Maybe Not!
Actually, the trajectory of my life, identity and mission, as I understand and intend it, is in the opposite direction: into the Heart of Christ in his Church, with my family and friends. This is not a solitary me-and-Jesus thing. Rather, I am part of a rich network in which we draw each other deeper into the Mystery of Christ. Happily, some with whom I journey are from the margins. But it is not that I go out to them, but they come with me towards our center, our destiny.
In our work with Magnificat Home, a residence for low-income including special-needs women, we operate like Alcoholics Anonymous: attraction not promotion. We do not go out searching for people. They come to us.
The building we use is an old Catholic convent in which devout nuns prayed for many years. Women who join us are in a place that has been sanctified. They are living on holy ground. They are no longer out on the margins, they have come into the center. Even as they may not be Catholic and I have no intention to convert them. This building is owned by the parish; it was built with the pennies of hard working, poor immigrant, ethnic Catholics. Our residents are coming in from the margins, into a sanctuary.
The home is an extension of our family and network of friends. We are blessed by those who volunteer, donate money, and support the home. This home is not a social agency, or a state operation, or part of a safety network. It is a home, a place of safety, respect, modest beauty, wholesome nutrition, and above all a connection with a community of love.
Our residents love my family. My sisters come regularly with delicious, nutritious meals and they have become close to the women. My children and grandchildren are known and loved by them. They have a very strong affection and respect for my wife. She has, of course, been a support and partner from the beginning. But above all, towards myself, I sense a peace, an easiness, a trust in me as they see a happy husband, father and family man. It is as if they enter under the mantle of my family...both extended and spousal...and share in a sense of safety and peace.
At this point of my life...age 75 and half-retired...our marriage is blessed by a simple rule of life we received from Our Lady's Missionaries of the Eucharist: daily mass, liturgy of the hours, rosary, (very, very light) fasting, and simplicity of life. This is the plan: that we as a married couple move every day closer to Christ, in the Eucharist and in all the practical invitations he gives us daily. But again: this movement is communal:sith our family and friends and others and the entire Church and world.
But Pope Francis is Right...
Life in Christ is a movement out of safety to rescue those endangered.
Our Lord left heaven to come and rescue us. And he returned to heaven, with us.
He sent his apostles out to the ends of the earth, to proclaim the Kingdom, to baptize, to cast out demons, to heal and bring liberty. They went out to bring all back into the heart of the Father.
Our heroes are those who went out: St. Paul; the Jesuits who went to Asia, Canada, and South America; St. Junipero Serra walking up the coast of California; St. Charles de Focauld in the Sahara; Maryknollers in Africa, South America and Asia; Kiko Arguello with the gypsies in Spain.
A holy woman said: "I want to know the poorest country in the world. And the most destitute region therein. And the most miserable town in that region. And the most afflicted, suffering family in that town. And I want to just serve them." THAT is the missionary impulse. THAT is the call of Christ.
So we see that life in Christ images that of Christ himself: we go out to the margins to return to the heart of the Church, with others. But not all are sent out in the same way.
Two Calls of Christ
It is puzzling: in the gospels, Christ calls some to come follow him and then go out as apostles. But others, who want to follow him, he refuses and directs to go home to their villages. Some are sent out; some are sent home. Balthasar, in The Christian State of Life, finds here the two Catholic states of life: the lay, married state stays home; the priestly and the evangelical lives are called to go out.
I myself am a missionary-want-to-be. I didn't make the cut and was sent home. In college I studied to be a Maryknoll missionary priest and serve the poor and suffering overseas. I found myself in Mexico, the summer after graduation, on a service trip. Unsure of my calling, I had decided to leave the seminary, work, date (I was horribly awkward with women) and find my way. I was welcomed warmly by the Mexicans in a village, but was entirely uncomfortable inside. I felt an aversion to a life of mission and a yearning for a sense of stability, place and peace. I went home, fell in love, married, and lived happily ever after. (Yes, I really did!) I have lived the life I wanted: stable, steady, serene. But I still feel within myself the missionary impulse.
I see that within the Church and in every life there are these two movements that imitate the "going out and coming home" of the Word of God. Clearly, some of us are called to stability like the Benedictine monks; some to mendicant wandering, pilgrimage, mission. But all of us breathe in and breathe out: draw to the center and move out to the margins, in distinct and specific ways.
Drawing close to Christ in the Eucharist and all the synergy, radiance, delight, stamina and exuberance emanating from him, we surge with an urgency to share this Joy. We are drawn to find those forgotten, abandoned, lonely, discouraged. We are impelled to move somehow to the margins, to the peripheries.
And then return again, with a newfound friend, to the center, to the heart of Christ.
No comments:
Post a Comment