The saga’s main character, Michael Corleone, is speaking with Cardinal Lamberto, who would soon become pope. They are in a courtyard standing by a small bird bath or fountain. The cardinal retrieves a pebble from under the water. “Look at this stone,” he says, holding it out for Michael to see. “It has been lying in the water for a very long time, but the water has not penetrated it.” He then whacks the rock on the side of the fountain, breaking it open to expose the inside. “Look,” he says, “perfectly dry.” The glistening water on the outside had not seeped in.
Lamberto continues: “The same thing has happened to men in Europe. For centuries they have been surrounded by Christianity, but Christ has not penetrated. Christ doesn’t live within them.”
Just as Lamberto finishes his observation, Michael suffers a diabetic attack and requires sugar before it worsens. Lamberto perceptively notes that Michael’s heart is causing his real torment. Indeed, Michael is Exhibit B in the lesson. Raised in the church, Michael is nonetheless a murderer. Christ has not penetrated.
And so with us I sometimes think. Christ is everywhere around us. But is he in us too?
Three quarters of American adults identify as Christian. We like to say that we are a Christian nation. It’s a loaded phrase with historical problems, but it makes for a powerful self-identifier. We should ask if it’s true. There are some 335,000 Christian congregations in this country. In some locales a seemingly endless number of steeples jab the sky, while other congregations cram into storefronts and still others occupy massive spaces like big-box retailers, hulking islands rising amid acres of blacktop parking.
All of this is good, but it doesn’t really answer the question: Has Christ penetrated? Despite the overwhelming number of self-professed Christians, only 12 percent of American adults claim faith as their top priority, according to research by the Barna Group. Family, health, leisure, success, career, and wealth all rank higher.
And it’s not just self-professed priorities that gauge our adherence. Acceptance of traditional Christian morality has declined, as well, according to Barna. For one recent example — this one from the family research firm Child Trends — births outside marriage account for more than half of all births to women under thirty.
Enough with the dire news. There is hope and a way out.
No one can look at the culture and just fix it. No on can cause Christ to penetrate deeper into our nation. That’s delusional. In another context, C.S. Lewis denounced the idea of national repentance as a way to skirt personal repentance. But personal repentance is the only way. I can lament the statistics while also contributing to them (and in fact I have). What good is that except securing my own judgement? All we can do is open up and allow Christ to penetrate our own hearts of stone and transform them into hearts of flesh. It just so happens that is a sufficient and efficacious beginning.
Back to the courtyard: Lamberto asks Michael about making confession. It’s been thirty years since he’s last opened his heart. But Michael knows confessing isn’t all. He must repent, which he won’t do. Will we, each of us? We must. We can. Our Christianity glistens brilliantly on the outside. But the question is, when God breaks us open, will he find that Christ has truly seeped inside, or will he discover us to be merely dry and dead?