14 May 2017
5th Sunday of Easter, Year A
Trying to live as a community takes work. It doesn’t seem to matter what kind of
community we’re talking about; it takes a deliberate effort to make it
work.
For instance, when the United States was coming to be, it
took a Revolutionary War, lots of arguing, compromise, and a lot of heartache
for our founders to come up with our basic societal structures and system of
self-government. Of course, that’s on a
large scale. So, consider also the small
scale; for instance, when two people get married.
A marriage is a community of two. And it takes work to make that union
work. There’s probably debate about the
smallest details: Who’s going to make sure the bills are paid? Who’s going to take care of the garbage and
the house cleaning? Who’s going to make
sure the newlyweds stay active in their church?
What are the ground rules for this new household, this new community
that’s taking shape?
Trying to live as a community takes work. And it doesn’t seem to matter what kind of
community we’re talking about; it takes a deliberate effort to make it
work. And this is no different in the
community of faith.
Just three weeks ago, we read in the Acts of the Apostles
that the early Christians were doing well.
We heard that “They devoted themselves to the teaching of the apostles
and to the communal life. All who
believed were together and had all things in common. Every day they devoted
themselves to meeting together in the temple area and to breaking bread in
their homes. They ate their meals with
exultation and sincerity of heart, praising God and enjoying favor with all the
people” [Acts 2:42-46].
But now, today—just four chapters later in the Acts of the
Apostles—we hear there was disagreement in the community. And what’s interesting is that this was only
three or four years after the Resurrection of Jesus and the first
Pentecost. After only three or four
years the Christian community was already starting to have tensions within itself—and
for good reason.
We know from the Acts of the Apostles that “every day the
Lord added to their number those who were being saved” [Acts 2:47]. Every day the community got larger. And, as we know, the more people there are
coming together, the more chance there is for disagreement among them, and the
more need there is for organization and rules.
The difference between Chapter 2 and Chapter 6 in the Acts of the
Apostles is that the Christian community had grown in numbers, and it had become
more diversified. And so the work and
struggle of being a community of faith became harder.
And almost goes without saying that this same dynamic of
communal growth, tension, resolution, and further growth is just part and
parcel of what it means to be part of the Church. To be part of the Catholic Church means
learning how to live with one another—emphasis on the word “learning.” It takes work, and heartache, and headaches,
and laws and structure, and lots and lots of prayer and humility and
faith.
Being part of the Church doesn’t mean that every day is going
to be a “mountaintop experience.” You
know, some days it’s going to be nothing but a chore to try to be charitable to
a fellow parishioner. Some days we’re
going to think about a brother or sister in Christ and wonder, “What in the
world are they doing?” And then there
are days when you just want to jump ship and get off this crazy ride we call
“the Church.”
But we don’t. We stick
with it. Not because we like conflict,
but because of our common, shared faith.
In Scripture today we heard that “the Twelve called together
the community of the disciples and said, ‘It is not right for us to neglect the
word of God to serve at table.’” Now,
this is a particularly important line for me as an ordained priest. But, really, it’s an important line for all
the faithful, who are “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a
people of God’s own.” And it’s important
because it reminds us of a basic structure that underlies any community of faith.
The basic structure is: to put God first, and material goods
second; and then to have certain people within the community whose job it is to
make sure that God is first and material goods are second. In the Gospel of Luke, there’s a scene where
Jesus is teaching the crowds about heaven, and then a man interrupts him to ask
for help with a legal problem he’s having with his inheritance. And Jesus’ response is: “Friend, who
appointed me as your judge and arbitrator?”
In other words, he was saying, “Friend, I didn’t come to be
an administrator of your goods; I came to lead you to God.” And that’s the sentiment the Apostles have
when they say, “It is not right for us to neglect the word of God to serve at
table.” In the Christian community,
there are those whose basic task is to make sure the people of God remain
people “of God;” and to be a people of God means, among other things, to take
on the heart of the one Priest, Jesus, and to be faithful to him.
As I mentioned before, there are days when you just want to
jump ship and get off this crazy ride we call “the Church.” But we don’t.
We stick with it. And we do that
because, even in spite of our differences, we know that our common faith in
Jesus is at the heart of it all. We are
a community “of faith,” first and always.
And this really is what makes being Catholic such a wonderful thing.
The U.S. Bishops use the phrase “unity in diversity.” Our unity is in Christ. Our unity is our common profession of faith
that, “I believe in one God, the Father the almighty; I believe in Jesus Christ
his only Son our Lord; I believe in the Holy Spirit; and I believe in one,
holy, catholic, and apostolic Church.”
But around this core of unity is an immense diversity—what St. Paul
calls “the many parts of the one Body.”
Way back in the year 36/37 AD that concept of “unity in
diversity” was already at work. Only
three years or so after the Resurrection of Jesus, the Church was already
trying work through what it means to be unified in Christ, and yet diverse
within itself. And every now and then,
throughout its history, the Church has had to struggle with that same
question. Even here, today, at St. Clare
it’s something that we’re working through as a merged community of faith.
As I’ve mentioned before in the bulletins, newsletters, and
announcements the parish is considering its short and long term direction. There are a lot of “pots on the stove” right
now; things like: getting a new hymnal, reorganizing our committees and groups,
forming several new ones, getting a better financial plan in place, rethinking
the way we do our high school religious education, considering ways to keep
growing the school and, finally, coming up with a pastoral plan for the parish
as a whole.
There are a lot of “pots on the stove” right now for St.
Clare. And a common ingredient in them
all is that very ancient concept of “unity in diversity.” How can we be a community “of faith”—a
community rooted in Christ and our common profession of faith—and yet also a
community which allows for our diversity to come through.
And we are certainly a diversity parish: people who are
farmers, others who commute to the Fox Valley or Green Bay; people who love
organ music, people who can’t stand the organ; young people, old people; young
families and empty nesters; rich people, poor people, and everybody in between;
Hollanders, French, Belgian, Irish, Germans, Hispanics, and more; outsiders and
insiders; loud people, quiet people; stubborn people, easy going people;
progressives, conservatives; happy people, sad people; brothers, sisters,
fathers, mothers; sinners and saints, children of God.
There’s a lot of diversity in this community of faith. And it takes a lot of work to make it work. And the most basic “work” we each do is to be
a person “of faith.” In spite of our
diversity, and even right within our diversity, we nonetheless share a common
faith and a common destiny. We’re all
headed to “the Father’s house, where there are many dwelling places.” And we get there through the one Lord of us
all, Jesus, who inspires us and builds us up in faith, to live in faith.
And so, let us stand now, and profess together: “I believe in
one God . . .”
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