In this
way, the life of the believer becomes an ecclesial existence, a life lived in
the Church. When Saint Paul tells the Christians of Rome that all who believe
in Christ make up one body, he urges them not to boast of this; rather, each
must think of himself "according to the measure of faith that God has
assigned" (Rom 12:3). Those who believe come to see themselves in
the light of the faith which they profess: Christ is the mirror in which they
find their own image fully realized. And just as Christ gathers to himself all
those who believe and makes them his body, so the Christian comes to see
himself as a member of this body, in an essential relationship with all other
believers. The image of a body does not imply that the believer is simply one
part of an anonymous whole, a mere cog in great machine; rather, it brings out
the vital union of Christ with believers, and of believers among themselves
(cf. Rom 12:4-5) Christians are "one" (cf. Gal 3:28),
yet in a way which does not make them lose their individuality; in service to
others, they come into their own in the highest degree.
Lumen Fidei 22
Reflection – We’re spending the week with the
encyclical on faith, in preparation for the end of the Year of Faith on Sunday.
Here we have the rather prickly matter of the relationship of the life of faith
to membership in the Church. It is a prickly matter because of course
‘membership in the Church’ means relationship to other human beings, and
relationships with other human beings are always marked by pain and difficulty
to some degree or other.
On the one
hand we have this deeply personal journey—faith, encounter with Christ, the
interior transformation of our being into love. On the other, we have being a
member of an institution, a structure with its rules and expectations, its
flawed human leaders and all the lamentable folly that attends any communal
human project—petty politics, back biting, corruption, mediocrity.
The two can
seem to have so little to do with each other, right? The spiritual life is one thing
over there, and life in St. Cecilia’s parish with its church suppers, raffles,
committees, and cliques is over there. What has one to do with the other, and
isn’t it rather outrageous of the Church to suggest that there is some
necessary and intrinsic connection between the two?
‘Why exactly
should I love the Church?’ a directee asked me this one time. It was a real
question, and the person had a point. The Church had done very little for her,
really. My answer was the only answer there is to give, and it’s the answer
given in this paragraph of the encyclical. We should love the Church because
Christ loves the Church, and Christ’s love is to be our love. We are espoused
to him, each one of us, and so what He loves, we love. It’s that simple, but
oh, what a journey that sets us on.
From looking
on the Church in a sort of infantile way—the mommy or daddy who we look towards
to be a perfect and unfailing presence of love and support for us, and then
fall into an adolescent rage when ‘mommy Church’ falls short of the mark or
‘daddy Church’ turns out to a bit of a jerk sometimes—we grow into adults who
are called to love and serve our brothers and sisters in the Church as Christ
loves and serves them, and as Christ loves and serves us, too.
In this adult
love for the Church, an adult love which we enter into with utter childlike
simplicity of faith and trust in God, we can then factually be crucified by the
concrete difficulties in a specific Church situation. The ravages of human sin
moving through the body of Christ like a cancer can cause us deep pain and
grief and anger (because we are still intensely human in all this), but we
don’t close our hearts and we don’t walk away.
We take the hit, we stand with
Christ at the whipping post, in the Praetorium, on Golgotha. That is what it
means to love the Church—certainly always to work towards a more just, a more
merciful, a more loving communal life within the Church, but always in that to
shoulder the Cross of Christ, always to start with ourselves and our own call
to love and be compassionate. Never to point fingers and hurl accusations and
blame everyone else for what’s wrong in it, from the Pope on down to the
children who don’t know how to behave at Mass.
It is only a
deep interior life of faith, only knowing the love of Christ for us and his
call to us into that love, that we can possibly endure life in the Church and
give ourselves to the ongoing mission of the Church to make God’s merciful love
visible in the world. But it’s all deeply connected, and we cannot separate out
the two. We love the Church because, and as, Christ loves Her, and our life of
faith is expressed in laying down our lives for the Church as Christ laid His
down for Her. Simple, but oh, what a journey.
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