Baxter was an orphan when we first met. I never knew his parents. At the rescue shelter where I discovered him, he was among many orphaned kittens, abandoned for one reason or another. An orphan of any species breaks our hearts. They are so helpless and defenseless in facing the world. They crave to belong and bond with a family. When I first met Baxter he clung to me and wouldn’t release his grip. He crawled up my leg and nestled in my arm, and there was no separating us from that point. Baxter needed a home, and I needed to give him a home in my life.
Family life is high on the agenda of our Church these days. The first part of the synod on the family closed in Rome last October, and a working paper is now available for people to reflect upon and comment about how we best address the needs of families today. There are many points of view about this topic and the issues surrounding it. We have a tradition of faith that speaks to marriage and family life, painting a picture of life-long fidelity between a man and a woman creating an environment where the new life of children can flourish because it is embedded in their love. This is the ideal we all wish for and strive to attain. It gives us a direction to aim for and principles by which to live. It steadies us when we are not sure what to do, and it sets a foundation upon which we can rely when we have nowhere to turn. We don’t want to lose these roots that our faith provides.
However, sometimes our real lives cannot embody this ideal picture completely. In our struggles to love each other, we find ourselves limited and fragile. We are limited by our physical and psychological make-up, by what other people decide who were once committed to us, by economic circumstances and what it takes to support us. We can try to do the right and virtuous thing, but sometimes we have no control over the tragedies that break up our lives. Facing these facts, we feel like orphans, lost between how we want our families to be and what, in fact, they are. Where do we turn?
Jesus welcomed widows and orphans. They were among the most vulnerable members of society in His day. The prophets before Him proclaimed that God’s judgment of the people’s fidelity to the covenant was based largely on how they treated these misfits and forgotten ones. We cannot dismiss these core messages of the scriptures by quoting a law which we think excuses us from dealing with these real human dilemmas. At the very least, we must enter into these troubled human situations with empathy and compassion. We must consider what could possibly better the situation without compromising our principles, yet without abandoning the weak and wounded. We risk facing the same judgment of God the prophets levied against Israel, if we do not face these orphans in faith.
In the late third century, the Church faced a similar situation in what is known as the Donatist controversy. In the face of persecution, baptized Christians, mostly clergy, weakened and gave in to the pressure of idolatry and burning the scriptures. Afterwards, they regretted their actions and wanted to participate in the life of the church again. Some rigorists, known as “Donatists”, following the view of Donatus, a particular bishop at the time, refused to entertain such a request. They thought that only the pure and undefiled deserved to be part of the Church. If a person sinned, he or she had to start all over again and be re-baptized, and a priest in this condition could no longer celebrate the sacraments. This viewpoint provoked a controversy in the Church. Saint Augustine got involved rejecting such a position, and helping the Church to understand itself as a community of repentant sinners striving for holiness, but always relying upon God’s grace to satisfy our deficiencies. God is always faithful, and He does not go back on His Word once it claims someone’s life. His fidelity means forgiveness and healing are always possible.
As we struggle with what is the best faithful response to wounded and irregular family situations today, we need to keep the lessons of our long Christian history in mind. It is rich in wisdom, and this wisdom can help us discern how the Spirit is calling the Church to respond today. There have always been orphans among the people of God. Maybe some ran away from home on their own, others were forced by circumstances to leave, and still others have stayed around feeling lost and excluded at times. In God’s name, they call to us for help. We should not use abstract principles and rules to avoid listening to and considering their desire for spiritual nourishment. The Savior born on Christmas accepted that grace often comes packaged in smudged, broken and unattractive containers that hold within precious, generous, and penitent souls. We can’t be holier than the Word made flesh.
When my orphaned cat came to live with me, he brought joy and companionship. He taught me the discipline of caring for another who relies upon me for his well being. He has shown me God’s workings in simple, peculiar and surprising ways. Our spiritual orphans may teach us even more.
