My recent article on the marginalised people you mightn’t have noticed in your own parish, stirred up a bit of chat on The Catholic Weekly’s Facebook page, which is always fun.
One reader who identified as “weird” asked me to explain what “reaching out” might mean in real life. Should the poor and the weird at Mass find those who are even poorer and weirder than they are and reach out to them?
Good question. When we make motherhood statements like “the church needs to reach out to the marginalised”, what do we actually mean?
Do we mean that the church should open more charitable agencies in poorer areas, or more Catholic Offices for fashionable causes? Do we mean that the church should change its teachings so that no one will feel bad when they sin?
We’re the church. What are we supposed to do?
We know some of the answers already; they’re in the Beatitudes. We need to love God first, and then love our neighbour as ourselves.
All of us—poor, weird, and others—should be sharing our good things with those who have less than we do. This might be money. Or it might be time, furniture, clothing, baby-sitting, car rides, toiletries, canned goods, new toys for the kids, or having a coffee with someone who is going domestically insane.
A lot of us outsource our charity by donating to organisations who do the sticky stuff for us. There’s nothing wrong with that.
But you don’t have to go far from home to find people who can exercise your charity like a racehorse. These are the people who test your patience. These might also be the people in the parish who are the most marginalised, because they test everyone’s patience.
This is when the gift of your time can become very precious in the eyes of God. We’re all time-poor, and many of us have made a career out of rushing everywhere (raises hand). But sometimes you need to stop and be present to someone, even someone annoying. Especially someone annoying.
A fortnightly direct debit that we barely notice spares us from having to deal with difficult people. But when we meet them at Mass, there’s no escape.
For example, I find it hard when men in the parish speak rudely to their wives in front of me. But I know that if I rebuke a man like that directly, it may make his wife’s life harder at home.
So, I have to be patient and polite to show a better example, and I have to pray for both of them (while I grind my teeth).
There’s also an older man who sometimes comes to Mass in my parish, always dressed in 1980s women’s clothing. He doesn’t stick around after Mass or say hello. I’m not sure anyone in the parish knows how to break the ice here, but I hope we’re all praying for him, and I hope you will as well.
A parish can become a hotbed of long-standing feuds about all kinds of things—sometimes even over someone sitting in “your” seat at Mass.
Over the years, I’ve seen some incredible shouting matches take place in churches between very good people. If it’s gotten to that point, then it’s a sign that you need to take a break from whatever it is (including flower-arranging).
This is the real challenge of Christian love. We all fail regularly at it, so you’re in good company.
They do say that you only love God as much as the person you hate. G K Chesterton also put it well when he talked about how we love our fellow man but hate our next-door neighbour.
I’m not talking about gushing or fawning or throwing your arms around everyone. I personally run away from these people, and I think you should, too. But would it kill you to make eye contact and maybe even smile as you come into the church? Or as you’re leaving?
You’re also allowed to say hello and comment on the weather and introduce yourself. It’s remarkable what politeness can do and how far it can take you. It’s taken me years, but even I can now make adequate small talk when cornered.
This is all do-able—and anyone can do it. You don’t need to go on a training course. It doesn’t require the church to create a new salaried office or change its teachings. It requires us to start living those teachings, that’s all.
It’s good for your parish and your soul.
