litlife_04_28

LITURGY AND LIFE

By Anne Strachan

6th Sunday of Easter
May 9, 2010

Acts 15:1-2, 22-29
Psalm 67
Revelation 21:10-14, 22-23
John 14:23-29

The Year for Priests was proclaimed by Benedict XVI on the 150th anniversary of the death of St. John Vianney, patron saint of priests, and is “meant to deepen the commitment of all priests to interior renewal for the sake of a stronger and more incisive witness to the Gospel in today’s world.”

Each Holy Week I drive two hours to attend the Chrism Mass in the Diocese of Nelson. This act of pilgrimage has become an integral aspect of my Easter observance. I enjoy the cathedral setting, the processions of people carrying healing oils, and the beautiful music. Most importantly, though, I value a re-connection with individuals of the clergy who are dear, longstanding friends.

These priests, in my experience, are the ones who continue to offer an authentic, open-hearted place for peace to flourish. In the midst of inner and outer turmoil, these bearers of peace, through listening hearts, aren’t afraid to allow room for healthy discussion and valid questions that, in good conscience, challenge the status quo.

Jesus said to his disciples as he prepared for his death: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you . . . Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” This exhortation requires careful pondering in a time when vague notions of infallibility and worldly politics all too often obscure mature dialogue. Much of the time we are indeed troubled and afraid.

In his book Why Go to Church? The Drama of the Eucharist, Timothy Radcliffe, OP, writes: “Many people in our churches are just hanging in by the skin of their teeth. Often their lives do not conform to the usual image of the ‘good Christian family.’ They are divorced and remarried, living with partners, are gay, or have had abortions. They may feel deeply insecure in the church, ready to flee at a hint of rejection. We must put ourselves in their shoes, hear with their ears, smart with their wounds, feel with their skin.”

Along with many other Roman Catholics, my relationship with the church is complex. It continually evolves. The situation today, in the Vatican and in local parishes, is often polarized. Labels abound. Is a person “conservative” or “progressive”? I’m as guilty as anyone when it comes to this kind of oversimplification. Most likely, we’re all a mixture. But it’s all part of the journey: Where do I fit in this flawed — at times seriously — entity that is the church?

In the Acts of the Apostles: “Certain individuals . . . were teaching the brothers, ‘Unless you are circumcised according to the custom of Moses, you cannot be saved.’ And after Paul and Barnabas had no small dissension and debate with them, Paul and Barnabas and some of the others were appointed to go up to Jerusalem to discuss this question with the Apostles and the elders.”

Does this sound familiar? Thank God for the opportunities and insights provided by openness to disagreement and debate! The following letter, delivered to the believers of gentile origin, was the result of discussion: “. . . certain persons who have gone out from us, though with no instructions from us, have said things to disturb you and have unsettled your minds . . . For it has seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us to impose on you no further burden than these essentials . . .”

Paul, Barnabas, Judas and Silas, “with the consent of the whole church,” were very concerned that a teaching they deemed false — the necessity of circumcision for salvation — must not be imposed upon gentile converts. Sounds like good common sense, and I’m certain that men of the time would echo the sentiment. But it’s a continuing and often painful challenge to engage in the kind of ongoing, patient listening that is required for wisdom to emerge.

Certain people exude a quality of deep listening. They possess an inner light — a lamp in the window draws us in. The light of the Lamb glows in these individuals. They don’t come across as flamboyant or pietistic; like Jesus, they aren’t afraid to eat with sinners and be present to them. And yet, it is their imperfect, human presence — not necessarily their preaching — that inspires the desire in people around them to change for the better.

In this Year for Priests, I celebrate those priests in my life who exhibit an abundance of compassion and common sense: Fathers Charlie, Brendan, Martin, Peter, and James, to name just a few. I’m grateful to them. They’ve proven to be true and abiding friends in a grounded, Christ-centred way. These faithful guides challenge my thinking at times, and yet they accept and encourage dialogue. They are unafraid — like Paul and Barnabas — of sincere “dissension and debate.” These people are holy listeners. Through their attention and witness to the Gospel, we recognize God’s abiding, transformative love.

Strachan is married with three children and lives in Nakusp, BC. She is a Benedictine Oblate with St. Peter’s Abbey in Muenster, SK., and a member of the Saskatchewan Writers’ Guild..