Franciscan at Home

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.

While I am indeed grateful for Catholics United for the Faith and for Vatican II’s summons of the laity to their active apostolate in the Church and the world, it might be helpful to recall what John Paul II went on to write in his Apostolic Exhortation about “temptations” faced by the laity after Vatican II (#2),

“At the same time… the post-conciliar path of the lay faithful has not been without its difficulties and dangers. In particular, two temptations can be cited which they have not always known how to avoid: the temptation of being so strongly interested in Church services and tasks that some fail to become actively engaged in their responsibilities in the professional, social, cultural and political world; and the temptation of legitimizing the unwarranted separation of faith from life, that is a separation of the Gospel’s acceptance from the actual living of the Gospel in various situations in the world.”

Although John Paul II made these remarks some years ago, do we not still see these temptations today? If these temptations are not faced squarely, if the laity fail to engage in the battle within of conforming their daily lives with the truth and charity of the Gospel, holiness will not happen. Let’s look a little closer at the battle each temptation poses.

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.

The lady sitting next to me at one of our parish sessions for adults clearly felt comfortable talking about her own Christian faith. She leaned over to me. ‘I was baptised a Catholic,’ she confided, ‘but I left the Church after some bad experiences. I never really stopped believing in God, and a couple of years ago I started going to a house church. I really learned what grace is there – something I never learned in the Catholic Church. Still, I’ve come back to the Church now…’
On the Spot highlights some of the complex positions, questions and comments experienced by catechists, teachers and parents. It outlines the knowledge necessary to be faithful to Church teaching and which will best help those we teach who call us to account for the hope that is in us (cf. I Peter 3:15).

Amette Ley looks at how we teach the Catholic understanding of the life of grace.

At that point the chatting groups were called to order and I never heard why she had moved from her house church back to our parish. The route from being a cradle Catholic, to finding a new sense of one’s faith through a Protestant denomination, and then returning to the Catholic Church, is not unusual, of course. But the whole experience of this lady seemed to me a good illustration of the confusion in many minds of how the Church understands the life of grace, and how we go about possessing it. Bringing people to understand this is, of course, at the very core of what catechesis must achieve.

Mariette Ulrich wonders whether she’ll be able to do anything about her lack of interest in television this Lent. The moral of this story highlights the absurdity of our addiction to television and our poor excuses for lack of addiction to the Word. Wouldn't it be great if the reality was reverse?

Somehow our faults and failings seem more glaring during Lent; one of mine is that I spend too much time reading Scripture and too little time watching television. I know that even fifteen or twenty minutes of TV a day would be better than nothing at all, but most days, I just don't get around to it. I realize there are many educational, informative, and uplifting programs on television, but even so, I tend to go for weeks at a time without so much as picking up my remote control. Isn't it pathetic when you have to dust it off before using it?

I really ought to know the networks and channels from memory, and be able to find a given program at the right time, but I must admit I'm deficient in this area. Rather than flip indecisive­ly through the listings, I usually give up and leave the set turned off. To be perfectly honest, I get a little annoyed with those TV thumpers who can quote channel, program, and time‑slot at the drop of a hat. I feel intimidated by their ability, and I'd never dare debate television with them; they know their stuff too well.

Besides a lack of time (being a very busy mother), part of my problem is that I don't know where to begin: do I start watching TV at dawn and plow through every commercial, show, and newscast, or do I simply select programs here and there? ‘Watching it all’ seems a huge task.

I do not always find forgiving easy. Indeed, I sometimes find it a real struggle. Yet I know that if I am to follow the teaching and example of Jesus, I must forgive everything, always, and unconditionally. This is, of course, only possible through the grace of God.

Let us look at the teaching of Jesus and the New Testament. Jesus taught us to pray: ‘And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors’ (Matthew 6:12). We are to forgive ‘seventy times seven’ (Matthew 18:22), which means we are to forgive indefinitely. And Jesus gave us the perfect example by forgiving those who put him to death: ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do’ (Luke 23:43).

