When I came to the time in my life that I decided to convert, in my initial inquirers' meeting, the RCIA director asked me why I wanted to be Catholic. I don’t recall that I had specifically considered one reason in particular over any other.
There were many reasons, but above all else I was coming to the Church because of a spiritual longing that I had experienced for a long period of time, which at the moment was difficult to verbalize. However, one thing in particular stood out clearly – the image of a rock. Just briefly, I also recalled an earlier experience where a different kind of rock inspired my spiritual search.
Several years prior to my conversion, while as a teenager attending Oneness Pentecostal services, I had a close friendship with the preacher, Brother Noel, a man whom I admired much and looked to for guidance. One Sunday before the evening service I arrived early to find Brother Noel gathering rocks from the church driveway, picking through them, saving some and discarding others. He told me that I would be getting something special that night.
After the lengthy opening ritual of mostly unstructured singing, praise, and the usual gyrations, we settled in to hear the preacher’s message, ready to respond with plentiful affirmations of “amen.” The sermon was on Revelation 2:17. During his sermon Brother Noel took out a paper grocery bag, which contained several small rocks that he had collected earlier from the driveway. He gave each member of the congregation his or her own rock. Having been careful to pick out only white stones, he explained that the rocks stood to remind us of the scripture that we had been fed upon and of our having been given a white stone spiritually , which he said signified our having been given the Lord’s name in baptism.
The image of the white stone stayed in my mind for a long time to follow. Perhaps it was the peculiarity of the scripture passage that caused me not to forget it easily. I pondered its meaning, which I came to view as a sign of steadfast adherence to the faith and the reward of the resurrection, but the preacher’s interpretation was always near. As I grew away from the Pentecostal Church my memory of the white stone eventually slipped into the past, that is until the time came for my conversion to Catholicism.
When the RCIA director asked me what I saw in the Church that was strong enough to make me want to become Catholic, I replied that the Catholic Church represented a rock of stability that had stood the test of time. In the back of my mind I remembered the white stone that my preacher friend had given me several years prior. It stood to remind me, just for that moment, of the faith of my youth. I was at a turning point, a time of decision. Becoming Catholic meant letting go of what I had been deeply indoctrinated to believe about salvation. It meant letting go of the religion of my youth.
As I made my final decision I thought of the rock of stability that the Catholic Church represented, and I thought of Jesus’ proclamation to Peter that he would build his Church upon the rock. At the same time I thought of the white stone and what it had come to represent to me, and what I was leaving behind, but in front of me was the Eucharist that I longed for. It made my decision an easy one.
In my experience as a Catholic, I believe that I have received the true white stone of the faith. As I look at various commentaries on Revelation 2:17 the meaning of the passage is still hard to get at – there is plentiful disagreement. However, being a Catholic, I have come to appreciate the gift of authority invested in the apostles and their successors. Furthermore, I have come to understand the power of Jesus’ name to be the power of authority. Perhaps the white stone does in fact symbolize our having been given the Lord’s name – the gift of his authority.
I wonder if Brother Noel considered the impression that his sermon prop would make.
Enter through the narrow gate;
for the gate is wide and the road broad that leads to destruction,
and those who enter through it are many.
How narrow the gate and constricted the road that leads to life.
And those who find it are few.
I recall in the spiritual immaturity of my youth being concerned about the conditional aspects of the faith: how to think, speak, act, etc. As a young man I was also keenly aware of any failure on my part to meet what I perceived to be the overall expectations of the life in Christ. And so, I wondered, “What exactly is expected of me, now that I am a Christian, and how do I gain victory over the things in life with which I struggle?”
In the Gospel reading for today’s Mass, Jesus teaches us the way to perfection. Although entering through the narrow gate and staying on the straight path seems at first glance to be a daunting task, it is nevertheless the source of great personal peace and blessing.
Furthermore, Psalm 101 from the Morning Prayer sings of the “way of perfection.” The psalmist says that his is a song of kindness and justice. I think that kindness -- mercy and love -- and justice point us in the right direction as far as being able to walk in the way of perfection.
