When I was seven, Santa brought me a large science book. Just having it made me feel like a scientist. My favorite chapter was about the solar system. Telling about the planets in detail; it described Mars as hot, desert-like, all covered in the same rust colored dust, uninhabitable by humans.
I must have been eight or so when I did a science project on the solar system using an old Victrola to turn my ball and balloons to make it look “real.”
Years later, I experienced my first dust storm. Apparently, the dust had been picked up in New Mexico and carried across the country by a huge wind. It made breathing nearly impossible. I soaked bed sheets and made tents over the children’s beds to help filter the air. Something like this happened last summer in Missouri, though not nearly as bad. The next morning, I was shocked by what I saw. The entire ground, the trees, the roads, the grass, the cars, even the houses were covered in a rusty brown dust. There was absolutely no color, only shapes remained. Everything looked the same. It gave me an eerie feeling that told me something was horribly wrong. Maybe we had moved to Mars.
I love Sundays, and I love our little parish. It is a warm and welcoming family of friends. Still, every once in a while, when I look out from the altar, I think of the dust storm and that old book about Mars, and about everything being the same color. I know that the people of the world aren’t that way. Yet that is the way our little parish looks. The eerie feeling I experienced years ago returns to tell me that something is wrong, horribly wrong.
The problem of the dust of years ago was solved with a good rain and a little water. I am not so sure the concern I have for the parish can be solved so easily.
The reality is that life, all life, relies on diversity, diversity of seasons, of light and darkness, of food sources. Yet the diversity in our parish is substantially minimal. It is up to each of us to examine our own practices to see if we are part of the problem or part of the solution. In any case, I would encourage each of us to extend a warm welcome to all everywhere, all the time, to avoid the illusion of having moved to Mars.
All are welcome, all the time.
Father Bill Myrick
