Just Which Boat Are We In?

A Franciscan priest visited our church this year to conduct the annual retreat. I enjoy attending these presentations to hear an inspiring message or pick up a new perspective I'll find useful as I try to behave better.

On the first day, he brought home to us the appalling decline in Mass attendance since the year 2000* and the various reasons for it, starting with the Industrial Revolution and ending with the COVID upheaval. He also stressed the enormous pull of the internet and social media and its drain on people's attention and time. He said that these days people have "no firm, strong, points of reference" and likened today's society to the early days of Christianity, when people held widely different [incompatible] values.

Nevertheless, Father said, the small fishing boat that might represent Christianity in those early years grew and grew into the worldwide phenomenon of the Catholic Church. And that boat grew by attracting people to it with kindness, he said--"And they'll know we are Christians by our love," as the song says.

But today Father sees the Church not as an ocean liner but as a lifeboat on a churning, secular sea. 

(I have heard this vision before, but usually describing a faithful remnant of Catholics who hold fast to time-honored teachings of the Church and the words of our Lord in a time of dilution of doctrine.) 

Father called upon us now to evangelize and to start in "the only place possible: our humanity, the mystery of you and me." He discouraged us from relying on "Argument from authority (Bible, Church, or Natural Law)" and from drawing on "apologetics."

Say what? Now, I am all for a gentle and loving approach. Christ himself commanded us to show kindness, forgiveness, and true charity toward others, especially those we hope to share the Good News with at some point. And every Catholic with an ounce of sense knows that you must not bludgeon someone outside the faith with endless quotes from the Good Book or the catechism, or with complex doctrine and rationale. But the Bible, Church teaching, and a recognition of Natural Law--how God designed things to work on this planet--form the backbone of Christianity. 

Father urged us to win over others simply through love and a sincere interest in getting to know them. These are always the prerequisites, of course. But a huge part of the attraction of  Catholicism is its logic and sense of order. Converts embrace its ability to explain how things really work and what it takes for humans to get through this difficult life and enter into the glories of Heaven afterward. 

And people are actually joining, or returning to, the Catholic Church in increasing numbers. In early 2026, across the U.S., a surprising crowd of catechists completed their Christian education and joyfully joined the Catholic Church on Easter. 

The fact is, the Catholic Church, despite its problems, was never intended to be a lifeboat. It is more like an aircraft carrier--stable, capable, able to sail on through fierce storms and wars, to refuel those who land on our deck. We are the Church Militant, charged with combating the evil that swirls through this world. We fight it in ways big and very small, including those beautiful acts of kindness that Father was talking about. We spread the Gospel where we can, share Truth with those who will listen. 

So even if most of us do our good works on a small, personal scale, let us remember that we are part of a huge and glorious crew that includes even the angels and saints in heaven! And the wise soldier will keep handy the most powerful weapon of all, Our Lady's Holy Rosary. God bless!   

 ______

*In fact, Catholic Mass attendance in the United States has fallen steadily since at least the 1920s. 

Lifeboat image: Last lifeboat of Titanic survivors, courtesy of alamy.com
Aircraft carrier photo courtesy of Bing Images. 

Come One or Come All

 A few days ago I stopped into my church's Adoration Chapel to spend a quiet hour with Christ, displayed in the consecrated Host on the altar. And I planned to say my rosary there and reflect on each rich mystery as I like to do. 

To my surprise, I found the chapel full of people, some kneeling and some seated, praying together the Joyful Mysteries. I slipped into a spot in a far pew as quietly as possible and joined in. The devout group finished the rosary and proceeded to recite a number of prayers and a chaplet before adjourning. 

Scripture extols the benefits of raising our voices to God in the company of others. So why would I feel somewhat ill at ease with these good people moving through the rosary's prayers in unison? I thought about it. 

I realized that, when I pray the rosary alone in my room, it goes slowly as I reflect on each mystery. I imagine Mary and Joseph's distress when they realized that their beloved Son was in fact not with their group journeying back to Nazareth. I ponder how Mary could have borne the sight of her completely good Jesus being driven up the hill to Calvary like a criminal, bleeding, with a rough cross on his torn shoulder. And I imagine how cold and uncomfortable the stable must have been on the night the Blessed Mother gave birth to her divine Son.

We each have our own way of saying the rosary, whether in company or alone. If you are fortified in the presence of others sending up prayers together, that is marvelous. If you prefer to retreat, hermit style, into a quiet place to move through the Hail Mary's and Our Father's at your own pace, so be it. Sometimes, in my lingering way, I do not reach the end of my rosary before I am called away. But I simply pick it up again later in the day and finish.

Either way, we know that, as Blessed Fulton J. Sheen said, "The power of the rosary is beyond description."