This summer on my pilgrimage, I arrived at a smaller town with a big church, massive actually. Though it was massive and made out of craven stone, it was sad to see a tree growing out of the roof. I went in to see if I could celebrate Mass. When I arrived inside the church, I found it to be absolutely stunning. It had many beautiful altars that would make anything we have here look like first time wood projects from high school. Behind the main altar was a 40 foot relief of the Transfiguration. Each of the six figures was larger than life, painted in vibrant colour and roped off. It was one of the most amazing pieces of art work I witnessed on my pilgrimage. I talked to the fellow who was taking money from tourists and asked him if there was a Mass. He said yes and told me the time so I stayed and prayed for a while until Mass started. Ten minutes before Mass, a priest appeared. The man introduced us and then took me to a large sacristy (the place where priests get ready). Large is an understatement – it was over half the size of our church. On the ceilings were beautiful paintings. We vested and went out to a little table, not the main altar, and proceeded to say one of the most stripped down Masses I have ever attended. It got me thinking that to build a church like this, even in our day, would cost a fortune. It was easily worth more than all the churches in our diocese combined and it would take a considerable amount of time. The people must have really loved God here at one time. But that was gone. God had lost the place in their life. He became a custom. It was a sad experience and a great reminder of what happens when we forget the covenant of God in our lives. During this Lent, we are recalling our relationship with God and reflecting on what place it has in our life.
St Peter said to the Lord, “It is good for us to be here.” It is good to be here and God is inviting us to be here.
One fellow was recounting how his daughter was playing a game with her hands. She placed her hands together with her fingers interlocked and said, “Here is the church,” then put up her two index fingers up and said, “Here is the steeple.” Then flipping her hands over she said, “Open the doors and here’s all the people.” Then she said to them, “Sh sh sh.” The fellow reflected that it is probably quite close to what she has experienced. The little girl doesn’t know why she should be quiet in church, just that she has been told to be. I was wondering this week if we have become like students in my day, that is, you just sat there quietly and caused no problems. Everyone thought you understood the lesson and, truth be told, for the most part no one really cared if you understood the lesson as long as you weren’t causing any problems. Is this what our relationship is, to sit here quietly and pretend that it is all going okay?
I am sure God does not want this. That a master piece of a church would be completely empty. That we are just silent. We do not know that it is good to be here like Peter did. What would make it good to be here? I had one fellow tell me it would be good if we had some Lazy Boy chairs here. I told him that we already have too many lazy boys here.
We need to be like Abraham and the Apostles and be asking what will happen next. I am amazed at all that happens here. Each day I get to witness acts of faith, hope and charity. Two weeks ago, we had $25,000 left to go in Faith in Action, and this we week have only $3,000 left. That is an act of faith. After Stations of the Cross, some of our parishioners prayed over me and I felt like the weight of the world was lifted from my shoulders. I see the Legion of Mary each week meeting and then bringing Christ to the shut-ins. I see the different women of the parish making bandages and blankets for people in other places. I journey with a group of men who want to be better men and husbands and the sacrifices they make and humility they have to be that better man. I have seen miracles and heard of them in the places I have served. I see the faith. I see the love that is here.
We have a church and school and parish hall all built by some here and by our brothers and sisters in the Lord. What will we leave behind? What legacy will be yours? Will it be a legacy of faith, like Abraham, Moses, Elijah, the Apostles, the monks who built that Church many years ago? Will our legacy say, “Citizens of Heaven walked and lived here”?