Yesterday we celebrated the
funeral of Mary Bayes, a delightful member of our parish who died suddenly.
Mary was very active in community and neighbourhood associations, so despite
the fact that it was Election Day a number of local political
figures attended the funeral Mass.
Afterwards I chatted with a
very pleasant woman who complimented me on the homily and the liturgy as she
left the church. But a few minutes later she came back in the door and said “I
should have mentioned that my husband is running for council and we would
really appreciate your vote. I’m sorry to
approach you like this, but I can tell you he’s a very fine man.”
“Sorry?” I replied. “You
wouldn’t be much of a political spouse if you hadn’t. And now your husband has
one of my votes.”
And indeed he did—though he
lost anyway!
The encounter got me thinking
about World Mission Sunday, which we celebrate today, and about mission in
general. One Pope after another has told us that the Church is missionary by
her very nature, yet few of us have the zeal of that politician’s wife.
The parish staff, the parish
council, and the parish finance council are all reading Father James Mallon’s
book Divine Renovation. In this
remarkable manifesto, Father Mallon argues that many in the Church suffer from
spiritual amnesia—we have forgotten what the Church is for.
As anyone who has a family
member facing the challenges of Alzheimer’s disease knows all too well, the
loss of memory is painful. It leads to confusion and to consequences like leaving
a pot on the stove and so on.
It’s the same in the Church.
When we forget the true purpose of the Church—making disciples of Jesus—we become
confused about why we’re Catholics and what we’re supposed to do.
Father Mallon writes that
many in our pews are wearing “invisible suits of armour.” When Christ’s message
is preached with full force of—and it isn’t always—it just bounces off.
We will talk more in the
weeks and months ahead about the message of Divine
Renovation, but on this Mission Sunday I want to quote just one sentence.
It boils down the message that we are called to share with our neighbours, our
family, our friends, and the farthest corners of the world.
Here’s the key sentence: “We
can speak of the truth that we are never alone, that God desires to dwell in
us, to consume us, and to have us consume him, but in the end it is possible to
simplify the message into one word: Jesus.”
This is the message of our
second reading at Mass today, from the Letter to the Hebrews. Jesus himself is
the good news of our faith; Jesus makes a difference in our lives; and Jesus
understands everything about us.
Who wouldn’t want to know
someone who knows and sympathizes with them so completely?
The letter states clearly
that Jesus is the Son of God, interceding for us before the throne of the
Father. That alone should inspire
confidence. But at the same time, he is fully human—one of us, who has been tempted
like us, though without sin.
It’s so easy to dismiss the
importance of Christ’s temptations.
After all, he was God; how hard can the testing have been for him? Yet his temptations were far harder than
ours, since “human experience shows that giving in to temptation, even a
little, lessens its intensity (even though giving in will lead to further
temptations in the long run). Jesus’ temptations were all the more intense
precisely because he did not yield to them in the least. [Mary Healy, “Hebrews,”
Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scripture, p. 98]
And there’s still more to unpack
from the brief description of our great high priest in Hebrews. “Let us
therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness,” the letter says.
Look at three words in that
sentence. “Therefore” relates to what we’ve just been talking about—the fact
that Jesus sympathizes with our weakness, and understands our temptations.
And the invitation to “approach”
suggests that God is nothing less than approachable. I took the trouble to look up the word. The dictionary
definition is “capable of being approached, accessible; and, specifically, easy
to meet or deal with.”
Finally, that word “boldness.”
Hebrews says that we know more than enough about Jesus to be fully confident in
approaching the throne of grace—not just for mercy, but for all the help we
need in every circumstance.
What a positive message for
weary, wounded, and wondering folks! What good news to share by every possible
means, from inviting people to Alpha to supporting the crucial World Mission
Sunday collection.
But if the missionary spirit
is really to revive in the Church—if we are to share Jesus with our neighbours
and to make disciples of all nations, if we are to share the joy that “we are
never alone, that God desires to dwell in us, to consume us, and to have us
consume him,” then we must know him ourselves.
The wife of that unsuccessful
candidate persuaded me to vote for her husband in two different ways. I’ve already mentioned that I was impressed
by her boldness. But I was equally convinced by her simple testimony: “I know
him,” she said, “and I really think he’d make a great member of council.”
There’s a good model for how
we’ll all share our faith with others once we rediscover the true purpose of
the Church and “the essential identity of all the baptized to be missionary
disciples, called to know Jesus and make him known.”
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