Franciscan at Home

Recently, a highly gifted colleague of mine told me of a visit she had made to officials of a nearby diocesan school system. This lady is an outstanding educational practitioner with very high quality skills in special and gifted educational strategies. The visit had gone very well, and the school authorities were very interested in what she was offering on behalf of the university. Yet there was one part of the visit that perplexed her. She had been asked this question: What is the difference between what you are offering as a Catholic university and what is available through the nearby public university? The lady is a very committed and faithful Catholic, but she felt a little ill at ease and unable to articulate the difference. So she asked me about it. This was not an attempt on her part to have a glib answer to offer. She was genuinely interested in what changes might be made to the actual work that she does. Actually, I was delighted to be asked. It is something that has occupied me for over thirty years and lay at the core of my own doctoral thesis. In this article, I intend to offer an overarching vision of the Catholic educational project.

Seeing with Both Eyes

The great Australian theologian, Frank Sheed, once wrote a book with the puzzling title Theology and Sanity. What does theology have to do with sanity? Everything! The classic definition of truth from St. Thomas Aquinas is: “Veritas est adaequatio rei et intellectus.”[i] To put that in layman’s terms, St. Thomas claims that we have the truth when what we have in our minds conforms to what really exists. In Sheed’s view, to see things as they really are is to be “sane” and by contrast, when a person genuinely believes in a world view that is not true, that person is “insane.” For this reason, Catholic teachers must teach differently from their public school counterparts, presenting reality as it is by incorporating both natural and supernatural perspectives. Pope John Paul II famously insisted that the human person ascends to God on two wings “faith and reason.” There are some educational systems that view reality from the perspective of faith alone: fideism; others insist on excluding whatever cannot be measured and observed: rationalism. Neither of these perspectives can properly express a Catholic vision of education. Chesterton put it rather more colorfully by reminding us that human sight is stereoscopic: to view anything with only one eye is to see it wrongly.

The Christian is not a prophet of misfortune. …The essence of the Christian proclamation is the opposite, the opposite of misfortune: it is Jesus who died for love and whom God raised on Easter morning. And this is the nucleus of Christian faith. If the Gospels had ended at Jesus’ burial, the story of this prophet would have been added to the many biographies of heroic figures who expended their lives for an ideal. The Gospel would then be an edifying book, and also a comforting one, but it would not be a proclamation of hope.

But the Gospels do not end on Good Friday. They go beyond it; and indeed, it is this additional fragment which transforms our lives. Jesus’ disciples felt dejected on the Saturday after the Crucifixion. The stone that was rolled against the door to the sepulchre had also sealed the three thrilling years they had lived with the Teacher of Nazareth.

Llegué al papel de catequista parroquial en una fase ya muy avanzada de mi carrera. Durante toda mi vida adulta, me había desempeñado como profesor en una escuela católica y una parte de mi vocación incluía ser responsable de la catequesis. Desde la edad de veinticinco años, también había ejercido la responsabilidad catequética principal con nuestros propios hijos. Con tal peso de la experiencia, creía que trabajar con el programa catequético de la parroquia no sería demasiado retador. Quienquiera que haya trabajado en este apostolado reconocería cuán equivocado estaba. El contexto parroquial es totalmente único ya que los estudiantes con quienes nos encontramos enfrentan retos muy distintos sin el apoyo de una comunidad escolar. El catequista parroquial es también sujeto a expectativas extraordinarias y demandantes. Mientras que el padre de familia y el maestro de escuela católica tienen cierto grado de "control" sobre las circunstancias en las que se transmite la catequesis, esto no es el caso de los programas parroquiales con los que estoy familiarizado. A menudo los estudiantes asisten de mala gana; habiendo ya pasado el día completo en el aula de escuela, distan de llegar en estado receptivo. En algunos casos, los papás de ellos tampoco dan mucho apoyo, y a veces incluso son injustamente críticos. De hecho, fue en el marco de la catequesis parroquial que escuché por primera vez aquellas temidas palabras: "Solo voy a dejar que mi hijito pruebe esta clase; si le gusta, se puede quedar." Por lo visto, si el catequista no está "a la altura", se le privará al niño del tesoro más rico que se le puede ofrecer al ser humano: la proclamación del Evangelio de Jesucristo.

