Franciscan at Home

Kyle Neilson helps us to find ways to awaken Catholics to their baptismal gifts.

The Spiderman movie provides an evocative analogy for Baptism. Most of us know the story: after Peter Parker is bitten by a genetically-modified spider, he discovers he possesses strange new powers: he can shoot webbing from his wrist, his reflexes and eye-sight are uncommonly sharp, he can climb walls, and more.

I was baptized in the Protestant tradition at the age of 18, and experienced its effects in dramatic ways. To offer but one example, prior to my Baptism I habitually treated my exemplary parents very poorly. Within a few weeks following my Baptism, I realized the gravity of my behaviour; I understood the fourth commandment: ‘Honour your father and mother.’ I also experienced a new desire and capacity to love my parents. After a sincere apology, we enjoyed a beautiful reconciliation and started afresh.

At the time, this change in me surprised all of us. Only years later, after becoming a Catholic, did I come to understand that such a change was, in fact, par for the course. Like Peter Parker, I discovered powers given ‘from above.’ The virtue of faith allowed me to grasp the truth about honouring one’s parents, even though I knew about the commandment since childhood. Through charity, I was given a new heart for my mother and father. I possessed an immediate growing desire and power to love them.

Dr. Alan Schreck begins his commentary on the first part of Pope John Paul II’s Encyclical Letter Ecclesia de Eucharistia, which teaches us of the primacy of the gift of the Eucharist for us individually and as members of the Body of Christ.

‘The Church draws her life from the Eucharist’, which is ‘the heart of the mystery of the Church.’ (EE 1). It is to draw the Church more deeply into this mystery that Pope John Paul II issued his final encyclical letter on Holy Thursday of 2003, a day that the Holy Father traditionally issued a letter to all priests. But on the twenty-fifth anniversary of his pontificate, John Paul wished to ‘involve the whole Church move fully in this Eucharistic reflection, also as a way of thanking the Lord for the gift of the Eucharist and the priesthood’ (7). Especially in this ‘Year for the Priest,’ it is fitting that we should all reflect on this great gift of the Lord to his Church.

The Eucharist, ‘the source and summit of the Christian life’ (cf. Vatican II, Lumen Gentium, 11), is one way that Jesus fulfills his promise: ‘Lo, I am with you always to the close of the age’ (Mt 28: 20). The Eucharist ‘contains the Church’s entire spiritual wealth: Christ himself, our Passover and our living bread.’ Christ’s own flesh is ‘now made living and life-giving by the Holy Spirit’ (Vatican II, Decree on the Ministry and Life of Priests, 5).

In this article Stratford Caldecott explores the faith by which we enter the twelve-gated City of Revelation, the faith that is the beginning of that Light by which we will see what the City contains, and above all the Lamb enthroned at its centre.

The first official summary (or ‘symbol,’ as it was called) of the Christian faith was a simple affirmation: Jesus is Lord. We find this in the Gospels and the Letters of Saint Paul. What we know as the Apostles’ Creed is a slightly later summary, enabling Christians to affirm not only their faith in Christ, but some of the main implications of that faith. Most Christians are also familiar with the so-called Creed of Nicaea, which is later and more elaborate still, being designed to refute the various christological heresies (i.e. mistakes about the nature of Christ) that had arisen in the early centuries of faith.

A Creed is more than a summary of faith, of what is to be believed. Like Scripture, it has a liturgical character. To recite it in the context of the liturgy is a ritual action, a celebration that aligns us with its divine source, making us receptive to grace. As Martin Mosebach puts it, the Creed ‘considered as a liturgical prayer, is not a collection of dogmas that were defined at various councils (and some of which were imposed by main force) but a means whereby the individual plunges once again into the purifying freshness of baptism, the presence of the communion of saints, the Church-creating power of the Holy Trinity.’[i]

In this issue, On the Spot looks at the misunderstandings, which often arise concerning the Sacrament of Ordination, and offers suggestions to enrich our catechesis.

