People Who Don't Like Umpires Probably Don't Like the Church
The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe
Psychology tells us that a good number of people like clearly defined limits and easily identifiable boundaries that make differences perceivable, even obvious to the point of being blunt, so that there can be no mistaking something for something else, and especially not its opposite. Psychology calls this personality trait conscientiousness, and people with a high amount of conscientiousness are those who know exactly where their property line is; and you know it too, because of where their perfectly curated lawn neatly comes to an end. These are also the people who want to take umpires out of baseball, since a strike is a strike, and there ought not be room for interpretation. Ambiguity is not their friend, and the tension of coexisting, opposing polarities grates on them more than it does on others.
I am not a psychologist, but I suspect that many highly conscientious people probably have a hard time with the Church, because the Church lacks the clearly defined limits and easily identifiable boundaries that they find satisfying. And, more to the point, the Church is filled with coexisting, opposing polarities – some of which we call mysteries and others of which we call scandals – that make the Church a hostile place for them to be.
The Church exists in tension. It might not seem to be such, and even today’s readings can be taken to suggest that there are clearer and more distinct boundaries in the Church than there really are: David – and no one else – is acclaimed king; the good thief is welcomed into paradise, while the bad thief is not; Paul tells us that the Father has delivered us from the power of darkness and has made you fit to share in the inheritance of the holy ones in light. If we are in light, we are not in darkness; if we are with good thief, we are not with the bad; if David – and, ultimately, Christ whom he prefigures – is our king, then we have none other, and we all live peacefully within his kingdom. The Church’s property line seems to be clearly marked: those in the Church are holy and saved, and those outside it are not. Everything on the inside is well and good, and everything on the outside is sick and grim.
But all too often we are reminded that that is not the case. The Church exists in tension, and that tension is often painfully felt. The Church is holy and filled with sinners. The Church is the light of the world and is tinted with darkness. The Church is the kingdom of Christ with traitors for citizens. Saint Augustine, in his book, The City of God,1 teaches that the City of God and the City of Man do not have borders that separate them but are, at present, wholly indistinguishable. There are some now in the City of Man who are enemies of the City of God but who will become, in the end, its citizens. And there are some now in the City of God who, in the end, will not be with it in the eternal destiny of the saints. Augustine describes the overlap as such: In this world… these two cities remain intermixed and intermingled with each other until they are finally separated at the last judgment.
On her earthly pilgrimage, the Church exists in tension, and it cannot be otherwise. This tension must be held taut until this earth passes away and God is all in all. On that day, when Christ hands the kingdom over to his Father, when the saints in their full number are welcomed into paradise, and when there will be no more night, then – and only then – will the tension be resolved, and the Church will come to her perfection and her rest from the toils of her journey on earth. On that day, but no sooner, will the Church’s boundaries be clearly and distantly drawn.
In the meantime, it falls to us to make a decision about where to be: with the Church or without it. For as long as we stay with the Church, we will need to bear the brunt of her weakness. On the large scale and on the small, we will pass through the crucible of scandal after scandal; and ever while working to prevent them, when one demon is driven out, seven more and uglier will return to take its place. And we know not the hour when Christ will come to sort out the good from the bad, citizens from enemies, and put it all to an end.
But all the while, the Church on earth, sinful and suffering, is not without the cause of her future glory and triumph. The Church is, as is none other, the kingdom of Christ now present in mystery.2 For despite all else, the Church remains all that Christ made her to be; and he remains with her and leads her through every trial, through all adversity, through every scandal, as through the refiner’s fire that purifies gold to bring her to the perfect state to which she is called.
Whether we like manicured lawns or baseball umpires or not, we all want the Church to be what she says she is. We want the Church to be holy, to be filled with saints, to be a kingdom of light. None of us relishes the cognitive dissonance that comes with being a Catholic today, constantly affronted by scandal and sin. But there is no way to resolve the tension, to get to the destination, without passing through grace’s purifying fire. But there is also no way of purification that does not also require ourselves to be purified. The Church is not an abstract idea or a loose association of like-minded individuals but a people composed of flesh and blood; and that people is united as one by Christ and held together as his Body. The health of the Body depends on the whole Body to pursue health in all its parts.
If we can describe the pursuit of health simply, it is to allow Christ, the King of the Universe, to reign in and over our hearts. It is to let his dominion, which is vast and forever peaceful, bring peace to every corner of our life through the Gospel that has been preached to us. In the Gospel, we learn the virtues that mark out holiness, which put to rest the disparity between word and deed and make us citizens pure and entire of his kingdom.
And Christ’s kingdom, the only kingdom which will perfect us, reigns only in the Church, the Church in which he is at work to perfect. We may not always like the Church; and we often have good reason for not liking it. But it is to this Church that we belong, by which we will be brought to our perfection, and outside of which there is none other that can rightly offer the same.
We take our stand in Christ’s kingdom only in the Church, where his kingdom is present in mystery: a mystery that for now holds contraries in tension but will, in the end, give way to the simple and perfect light of glory: the glory of the kingdom, vast and peaceful, in which Christ lives and reigns with the Father and the Holy Spirit, God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Homily preached November 20, 2022 at the Cathedral of Mary Our Queen.
Augustine, The City of God, book I, chap. 35.
Vatican II, Lumen Gentium, 3.