Franciscan at Home

If St. Paul were visiting us her today, what advice would he give to catechists?

Dynamic catechesis is a dialogue of salvation. In this sacred conversation we share the revelation of Jesus Christ and invite our hearers to faith. Catechesis is an act of communication. It is a form of communion with others.

Among other examples of catechesis in the New Testament, I draw your attention to three of them in Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians. Paul involves himself personally and passionately with people. He speaks. He listens. He persuades. He testifies. He trusts enthusiastically in the power of the Spirit to convince his listeners. If he were visiting us today, I think he would inspire us to use the following guidelines for catechesis.

Share the theology of the Cross
Illumine the hope of the Resurrection
Explain the Power of the Eucharist

In 1678 Titus Oates announced his discovery of a Jesuit-inspired plot to murder King Charles II and replace him with his Catholic brother, James, Duke of York. In the wave of engineered hysteria that followed upon his allegations, thirty-five priests and laymen were put to death.

When the full extent of Oates’ perjuries was discovered, there was a widespread sense of revulsion towards the bloodletting, which they had occasioned. This would significantly affect official attitudes towards English Catholics and the laws under which they suffered. Penal legislation against seminary priests remained in force, and the Toleration Act of 1689 specifically excluded Catholics, but no priest in England was executed after1681. Although occasional test cases were brought as late as 1771, and a priest named Maloney was condemned at Croydon to perpetual imprisonment in 1769, this was commuted, ‘by the mercy of the Government’ to banishment after three years. Other cases were thrown out of court on the grounds of insufficient evidence.[i]

James II’s flight into exile in 1688 was marked in several places by outbursts of violence against Catholic chapels,[ii] but no priests or religious were killed. By and large, the government wished ‘to let sleeping dogs lie’, and throughout the eighteenth century, while the Catholic gentry would be penalised by exclusion from government office, by social ostracism and by the imposition of double land-taxes, the days of bloody persecution were over. The Stuart Risings of 1715 and 1745 were met with indifference by the great majority of English Catholics, and by the middle of the century the Vicars Apostolic and informed Catholic gentlemen had come to accept that the Stuart cause was hopeless, and that they should make their peace with the House of Hanover.

It was against this political background that the nucleus of Oscott College’s Recusant collection was formed.

The General Directory for Catechesis tells us that inculturation, ‘is a profound and global process and a slow journey. It is not simply an external adaptation designed to make the Christian message more attractive or superficially decorative’ (GDC 109).

Unfortunately, in our contemporary culture, the first principle of inculturation is often simply to make an external adaptation of the Christian message to make it more attractive, more pleasing. In order to achieve this, an attempt can be made to strip the message of Christ of everything that might offend. We might say that what is operating in this cases is a ‘primacy of plausibility’, or a ‘primacy of tolerance’. It is not so much that we are seeking ways of tolerating others, so much as that we are seeking ways of making the Gospel tolerable to others. The popular name for this principle of plausibility and tolerance is ‘political correctness’.

When plausibility or tolerance is given this primary place in our thinking other things suffer. There is frequently no longer a concern for what is true, but for merely what is pleasing. In contemporary culture if one knows something is right or wrong, true or false, and one tells someone this is so, this can be considered to be simply ‘intolerant’ and even ‘hateful’. It is seen as an attempt to impose one’s morality and beliefs on someone else.

What are some of the consequences of this way of thinking for catechesis?

Esta nueva serie examina rasgos claves de la cultura contemporánea que caracterizan el “campo” en el cual los catequistas siembran la palabra hoy en día.

‘¡La verdad no existe!

‘¡Quizás para ti eso se malo, pero para mí está bien!’

‘¡La belleza está en los ojos de quien mira!’

Todos hemos escuchado estas máximas de alguna forma u otra. Expresan una postura filosófica por la cual muchas personas rigen sus vidas: el relativismo. En una homilía dada el lunes 18 de abril de 2005, el Papa Benedicto XVI habló de ‘la dictadura del relativismo’. La catequesis de las personas inmersas en una cultura de relativismo es una de las tareas catequéticas más difíciles de nuestro tiempo.

