Franciscan at Home

As part of the tribute to Sofia Cavalletti we reproduce here a short article from here writings.

In the Apostolic Exhortation Catechesi Tradendae (On Catechesis in Our Time), we read that the catechist “will not seek to keep directed towards himself and his personal opinions and attitudes the attention and the consent of the mind and heart of the person he is catechizing. Above all, he will not try to inculcate his personal opinions and options as if they expressed Christ's teaching and the lessons of his life. Every catechist should be able to apply to himself the mysterious words of Jesus: ‘My teaching is not mine, but his who sent me (John 7:16).’ Saint Paul did this when he was dealing with a question of prime importance: ‘I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you (1 Corinthians 11:23).’ …what detachment from self must a catechist have in order that he can say, ‘My teaching is not mine!’” (N. 6)
The need for rigorous objectivity

The text cited establishes a principle of the utmost importance in catechesis: the need for the catechist to be rigorously objective in the transmission of the message.

In every educational process the educator must put the one to be educated in relationship with reality so that he or she becomes capable of establishing his or her own personal relationship with it. The task of the catechist is to initiate into religious reality, that is to say (1) to point to the reality that we are surrounded by the presence of a Person, of a Love, because from this knowledge is born (2) a personal relationship with God.

In 1515, the artist, Mattias Grünewald, completed a work that came to be known as the Isenheim Altarpiece. It is a complicated structure of painted panels which include a vivid and rather gruesome depiction of the Crucifixion. The altarpiece was produced for the hospital chapel of St Anthony’s Monastery as Isenheim in Alsace. The hospital was dedicated to the care of patients suffering from particularly unpleasant diseases such as leprosy and St Anthony’s Fire. What is striking about the depiction of Christ is that his body bears the same sort of infirmities as those of the patients of the hospital – twisted limbs racked in agony and skin covered with marks from the scourging, which could have appeared to the patients as replicating the effects of the diseases with which they were afflicted.

The passage from Mark 1:40-45 is the account of Jesus healing a man who had been afflicted with leprosy. Apart from the physical effects of leprosy, there were further distressing aspects for a leper in Israel. The book of Leviticus (13:1-2, 44-46), the reading chosen for the Sunday on which this gospel is read, indicates that the leper is also to be socially excluded. He or she is to ‘live outside the camp’. The phrase comes from the time when those who had fled from Egypt were in the wilderness and set up camp wherever God indicated. This exclusion partially hides an even more serious exclusion. The camp was the setting also for the Tent of Meeting, the place which was the sign of God’s presence among His people, the place of worship.

In this series on the Miracles of Jesus we have been exploring the whole question of the possibility of miracles by examining the approach of C.S. Lewis. We have seen that the idea that Nature accounts for all that exists is in the end untenable. Reason or rationality cannot be explained within the cause and effect relationship of natural processes. Rationality is something outside of Nature, which acts upon it – giving meaning and purpose.

From the basis of the human experience of Rationality acting from outside upon Nature, Lewis discusses whether this should be properly described as an “invasion”. When we look at the actual results of the interaction of Nature and Rationality, when Rationality enters Nature, then Nature is given order, purpose and meaning. Nature of itself does not provide this. It only provides a series of events following certain other events. It doesn’t actually make sense of them. For that is an act of Reason. When Nature tries to subsume Rationality into itself, making reason into a blind mechanism, then Nature succeeds not only in destroying reason, but ultimately, also destroys itself – condemns itself to being without purpose or reason. (Fortunately, says Lewis, the Naturalists often forget the theory they hold, and act in a human and rational way.)

In the first articles of this series on the miracles of Jesus we briefly explored the miracle of turning water into wine at Cana in Galilee. That miracle is classified by C.S.Lewis as a miracle of fertility and as a miracle of the Old Creation. Describing it in this way focuses attention upon the fact that a gospel miracle is a local and sudden occurrence of something that God is always doing in Nature. It is the sudden and nature of the specific action that testifies to the divine person of Jesus Christ, and that leads us to describe the action as a miracle.

