Franciscan at Home

“The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing . . . to find the place where all the beauty came from.” 

― C. S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold 

While pondering the canvas of the world, I dared to accept the challenge my faith had set before me. The Catholic Church claimed to hold the answers to my endless wonderings, and my insatiable desire would leave no stone unturned. I had to know the truth of which the world’s beauty spoke. The beauty you revealed to me. I was determined to find the perfect answer, the perfect words, the perfect formula for my questions. What I found instead continues to astound me.  

I found a painting. It had the same beginning every painting has. It had an artist, gently and lovingly creating from the depth of his heart. Every brushstroke spoke of his care and devotion for each molecule he made. But I found when the artist painted my story it didn’t begin with my birth. It began at the dawn of time with the first human beings: their inheritance and ultimately their great loss. It continued for thousands of years of triumphs and tragedies. So much of their story echoes my own experience of pain and failure. But the great artist never lifted his brush from the painting. Even with its jagged edges and hard-to-make-out details, the artist maintained his throughline of love with every stroke. 

When you began working in the Church, how many friends did you have who were also serving in ministry? For me, it was several dozen. These youth ministers, Catholic school teachers, missionaries, and seminarians all began their work with so much zeal for the mission ahead of them.

Yet, nearly ten years later, I can count on one hand the number of those friends who are still involved in full-time ministry. Maybe you’ve experienced something similar. Most of these friends of mine devoted several years of their lives to a university formation and tens of thousands of dollars to be trained for effective ministry. Yet, when I talk with former parish employees, the majority of them have fled from parish ministry with plenty of hurt and a noticeable level of bitterness toward their experience.

There’s a few obvious reasons—salary limitations and simply discerning a different calling are common ones. However, I’ve experienced another much more troubling and harmful reason: too often, Catholic parishes are some of the most dysfunctional places to work.

I can say this confidently having worked as a leadership consultant with hundreds of pastors who have told me this themselves, as well as having been an employee at two parishes myself. While a Catholic parish office is meant to be a hub of prayer, evangelization, and true Christian friendship, it is far more common that it is a festering pool for mediocrity, confusion, and frustration. This dynamic begs the question: why? What is causing this exodus from parish ministry?

The biggest reason people leave employment in a parish is not because of issues with liturgy, music, programs, or hospitality—things that often get lots of attention. They leave because the organization is unhealthy and tolerates low standards. Without healthy and clear leadership, the best homily or most dynamic video series will only get you so far. This is completely counterintuitive to almost everything that we are taught in studies and formation! We spend hours and hours crafting plans and reading theology (which are extremely important), yet almost no time learning how to effectively lead the people entrusted to us. When I discuss this with pastors, I can’t tell you the number of them who have incredulously told me, “No one ever teaches you this in seminary!”

Tiredness. Little support. Overwhelm. Dryness in prayer. Lack of fruit.

Anyone who has served in ministry in any capacity for any amount time has likely experienced some stage of exhaustion, disillusionment, or even burnout. The work of ministry in the name of the Lord—be it as a parish catechist, a schoolteacher, a hidden IT worker, or a customer service representative—is demanding. It always carries with it the possibility of losing heart and throwing in the towel completely.

I worked at a Catholic high school for close to a decade, and I have many friends laboring to help young children approach their First Communion and First Reconciliation with reverence. Whether it’s dealing with obstinate parents, baseball tournaments that always seem to take priority over Mass, or even just the plain drag of routine and lack of visible results, the grind of ministry can take a toll. Discouragement can find us all if we aren’t taking the time to sit at the feet of the only one who can provide us with rest and renewal for the work we are called to.

We Can’t Give What We Don’t Have

I’ve always loved St. Paul’s expression, “I will most gladly spend and be spent for your souls” (2 Cor 12:15). There’s true beauty in that sentiment of a life generously lived in service for others, and we rightfully extol the labors of people like St. Teresa of Kolkata for this reason. But I’ve often twisted St. Paul’s words to justify a workaholism that leans on the work of my own hands instead of the God who called me to his vineyard in the first place. “I’ll rest when I’m dead,” I’ve thought to myself, with a not-so-hidden whiff of unholy self-reliance behind those words.