When we occupy our time with thoughts, words, and actions directed toward the service of others, the path of perfection begins to unfold. When our overall concern is mercy and justice the likelihood of failure diminishes. However, the psalmist offers practical instruction: do not look upon whatever is base; avoid the ways of the crooked, the false hearted, the slanderer, and the proud and haughty.
By being directed toward charity and justice we become a means by which Christ is visible to the world. We thus remove the emphasis from ourselves and place it entirely on the works which reveal God to others. When we are occupied in service we walk the way of perfection.
Overall, prayer holds the greatest importance in being prepared to walk in the way of perfection. When we bring our concerns to God, and when we bring our failures to him, God is sure to instruct us; he forgives our failings when we reveal all before him. He restores us through our constant communication with him. Prayer is the source of all strength, the source of peace and perfection. In my youth I learned that not all was lost when I failed. I learned to examine my conscience. I learned to pray in regard to where I failed and to seek guidance rather than taking it all on myself.
Living the faith should not be something that causes anxiety; rather, it should be the source of peace. However, from my experience and communication with others, I know there are many people, especially young adults, who have great anxiety in regard to life, and in regard to how they live the faith. In most cases we need simply to redirect ourselves toward what should be our greatest concern. Rather than being preoccupied with self, we should be oriented objectively toward the service of others, especially those who suffer, whose cries are heard in heaven. By being at the service of mercy and justice we orient ourselves toward God, who bears all perfections.
As I considered the readings from the Mass this morning, especially the words of the gospel, they prompted me to reflect on the way that we perceive the world around us.
The thought came to me that we can spend the majority of our lives without truly seeing clearly. What stands in our way? And how can we be sure that we have actually apprehended things as they are?
I especially reflected on how we allow our preconceived notions to blind us to the greater needs of the world around us. It is something common to us all – something in our human nature – that often prevents us from cooperating with the will and purposes of God. Where this habitual blocking out becomes problematic is when it prevents us from seeing the need of our neighbor, and from seeing how placing our own interests first can cause us to be blind to those most in need of mercy.
These are important questions for our lives and the times we live in. Perhaps never before in history has it been as important to be sensitive to the outcry of others. Our times serve as a proving ground for all who call themselves Christian. I believe what qualifies this is that never before has there been as deep a need as now, both spiritually and materially. Never before the modern age have we had as great a means to provide for others, and likewise never before have we had as great a means to destroy. Never before has the call to be at the service of others, and at the defense of the most vulnerable, been as great.
Most often what prevents us from apprehending the need of others, and from acting upon that need, is a habitual attitude of understanding our relation to the world only in terms of how it affects us personally, or perhaps how it affects us as a community, a city, a state, or a nation.
I have noticed among some of the more vocal proponents of self-preservation, both within the context of Catholicism and of political viewpoints, both on the progressive and conservative sides of issues, a self-righteousness surpassing that of the Pharisees of Jesus’ time. It is much too easy to be duped into putting on blinders or into viewing the world through colored glasses. The more insidious variety of blindness is that which encourages itself, that which encourages a closing off from the needs of the world around us in the name of being right.
It is becoming more common to find views that try to tell us there is something good or righteous about closing ourselves off from others. They tell us that somehow we serve the gospel or the truth by refusing to look beyond familiar or comfortable zones. Often they will mock us if we stand up for being open to ideas that challenge where we are now, or suggest that we let go of the idols that prevent us from seeing God in every human being.
Many years ago, a wise professor of mine, now gone to his reward, explained that what we need in order to see is simply to walk in the shoes of the fisherman. By suspending our preconceived notions, if only momentarily, we allow ourselves the opportunity to experience life from the other fellow’s point of view. Ordinarily we tend to have a difficult time with this simple concept. Perhaps it is because seeing from the vantage of someone else most closely resembles removing the plank from our eye.
| Sun | Mon | Tue | Wed | Thu | Fri | Sat |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 2 | 3 | ||||
| 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |
| 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 |
| 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 |
| 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 |
Recent Comments