Christianity: One Size Fits All?
There’s a strange story in the Gospel of Luke about Jesus sending out a large group of disciples, two by two, as a kind of advance contingent “into every town and place where he himself was about to come.”
Some Bible versions say there were 70, others 72, disciples. But among the strangeness aspects of this story is Jesus’ instructions that they were to “carry no purse, no bag, no sandals….” And they were to stay in houses along the way, “eating and drinking what they provide.” It appears he wanted them to travel lightly and engage their hosts.
When I worked as a priest in Bolivia, Father Mike Walker, a priest who had worked at the parish when I arrived, decided to take a two-week “vacation.” Our parish was a relatively isolated place on the shores of Lake Titicaca, about two and a half hours from the capital, La Paz. And priests from our American diocese of Kansas City-St. Joseph worked at another Bolivian parish in a semi-tropical place called Coripata, which by road is about 140 miles away.
Ate What They Offered
Mike decided to walk to Coripata and back, and to do so, he had to cross one of the highest mountain ranges in South America. From near our house, you could see the two “anchors” of the Bolivian portion of that range, Mt. Illimani and Mt. Illampu, both at over 20,000 feet above sea level. He took nothing but our dog, an adopted stray whose name I don’t recall, but no money, no change of clothes, no bag, no water. And he stayed at whatever house whose owners would take him in and ate whatever they offered.
Bolivia is a very poor country, and the rural people – almost entirely indigenous – typically lived in adobe houses with thatched roofs and dirt floors and often shared their houses with small animals, such as chickens and guinea pigs. Their diet was mostly eggs, dried potatoes called chuño, and occasional meat, such as the guinea pigs, or chicken. Mike ate what they had and slept where he could.
After the two weeks, I was driving to a nearby town and saw him coming up the road toward home, followed by the dog. Mike appeared to be in great shape, but the dog appeared ready to drop.
Mike Walker, one of my all-time heroes, died about a week ago at age 87. My wife, Amparo, and I attended the funeral in another mountainous area, the town of Ouray, Colorado, near where Mike had lived as he aged. He was my hero, a word I realize is used lightly these days, not because of his “vacation” hike (though that was spectacular, in my opinion) but because he was among the kindest people I’ve known.
Mike Walker, one of my all-time heroes, died about a week ago at age 87. My wife, Amparo, and I attended the funeral in another mountainous area, the town of Ouray, Colorado, near where Mike had lived as he aged. He was my hero, a word I realize is used lightly these days, not because of his “vacation” hike (though that was spectacular, in my opinion) but because he was among the kindest people I’ve known.
I knew him for only a short time, but I can still see him delivering a homily, in Spanish – sometimes mixed with a little Aymara, the indigenous language, with a delightful smile, giving a message of love and hope to people who were among the poorest on earth.
He was unorthodox, more in practice than in theology, wanting to live simply and trustfully. He refused to lock the doors of our house in Bolivia, and people who wanted to see him would come in during the very early hours and stand by his bed until he awoke. It didn’t faze him. He simply awoke with a smile and a willingness to help them.
Couldn’t Adapt
I was told at his funeral that he was in Bolivia, then Guatemala, for a total of 25 years. When he finally returned to his native Kansas City, he simply couldn’t adapt to life in a consumer-driven, affluent society. He had problems with the ecclesiastical authorities (just as Jesus did), eventually moving to Colorado where his family had a mountain cabin. He tried working in parishes in western Colorado, but it just didn’t work out.
But he maintained what the Ouray pastor, Fr. Nathaniel Fossage, called a “casual” style of ministry. It included no connection with a parish but did include telling people about God’s goodness and mercy. Several people at the funeral, attended by about 50 people, commented on how much Fr. Mike meant to them and their faith life.
What’s the point of all this for people searching for God?
It’s just that for Christians, at least, religion is not a “one size fits all” sort of thing. Jesus himself was a non-conformist, inviting people to faith and trust in a loving Father. I believe, as Mike did, that attending church is important for the spiritual life, but it may not be equally important for everyone. Accepting Jesus’ invitation is, in my view.
