Franciscan at Home

It was a Sunday just like any other. At the end of Mass, the priest said, “Next week, bring a non-Catholic to Mass.” I turned to my wife and whispered, “I have someone in mind.”

I had a Chinese coworker whom I will call “John.” He and I often talked about philosophical topics such as the meaning of life. At first, John was an atheist, but through our conversations, he had moved into agnosticism. Accepting Thomas Aquinas’ arguments for the existence of God wasn’t too hard for John because he often praised Aristotle, and Aquinas seemed like a continuation of Aristotle.

Discussing Aquinas was good progress in our conversational catechesis, but getting from Aquinas to Jesus seemed far off. So one day I decided to jump right to it and asked point-blank:

“Who do you say that Jesus is?” John was surprised by my question.

“My understanding is that he founded Christianity,” he responded politely, “but I need to read more about his philosophy.”

Not knowing where to go from there, I told John that I would find some material and get back to him. But I felt lost. Should I talk about the historicity of the Gospels? Should I explain that Jesus is the only person in history to be preannounced? Should I tell John that Jesus is God?

Before I could find the material that I had I promised to give John, I found myself at church, at that liturgy, with Father encouraging us to bring a non-Catholic to Mass. So, back at work, I took the plunge and said to John, “The best way to understand Jesus is by taking you to Mass next Sunday.” He didn’t hesitate to accept my invitation.

When Sunday came, I waited for John in the parking lot, and then my family and I accompanied him into the church. I could tell he was curious about the reverence parishioners showed toward the altar. As the Mass began, I waited for the priest to say something along the lines of, “Welcome all non-Catholics; I will explain the Mass.” However, he began celebrating the Mass as usual. It was a beautiful liturgy, as always, and the priest gave a wonderful homily—but he made no special mention to acknowledge any guests.

The catechetical aspect of the Order of Christian Initiation of Adults (OCIA) is inseparable from the practical reality it seeks to inform. It is the work of teaching the faith so as to empower people to truly live it in their daily experience.

My first Christmas Eve as a priest, while I was putting the finishing touches on my Midnight Mass sermon, the rectory office doorbell rang continuously with devoted parishioners dropping off many gracious gifts. I opened the door for the umpteenth time, and there appeared before me a college-aged guy . . . without a present or card. “Are you a priest?” he asked. My collar was apparently not tipping him off. “Yes,” I confirmed. “I want to be Catholic!” he eagerly rejoined. It was a far better Christmas present than any other I would receive.

The technical term “care of souls” sadly remains almost unknown outside of clerical training. The concept encompasses serving the spiritual needs of all: reconciling the wayward, evangelizing the unchurched, serving the suffering, challenging the staunch—in short, everything that makes the life of the Church fruitful from the parochial level on up. An older translation renders it “cure of souls,” highlighting the hope of health for the spirit from the disease of sin with which we are plagued. For that reason, it applies specifically to the responsibilities of bishops and parish priests, the holy doctors of human hearts, but all the faithful have a share in its spirit of pursuing the salvation and sanctification of souls. No devout Catholic can be without a long prayer list for special cases in need of conversion or reversion. Imagine including the ones we’ve not even encountered yet!

What does it mean to receive the Eucharist, to enter into communion with Jesus?

“He’s just too small,” sobbed a woman we had just met. It was a sunny summer day, and the pastor, transitional deacon, and I were out knocking on doors within our parish boundaries. This woman’s door was within eyesight of the rectory, and it happened to be the first one we had visited. The conversation had started off just as awkwardly as one would imagine. She answered the door hesitantly, but smiled as we introduced ourselves. She was a parishioner and relaxed when she saw the pastor standing at the back of our group. We explained that we were out introducing ourselves and the parish to the neighborhood. When we asked if there were any intentions we could pray for, she took a deep breath and said yes. She then began to tell us about her unborn grandson and how her daughter’s pregnancy was not going well. She asked us to pray for the baby boy, who was just too small.

We could have just as easily not been there. That same morning, I had offered a training for any parishioners who wanted to learn about door-to-door evangelization. The idea was to walk them through a basic script at the parish and let them shadow those of us with more experience as we knocked on doors in the surrounding neighborhood. Nobody came.

Door-to-door ministry is a frightening prospect for many Catholics, and it is a frightening ministry to organize. Yet, there are overflowing graces to be had, both for the evangelist and the evangelized. Consider my opening story: What would have been lost if our team had gone home after the failed training seminar? Within eyesight of our parish was someone who needed Jesus’ comfort and the only way we could bring it to her was by following Christ’s own counsel: “Ask, . . . seek, . . . knock” (Mt 7:7).

I have been engaged in door-to-door evangelization since 2017. In that time, I have knocked on countless doors and said countless prayers. I have been invited into living rooms and have been cursed from behind locked doors. I have interrupted drug deals and witnessed spontaneous neighborhood prayer meetings. Through it all, I have become convinced that this style of ministry does have a place in the Catholic Church.

Historically, door-to-door ministry has been the near-exclusive province of Protestants, Latter Day Saints, and Jehovah’s Witnesses. Frankly, there have been times that, after seeing two men in white dress shirts and ties walking through my neighborhood, I suddenly decided there were errands I needed to run. Undoubtedly, the first pitfall to be overcome in this ministry is its perception. The very words “door-to-door” conjure up images of tract-wielding zealots and vacuum cleaner salesmen. The only way to change this perception is to do the ministry a different way. What if door-to-door evangelists were like those servants of the master who went out into the streets and through the city inviting all they met to the great wedding feast (see Lk 14:15–24)?

