It is an odd but undeniable truth that while man is a social creature, he is also inclined to invent thousands of reasons to avoid his fellows. The modern world, with all its technological marvels, has created unprecedented opportunities for solitude masquerading as connection. Social media, that paradoxical engine of isolation, allows a man to speak to millions and yet listen to no one. The irony is profound—while we are more “connected” than ever, on a fundamental level, we are growing more disconnected than ever before. We think we are engaging with others, but too often, this engagement is shallow, lacking the depth of face-to-face interaction. But let us leave aside the pixelated distractions of our age and return to something older, something deeper—the parish. The local parish is not merely a building where Mass is celebrated, nor is it a perfunctory gathering of pious souls fulfilling obligations. It is, if we are to believe the great minds of Christendom, the very heart of Christian life in society, the training ground for charity, and the forge in which our souls are shaped toward Heaven. A parish is a dynamic community, a living organism where each member has a role, not only in worship but in the ongoing sanctification of the entire body of believers.

St. Thomas Aquinas, that angelic doctor whose intellect soared as high as his humility delved deep, tells us that man is a social animal by nature. To deny this would be to deny not only Aristotle but reality itself. In his Summa Theologica, Aquinas writes that “Man naturally seeks the society of his fellows.” This is not merely because he enjoys their company (although, ideally, he would) but because he needs them. He continues: “man is not sufficient for himself, but needs others.” There is a deeper truth here, that our humanity is formed not in isolation, but in relationship with others. We are created to love and serve one another, and this mutual dependence is the crucible in which virtue is formed. For we must—by necessity—reflect our Creator who is perfect community in Himself. If the Most Blessed Trinity is community and oneness and we are called to “be perfect as our Heavenly Father is perfect,” then should we not seek unity in community in our own lives?

The pursuit of the good life, according to St. Thomas, is impossible in isolation. The virtues—prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance—are cultivated in relationship with others. One does not practice justice in a vacuum any more than one practices patience without the occasional trial of an irksome neighbor. In fact, the neighbor is an indispensable teacher, providing the opportunity to practice these virtues. And where better to engage in these exercises of virtue than within the bounds of one’s own parish? The parish community becomes a “school of sanctity” where our natural inclination toward society is elevated and perfected by grace. Here, among our fellow believers, we learn how to live the Gospel in a concrete way. In the Summa, Aquinas writes, “The various virtues are practiced with respect to one’s neighbor.” The parish is where we exercise those virtues in a very tangible way, among the imperfect but lovable members of the Body of Christ. It is easy to love mankind in general; it is harder to love Mrs. McGillicuddy in the next pew who sings off-key and insists on discussing, at length, her cat’s latest antics. Yet this is precisely where sanctification occurs. It is in these ordinary, often messy encounters that we are made holy.

If St. Thomas gives us the theological foundation for socialization, St. Francis de Sales provides the method. That doctor of charity, whose pen was as gentle as his heart was vast, understood that holiness is not attained in splendid isolation but in the midst of others. He recognized that the path to sanctity is not necessarily retreat into a monastic life, but through engagement with the world, and especially with the people around us. St. Francis’s wisdom is deeply practical and accessible, designed for the everyday person striving to live a devout life in the world. He offers a model of Christian charity that is patient, kind, and generous, recognizing that true holiness is found not in extraordinary acts, but in consistent and loving engagement with others.

In his Introduction to the Devout Life, St. Francis writes, “A spoonful of honey attracts more flies than a barrel of vinegar.” This simple yet profound statement captures the essence of his approach: Charity must be warm, gentle, and inviting. He understood that the parish is not a place of cold duty but a vibrant community where people grow together in love and virtue. The parish is the arena where we practice and grow in charity, where we live out the call to love our neighbor as ourselves. St. Francis also stresses that “devotion does not consist in extraordinary practices, but in the faithful living of ordinary life.” The heart of devotion is found not in the mystical or the extraordinary, but in the daily interactions with our brothers and sisters. For the layman, this means engaging with the parish community, fostering relationships rooted in Christian love, and practicing virtues in daily interactions. The real test of our devotion comes not in cloistered silence but in the hustle and bustle of communal life. “To love our neighbor in charity is to recognize in him the image of God.” The key to holiness, according to St. Francis, is learning to see Christ in the face of every person we encounter, especially those who challenge us the most.

