We’re All Armed
by Alan Hartway, c.pp.s., Mead, Colorado
At Guardian Angels Parish in Mead, Colorado,
hospitality is our evangelizing buzzword. We moved
into our new parish center last Christmas Eve for the
first Mass and realized immediately that we’d built
too small. Our seating capacity and fire code is 250
people in the sanctuary space. That evening over 600
attended. Hospitality is so important to the parish
that we secured the patron saint of hospitality, St.
Josephine Bakhita, to have her relics in the altar.
So, imagine my shock when I drove up to Casper
Wyoming—250 miles north of Mead—for a wed-
ding, the groom a member of Guardian Angels who
sat my house and cats last summer while I was in
Europe. There’s very little sign of humans once the
drive gets into Wyoming, just vast open spaces,
ranges of mountains off to the left in the west, and a
highway with an 80 mile per hour speed limit (my
preferred style).
My one and only stop on the way was in
Wheatland, Wyoming for the restroom and water.
At the door to this Sinclair station, I was confronted
with a large sign, dead center on the door, at eye
level: “CONSIDER ALL PERSONS AS ARMED.”
Now, that was hospitality. My first reaction was to
think to myself, “Thanks for the warning.” My sec-
ond reaction was a kind of sadness over the fact that
we’ve come to such a state that we must be afraid of
one another rather than be friendly; it was not a hos-
pitable greeting, after all. This led to a third reaction
in my guts: anger. Anger arises out of a helplessness
about something, and I felt helpless to do anything
about it. I was just passing quickly through, and not
willing or wanting to stay around and act out my
province’s corporate stance. I just wanted to get in
and get out. I only bought a bottled water, not want-
ing to spend any more than that lest I support them.
I used their restroom in protest against them.
On the way out, my eye stopped at a whole rack
of cowboy poetry! I casually flipped through one of
the books and landed on a poem about a disconso-
late cowgirl pining for her rugged, untamed, high
plains cowboy. The poem was mostly about how she
would do anything for him forever. This was odd for
a state boasting of the first female governor in the
nation. God help that poor cowboy when his cowgirl
gets liberated! I enjoyed the cognitive dissonance.
In any case, it was a poem about love, which means
we’d do just about anything for the other person.
I drove the rest of the way to Casper without
incident. The wedding was two fine Catholic fami-
lies making a new family. The bride’s parents from
Casper were very hospitable, so I had to re-adjust my
initial image of the state a bit. This very fine couple
exchanged their covenant vows of love, to put all the
weapons away, to share and talk, to work together to
be changed and transform the world around them.
They began at the wedding itself. Immediately
after the vows, they addressed the congregation, and
invited everyone to share their joy of many blessi ngs
with the less fortunate than themselves and the gath-
ered family and guests. They announced an offertory
for the Torrington, Wyoming Youth Home, doing
much of the same sort of work as pbmr in Chicago.
In other words, the couple began their marriage
with service to the world. I was very impressed. They
knew that in some small way that they can make a
difference. It was a beautiful wedding!
On the way back to Colorado later that evening,
I had plenty of time to think about many things. For
one, we live in a violent culture, but I don’t have to
contribute to it; rather I can notice the hand of God
everywhere I can and change first my own attitudes.
I have power by grace to do that at least. Further, if
I get stuck in my anger as I was at that gas station
sign, I’m only contributing to the problem. Finally, I
met a lot of strangers that weekend, everyone one of
them friendly, kind, and hospitable. During the drive
I did not wear a Roman collar, so all people knew
they were dealing with was some fat, old man. I did
feel the hospitality, and I stopped thinking about
everyone as armed.
Hospitality softens us, engages us in acts of gener-
osity, and humbles us. This was the life of St. Josephine
Bakhita. She’s also the patron saint of victims of
continued on page 13
September 2018 • The New Wine Press • 11