One of my favorite stories emerging out of my teaching career was when I sent a deficiency report to the parents of one of my students—and best friends—Joe Popelka ’84.
Joe—a year older than me and by then a several-year veteran on the faculty—“took” my Sacraments class during one of his free periods the winter before he married his wife, Moira. As befitting the honors student he was throughout his academic career, Joe came to class every day well prepared: having read material thoroughly and armed with questions about the sacred rituals which characterize our Catholic Faith. He was, not surprisingly, brilliant: a delight to have in the classroom and an inspiration to his “classmates” who loved having him sit next to them.
However, Joe refused to take tests or turn in homework. Mid-quarter he had achieved an average in the neighborhood of 14% (his participation and small-group work had “saved” him from a worse grade.)
As a result, I felt forced to mail home the deficiency notice (given before grades were accessible to families via the world-wide interweb net) informing his parents that their son was in danger of failing. It was the only one he had ever received. The report, by all accounts, was featured prominently on Joseph Popelka, Sr.’s refrigerator for many years.
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Joe took the class before his wedding, not so much because he wanted to “know what he was getting into” in getting married, but because he was embarking on a life that, God willing, would bring with it—among other things—the blessing of children (which it has). Though, as his students and colleagues will attest, Joe is a dedicated scientist, he was—and is—a man of great faith. He knew he would be living and sharing that faith with his family. Always a teacher, he wanted to be able to do that by being as well-prepared as possible. Before he read the "Catechism" description of the sacraments in our class, he intuitively understood what the Church teaches, namely that
The seven sacraments touch all the stages and all the important moments of Christian life: they give birth and increase, healing and mission to the Christian's life of faith. There is thus a certain resemblance between the stages of natural life and the stages of the spiritual life (CCC #1210).
More “seasoned” readers will recall the “Baltimore Catechism” definition of a sacrament as “an outward sign, instituted by Christ to give grace”—a solid, if imperfect, explanation of the rituals. The definition, recalling St. Augustine’s observation that sacraments are “visible signs of invisible grace” reminds us that Jesus established (or gave his blessing to) the practices so that we might share in the life of God. Moreover, recognizing that we need to somehow “see” or have a tangible experience of the sacraments, there is a visible, experiential aspect to them.
Because it is the case when approaching the ineffable mystery of God, when discussing the sacraments, no one definition or description can suffice. Augustine’s mentor St. Ambrose offers a simple, but compelling explanation when he notes that sacraments are simply where we “meet Christ.” Pope Benedict XVI and Pope Francis concur. One theologian (whose name sadly escapes me) has described them as “encounters with Christ within the Church of Christ.”
Herein lies the beauty of the sacraments and one of the reasons why, despite the all-too-human failings we can find in our Church, I remain enthusiastically a Catholic. For it is here that we have these sacred mysteries wherein we are guaranteed an opportunity to meet Christ (quite literally in the Eucharist!). While I know God can, and does, come to people on Sunday morning walks in the woods, mosquitoes and unsure footing tend to get in the way of my personal experience with the Almighty there. It is only my attitude and disposition that denies me the privilege of meeting Jesus in the confessional, the baptismal font, the hospital bed, or the altar. Within the Church of Christ and through His ministers, when “two or more are gathered in [His] Name, [He] is there,” bringing us to Himself. Moreover, as the Catechism asserts, through the sacraments He is there at all the “important moments” of our lives: at our births (or those of our children and grandchildren) in Baptism; as we “increase” or grow through Eucharist and Confirmation; as we need healing from sin, uncertainty, and illness in Reconciliation and the Sacrament of the Sick, and as some of us commit ourselves in permanent service to others in Matrimony and Holy Orders. When we need Him—and others need us—most, He is there, made “visible” in the appearance of bread and wine and in the symbols of water, oil, and selfless, self-giving spousal love.
Always.
Which is why I am saddened when the people I love (and as a Christian I know that means everyone!) have fallen away from or have never experienced the sacraments. They miss out on those moments of our lives that the Lord so wonderfully wishes to be present and to remind us that He is always with us “until the end of the age” (Mt. 28:20). As we baptize our babies, we remember that birth is a sort of miracle. In celebrating the Eucharist every week (every day?), we are reminded that Jesus wants to enter “under our roofs” in the ordinariness of our lives. When we anoint our sick and dying, we recall that in our suffering we can draw closer to Jesus Who suffered with us. Moreover, we receive the gift of God that is grace, which helps us to make it through it all.
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I suspect Joe Popelka wanted to learn more about the sacraments because he understood this. But while he may not have made the grade in class, in his openness to these encounters with Christ he did something more important, something we all can do.
He’s made a life.
A.M.D.G. / B.V.M.H.