But something strange is happening in France this Easter. A record number of French citizens are seeking baptism—over 10,000 this year, compared with 5,500 last year. What to account for a 45% increase in those seeking the holy and Catholic religion in France, the birthplace of secularism? Another strange statistic: the annual three-day pilgrimage from Notre Dame in Paris to Notre Dame in Chartres has been steadily growing (from 16,000 two years ago to 18,000 last year). This year the number of registrations overwhelmed the computer systems, which had to shut down until after Easter! And not only in France: almost every diocese in this country has recorded steadily increasing numbers seeking baptism. Baltimore has reported a 28% increase, and Los Angeles a 38% increase. I just read that Malasia, of all places, had 2000 people enter the Church yesterday.
I have not a few French parishioners here in San Francisco, but my first one was an atheist. He was raised in Paris with no faith and came to San Francisco to work as an animator at Lukasfilms. He had a good job, a beautiful Swedish wife, a lovely apartment in a chic neighborhood, but he came knocking on the parish door. “Why do you want to be baptized?” I asked him. David replied: “because life without God doesn’t work. I grew up in Paris with steadily increasing social chaos, and my personal life has no fundamental meaning. I want to see if Christ can give me a fuller life.” David was baptized in 2016 and has since returned to France with his beautiful Swedish wife and beautiful three children, for which he thanks God unceasingly.
Yesterday I ran to Costco to pick up some fixins for the Easter Vigil reception. Twelve were baptized in my parish last night, and I needed some grapes and cheese to go with my French wines. I put my card up to the reader at the entrance and a nice Filipina smiled at me. “Thank you, Father,” she said. It made me feel all warm inside. Inside the vast Costco, I next approached a massive security guard. He was sitting, but I think he was about six foot five, and he looked straight at every person entering the store through his wrap-around black sunglasses. He was a black man, rippling with muscles, and looking as scary as the Terminator. I shyly waved at him, and he said, without cracking any kind of smile, “Happy Easter, Father.” I hurried on, rejoicing to have received the best Easter gift of all, the shared joy of a man who is not allowed to smile and not allowed to be religious. The six foot five security guard is there to scare people from shoplifting, but he knows, too, that life without God is dark and boorish. He knows, in his great heart, that Jesus rose from the dead!