When I lived in Chicago, winter began to cut through your coat sometime in October, as the once-pleasant wind off the lake turned bitter and the days grew dark. We’d hunker down and focus on survival for the next few months . . . until some glorious day in April, when we’d crawl out of our winter dens and corner pubs to enjoy the glorious lake and bustling city.

I live now in Kansas City, and the seasons here are a bit more pliable. A sixty-degree January day is not out of the question; a May snowstorm is not impossible. And with the effects of climate change growing ever more pronounced, the seasons seem to slip and slide all over the calendar year, leaving confusion and chaos in their wake.

We are also in the midst of a cultural climate change within the life of the Catholic Church, especially in the United States. A veritable sea change in religious disaffiliation is hitting our shores after a long incubation in Europe. Empty pews and shuttered schools may be coming, or may have already come, to a parish near you.

In the wake of these changes, evangelization initiatives have sprung up in nearly every diocese across the country. While we once served as stewards, maintaining what we’ve inherited so as to hand it on to future generations, we now ponder extinction, wondering who or what will be left to inherit what we’ve preserved and cherished.

The post-pandemic data paints a ruthless picture: We are not only shrinking, but we are shrinking at an accelerating rate, as with each successive generation the number of disaffiliated Catholics grows. In fact, if being a former Catholic were a religion, it would be the fastest growing religion in the United States.

The spiritual temptation we face in light of this reality is to circle the wagons and create a cozy enclave of spiritual superiority or a country-club, members-only sense of catholicity. When this happens, Pope Francis warns: “The mark of Christ, incarnate, crucified and risen, is not present; closed and elite groups are formed, and no effort is made to go forth and seek out those who are distant or the immense multitudes who thirst for Christ” (“The Joy of the Gospel” 95).

But thankfully, it isn’t all gloom and doom. If you widen the lens a bit, you can see that immense multitudes are flocking to the Church. The global south is enjoying a summer of evangelization, as tremendous growth in Africa and Asia has fueled a steady increase of Catholics worldwide. And if you narrow the lens—looking beyond the statistics to parishes near and far—there are many vibrant and flourishing faith communities overflowing with the joy of the gospel.

Yes, October always reminds me that winter is coming. The leaves will fall and the cold will come. And in some places, it will be a long, dark winter, where survival becomes the main priority. But some day, in God’s time and in due season, spring will come again. Where will this springtime find the People of God? Longing for a long-lost golden age in our winter dens? Or courageously and joyfully, with Christ, meeting the formidable challenges of our day?

Michael J. Sanem, from the October 2023 issue of Give Us This Day, http://www.giveusthisday.org (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2023). Used with permission.