Chris McDonnell, UK
christymac733@gmail.com

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March 22

Thanks for stopping

Our culture is quick to criticise, to look for someone or some institution to blame. Our Church has not escaped such circumstances, for in recent years, many things have gone wrong. Nothing new in that, just that in earlier times we didn't have our faults blown across the media in front page headlines or shared world-wide on the net. Now every fragility is exposed and condemnation comes before honest evaluation of the facts.
 

Those of us who claim membership of the Church are no less responsible for, when something happens that we don't like, we blame 'the Church' rather than 'our Church'. It is no good stepping outside the boundary walls when we feel like it. It is then that our confession of faith is hardest, when we have to admit that all is not right and that we have made some contribution to the underlying causes of real difficulties.
 

As long as there is toleration of fault and failure, then fault and failure will continue and all are hurt by the fall out. We saw that recently in the expose over patterns of behaviour in the Charity Associations. Identifying blame is easy for the outsider, for those involved in a deeper and more personal manner it is much harder to handle.
 

Through all the years of the Christian Era, the Church has been beset by scandals of one sort or another yet through all the dross and failure, we have survived. There is a phrase that tells us that 'the Church has survived in spite of her clergy'. Sharp and harsh words indeed and, in some cases, justified. But the responsibility goes much wider than that. We have over many years accepted the docility of the laity, come to terms with patterns of clergy behaviour in the management of parishes that does not reflect the importance of the holy ground that we all share.
 

The very terms, clergy and laity, identifies a division in our communities, a border crossing that involves risk to  clergy and laity alike. If parishioners offer opinions they are termed troublesome by both priest and bishop. If a priest accommodates lay folk who wish to actively participate, then there is sometimes a call from the Bishop requesting an interview.
 

I may be overstating the case, but there is a strong element of reality in this outline of parish which, unless we all address it will give rise to long-term damage to faith and community. How should we make reparation, how do we share reform after the consequences of our mistakes? Not I would suggest by pointing fingers of blame at perceived culprits, rather by pulling up a chair round a table, first to participate in listening and then, after due consideration, to make a response. It is too easy to come to such a table with a clutch of old answers before crucial issues have been aired. Otherwise we will respond with a neat answer to a question that has not been asked and get no-where.
 

Francis has been our exemplar since he was called to the See of Rome in March, 2013, now five years ago. He has talked, he has listened, side-stepped the difficult question till he judged the time to be right. His patience with the Curia has been there for all to see. If only we could follow more closely his example, listening with charity rather than trading blows, seeking victories.
 

The Translation issue is a case in point. In spite of Bishop Maurice Taylor's excellent contribution recently, his words were not picked up in the Correspondence of the Catholic Times, nor to my knowledge elsewhere. Which is a pity, for the problem remains.
 

The matter of priestly celibacy urgently seeks an honest dialogue as parishes close through a lack of priests. That is a conversation that must take place sometime soon for the benefit of our Church. Ignoring it won't solve anything. Too often I recall to mind the line from Seamus Heaney, although written in differing circumstances. 'Whatever you say, say nothing'.
 

Stopping for a chat hurts no-one. Our local Anglican vicar who retired a few years ago, is often seen walking the village streets. I wrote this after meeting him a couple of weeks ago.

 Thanks for stopping

Retired from the Vicarage

he now walks the village on four legs,

ski-sticks and the ones he grew.

No lead on his dog collar

always a smile on his face

to accompany a comment.

We exchange words

at a roundabout

till, forced to move by traffic,

he lifts a stick high.

"Thank you for stopping!"

as I ease away on my journey.

There is the essence of a discussion, first the stopping and then the thanks that follow for the time taken. Thanks for a lift on the way.

                                                             END

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