‘Today the word “ordination” is reserved for the sacramental act which integrates a man into the order of bishops, presbyters, or deacons, and goes beyond a simple election, designation, delegation, or institution by the community, for it confers a gift of the Holy Spirit that permits the exercise of a “sacred power”...which can come only from Christ himself through his Church.’ (CCC 1538)

Two frequently heard groups of comments, which arise from two different age ranges, can summarise what would appear to be common misunderstandings about the priesthood, its nature and function.

‘What does Father do all day? Isn’t it boring spending all the time praying and reading the Bible? Does he have another job for weekdays?’
‘Well, the priesthood is dying out. The Church is beginning to see that lay people can do everything a priest does. The Holy Spirit is changing things so we don't need priests; hence hardly any priests being ordained now.’

In the second part of his explanation of John Paul II’s teaching on Faith and Reason, Alan Schreck highlights the importance of philosophy for a sound catechetics and theology.

In the first three chapters of this encyclical letter, Fides et Ratio, Pope John Paul II has affirmed that the quest for truth, especially the truth about ultimate realities such as God, can be attained through reason (e.g. philosophy) and by faith in what God reveals to us, which achieves its climax in the person of Jesus Christ. These two sources of truth are not opposed, but together ‘lead us to truth in all its fullness’ (34).

Chapter IV of Fides et Ratio explores more fully the relationship between faith and reason as it has developed in history. Classical, pre-Christian philosophy sought to ‘purify’ human ideas about God of ‘mythological elements’ and ‘provide a rational foundation forbelief in the divinity’ (36). This is why some of the early Church fathers appreciated and even employed some forms of classical philosophy ‘which offered new ways of proclaiming and understanding the God of Jesus Christ’ (36). However, some Christians like Tertullian rejected philosophy as ‘outmoded in addressing questions about life’s meaning since Christian revelation gave direct and satisfying answers to them’ (37). Others, like St. Justin and Clement of Alexandria, found important truths in philosophy that could be employed to explain and defend the Christian faith (38). Origen employed the philosophy of Plato to shape his theological arguments against Celsus and others who criticized Christianity for being ‘irrational’ (39). Later church Fathers, including the Cappadocians and St Augustine, ‘Christianized Platonic and Neo-Platonic thought.’ St. Augustine produced ‘the first great synthesis of philosophy and theology,’ unsurpassed in Western thought for centuries (40). Pope John Paul summarizes the accomplishment of the early Church Fathers of both East and West: ‘They fully welcomed reason which was open to the absolute, and infused it with the richness drawn from revelation’ (41). Those authors distinguished elements in various philosophies that were consonant with revelation and those that were not.

In this article Fr. Michael A. Caridi givse us a reflection on the primordial bond and intrinsic link between the Eucharist and the Priesthood.

Shortly after being named Archbishop of Saigon in 1975, Francois-Xavier Nguyen van Thuan was arrested by the Communist authorities and imprisoned for the next thirteen years. In his account, Five Loaves and Two Fish, Cardinal Thuan tells of offering clandestine Masses while in prison, using meager amounts of bread and wine that had been smuggled in. After Mass, he would fashion a tiny container from the paper of cigarette boxes in which to reserve the Blessed Sacrament for later adoration. He would secretly carry the makeshift tabernacle with the consecrated Host within the breast pocket of his shirt, close to his heart.

While, over the course of those thirteen years in prison, the Communists time and again relentlessly tried to break the Cardinal and strip him of his emotional, spiritual and moral dignity, they couldn’t. Why? Because his was a priestly dignity, a dignity not based upon comfort, position, or honor, but on the fact that Jesus Christ is always close to the priest’s heart – an intense union stemming primarily from his ability to make Jesus present in the celebration of the Most Holy Eucharist, a bond that offers the priest the necessary strength to endure all the demands his vocation implies.

Simply put, Cardinal Thuan survived his years of imprisonment because he could find a way to offer Mass, thus keeping Jesus near to his heart.

But how is this authentic experience of grace appropriated without the negative side effect of disaffection from communion with the Roman Catholic Church and casting one’s hermeneutical loyalty in the arena of biblical fundamentalism? The answer is to be found in the early Patristic practice of uniting the spiritual sense, a highly personalized appropriation of the biblical message, with the living tradition of the community of faith.[ii] We shall begin by first noting some of the features of fundamentalism, both biblical fundamentalism and a peculiar manifestation of fundamentalism among Catholics.

