3 Sep 2017
22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A
The Church is changing, as it always has been. And, for many of us, that reality is the
cross we’re given to carry. The Church
is changing.
In 1970, Professor Joseph Ratzinger (who would become Pope
Benedict XVI) wrote a book called “Faith and the Future.” In it he said: “From the crisis of today the
Church of tomorrow will emerge—a Church that has lost much. She will become small and will have to start
afresh more or less from the beginning.”
Last weekend we talked a little about how the Church was
prospering up until the late 80s and early 90s.
But since then she’s been in a massive decline—in all areas of her life. The Church is in a free-fall; she’s becoming
smaller, as Ratzinger said it would—not because the Church should become
smaller, but because she’s unable to sustain herself in the “crisis of
today.”
Ratzinger continues: As the number of [the Church’s]
adherents diminishes, so will she lose many of her social privileges.” We see this happening quite a bit today. The “social privileges” he mentions includes
especially the viability and the relevance of the Church in the view of
others.
Take, for example, the authority of the Church. When it comes to morals, politics, education,
study, and so on, the authority of the Church is severely handicapped. It’s kind of like the Prophet Jeremiah; the
Church has a message for the good of others, but the usual response seems to be
only “decision and reproach.” Either
that, or the Church simply becomes the butt of jokes...”she will lose many of
her social privileges.”
Ratzinger also writes that the Church “will no longer be able
to inhabit many of the edifices she built in [times of] prosperity.” And by that word “edifices,” we can take it
to mean parish communities as well as their church buildings. “She will no longer be able to inhabit many
of the edifices she built in prosperity.”
And, of course, we know that to be true only too well—as does any parish
which has been merged, or downsized, or closed entirely.
The Church is changing; she’s getting smaller and
smaller. And for a people of genuine
faith, the fact of that is a heavy cross to accept.
One of the saddest things to hear is a grandparent who’s
heartbroken because the kids or the grandkids don’t go to Church. And they oftentimes think it’s their own
fault, as if they weren’t faithful enough themselves to be a good influence on
the kids and grandkids. But, in reality,
there’s something much bigger happening—the Church, in general, is getting
smaller.
And the Lord isn’t necessarily happy about that. After all, he’s the one who said to Peter,
“Get behind me, Satan! For you are not
thinking as God does, but as human beings do.”
The Lord wants a robust Church of committed disciples. He doesn’t want that community to
shrink. But, at the same time, the Lord
isn’t willing to compromise himself in order to get others to follow him. He doesn’t go into “crisis mode;” he just remains
steady and true.
Saint Paul picked up on that when he wrote, “Do not be
conformed to this age, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind.” If we’re too worried about being on board
with the latest trends in religion, or if we’re concerned that we’re going to
lose the youth because our worship is too outdated or our teachings are too
old-fashioned, well we’re almost ensuring that the youth will go and that the
Church will get even smaller.
I remember watching a video once about vocations to the priesthood. And they were interviewing a young man who
was considering life as a friar or a monk.
And he described one religious community where all they did to try to
win him over was shower him with excitement and balloons, a party and the
latest in music. They were trying to
draw him into the Church by using everything but the person who’s at the heart
of the Church; namely, God.
The Church is getting smaller, and that can be a cross to
accept and to carry. But it’s a cross
that won’t crush us—as long as we don’t go into “crisis mode,” and as long as
we keep our priorities and our focus straight.
You’ve probably read in the bulletins (and you might remember
a homily in which I mentioned this), that we’re looking at relocating the
tabernacles at our Greenleaf and Askeaton churches. It’s not a move “backwards;” it’s a move that
hopefully will serve as a visual reminder of just who exactly is our priority
and focus as Catholics; namely, Jesus—Emmanuel, “God among us,” in the flesh.
The Second Vatican Council in 1965 did some wonderful things
for the Church. One of which is that it
reminded us—especially the laity—that all believers are members of “the
faithful.” God is present in the
Eucharist, in the priest, in Scriptures, in all the sacraments, and in...the
gathered faithful. It’s why there’s been
such a push in church architecture to have the seating arranged such that the
people would be able to see themselves.
But in our Post-Modern world that’s characterized by radical
individualism, and self-absorption, it’s good to have a visual reminder of who
gathers us and why. It might not seem
like much, but where we put the tabernacle can help us keep our priorities and
focus on what’s at the heart of the Church; namely, Christ and sacrificial love
of God and neighbor.
And this cross we’re given to carry here in the 21st
Century—the shrinking of the Church—is a chance to renew ourselves after the
example of Christ’s sacrificial love.
Joseph Ratzinger wrote in 1970 that “in all [this societal
change and crisis]...the Church will find her essence afresh, and with full
conviction, in that which was always at her center:” faith in the Holy Trinity
and in the enduring presence of the Holy Spirit among believers. And that’s a good thing. This particular cross isn’t all bad.
He also wrote that the Church “will be seen much more as a
voluntary society, entered only by free decision.” Again, that’s a good thing. It means that the Church and the parish—even
if it’s smaller—will be a community of intentional followers of the Lord. And a community of really intentional
disciples who put the Lord first is what makes the Church grow. So, it’s not all bad.
Ratzinger wrote that 21st Century
Catholicism “will make much bigger demands on the initiative of her individual
members.” It’s going to take a lot of
work and dedication to be a Catholic today, and we don’t have the support of
the larger culture.
When students are preparing to go off to college, and they
wonder how their faith is going to continue on, the response is: “You’re going
to have to take responsibility for that yourself.” You will be a faithful Catholic if you want
to be, and if you’re personally committed to God and his community of the
faithful. And that really goes for all
of us. Being a disciple of Christ as a
part of the Church “will make much bigger demands [today] on the initiative of
her individual members.”
Gone are the days when the parish consisted of a church, a
priest, a cemetery, a school, a ladies’ society, a men’s group, the church
choir, and the congregation gathered on Sunday.
This is a very different world today, with a different understanding of
what it means to be a parish, what it means to be a Church, and what it means
to say, “I am a Roman Catholic.” And
it’s not all bad.
It’s a cross we’re given to carry here in the 21st
Century—the shrinking of the Church. But,
like the Cross of Christ, it brings a certain hope of renewal and rebirth. At the core of the “true Church” is love:
sacrificial, selfless love. If we
possess that, if we nurture that kind of godly, neighborly love, the Church may
get smaller, but it will not go away.
Nothing triumphs over sacrificial love. That is our faith; that is our reason to be
calm and at peace, even as the Church continues to change. If we rest our heart on the Heart of Christ,
all will be well. All will be well.
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