This Sunday, I am on my way to Manchester, New Hampshire, for our PNCC Synod. The official agenda ahead is heavy, focusing on the critical need to elect three new bishops and approve over thirty structural ordinances for our church. Yet, if I were to pull aside our wise, retired priests and ask them what the real, singular purpose of a holy gathering like this should be, I know exactly what they would say. They would tell me that beyond the laws, elections, and debates, the true mission of the church is simply to bring comfort to the people. Perhaps, looking back on their own long ministries, they might even share a quiet confession: that they were sometimes far too hard on their people.
“Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.” This beautiful echo from Isaiah reminds us that the main purpose of the church and our priests is to bring comfort to people; one of our major tasks is to console a wounded world. What people need first from us is help in lifting the weight of life's complexities, wounds, and anxieties.
This call to comfort grounds today’s Gospel, where Jesus asks a simple question: "What do you think?" He tells the story of two sons: one says no but changes his mind and goes to work, while the other says the right words but never shows up. When Jesus asks which one actually did the will of the father, the answer is obviously the first. This forces us to look at a phrase we don't ponder nearly enough: doing the will of the Father. When was the last time you actually paused in the middle of a frantic day to ask, "What is the will of God in this exact situation?" The Cross shows us that true life comes from pouring ourselves out for others.
I am thinking about a good friend Tim, a retired medical manager now serving as a home health aide to Ken. Tim has provided home care for over a year for Ken, who is now at Highland Hospital in comfort care. Ken can no longer speak, however when Tim walked into his hospital room, Ken gave him a big smile. Most likely Ken will be going home to heaven soon, but Tim shared that this man will not be alone. He promised to stay at his bedside reading his favorite book, Those Crazy Ass Catholics. This is what true life means pouring ourselves out for others.
I pray for all my Sonshine Friends, especially Ken and Tim, that we pause before we act, listen before we speak, and to genuinely ask, "God, what do you think I should be doing with my life? Give us the courage of the first son to repent of our stubbornness, to lay down our own agendas, and to joyfully labor in your vineyard today. May our lives and our church structures become instruments of Your radical comfort, lifting the heavy burdens of those we meet and reflecting Your all-forgiving love to a wounded world.
