"The creche is gone and all these lilies are here! It's a miracle!"
-The Chreasters' mystical experience, according to one of my professors.
A few years ago at Easter, I found myself particularly annoyed with the Chreaster (Christmas and Easter) Catholics. Writing that down makes me realize anew how horrible that is, but it's true. I'm not perfect.
My reaction to them was not unlike the semi-annual phenomenon that would take place in undergrad during finals week when all of the study spaces would be packed with people. Oh, *now* you feel like studying. How nice for you. Where were you all semester? And all those cozy nooks and crannies that I had called my own were filled with strangers, who—I don't know—had decided to stop fooling around or partying or whatever and get serious about their studies or something. Of course this was not true of everyone, but these were the thoughts in my stressed out, annoyed, sleep-deprived mind.
And I have sometimes experienced the same thing at Christmas and Easter. I have to come to Church early just to get a seat? Who are all these strangers? Is someone sitting in MY pew? Ugh...
Again, I'm not perfect.
I became self-conscious about my cynicism fairly early on and made a deliberate choice to be charitable. But even when I tried to do that, it was very disingenuous. Aw, that person keeps using the responses from the old translation; that's cute. It's so "great" that you're here!
And so, I prayed the only prayer that I could think of, which was "Lord, help me to see these people as you see them." And how does God see the person who hasn't been to Church in months, or years? As the prodigal. As the lost sheep. As the missing coin. With the unharnessed, unconditional joy of a child.
And who am I? The older brother, sulking outside because of some hurt sense of entitlement. The Levite, keeping a safe distance from the uncleanness. The rich young man, confused as to why my strict adherence to the law hasn't merited me eternal life.
I think of the parable of the workers in the vineyard.1 The workers come at various points in the day (at sunrise, the 3rd hour, 6th hour, 9th hour, and 11th hour) and work until sunset. Those who worked the shortest amount of time get paid first and get the full day's wage. The other workers are excited because they think this means they'll get even more than a full day's wage, but are upset when they get the exact same pay as those who worked the least. (Let me tell you, if you want to get a room of high schoolers worked up about the Bible, use this passage. They'll be mad.)
The Landowner in the parable has a wonderfully pointed response: "Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?"
And it's then that I realize YES! OF COURSE I AM ENVIOUS! Why the hell do I even bother if You're so generous??
I need to be reminded often that we're not Pelagians. No matter what I do, I cannot—by definition—earn grace. It's freely given. And it's just as freely given to me as the person who hasn't been to Church in months. The saving mystery of Christ our Passover slain for us, and His triumphant victory over death is proclaimed to all people of every nations, and not just those of us who have kept the pews warm on Sundays.
As John Chrysostom reminds us, “If any have tarried even until the eleventh hour, let him, also, be not alarmed at his tardiness; for the Lord, who is jealous of his honor, will accept the last even as the first; he gives rest unto him who comes at the eleventh hour, even as unto him who has wrought from the first hour.”2
Now, of course, none of this means that we shouldn't go to Church, or follow the law, or perform acts of charity, assuming that hey! God will give us a big party anyway, as long as we repent at the last minute. Grace is, as I said before, freely given. But it must be accepted. Grace is not imposed upon us against our will. We accept the gift of grace in our observance of the law, in our reception of the Sacraments, in our loving interactions with others. In so doing, I am properly disposed for the grace to take effect in my life. It's not pointless. It is efficacious.
But as soon as I start to tally up my works subconsciously, as soon as I check boxes, as soon as I find myself annoyed at the people at Church who haven't "earned" their spot there...That is when I have effectively put God, and His mercy, into a little box to fit my small-minded definition of what it ought to be. And thank God (literally) that His mercy is not that limited, because if it were, we'd all be screwed.
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