Franciscan at Home

For us catechists, St. John Paul II's "theology of the body" should strike a single, resounding chord in our hearts and minds: "good news!" It is, in essence, the Gospel of Jesus Christ. While St. John Paul II's 133 Wednesday catecheses include a profound application to sexual and marital morality, the application occurs primarily at the end of this series of discourses. As a consummate catechist, St. John Paul II knew that grace perfects nature.[1] It doesn't replace nature nor jump ahead of it. Thus, to truly understand how we should act, we have to first understand who we are and what our purpose is. In other words, the foundation of faith is a correct view of the human person, a correct metaphysics. Before you hurriedly skip to another article because you fear I'm about to launch into the philosophical stratosphere, let me reassure you I am not. Like you, I am a catechist in every pore of my being. I live to communicate the faith to others in a concrete and systematic way. However, I am increasingly convinced that our efforts to pass on the faith often fail to be transformative because we assume others have already adequately answered the key human questions of "Who am I?" and "What is my purpose?" Or, perhaps without realizing it, we have relegated those questions to the realm of psychology and philosophy, as if they are irrelevant to theology and catechetics. In truth, these two questions constitute the core of Christianity. The cataclysmic shock Christianity introduced into history was not its moral teachings; other cultures and religions embraced and taught similar moral norms. Rather, the novelty of Christianity is its illumination of personal identity. Confessions of faith in Jesus' divinity are the highpoints of the Gospels: Peter professes, "You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God" (Mt. 16:16); the centurion at the foot of the cross concludes, "Truly, this man was the Son of God" (Mk. 15:39); St. John declares the purpose of his gospel to be "that you might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God" (Jn. 20:31).

According to the General Directory for Catechesis, “adult catechesis must be given priority.”[1] In fact, the GDC links adult catechesis to the baptismal catechumenate: [Adult catechesis] “involves ‘a post-baptismal catechesis, in the form of a catechumenate...presenting again some elements from the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults with the purpose of allowing a person to grasp and live the immense, extraordinary richness and responsibility received at Baptism.’”[2] Therefore, adult catechesis is not simply a refresher course in content but is permeated by the idea that the life of Baptism (and each of the sacraments) must be lived in maturity. And this requires ongoing formation and support, a “permanent mystagogy.”[3] Therefore, Pope Benedict XVI, in Sacramentum Caritatis, calls for a “mystagogical approach to catechesis, which would lead the faithful to understand more deeply the mysteries being celebrated.”[4] Initiation is ultimately ordered to being one with our Lord in an intimate and eternal communion. Such intimacy requires that we approach Jesus’s Body with love, free from serious sin, and with a reverent disposition. However, many seem to take the reception of Communion lightly in the Church today. Reception of the Eucharist, for many, has become routine, uniform, and even presumed as a right, regardless of canonical standing or state of soul. We know from St. Paul that improper reception of Communion works against its true purpose and rather than deepening our participation in the life of God, it can actually alienate us from him: "Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of profaning the body and blood of the Lord. Let a man examine himself, and so eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgment upon himself" (1 Cor. 11:27-30, RSV).

A SURVEY FOR CATECHISTS U.S. Marines have a code of honor: no one gets left behind—not even the fallen on the battlefield. They are bound together in brotherhood. Their commitment to this code enables Marines to act with courage and valor. Similarly, as baptized Catholics we form a bond as God’s family and pledge to accompany any child of God through conversion. In a culture hostile to the faith, we must exercise Marine-strength courage to remain vigilant for those who fall away. How well are we keeping that pledge? Admittedly, too many baptized and confirmed Catholics fall away from the faith without taking hold of the treasure of our faith and its promise of eternal life. They are dying on the battlefield, spiritually speaking. Statistics in this regard are nothing short of alarming, with Catholics experiencing the greatest net loss due to changes in affiliation.[1] An estimated 70% of young Catholics no longer practice their faith by the time they reach adulthood.[2] Do we strategically think about the way in which our “baptismal training” equips people to survive spiritually in a toxic secular culture? Are we praying vigilantly for their return and going in search of them? One of the reasons that many of our baptized people do not survive with their faith intact is that “basic training” for becoming a disciple—personal conversion to Jesus Christ, personal relationship with him—is a neglected dimension of Catholic formation. Children baptized in infancy come to the parish for catechesis, and we work hard to communicate the content of the faith; but we often fail to put them in touch with—in intimacy with—the person of Jesus Christ, which Pope St John Paul II said is the “definitive aim of catechesis.”[3] In our concern to communicate Christian doctrine effectively, we sometimes overlook the fact that baptized people may not yet know Jesus Christ enough to care about what he taught. In this article, I will set forth a small offering of some principles and practices by which we can create conditions that favor personal conversion amidst the secular culture. This is less about developing new programs (though this can be helpful) than about applying these principles and practices in ministries that already exist. First, I will set forth a number of principles drawn from the teaching of recent popes, who are the architects of the New Evangelization. These will be followed by four kinds of practice.

