9 Sept 2018
23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year B
You see the dark clouds in the West; dark, purple, heavy
clouds and we get nervous—or excited. A
storm is coming. “Will the old tree hold
up through one more storm,” we wonder.
“Is the roof going to stay on...or, at least, is it going to keep the
rain out, or is it going to leak again,” we say to ourselves. When the clouds are heavy in the West, we get
a little nervous—a storm is coming.
Of course, then the storm hits and you really start
praying. And that’s kind of where we are
as a Church. And the storm’s been
brewing for decades. I could be talking
about the abuse scandal which just seems to get worse as new allegations
surface about abuse from years ago. I
could be talking about the steady decline in people receiving the Eucharist at
Mass. The storm could be the wave of
de-Christianization of society and culture.
It could the crippled sense of the other-worldly, the spiritual within
humanity today. The storm could be a lot
of things. And, really, it’s all of
these things...and more.
And sometimes people ask me if the Church has ever been in
this position before. Has the Church
been hit hard in the past...and survived?
Of course, the question behind the question is: Is there hope? Is there hope that the faith will not be
wiped out by the storm we’re in? And the
short answer is: Yes. Yes, there’s
hope—as long we have hope and faith in the right things. The faithful have been hit by storms in the
past, but they’ve always survived—by hope and faith.
For the first 260 years of the Church, Christianity was
illegal. It depended on who the Roman
Emperor was at any given time, but Christians were either barely tolerated or
persecuted and killed. And at the time,
Christians numbered just in the thousands—not the billions like there are
today.
And, even today, Christianity is illegal in some parts of the
world. In Saudi Arabia, for example, it
is illegal to practice the Christian faith.
And so the Christians over there practice their faith secretly—not all
that differently from the early Church.
If they’re discovered, they either have to renounce faith in Jesus or be
put to death. In such hostile
environments that existed in the early Church and in some part of the world
even today, the faith survives and is strong.
And that’s because those Christians’ faith and hope are in
the right thing; namely, God. They take
the words of Scripture very seriously, as we heard in the psalm: “Praise the
Lord, my soul! The God of Jacob keeps
faith forever, secures justice for the oppressed, gives food to the
hungry.” Persecuted Christians past and
present are a reason to have hope; the Church, the faith, survives those storms
very well.
And then just after Christianity was made legal in the year
313, there was a major heresy that took hold in Church leadership. It’s called the Arian Heresy, and it taught
that Jesus was not the Word of God; Jesus was not the Son of God; he was not
divine. The Arians taught that Jesus was
created—like you and me. He was the most
perfect creation, yes, but he was not God.
And for about thirty years, the major of bishops in the world
at the time were Arians; they didn’t believe that Jesus was God. And that was a major crisis for the faith. By the grace of God, however, there were some
bishops (and most of the lay faithful) who were very solid in believing what
St. Peter said when he said to Jesus: “We have come to believe and are
convinced that you are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.”
And after those thirty years or so, the winds changed, and
the Church got back on track. The
faith—the truth—survived...by the grace of God.
And then there was the Protestant Reformation, started in the
year 1517. Only that was a little
different. What Martin Luther said back
then wasn’t entirely off the beam; the Church had some significant
problems. Luther wasn’t entirely right,
but the Church wasn’t entirely right either.
And, as we know, all of Europe was thrown into a storm. Almost all of northern Europe left the
Catholic faith and became Protestant.
And, as a result, the Church did make some much-needed
changes. It was a terrible storm, and
one that could have been avoided. But,
in the end, the faith survived—even if the community itself had ruptured. And that’s because at the heart of the
faith—whether Protestant or Catholic—was and is Jesus Christ. As long as he’s at the core of what we’re
about, there’s hope.
But that’s also why the storm we find ourselves in today is
especially troublesome to many. Ever
since around the mid-1500s, the idea of faith, the notion of the spiritual and
the divine has been slowly but steadily worn down. It’s like how over time water wears down a
stone until that stone doesn’t have any sharp edges anymore. The stone isn’t gone, but it’s not as sharp
as it was before.
And that’s what the storm of rationalism and radical
individualism has done to the faith over the course of 500 years. This age we live in now where I am the master
of my destiny, where “my truth” is the only truth, where the history of the
world started the day “I” was born...it didn’t just come from nowhere. The “me” generation didn’t come from
nothing. It’s a result of a very long,
steady rain that’s worn down the “religious sense” in the human race.
And that’s only bred other storms we’re dealing with
today. Among other reasons, the abuse
scandal is a result of the sin of selfishness, where some clergy have said—at
least in their hearts—“what I want is more important than this child’s human
dignity.” And when that abuse was
discovered, instead of being reported, it was covered up when some in Church
leadership said—at least in their hearts—“the public image of the Church is
more important than the truth.”
But that’s also a storm which—like the Protestant
Reformation—has had some positive results.
First off, the truth has been revealed...and that’s always a good thing,
even if it’s painful. And, finally, victims of abuse are given some measure of dignity. And second, the
formation of priests in the past twenty years or so is radically different than
it was before. Priests still learn their
theology and philosophy, they learn how to pray and say Mass. But they’re also made to be honest with
themselves; to learn what their weaknesses are as individual men and how to be
honest about those with themselves and others.
They’re made to address sexuality and how to be healthy in that
respect. And all of that makes them to
be better priests, better humans who exist not for the gratification of “me,”
but for the fulfillment of “me” and “you,” and for the sharing of the Gospel.
It’s maybe like a volcano that’s spewed globs of lava all
over a once beautiful scene. Maybe
that’s what the abuse scandal is like.
But, at the same time, some little flowers and plants do grow out of the
muck. And that new growth is happening
already within the priesthood, and has been for about twenty years now. Still, though, we’re in a storm. But there’s hope. As long as Jesus is the heart of what we’re
about, there’s hope.
Of course, as I said, we’re in an age now when Jesus isn’t
necessarily the center. Even faith in
the spiritual or the divine is worn away.
And that helps breed the other big storm we face as a Church today—a
shortage of priests.
Priesthood is a life commitment. It’s just like marriage when somebody commits
him- or herself to their beloved for life.
But what happens when people are less inclined to believe that Jesus—the
Beloved—even exists at all? Well, then,
priesthood seems kind of...silly. The
shortage of priests isn’t necessarily a shortage of people saying “yes” to
Jesus. Maybe it’s a shortage of people believing
that Jesus actually exists? It’s a
crisis of faith—simple, basic faith in the divine, in the spiritual.
When the clouds are dark over in the West, we get a little
nervous. And when the storm is on top of
us, we pray a lot and hope to God that we make it through. We’re in some pretty big storms right
now. But, if the history of God and his
people show us anything, it’s that we can have a “sure and certain hope.” And if our personal history with storms shows
us anything, it’s that behind the storm is clear skies. Always.
With God, the skies are always clear after the storm. We just have to get through the storm. And our faith and hope will us do that.
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