Dicho de manera muy sencilla, el relativismo no permite que exista nada objetivo en términos de verdad, belleza o bondad. Algo se tiene por verdadero, bello o bueno solo en relación con lo que el individuo piensa o cree. Una declaración como, ‘Hay un Dios’, puede ser verdad para ti, pero no para mí, ya que todo es solo opinión. Una obra maestra, como la Pietà por Miguel Ángel, puede ser bella para ti, pero no para mí, ya que nada se tiene por bello de por sí sin salvedades o condiciones, ya que todo es meramente cuestión de gusto. Una acción en particular, como el matar directamente a un ser humano inocente, quizás sea mala para mí, pero no necesariamente para ti, ya que en último término el relativismo no permite ningún absoluto moral.

La idolatría del trabajo...

En el previo número de The Sower (Abril 2009) empezamos a analizar los escritos de Dietrich von Hildebrand, y sus reflexiones sobre la cultura contemporánea. Su ensayo ‘Eficiencia y santidad’ trata de la herejía de la eficiencia. Argumentó que esto involucraba una cierta idolatría del trabajo, especialmente del trabajo profesional.

¿Qué es lo que él quería decir con esto? Vio que esta herejía estaba presente en la estimación que a menudo se da en el ámbito del trabajo, en la que prácticamente consideramos que es en nuestro trabajo que encontramos la cúspide más alta de la vida humana. Von Hildebrand no desestima de ninguna manera la alta dignidad del trabajo en la vida del ser humano, sino que ve el problema como el desvío de nuestro entendimiento del centro de gravedad del hombre desde nuestra vocación primaria de ser persona, a la de nuestro trabajo y nuestros logros.

Cuando se coloca el trabajo en el centro, la alternativa que buscamos tiende no a ser Dios, sino la diversión. Y ya que esto no es nuestro centro verdadero, las otras cosas se distorsionan también. La ‘recreación’ y la ‘relajación’ se convierten en la etiqueta para todo lo que vale la pena buscar fuera del trabajo. Von Hildebrand argumentó que con esta mentalidad, comenzamos a abordar la cuestión de la buena vida simplemente en términos de diversión y así se frustra cualquier comprensión de la verdadera profundidad y dignidad de la vida. Descuidamos lo espiritual, descuidamos la necesidad del recogimiento. Dejamos que nos distraigan.

‘If it feels good, do it.’ This slogan succinctly expresses a main feature of the mentality of today's society. What is this radically influential philosophical position? Hedonism.

In essence, hedonism holds that the only thing intrinsically good is pleasure, and the only thing intrinsically bad is displeasure. A thing is only good or bad in itself if it either gives or does not give pleasure.

This philosophy easily translates into practice. One ought only to act for the sake of pleasure. One's choice for option A as opposed to option B will be governed by which will bring the greatest pleasure. If both things will undoubtedly cause displeasure, one must choose the option causing the least displeasure. Thus, for the hedonist, pleasure is the main principle for all decision making.

What are some of the probable negative consequences of living by the tenets of an unbridled hedonistism? The hedonist will very likely self-absorbed, extraordinarily selfish, and willing to do anything to anyone for self-gratification. Using others as a means for pleasure can lead to sexual sins like fornication, adultery and rape. Everything is about what I want.

We need not look far to find this attitude affecting our nation, local community, and perhaps even ourselves. Blessed Pope John XXIII expressed the modern situation in this way, "There is, alas, a spirit of hedonism abroad today which beguiles men into thinking that life is nothing more than the quest for pleasure and the satisfaction of human passions. This attitude is disastrous. Its evil effects on soul and body are undeniable." (Mater et Magistra, 235)

Most people associate Arabia with Islamic fundamentalism and super-modern cities like Dubai, Abu Dhabi and Doha. It may come as a surprise, then, that the Arabian Peninsular is home to at least 2 million Catholics, who are almost entirely composed of expatriate workers.

