Franciscan at Home

One of the marks of contemporary experience seems to be a widespread sense of brokenness, a sort of heaviness of being. Therefore, one of the least debated claims of Christianity is that we need healing, both personal and societal. Social analysts repeatedly look for the causes of this individual and collective discontent. While there are cultural factors that contribute to postmodern dis-ease, Christian theology has always offered a root cause for humanity’s discontent: original sin that we inherit and the personal sins that we commit. If sin were the end of the story, Christianity would indeed be rather bleak. As its name implies, however, Christianity does not stop with our brokenness but rather points us upward and outward to Christ, who came into this world precisely to save us from our sin and the weight of its effects. While debate may continue regarding the roots of humanity’s problems, central to the message of the Good News of the Gospel is the truth that Jesus came that we might have life (see Jn 10:10). This sharing in divine life by grace, received especially through prayer and the sacraments, is freely offered to us. Grace is a divine gift that both heals our brokenness and uplifts us to true spiritual greatness. Saint Thomas Aquinas wrote of this two-fold effect of grace in the Summa Theologiae: “In order to live righteously a man needs a twofold help of God—first, a habitual gift whereby corrupted human nature is healed, and after being healed is lifted up so as to work deeds meritorious of everlasting life, which exceed the capability of nature. Secondly, man needs the help of grace in order to be moved by God to act.”[1] These curative and transformative effects of grace are precisely the antidote to our broken hearts and our broken world.

Socrates and Plato and Aristotle and Buddha and Confucius and Lao Tzu all gave us their minds; Christ gave us his body. They all tried to save the world from ignorance by their philosophies; Christ saved the world from sin and death and hell by his body and blood—both on the cross and in the Eucharist. Christ said, “Come unto me.” Buddha said, “Look not to me, look to my dharma, my teaching.” The others said, “I teach the truth,” but Christ said, “I AM the truth.” When we receive the Eucharist, we eat the Truth. Christ is the meaning of life. When we receive him, we receive the meaning of life into our bodies, not just into our minds.

The Gospel is a series of events, culminating in a marriage. The bridegroom, Christ, and his bride the Church (us) both come a long way to meet and marry each other. He comes from eternity to time, from heaven to earth, from spirit to matter, from perfection to a world full of sin and into lives full of sin. He brings us from absolute nothingness into being by creation and, eventually, our birth; and then into his Church, into his Body, by the sacraments, beginning with baptism, which is our second birth. These are dramatic events, good news, gospel. Since our religion is essentially the Good News, it is proper to ask the same five questions a news reporter would: who, when, what, why, and where? These are the five questions I set myself to answer in this series about our meeting with Christ in the Eucharist. We’ll address the first two questions in this issue.

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What is the Neophyte Year?

Many of us may be aware of the RCIA process that is undertaken in many parishes, but have we stopped to ask ourselves the question, “What happens to the new Catholics after the Easter Vigil?” The Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults offers a period of Mystagogy for the seven weeks leading up to Pentecost, but then what?

The new Catholic, for the period up to the anniversary of their reception into the Catholic Church, is known as a “neophyte,” that is, “one who is initiated at the Easter Vigil. The term comes from the Greek word meaning newly planted.”[1] During this period, the parish should support the new Catholics in various ways to deepen their understanding of the faith. Ongoing catechesis is a necessary undertaking, if we are to continue to grow in faith and in love of Jesus Christ. This is echoed in the experience of the apostolic and early Church; for example, St. Paul counselled against neophytes becoming bishops too early (cf. 1 Tim 3:6) “lest their lack of experience in the faith render them arrogant or deficient.”[2] Similarly, the Council of Nicaea (325 A.D.) prohibited acceptance of a neophyte into holy orders, “lest being puffed up with pride, he fall into the judgement of the devil.”[3] It is clear from this prohibition that even in the fourth century, when the period of the catechumenate would have lasted several years,[4] the neophyte is still seen very much as in a period of early spiritual development. The questions might be asked: What kind of spiritual development is needed in new Catholics today? What should be happening during the Neophyte Year?

The Neophyte Year is a time which:

allows the neophytes to reflect on their experience of the sacraments, Scripture, grow closer to Christ through the Eucharist and participate more frequently in the parish. The parish community is called to mentor the neophytes as they begin to live as Christian disciples and fulfill their baptismal vocation to evangelize.[5]

Research into Current Neophtye Formation and Patristic Catechesis

In my M.A. and License studies at Maryvale Institute, Birmingham, I wrote and defended a dissertation on neophyte formation and patristic catechesis. This involved an empirical research element that studied responses of a questionnaire sent to 211 parishes in the Archdiocese of Westminster. It is not necessary to go into the results in any major detail here, but what was of interest was that a large majority of parishes did not appear to offer any ongoing formation during the neophyte year. Admittedly some parishes struggled in finding the extra resources and catechists to support ongoing neophyte formation. I also conducted research into sacramental participation in Sunday Eucharist, because the obligation of a Catholic “to attend Mass on Sundays and holy days of Obligation”[6] is the first precept of the Church. Participation in the Sunday Eucharist is a “testimony of belonging and of being faithful to Christ and to his Church”[7] and a way of witnessing to the truth of the Gospel.

