 Throughout history, societies throughout the world have embraced various religions and forms of spirituality—some simple, some sophisticated. Many of them seem similar, at least on the surface. In the past few decades, however, the number of people who claim affinity with the mainline Christian denominations and the Jewish faith has shrunk dramatically. In Bridgeport alone, I’m not sure how many Protestant churches have closed; at least one has become a Buddhist temple, and seven Catholic churches have closed. Yet despite this decline, there remains in our time a strong religious sensitivity, however unfocused it may be.
There are not many bookstores around anymore, but I remember when I used to visit them and see shelves and shelves devoted to religion and spirituality. Even now, there are YouTube videos, podcasts, blogs—and yes, still books—that focus on ancient mysteries, the occult, and the supernatural. In that sense, one could argue that despite all the talk of secularism, we remain in a very religious age. Conversations about spirituality abound. There has always been a fascination with angels, miracles, and unexplained phenomena. Those who study these things say it reflects a deep spiritual pull within the human person. Yet, let’s face it: very often it becomes a kind of religiosity without cost, spirituality without conversion. Keep things vague and loosely mystical, and you can sell books, attract listeners, and get plenty of likes on Facebook and Instagram. The reality is that many people prefer religion that requires little personal change. If religion criticizes “the world,” it is often welcomed as a needed message. But if it calls me to accountability, then suddenly the response becomes, “No, thank you.” If a religion requires society to change, many embrace it; if it requires me to change, it becomes much less attractive. One of the hallmarks of Christianity, however, is its insistence on transformation, its challenge to change, its call to conversion. Think of John the Baptist: to prepare people for their encounter with Jesus, he called them to repent. Jesus Himself consistently spoke about leaving aside the old and taking up the new. Becoming a Christian is not simply a modified version of a pre-Christian life with a few adjustments here and there. It is about becoming a “new creation.” Pentecost reminds us that we are not called simply to admire Jesus. Jesus does not want admirers. What He wants are disciples who will take Him seriously and follow Him with their lives. Are we willing to step away from “group-think” and accept being unpopular, or perhaps even shunned, in our effort to discern Christ’s will and live according to it? Are we willing to make personal sacrifices in order to live out our discipleship? Where do we draw the line? Are we willing to help shape a society that conforms more to the Kingdom of God than to the kingdom of Lucifer? To be sure, one person’s disciple may well be another person’s fanatic. Ask yourself: if you met the Apostles on Pentecost day, would you have been fascinated and attracted, or would you have run for the hills? When others around us begin talking about their personal faith or powerful spiritual experiences, does it make us uncomfortable? What kind of faith-sharing compels us rather than repels us? You might be surprised at how willing and open people around you are to adult conversations about their relationship with Jesus and the practice of the Catholic faith. Some years ago, I got a dog, and suddenly all my parishioners wanted to talk to me about their dogs. When I had shoulder replacement surgery, I started hearing about everybody else’s joint surgeries. Last weekend I was hobbling around with plantar fasciitis and immediately started receiving emails recommending treatments and therapists. And whenever someone in a casual setting discovers that I am a priest, they almost always want to talk about religion. People in OCIA regularly report that when coworkers discover they are becoming Catholic, it opens the door to conversations they never expected to have. There is nothing wrong with faith being deeply personal. But Christianity, by its very nature, is not truly Christianity if it remains entirely private. At Pentecost, the Apostles went from being a confused group of followers to an inspired band of witnesses. With the Holy Spirit in us, we move from being interested observers to active participants. With the Holy Spirit in us, we move from being students of Christianity to practitioners. With the Holy Spirit in us, we move from being merely friends and admirers to true disciples of Jesus. Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love. Send forth your Spirit, and they shall be created. And You shall renew the face of the earth. Amen. -Rev. James F. Hurlbert
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Last week I was at the seminary for a conference with about twenty-two priests from our archdiocese. The focus was on the role of a pastor as a disciple, shepherd, and steward, but one theme kept surfacing over and over again: co-responsibility. The church does not belong to the priest alone. A parish is not meant to operate such that the father does the "religious work" while everyone else watches from the sidelines. The church belongs to all of us. And co-responsibility means more than simply pitching in or helping keep programs running. It means we are co-responsible for the mission, co-responsible for the vision, and Co-responsible for helping people encounter Jesus Christ. One of the things we discussed was the remarkable number of adult baptisms this Easter. In our own parish, six adults were baptized. Across our archdiocese, more than 1,100 adults entered the church this Easter, including many who have previously been baptized in other Christian denominations and became Catholic. And it is not just happening here. In France this year, more than 13,000 adults were baptized - almost 30% more than the year before. What is going on? Why is this happening? There are all kinds of theories: social instability, loneliness, a search for meaning, dissatisfaction with materialism. But maybe the deepest answer is simply this: the Holy Spirit is moving. God is at work. Last week's feast of the Ascension of the Lord reminds us that God works through people. Right before Jesus ascends into heaven, He gives His disciples their marching orders: "Go out into the world and make disciples." He does not say, "Wait for people to come to you." He does not say, "Build beautiful buildings and hope curiosity brings people in." No - He says, "Go." At the conference, we were giving demographic information about our parish boundaries. Roughly 11,000 people live within the area entrusted to disperish. Eleven thousand. And somehow, we are co-responsible for helping those people encounter Jesus Christ-not through pressure, not through a hard sell, and not through arguing people into the faith, but through invitation, friendship, witness, and joy. The question is: what can each of us do, in our own way? And where do we start? Where is the "low hanging fruit?" For years, many in the Church assumed the most receptive group would be fallen-away Catholics - people who were baptized, may be confirmed, may be raised in the faith... but drifted away. And absolutely, we should continue loving and inviting them. But I sometimes wonder if there is another dynamic at work. Consider this: a vaccination works by exposing the body to a weakened form of a virus so that the immune system develops defenses against the real thing later. I wonder how many Catholics were exposed not to the fullness of the faith, not to a living relationship with Christ but only to a weakened version of Catholicism: rules without relationship, religion without wonder, obligation with our joy, and only a superficial introduction to doctrine and Scripture. Perhaps that experience inoculated them against the faith. So now, when they encounter Catholicism again, defenses immediately rise up, or they have become immune to the workings of the Gospel on their soul. Ironically, some of the people most open today maybe those who have never encountered Christianity at all. Within our own parish boundaries, about 20% of our neighbors are Chinese immigrants and their descendants. And projections say that number will remain steady. What an opportunity! Most of them have never really been exposed to Jesus Christ. They do not know the Gospel. They have never been invited. And maybe that matters, because they may not have been "vaccinated" against it. They can encounter the faith freshly. This means the church's mission field is not somewhere far away anymore. It is in a neighborhood, our workplace, our schools, and our friendships. At His Ascension, Jesus placed His Gospel and His mission into the hands of ordinary disciples - into our hands. He made us co-responsible, and when he entrusted us with a very clear command: " Go out into all the world and make disciples." Go out into all the neighborhood, all the family, all the workplace- not necessarily with grant speeches, but with simple invitations: "Come and see. Come with me. Come to Mass. Come top Alpha. Come meet the people of a parish. Come encounter Jesus." Because with the Ascension, Jesus did not disappear. His presence passed into the sacraments and into the community of baptized believers. Which means that now, in a mysterious way, people are meant to encounter Him through us. — Rev. James F. Hurlbert  |
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