Dear Friends,
In his great novel The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoevsky tells the story of a woman who comes to a holy monk, Father Zosima. She dreams of loving humanity, of dedicating her life to serving others, and of making great sacrifices for the good of the world. But she admits something rather embarrassing: she finds it much easier to love humanity in general than to love actual human beings. She loves people in theory, but when they get too close, when they become demanding or irritating, well, that’s another story. And I suspect most of us can relate. It’s easy to love humanity. It’s the people who drive us crazy!
Perhaps that is why Jesus gives us the two great commandments together: to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. These commandments cannot be separated. Our love for God must become visible in the way we treat one another. And often, that love is expressed not in extraordinary acts of sacrifice, but in the smallest gestures of kindness, patience, and generosity.
We are blessed at St. Peter’s to be a growing, vibrant parish where there are more people coming to Mass than a few years ago. Many of whom are young families. This growth challenges all of us and creates an opportunity to connect these two commandments of loving God and loving neighbor right here at church!
Sometimes, quite literally, it means making room in the pew. I know that many of us have been sitting in the same place in church for years. Some of have been sitting in the same pew longer than I’ve been alive! I love it because there is something beautiful about having a spiritual home, about belonging somewhere. I know some parishioners who sit near a window donated by their parents or grandparents. This makes St. Peter’s a true spiritual home. And the wonderful thing about a home is that we can make room for others. So when someone comes into church looking for a seat, what a simple and beautiful act of Christian love it is to move over, offer a smile, and make that person feel welcome.
I also want to say something to our families with young children. First of all, thank you for bringing your children to Mass. I know it isn’t always easy. Sometimes just getting everyone dressed, into the car, and through the church doors is practically a miracle. And then, just when you finally sit down and think you might have a moment of peace, the baby starts crying or the toddler decides that the quietest moment of Mass is the perfect time to say something truly shocking. Someone told me a story yesterday from when Msgr. Slipe was pastor. Evidently when they had young children, during the quietest part of Mass one of the children yelled: “When is this going to be over?!” When this happens maybe you as a parent feel every eye in the church turning toward you. Perhaps you feel embarrassed or worry that you’re disturbing everyone. Please know that your children belong here, and so do you. We are grateful that you are here. You are not a burden to our parish. You are a blessing.
My father died when I was 6 years old. My mother continued to bring the four of us children to Mass. While I would like to believe that only my siblings were little terrors, I know we all caused some havoc! I am grateful to the parish community who supported and assisted my mother during that time. Perhaps, if they had not been so supportive, I would not be a priest. Church is where children learn to pray. It is where they encounter people of faith trying to become holy. They learn from us how to be faith filled disciples of Jesus.
So to those of us without small children, I would simply ask that we have tender hearts. When a baby cries, offer the parents a smile. When a child becomes restless, remember that children are still learning what it means to pray. Most of us weren’t exactly models of perfect behavior when we were three years old either. Some of us still aren’t! Of course, we treasure the sacred silence of the Mass, and parents do their best to help their children learn reverence. But the Church is not a museum. The Church is a family. And families make noise. Families interrupt one another. Families test our patience. Families make room for one another.
And isn’t that exactly what God does for us? Think about how often we come before the Lord distracted, restless, impatient, carrying our worries and weaknesses. Yet God never looks at us and says, “Would you please come back when you’ve got yourself together?” He welcomes us. He receives us. He makes room for us in His heart. And if God is so patient with us, shouldn’t we be patient with one another?
There is something deeply beautiful about the fact that God does not love humanity merely in general. He loves each of us personally. He knows our names, our struggles, our weaknesses, and our imperfections. And He loves us anyway. This is the love Jesus asks us to imitate. Not simply loving people when they are easy to love, but loving them when they need our patience, when they interrupt our comfort, and when they ask us to make a little room.
Every Sunday, we come to Mass to receive the Eucharist. We receive the Lord who has loved us, not because we are perfect, but because we are His. And then He sends us out to love others in the same way. The person who interrupts us, the child who makes noise, the stranger who needs a seat, the person who asks a little more patience of us than we would like to give—these are the people God has placed before us. And this is where Christian love becomes real.
Because, in the end, we do not love God instead of loving our neighbor. We love God by loving our neighbor.
God bless you all,
Fr. AJ
Watch the most recent homily clip from Fr. AJ here.
Rev. Andrew J. DeSilva