It’s easy to fall into a semi-Pelagian attitude—to work in ministry more like a practical atheist than a disciple trusting in a Father who will come through on his promises. “I got this, God,” we assert. “No one can handle this task but me.” Only recently have I become more aware of a masochistic “savior complex” that might be at work within a deeper part of me. And even if we don’t fully fall into that subtle pride of self-reliance, it’s still easy to feel beaten down by the tsunami of a culture that’s antagonistic to Christianity and by the forces of this world blinding so many of our peers to the Gospel (see 2 Cor 4:4).

I worked as a firefighter for a brief period after college, and one of the lessons hammered into us was to take care of our own oxygen masks before helping others. “You can’t give what you don’t have.” It’s no good to run into a burning building to try and save someone if by my own recklessness or pride I also become unconscious. In Renewed and Received, Ascension Press’s recent resources for First Communion and First Reconciliation prep, my wife Jackie and I emphasize several points of encouragement for catechists and others working in ministry. That pithy advice, “you can’t give what you don’t have,” is an apt expression for the spiritual life, parenting, or any other important labor. We must ensure that the engine we’re running on relies on God and not our own strength.

Sometimes God allows us to falter; sometimes our efforts fail from an earthly perspective. Here, too, we can see God’s mercy at work, ensuring that we don’t fall into a dangerous state of pride. In these moments we can choose to recognize that we can’t “fix” every problem for every student, parishioner, or person we encounter. Jesus is the Savior—we are not.

The vast majority of catechists today take part in this essential ministry in the life and mission of the Church for a simple yet significant reason: they have a passion for handing on our faith, for doing their part to form vibrant, radical disciples of Jesus Christ. They burn with a missionary zeal to lead and accompany others—men, women, families, young adults, teens, and children—ever closer to Jesus in and through his Church (cf. CCC 4). They have been captivated by him and have entered into relationship with him themselves, and in turn they want others to experience what they have experienced: the beauty and power that comes from knowing the one true God and Christ Jesus, whom he has sent.[i]

Many catechists perform this work as a volunteer in their parish for years or even decades. In some cases, however, those with a passion for catechetical ministry find themselves not engaging in the work of catechesis directly but rather with a primary focus of forming and leading those who do. This, of course, is the parish or diocesan catechetical leader.

The Responsibility of the Catechetical Leader

It is an honor, a privilege, and a great responsibility to serve as a catechetical leader, and those who take on this role recognize the importance of the part they are playing in the mission of the Church to make disciples (see Mt 28:19–20). To be able to deepen the faith, skill, and ability of catechists in a parish or diocese is a special kind of gift.

For some catechetical leaders, though, serving in this important role can, over time, take on an unexpected weight: the administrative duties and responsibilities the work entails. In some cases, that weight even becomes a burden.

Again, most catechists’ deep desire and joy is to be able to participate in the Church’s mission to make disciples. But most catechetical leaders’ participation in that mission isn’t as “direct” as is the typical catechist’s, or at least not in the way that most of those involved in catechetical ministry imagine it. The role of the catechetical leader oftentimes entails much more “desk work” and many more meetings, phone calls, emails, and so on. In other words, what many people think of as administrative work. And because this isn’t necessarily what someone with a zeal for catechesis signed up for, the excitement and enthusiasm for the work can diminish and be replaced with burden and burnout.

I began professional work in the Church at the age of eighteen. I had experienced a profound personal conversion in high school, had taken my first steps as a missionary disciple, and was growing in the Christian life. So, my pastor offered me a job as a parish youth minister. 

Mark your calendar for the upcoming 2024 Steubenville Conferences for adults, held on our beautiful campus in Steubenville, OH. Registration will open in late January, 2024. NOTE: The St. John Bosco Conference for Evangelization & Catechesis is being postponed until summer of 2025 because of our involvement with the National Eucharistic Congress. Hope to see you there! Questions? Call 740-283-6315.

