This has been a tough week
for Catholics in Baltimore,
as the prospect begins to sink in
that the Church in the city could go from
sixty-one parishes
to twenty-one.
It has been especially tough
for those parishes that,
in the current Seek the City proposal,
are slated to be closed and merged
into other parishes.
But even in parishes that are likely
to remain as worship sites
there is a pervasive sense
of shock and grief and, yes, anger
at the idea of nearly two thirds
of the parishes in the city closing.
Fallen human nature being what it is,
some may be gloating that their parish
has, as they see it, “survived”
where others have not,
but that is generally not
what I have heard from people.
The Catholic community in Baltimore
is tightly knit:
we know each other’s parishes;
we have worshipped at them over the years
at Baptisms and Communions and Confirmations;
we have admired the beauty
of their buildings and their people;
we are, as today’s Gospel puts it,
one flock with one shepherd,
Jesus Christ himself,
and so we bear each other’s sorrows
and share each other’s loss.
as the prospect begins to sink in
that the Church in the city could go from
sixty-one parishes
to twenty-one.
It has been especially tough
for those parishes that,
in the current Seek the City proposal,
are slated to be closed and merged
into other parishes.
But even in parishes that are likely
to remain as worship sites
there is a pervasive sense
of shock and grief and, yes, anger
at the idea of nearly two thirds
of the parishes in the city closing.
Fallen human nature being what it is,
some may be gloating that their parish
has, as they see it, “survived”
where others have not,
but that is generally not
what I have heard from people.
The Catholic community in Baltimore
is tightly knit:
we know each other’s parishes;
we have worshipped at them over the years
at Baptisms and Communions and Confirmations;
we have admired the beauty
of their buildings and their people;
we are, as today’s Gospel puts it,
one flock with one shepherd,
Jesus Christ himself,
and so we bear each other’s sorrows
and share each other’s loss.
Many may feel that the Church
is abandoning the city,
like the bad shepherds of whom Jesus speaks:
those who work merely for pay
and have no concern for the sheep,
who see a wolf coming and run away,
leaving the sheep to be scattered.
Let me say that while this feeling
is understandable,
I don’t think that is what is going on.
Perhaps I have simply, as they say,
drunk the Koolaid,
but I do believe that,
while I may agree or disagree
with this or that
specific recommendation,
the Seek the City process
has been a good faith effort
to address the needs of a shrinking flock
and laying the groundwork for the flock to grow.
But let’s not let the shepherds
off the hook entirely.
I will not deny that we clergy
must bear our measure of blame
for the state of the Church in the city today,
and for people’s skepticism
regarding anything we say about it.
Obviously, the abuse scandals
have driven away members of the flock
and engendered cynicism
among those who remain.
But also, and even more,
we clergy have all too often
simply not risen to the task
of forging new forms of ministry
amid depopulation and disinvestment,
high crime rates and pervasive poverty;
we have ourselves succumbed
to despair and inaction and cynicism
at the sight of emptying pews.
And, at the heart of it all,
we have sometimes
simply not loved God enough
to lay down our lives for God’s flock.
And for all this I can do no more than,
like Job, to repent in dust and ashes.
off the hook entirely.
I will not deny that we clergy
must bear our measure of blame
for the state of the Church in the city today,
and for people’s skepticism
regarding anything we say about it.
Obviously, the abuse scandals
have driven away members of the flock
and engendered cynicism
among those who remain.
But also, and even more,
we clergy have all too often
simply not risen to the task
of forging new forms of ministry
amid depopulation and disinvestment,
high crime rates and pervasive poverty;
we have ourselves succumbed
to despair and inaction and cynicism
at the sight of emptying pews.
And, at the heart of it all,
we have sometimes
simply not loved God enough
to lay down our lives for God’s flock.
And for all this I can do no more than,
like Job, to repent in dust and ashes.
But while, as always,
there is plenty of blame to go round,
and while we should be honest
about our failures,
laying blame and wallowing in failure
are not what the Gospel of Jesus Christ is about.
It is about the stone rejected by the builders
that becomes the cornerstone of a new Temple
in which we worship God in Spirit and in truth.
It is about the love of God bestowed on us
even while we lay dead in our sins,
making us God’s children.
It is about the assurance
that we have a good shepherd
who will never abandon us to the wolves,
a shepherd who lays down his life for us,
a shepherd who takes up that life again
so that we can be taken up with him
into the glory of eternal light.
there is plenty of blame to go round,
and while we should be honest
about our failures,
laying blame and wallowing in failure
are not what the Gospel of Jesus Christ is about.
It is about the stone rejected by the builders
that becomes the cornerstone of a new Temple
in which we worship God in Spirit and in truth.
It is about the love of God bestowed on us
even while we lay dead in our sins,
making us God’s children.
It is about the assurance
that we have a good shepherd
who will never abandon us to the wolves,
a shepherd who lays down his life for us,
a shepherd who takes up that life again
so that we can be taken up with him
into the glory of eternal light.
People need to be allowed to feel
the darkness of this moment;
they need to be allowed to grieve
and even to feel anger.
But if we are to be Christians,
darkness, grief, and anger
cannot be the final word.
In the midst of darkness,
we cannot forget the promise of light,
the light that streams
from the risen body of Christ.
St. John writes in our second reading,
“Beloved, we are God’s children now;
what we shall be has not yet been revealed.”
We can and should look at demographic trends
and population patterns in the city,
measure pew space and count numbers,
think through what is possible
and what is plausible,
but the fact is that we don’t know
what God’s plans are
for the Church in Baltimore:
what we shall be has not yet been revealed.
And it is hard to live without knowing.
But we do know we are God’s children now;
we know that we have a good shepherd;
we know that a stone rejected
has become the cornerstone;
we know that God brings life out of death
for we have met the risen one on the road
and felt our hearts—
weighed down with darkness, grief, and anger—
burn within us with the fire of his love.
We know that he is risen,
and we are risen with him,
and nothing can separate us from his love.
This is the faith that will carry us through
the difficult months ahead,
for this is the faith that will carry us
through death into eternal life.
the darkness of this moment;
they need to be allowed to grieve
and even to feel anger.
But if we are to be Christians,
darkness, grief, and anger
cannot be the final word.
In the midst of darkness,
we cannot forget the promise of light,
the light that streams
from the risen body of Christ.
St. John writes in our second reading,
“Beloved, we are God’s children now;
what we shall be has not yet been revealed.”
We can and should look at demographic trends
and population patterns in the city,
measure pew space and count numbers,
think through what is possible
and what is plausible,
but the fact is that we don’t know
what God’s plans are
for the Church in Baltimore:
what we shall be has not yet been revealed.
And it is hard to live without knowing.
But we do know we are God’s children now;
we know that we have a good shepherd;
we know that a stone rejected
has become the cornerstone;
we know that God brings life out of death
for we have met the risen one on the road
and felt our hearts—
weighed down with darkness, grief, and anger—
burn within us with the fire of his love.
We know that he is risen,
and we are risen with him,
and nothing can separate us from his love.
This is the faith that will carry us through
the difficult months ahead,
for this is the faith that will carry us
through death into eternal life.
