Starting
Point Church fills table with wayward offspring
By MICHAEL LEACH
It happened in the last century. I
had written an essay for America magazine called The Last
Catholics in America. Its purpose was to bring those Catholics who
welcome change and those who dont closer together. The ink had hardly
dried when I found myself on a TV talk show with an executive from Catholics
United for the Faith.
Catholics United for the Faith is an organization with profound
loyalty to the pope and the official teachings of the church. Its
representative was a middle-age fellow not unlike myself, rumpled from a day of
work and no more intimidating than Robert Young in Father Knows
Best.
While a makeup artist powder-puffed our faces and an electrician
wired us for sound, my new friend and I chatted about our jobs and families,
and discovered how much we had in common.
The show began. The man from Catholics United for the Faith was
cast as the conservative; I was the liberal. That made me nervous because I
like to think of myself as a reconciler. My friends at work will tell you that
my fiercest ideology is, Please, lets not argue.
Questions rained on us, and we protected each other with a shared
umbrella of civility while answering as best -- and cleverly -- as we could. At
one point, however, my colleague suggested that I was a supermarket
Catholic, one who picks and chooses pieces of his faith as if it were
food rather than follows the current menu of the official church.
Whats so bad about that? I answered. The
Catholic church is one of the greatest spiritual supermarkets the world has
ever known!
The problem is that the church has been promoting only a
small portion of what is available in its storehouse, and a lot of people are
hungry for whats been hidden, including its infinite variety of
desserts!
Truth was, we were in a game, and while neither of us meant to
hurt the other, to score points, perhaps we did.
A couple of years later the term supermarket Catholic
devolved into cafeteria Catholic, a derogatory term used to divide
allegedly picky Catholics from those who eat what is put on their plates. The
label entered the national consciousness, and suddenly the words dissent
and assent became dog tags. Many Catholics issued zingers on talk shows
that played out only in their minds.
Truth is, their Catholic cholesterol levels on the hot issues of
the day could never be high enough to separate them from the love of Christ
that beat in their hearts. The bloodstream of every Catholic -- liberal,
conservative or confused -- traces back to the same pool of blood at the foot
of a cross.
My television guest and I shared the same spiritual DNA. If we
hadnt been playing characters in a game, we would have trumpeted the
truth that in reality we were guests at a Great Feast whose tables are set for
everyone: the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame
and there
is still room for more (Luke 14:15-24).
Catholicism means throwing a party for everyone. We need someone
to remind us: The church is not a country club; its a family. Dissent
doesnt kill families; disinterest does. Cafeteria Catholicism is family
talk; Country Club Catholicism is refusing the invitation to a feast prepared
for us all.
The church as family fills its tables to bursting for prodigal
sons and daughters -- morning, noon and night. Like the parent in that parable,
such a church refuses to condemn or even compare one family member to another.
It takes Jesus words to heart: Judge not so that you might not be
judged. Or better yet, My child, you are always here with me, and
everything I have is yours (Luke 15:31).
Every once in a while, every one of us Catholics needs to remember
the invitation of Jesus to a full house, and to cultivate good manners at the
table built for us all.
After the TV interview, my colleague and I shook hands, thanked
each other for our endeavors to shed light not heat, and resumed our small
talk. We didnt say it but we knew that he was as much a supermarket
Catholic as I was, and I was as much a prix fixe Catholic as he was.
Each of us chose to emphasize some parts of our faith over others, but both of
us shared the same faith and knew we still had more to learn. The faith
that passes all understanding is by definition a faith that is always
in search of understanding.
I also knew that the man from the Catholics United for the Faith
was a good guy whod be nice to have over for dinner. It didnt
happen, but only for the same reasons that middle-aged folk seldom have even
old friends over for dinner anymore. They talk about it when they bump into
each other at the supermarket. They just dont get around to it.
Nobodys perfect.
But after all, who else is the Great Feast for?
Michael Leach is executive director of Orbis Books. This
excerpt is from I Like Being Catholic, co-edited by Leach and Therese
Borchard and published by Doubleday in October.
National Catholic Reporter, October 20,
2000
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