Summons changes our lives

	Answering summons Summoned to Serve is the diocesan theme for 2000-2002. The theme is an outgrowth of Renew 2000 and the Jubilee Year. It invites Catholics to put their faith and spirituality into action by serving others through charity and justice. This series will look at ways to do that.

By Tom Rinkoski

We're peas in a pod, bees in a hive, a gaggle of geese and occasionally a pride of lions. Over in the corner you can see John, all too quickly growing old. God has summoned him to write, he says; it is the work of the Spirit.

Salome has lots of stories! Her presence among our august gathering is not so much the result of being summoned to serve, but of a collision with God. She owned and operated a highly successful perfume business.

Jesus was a Schneider 18-wheeler who stopped her headlong pursuit. She lavishly anoints the poor and lepers with her best oils. She says she sees Jesus in each one. They say they see Jesus in her.

There's Andrew, who constantly reminds us that Jesus calls us to serve: feeding the poor, comforting the afflicted. He organizes groups to care for the widows and clothe the orphans, of which there are far too many.

Everyone who discusses our community brings up Paul, but we don't. No one doubts he was summoned to serve in the Lord's name. If you did, you would be subject to a retelling of his being knocked off the horse. We are glad he feels summoned to the ends of the earth.

Into this house we each brought a shoe box of memories, sights, smells and screams. Stories of a Jesus each of us has come to know.

In the shoe boxes you might find matchboxes from restaurants, lucky fish bones, postcards, bandages from former lepers, or a jar of water from that Samaritan woman.

To complicate matters, everyone in Jerusalem seems to know about our boxes. People come over for dinner. Lots of people. Thank God for the power of potluck!

Jesus enjoyed eating and feasting and taught us to chew each bite carefully with pleasure and peace. When the table isn't full of food, it is full of dreams, hopes and an occasional card game or dice.

People look into our shoe boxes. A few have followed the tracks of our tears, others respond to an ache they can't describe, which the chiropractor won't tackle. They say they feel compelled to follow us.

Even though we love telling about the Jesus who infected our lives, we are often surprised and wonder at the attraction. Each waits for their own summons.

Then there is Peter. After Jesus died - and rose - Peter took off. Sometimes when Jesus calls, you follow like children to the Pied Piper. Sometimes you sing 'cause the hills are alive. Other times, like Jonah, the only sane response is to run. Peter kerplunked himself in a small boat, drifting with the currents, swallowing the salt water of his sadness, drowning his pain.

For days, he watched a school of flying fish. They were the entertainment committee sent by God. When he came back to our house in Jerusalem, he took daily walks. But his North star was outside the walls. Peter is too big for Jerusalem. Maybe that was why we all turned to him for answers.

Matthew the quill driver usually sits alone. Even when he follows Peter as he preaches, it is in his shadow. Matthew's press releases are spirited throughout the city and posted on kiosks and stuck to refrigerators. People lap up each installment.

What scares me is not that Peter, James, Salome or the four Marys have changed. What keeps me awake at night is how we are becoming a "we."

When we gather to pray, the tug and pull of our petitions transmogrifies, transubstantiates and transforms into a common plot and purpose.

You start to hear a new story that wasn't there before. It is as if Jesus faxed this message to our inner realities: "Cancel your resistance and listen!"

We are learning that doing it together is important. If you are alone they can break your fingers and your heart. But two people back to back can cut through a mob. Three people are a delegation, a committee, a wedge. With four you can play bridge and start an organization. With six you can eat pie for dinner with no seconds. A dozen make a demonstration. A hundred can fill a hall. A thousand can have a newsletter and a web site.

It starts when you act. It begins when you listen to the summons, the scream of God inside you. It starts when you say "we" and know whom you mean, and each day you mean one more.

(Rinkoski is the Green Bay Diocese's Family Life director.)