It is one of the peculiar failures of modernity that so many Catholics attend Mass but do not belong to their parishes. They slip in and out of pews like shadows, avoiding eye contact, avoiding conversation, avoiding community. They fulfil their attendance obligations, coming even to the great High Feasts of the year, yet they do not obey Holy Church when She commands them to rejoice. What a terrible betrayal of the centuries of Christians who died to celebrate these Feasts! To sneak into Mass and to sneak out, avoiding any chance at interactions with your brothers and sisters in the parish. This cultural phenomenon speaks to a deeper problem: the disconnect between faith and community. St. Francis de Sales would gently chide them: “The secret to Christian devotion is not to withdraw from society, but to embrace it in love and humility.” The idea that we can live out our faith in isolation is foreign to the Salesian vision. The true practice of the Christian life is a communal one, lived out in the context of a loving, imperfect community. The parish is the setting for this rich, often difficult, but ultimately sanctifying work.

If we are to seek authoritative voices on the matter, we need look no further than the Popes. The Magisterium has spoken often and eloquently on the necessity of socialization within the parish. Pope Pius XII, in his encyclical Mystici Corporis Christi, reminds us that the Church is not an abstraction but a living organism, bound together by the love of Christ. He writes, “The Church, like a great body, is composed of many members.” Just as a human body cannot function if its members are severed from one another, so too does the Church falter when its members isolate themselves from one another. A limb severed from the body withers and dies; so too does a Catholic who isolates himself from his parish. This image of the Church as the Body of Christ emphasizes the fundamental interconnectedness of the faithful. Each member, no matter how insignificant they may seem, plays an essential role in the life of the Church.

Pope St. John Paul II, that tireless apostle of human dignity, urged Catholics to build true communities within their parishes. In Christifideles Laici, he writes, “The parish is not principally a structure, a territory, or a building, but rather, the ‘family of God,’ a community of the faithful.” The parish is not a mere institution; it is a living, breathing family, bound together by the love of Christ. It is within this family that faith is nurtured, charity is practiced, and souls are strengthened for the trials of the world. The parish is meant to be a place where we grow in our love for God and one another, and where we learn to bear one another’s burdens in true Christian charity. Pope Benedict XVI, with his characteristic theological precision, reminds us that faith is not a solitary journey. “Being Christian is not the result of an ethical choice or a lofty idea, but the encounter with an event, a person, which gives life a new horizon and a decisive direction.” The person, of course, is Christ. And where does this encounter take place? In the parish, among fellow believers, in the shared experience of worship, in the exchange of smiles after Mass, in the humble camaraderie of the parish potluck. It is here, within the community, that we encounter Christ most fully.

And now we turn to Chesterton, that great apostle of common sense and joyous orthodoxy. If he were to speak on the importance of socialization with fellow parishioners, he would likely begin with a joke, perhaps something about how most people prefer their neighbors in theory rather than in reality. And yet, he would argue, therein lies the very point. The parish, like the family, is not something we choose; it is something given to us. Chesterton was keenly aware of the paradoxical nature of life, and he understood that it is precisely in embracing the absurdity and messiness of parish life that we find the deepest joys. The Church is a community of saints and sinners, of the pious and the peculiar, and this diversity is not a hindrance to holiness but an opportunity for grace.

Chesterton would remind us that it is precisely in the humor and messiness of parish life that we encounter grace. A parish is not meant to be a collection of like-minded individuals who all agree on every matter of taste and temperament. It is a divine comedy, a collection of saints and sinners, of the pious and the peculiar. To socialize within one’s parish is to embrace this comedy, to recognize that holiness is found not in escaping others, but in loving them. It is in this chaotic, unpredictable environment that God’s grace often works most powerfully. He would also, no doubt, delight in the paradox that those who seek to avoid their parish communities in the name of spiritual purity often become less charitable, not more so. “The man who lives in a small community lives in a much larger world,” Chesterton once quipped. The small community of the parish, with all its trials and triumphs, expands the soul far more than the vast but empty solitude of modern anonymity. It is within the parish that we learn to love our neighbor not as an abstract ideal but as a real, often flawed person, and it is here that we are challenged to grow in holiness.

To be Catholic is to be communal. To be Christian is to love one’s neighbor, not in theory, but in truth. The local parish is the primary battleground where this love is tested, where virtues are forged, where the faith is lived. Thomistic philosophy, Salesian wisdom, and papal guidance all point to the same reality: man is not meant to be alone—and certainly not in his spiritual life. The parish is where we learn to put our faith into practice, where we serve one another, and where we encounter Christ in the face of our brothers and sisters. If we are to take the Gospel seriously, we must take the parish seriously. And if we are to take the parish seriously, we must take each other seriously. So let us put aside our excuses, step out of our self-imposed silos, and embrace the wonderful, maddening, sanctifying gift of socializing with our fellow parishioners. For in them, we do not merely encounter humanity; we encounter Christ Himself. Each conversation, each act of kindness, each moment of shared prayer is an opportunity to encounter the living Christ and grow in holiness. The road to Heaven, as we know, is not a solitary path, but a communal journey and it is paved with the relationships we form along the way, especially within the parish community.