In the miracle of the feeding of the five thousand, the same principle can be seen. In the processes of Nature, a single seed of corn, once in the ground, eventually produces a whole new crop of corn. Abundance and fertility is something that God has granted to living things in Nature. This quality reveals the divine origin of living created things and reflects the Creator. In Nature fish, also, have the capacity in the cycle of reproduction to produce a superabundance of new fish.

The miracle of Jesus, in multiplying bread and fish, is a witness to the sudden and immediate action of the divine person accomplishing what God has always accomplished, though often unnoticed, on the broad canvas of Nature. The miracle is not so much a suspension of Nature, as a suspension of the normal or usual process by which God accomplishes something through Nature.

‘The central miracle asserted by Christians is the Incarnation. They say that God became Man. Every other miracle prepares for this, exhibits this, or results from this. …every Christian miracle manifests at a particular place and moment the character and significance of the Incarnation.’ (C.S.Lewis, Miracles)

Before examining the particular miracles of Jesus, it would be good to consider what Lewis calls the ‘central miracle.’ He maintains that ‘all discussion of them (particular miracles) in isolation from it is futile’.

To illustrate his argument, Lewis puts forward an analogy. Supposing that we possess parts of a novel or a symphony; someone then comes along with a newly-discovered piece of manuscript claiming that this is the missing element of the work – the part upon which the whole theme of the symphony or the whole plot of the novel depends. Our task would then be to see whether or not this new passage did in fact ‘illuminate all the parts we had already seen and pull them together. … Even if the new passage or main theme contained great difficulties itself, we should think it genuine provided that it continually removed difficulties elsewhere. Something like that we must do with the doctrines of the Incarnation. Here, instead of a symphony or a novel, we have the whole mass of our knowledge. The credibility will depend on the extent to which the doctrine, if accepted, can illuminate and integrate that whole mass. It is much less important that the doctrine itself should be fully comprehensible. We believe that the sun is in the sky at midday in summer not because we can clearly see the sun (in fact, we cannot) but because we can see everything else.’

The Apostles experienced Jesus praying so much, so frequently and so intensely that one day they just had to ask: ‘Lord, teach us to pray just as John taught his disciples’ (Luke 11:1). Little did they understand, as was so frequent during Jesus’ public ministry, that Jesus had been teaching them to pray all along through his witness of actually praying. Jesus, however, responds to their request by going beyond their request. He does not teach them to pray as John taught his disciples; he teaches them how to pray as he does.

One important aspect of the Lord’s Prayer is that it ‘is truly the summary of the whole gospel’ (CCC 2761). St. Augustine says, ‘Run through all the words of the holy prayers [in Scripture], and I do not think that you will find anything in them that is not contained and included in the Lord’s Prayer’ (CCC 2762). At first glance one might wonder how this is the case with a prayer of so few words. But it does contain the entire message of salvation, the Good News.

The most central mystery of our faith is the Blessed Trinity, an eternal exchange of love. We are destined to share in that exchange (see CCC 221). The Lord’s Prayer proclaims this glorious mystery. Father, Son and Holy Spirit are clearly revealed.

Our redemption took place on 'a tree', the tree of the Cross. This is the culminating point for a wonderful teaching we can give on the importance of trees in creation and in the story of our redemption.

Trees occupy a central place in the Scriptures. Stonewall Jackson understood his Bible well, and knew that as he was departing this life he would meet his Creator at ‘the trees’. Just as Genesis begins with a meeting at two trees, the Tree of Knowledge of good and evil and the Tree of Life,, so in the restored Garden of Paradise there is a tree, and in the book of Revelation we are shown that, ‘The Leaves of the Tree were for the healing of the nations.’ (see Gen. 2:17; 3:22; Rev. 22:2). The life giving tree is restored, and we may meet God their again in restored communion. The two trees of Genesis that were meant to be a meeting place for God and Man soon became a memorial of the death of humanity, where our first parents met the serpent and heeded its word instead their Father's.

Scripture sees trees as meeting places. In this arid world of the middle east there is a natural theology of trees as points of encounter between God, or His prophets, and His children. Where the tree is, there is life. Not only do we have the fruit of the tree but also shade and a water source that is feeding it. Time and again we shall see that trees are signs of life, rest and meeting.