My expectation was that a high percentage would be regularly attending weekly Sunday Eucharist as Christian living “requires being nourished through regular attendance at Mass.”[8] I also expected an enthusiasm for receiving Jesus weekly, because as the YouCat says: “Anyone who is really seeking Jesus’ friendship responds as often as possible to Jesus’ personal invitation to the feast.”[9] However, the reality was that less than 50% of those who had been through RCIA in a five year period were attending Sunday Eucharist weekly.[10] This is a worrying trend, because “some estimates indicate that as many as 50-70% of new Catholics (neophytes) cease to practice their faith within two years.”[11] This illustrates why ongoing neophyte formation should be a priority for parishes.

The sea change in the approach that American teens and young adults take in regard to Christian faith just in the last decade has been rapid, palpable, and sometimes stunning. We live in a time in which “nearly half of cradle Catholics who become ‘unaffiliated’ are gone by age eighteen. Nearly 80 percent are gone and 71 percent have already taken on an ‘unaffiliated’ identity by their early twenties.”

According to Jean Twenge, a professor of Psychology at San Diego State University, the experience of faith has been complicated even further by the staggering increase in social media usage among these same teens and young adults, which has been accompanied by a correlative increase in feelings of depression, joylessness, and uselessness—as well a significant increase in suicide attempts. One of the most notable attributes of this generation, which Twenge calls “the iGen generation,” is its marked aversion to practicing, or even identifying with, Christianity.

We have seen many of these same trends in the high school in which I have taught theology and operated as campus minister during the last twelve years, but our overwhelming experience is that underlying most teenagers’ sense of disconnect from Christ and/or their Catholic faith is a sense of pain and confusion caused by suffering in their lives. Even when they do not share these things openly, we know that our students have suffered through broken homes, health problems, various kinds of anxiety and depressive disorders, romantic breakups, betrayal from friends, drug and alcohol abuse, self-harm, and every other imaginable problem. Knowing that the students don’t always have the desire or, in some cases, the ability to share these things, we make it a priority to find a way for them to share it with the Lord.

After a few minutes’ conversation on my doorstep, a Mormon missionary asked if I was, by chance, a “born-again Christian?” “Well,” I replied, “I’m a born-again Catholic.” This idea of being “born again” made me reflect on the challenge of awakening cultural Catholics to the radical implications of the Sacrament of Baptism. Living in County Kerry—the tourist magnet of Ireland—I’ve seen the trouble American visitors take to research their family tree and locate their Irish roots. They trawl through parish registers to find out about the births, marriages, and deaths of their ancestors. (“Who are your people?” is a familiar question in this part of the country.) Perhaps we can help cradle Catholics to develop the same kind of curiosity about their spiritual roots; to find out what difference it makes, in practice, to bear their surname, not just of O’Donnell, O’Sullivan, or O’Shea but “of Christ.”[1] Pope Francis, in one of his Wednesday catecheses, asked a set of questions that could form part of a parish or family catechesis on baptismal identity. “Is Baptism, for me, a fact of the past, relegated to a date…or is it a living reality, that pertains to my present, to every moment?” “Do you feel strong with the strength that Christ gave you by his death and his Resurrection? Or do you feel low, without strength?” “Baptism gives strength and it gives light. Do you feel enlightened, with that light that comes from Christ? Are you a man or woman of light? Or are you a dark person, without the light of Jesus?” (November 13, 2013) I would like to illustrate five points, based on this catechesis, which could help Catholic families to awaken to their baptismal identity and activate its power.

Although the Eucharist is “the source and summit of the Christian life,”[i] many Catholics are unfamiliar with its rich Old Testament and Jewish background. In this article, we will look at four aspects of this background: the king-priest Melchizedek, the Passover, the manna, and the bread of the Presence.

Melchizedek: Priest of God Most High

The first prefiguration of the Eucharist goes back to the mysterious figure of Melchizedek in the book of Genesis. This Melchizedek, called “king of Salem” and “priest of God Most High,” brought out bread and wine to Abraham and blessed him (Gen 14:18-20). His name means “king of righteousness” in Hebrew, and Salem—a shortened form of “Jerusalem” (cf. Ps 76:2)—derives from the word shalom (peace), so Melchizedek’s name also means “king of peace” (cf. Heb 7:2). Melchizedek is mentioned only in two other places in the Bible. In Psalm 110, the psalmist says to the Davidic king, “You are a priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek” (Ps 110:4); and the Epistle to the Hebrews identifies this Davidic king-priest with Christ (Heb 5:6-10; 6:20-7:17). The Church sees in Melchizedek’s offering to Abraham a prefiguring of her own eucharistic offering, in which Christ is presented to the Father under the species of bread and wine.[ii]

