There are many things that I’m getting used to now that I live in a house in a neighborhood. Living in an apartment or in a rural community, there aren’t that many door-to-door solicitors that bother. Nowadays, whenever anyone knocks on my door, they’re either selling a home security system or their religion.
I’m the first to admit that when I’m not expecting anyone, I don’t answer. I’m under no obligation to open my door, unless its the police, and they tend to do a nice job of letting people know who’s at the door.
Last Fall, two Mormon missionaries came by to chat. For whatever reason, a few weeks ago, there was a knock at the door, and I opened it. It was Jehovah’s Witness. I indulged for a few minutes, but made my exit as soon as I could.
I have to say, although there’s no way I’m jumping off of the Catholic ship, I really appreciate the courage of conviction that these missionaries have to knock on doors in hostile territory, not knowing who’s on the other side. I think it shows a depth of faith that not even I have. After all, sometimes I struggle to lead the prayer before meals when we’re out to eat.
There’s nothing to be ashamed of as a Catholic. Perhaps I can follow the example of the missionaries of other denominations and be more courageous in public. I never know on whom that small act of public witness I might make an impression.