¿Cómo sobrellevar circunstancias como éstas? Para el catequista nuevo, es tentador intentar ser "emocionante" e "interesante" - para rápidamente quedar agotado. En última instancia, este enfoque fracasa porque la vocación de catequista parroquial nos trae cara a cara con la cruda realidad que hay un solo regalo que vale la pena dar: Jesucristo. El catequista de parroquia, primero y ante todo, es testigo de Cristo. Vale la pena recordar las palabras del Beato Pablo VI en su encíclica, Evangelii Nuntiandi: "El hombre contemporáneo escucha más a gusto a los que dan testimonio que a los que enseñan - decíamos recientemente a un grupo de seglares - o si escuchan a los que enseñan, es porque dan testimonio"[1]. Ningún programa y ningún recurso, no importa lo superlativo de la elaboración, puede reemplazar al catequista enamorado de Dios. El vivo ejemplo de esto es San Juan Vianney, cuyas lecciones catequéticas atraían todos los días a cientos de personas de todas las esferas sociales, y no solamente a los niños de la parroquia.

came to the role of catechist in a parish setting very late in my career. For the whole of my adult life, I had worked in some way as a teacher in a Catholic school with responsibility for catechesis as part of my vocation. From the age of twenty-five, I had also exercised the primary catechetical responsibility with my own children. With such a weight of experience, I believed that working with the catechetical program in the parish would not be particularly challenging. Anyone who has worked in this mission will recognize how misguided I was. The parish context is utterly unique since the students we encounter face very different challenges without the support of a school community. The parish catechist is subjected to extraordinary and demanding expectations as well. Whereas a parent and a Catholic schoolteacher have a degree of “control” over the circumstances in which catechesis is delivered, this is not the case in parish programs with which I am familiar. The students can often be there “under sufferance”; having already spent a full day in a school classroom, they are often far from receptive. In some cases, parents are not particularly supportive and at times they are even unfairly critical. Indeed, it was in a parish catechetical setting that I heard for the first time those dreaded words: “I’ll just let my child try this out; and if she likes it, she can stay.” Presumably, if the catechist does not “perform,” the child will then be deprived of the richest treasure that can be offered to any human being: the proclamation of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. How does one cope in circumstances like these? The temptation is to try to be “exciting” and “interesting” – and very quickly to burn out. This approach will ultimately fail, because the vocation of the parish catechist brings us face to face with the raw reality that there is only one gift worth giving: Jesus Christ. The parish catechist, first and foremost, is a witness to Christ. Here it is worth recalling the words of Blessed Paul VI’s encyclical Evangelii Nuntiandi, “Modern man listens more willingly to witnesses than to teachers, and if he does listen to teachers, it is because they are witnesses.”[1] No program or resource, however superbly prepared, can replace a catechist who is in love with God. A telling example of this is St. John Vianney, whose catechetical lessons attracted hundreds from every walk of life every day, not just the children of the parish.

