Who Is this Cathedral For?

The Anniversary of the Dedication of the Cathedral of Mary Our Queen

N.b.: The actual anniversary of the Dedication of the Cathedral is November 15. It is yearly transferred to the nearest weekend for the whole parish to celebrate the occasion together.

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As we celebrate the anniversary of the dedication of this Cathedral, I’d like for us to reflect on this question: who is this Cathedral for? What sort of person belongs here?

I myself have given up the luxury of choosing my parish for myself; but if I were to have just moved to Baltimore and happened upon this church, would I see it as a place for me? Cathedrals are, by definition, the most important church in a diocese; and in this case its importance seems amplified by both its location and its imposing stature. Its stones so carefully arranged, its windows so thoughtfully planned, its aesthetic so consciously preserved, Mary Our Queen might give the impression that it is a Cathedral for people like it: mature, put-together, and refined. Would I see it, then, as a place for me? For as much as I may strive to meet the standard this Cathedral imposes, I am keenly aware how far short of it I fall.

It is possible, even easy, to say many wonderful things about this Cathedral. Reflecting on her in recent days, I myself have been enraptured once again by her beauty in details great and small. I have enjoyed sharing what I love about this Cathedral and hearing the same from you at this past week’s Cathedral Colloquium as well as in many passing conversations. There is so much here to admire, so many features in which to delight. Yet I wonder whether all this talk of the Cathedral’s perfection risks advancing the idea that the Cathedral only belongs to those who are found worthy of it, who match her perfection? I am concerned that we nurture in our minds images of the Cathedral and of the type of person who belongs to the Cathedral that is far too idealized and shielded from the harsh light of reality. And this distortion may at times make us feel far from this Cathedral community ourselves; or even worse, the aura of our self-importance might push others out.

We likely have in our minds a certain standard of what a Cathedral should be; and while holding a high standard in music, liturgy, faith formation, and ministry is good, the same standard simply cannot be applied to people, either with respect to ourselves or anyone else. Neither this Cathedral nor any parish is for the perfect. If it were, there would never be anyone inside, save the Lord alone. One bishop coming to a new diocese once told his people not to expect perfection of him, for if he were perfect, they could sell the rectory because he’d be living in the tabernacle.

In all honesty, as much as this Cathedral is wonderful in countless ways, it is far from perfect itself. There are cracks in the limestone, issues with the foundation, chips in the marble here, blemishes on the wood there, paint peeling all around, to say nothing of the perennial problems with the sound system. So, what I would like to say is that this Cathedral is for people who are just like it: those who could use a firmer foundation, who could benefit from stronger supports, who need some touch-ups as well as some larger renovations, and who, thinking of the Vision of Hope Campaign, don’t have all the lights on upstairs.

So, to answer to my initial question — who is this Cathedral for? — let’s turn to the Gospel. Here we encounter Zacchaeus. The liturgy traditionally reads this Gospel when observing the dedication of a church for a reason: Zacchaeus is a figure of the Church herself. Zacchaeus is a man small in stature but large in self-importance. He is a tax collector, making his excess wealth through extorting his own. Yet despite his greed and his avarice, this small, ugly man has one great, beautiful desire: to see Jesus. And this desire is all he needs to have the pivotal encounter with the Lord that gives his life a new horizon and a decisive direction. Christ calls to him in the tree, “Zacchaeus, come down quickly, for today I must stay at your house.” And with that, salvation came to that house, the house of Zacchaeus, the chief tax collector of Jericho. 

This Cathedral is for the Zacchaeus in us all. All those who have even the smallest ounce of faith, who just want to catch a glimpse of Jesus are those who should be able to call this Cathedral home. Nowhere in the Gospels is being a perfect person, having everything figured out, and wanting nothing else a condition of being Jesus’ disciple. On the contrary, it is those who think they are perfect who go away from the Lord sad preferring their self-important world to the path of true perfection Jesus offers them. And by extension, the only people to whom this Cathedral cannot belong are those who have convinced themselves they do not need him. But anyone who dares to climb the sycamore, that is, anyone who makes even the smallest movement toward Christ, is exactly the person who is meant to be here. So, the Cathedral is supposed to be the sycamore tree in which imperfect people climb to catch a glimpse of Jesus; and when he finds us here, he announces to us that today, salvation has come to us, for it is here that we meet Christ.  

Yet we should not expect to climb into this tree and leave unchanged. The encounter with Christ that takes place in these walls, most especially in the Mass and in the sacraments, brings salvation, and salvation cannot fail to have an effect on imperfect people who are open to grace. Here, the blemishes and the wounds with which we come are washed over and healed by the Blood of Christ. Here, our sins are taken away and grace is given, so that though we come as Zacchaeus the miserable sinner we leave as Zacchaeus the joyful disciple. All this does not happen just once but should repeat itself every time we pass through these doors: coming in need of mercy and leaving announcing to the world that we have found it.

A cathedral’s beauty is not found chiefly in its artistry but in the holiness of those gathered within it. This Cathedral is not perfect, nor are we. But God is at work here, changing imperfect people, and with us and in us changing his Church universal, bit by bit, into the perfect people and the perfect Church that, even now, is coming down out of heaven from God. On this earth, we will always have to deal with the imperfections of our Cathedral, of our Church, and of our souls; but we are not without the promise of perfection in the life to come and the assistance the Lord offers us by his grace to get us there.

Perhaps, just perhaps, the most compelling way to invite someone to the Cathedral of Mary Our Queen is not to talk about how perfect it is. Talk instead about how imperfect you are — how imperfect we all are — and how, in this holy place, Christ visits us in our imperfection and raises us up to new life in him, who lives and reigns with God the Father in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God for ever and ever. Amen.

Homily preached November 11/12, 2023 at the Cathedral of Mary Our Queen.