There is also a beautiful passage in St. Paul: ‘As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.’(Colossians 3:12-13).

We are the first victims of our unforgiveness. When we do not forgive, or in so far as we do not forgive fully, we do not experience the peace and joy which Jesus wishes to give us. Moreover, unforgiveness, which is a spiritual sickness, can also affect our physical health. Statistics show us that during the eighteen months after the departure or death of a spouse, when there can be much unforgiveness, bitterness, resentment and anger, people are considerably more likely to get cancer than at other times.

In July 2008, Fr. Cash addressed a group of 300 catechetical leaders at the St. John Bosco Conference in Steubenville, Ohio. This article is based upon that talk.

My brothers and sisters, if we are going to transform the world; if we are going to set this world on fire with the love of God; if we are going to claim the world for Christ, then the spiritual heart of our ministry needs to be that we know and deeply experience the Lord Jesus Christ’s profound love for us!

One of Pope John Paul II’s constant refrains in his Apostolic Exhortation, Ecclesia in America, is that we must have a personal encounter with the Risen Jesus, like Paul, if we are to make possible conversion in our modern atheistic culture, which has become dead to faith in God. Pope John Paul was not saying anything new. Pope Paul VI said in Evangelization in the Modern World that what the Church and the world needs now is witnesses—the Greek being martyria—witnesses who know the love of Christ. This is an imperative for catechists.

St Paul can help us to understand how suffering can be a grace.

Two questions have plagued the minds of Christians and non-Christians alike: Why is there suffering? Why does God allow suffering? In St. Paul’s writings we find profound insights into the meaning of suffering. Pope John Paul II explains why St. Paul writes so much on suffering: ‘The Apostle shares his own discovery and rejoices in it because of all those whom it can help—just as it helped him—to understand the salvific meaning of suffering’ (Salvifici Doloris, 1).

The Complete, Compact Catechist Prayerbook

Reflecting on Sr. Mary Michael’s article in this issue of The Sower, “The Spirituality of the Catechist”, I realized that many of us involved in catechesis identify with the “hallmarks of the catechist spirituality”. However, we may also contend that we don’t have time to go to daily Mass or pray the Liturgy of the Hours, and some of our volunteer catechists may not even know what the Liturgy of the Hours is. Does that mean we are “disqualified” or “unqualified” as catechists? No, it just means we need to be more creative.

When I was Confirmation Coordinator of our parish, in the pre-children stage of my life, Mass and meditation were part of my daily routine. Now, married with six children ages 10 to 2, my time is no longer my own. My path to holiness comes through being a wife, mother, housekeeper, laundress, tutor, chauffer, referee, cook and catechist, not to mention a catechetical publications director. In this day and age we are all multi-tasking, but this busy activity of doing God’s will needs to flow from the “wellspring of worship”, as Sr. Michael noted.

The monthly publication Magnificat has been the creative resource that allows me to continue to pray weekday Mass, without being physically present in the pew. More than a missalette, Magnificat is also the busy layman’s Liturgy of the Hours, giving an abbreviated version of that which priests and religious use.

While finishing a postgraduate specialization in catechetics, I had the delight of getting to know a number of young, up-and-coming catechists who would boast of possessing one or another spirituality. ‘Sister, I just love Saint Dominic!’ one would brag. ‘Therese is my girl!’ beamed another. ‘I’m a die-hard Ignatian,’ declared a third. And always there were plenty of those carefree souls who follow the Poverello from Assisi!

As I spent more and more time with these eager young people, I found myself trying to show them that, while each of the various spiritualities in the Church has its own particular ‘flavor,’ as future catechists they would need first to develop a taste for the particular ‘spirituality of the catechist.’ Unlike the ‘Dominican’ or the ‘Franciscan,’ the ‘catechist’ has no founder as such from whom to draw a specific charism. Instead, the spirituality of the catechist ‘springs from (his) vocation and mission.’ [i]