Using the Church

“On this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.” (Matthew 16:18)

My blog posts of the last several years have been stridently written. It is a self-declared freedom which I continue to enjoy – and which friends and acquaintances either endure or genuinely affirm. I write regularly reminding myself that blogging is not a creative writing fest or a popularity contest nor written for book publishers. It is me from my homey vantage which was there when I preached sermons and will likely continue till the day that I die. Within that freedom on many occasions I have distinguished between faith and church, arguing repeatedly that genuine faith is not coterminous with church, citing repeated illustrations from truck drivers or varying profane settings which illustrated profound faith in contrast to some church situations that would illustrate anything but faith (eg "Where Have all the Churches Gone" July 28, 2021 and “Sacred and the Profane" December 16, 2020). These and other articles were bravely worded and possibly a bit overstated, but interestingly have yielded large numbers of hits and affirmations.

I attended a funeral a few days ago which is giving me considerable cause for further thought on topic of faith and churches. It was the funeral for a young South Sudanese man, shot dead by Calgary Police on February 19 last. Funeral Mass was at Holy Trinity Catholic Church. I sat in the assembly just back of reserved seating for family members along with hundreds of others at this liturgy offered by a young priest and an elder assistant along with music and soloist probably provided by parish or funeral home. It was a service which appeared standard, kind of generic, and became increasingly meaningful to me kneeling and rising as per screened instructions along with family, relatives and row upon row of African friends.

What struck me was the twofold reality played out right before my ears and eyes. It was both a service of the church and a service of the people. Not too long into service there was a disturbance off to one side near back of the assembly. A distraught woman was protesting many things, hard to understand her complaints, but causing some disturbance around her. As the troubles became more pronounced a large black man from opposite side of congregation walked calmly over to her and obviously provided some solace not only for her but everybody else in the building! The atmosphere kind of settled – still some protestations but subdued during reading of the Word and the homily. Then it resumed, even louder; this time several others joined in trying to help –  problem solving scene growing as per need. The service never faltered. The lamentations never quite ended, waves of emotion or sorrowful protest in varying intensity throughout Eucharist including the prayers of penitence, absolution, and even the censers of incense smoke. Something about this conjoined atmosphere became holy to me, even moreso as this woman came to the front and joined in with family at tribute to the deceased – her troubled grieving also part of the sharing and wiping of tears. There was minimal attention to her bothersome manner, yet full attention to her troubled spirit.

The celebrant priest did not participate in any of this extra drama. My impression was that it may have been a surprise to him too, and he accommodated it very well, perhaps aware this is what this community might do on this occasion. Nobody called into question any of the prayers or liturgy while the people grieved. After closing benediction and congregation beginning to exit following the casket a strong confident voice sang what was kind of an intonation, and then like crashing breakers, the whole church erupted in song, everybody at full volume, unabashed beautiful funeral dirge, powerful, tearful. I knew not the words, but I knew I was part of a huge mass choir. Thoughts of the heavenly worship in Revelation 5 came to mind.

There is inspiration in this service of space and liturgy offered by the Catholic Church. With minimal words of welcome or commentary about the deceased, especially the emotional circumstance of his death, it was a service of prayers to usher this brother into presence of almighty God, forgiving sins and commending to his eternal home, providing opportunity for those who desired to also taste of the living bread (There were only about a dozen who took communion on this occasion). In hindsight I recognize now that the liturgy and the disturbance were both essential to make this a genuine holy occasion, fully reinforced in the sharing time from the pulpit which followed. Here a daughter of the deceased shared tearfully her love for her dad, and also conviction that he should not have died just yet, with others wiping her tears while she spoke, including the distraught lady who had made all the noise earlier! In my mind this is what embodied the service which then perfectly climaxed with the recessional hymn led by the mystery cantor. Beyond a doubt at this funeral mass I knew myself to have been in the presence of God.

The Church. I have always equated it to the faith community of those who have made adult decision to become followers of Jesus Christ. In the last while I have become somewhat critical of today's churches seemingly more attentive to institution or building maintenance than spiritual ministry. Needless to say this gathering of black mourners so well accommodated by the world’s largest liturgical church leaves an impression on me. Seems to me I saw demonstration of being church, rather than many these days still trying to do church. 

This is the church which has been found wanting by evangelicals because of minimal requirement of personal faith commitment, found wanting in recent years because of clergy misconduct and recent further discovery of residential school horrors like burial of unnamed children on church property. This also is the church at present time with new  attention to evangelism, youth education and pastoral care as well as stepping up to the plate to confront environmental and sociopolitical developments in the ‘world’s lungs,’ namely the South American rainforests (see Beloved Amazonia, Pope Francis, Orbis Books, 2020).

So, perhaps a bit of corrective is in order here. I still maintain personal faith is more important than institutional form and liturgy. It appears, however, that a repentant church which allows itself the avenue of selfless service, as demonstrated at this funeral, is a good testimony and invitation to personal faith. The Protestant mode operandi of pulpit ‘rightly dividing the word of truth’ no longer has the lustre it had, especially when the pulpiteers themselves fall victim to the very sins they are apparently proclaiming us out of. Seems to me therefore that churches whether Catholic or Protestant or in-between who by their very being allow themselves to be used for the benefit of all; they are the ones who will hear "Well done, good and faithful servant(s)!" (Matthew 25:23)