“For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.” Galatians 5:1
During my first few month of living in Mexico, I decided to attend a men’s retreat called the School of the Cross. Since I was only just beginning to learn Spanish, I didn’t understand much of what was going on and I couldn’t communicate well with anyone. Our first night, after dinner, we were given candles and led to the inner courtyard of the retreat house. Soon afterwards, our retreat leader, a priest named Roberto, entered the courtyard carrying the kindled Pascal candle. As in the Eucharistic Vigil, we lit our candles off the Easter candle as we sang a song. Father passed through the midst of us sharing his fire with us and before long, the entire place was bright with the flames of a hundred or so men.
Then Father Roberto began speaking to us. While he was speaking (I couldn’t understand almost anything he said) a second priest and some of the men who were working on the retreat staff passed among us and put out our candles one by one. Before long all was dark again except the Pascal flame. Father asked why we let our lights go out. Although I am not a hundred percent sure what that activity was supposed to teach us, it was only last year (ten years later) that this event became significant to me.
We have struggled over the years in our mission life with those inside the Church, especially clergy, who seem to want more to put out our lights than light them. Sometimes I have seen people within the church who would rather others walk in darkness and ignorance or at the very least follow their own small light instead of watching the light of the world increase within the community. They would rather a controlled burn than a flame that will catch the world on fire.
As I reflected on this event in my life, I realized that it wasn’t the other retreatants nor those outside the center who were threatening our lights, but rather the other priest and those who worked the retreat who were putting them out. In my life, I have experienced the most persecution, misunderstanding and judgement from those who work within the church. Oftentimes in mission, our creative initiatives have been viewed as suspect at best and at times, we have experienced downright hostility. I didn’t realize that their hostility wasn’t an indication of God’s desire. I remember that at first, if a priest or bishop suggested or petitioned something, I assumed it was the voice of God. I remember once we had a wonderful flourishing ministry in Peru. It was our first Ezekiel Home.
Our pastor asked us to leave that ministry and our town and move out to a distant village. If I had been more prudent (and a bit more courageous), I would have told him that that I didn’t believe that was a good idea because we were leading an entire community of missionaries. Teresa and I needed to be available to them. Instead of this, I just said yes believing that the voice of the pastor was the voice of God. Now I realize it wasn’t a great decision. We should have stayed and developed our ministry. We could have served our FMC fledgling community better. We didn’t guard our flame. Looking back on all these experiences I have come to appreciate how much we lay people have to offer our struggling Church. I look forward with anticipation to the upcoming Synod on Synodality. I know that if we allow the Holy Spirit to enflame our Church with the fire of God’s love we will have to also defend it—even at times against those we love within the Church.
FromMeToMissionary 