
Gotta remember to call cleaning supply vendor regarding his proposal.
Looks like the diocesan meeting was cancelled (whew!) but rescheduled for next week (whew!),
The Synder’s want to schedule a house blessing,
The interfaith network is a requesting a clergy meeting for next Tuesday
Mr Evans has planned a meeting of the evangelization planning committee and I have to call and confirm that I can be there briefly to discuss the walking strategy on Wednesday evening before Bible Study.
I should probably mention that there are often walk up appointments at the rectory requesting to see the priest,
15 – 20 Phone messages a day to be returned
And then there’s those moments where a staff member sticks her head in the door and says, “Oh by the Father, the school staff is upset at the way the Ladies Guild left the stove on again and the principle wants to talk with you about it before the staff meeting.” “Oh, and Father? That strange man is back in the church again and he’s scaring the ladies in the rosary group. Could you go over and take a look?….And, by the way Father, remember to call Mrs. Deale who wants to start Eucharistic Adoration in the parish and wants you to preach more on it and attend an organizational meeting next Tuesday…..”
Oh, I forgot to mention the evening Wedding this Saturday and that I make a daily holy hour and say Mass each day.
“Ah, yes,” I said to her: “Not much to do, really.” 🙂
And this description I gave her was all back in the days before cell phones, e-mail, and blogging! But its all good; just sometimes too much of a good thing! Yet I wouldn’t have it any other way. And truth be told, we priests are busy, but not so much busier than most people. I think of my brothers who work all day and then come home to homes full of kids and ten thousand, thousand things to do each week. Their wives too, have lists that are endless, and I’ll bet you do as well. Life is full, but also fulfilling, if we find some boundaries, and love what we do by God’s grace.
All this to introduce a very good video that depicts the week of a parish priest. It is a very good production which I hope you’ll enjoy as much as I. The life of a priest is rich, and varied. But please understand that, from time to time when you call, we might not be at our desk waiting to answer the phone. The vineyard beckons!
I have celebrated masses in the deep south, in some of these parishes, and the experience is quite amazing. One parish near Jacksonville, Fla, where I celebrated one Sunday, seated over 2200. It was a tasteful, in fact a very beautiful Church, but it was big, with a fan shaped main floor and a spacious balcony ringing three sides. The place was packed that morning, with three other masses scheduled and a vigil the night before, all filled or at least well attended. Forty-eight extraordinary ministers of Holy Communion came forward to assist with the distribution. The parking lot outside featured shuttle buses to get the farthest parkers back and forth. The pastor explained that this was the trend in the south. With few priests, parishes have to built big to get as many Catholics in at one time as possible and keep the number of masses manageable for the priests.