One of the most interesting elements of guidance given by the Church in the General Directory for Catechesis (GDC) is the pedagogical principle of “Fidelity to God and Fidelity to Man.”[1] What is unique about this and also essential for any catechist is the fact that this principle should guide both content and methodology. In fact, St. John Paul II wrote that catechesis must refer to “a law that is fundamental for the whole of the Church’s life: the law of fidelity to God and fidelity to man in a single loving attitude.”[2] As catechists, we must have this “single loving attitude.” We can find inspiration in this from the world of iconography. Many times in the writing of icons, the iconographer will draw the face of the saint with one eye slightly turned upward to God and one eye focused straight ahead. As catechists, like the saints we try to emulate, we look both upward and outward in a two-fold fidelity. The balance that a catechist must obtain is not between two conflicting motivations. If we look at the hypostatic union, we see that Christ’s divinity does not destroy his humanity nor does his humanity take anything away from his divinity. The two exist united yet distinct. Similarly, catechists must constantly be aware of those who are before them and the mystery they proclaim. We do not catechize in a vacuum but in a specific time, place, and to a particular people. It is the responsibility of catechists to be “heralds of the Gospel who are experts in humanity, who know the depths of the heart of many today, who share in his hopes and joys, his worries and his sadness, and at the same time are contemplatives, in love with God.”[3] This principle protects and directs the catechist in many ways. The GDC states, “The principle of ‘fidelity to God and fidelity to man’ leads to an avoidance of any opposition or artificial separation or presumed neutrality between method and content. It affirms, rather, their necessary correlation and interaction.”[4] In recent catechetical history, the relationship between content and method has been frequently discussed. Many catechetical textbooks are judged by these two standards and rightly so; but a textbook is not the most important aspect of catechesis.[5] The person of the catechist is that advocate on the part of God to explain and apply what God has revealed and an advocate on the part of the person to help him respond to what he has revealed. In order to better understand our role as catechists, let’s explore each side of the principle of fidelity to God and fidelity to man.

We all have a natural tendency to seek comfort and avoid suffering. This is especially true of children, who have limited “delay of gratification skills,” meaning that it’s difficult for them to not have what they want, right when they want it.

But suffering is a part of every life. Along with the good times, we also experience illness, hardships, disappointment, and eventually death. If our faith is to be relevant to our everyday life, it is important that a community of faith be able to give meaning to suffering and be responsive to the needs of those who are suffering.

God is always with us
Once, during a rare question and answer session, a young girl from Japan asked Pope Benedict why people must suffer as they did in her country during the tsunami. Pope Benedict answered honestly, saying that he, too, had trouble understanding why suffering of this magnitude is present in the world. He then echoed the words of Pope John Paul II, saying that one thing we can be certain about is that God is always on the side of the suffering. Jesus himself entered into human suffering. In the suffering Christ, we see God’s solidarity with even the most painful moments of human existence. Children’s experience of God’s presence often takes shape in their interactions with friends and family, and most especially with their parents, but in a lesser way with teachers, catechists, and other authority figures. For this reason, it is important that they experience empathy from the adults in their lives, even when their suffering seems small by our standards. Reflecting their feelings by saying, “I know you're frustrated that you can’t play outside today,” or “I’m sorry your stomach is hurting,” lets them know that you care about them, and it helps give them the strength to bear their small sufferings and build self discipline.

In this final installment, we reflect on the most essential characteristic of an effective catechist for the new evangelization: allowing Christ to transform us through holiness of life. Among all of the words spoken during the pontificate of Blessed Paul VI, there is one phrase most often repeated today that came to prominence in one of his last letters, Evangelli Nuntiandi. It was his observation that “modern man listens more willingly to witnesses than to teachers, and if he does listen to teachers, it is because they are witnesses” (41).

The Catechetical Institute at Franciscan University has officially launched it's LMS (Learning Management System) FranciscanAtHome.com for online catechist formation in all areas of catechesis; we're adding new courses weekly. You can try it out for as little as $5 for the month, just for enrichment, or $13 for a month with a mentor to accompany you.

A lo largo de los siguientes números de la Catechetical Review, presentaré tres artículos que tratan del papel del catequista: desde las perspectivas de padre de familia, de docente en una escuela católica, y de voluntario parroquial. He desempeñado personalmente los tres papeles, y quiero aclarar desde el principio que ninguno tuvo la misma importancia personal para mí que aquél que se me confirió a través de mi vocación al matrimonio - la de ser esposo y papá, con responsabilidad por mi familia. Es en este punto que comenzaré.