It is easy to forget that Christianity initially flourished in the Arabian Peninsula. According to tradition, St Bartholomew preached the Gospel in what is now Yemen on his way to India, and three bishops of the nomadic Arabs attended the Council of Chalcedon in 451. Little survived the rise of Islam, although when Marco Polo visited the islands of Socotra, off the southern Arabian coast, he found that ‘the inhabitants are baptized Christians and have an archbishop.’

Today the Apostolic Vicariate of Arabia cares for the faithful in Bahrain, Oman, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, UAE and Yemen. This large area includes just 16 parishes and 55 priests. Relative religious freedom exists within a well-defined framework and most church activities take place within the parish compound, normally situated on the outskirts of a major city or town. The notable exception is the ‘Forbidden Kingdom’ of Saudi Arabia, where all religions other than Islam are prohibited and no official Church activity is allowed.

Gerard Boylan examines examples of catechisms from both pre-Reformation and post-Reformation periods and finds them more varied than might be expected.

Effective catechesis, as we know, takes account not only of the content of the message to be handed on, but also of the personal circumstances of those being instructed, the situation of the national Church, and a host of cultural factors. Effective catechesis increases knowledge and understanding and thereby strengthens a person’s commitment to an essential assent already given, and this more formal instruction is internalised, and becomes an experienced truth in the circumstances life, when it is reinforced by the habit of prayer, by the example of other Christians whose lives encourage us, by our taking seriously participation in the Mass and the sacraments, by the practice of virtue and the avoidance of evil, by spiritual reading—in other words, by what the General Directory for Catechesis calls ‘on-going formation’ of many kinds.

St Mary’s College, Oscott, the seminary in north Birmingham, in England, is home to a significant Recusant and rare books collection of some 15,000 printed books and pamphlets. Among them are catechetical works dating from the late fifteenth to the early nineteenth centuries. They reflect the changing circumstances of their readers and the life of the Catholic Church in England over a period of some 350 years. Some of them correspond to the accepted definition of a catechism - a summary of principles, often in a question-and-answer format. But the majority are more extensive works, which contain not only a summary of Catholic doctrine, but in addition address the need for the ‘on-going formation’ that lay people needed in circumstances which were often inimical to the practice of their faith.

This year we are focussing on God the Father. It is a time to consider origins and goals since the Eternal Father is, of course, both. He is the source of human life and He is its only and unimaginable goal. The whole of life is encompassed by His watchful providence as He leads us from Himself to Himself.

Catechesis necessarily takes its orientation from these fundamental truths, and we can think of catechesis as our gradual induction into these most basic points about our life. It is easy to see why the Church gives such prominence to the role of catechesis: what more important work in the Church can there be than that of bringing people to a realisation of these marvellous truths?

It is a work of God to convert a father to the gift and task of his fatherhood; indeed, we live in a society in which many fathers have abandoned fatherhood. It is even possible that fatherhood is more hidden than motherhood and more susceptible, in a way, to general neglect; nonetheless, like all naturally good gifts, it responds to appreciation, cultivation and instruction. I am sure, however, that fatherhood is from the very root of personhood and needs the grace of God to flourish. Just as God has given me seven children, plus two in heaven and one to be born in the next month, so I need God to help me to adapt to the varieties of personality and the everyday dynamics of family life. The transformation of my-ever shrinking time for ‘me’ into the treasurable time for ‘my family’ is at the heart of God’s action in my life. Sharing, then, what God is doing with me as a father, is a way of fanning into life one of the gifts of God which has been severely frostbitten.

If it is simple to say that I am discovering some of the dimensions of the ‘Father’ as catechist, it is not so simple sustaining the simplicity of this in the reality of daily life. What I want to pass on to my children is a beautiful wonder at the mystery which permeates each person’s life, beginning as it does with Creation and the act of God at the foundation of each person’s life. What I am in danger of doing is passing on a dreadful gloom in front of the practicalities of life: the clearing up, the clearing out of the house in time for school, the rushed return journey and the endless unfinished things that express the impossibility of fulfilling my perfectionist tendencies. Not to mention the dreadful fears that arise in my heart from what I read in the papers.