Thoughts
I'm sitting in my office, just browsing through the journal First Things--just got here in the mail and I love to read it. Will have more time for reading later, but read a stunning article I wanted to share with you by Emily Stimpson, a writer from Ohio.
The article is called "Requiem for a Parish," and it has to do with the imminent closing of St. Stanislas Catholic Church in Ohio. St. Stanislas used to be a thriving parish serving the substantial Polish community in town and now is attended by only a couple dozen older folks on any Sunday morning. The story is the same everywhere: children grew up, moved away to other parishes and greener pastures elsewhere, and now a few parents keep it together.
At St. Stanislas, some young folks from the nearby Catholic university come on a Sunday morning. They could be at the chapel at school, with its lively blend of contemporary and ancient elements. But they choose to come to St. Stanislas, because as Stimpson so elegantly says it:
"Because they know what was is passing away. And they want to hold on to it for just a little bit longer. Not because they reject the new. Rather, they hold on because, while they still can, they want to understand what was best and most beautiful in the last age--the age where for a few glorious decades churches like St. Stanislas embodied the Catholic faith in America.
They know the practice of the faith was no more perfect then than it is now...But, for all those problems, it was a beautiful chapter in the life of the Church, filled with simple faith, devotion, and sacrifice. There were many babies and many nuns, many people willing to give for the Christ they adored. There were men and women who saw in their little humble parish a glimpse of heaven...It was a beautiful dream while it lasted, and in the hearts of those who learned from the heart of the dream--the sacrifice of the faithful and the poetry of a parish--will linger still."
May this word make us aware, especially we Baptists who toss history aside so casually. May it remind us that there is something beautiful and honorable about the way the faith once delivered has been lived out throughout the last two thousand years. And may we remember that there are those coming after us, and may they find in us those who lived a "beautiful dream" of our own.
The article is called "Requiem for a Parish," and it has to do with the imminent closing of St. Stanislas Catholic Church in Ohio. St. Stanislas used to be a thriving parish serving the substantial Polish community in town and now is attended by only a couple dozen older folks on any Sunday morning. The story is the same everywhere: children grew up, moved away to other parishes and greener pastures elsewhere, and now a few parents keep it together.
At St. Stanislas, some young folks from the nearby Catholic university come on a Sunday morning. They could be at the chapel at school, with its lively blend of contemporary and ancient elements. But they choose to come to St. Stanislas, because as Stimpson so elegantly says it:
"Because they know what was is passing away. And they want to hold on to it for just a little bit longer. Not because they reject the new. Rather, they hold on because, while they still can, they want to understand what was best and most beautiful in the last age--the age where for a few glorious decades churches like St. Stanislas embodied the Catholic faith in America.
They know the practice of the faith was no more perfect then than it is now...But, for all those problems, it was a beautiful chapter in the life of the Church, filled with simple faith, devotion, and sacrifice. There were many babies and many nuns, many people willing to give for the Christ they adored. There were men and women who saw in their little humble parish a glimpse of heaven...It was a beautiful dream while it lasted, and in the hearts of those who learned from the heart of the dream--the sacrifice of the faithful and the poetry of a parish--will linger still."
May this word make us aware, especially we Baptists who toss history aside so casually. May it remind us that there is something beautiful and honorable about the way the faith once delivered has been lived out throughout the last two thousand years. And may we remember that there are those coming after us, and may they find in us those who lived a "beautiful dream" of our own.
posted by Rev. Michael Jordan at 1:06 PM
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