Back in 1989, when I first began working as a parish catechetical leader, I remember becoming alert to a pattern that unfolded regularly in our church parking lot. Two nights a week, our empty parking lot would become quite busy for two short periods of time. A line of cars would begin to form at 6:45 p.m. that would slowly inch along as parents dropped their children and teens off for parish catechesis. Then the lot emptied except for the dozen or so cars of the catechists. And then, an hour and a half later, the methodical line would predictably form again and creep along as parents retrieved their kids.

I had never been particularly attentive to this until that night. My alertness came about because of a contrasting pattern I had noticed for the first time in a church down the street. The previous week, I had noticed just how different the experience was in the evangelical Christian church parking lot. On Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, that church also had many cars entering the lot. But these cars were parked and remained for several hours until their drivers exited together at around 9 p.m. In that community, the adult drivers got out of their cars and entered, and then, surprisingly, remained in the building. As their kids went to Bible studies, so did their parents and other adults; whereas in our Catholic parish, the adult-chauffeurs immediately departed as their kids were catechized. In one church, the idea of studying and growing in an understanding of God’s Word was normative adult Christian life. Yet in the other—in ours—catechesis was an activity meant for the kids.

When it comes to the Catholic parishes with which each of us might be most familiar, what age level receives the most focused catechetical attention?

In 2017, the bishops of the United States held a convocation focused on unpacking and applying Pope Francis’ Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii Gaudium (“The Joy of the Gospel”). It was a beautiful moment of solidarity around the essential mission of the Church. Throughout the convocation, the bishops often repeated the mantra “We all are missionary disciples!” That phrase certainly echoes Pope Francis’ words in Evangelii Gaudium, “In virtue of their baptism, all the members of the People of God have become missionary disciples,” but it also reflects a desire in the American episcopate for the faithful to embrace the mission of evangelization and live out their identity as missionary disciples of Jesus Christ.[1]

This expressed desire has inspired many efforts to form evangelizers and missionary disciples at the diocesan, parochial, movement, and apostolate levels. These formation opportunities have helped the Church ask more specific questions, such as: What does a missionary disciple need to know? What skills are necessary for missionary discipleship? Given the wide array of pastoral gifts, abilities, and methods, are some more pertinent or necessary than others? How long does it take to form a missionary disciple? These questions are all relevant, even important. But in forming a missionary disciple, there is one key question: how does baptism make one a missionary disciple? Understanding the answer to this question helps catechists and leaders to approach formation from a position of collaboration with what God is already doing rather than what we hope he wants to do.

Notes

Americans love to buy things. Many even consider “going shopping” an actual recreational activity. But for most people, before they surrender their hard-earned cash on a new pair of shoes, a phone, or a car nothing sways consideration between choices more than a personal recommendation of someone they know who has used the product. The personal experience of friends goes a long way toward giving them confidence that they are making the correct decision. In the world of marketing, this kind of product endorsement is called a “testimonial.”

The first celebrity endorsement came in 1882 when Pears’ Soap used a picture of Lillie Langtry, a famous actress, on its advertising poster.[i] Manufacturers soon learned that if they have a familiar face admit to using their product, their product will have more credibility. If this was not the case, advertising today would simply consist of listing out the benefits of a product and expecting people to make a rational choice.

All catechesis, especially in RCIA, requires that we do more than simply list true facts about the faith. If we want to lead people to a deeper conversion and a genuine “yes” to Jesus, we must employ the power of personal testimony from those leading them to Christ.

Within the process of the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults (RCIA), the Rite of Election is a powerful liturgical moment. The Church rejoices at the imminent birth of new Christians, praying for the Elect as they draw even closer to the Lord in preparation for receiving the Sacraments of Initiation. The rite is also a culmination of learning about the Church—it is the point when catechumens formally declare their desire to enter the Church. The Rite of Election can serve as a valuable opportunity for reflection for those of us who are parish catechetical leaders, reminding us too that communion must form the context for catechesis.

This intention of the Rite of Election is especially pronounced in the modified wording of the Rite of Election for children over the age of seven. In this version of the Rite of Election there is a  profound moment when godparents are asked to formally declare the preparedness of the children through a series of questions: “Have these children shown themselves to be sincere in their desire for baptism, confirmation, and the Eucharist?” “Have they listened well to the word of God?” “Have they tried to live as his faithful followers?” “Have they taken part in this community’s life of prayer and service?”[1] While these questions are asked about the children, they have implications for the godparents and parents, and, by extension, us catechists as well. The questions point to the fact that becoming a disciple of Christ does not happen in a vacuum.

An Integral Part of Discipleship and Catechesis

The Directory for Catechesis, quoting Pope Francis, teaches that “The faith is professed, celebrated, expressed, and lived above all in community: ‘The communitarian dimension is not just a “frame,” an “outline,” but an integral part of the Christian life, of witness and of evangelization.’”[2] We see this implied in the questions asked in the Rite of Election. The first three questions could technically be discerned individually by the godparents alone but are more richly lived and discerned within the parish community. The fourth question necessarily includes the broader parish community. We as parish catechetical leaders have an incredible opportunity to pray for and foster this community within the programs we lead.

Practically speaking, parish catechetical leaders are often the first real contact a family seeking the sacraments through RCIA has with the parish community. We can guide this family into the community in not merely a superficial way but one that allows for friendship and apprenticeship in the Christian life. We become the gatekeepers in some sense, with a duty to bring those coming to the Church into the community of the parish. And, may I argue, we also have the mission to, under the guidance of the pastor, foster and encourage deep Christian community for all. The connections we facilitate can potentially allow catechumens to receive from and enrich a community for generations.