Part Seven: the Compendium of the Catechism of the Catholic Church (2005) and the United States Catholic Catechism for Adults (2006)

This series of articles has explored an extraordinary fifty-year period in the history of the Church’s catechetical mission. We have already looked briefly at the outcomes of the International Catechetical Study Weeks, the General Catechetical Directory (1971), Evangelii Nuntiandi (1974) and Catechesi Tradendae (1979), Sharing the Light of Faith: National Catechetical Directory of Catholics in the United States (1979), The Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults (1987) and the Catechism of the Catholic Church (1993), the Catechetical Committees of the US Conference of Catholic Bishops 1992– 2012, and the General Directory of Catechesis (1997) and the National Directory for Catechesis (2005). In this final article of the series, we will turn our attention to the Compendium of the Catechism of the Catholic Church (2005) and the United States Catholic Catechism for Adults (2006).

Compendium of the Catechism of the Catholic Church (2005)

The contract between the Holy See and the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB)  that governed the publication and distribution of the Catechism of the Catholic Church in the United States specifically prohibited any abridgement or synopsis of the Catechism. But only 13 years after its promulgation by Pope John Paul II, Pope Benedict XVI approved and promulgated the Compendium of the Catechism of the Catholic Church. While the reception of the Catechism of the Catholic Church was generally positive, almost from the beginning some had asked for the publication of a more concise formulation of its content. A formal proposal for such a compendium emerged from the participants at the International Catechetical Congress in October 2002. Pope John Paul II accepted the proposal and, in February 2003, entrusted the work of preparing such a compendium to a commission of cardinals presided over by Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger. During the process, a draft of the Compendium was circulated to all the members of the College of Cardinals and to the presidents of episcopal conferences throughout the world. Both the concept of a compendium and the draft text of the Compendium were received and evaluated favorably.

Pope John Paul II died while the draft of the Compendium was being finalized and the presiding officer of the Commission of Cardinals for the Compendium, Joseph Ratzinger, was elected his successor. In the first year of his pontificate, Pope Benedict XVI presented the Church with what he termed “a faithful and sure synthesis of the Catechism of the Catholic Church. It contains, in concise form, all the essential and fundamental elements of the Church’s faith, thus constituting, as my Predecessor had wished, a kind of vademecum which allows believers and non-believers alike to behold the entire panorama of the Catholic faith.”[1]

The Compendium was not intended to stand alone or to replace the Catechism of the Catholic Church but rather make the latter more widely accessible and better understood. In fact, the Compendium is replete with marginal references to the Catechism. In that sense, the Compendium constantly points to the Catechism and emphasizes its primacy as the fundamental text for catechesis today. In the introduction to the Compendium, Cardinal Ratzinger wrote: “There are three principal characteristics of the Compendium: the close reliance on the Catechism of the Catholic Church; the dialogical format; [and] the use of artistic images in the catechesis.”[2]

The Compendium was structured along the same lines as its parent. It has the same four major divisions as the Catechism: the profession of faith, the celebration of the Christian mystery, life in Christ, and Christian prayer. The very words of the Compendium, like those of the Catechism, also seek to promote a common language of the faith in which people of every nation can discuss its content.

In a departure from the structure of the Catechism, however, the Compendium is organized in a dialogical format. A dialogue, or a series of questions and answers, is an ancient catechetical genre for the presentation of the faith used by some of the Church’s most effective catechists and most widely used catechetical instruments throughout her history. This methodology sets up a virtual conversation between a master and a disciple that encourages the disciple to discover the truths of the faith, reflect on them, and understand them more fully. It was adopted by the editorial commission because by its very nature the question and answer format emphasizes what is essential and lends itself to brevity. In all, there are 598 questions and responses in the Compendium.

Within the process of the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults (RCIA), the Rite of Election is a powerful liturgical moment. The Church rejoices at the imminent birth of new Christians, praying for the Elect as they draw even closer to the Lord in preparation for receiving the Sacraments of Initiation. The rite is also a culmination of learning about the Church—it is the point when catechumens formally declare their desire to enter the Church. The Rite of Election can serve as a valuable opportunity for reflection for those of us who are parish catechetical leaders, reminding us too that communion must form the context for catechesis.

