The word "parish" comes from two Greek words: para (near) and oikos (house). In other words - "neighborhood." Until recent years, that's pretty much what a parish was: a neighborhood. I recall sitting on the beach near my grandparents' bungalow at Reeve's Park near Riverhead, Long Island, getting acquainted with the other teenagers who were there for the summer. "Where are you from?" "Our Lady Queen of Martyrs," "Joachim & Ann," etc. The name of your parish indicated the neighborhood -usually in Queens or in Brooklyn - where you lived for most of the year.
My family had a slight complication: we lived near Our Lady of the Snows, but we went to St. Hedwig's because O.L.S. did not (yet) have a school. Nevertheless, though we went to Mass every Sunday at St. Hedwig's, we were members of Our Lady of Snows - and my parents contributed to both. Why? Because we had an obligation to our actual parish, but we also wanted to make an offering where we went to Mass and to school.
At some point things changed. A Catholic is no longer required to belong to the parish in which he lives. We are pretty much free to worship wherever we want. We can go to the pretty church, the hip church, the Eastern Church, the church with the quickest Mass, etc.
Few Eastern Christian parishes had geographical boundaries, since they were few and far between. Our parishes have always been parishes of choice. Indeed, for Eastern Catholics it was often more convenient to attend a Latin parish nearby. Why drive past three Catholic Churches to go to the Melkite (or Ruthenian or Maronite or Ukrainian) Church? Or why drive across town to the Eastern Catholic church when there was an Eastern Orthodox church down the street? Consequently the Eastern parish often became associated with ethnicity, and might be visited on Christmas or during Holy Week, for a touch of old country nostalgia.
Now that we are all parishes-of-choice, some issues arise:
Molly Doe calls the rectory wanting to get her daughter's baby baptized at St. Haralambos.
The parish secretary doesn't recognize the name. She asks Father. "Molly Doe, Molly Doe... Oh, yes, she's related to Boris and Nelly Doe. I'll take the call."
"Molly?"
"Yes, Father. I want to arrange for my daughter Tiffany's baby to be baptized. We were all baptized at St. Haralambos."
"Yes, I know the family. It's good that your daughter wants her child baptized in the Eastern church. In fact, it might be a good idea for Tiffany to come to St. H's now and then so she can be acquainted with her Eastern tradition."
- nervous giggle from Molly -
"Where does Tiffany go to church now?"
"Well, Father, she doesn't go to church. But she considers herself a member of St. Haralambos, because we all were, and we're all (fill in ethnicity).
[The best scenario would be for Father to gather Molly, Tiffany, Mr. Tiffany and the prospective god-parents for several sessions, explain the mystical theology of the Church, give rich insights into the Eastern tradition, and point out all the benefits of active parish membership. And to so enthrall the Doe Family with a thirst for God, that two, three or four new families are added to the roles of active, participating parishioners. Hope springs eternal.]
Very often, once Tiffany learns that she, her husband and the sponsors will need to attend some pre-Baptismal formation classes, these might conflict with Wednesdsay evening zumba-dance-class. So they decide that Father X was snotty and wanted us to go through "all this stuff," and he wouldn't even let Uncle Harry be god-father because Harry's a Mormon, etc., etc., etc.
By the way, I actually met a couple both of whom had been baptized in infancy, but were never raised in the Church. They had six children. Only two were baptized. Why? Because they were twins and Mama found these cute outfits and thought they'd look nice for a christening.
So - a parish is no longer a physical neighborhood with geographical boundaries. Nor is it usually the only church in town.
Is someone a member because he was baptized and chrismated there some forty years ago? Or because, even though he's Episcopalian, his dad was baptized and married there? Legalistically speaking, the answer might be positive. However:
When I was newly ordained and named pastor of a small parish, I had some legalistic scruples. After awhile of trying to figure things out I called Archbishop Tawil - a very wise man. I explained that the X family were actually Maronites, and that several of the Y's were Greek Orthodox, some of the families were Latin Catholics, and so on. "So, who's actually a member?"
Sayidna's answer was simply: "Those who come."
I have tried - with a few exceptions - to use this as a rule of thumb: Those Who Come.
Active membership in a parish is the only membership that really means anything. It is genuine.
An active member worships regularly with the community,
participates fully in the liturgical and social life of the parish,
contributes regularly to the support of the parish (financially and in sharing time and talents),
involves their children in parish life,
lives the sacramental life of the Church.
Such a member doesn't need to call a "stranger" named Father So-and-So to try and arrange for a service or a consideration. When they're going on a long trip, they know to ask for a special traveller's blessing. If they're going in for surgery, they arrange for the sacrament of anointing. In times of trouble, they know that they have a spiritual Father to hold them up in prayer - not to mention brothers and sisters in Christ. When a baby is on the way they prepare for the birth, the naming, and the baptism.
By living the Christian life they evangelize, perhaps unwittingly, drawing others to Christ and to the community which is His Church. This is way more rich and engaging than bothering with a neighborhood landmark, an "old country" tradition or a photo-op. It is a gathering into the Ark of God - safe from the storms and the rising deluge -the response of the soul to Our Lord's calling. A response of faith, hope and love. A gift.
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