Saint Mary of the Immaculate Conception Roman Catholic Church

Dear Good People of Saint Mary,

Brothers and Sisters, if we are going to call ourselves followers of Jesus Christ in Name and in act, then we have to love.

Think of a time, perhaps in your life, when a situation demanded a change. Maybe in behavior, or circumstance, maybe hardheadedness or hardheartedness, misunderstanding, downright error? What is the one thing that can convince us to think again, to make adjustments in our lives, even to make a 180 degree change in course in our thoughts and actions? It is only the loving concern of another person.

Love is the only thing that can break through darkness. Love is the thing that Jesus says we must do. St. Paul says that love is the one thing that will remain, even after all else ceases to be. “Love never fails.”

If you’ve been following the coverage of the Synod in Rome with the rest of the world, you have heard some confusing things, probably, because the world listens with ears that hear only what they are listening for. Not the whole message, or all the words. All of us have a selective ability to receive truth, and consider ourselves clever while we are at it. But there is a truth that lies at the foundation of all of these deliberations, and it is something that Pope Francis has said from the first day of his papacy, that the love of Christ must lie at the foundation of all that we say, all that we do, all that we are. Every person is deserving of love, without exception.

Christ was pretty clear that he came to change a sinful world, to save the lost and bring back those who don’t know him. On some level, that is all of us, and we don’t yet realize that nothing is going to satisfy us, that is, anything less than a real loving relationship with him. He, in pretty dramatic fashion, made that love known to us, to the point of his terrible death, taking our place on the Cross.

Unfortunately, it has been our cultural experience too often to “circle the wagons.” This expression is a reference to the pioneers who “settled” the “wilderness” which they “discovered” in a recurring world-wide drama that has always replayed itself throughout history as one culture replaces another. We have so many romantic images of “us against them.” In reality, our pioneers were expansionists who went West to take and occupy the lands of the people who were already living in this country, either by killing them, or relocating them to refugee camps we still call “reservations” today. We were indoctrinated as children (remember all the Western TV shows) that we were the good guys, and all these “savages” were the bad guys. Our culture is polarized between “us and them” so easily, because it is easier to stay in that comfortable place and judge where I am right and you are wrong. We come to our camp at night, we circle our wagons around the light of our fire to keep everyone else away, the savages, the coyotes, the sinners, the people who don’t think like we do. We don’t trust our supplies, we don’t like to share. We set up a barrier.

Reconciliation and conversion will never take place unless somebody reaches across the barrier in love. If we truly believe in Truth, then we should not have the lack of confidence, the insecurity, to step out and let Truth do its work. We just carry the word. Don’t shoot the messenger, right? Well, sometimes it happens, as we well know. But the message is now out there. We don’t change Truth, but sometimes it requires a heroic dose of love to communicate it. Jesus knew that. He spent his time and, literally, his life because he knew that only this was required: “To act justly and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God” (Mic 6:8).

To love a person who does not agree with you doesn’t mean you are giving up what you believe. In reality, it means that you are living what you believe. Jesus went out and ate dinner at the houses of great sinners, and spent his time seeking the lost, because he knew the potential there for glory and grace. He knew that their dignity made in his image required that their voice be heard, just as his deserved to be heard. So let us allow Truth to do its work.

St. John of the Cross said, “Where there is no love, let me put love, and there I will find love.” Reconciliation has to begin with me, not because I love me, but because I love you.

God bless you.

Dear Good People of Saint Mary,

I guess we’ve all had the experience when we’ve prepared an event and the turnout was less than we hoped. Preparations, so much care. Invitations are sent; RSVP by a certain date, no response; reminders to RSVP. It happens all the time in the parish. You can’t measure response, you can’t expect a certain result. Or, sometimes 90 will RSVP and 140 will show up for dinner. More than 16,000 are invited, maybe 500 will fill out a card.

Imagine, though, it is a wedding. Last week’s Gospel was about a wedding banquet. Nobody came. Imagine the bewilderment, or even rejection, felt by the host. Imagine if the host were you, and nobody came.

On a certain level we know that this Gospel is about salvation history. God offered the banquet to his chosen people over and over. The covenant was broken, God relented, restored them, they fell again. Eventually the banquet was set and the bridegroom—God’s son—was inviting. Rejected, he turned to the beggars and the sinners out in the bushes—us—to come. RSVP. Jesus was pretty clear at the Last Supper that this banquet, and the Passover before, and his sacrifice of Calvary of himself to the Father, was one and the same. The saving banquet is the Mass, the Eucharist. RSVP!

Some of us reply. Fewer than that come.

We hear the fulfillment of this banquet in its apocalyptic form in the kingdom of heaven in John’s vision of the banquet in Revelation 19:

After this I heard what sounded like the loud voice of a great multitude in heaven, saying: “Alleluia! Salvation, glory, and might belong to our God, for true and just are his judgments…” A voice coming from the throne said: “Praise our God, all you his servants, you who revere him, small and great.” Then I heard something like the sound of a great multitude or the sound of rushing water or mighty peals of thunder, as they said: “Alleluia! The Lord has established his reign, God, the almighty. Let us rejoice and be glad and give him glory. For the wedding day of the Lamb has come, his bride has made herself ready. She was allowed to wear a bright, clean linen garment.” Then the angel said to me, “Write this: Blessed are those who have been called to the wedding feast of the Lamb.” And he said to me, “These words are true; they come from God.”

Suddenly, perhaps, it dawns on me. Wait a minute. I’m not the host, or the guest. This isn’t just an event I’ve come to watch or enjoy. The realization sinks in: “I’m the bride.”

Now, imagine a wedding that the bride doesn’t show up for. I’ve only seen one in 20 years, it was one of the saddest days I can recall. The groom sobbed. How can the banquet proceed? Now, imagine this is Your Wedding that you don’t show up for—you are the bride (or groom). How can a relationship that was real not have its fulfillment in the marriage covenant and the life of love? Or maybe the relationship wasn’t there in the first place.

I realize I’m “preaching to the choir”: you all are here in church. And our parish is probably a good bit higher in attendance than the national average. But every member of the Body must be here, or the Wedding Feast is incomplete. The only conclusion that can be drawn is that the relationship isn’t real for the majority of the bride, because the Church is the bride. We are standing up our Bridegroom at the altar. Literally.

A couple of weeks ago we were talking about heaven in 8th grade. As I look back on it now, I realize that nobody mentioned anything about a feast. That always used to be the first answer, and a discussion would follow about what kind of amazing food would be on the table. We got the understanding from Scripture, from attending Mass. It’s language that you absorb just by being at Mass, it is so abundant. “Blessed are those who are called to the Supper of the Lamb,” the priest says, right before Communion. Our kids aren’t at Mass, they aren’t getting it from their parents. It is a truth of faith that is largely lost. We forgot it.

The invitation has arrived. Did you open it? Or was it set aside to see what else might demand your presence in the meantime? Like I said, I get it: we are all busy. But some engagements require a wedding, especially when God has chosen us for his covenant of marriage, and we are the Bride.

God bless you.