It is all too easy to lose track of the ultimate reason as to why we catechize. What is the purpose of it all?

Our beloved late Pope John Paul II proclaimed the reason for catechesis profoundly, yet simply, in a single sentence: ‘The definitive aim of catechesis is to put people not only in touch but in communion, in intimacy, with Jesus Christ: only He can lead us to the love of the Father in the Spirit and make us share in the life of the Holy Trinity.’ (Catechesi tradendae 5)

We want people to encounter Christ. We do not want our students only to accumulate facts about the life of Jesus; we also want them to have a personal relationship with the incarnate Son of God.

In this issue Dr Alan Schreck introduces John Paul’s great Encyclical on the relationship between faith and reason, Fides et Ratio.

It is only a little more than a decade ago that Pope John Paul II issued his thirteenth encyclical letter Fides et Ratio, on September 14, 1998. The letter opens with an unforgettable image: ‘Faith and reason are like two wings on which the human spirit rises to the contemplation of truth.’ Yet this is spoken to a ‘one-winged’ world in which faith is increasingly seen as unreasonable and unnecessary to apprehend truth and to live a good life. Nonetheless, the Holy Father completes this opening statement with a clear statement of faith:

‘…God has placed in the human heart a desire to

know the truth – in a word, to know himself –so that by

knowing and loving God, men and women may also

come to the fullness of truth about themselves. (Cf. Ex33:18; Ps 27:89,63:23; Jn 17:8;1Jn 3:2)’

This premise is continued in the encyclical’s introduction, entitled ‘Know Yourself.’

He observes that all the great world religions grapple with the basic human questions about good and evil, the meaning of our existence, and the possibility of an ‘after life.’ The Catholic Church, the Pope says, has a special diakonia or service of truth, which it undertakes especially in the proclamation of Jesus Christ as ‘the way and the truth, and the life’ (Jn 14:6) (1.2). Yet, our understanding of faith will remain partial until ‘the final Revelation of God’ at the second coming of Jesus Christ.

Church teaching helps us to see how to personally appropriate the Scriptures as living sources for our lives and for our catechesis.

John Paul II’s apostolic exhortation Catechesi Tradendae (CT) begins by underscoring the christocentricity of catechesis. Since a Person, the Person of the Lord, is at the heart of catechesis, then the “primary and essential object of catechesis is… ‘the mystery of Christ.’” Moreover, this means that “the aim of catechesis is to put people not only in touch but in communion, in intimacy, with Jesus Christ: only he can lead us to the love of the Father in the Spirit and make us share in the life of the Holy Trinity” (CT §5).

A deeper understanding of the mystery of Christ is tied significantly to the Word of God, as it is articulated in Scripture and Tradition. The catechumen and catechesis itself are to be “impregnated” with the word of Scripture (CT §§20, 27).[i] The Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC) reinforces and deepens these points by teaching that “Christ … is the Father’s one, perfect, and unsurpassable Word…[in whom] he has said everything” (CCC §65) and that “through all the words of Sacred Scripture, God speaks only one single Word, his one Utterance in whom he expresses himself completely” (CCC §102).[ii]

Given the correlation between the living Word of God, Christ, and the Scriptures, it is not uncommon for catechumens and catechists to tell of reading or hearing Scripture in a way that speaks directly to their hearts and the circumstances of their lives. Those who have received this grace testify to the intense sense of meaning that is found in the personal appropriation of Scripture that now fills, spiritually feeds, and directs their lives. The Scriptures are for them no “dead letter” (CCC §111; cf. 2 Cor 3:6) but the living word of God (Hebrews 4:12).

As wonderful as this experience is, it raises two questions. First, how may we explain theologically the experience of personal appropriation of Scripture for one’s life? Second, how is such an interpretation of Scripture deeply personal and yet not private so as not to succumb to the literalism of biblical fundamentalism?