The election of Pope Francis has brought with it a renewed focus on the attractiveness of the Christian message. There are already two magisterial documents from this pope’s hand offering insights into his vision for catechesis. Perhaps the best known of his observations can be found in Evangelii Gaudium, where he has drawn attention to the fundamental bedrock of what we ought to be passing on—the Kerygma:

Jesus Christ loves you; he gave his life to save you; and now he is living at your side every day to enlighten, strengthen and free you.[1]

The structure is disarmingly simple, and yet it allows us to touch on every important aspect of the Christian life. We are reminded that the foundation of all we do as Christians is the love of Christ. Before every program, prior to any inspirational conference, above all petty politics or personal clashes of any kind, we do what we do because Jesus Christ loves you. This finds its most powerful expression in what Christ did: he gave his life to save you. This is not some distant event that is no longer relevant, for Jesus is living at your side every day—made present mysteriously through the sacraments and made personal through our ongoing dialogue in prayer. Finally, there must be some element of struggle and personal transformation involved in this; for Christ stands by us for a good purpose: to enlighten, strengthen and free you. This is an incredibly powerful summary of what we are trying to pass on to those in our care, by living it out ourselves. It is so important that “all Christian formation consists of entering more deeply into the kerygma.”[2]

The New Evangelization is a call to each person to deepen his or her own faith, have confidence in the Gospel, and possess a willingness to share the Gospel. It is a personal encounter with the person of Jesus, which brings peace and joy. (Disciples Called to Witness, 3)

Does the New Evangelization make you a little bit uncomfortable? Does it feel as if you are moving out into unchartered water? Does it feel as if some of the tools you are comfortable using aren’t adequate anymore? If so, you may be just where God wants you.

I know what they are thinking. Most of the seminarians and lay students that follow my course “Catholic Social Teaching” in our seminary/school of theology begin with the assumption that this is the “social justice” course. Some like this reduction of “Catholic Social Teaching” to “social justice.” Others dread it. Few question it. I savor the guilty pleasure of playing off of this supposition, building it up in crescendo-like fashion, until at last it is obliterated by the logic of the Church’s social documents themselves. I do enjoy this, but I also do this for pedagogical reasons: I want the assumption that Catholic social teaching reduces to social justice so utterly razed in the minds of my students that when it falls it can never rise from the ashes of its ruin. No resurrection here, please.

Social justice is a part of Catholic social teaching, and an important part. However, it is only a part and it cannot be equated with the entirety of Catholic social teaching without doing serious harm to both. Social justice is that form of justice that regulates one’s relationships according to the standards of law. Typically, it is taken to be about society’s larger institutions like business corporations, political structures, and forms of the market. Catholic social teaching, on the other hand, includes social justice and much, much more. Catholic social teaching covers each of our relationships and socializations in general and, most importantly, does so in a manner where the demand of justice (what is due to another) is not the sole focus. This also means the Church’s social teaching can reach to those forms of relationships that in whole or part elude the categories of justice and law, such as the relationship of friendship. The social teaching of the Church is capable of this wide perspective because, first and foremost, it begins not from law, but from God’s Trinitarian love as manifest in Jesus Christ.

And so, this clarification is an important one. Catholic social teaching is not first about the state of one’s nation, and then somehow extended to other realms of life in a secondary, derivative manner. Catholic social teaching is as much about the living room as it about the halls of Congress.

Truth Seekers and Truth Tellers

“You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you odd.”

