Parish Missions

Again, As If for the First Time

Some thirty years ago, at a retreat I would have preferred not being on, I found myself wondering not only what I was doing there, but why I was even a Catholic. Realizing that at that time, I was far from being a minority on the planet, perhaps that experience might bring some light to bear on the alienation sweeping the Church today, as statistics reveal as many as 60-70% of Catholics do not attend church regularly. Even if those numbers are debated, the decline in attendance can hardly be denied. So perhaps today’s Scriptures can address this issue.

I had been away from the institution known as the Catholic Church for nearly ten years, when I wound up on that retreat. The institution’s “my way or the highway to hell” drove me away. The institution's lack of compassion for the divorced and remarried, the attitude toward women, the marginalization of gays and lesbians which often offered license to bigots, all these issues bothered that thirty-something, educated layman. Though I had often shuddered at the simplistic “WWJD,” – what would Jesus do, it seemed to fit the crisis of faith I was undergoing. Where was Jesus’ persistent appeal to treat all people with compassion and mercy?

It was with that attitude that I reluctantly entered that retreat. The priest directing the weekend was not a particularly effective preacher, and his first request to write in one sentence what we would want to get out of the experience confirmed my suspicions. To this day I have no idea why or how I, in that state of mind, came to write:

I want to come to know Jesus as if for the first time.

Ignoring the priest’s subsequent presentation, I stared at that sentence. It was like being struck over the head. I left that session searching the retreat center for Francis Thompson’s poem, “The Hound of Heaven,” in which he images Christ as a hound who relentlessly chases after the runaway soul. Thus began a period of really getting to know the one who loved me so deeply that all the baggage I carried was no longer an obstacle, but rather a prerequisite to his embrace!

That experience led me to see the Scriptures, like those proclaimed today, as yet another invitation to rethink the call to discipleship. Jesus calls us to do faith, not to just profess it, just as he charges us to do Eucharist when he said, “do this in memory of me.” Jesus is more concerned with the concrete, day to day evidence of faith rather than feelings, with demonstrations of the compassion and justice that are at the heart of his life, message and mission. I began to see that discipleship was not contingent on the institution, but rather on my personal responsibility for living a life in imitation of his.

Jesus demands a faith built on solid ground. He wants disciples who follow his lead in reaching out to the marginalized and the lost. The only people Jesus consistently debates are those who use their position to lord it over others, as in last Wednesday’s Gospel, when the disciples were openly vying for positions of honor in the Reign of God; to them Jesus offers the seminal challenge of discipleship:

“… whoever wishes to be great among you will be your servant;

whoever wishes to be first among you will be the slave of all.”

Perhaps the anger, mistrust, and frustration I felt towards those in authority in the Church were misdirected. It was my own lack of faith that was at issue. I was allowing the shortcomings of others to mask my own. That the institution was in crisis (and is today) was beside the point; being pre-occupied with anger and resentment towards others was simply counter-productive to my own call to discipleship.

I had a choice. I could remain bitter and angry, or I could embrace what Jesus would do as a way of life. So I chose compassion and mercy as he did. The institution could quibble over who was in and who was out. He welcomed me in time and time again. I would do the same.

In many ways that choice faces many us again today. It was this time of year when I went on that retreat—just before Lent began. The challenge the Holy Spirit placed before me then is always with me. It helps me renew my commitment. Might it not be so for you? What would such a challenge mean for you this coming Lent and for the quality of your discipleship? What if during this Lent, we all sought to put ourselves in the shoes of our catechumens who are coming to him for the first time? It could make this Lent a transforming experience: just you and he journeying together, listening to one another’s story, becoming more fully aware of the power of mercy and compassion, coming to know each other as if for the first time.