Each issue carries an
Archdiocese of Cincinnati.
Ten Reasons to
"Do you also want to leave?" (John 6:67)
When Jesus first asked his disciples this question,
it was poignant. Its original context made it heartbreaking. He
had recently told the people, "I am the bread of life." He had
offered himself as balm for their deepest longings, promising,
"Whoever comes to me will never hunger. Whoever believes in me
will never thirst." How did they receive the shining promise,
that generous outpouring of his life? John's Gospel is full of
words like quarreling and murmuring, and "they could
not accept it."
Before we are quick to condemn those who turned
away, we must ask ourselves the same question, "What about you,
do you want to go away too?"
I'd be the first to admit I've been tempted. At
times, Church politics gets depressing; at other times, the institution
seems terminally ill. When some of our thinkers and writers are
silenced, I grow sad. Some of my friends have left. So I asked
myself, "Why do you stay?" I found it a challengeas we all
mightto articulate beliefs so long, so deeply held, they
had become almost dormant.
I've borrowed an organizing device from David Letterman's
"Top Ten," but I'm going to cheat. I'll only give 9 reasons. Then
it's the reader's turn. If I don't include your favorite reason,
number 10 is up to you.
1. We are the community that remembers
I see this especially in the surrendered
lives of those who show us Christ's face, his hands and eyes and
words and compassionate touch. We call it the Mystical Body, but
it means that we recognize Jesus in the laughter and voices of those
around us: little kids, retired folks, teenagers, all those in whom
Christ continues to take flesh.
While all Christian communities remember
Jesus, Catholics do so in a particular, liturgical way. When someone
we love has died and we try to recapture memories of that person,
we usually do so through our senses. We remember Grandma's tortillas,
or the song that grandpa sang off-key. One of my friends whose husband
died broke down when she smelled his aftershave lingering in his
It is the same with Jesus. When we remember
him, we grope for the touch of his hands on a loaf of bread, the
sound of his voice telling stories, the words he breathed into wine.
We find him still in the simplest human activities, eating and drinking,
gathering with friends and telling stories.
When I was teaching undergraduates at
Regis Jesuit University in Denver, three students asked, "Mrs. Coffey,
are you coming to our Mass for Holy Thursday?" I was slightly taken
aback. It's not often that 19-year old boys invite me to Mass with
major enthusiasm. They did not get this excited about the English
class I was teaching. So I went. And what I saw is not unique; similar
liturgies occur around the country.
My college students were so dressed up
I could barely recognize them. They had vested for the high holy
days. They carried beautiful banners; they processed reverently
with bells and baskets and bread and wine. All the while they chanted
Tom Conry's song, "All people here who remember Jesus, brother and
friend. All who hold to his mem'ry, all who keep faith in the end."
It's for moments like those that I keep returning.
2. Catholicism has universality
We Irish have our gifts, but mariachi music isn't
one of them. So I've been grateful to the people with Spanish
and African-American backgrounds for the richness, the color,
the vibrancy they bring to our faith. No one tradition has the
resources to meet the challenges of the next century. Yet in the
Church, we find the pluralism that the human race will need to
Some examples may clarify number two. In Santa Fe,
I once attended a workshop that concluded around 10 p.m. It had
been a wonderful day, but we were all tired. So when we heard
that we'd end with the blessing, the Anglos assumed with typical
efficiency, "one size fits all"one blessing for all of us.
Wrong. Every single person got an individual blessing. I learned
that night that there are some things so important they don't
fit on a tight schedule.
What universality means in practical terms is that
on Wednesday night I can visit a poor parish where the people
come through pouring rain to sit on folding chairs in a gym with
a leaky roof. Then on Saturday, I can fly to a mega-church which
cost millions, a parish with the highest concentration of M.D.'s
and Ph.D.'s in the country. In both places, we explore the same,
unchanging Sunday Gospel, that crosses all the differences.
At the annual Los Angeles Religious Education Congress,
the range of liturgies makes this principle visible. Twenty thousand
people fill the Anaheim arena, all glad to be Catholic, all holding
hands for the Our Father. Universality takes on flesh when African-Americans
dance "The Deer's Cry," an eighth-century Irish prayer.
3. Catholics make bold claims
Sometimes these startle people of other traditions.
"Who do you think you are?" they might ask. We answer, seriously
and repeatedly, we are Christ's presence on earth today. We cooperate
with God to build God's kingdom in this world. In the Eucharist,
we say that through bread and wine, we become the body of Christ.
It may sound arrogant, but this is what Jesus meant when he said,
"You will do greater things than I have done." How's that for
a bold claim?
Each sacrament is similar, but take Confirmation
for another example. The Spirit comes, we say, through this ritual
gesture of imposing hands and this chrism signed on the forehead.
The same Spirit transformed terrified disciples who'd locked themselves
in a room in fear of the authorities. The same Spirit transfigured
the known world through the efforts of 12 people who weren't especially
bright or powerful. This same Spirit is ours.
4. The Church is a family
The church is at its best when we are like family:
When we lose sight of that, we become legalistic, antiseptic and
cold. Sometimes it's a dysfunctional family, but it gives my children
something broader and deeper than anything I could ever give them
alone. My oldest son, David, recently returned from Chicago, where
he attended Mass at O'Hare Airport. He said something I've waited
23 years to hear: "That's what I love about being Catholic. It's
the same everywhere in the world. I know what to do when they
take up the collection!"
When the rite of election was celebrated at the
cathedral in San Antonio, Texas, one little girl could barely
reach the Book of the Elect on the altar. So the bishop held her
up. She tried to copy her name off her name tag, and got the first
name fine. But when the last name proved too much, the bishop
wrote it for herwhat any kind grandfather would do!
