Homily for 27 Aug 2017

27 Aug 2017

21^st Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

It’s always hard to see a church close, especially if you’re old enough to remember when churches were full: back in the 40s, 50s, and 60s.  Even into the 80s when I was growing up, I remember there would be two Masses going on at the same time (one in the “upper church” and one in the “lower church”) because there were so many people. 

The church was very much growing, up until the very late-80s and early 90s.  Since then, except for funerals, everything has been declining.  Baptisms, marriages, vocations to the priesthood, vocations to religious life, participation in Mass, Catholic education, and so on—especially in the Midwest and Northeast.  Here at St. Clare there’s been a full 50% drop in Mass attendance since 2007.  So, for almost thirty years now, the Church has been in something of a freefall. 

And that can be very disheartening, especially in light of what Jesus tells us: “I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.”  When we see a church close, or parishes merged or even linked, it can certainly seem that “the netherworld” is prevailing.  And that can be for any number of reasons.

If we look at our own area there are some very common reasons why people keep a distance from the Church, reasons like: people find Mass to be boring or uninteresting; people don’t like to be in a setting where there’s conflict in the community; people don’t feel welcome or useful in a parish.  Other reasons are that: people are disillusioned with religion in general, or they don’t trust religious leaders, or they don’t trust organized religion. 

Some other big reasons why people step away are because: they think religion is too focused on money, or that religious people are too judgmental, or that religious beliefs are too strict and inflexible.  And two last reasons are that people don’t feel supported by the community in times of crisis, and the music or worship style is a hindrance rather than a help to their faith.

The sad thing is—some of these are legitimate.  But some of them are more reflective of the culture we live in today and need to be changed.  And those are the ones that are more of a problem, because in the eyes of too many people, the Church (and God and Jesus) are largely irrelevant.  What the Lord has given to us to pass on to others is something a lot of people don’t really want. 

This “freefall” that we’ve been experiencing for the past thirty years or so is both Church-related and culture-related.  The Church we have some control over, but the wider culture not so much.  And this isn’t necessarily a reason to be distraught, but it is a reason to reevaluate our priorities, our life as the Church, our practices, our worship, and so on. 

In the early 20^th Century, G.K. Chesterton said: ““We do not want a church that will move with the world. We want a church that will move the world.”  And, of course, that’s why Jesus founded the Church: to change the world—not to be changed by the world. 

In his letter to the Romans, St. Paul sings the praises of God: “Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God!  How inscrutable are his judgments and how unsearchable his ways!  To him be glory forever. Amen.”   And in every single Mass we sing “with the angels and saints their unending hymn of praise”: “Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of Hosts; Heaven and earth are full of your glory, Hosanna in the highest!” 

That’s the “unending hymn” of the Church: to sing the praises of God.  It’s a song of faith; the kind of faith St. Peter had in the Lord—an almost childlike, eyes-wide-open, awe-filled faith in God and in his plan for us; namely, salvation.  If the Church ever ceases to sing the praise of God, if the faith of the Church ever becomes less than awe-filled, then she goes into decline.  And that’s where we are today, it seems.

Philosophers and sociologists call this period of history we’re in the “Post-Modern Era.”  This is a time of not just individualism, but radical individualism.  This is a period of the denial of history, as though the life of the world started the day I was born (we experience that in the Church, too, as though the Church and her practices and beliefs didn’t begin until 1965 and Vatican II). 

This Post-Modern era is also characterized by something called “deconstructionism,” where instead of having faith in anything (whether that’s religion or human reason or tradition or whatever), one takes a skeptical look at everything.  Objectivity is thrown out the window, and everything becomes relative and subjective.  And that’s a problem because the Church, all the teachings of Christ, morals and ethics, and so on, are all built on objective truths, and history, and the life of a hierarchical community. 

That’s all part of the “rock” that Jesus builds his Church on.  Take away the foundation and what do you have but a very unsteady, crumbling building—if you have a building at all.  We live in an age which is not only not friendly to the ideas of Church and faith and community, but which is actively opposed to what we’re about as a Church. 

Again, this isn’t a reason to be distraught, but it is a reason to solidify and clarify who we are and what we’re about as the Church.  Even in spite of what consumer demand is, and what the cultural trends are, can we remain faithful to the Lord?  Can we sing his praises, even if they sound foolish to others?  Can we be an instrument of God in the world, or are we just another instrument in the world for the world?

The Lord will build his Church, as he says he will.  But he won’t do it by himself.  Ever since the beginning, God has involved humanity in its own redemption.  Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Sarah, Rebekah, David and Solomon, Isaiah, Ruth, Ezekiel, Jeremiah and the prophets, John the Baptist, Mary, Joseph, the Apostles, Mary Magdalene, the Martyrs, the Saints, monks, nuns, brothers, sisters, families, individuals, up to the present day.  God will build his Church, but not alone.  He requires us to be involved.  And the most basic way we’re involved is to be a person of real faith: to love God above all, and to love our neighbors and ourselves as his good will inspires us to.

Faith is the “rock” upon which the Lord builds his Church.  Today we’re not in a crisis of not having enough priests; the crisis is not that we don’t have enough money in the collection basket; the crisis isn’t that our worship is outdated and that our teachings are old-fashioned and out of touch.  We have one major crisis, and that’s a crisis of faith.

We can have better music at Mass, we can have better preaching.  Our buildings can be refreshed or replaced.  The collection basket can be full, and the hospitality can be vibrant.  But unless there’s an increase in faith, none of it matters much.  And it isn’t faith that God will do something to fix the situation; it’s simpler than that.  It’s faith that looks and feels and sounds like deep affection for and trust in God.

A few years ago I had the chance to go a monastery in Switzerland.  And the monks sang beautifully.  There were about fifty of them, and they sang in parts; two tenor parts, a baritone, and a bass part.  But there was no audience there.  They weren’t trying to impress anybody.  They were simply singing the praises of God in faith.  And it’s that kind of simple love for God and faith in God which builds the Church, one person at a time.

May God increase our simple faith and love for him, for our own good and for his glory.