Libophobia. OK that's not actually a word so far as I know, but I'm using it to describe the reaction that some Catholics have toward me on social media and IRL because I'm not a card-carrying member of EWTN/LifeSiteNews/Word On Fire, etc. I personally don't even think the word liberal adequately describes me because I'm straight down the middle most of the time. There's He Said/She Said and The Truth and I like to think that I fall on The Truth's side. But I guess if wanting to offer sinners like myself mercy and a seat at the table makes me a liberal, so be it.
Mercy that cannot be offered without condemnation is not mercy at all. It is judgment pure and simple.
Faith that is lived isolated and insulated from the rest of the world is faith not practiced. Without works in whatever way we are capable, faith is dead.
Daily Mass, the Rosary and other devotions are part of my daily life. I try to get to Adoration as often as I can but not as often as I should. What's not so routine for me is the service to others part. It can come in small ways, like smiling at someone who refuses to wear a mask and protect others at Mass, or holding the door open for someone that I know will not say thank you. Or it can come in ways that require more of myself and my time. Participation in service to the homeless is one such commitment I try to make whenever possible. For reasons unknown to me, it is much easier for me to extend myself to perfect strangers than it is to family. Familiarity breeds contempt and never so much as when I'm asked to do something I don't necessarily want to do for someone I know but don't particularly like.
For a long time I didn't really grasp the meaning of terms like "xenophobia" or "homophobia" but now that I encounter people who have an aversion toward me, I do. Phobias where we are convinced with absolute certainty of our truth and where we fear that extending kindness will lead to some sort of compromise of our faith are really not rooted in God. We would reduce God's Kingdom to a country club if we insisted on a "smaller and more pure" church. Christ was very clear that He didn't come for the righteous but for sinners. But who is a sinner? Every last one of us.
The Church need not condone to welcome. It need not compromise to show mercy. Those who insist that the wrongs of abortion and cohabitation are the most suitable topics for homilies are those who most need to hear a homily about setting aside judgment and condemnation of others. There are all sorts of debates about what constitutes real charity. Those who would welcome the sinner might say charity is rolling up your sleeves and getting your hands dirty to perform some servile act which will not be reciprocated, kind of like washing the dirty feet of 12 apostles. Those who would prefer their pews not be contaminated by the great unwashed will insist that charity is constantly reminding someone else of their sins while repeatedly ignoring their own.
Recently I heard a sermon about our hypocrisy toward our own sinfulness. The priest relayed a story about a Chicago priest who opened the doors of his church to drug addicts and prostitutes during a week of bitterly cold weather. He said he found the whores most refreshing because they were out in the open with their sins, while his usual congregation, much like the rest of us, kept their evil hidden. When you're a prostitute everyone knows what you're up to but when you're a doctor, or a lawyer or a teacher, your offenses are not so obvious. Why is the person who is upfront about their weaknesses any less welcome? Who made the determination that sins of the flesh are more offensive to God than treating the least of us like lepers who are to be shunned and ostracized? Who?
In Luke's Gospel, Jesus reminds us that the gate to the Kingdom of Heaven is narrow, and that those who ate and drank with Him and listened to His teaching may not necessarily enter. The presumption of mercy, rather than the admission of our sinfulness and recognition of our complete dependence on God is a perilous state for the soul. Even for one that attends daily Mass, prays the Rosary every day and strives for a smaller, more pure church. Maybe especially that one.
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