LOCKING THE DOORS

LOCKING THE DOORS

In the course of the General Congregations [gatherings of cardinals] leading up to the conclave that elected Pope Francis, around 130 speeches were given [5 minutes or less]. This is a great example of “synodality,” by the way!

          More to the point, when Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio spoke, he referred to the image of Revelation 3:20 [now famously depicted in a painting by pre-Raphaelite William Holman Hunt, among others] of Jesus knocking at the door. Traditionally interpreted to mean the door of the soul, which can only be opened from the inside to welcome the Lord, Cardinal Bergoglio asked if it isn’t the case that sometimes Jesus is already in, and we refuse to let Him out [that is, into the world with us as His agents/evangelizers/missionaries]. He observed that the Church, when failing to reach out, becomes “self-referential,” believing “…she has her own light; she ceases to be the mysterium lunae [“the mystery of the moon”—only reflecting, not generating] and gives way to that very serious evil which is spiritual worldliness… Living to give glory to one another.”

          It reminded me of a contemporary Catholic hymn I’d sung decades ago: “Catch the Bird of Heaven.” The implication was that we want to “domesticate” the Holy Spirit in a specially made golden cage so we can be in control. Picking up again on the image from Revelation, the question is whether we lock the tabernacle so that no one can break in, or so the Lord cannot “escape”?

          Becoming “self-referential” means thinking that the structures of the Church are in place in order for me to become content with myself, to hope for the glory of advancement in status, perhaps becoming a bishop or a cardinal, perhaps with the “importance” of a job in the Curia, of wanting others to recognize me as special and important: in short, the worst forms of clericalism that can be imagined.

          On the contrary, Bergoglio’s “intervention” [as those speeches are called] challenged the cardinals to look for someone willing to be docile to the Spirit, willing to bring Jesus to the “peripheries” (“…not only geographically, but also the existential peripheries: those of the mystery of sin, those of pain, those of injustice, those of ignorance and religious indifference…and those of all misery.”). This challenge exists for us today, and it is the reason I am conducting the sharing sessions of our parish’s personal “synodality,” so we can figure out the ways we can bring Jesus to the “peripheries” of west Mobile. Our business as Catholics is not to make ourselves feel good; it’s not even to make ourselves “better”—our business is to bring the love and mercy and truth of Jesus Christ to those we encounter, most especially by example and action.

          Peter, Paul & Mary once recorded a song which contained this refrain: Take off your old coat, and roll up your sleeves. Life is a hard road to travel, I believe. The road into the peripheries is also a hard road—but it is also the narrow road that leads to Life.