There are a large number of trees, plants and shrubs in the Bible. These are 'types', pointing the way to the ultimate ‘Tree’ of Scripture, the tree of the Cross. Typology works in this fashion: there is a progression and construction of types until the final unveiling of the superior 'anti-type', that is, the reality towards which everything else points. Thus there are many leaders who point to the one Messiah; many;; prophets prophesy until the last great Prophet; many meals are taken, which point to the Last Supper; the women of Scripture all point to one ultimate Woman par excellence; plants and trees all lead us to one specific Tree.

Christina Coakley provides ten teaching points for a sound catechesis on Creation and Providence.

1. God cares for all his creation and guides it toward perfection. Our faith in the Father is firmly rooted in our trust that he takes care of all our needs. Catechesis on creation concerns the foundations of our human and Christian life.

2. In the opening words of Genesis we read, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.”[i] These words are reiterated in the Apostles’ Creed confessing that God, the Father Almighty, is “Creator of heaven and earth” and, in the Nicene Creed, “of all that is, seen and unseen.” Creation lays the foundation for God’s saving plan of salvation for all mankind that culminates in the Incarnation of Jesus Christ, the new creation.

In the second part of her article, French catechist and theologian, Waltraud Linnig, offers us two more doors into reading and teaching the Bible and the keys for unlocking them.

To recapitulate, by opening the first door, we started to read the Bible as the Word of God. We discover the human authors have written different genres of biblical books!, we read the human words written in their own manner of thinking, of speaking, of conception of the world and influenced by their culture, one that differs greatly from our own. We become aware that we are reading translated texts. This is true for the original texts were written in Hebrew, Aramaic or Greek.

Did you ever read an ancient text in old-English, texts from the 14th century for example? It will not have been an easy task and the Hebrew texts of the OT are much more ancient as they were written between 1000 BC and 27 BC which is 2000 or 3000 years ago. We may read the Bible and interpret the words as if the author lived within our culture and age! We are perhaps not aware that the words do not always have the same meaning in the biblical language as in our language.

Immediately this raises another question: If there are true human authors who wrote the biblical texts, how can we affirm that the Bible is really the Word of God? For example, in Deuteronomy 14:7 we learn that the rabbit is a ruminant! This of course is not true! So, if there are such errors, how can I say that the Bible is really the Word of God? A key is needed to open that door!

In this article, Mgr Paul Watson looks at the Eucharist as the source and summit of initial proclamation.

I recently heard the witness of a young man, an artist, struggling to make sense of his life and the state of society today. He had received no Christian upbringing, but had a sense of goodness and beauty in the world. Nevertheless, he was deeply troubled by the inconsistencies he found within himself and in the world around him. How easy it was to make choices that led to greater confusion and misery. Where in society can one find a deep sense of purpose and hope?

It was in this state of bewilderment that this young man wandered into a Catholic Church – perhaps to find a bit of peace and quiet to think! In fact, he had stumbled into the celebration of a sung Mass. As the Mass proceeded, the young man became more and more aware of an event that was both beautiful and uplifting. He tried to pay more attention and realised that this rich event seemed to revolve around the proclamation of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. The words, the music and the actions all seemed to be centred on the person of Jesus and on the fact of his sacrificial death and resurrection and yet, at the same time, coalesced into a great act of worship and praise of God.

The experience had a profound effect on him. There and then his faith in the living Jesus was born, as well as a dim awareness, at first, that the answers to the things that were troubling him could be found in this person, and strangely, in the mystery of his death and resurrection. Following this experience, his enquiries led him to be received into the Catholic Church and to full participation in the sacrament of the Eucharist, which had so deeply affected him.

Those of us who are accustomed to regular Sunday Mass might be a little surprised by this story. We might be surprised to learn too that it is far from being unique. Perhaps the young man was fortunate in entering a Church in which the liturgy was carefully and beautifully carried out. However, there are many who have been moved to faith by their first contact with the celebration of the Eucharist. Perhaps they see something that has become so familiar to us that we no longer notice it.