Monday after Epiphany

Lectionary: 212

We receive from him whatever we ask,
because we keep his commandments and do what pleases him.
And his commandment is this:
we should believe in the name of his Son, Jesus Christ,
and love one another just as he commanded us.

 B en Wilson, in his Metropolis: A History of the City, Humankind's Greatest Invention, explains part of the city's charm as a great alternative to the confinement of rural life. Out there in the sticks, a family amid neighboring families can keep close track of every member. They know who you're talking to, and what you're talking about. And "Don't say nothing about nobody because everybody is related." There is no room for controversy and little tolerance for disagreement. Gossip keeps a rein on errant behaviors. And given the pressure of basic survival, there is little time or energy for leisure activities, artistic expression, and experimental play. 

Because it promotes specialization and trade of goods and services, the city offers enormous variety, leisure, and, what's more appealing to many, anonymity. City folk can choose their friends and limit their contact with their own family. They might escape the controls of their families altogether. They can acquire different friends, learn different skills, speak different languages, and practice different religious beliefs. Some might even maintain several different lifestyles, isolated from one another. Charlie Parker, the great jazz musician, was also a drug addict, dealer, and devoted family man; and no one knew it until he crashed and died. 

Christianity flourished in the cities of the Roman empire, perhaps because cities offered opportunities for individuals to leave their Jewish or gentile families and friends and join a secretive church with its own religious practices, beliefs, and customs. They did not require their faithful to dress alike or abstain from some foods. As they repented of their past lives and practiced new customs they supported one another against the ostracism, shunning, shaming, and violent persecution of their former families, friends, and acquaintances. 

What has that to do with us, twenty centuries later? The "city" is no longer confined to certain areas. The "city" sends its lifestyles via paved roads and automobiles, electricity, water mains, sewers, telephone, and the Internet to every mansion, chalet, shack, and hovel; and the formerly isolated country folk are mostly glad of the opportunity. Those who dream of escaping to the more scenic countryside take their urban conveniences with them. 

The Church, however, now finds itself more comfortable in small towns where several Christian denominations, including Catholic, know one another, collaborate, and agree to disagree on formerly important things like doctrine. Large cities with their anonymity, diversity, equality, and inclusiveness feel threatening and alien to rural congregations. 

But the Catholic Church with its passionate love for the Blessed Sacrament still offers its greatest treasure to unmoored urban individuals. Their values, associations, and friendships can be grounded not in their peculiar preferences or opinions but in that mysterious response of the heart which says, "Where could we go? You have the words of eternal life!" 

Saint Mark describes the disciples as following helplessly behind the Lord on their way to Jerusalem. They seem to have no idea why they must go there or what must happen upon their arrival. 

They were on the way, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus went ahead of them. They were amazed, and those who followed were afraid. (Mark 10:32)

As we announce the Gospel to faceless, anonymous citizens, the Lord himself gathers us into the Blessed Sacrament where we witness his passion, death, and resurrection; where we can tell friends, neighbors, and strangers, "We have found the Messiah."