This quote is attributed to Flannery O’Connor. She was American, Southern and Catholic, an oddity itself in the deep South. She wrote in a style that is characterized as grotesque or gothic, and her characters often have maladies or often encounter messes and bizarre turns of events. Yet in her dark and quirky stories the glory of God often peeks through in profound and astonishing ways. O’Connor was a fiction writer who was fond of paraphrasing Jesus’ claims about truth telling as reflected above in John 8:32: “You shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free” (or “odd” in a Flannery turn of phrase). The truth that Jesus reveals is freeing, but let’s be real; if we actually live this truth we are going to be out of step with our culture, unusual to most of our neighbors and downright strange or “grotesque.” I begin with this quote because if we are not feeling this tension and alienation as catechists, priests and pastoral leaders, then we have probably relegated Jesus to the edge of our lives; and the Truth has little to do with our everyday realities.

Even Pope Francis has been perceived as being odd. His actions are surprising everyone: inside and outside of the Church. The surprise of the “outsiders” is understandable; the surprise of the “insiders” may be more telling. Of course, the “insiders” are all of us, from the highest Vatican official to the most lukewarm parishioner. It seems to me that reflection on our own reaction to Pope Francis’ words and actions may help us be better catechists and help us understand our role as truth seekers and truth tellers.

What follows is a reflection on the impact of the Catechism of the Catholic Church on adult Catholic lay people—lay in both senses of the word: both as the People of God, and as those who are not ‘professional’ in religious matters.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church was published in 1992 (revised in 1997), more than twenty-five years after the close of Vatican II and at a time when many ‘ordinary’ Catholics of good will were experiencing anxiety, uncertainty and a lack of clarity in catechesis. Catechetical practices varied from diocese to diocese and parish to parish. Courses, programs and syllabuses multiplied for use in schools and parishes (some having a shorter working life than the time it took to prepare them). Diocesan centres, religious advisers and theologians (both clerical and lay) increased in numbers, and there was a corresponding increase of workgroups and conferences. Many new initiatives were designed to renew the participation of the laity in mission and to reintroduce the catechumenate of adults, not least RCIA.

A disciple is one who shows discipline—who follows the teaching and example of another. Adam and Eve didn’t like being told what to do and we haven’t changed much since!
Resistance Does Not Equal Error
One of the most important messages I deliver in speaking, teaching etc. is as follows: “Never mistake resistance on your part for error on the Church’s part.” Because we’re all wounded by original sin, it would be surprising if we didn’t struggle occasionally—on our journey of learning the Faith—with a doctrinal or (more likely) a moral teaching of our Church. All too often I hear folks tell me of making the quantum leap from “I’m not sure about that teaching” to “That teaching needs to be reversed. The Church needs to get with the times!”
It’s important that we help those we catechize know that it shouldn’t surprise or disconcert them if they find some aspects of Church teaching, initially at least, to be a hard saying. We should advise them to take their struggle to the Lord in prayer, saying essentially, “Lord I’m struggling with this teaching, but I know that you can neither deceive nor be deceived; and if a change is going to occur, it won’t be in the teaching but rather in me. Please help bring about a change my heart, Lord.” We might point out to our listeners that this prayer might need to be repeated on several occasions—maybe on many.

In this article Dr. William Newton addresses the fundamental philosophical deficiencies in Richard Dawkins’ arguments to “prove” God does not exist.
Dear Patience,

Many thanks for your letter. Yes, I remember you telling me that your father was an armchair atheist. That is why I was so surprised when you said that your mother had bought him a “bible” for his birthday. It took me some time to realize you meant Richard Dawkins’ The God Delusion. Armed with all that new ammunition to throw at you, I guess that made your visit back home more interesting than usual!

Yes, I read that book a while back…with trepidation. I braced myself for an onslaught against our shared faith like a man about to be hit by an intellectual tsunami. I was happily disappointed. Let me explain.

As far as I can see, The God Delusion has two main points. Professor Dawkins’ first point is that it is very improbable that God exists, so improbable that we ought to live as if He didn’t. The second point is that religion is a travesty in the world and we would all be a lot better off intellectually and morally if it were to disappear completely. The second point seems so obviously wrong in the face of universities, hospital systems, humanitarian outreaches and so many more good things that are directly linked to Christianity, but I’ll have to leave a more thorough comment for another occasion and deal with the first thing first.