Each man and woman carries within them an unknown potential—a capacity for greatness. All they might do and be is waiting just below the surface, often hidden even from themselves. How often we walk by strangers and don’t see their ability to do heroic deeds, change the world in some way, or just ease the suffering of others.
Human greatness isn’t reduced to grand gestures or public achievements, but the capacity for courage, love, and the hard sacrifices of each day. Our possibilities are not limited by the circumstances of life, but by the size of our souls.
It is this capacity for greatness that Christ’s call draws out of every person. The Church, in turn, is entrusted with the task of echoing this call in His name. She reminds us to fix our attention and aim our lives toward the deepest realities: life and death, salvation, meaning, and purpose.
So it is not a small thing when we lose ourselves in the small things.
Too often, the universal call to holiness is replaced by “Catholic helpfulness.” Instead of inviting people to a great adventure, we ask them to spend their time and gifts on insignificant trifles: arrange the flowers, pass the basket, run the fish fry, sell beer at the festival. These can be good things, but they cannot become a significant focus or define what it means to be a Christian.
Small things, like arranging the flowers, can and must be done with great love. And equally, we can go off on a grand adventure, and forget the point is following the Lord. In small or large things, we need the same great generosity and large heart. Not getting distracted by shiny things is just as important as not getting lost in our smallness.
But if we are honest, I think we have to admit that instead of helping each person face the challenging demands of this Gospel balance, we divert our (and their) attention to logistics, fundraising, maintenance, and nominal participation in the liturgy.
Is this what Christ meant when He said, “Come, follow me”? Is the fullness of the Christian life satisfied with a few prayers at night, helping out at the parish, and mostly being a good person?
No—there is often a surprising mismatch between what the Church should invite us to and the smallness of the tasks we actually present to people. Instead we have to invite them to the mission and generous self-sacrifice. We cannot be afraid to ask them to risk everything for Christ. Yes, all the other activities can give the illusion of a vibrant parish, but we risk making an idol of things running smoothly and the self-satisfaction of big numbers.
Do we fear calling people to greatness? Are we ashamed that Christ asks for everything? Do we worry about failure or what people might think? Perhaps we’re afraid they will say no and go away, so we never ask and give them the chance to say yes.
John Paul II reminds us, “the work that awaits everyone in the vineyard of the Lord is so great there is no place for idleness.” (CFL 3) But he puts that responsibility on us, the Church. “Why do you stand here idle all day?” (Mt 20:6-7) because no one has asked them, invited them to the task at hand. The times demand that we “repeat [the Lord’s] invitation … with even greater urgency.” (CFL 3)
Each person has a deep need for transcendence, to go beyond themselves! We will never be truly happy without forgetting ourselves and taking up the cross. That requires laying down our lives at the service of something beyond the pretty “now” of our suffocating contentment.
This is why I yearn for a Church that dares to expect—and even demand—Christian greatness! At a minimum I hope we would be willing to risk discomfort (ours and theirs) by simply inviting people to the radical adventure of faith. We must return to our mission in Christ, beyond the management of trivialities.
I know firsthand how hard it is to give up the safety of the familiar, the predictable, and the status quo. Yes, it can even be a terrible struggle. But it is the only way to truly change lives, do what matters, and fulfill our mission as Church.
As Jacques Fesch wrote, “May He let you see that within your soul a saint is sleeping… you are called to holiness, like me, like everyone. Don’t forget.”
