THE
MAJESTIC STAG ran across the road, down the cliff face and into the sea. He was chased by domestic dogs yapping at his
heels. He swam with strength, headed out
to sea. The dog-walkers on the path were
horrified; the stag cannot possibly make it to the opposite shore. What can we do they asked each other in
alarm. Should we call 911 or maybe
better, the coastguard?
The
stag was huge and handsome with a fine set of many-pointed antlers. He was a survivor of urban sprawl and reduced
habitat. He grazed on shrubs and
flowers, infuriating neighbourhood gardeners who sought to banish such untamed
creatures from their cultivated spaces.
What was in his mind as he took to the sea and started swimming?
The
dog-walkers could see the stag’s branching antlers growing smaller
and smaller as it swam steadily towards the horizon. They understood well that this final bid for
survival could result only the death of the stag. They were at a loss; nothing in their
experience prepared them to prevent this tragedy. They grieved for the stag but also for
themselves and our world, and even for their children who might never know wild
creatures or the natural habitat in which they flourished.
Think
of the stag as an image of the visible Church, hierarchical and all-male. From childhood we were taught to respect its
authority and give loyalty to its teaching.
Yet now the visible Church struggles to survive. It is hounded on all sides by threats both
great and small; it has shrunk in size, in credibility and influence. In our life-time, so many baptised members
have been pushed to its margins, disempowered, silenced. We who might be described as the invisible
Church, are aghast to see this noble institution confidently headed for
oblivion. What is our responsibility? What should be our priorities? How shall we act?
For members of St Iris Faith
Community, recalling our shared homily on the gospel of Matthew, 22,
34-40,
“Which
Lord, is the greatest commandment?” Sunday
26th October 2014
Alexina Murphy
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