December 4, 2009
Friday of the First Week in Advent
By
But a very little while, and Lebanon shall be changed into an orchard, and the orchard be regarded as a forest! On that day the deaf shall hear the words of a book; And out of gloom and darkness, the eyes of the blind shall see. (Isaiah 29:17-18)
The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom do I fear? The Lord is my life’s refuge; of whom am I afraid? (Psalms 27:1)
As Jesus passed by, two blind men followed him, crying out, “Son of David, have pity on us!” When he entered the house, the blind men approached him and Jesus said to them, “Do you believe that I can do this?” “Yes, Lord,” they said to him. Then he touched their eyes and said, “Let it be done for you according to your faith.” (Matthew 9:27-29)
Piety
Lord, I love my Church, flawed institution that it is, and Your people, flawed individuals that we all are. Grant me the charism of covert but passionate evangelization.
Study
Note: Shameless self-promotion ahead. But I hope it makes a point.
My friend Anna LaNave and I were interviewed recently about our book, When They Come Home: Ways to Welcome Returning Catholics (Twenty-third Publications), which comes out this month. The primary audience is parish leaders who are considering offering a program to minister to inactive Catholics. There are a lot of them out there; some estimates say more than 60 percent of those in this country who were baptized into our faith don’t go to Mass on a weekly basis.
“What do you say to people when you say, ‘I’m Catholic’ and they say, ‘Oooh, ugh’?” the reporter asked.
“I say, ‘I’m fifty-three, loud, outspoken, and passionate,’” I told her. “This is what Catholic looks like. Just like it can look like forty-two, a mother of four, and a lay minister.”
Just like it can look like seventy-three, centered, and serene.
Just like it can look like twenty-nine and frazzled over work and romance concerns.
Being Catholic looks like belief. It looks like opening our eyes to the miracles God puts in our lives every single day. It looks like listening when we don’t want to hear. It looks like putting fear aside—whether it’s fear of romance or a job or illness or a personal stretch—to do something God wants.
It looks like letting God turn our single cedar tree of gifts into an orchard of community, and then a forest.
It looks like living the word publicly—so Catholics and non-Catholic alike can see it and feel it—as well as praying it privately.
It looks like love.
Action
Journal about what being Catholic looks like to your non-Catholic friends and acquaintances. What are you reflecting?