I recently saw a Baptism in Raleigh, North Carolina,
that symbolized what we're all about. A tiny baby was immersed
in a huge pool of warm water, then wrapped up in a white towel.
The priest brought her forward and called all the children of
the parish to meet the new member of the family. While the people
said the Creed, the children (hundreds of them, materializing
out of the woodwork) marked the Sign of the Cross on the infant.
That is typically Catholic: Our most important messages aren't
put in words, but in gestures that speak at a level far deeper
5. We have splendid heroes and heroines
In a presidential campaign, the Republicans associate
themselves with Lincoln, and the Democrats remind us that they
are the party of Kennedy. We could borrow that tactic, saying
stoutly, "We are the Church of Catherine of Siena, Francis of
Assisi, Ignatius Loyola, Thomas More, Teresa of Avila, Vincent
de Paul, Elizabeth Ann Seton, Thomas Merton, Dorothy Day, Oscar
Romero, Rigoberta Menchu, the martyrs of El Salvador..."and
the litany could continue.
Richard Rohr, O.F.M., maintains that one difference
between a sacred culture and our contemporary culture is that
the sacred culture holds up its heroes, saying, "These are the
people worth imitating." The Franciscans in California, for instance,
named their missions (and eventually the cities) Santa Barbara,
San Francisco, San Jose, Santa Rosa, San Diego.
But what heroes do we offer our children? Arnold
Schwarzenegger, Madonna, Sylvester Stallone and Michael Jackson
have little or nothing to teach the soul. The frightening thing
about that is, we become what we imitate. Fortunately Catholics
have an alternate set of heroes and heroines.
6. Catholics always seem to have something
Guardian Angels in October, the Communion
of Saints in November, Our Lady of Guadalupe, St. Nicholas and Santa
Lucia in Advent, Catholic Education Week in January, Mardi Gras,
"burying the Alleluia" on Ash Wednesday and resurrecting it on Easter,
Pentecost and the Marian feaststhe list seems infinite. I
even heard about a Hispanic parish with an Irish pastor, where they
had a fiesta for St. Patrick's Day!
Garrison Keillor, popular author and
radio performer, remembers his Lutheran upbringing in his book Lake
Wobegon Days. As a boy he envied "Catholic Christmas, Easter,
the living rosary and the blessing of the animals, all magnificent.
The feast day of St. Francis was a feast for the eyes. Cows, horses,
some pigs, right on the church lawn....The band of third-graders
playing Catholic dirges and the great calm of the Sisters, and the
flags and the Knights of Columbus decked out in their handsome black
suitsI stared at it until my eyes almost fell out....We didn't
go in for feasts or ceremonies...while not far away the Catholics
were whooping it up. I wasn't allowed inside Our Lady, of course,
but if the blessing of the animals on the feast of St. Francis was
any indication, Lord, I didn't know but what they had elephants
in there and acrobats."
In contrast, my husband teaches Jehovah's
Witness children, who are not allowed to celebrate Halloween, Christmas,
or even their own birthdays. What a dreary, gray existence it could
be without a feast or fast to liven it up!
7. We draw on a rich spirituality
I know of no other tradition that celebrates
the sacredness of the ordinary as we do. All our sacraments name
and claim the divine depth that sustains ordinary life. So our symbols
that speak most eloquently are drawn from the most usual, earthy
things: wheat and vine, water, oil, touch. Such a sacramental theology
says that even when we are not aware of it, a wondrous grace and
mystery surround us always. Just as the bread and wine are transformed,
so are we. The words "This is my body" are not spoken only over
bread, but also over us.
A Church that puts Eucharist at its center
rewards the seeker, the hungry, those who don't have their acts
together, who don't know all the answers, but who need to come back,
week after week, and are always invited to return to the table.
Author Nathan Mitchell reminds us, "We are most ourselves when we
gather not for ritual slaughter or strategic planning, but to give
thanks." Our ritual actions prompt us to pay attention to what is
already going onhow much God's grace and power are already
at play in our world.
8. We take staunch stands on peace
Each locale boasts its own examples,
but across the United States homeless shelters, hospices, soup kitchens,
battered-women's shelters, AIDS treatment centers, literacy programs,
day-care centers, hospitals and schools are sponsored and staffed
by the Catholic Church. In many parts of the country we sponsor
immigration services and tutoring in English. Internationally the
work for justice continues through agencies like Catholic Relief
Services, Maryknoll and Jesuit Refugee Services. When the government
proposed welfare cuts that would endanger the poor, the Catholic
bishops protested loudly and forthrightly.
These clear actions and positions are
balanced by the humility to admit we can't do it all. As the prayer
of Archbishop Oscar Romero said, our limitations are an opportunity
for the Lord's grace to enter and complete our work.
9. The Church can contain tensions
This may seem odd, but I relish an image
of Church like a huge tent or umbrella under which everyone can
fit. Sometimes we seem to be splitting our seams, but we all still
stay because this is where we belong; this is home. It is a tension
into which we can relax, a struggle that can be lived.
Somehow the Catholic Church holds it
all in balance: the treasures of the Vatican art galleries and the
poverty of the Franciscans; the exuberance of the charismatics and
the quietness of centering prayer; drums, guitars, trombonesand
Gregorian chant. Any other Church would have a million splinter
groups: We contain it all. As James Joyce says, the Catholic Church
means "Here comes everybody." Sister Jose Hobday says her dad joined
the Catholic Church because it had more riffraff than any other.