Vision and Ventilators

Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    We hear this familiar Gospel passage, and probably, if we are honest, we don’t like this parable too much.  Perhaps now, more than ever, we all want to get what is ours, what we are owed, and we want what we feel is just.  The idea that someone could work for one hour, and receive the same amount of money as a person who worked for an entire day seems ludicrous.  But Jesus never promises that everyone will get the same amount. 
    This really speaks to how much God values spreading the Gospel.  He is willing to pay someone a full day’s wages as long as they work hard, no matter how long they worked.  The obvious message is the relationship between those who were “faithful” Jews, and those who were making last-minute conversions.  It could also easily be extended to mean the Jews (who were called from of old) and the Gentiles, who were only joined to the olive tree of Israel after Christ broke down the barriers between Jew and Gentile by His Death and Resurrection. 

    And we even see this parable at work in a real situation in St. Dismas, the good thief, who was crucified with Jesus, but who prayed that he would be with Jesus in paradise.  “‘Amen, I say to you,’” said our Lord, “‘today you will be with me in Paradise.’”  We have no evidence that St. Dismas had followed Jesus at all during his lifetime, and the only thing we know about him before his death is that he was a criminal, often times described as a thief.  But hours after his statement of faith in Jesus, he would be in heaven. 
    Do we have the same drive for the spreading of the kingdom of God as did the landowner?  Are we willing to pay dearly so that the Gospel can be shared, even to the point of foolishness?  Or do we have other motivating factors for our actions, that we feel are more fair or equitable?
    Jeff and Mary Love, Karen Downs, Deacon Dave and I, recently attended the first of three meetings on helping parishes spread the Gospel.  The meetings are co-hosted by the Diocese of Lansing and the Catholic Leadership Institute.  We learned about parish vision, core values, and purpose statements.  For St. Pius X, it was all a bit awkward, as we know we are on a trajectory towards closing.  In talking privately with one of the facilitators, I spoke about the preference you expressed, to exist until we ran out of sufficient funds.  He asked the question that has been on my heart since you voiced your desire for St. Pius X: is this really what would advance the kingdom more?  Is this really the best path for spreading the Gospel, not just in Flint Township, but for Genesee County and the Diocese of Lansing?
    I know that your preference is based on your love of St. Pius X.  It is hard to let go of something so dear to us, especially when some of you helped to found St. Pius X with your family.  Change is never easy, especially the longer we live, and holding to the status quo requires the least amount of change.  But is it operating with the same drive that Jesus describes in the Gospel for spreading the kingdom and sharing the Gospel, such that resources are brought to bear on those who will do that work?

    To be sure, I understand the mindset of wanting to hold on for as long as possible, even when the end seems obvious.  In late March of 2020 we were at the very beginning of a virus about which we knew little.  Ventilators were in high demand and short supply.  Those with pre-existing conditions were especially vulnerable.  It was in that context that my grandfather, whom most called Jesse, contracted COVID from his nursing home.  He was taken to Sparrow Hospital for treatment.  For his kids and grandkids, including me, it was scary.  The mortality rate was rising quickly, and no one seemed to know how to treat COVID effectively.  My grandfather started out with a cough, needing a little bit of oxygen from a mask from time to time.  He had some good days, and things seemed to be holding steady.  We, of course, were not allowed to visit, except by Zoom.  As the days progressed, though, things got worse.  Eventually the occasional dose of oxygen from a mask became the nasal cannula, the thing they stick in your nostrils in order to deliver oxygen all the time.  We grandkids made a video holding up signs, telling him we loved him.  Around that same time that we showed the video, the nasal cannula was proving not enough, and he was going to need a ventilator.  My mom and her siblings had to decide what to do next. 
    My grandfather was 93.  He had been a strong man throughout his life.  His children, who loved him dearly, and most of whom could not see him, even if they traveled from being out-of-State, would not have a chance to say good-bye in person if they decided to withhold further care.  But, as hard as it was, they made the decision not to use the ventilator, as it was not always proving useful in treatment, especially for the elderly, and perhaps that ventilator could help a younger person who had a better chance of surviving the Coronavirus.  He died shortly after being removed from oxygen on 9 April 2020.
    Do I wish I could have been with my grandfather in his last moments, giving him the Sacrament of the Sick and the Apostolic Pardon?  Certainly.  Would I have done anything to keep him around longer and put him on the ventilator so that we could have, hopefully, a few more days?  No.  At the time, the what-ifs were frequent in my mind, but I know my mom and her brothers made the right decision.  It wasn’t easy, but it was for the greater good.  And I would like to believe, though I have no proof of this, that someone else who needed a ventilator benefited and maybe even had his life saved from the machine that my grandfather would have been using if that route of care had been chosen. 
    Our mission is to spread the Gospel.  I have been preaching that since I arrived in 2016.  We have groups who are active here in the parish, working hard to strengthen their faith, and I applaud those groups.  But I think, if we’re honest, we know where this is going.  From factors both in and outside of our control, our parish is dying. 
    So what is the best thing for us to do?  Is it to remain as long as we can, and just spend money to have the semblance of a parish so that we can pretend everything is ok and pretend that hundreds more people are going to start coming to St. Pius X in the next months or year?  Is that the calculation that the landowner makes for spreading the Gospel of the kingdom?  Or can those resources, both personal and financial, be better used by supporting other parishes in the area?  Could the ventilator we have chosen to use, which may prolong things but which will not cure things, be better used by someone else?
    We hear in our Gospel the paradigm that God uses for evaluating what is best: how can I get more workers for the vineyard to spread the Gospel?  Is that the paradigm that we are using as a parish as we continue our on pilgrimage to closing?  Or do we have another paradigm for how long we should exist?  I know what we all want.  But is what we want in line with the mission of any parish: to spread the Gospel as effectively as possible?