Franciscan at Home

Telling the life and story of Jesus is central for the learning of our students.

One of the privileges of a religion teacher or catechist is that of being a teller of the story of Jesus. So conscious was Sunday school teacher, Joseph Bayly, of this honour that he simply called the book he wrote about his teaching experiences, I Love to Tell the Story. The inspiration for this title came from an evangelical hymn of the same name that contained the uplifting lines: ‘I love to tell the story of unseen things above, of Jesus and his glory, of Jesus and his love. I love to tell the story because I know its true; it satisfies my longings as nothing else can do.’ This title captures well the mission of religion teachers as they endeavour to form the faith of young believers. Consciousness of oneself as a teller of the story of Jesus can be energizing. However, telling the story is but part of a sequence in the journey of the religious educator. The first step is that of hearing the story. But even this, on its own, is not enough. It needs to be authenticated by a genuine attempt to live the story. These three elements of hearing, living and knowing need closer exploration.

Durante muchos años, me preguntaba por qué hablábamos de ser salvados por la Pasión de Nuestro Señor. Me parecía tan raro decir eso. Se me hacía más fácil comprender cómo los milagros y sanaciones, y la enseñanza divina de Jesús podrían ser importantes para nuestra salvación. Sus milagros nos revelan su Divinidad y nos ayudan a hacer un acto de fe en El, mientras sus enseñanzas nos guían en el camino hacia el Cielo. Y sabemos, por supuesto, que es efectivamente toda la vida de Cristo – su Encarnación, Nacimiento, Ministerio, Muerte y Resurrección – que nos salva. Sin embargo, ¿por qué será que hablamos de su Pasión como enfoque y núcleo de esta obra redentora?

Inicialmente lo que me ayudó a comprender algo de esto fue a través de un libro descomunal, The Stature of Waiting (La estatura de la espera) de W.H. Hanstone. El autor se había interesado en un detalle insólito de los Evangelios: el hecho que la palabra griega para describir la actuación de Judas no era la palabra ordinaria para expresar una traición, sino una palabra distintiva, ‘paradidomi’, que significa ‘entregar’. De las treinta y tres ocasiones en que se menciona su acción, solo una vez se refiere a Judas como traidor de parte de uno de los Evangelistas. La consistencia con la que se utiliza el verbo ‘entregar’ nos señala lo central e importante que es este concepto. ‘El fue entregado’ marca claramente el inicio de la Pasión.

For many years, I used to wonder why we speak of being saved by the Passion of Our Lord. It seemed an odd thing to say. I could more easily see how the miracles and healings, and the divine teaching of Jesus, might be important for our salvation. His miracles reveal his divinity to us and help us to make an act of faith in him, while his teachings guide us on the path to heaven. And we know, of course, that it is indeed the whole of Christ’s life – his Incarnation, birth, ministry, death and resurrection – that saves us. Still, why is it that we speak of his Passion as the focus and centre of this saving work?

I was initially helped to understand something of this through reading a remarkable book, The Stature of Waiting by W.H.Vanstone. The author had become interested in a strange detail in the Gospels: the fact that the Greek word used to describe Judas’ act was not the usual word for betrayal, but a distinctive word, ‘paradidomi’, meaning ‘to hand over’. Of thirty-three occasions when Judas’ deed is mentioned, only once does a Gospel writer refer to Judas as a ‘traitor’. The consistency with which the verb ‘handed over’ is used points us to the centrality and to the importance of this concept. ‘He was handed over’ clearly marks the beginning of the Passion.

‘Did you get to meet the Pope’, is the question I am most often asked after people discover that I spent eight months as a long term volunteer for World Youth Day 2005 in Cologne, Germany. Most people expect my most memorable moment during this time to be standing at the altar during the final Mass with Pope Benedict. Or, perhaps spending the night with close friends on the field after the Saturday night Vigil; maybe even the hours of work spent at a computer screen answering emails and phone calls in a madcap attempt for organization before the great days arrived.

Instead, I find myself going back to a tiny chapel in the basement of St. Andreas Church, which just happened to be the crypt of St. Albert the Great. Every weekday morning in this quiet, peaceful place, one could find a small group of worshipers from all around the world, taking the time to prepare themselves for their often strenuous day in the World Youth Day office, and uniting themselves in prayer with the hundreds of thousands of young people and their catechists who would be joining them together with the Vicar of Christ, for a few short days in August.

World Youth Day is without a doubt a powerful and grace-filled experience. Even those who attend simply because they are curious and live nearby will be blessed by the outpouring of grace and the pure joy surrounding the occasion. But for those who are pilgrims instead of spectators, privileged believers, who have carefully prepared themselves for this great experience, World Youth Day offers a life altering call to enter into the mission of our beloved Catholic Church.