Time to be a Sheep

It's that time of year again; the time I get particularly reflective. Yep, the end of one liturgical year and the beginning of another. This past Sunday, Catholics celebrated the Feast of Christ, King of the Universe, sending out another Church year with resounding praise. Although many people stuck to their usual Thanksgiving weekend traditions, already decking their homes with Christmas trees and garland, we actually haven't even hit Advent yet. I wonder whether those poor trees will last through the *real* Christmas season, but more than that, I wonder if those people gave themselves the mental time and space to reflect on this past year and prepare for the oncoming one. Abiding by the flow of liturgical seasons can bear many fruits, if we give ourselves the time to pause and listen. For example, realizing I might be a goat and not a sheep on Judgment Day. 

The emphasis of Sunday's gospel was corporal acts of mercy - 'I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me’ (Matthew 25:36-40). These charitable people are the sheep. Alas, Jesus then turns to the goats, those who did none of the above, and He banishes them from His sight.

I have been thinking about my corporal acts a great deal lately - or rather, my lack thereof. I have been stirring to be closer to God, wondering what that means. I proposed my quandary to a friend, whose response was simple - "Be his hands in the world. Do something for others." No, I said, that can't be it. I don't like nursing homes, and I'm not comfortable in hospitals, and I don't feel safe approaching strangers on the street. That just can't be what this feeling means. I'm not drawn to that kind of work. That's good for you, not for me. You're extraverted. It probably means I need to find my husband and settle in my vocation. Or be a nun. Or something other grand thing.

So. Many. Excuses.

But I kept thinking about it, and then this Sunday felt like a kick in the pants, as if God Himself was saying do something, Mary. Suddenly, I knew my friend - and God - were right, but more than that, I knew it was truly time, and not just because I am afraid of being a banished goat.

I have been using my last several Christ the Kings and Advents and overall liturgical years quite fruitfully (which I say with all humility. Really.) Two years ago, I focused on my relationship with God, to love and serve and know Him with all my heart and soul and mind. I established habits of daily mass and prayer which I still hold today. This past year, I knew I needed to take the relationship further, and be a part of my Church community. It took me a while, but I finally know my priests, know some parishioners, joined a Bible study, and volunteer. I was surprised how much joy this involvement brought me, how actually dissatisfied I was to be an anonymous church-goer, with no one to smile at and talk to after mass. Now, I have people who care about me, and wave to me, and accept me into their fold. Yet, there is still more growth to be had and more gifts to be given.

I have built my foundation; I have built my house; now I must open my house to others. It's a natural progression, really; Biblical, even. Jesus draws in the apostles; he establishes them as a community; and then he sends them out. He doesn't meet Peter and send him miracle-working all alone without building a relationship with him first. Rather, Peter comes to acknowledge Jesus as the Messiah, is supported in that belief by his fellow apostles and the grace of God, and then is empowered by the Holy Spirit to go forth and share it. True faith, hope, and charity take time and, given the evidence, I would argue follow a natural progression of development.

Without intentionally celebrating Christ the King, I might not have acknowledged that my friend was right; that the stirrings in my heart are a call to my next step in faith formation. Beforehand, I had been wondering what would be my goal this new liturgical year. Now, I know. It may not happen tomorrow, or even next month. But, with God - and you -- and Scarlett O'Hara -- - as my witness, I will make a concerted effort this year to help others. Which is to say, I will do so using my unique gifts and talents. Outreach doesn't have to be a nursing home or a homeless shelter. What did God design me to do? This is what I hope to find out.

I'm ready for the next liturgical year. I'm ready to act on the stirrings in my heart.  And I'm relieved that doesn't mean finding a husband. Yet.