Before I take an exam laughably called, "Fundamental Theology," (we'll get to that shortly) let me reach out as the slightly older brother to the RCIA class at the Cathedral Basilica of St. Louis. It's February now, getting toward Easter, and the night you will (God willing) be received into the loving arms of Mother Church. I don't know most of you, and you don't know me, but my name is Jason, and I sat right where you sit each Monday night. I have been bribed with the same cookies, allegedly read the same books, prayed the same prayers, and sported the same befuddled look as you do about 56% percent of the time. You need to know that I pray for you often. Some of you have oddball reasons for being where you are, and that's OK. There's nothing they haven't heard. Some of you may be currently Protestant, and wondering what sort of funny joke this might be. Some of you want to become Catholic, but are not sure you can. I understand. I really do. In fact, February was the scariest time for me. What I want you to do first is breathe. You are alive and well enough. Your life will not end on that night (presumably) and whatever you fear is not nearly so bad as you think. I want you next to look at the front of the room where you sit Monday nights. There is a crucifix there; whether you go through with it, or you walk out and say, "No, thanks," I want you to remember that the crucifix there is a personal message: JESUS LOVES YOU. Every person who has taught you lives in the reality of this, and takes it as a personal opportunity to communicate that to you. You are blessed even to make the briefest of acquaintance with the priests you have met. They love you, and no, they don't care if that sounds corny.
You've most likely heard about the Rite of Election coming up. Unless you've definitely decided you're not going to become Catholic, I'd recommend attending and participating. Even in the case of uncertainty, go. God is gracious to give graces and blessings you cannot presently anticipate. Our Archbishop is a wonderful holy man, who will teach you plainly the things of Christ.
Some of you, from deeply committed Protestant backgrounds, have words floating in your head: "legalism," "Mary," "Trent," and "justification." There may be others. In any case, your teachers and your priests are all too ready to answer any of those if needed. Bryan and Carol have sat there, too, with those same floating words. It might be intellectual, but for others of you in that place, it is much more personal. You have friends and family questioning you, maybe even attacking you, and you're not sure about this whole deal. In that place, I ask you to do two things: Walk, and pray. Some time very soon, go in to the Cathedral and walk around. Pray with your eyes open. Look up. See the simple scenes on the walls before you. Not the beauty, nay, not the beauty. The pleasure of beauty is for another day. But notice the Apostles. Notice the scene depicting Pentecost. Simple men who found their way to Jerusalem to do what good Jews are supposed to do. But on that day, God had other plans. And a new age dawned right in front of them. Everything they knew was about to change. Well, almost everything. Do you realize--brother or sister who has confessed Christ in another place, maybe even believing that the leaders here were your enemies in the gospel--what God is actually doing? God is calling His children back home to the Mother we never meant to leave. This is your home. This whole Church is where you belong. If you have been attending Mass, pay special attention to the Liturgy of the Eucharist and all the prayers therein. If you listen closely, you will hear your own heart crying out to pray these same prayers. It is not as though we'd done nothing before. But nothing so clear and direct. I no longer have doubt that prayer matters. It's as if these prayers must be said. Like all broken humanity waits for their utterance. Perhaps time will pass and I'll discard such romantic notions, but I think not. I no longer want to live without these prayers; I pray my own words in union with these.
And this Jesus Christ who comes to us in the Eucharist! Love so plain, it melts you. From the altar there, he's calling you. Even now, I know.
Do you know, there is another place not far away where you can know His love? You needn't fear Confession. This might be where Christ's love is deepest. "Let the little children come to Me, and do not hinder them..." You need to know this. God's grace is greater than your sin, every time. "Where sin abounded, grace abounded all the more." Legalism? Ha! A lie straight from the pit of Hell.
I just want to wrap it up by saying that I love you. You may not think you're going to make it, but you will. We know it. One day at a time. One prayer at a time.
You've most likely heard about the Rite of Election coming up. Unless you've definitely decided you're not going to become Catholic, I'd recommend attending and participating. Even in the case of uncertainty, go. God is gracious to give graces and blessings you cannot presently anticipate. Our Archbishop is a wonderful holy man, who will teach you plainly the things of Christ.
Some of you, from deeply committed Protestant backgrounds, have words floating in your head: "legalism," "Mary," "Trent," and "justification." There may be others. In any case, your teachers and your priests are all too ready to answer any of those if needed. Bryan and Carol have sat there, too, with those same floating words. It might be intellectual, but for others of you in that place, it is much more personal. You have friends and family questioning you, maybe even attacking you, and you're not sure about this whole deal. In that place, I ask you to do two things: Walk, and pray. Some time very soon, go in to the Cathedral and walk around. Pray with your eyes open. Look up. See the simple scenes on the walls before you. Not the beauty, nay, not the beauty. The pleasure of beauty is for another day. But notice the Apostles. Notice the scene depicting Pentecost. Simple men who found their way to Jerusalem to do what good Jews are supposed to do. But on that day, God had other plans. And a new age dawned right in front of them. Everything they knew was about to change. Well, almost everything. Do you realize--brother or sister who has confessed Christ in another place, maybe even believing that the leaders here were your enemies in the gospel--what God is actually doing? God is calling His children back home to the Mother we never meant to leave. This is your home. This whole Church is where you belong. If you have been attending Mass, pay special attention to the Liturgy of the Eucharist and all the prayers therein. If you listen closely, you will hear your own heart crying out to pray these same prayers. It is not as though we'd done nothing before. But nothing so clear and direct. I no longer have doubt that prayer matters. It's as if these prayers must be said. Like all broken humanity waits for their utterance. Perhaps time will pass and I'll discard such romantic notions, but I think not. I no longer want to live without these prayers; I pray my own words in union with these.
And this Jesus Christ who comes to us in the Eucharist! Love so plain, it melts you. From the altar there, he's calling you. Even now, I know.
Do you know, there is another place not far away where you can know His love? You needn't fear Confession. This might be where Christ's love is deepest. "Let the little children come to Me, and do not hinder them..." You need to know this. God's grace is greater than your sin, every time. "Where sin abounded, grace abounded all the more." Legalism? Ha! A lie straight from the pit of Hell.
I just want to wrap it up by saying that I love you. You may not think you're going to make it, but you will. We know it. One day at a time. One prayer at a time.
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