Big Questions

My mother had several mantras for her children. We knew them well and we not only heard them growing up but even after we left home. One of them was, "Remember who you are." She would bring that one out when we were whining or otherwise taking the low road in reaction to some perceived grievance. The mantra was a coded directive to claim the honour but also to live up to the challenge of what she considered was our family legacy. We knew exactly what she meant, in any case.

Looking back on those interactions, I see now that her directive was genius in its own way. She was not telling us exactly what to do, she was rather challenging us to buy into our identity. Who would turn that down? And yet if you accepted the premise of the mantra, you were in fact committing yourself to a course of action, certainly to a noble outlook on what to that point was a grievance or a worry.

Something similar would have happened if she had come at it from a different direction, with a question. What if she had said in the middle of our anger and argumentative interaction with her, "Well who am I then?" There is only one answer to that question, "You are my mother." Once again, however, in giving the answer, we children would have been making a commitment to what that stands for in the moment as well as what she stands for as a member of the extended family. It would be very difficult to give the answer and then to walk away saying, "Well I really don't care."

These kinds of thoughts ran through my head last week listening to the gospel and the ever so familiar question Jesus asked his disciples: "But who do you say that I am?" After all these years of hearing the answers given, doesn't it become clear that Jesus is not asking about himself, he is asking about the disciples. Once you have given the answer, you have made a commitment.

I recall when I was in my late teens and attending a seminary in the US, being saddened at seeing guys leave, and becoming aware that some of them were leaving the seminary, the church, and their faith, all on the same day. I do not know what process they were going through, but it would make sense if some of the problem was that the commitment to their answer to Jesus' question had become too onerous.

In our present day and age, there is arguably a significant fear of Jesus' question. There probably always has been. We sense just before the words come out of our mouth that we are about to make a big commitment to follow what Jesus stands for, and to follow Jesus himself. Too much, I can't do that.

And so we might hedge, as is very popular in our culture, by espousing a nonreligious spirituality, complete with a commitment to social justice.

Other hedges, popular in Christianity, certainly in Catholicism, are liturgical piety and ecclesial clericalism. The former is bound up with ritual, the latter is bound up with power. Both claim vociferously that they are following Jesus. Both are more likely to be ways of avoiding Jesus. They need to stand beside Peter and dwell on Peter's answer to Jesus’ question.

The era of the coronavirus pandemic, I think, is challenging all of us to stand beside Peter. We are post-resurrection people: we would have no trouble agreeing with his answer. (“You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”) We would quite possibly, however, have a lot of trouble letting the answer expand, letting the dough rise, as it were, into its full significance for us.

Remember who you are.

Out there in the everyday world are thousands and thousands of people who are hungry for a meaningful, active spirituality. They are not coming to church to satisfy that hunger, because it feels like the church is the purveyor of empty, repetitive ritual. Inside the church are people, including and especially in leadership, who are wringing their hands over the declining numbers in the worshiping congregations. Isn't it obvious, the question that is being begged here? Two groups are missing each other, two groups that have the potential to provide a synergy that would light up the world! Oh. Isn't that what the gospel is about? Isn't that where Peter's answer to Jesus question will lead you? If you spend time with it.
     
Sadly, there is division in the church on how to approach this. Some want to double down on preserving the liturgy in its purity even going so far as longing to bring back Latin. Others say that if we do not become a mission church we will have no one in the pews anyway, and we will have lost our relevance. The divide was addressed in an article I read recently, by Fr. Victor Codina, S.J., The article appeared in the Jesuit publication America, in September, 2019. The title of the article is: Why do some Catholics oppose Pope Francis? I won't try to summarize the article here, but Fr. Codina speaks to the pastoral flavour of the theology of Pope Francis. The article resonated with me, because it seems to me that Pope Francis was standing beside Peter when Jesus asked the question, Who do you say that I am? Pope Francis immediately thought of the poor, the sick, the lost, the wayward, that Jesus had been loving and supporting.

Here is a short excerpt from the article. If we are going to revitalize the church, if we are going to attract people to Jesus, then this commentary is on the mark.  

“It bothers people when he (Pope Francis) says that we should not build walls against refugees but bridges of dialogue and hospitality. He is annoying when, following in the footsteps of Pope John XXIII, he says that the church has to be poor and exist for the poor, that the shepherds have to smell like sheep, that it has to be an outgoing church that reaches out to the peripheries and that the poor are a theological locus, topic or source.”

For those of us who feel like we are clinging to our pews, the answer to building our communities is here. But we really will need to dig deep and remember who we are. Mom had that part right. It starts with ourselves, the leaders will follow us.