This intention of the Rite of Election is especially pronounced in the modified wording of the Rite of Election for children over the age of seven. In this version of the Rite of Election there is a  profound moment when godparents are asked to formally declare the preparedness of the children through a series of questions: “Have these children shown themselves to be sincere in their desire for baptism, confirmation, and the Eucharist?” “Have they listened well to the word of God?” “Have they tried to live as his faithful followers?” “Have they taken part in this community’s life of prayer and service?”[1] While these questions are asked about the children, they have implications for the godparents and parents, and, by extension, us catechists as well. The questions point to the fact that becoming a disciple of Christ does not happen in a vacuum.

An Integral Part of Discipleship and Catechesis

The Directory for Catechesis, quoting Pope Francis, teaches that “The faith is professed, celebrated, expressed, and lived above all in community: ‘The communitarian dimension is not just a “frame,” an “outline,” but an integral part of the Christian life, of witness and of evangelization.’”[2] We see this implied in the questions asked in the Rite of Election. The first three questions could technically be discerned individually by the godparents alone but are more richly lived and discerned within the parish community. The fourth question necessarily includes the broader parish community. We as parish catechetical leaders have an incredible opportunity to pray for and foster this community within the programs we lead.

Practically speaking, parish catechetical leaders are often the first real contact a family seeking the sacraments through RCIA has with the parish community. We can guide this family into the community in not merely a superficial way but one that allows for friendship and apprenticeship in the Christian life. We become the gatekeepers in some sense, with a duty to bring those coming to the Church into the community of the parish. And, may I argue, we also have the mission to, under the guidance of the pastor, foster and encourage deep Christian community for all. The connections we facilitate can potentially allow catechumens to receive from and enrich a community for generations.

“Have you heard something? Let it die with you. Be brave, it will not make you burst!” – Sirach 19:10

Though I tell people that I’m a theologian (which is technically true), I’m really a Church historian. I was attracted to the study of Church history starting in high school because I was interested in how people, stories, and examples from our history should inform our teaching, evangelization, interpretation, and internal Church decision-making now. The major question for the catechist is how properly to use the past in our present efforts. In the midst of the National Eucharistic Revival, this question is very relevant, as there are Eucharistic devotions, teachings, and movements that most people have never encountered and that, at first glance, might seem strange or shocking. I would like to present a guiding principle for using history to spur Eucharistic belief and devotion, followed by three examples from history that show this principle in action and that I believe can bear fruit now.

Historical Moments

The most common mistake we make when we discover something interesting or edifying from history is to say, “look what they did back then; we should do it now.” This approach, which comes from the excitement of discovering something of value, neglects the importance of cultural and social context, as well as theological development. Instead of doing that, let’s present historical episodes, ideas, and developments as what they are: unique moments when the Church, or a segment of the Church, realized something it hadn’t realized before or reacted to a new challenge. When we see a teaching or practice arising in its own context, we can learn more and be inspired by its original importance and meaning—like the background of a painting allowing you to see the outline and the details of the foreground.

There are also examples from history of things we have forgotten or have allowed to lie dormant. While it’s true that some practices or emphases should be allowed to fade with the social and cultural situations that originally housed them, others speak to ongoing realities. It takes wisdom, discernment, prayer, and patience in this area to determine the difference between the two.

Eucharistic Controversies

Eucharistic belief develops. This does not mean that we believe “new” things; rather, it means that our understanding of the full truth, which is inexhaustible in this life and always remains partially concealed, continues to grow like a tree from an acorn or an adult from an embryo. There have been moments in history when the Church first “saw” something in a new or different way. In catechesis, these moments can draw our attention to the how and why of orthodoxy and orthopraxy.  One such moment that I like to use in catechesis is the argument over the Eucharist that took place between two ninth-century monks named Ratramnus and Paschasius. The question they debated was whether Christ’s body, seated at the right hand of the Father, was identical to the Body that we receive in the Eucharist. In other words, are they exactly the same body with the same properties?