It’s a quite an easy task to be critical of the Catholic Church.
It doesn’t take much intellectual rigor to see the sins of this mammoth, lumbering, universal institution. But today we celebrate the Church’s birthday and I am overjoyed to celebrate another year of God’s grace and to be part of this big, old, broken refuge of sinners.
I wish she wasn’t as broken as she is.
To tear down can only be considered progress if it’s true motivation is oriented toward beauty, goodness and truth.
In light of all the human project claims to know today, I suggest we take stock of the truth she contains, and there we might cautiously re-discover rather than emotionally destroy.
I admit that I am sad her doors are often locked in recent years out of fear of vandalism, even though she has been welcoming the poor since her beginning.
I am sad her doors are locked now due to a microscopic virus ravaging our world, even though she has a long history of tending to the sick and the outcast.
There are times it seems she is afraid to step out into the world, yet there has never been a time in her history when there have been so many people martyred for simply trying to follow Jesus.
There are times all I can see are her wounds.
There are times when all I know is her peace.
I wish she wasn’t as broken as she is.
I wish I wasn’t as broken as I am.
“[Jesus] breathed on them and said, ‘receive the Holy Spirit.’”
I wish I wasn’t as broken as I am.
“As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”
Not me, surely not me. I am too broken, too shy, too young, too old, too poor, too rich, too wounded, too wealthy, too secure, too middle class, too sophisticated, too educated, too rejected, too self-loathing, too arrogant, too insecure, too addicted, too know-it-all to be sent.
Sent? Me?
Why send me?
I didn’t see his wounds.
I didn’t touch his wounds.
But I know mine.
Yes, I know my own wounds and I know that he saw my wounds and it was he who actually touched my wounds and healed them.
He touched my wounds.
He breathed on me.
The breath of his calling is unmistakable.
I now see the wounds in His body here on earth.
It causes Him great pain.
He asks us to touch his wounds.
I am afraid. Who am I? I would rather stay in this locked room, at least it’s a fear that I know.
I can’t go out there. People will laugh at me, mock me. It would be more comfortable sitting in my rocking chair and telling stories of the sea.
But His breath sends me.
His breath sends me to say “peace be with you.”
Peace. Not a validation of my comfortable, complacent way of life but the peace that comes from his wounds.
Peace. Peace is not fitting-in but putting out into the deep.
Peace. Spoken to a rag-tag group of men and women hiding in their shame, in a room, transformed from the inside-out.
Transformed from cowardly followers to missionary heralds of peace.
Sent to proclaim his terrible wounds.
Sent to proclaim his glorious wounds.
Unlock the door.
Peace be with you.
The same Holy Spirit that breathed into the dirt in the garden now breaths into the dust of our lives, the dust of this old building and the dust of this tired old routine.
I wish she wasn’t as broken as she is.
I wish I wasn’t as broken as I am.
Yes, send me.
I have seen your wounds. They healed mine.
Send me.
What does this mean, send me?
Each one of us has a unique calling; a calling discerned and discovered in community – in communion with one another.
In order for the Church to be healed, each of us needs to be healed. One by one, little by little, Jesus wants to complete this healing work in you. He can and He will do it.
Saint Brother Andre of Montreal said he met lots of people who desired healing but few who desired humility or the spirit of faith. Maybe, just maybe, admitting that we are not perfect and be open to be touched by the Holy Spirit in this need may begin a small work of change in us that will blossom. We might become better father’s, better mother’s, better friends, better at our work and better at relaxing and basking in the grace of all that God has given to us.
What are your wounds?
What area in your life does Jesus need to touch?
Invite him into this wound.
It’s quite an easy task to be critical of the Catholic Church.
I wish the church wasn’t as broken as she is.
It pains Jesus far more than it pains us.
Will you invite the Holy Spirit to touch your wound?
It’s the first step in healing the church, of which you are not just a member, but a beloved child of God.
Jesus says to us: As the Father has sent me, so I send you.
Receive the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
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