The Passover: Redemption from Slavery

But why bread and wine? In the Old Covenant these were offered in sacrifice “among the first fruits of the earth as a sign of grateful acknowledgment to the Creator.”[iii] Bread and wine acquired a particular significance in the context of the Passover and Exodus. When God delivered Israel out of Egypt, He commanded each Israelite family to slaughter a lamb, sprinkle its blood on the doorposts of the house, then eat the roasted lamb together with bitter herbs and unleavened bread (symbolizing the bitterness of slavery and haste of their imminent departure) (Ex 12:1-11). The sprinkled blood of the lamb protected the Israelite firstborn sons from the plague against the firstborn Egyptians and marked the beginning of their redemption from slavery.

The celebration of the Passover would henceforth for the Jewish people remain a perpetual memorial of God’s deliverance.[iv] Eventually, four cups of wine were added to its commemoration, representing God’s four redemptive actions during the Exodus.[v]

Al Sacramento de la Confirmación se refiere a menudo como "un sacramento en busca de una teología", o "un sacramento en busca de sentido" entre los ministros del sacramento. Aunque los documentos catequéticos presenten una consistente teología de la Confirmación, la diversidad en la práctica pastoral de diócesis a diócesis, e incluso de parroquia a parroquia dentro de la misma diócesis, sugiere que el Sacramento de la Confirmación tuviera diferentes sentidos y hasta diferentes teologías. En lugar de esto, propongo que la diversidad en la práctica no es el resultado de una teología variable, sino que se debe a diferentes enfoques pastorales. En su libro, Confirmation: The Baby in Solomon's Court [La confirmación: el bebé en la corte de Salomón], el Pbro. Paul Turner, sacerdote de la Diócesis de la Ciudad de Kansas - San José, Missouri, describe siete modelos de praxis en la tradición cristiana.[i] Utilizando el marco referencial del P. Paul como base para mis reflexiones, he distinguido tres modelos distintos para la práctica pastoral de la Confirmación hoy en día.

El Rito de Iniciación Cristiana para Adultos: En el caso de los catecúmenos adultos, la Confirmación se celebra inmediatamente después del Bautismo, en la misma liturgia. Los niños mayores a siete años deberían de ser incluidos en este modelo. En el caso de candidatos adultos, la Confirmación se celebra con adultos que fueron bautizados como católicos pero que no siguieron con su formación en la fe, o fueron bautizados en alguna otra tradición cristiana y que deseen entrar en plena comunión con la Iglesia Católica.

La Confirmación en el orden restaurado: Algunas diócesis[ii] celebran el Sacramento de la Confirmación antes del de la Eucaristía. Este modelo restaura el orden de la celebración de los Sacramentos de Iniciación al orden que tenía la Iglesia Universal hasta el año 1910.[iii] Aunque varíe la edad de la celebración en cada diócesis, generalmente situándose entre los ocho y los diez años de edad, el orden de la celebración ubica a la Confirmación antes de la Eucaristía.

La Confirmación de Candidatos Adolescentes: El Sacramento de la Confirmación se celebra después de la Primera Eucaristía, en algún momento durante la adolescencia; hay mucha variación en la edad para esta práctica, y generalmente abarca a los jóvenes entre trece y diecisiete años de edad.

Debido a la diversidad en las edades y circunstancias de los candidatos, se utilizan muchos diferentes enfoques hoy en día. Esto presenta retos únicos, entre los cuáles existe una confusión en cuanto a la teología del sacramento.

The Sacrament of Confirmation is often referred to as “a sacrament in search of a theology” or “a sacrament in search of meaning” among pastoral ministers. Even though the catechetical documents present a consistent theology of confirmation, the diversity in pastoral practice from diocese to diocese, and even from parish to parish within the same diocese, would suggest that the Sacrament of Confirmation has different meanings and even different theologies. Instead, I propose that the diversity in praxis is not the result of a variant theology, but rather of different pastoral approaches.

It was a warm, sunny day at the end of spring. Instead of spending the beautiful Saturday according to their own wishes, our students were reluctantly settling into their seats in a classroom. I saw looks of boredom on the faces of the youth and noted the variety of ages among those present. I glanced over at the two other members of our team: a young, enthusiastic priest and a very energetic woman who taught children much younger than those gathered before us. We had been recruited to deliver a day-long Confirmation retreat for a Native American community. On our three-hour drive to reach the reservation, Father had emphasized the fact that the culture from which these participants would be coming might present different challenges from those to which we were accustomed. Looking around the room, I began to understand what he had been describing. The ages of the confirmandi ranged from 5th to 11th graders; and some parents or family members also requested to attend the retreat. The sisters who ran the catechetical side of the mission church located on the reservation had already informed us that many of these students failed to attend any kind of courses regularly, and thus their level of catechesis was inconsistent.