Early in the morning on April 12, 1992, I had a dream. I was walking with a group of friends on the edge of an enormous canyon. It was filled with impenetrable clouds, but I knew that the walls plunged down for thousands of feet through dangerous and unknown terrain. On the far side of the canyon, though, far away on higher ground, I saw a city.
I cannot describe it to you. I can tell you that its walls gleamed in pale blue and purple. I can tell you that its banners waved in jubilation above its walls. But I cannot convey its beauty to you. I could not convey its beauty to the companions who walked beside me in my dream, and they did not understand why I fell to my knees there on the edge of the canyon and wept in awe. Almost 30 years later the memory of that triumphant city, the most captivating place I had ever seen, still moves me to tears.
Six days later I entered the Catholic Church. I believe that she offers me the truest path to the beautiful city and the deepest union with Our Lord on this side of the divide.
But I have to say, her bishops in the US are not making her seem very attractive just now.
I think if you asked a dozen American adults with no religious affiliation about the Church's top priorities, most of them they would say something about passing laws against abortion, and maybe something about controlling people's decisions. This would be a terrible distortion of the global Church's actual priorities, and it would also be completely unsurprising.
The Church is meant to be a refuge, a home, a hospital, a feasting hall. I am Catholic because the Church offers me the opportunity to encounter God. I can meet the Lord in reconciliation and be set free from sin. I can receive him -- the fullness of his mysterious Self, the Word full of grace and truth -- in the Eucharist. I can steep myself in Scripture with a community of believers around the world. I can grow in wisdom and grace as I yield myself each day to the voice of the Holy Spirit. The mission of the Church is true human flourishing: abundant life in the present and the future, and liberation from the errors of our past.
I don't know if any of that is visible to our hypothetical unaffiliated American adults. But isn't that the work that should be making the news?
Last week our new associate pastor introduced himself. He spoke simply and humbly about wanting to do four things while he is here: to know us, to be known by us, to love us, and to serve us. It sounded so right, this resolve to foster deep connections and to strengthen the parish community in our mutual love of the Lord. This morning I was reading 1 Corinthians 15, in which St. Paul writes about his preeminent priority (I note some divergence from the preeminent priority of the USCCB): Christ crucified and risen.
You already know that I accept the fullness of the teaching of the Catholic Church; you know that I have struggled with practical questions about who should and should not receive the Eucharist. Obviously I'm not suggesting that we should treat the Eucharist like a snack to be dispensed to fractious toddlers demanding their turn. But I am struggling with the asymmetry of the bishops' responses to different types of deliberate harm to gestating babies, and different types of offenses against the culture of life. And I'm thinking they could take a cue from St. Paul: more of Jesus, less of the culture wars.
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