by JasonI once read an interesting analogy...imagine we could each choose to adopt one mascot to describe our self - personality, desires, looks, preferences, everything. However, we only have 2 choices: A purple hat-wearing, black and white striped camel that wears leather boots and only eats straw, OR a toupee-wearing orange kangaroo wearing a black tuxedo shirt and a blue tie. So, go ahead - choose! Well, it doesn't really matter if you like purple hats or not, as long as you love striped camels of any color - you're going to choose the camel, right? And lets say you really don't like wearing shoes of any kind - then I guess you'll just have to pick the orange kangaroo. But, if you don't like wearing anything on your head, well, then, I guess you'd better pick the better of two evils - toupees or purple hats! Eventually, you'll learn to like kangaroos, or purple hats, or toupees, as well as anything orange or striped or leather, and before you know it, you'll downright despise anything...or anyone...associated with *that other* mascot. This, my friends, is the behavior of tribalism. When you become associated with something on one side or another, you begin to only listen to your side, which constantly tries to make itself bigger and better in the eyes of itself and in doing so, continues to find ways to differentiate and demonize the other. The psychological brainwashing continues until you really don't care whether you like hats at all, as long as everyone else knows that you are a purple hat-wearing, black and white striped camel that wears leather boots, and if anyone even suggests that wearing hats is out of style, well, then, they are obviously part of that toupee-wearing orange kangaroo tribe wearing black tuxedo shirts with blue ties! And THEY are the REAL kind of evil, amiright? So many of the actions which could resolve suffering and wrongs in this country could easily be agreed upon if we just didn't possess an insane desire to be a part of an axis of power. But this is a part of our human nature, and so we must turn it for the greater good. The danger is that in gravitating to that bigger tribe, we stop thinking as individuals, but instead will defer to the decisions of the greater tribe. We succumb to tribalism. It is not long before "the faith claims and institutions of one's political party generally trump those of one's religion" (Camosy). But, if we give up our own individual needs for attention, power, or money, and if we instead desire to gravitate towards the community of Jesus Christ first and foremost, then we can see how our participation is never for our own glory or even for our own community's glory, but for the building up of the Kingdom which even includes God's children who may not be a part of our community in some way or another. I was once a die-hard political fan boy, so entrenched that I thought there was nothing my side said that I wouldn't agree with. But then I read a very well written argument that helped me to see that Jesus didn't fit into any side. Not only did He not fit, but He didn't even care to enter into the political power debate between Romans and Jewish leaders. Our Church is the same - if we ascribe to the belief that any worldly power completely represents the comprehensive teachings and tradition of the Body of Christ, without question, then we are probably falling into a trap of idolatry. In fact, it is even dangerous to say that one political side or the other is 'closer' to Church teachings without allowing discrimination of each issue independently. Once I freed myself from bondage to this kind of tribalism and political fighting, the world looked completely different. I began to see the good and wrongs that cut through every human heart, not between groups of people. But, more importantly, I began to think unencumbered by worldly powers which allowed my heart to be led by the Holy Spirit. And this, my friends, is true freedom!
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by JasonOne of the hardest stories that we often tell about our time in rural Costa Rica was of the local church community and how it struggled to live by many of the Catholic customs and rules that we take for granted in our home parishes. The people who had it the hardest were the Nicaraguan Catholics, most of whom had fled various difficult circumstances, left behind everything, and migrated illegally to our little community. Because they fled without thinking about their baptismal certificates (I mean, that would not exactly be the first thing on my mind), they were very restricted in how they could integrate into the Costa Rican community. Sacraments were not accessible, for example, since everything hinged on a baptismal certificate. To add to this, most of them felt unwelcomed inside the physical church building, and so they would travel, sometimes walking several miles, only to stand outside the latticed walls and listen in. To put it lightly, there was an unwritten but palpable wall that stood between them and Jesus. Some were told that they could receive the Eucharist again if they stopped living with their partner - except that they had lived together for decades as spouses because of the limitations on the sacrament of marriage. Also, women would have to find a job, which was virtually impossible, or starve. Others were told they could be baptized if they attended classes - which were held once a week, an hour by car up the dirt road at the parish center. Again, since most worked 6 days a week, they would have had to basically quit their jobs to do this. It was our first glimpse into real sacramental poverty outside of the U.S. While we know that there are similar cases of parish segregation here, it is rare to find such extremes in limitations on receiving sacraments. I guess this is why we didn’t really get too upset when churches were closed during the shelter-in-place orders across our country. We kind of saw it as a way to live in solidarity with our Catholic brethren in most of the undeveloped or underdeveloped world. To live in longing for Jesus in the physical Eucharist is a reminder of how much He means to us. It also helped us to see God in many of the other ways that He can show Himself and His Glory to our human eyes. As time goes on during this pandemic, we really didn’t know when we’d be able to set foot in a church building again. My wife, who suffers from a suppressed immune system and has a history of chronic and recurrent pneumonia, is solidly in the ‘at-risk’ population, and so we continue to follow guidance and shelter in place, even after the country has opened and Masses have begun in public forms again. At one time, we talked about attending weekday Mass, or maybe even a drive-in Mass held at a nearby parish. But, we are often discouraged by discussions which are less than convincing that our fellow parishioners are as concerned about obeying official guidance - even flaunting civil disobedience in some circles. When I do walk to church wearing a mask, I feel the same discriminating stares as the time when Margarita walked past the latticed wall and sat by us during Mass. Religious freedom is being mistaken for personal freedom in our communities, at the cost of inclusion and protection of those who are at-risk. Just as the Nicaraguan Catholics are given supposedly ‘simple’ solutions to their sacramental poverty, we have been told to simply trust in God, that a few vocal neighbors are probably not representing the hearts of our community, and that the sacraments are more important than health. These are easy things to say, and honestly, we would probably have said a few of these things if it were not for the medically induced trauma that our family has endured over the past year and a half. The one thing that we’ve learned about solidarity is that it is the silver bullet against judgement. Excuses aside, we now live very much in solidarity with our Central American brothers and sisters who sacrifice so much only to have a very real barrier, stronger than bricks, placed between them and the Holy Eucharist - a barrier in the form of social excommunication. Like the illegal immigrants outside those walls, we look to our shepherds to guide us. Bishop Mark Seitz and Cardinal Blase Cupich have been encouraging positive witnesses for us, letting us know that we are loved in our absence, publicly wearing masks, and often encouraging such behavior. But, we also see some shepherds and leaders encouraging divisive behavior, while many are not going out of their way to model care for those on the margins. It is a selfish structure that has built itself around the physical presence of Jesus, suffocating our Church so that it cannot breathe and exhale the Love of God. Like the Samaritan woman who was prohibited from worshiping God according to local customs, Jesus seeks us outside of the crowds, and so we worship him in Spirit and Truth (John 4:23). In our poverty, we continue on, just as so many in our world hope to see God provide for their needs. God has allowed our solidarity to become minor but very real suffering, a grace that connects and joins us with our brothers and sisters who, like us, look forward to the day when He welcomes us again.
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On a MissionTwo passionate parents and their four children are excited to bring His Word to everyone in need while living a life of Gospel poverty as missionaries. They invite you to join them on a journey to encounter our global neighbors that Jesus commands us to love through works of charity and service. Archives
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