Roamin' Catholics
- Guest Contributor
- Jun 30
- 5 min read
By Father Brian Larkin
Pastor of Our Lady of Lourdes Parish, Denver, and St. Louis Parish, Englewood
"Consumerism is not so much about having more as it is about having something else; that’s why it is not simply buying but shopping that is the heart of consumerism… the moving on to shopping for something else, no matter what one has just purchased, sets the spiritual tone for consumerism.” William Cavanaugh Being Consumed: Economics and Christian Desire
Common to modern Catholic life has become the dynamic of parish shopping, driving whatever distance we might to find the perfect fit. This is nothing new and hasn’t been since the automobile’s appearance. More problematic than driving to the “right” parish, however, is the seeming prevalence of Catholics who never actually make a purchase. Like serial daters who can’t quite find the right match or maybe harbor unrealistic expectations, “roaming” Catholics, as some designate themselves, are perpetually on the search for something better.
Parish has a long history etymologically. The fourth pope, Clement, used the word in the opening of a letter he wrote to the Church of Corinth in A.D. 96: “From the colony of the Church of God at Rome to the colony of the Church of God at Corinth” (1st Clement in Early Christian Writings, Revised. Translator Andrew Louth, Penguin Classics, London, 1987, pg. 23). Colony here translates a Greek word paroikoysa, meaning a group of aliens sojourning together; this word would eventually meander its way into English as parish (Ibid. 151 no. 3). A powerful image — parishes are communities of Christians in foreign territory.
Paul wrote something akin to this to the Philippians: “But our citizenship is in Heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ…” (Philippians 3:20). Communities of foreigners have a shared homeland and a shared language; they tend to have common culinary tastes and distastes; they share mores and traditions. All these things impart identity to a community; they create boundaries that mark who is inside and who is outside. They shape the way we think about what is normal and what is not; they make people feel at home or out of place. We might say that communities like this create a culture, or better, a counterculture.
As Catholics, our boundaries are very real, but radically different from worldly ethnic and social boundaries. Throughout his letters, Paul reminds Christians that the old (worldly) boundary markers no longer carry meaning: “For in Christ Jesus you are all sons of God, through faith. For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:26-28; also Romans 10:12-13, 1 Corinthians 1:26-30, Ephesians 2:13-22, Colossians 3:11). Through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, God has created a new family — a family not defined by ethnicity or social status, but by faith. Faith in Jesus is the new marker of God’s family; it is the boundary for who is an insider and who is an outsider.
There is an important point to be made here, which Paul makes in various places, namely that our communities are to be built on faith in (and faithfulness to) Christ and not on merely human foundations.
“For no one can lay a foundation other than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ. Now if anyone builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw — each man’s work will become manifest; for the day will disclose it, because it will be revealed by fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each one has done” (1 Corinthians 3:11-13)
Paul is speaking here about factions in the Church of Corinth. Some want to make the Church’s foundation about various leaders (Paul, Apollos, Peter) rather than Jesus. What could be more relatable? More human? How many Catholics have jumped to another parish because of a priest? All of us have had priests or deacons whom we relate to better than others. Of course, there are other foundations in the ecclesial marketplace: liturgical preferences, political ideologies, social concerns, generational demographics, etc. The Gospel is clear that some liturgical practices, political opinions and social concerns are in conformity with Christ, while others are not (The Greek words for "Gospel" and "Lord" carried heavy political connotations in antiquity, for example); but what should determine and measure all else is Jesus.
All of this might seem like no big deal, that parish shopping is just a part of the modern landscape. The danger, however, is that our parishes are no longer stable, no longer the places where people come to know each other, worship together and have conflicts and forgiveness. Rather, they come to reflect our transient and throw-away culture.
Famously, St. Basil admonished his monks about the importance of living with others:
“How shall you show humility, if you have no one in comparison with whom to show yourself humble? How shall you show compassion if you cut yourself off from the fellowship of the many? How can you exercise yourself in patience, if no one contradicts your wishes? If you think the teaching of the Holy Scripture is sufficient to correct your character, you are like a person who learns the theory of carpentry but never makes anything. [If you neglect life in the community,] whose feet will you wash? Who will you care for? In comparison to whom will you be last?” Long Rule for Monks, Question 7
St. Paul and St. Basil are both concerned with building things — in our quote from St. Paul, the Church; in St. Basil, Christian holiness. Consumerism undermines the pursuit of both these goals. Hard relationships can be discarded, lackluster ministries don’t need to be renewed, and we don’t need to grow in patience, courage or mercy because either we’ve never really put down roots or the rub of real relationships can be jettisoned for something easier. We can relocate from “Salt of the Earth” parish and go to “Light of the World” (see Matthew 5:13-16). Likewise, some today opt to substitute life in the parish for membership in an apostolate or spiritual group and reduce parishes to pit stops for the sacraments. Apostolates and other groups are necessary, but they simply cannot replace the essential role of the parish; they cannot be the primary locus of Christian worship and life.
One of my priest professors in the seminary used to speak of entropy as the normative reality for earthly life: marriages break up, friendships grow distant, Paul and Barnabas part ways — he was a bit of a pessimist. This priest would emphasize that whenever you found lasting unity, it was not of man but of God. It is understandable that people drive to parishes where they feel at home, and likewise that different points in life occasion the transfer to another parish: a growing family, enrolling kids in a school, the discovery of a parish worth building up and investing in.
There are legitimate reasons for changing parishes, yet we must ask ourselves:
Am I willing to build, to invest even when things aren’t perfect?
Am I building up my community of sojourners?
Am I fighting against entropy or have I simply become one more consumer?
