Forty years ago, in the churn of the wake of Vatican II, theologian Avery Dulles, later a Cardinal, published Models of the Church, a book considering the various aspects and emphases of the Church’s identity. The ones he proposed and explored were, (1) Institution, (2) Mystical Communion, (3) Sacrament, (4) Herald, and (5) Servant. More recently, some commentators and Pope Francis himself have referred to the Church as “a field hospital,” which was not one of Cardinal Dulles’ models, but has garnered some enthusiasm.
That strikes me as dramatic, maybe a bit too much so, especially compared to what fills my day. Heaven knows we have our crises around here, and more often than you’d think people admit that they’re a “total wreck.” But still, the pleas of the wounded; bleeding, dying, and triage are not what I usually run into in this ecclesial outpost. Besides, a “field hospital” presumes the availability of a fully equipped, permanent medical center, to which we can send more serious patients (who have a good chance of survival) once we have assessed their needs and given them basic care. I can’t say that’s available! Besides, we have been here at Four Corners for seventy years; that’s a bit much to expect of a tent!
Reflecting on this the other day, as I am wont to do, I thought there might be other ways to describe your parish church. Located handily by the intersection of two major arteries, and just off the Beltway, our operation might perhaps be understood as something resembling a “convenience store.”
Just look at our customer base: we have our regulars, both from the local neighborhood and those who pass us on their way from home to work; we get a regular flow of one-time visitors; and no shortage of folks who are “just passing through.”
And look at the management, and staff. Somewhere in between “family owned and operated” and a franchise of a global operation, the “owner-operator” is highly invested, almost always on the property; sleeping “above the store,” as it were. The staff is not specialized, but must be functional in the full range of activities, from cleaning and maintenance to customer relations, and security. Whoever is on duty often winds up doing two or more wildly different things at the same time.
You might not realize this, but the diocesan clergy are the lowest form of the Church’s vocational hierarchy; the jacks-of-all-trades, the ones who aren’t specialized, flashy or focused, nor highly trained. Our principal characteristic is that we are local– attached and assigned to a place, and expected to adapt to and meet whatever needs and customs the people of that place have. See, we are the guys behind the counter at the corner “store.” What’ll it be today?
We try to keep the place clean and well lit. Our stock is predictable; in fact, we offer the exact same products you’ll find at any of our outlets across the country and around the world. We have an array of goods and services you may need; basic medicines, stuff for your home, and even items for minor repairs. There’s fuel if you need it, and of course, most obviously: food for the journey.
While we do lock the doors when it gets dark, we’re usually around if you need us, pretty much 24/7. The light is on for you! We’re here to provide what you need for daily life, and the journey you’re making. It’s clearly more than 7Eleven; but then again, Oh thank heaven!
Monsignor Smith
