There is an almost pathological aversion to talking about religion or sharing one’s Faith in our contemporary culture. We are cautioned to keep conversations at bars to the topics of sports, television, and the weather, lest we accidentally become too political, or even worse, religious. But this aversion demonstrates a fundamental
misunderstanding of what our Faith is supposed to be in our lives, and reorienting the way we think about our Faith might make us more likely to share it with others in the same way that Andrew brings his brother to Jesus in this week’s Gospel.

That which is truly good, as many saints tell us, is effusive. That’s just a fancy way to say that people naturally tend to share the truly exciting and good things in their lives with others. If you see a good movie, or read a good book, or tried an amazing dish recently, you probably went out and told other people about it, or at least made a note to do so. These are the experiences that bind us together as families, as communities, and as a broader culture. St. Andrew was not just able, but excited, to run and tell his brother that he had met a man who seemed to be the Messiah. He was unencumbered by the many barriers and neuroses that keep up from talking about Jesus to people in our lives. He wasn’t worried that he’d be branded as a religious weirdo. He wasn’t concerned about what it might say about his political affiliations. He didn’t hold it in because he was afraid it would be awkward. He just went and told his brother because he loved him, and he thought he might want to know about Jesus as well.

There are thousands of factors that might make people cautious about sharing  their relationship with Jesus. Maybe the person we want to talk to had a bad experience with a priest in confession, or was sternly disciplined by nuns in a parochial school, or they have been marred by countless awful liturgical experiences over the years.
Who wants to walk headlong into a landmine of that sort? But more important than the potential obstacles in the hearts of others are the obstacles that exist within our own hearts. Maybe it’s because we carry habitual sin with us and we don’t feel worthy to tell others about Jesus. Maybe we doubt that He can really heal us, and so we don’t want to invite others into that woundedness. Perhaps we see in God a reflection of a broken relationship with our parents or our families. The reasons are manifold, but St. Andrew moves past all of them because he trusts God,
and has been waiting for a Messiah.
 
The answer to these obstacles is never to be found in ignoring them or covering them over. We need God’s healing in our lives so that the wounds that make us too weak or too scared to have meaningful relationships about God can finally be bound up and taken away from us. Pope Francis talks about the Church being a field hospital in the war going on around us. If you carry these wounds with you (and honestly, who doesn’t?), bring them to God. Take them to the confessional. Ask a friend, a spouse, someone from the parish, a Deacon, to pray for you, to pray with you. Leave these obstacles behind and become like St. Andrew; become evangelist you were meant to be.
 
Prayers always,
Fr. McC