A Time to Replant and Rebuild

This past summer, I often found myself thinking of two great prophets. One is the Old Testament prophet Jeremiah, and the other is a modern-day prophet, the pope of my childhood: Saint John Paul II (pope from 1978-2005).

I am definitely one of those who call him John Paul the Great, and I believe that he had prophetic insight and an uncanny ability to read the signs of the times. One of his deepest prophetic convictions was that we are now entering a “new springtime of evangelization” in the Church as we go forth boldly into the Third Millennium. He urged us with the words of Jesus to “put out into the deep waters” for a great catch. With Jesus, he often exhorted us: “Be not afraid!”

I remember twenty years ago when some of us would ask ourselves, “Why does he keep saying that? What is there to be so afraid of?” Today I can say with truth that these are sad and scary times to be a close follower of Jesus. AND they are times of enormous hope, great promise, and signs of new life. We can weep and lament the great ruin and destruction of much that is fair and beautiful AND notice the new growth and new life that is springing up.

The prophet Jeremiah captures the paradox perfectly, by appealing to seasons of the year. I had an “aha!” moment this summer while reading him. So much has changed in Church life, and it often leaves her members feeling disoriented, confused, or angry – even when their parishes make good and healthy changes. Part of the challenge is that the seasons have changed – and that means changing how we approach our labor in the Lord’s vineyard. With occasional exceptions, we in the Church today are not living the fall, in a time of fruitfulness and harvesting. We are passing through a harsh winter and beginning a new springtime.

The destruction and decimation has been going on for some time – especially for those of us in Catholic institutions. Our programs are often geared at children (in schools and in CCD programs), but the parents themselves – if they come to church at all – are often part of a second or third generation of Catholics who did not learn how to have a personal relationship with Jesus and who did not learn the basics of their faith. For at least fifty years now, when teens receive their Confirmation, they leave. We used to tell ourselves lies that they would come back eventually – when it was time to get married or to have their children baptized. A small percentage of them do; the great majority never return. Many of them specifically identify themselves as “ex-Catholics” or even “atheists.” Church marriages are down – way down. I could go on and on.

Much has been lost. God’s Temple and God’s vineyard are lying in ruins. There is cause for lamenting here.

When bad things happen, our human tendency is to avoid grieving – it’s so painful and hard. We typically pass through various stages as we grieve – denial, anger, blaming, bargaining, depression, and (hopefully) eventual acceptance. If we do not somehow express our grief and anguish, our anger and bitterness, we will not come to true acceptance. Presently, we are living in a toxic culture that does not know how to grieve in a healthy way. Most anywhere we turn, we are invited to numb our pain with addictive behaviors or to funnel our rage into political or ecclesial divisiveness.

By contrast, the prophet Jeremiah knew how to lament, how to express sorrow and anguish to God. So much did he turn to God and lament that there is an entire book of the Bible entitled “Lamentations,” traditionally attributed to him.

There was much to lament. The Babylonians had invaded Jerusalem, destroyed God’s Temple, and taken most of the people into captivity. They were left with a mere remnant – just as the prophet Isaiah had foretold.

Weeping over ruins of once great cultures, once great nations, once great churches, and once great institutions is a holy and healing exercise.

I think the crumbling and ruin has been especially hard for longtime Catholics. With so many things changing or collapsing around them, they desire that their own parishes be the one hub of stability, the one constant in their life. But we can’t do that – not if we care about saving souls!

Most of our American Catholic institutions were built up in a season of summer and autumn. Our immigrant forefathers had a tenacious Faith and didn’t hesitate to sacrifice everything to build up these institutions. They were serious about prayer and serious about discipleship. Their children learned the faith from their parents and practiced it in the home. There was a great boom in the number of priests and religious sisters.

The programs set up in our parishes were all about harvesting the fruits from healthy vines that were already there. The presumption was that all the members were unquestionably committed to Jesus and to his Church. As long as most of them were, parishes were booming.

That was a very, very long time ago. The destruction has been enormous. Over half of those vines are now dead. Only a remnant remains.

I remember as a seminarian hearing our bishop (now the world-famous Cardinal Burke) express with the Psalmist: “Foundations once destroyed, what can the just do?” (Psalm 11:3). I remember as a young priest amidst teens in the high school, feeling the sad truth of those words and taking them to prayer. I remember God speaking clearly in my heart a hope-filled answer: REBUILD THEM. I received great peace and much motivation from those God-given words. I still do.

We will find more strength to rebuild if we allow ourselves time to lament. Lamenting is a lost art. When we truly express our grief, God comforts us. We find ourselves having new strength and new resolve. The writings of Jeremiah do not end in despair or anger, but in renewed hope, with many promises of replanting and rebuilding. A new springtime.

We are not in a season of summer and autumn anymore. We are living amidst a harsh winter that is transitioning into spring. What is more, the majority of the vines in our vineyard been ruined and destroyed.

Many of us need to do much lamenting and much grieving. We have more pain in our hearts than we care to admit. God wants to hear our cries. He wants to comfort us.

Then, when we are ready, he will show us what replanting and rebuilding look like. Many of the things that have passed away will never return again – not in the same way at least – and that is worth the shedding of tears. Meanwhile, the new growth is already there in our midst. Amazingly, from the very ruins, new vines are appearing. They are very vulnerable at this stage and need much nurturing and caring. But they are beautiful!

If we would like to see those new vines grow and bear fruit, we need to learn how to live in the seasons of winter and spring. Our parishes need to step back from the “same old” way of doing things and ask what it means to replant and rebuild. Instead of spending most of our time, money, and human resources on the vines that clearly are bearing no fruit, we need to recognize new and divine growth when we see it (sometimes it shows up in surprising places!). We can then focus our energy and attention there. New vines are fragile and need much protecting, much nurturing, and much gentle encouragement.

It may take many years to see the new fruitfulness – God alone knows. Sometimes we sow and others reap. But we can take hope in the fact that Scripture often promises otherwise. We are promised that the sowers will be overtaken by the harvesters (Amos 9:13), and that those who sow in tears will reap with joy (Psalm 126:6).

3 Replies to “A Time to Replant and Rebuild”

  1. Fr. Derek, excellent insights and moving imagery. It’s hard for me to go through the grieving part of the process; I suppose that it hits me in moments. I think you are right that knowing we are in very early springtime helps us have a better sense of what counts right now. God bless you and happy planting!

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