Servants of the New Evangelization

Last month I heard a wonderful keynote address by Cardinal Daniel DiNardo of Houston on “The Deacon as Servant of the New Evangelization.” While his comments were directed to a room full of deacons, the principles of evangelization that he identified are applicable to all Catholics:

(1) Conviction The first Christians were immersed in the Word of God. They spoke with “bold assurance”—not of their own creation, but through the power of the Holy Spirit. As we see from modern-day examples such as Mother Teresa, such conviction is not “arrogance,” but the fruit of lives turned over to Christ.

(2) Engagement It’s instructive that Luke’s sequel is called the “Acts of the Apostles” and not the “Good Intentions of the Apostles” or the “Pastoral Plan of the Apostles.” Pope Francis is calling the Church to stop focusing on internal issues and instead actively engage in the mission of Jesus for the life of the world.

(3) Bridge-building We must be bridges and not obstacles for meeting Christ. As channels of Christ’s peace, we must adapt to the needs of those around us. A good New Testament role model is Barnabas, the “son of encouragement” (Acts 4:36) who made it possible for St. Paul to become the great Apostle to the Gentiles. Do I make it possible for others to shine, or is it about “me” or “my ministry”?

(4) Remember the poor Cardinal DiNardo recounted the story from the conclave that as it appeared that Cardinal Bergoglio would be elected, Cardinal Hummes turned to the future pope and whispered, “Always remember the poor.” We hear talk of “transforming the culture” and sometimes it seems very abstract. What it means in large part is making works of mercy and charity a greater part of who we are as Church. It’s not rocket science: helping people who need material or spiritual help is the basic building block of renewal.

(5) Use words A “tsunami of secularism” is battering our society. We’re deceiving ourselves if we believe that our society is even neutral when it comes to the Christian faith. Sadly, our culture has largely cut itself off from God. Even within the Church, there are many who go through the motions without a close personal relationship with the Lord.

Do we need to pray and set a good Christian example? Of course. But it can’t end there. Pope Francis understands that we have to talk to people about Jesus. After all, the Church exists to evangelize, to call everyone to salvation in Christ through the forgiveness of sins.

That’s our story, and today all priests, deacons, religious, and laity must take up the Holy Father’s challenge to invite others to a life-changing relationship with Christ in His Church.

The Gift of Faith

As I seem to be in dialogue so frequently with friends and relatives these days who have lost the faith (or never had it to begin with), I recently had the occasion to review my response to this question that I received via email a couple years ago: “Does everyone receive the gift of faith? Why or why not?”

During this “Year of Faith,” I think it’s especially important for to consider these most fundamental questions.

What follows is my response to the questioner. I welcome others’ comments and insights on this subject.

“If we mean by ‘faith’ an explicit belief in the person and teachings of Our Lord Jesus Christ, then clearly not everyone has received the gift of faith. That’s why the Church’s perennial mission is evangelization–to offer the gift of faith to all men and women. All of us play a role in that effort.

“And while we cannot judge the state of individual souls, it would also seem that there are those who have been invited, but have rejected the invitation (cf. Lk. 14:15-24).

“While I cannot pretend to know ‘God’s thoughts’ on this, as my thoughts are not His thoughts and my ways are not His ways (Is. 55:8-9), I would like to offer a couple observations that shed light on this crucial issue.

“First, faith is very much a personal gift. We all are called to answer for ourselves Our Lord’s question, ‘Who do you say that I am?’ (Mt. 16:15). If someone were to offer us a $100 bill, no strings attached, we might wonder why others weren’t given a similar offer, but at the end of the day we still have to accept or reject the offer that was personally made to us.

“Second, God wills that all be saved and come to the knowledge of truth (1 Tim. 2:4). The ordinary way that this occurs is through the gift of faith received at Baptism. However, God does not place limits on Himself. He is all good and willed the existence of every man and woman who has ever lived. So, the Church holds out the possibility of salvation to all those who have not knowingly and willingly rejected Him. In that regard, perhaps the parable of the talents is useful. As Catholics we have been given 10 talents, so more is expected of us. However, those who were given only 5 or 2 or even just 1 talent will be judged worthy to enter our heavenly Father’s kingdom if he or she fruitfully uses whatever talents they were given.

“How God works with those who do not have explicit faith is a mystery that’s beyond us in this life, but surely we know that a person is better off with faith and with all the graces that derive from being a faithful disciple of Christ. Indeed, we were made for life with God as Christ’s brothers and sisters, so using our ‘10 talents’ well involves our inviting those around us to the wonderful life of grace that God has in store for us in this life and in the next.”

I Wanna Know What Hope Is

There was a popular song by the rock band Foreigner some years ago entitled, “I Wanna Know What Love Is.” I think the song title is reflective of the thirst we all have to know and experience true love, which can be so elusive in light of all the counterfeits that surround us.

While there are no hit songs about it, I think we also want to know what hope is. So many people go through the day without realizing that there is hope for them. Others have given way to despair or presumption (cf. Catechism, nos. 2091-92).

For those of us who want to know what hope is, we have the following passage from St. Paul (Phil. 3:12-14) as part of the second reading at Mass this Sunday. For my money, it is the most profound reflection on Christian hope found in all of Scripture:

It is not that I have already taken hold of it
or have already attained perfect maturity,
but I continue my pursuit in hope that I may possess it,
since I have indeed been taken possession of by Christ Jesus.
Brothers and sisters, I for my part
do not consider myself to have taken possession.
Just one thing: forgetting what lies behind
but straining forward to what lies ahead,
I continue my pursuit toward the goal,
the prize of God’s upward calling, in Christ Jesus.

St. Thomas teaches us that hope is oriented toward a future, difficult good. Let’s briefly look at that from the perspective of natural hope. Hope deals with the future, as it wouldn’t make sense to hope for something that has already happened. Hope deals with the difficult, or at least uncertain. I don’t hope that tomorrow is Friday, because there’s no reasonable chance (barring the Second Coming!) of tomorrow not being Friday. And hope pertains to the good, as we only hope for things that at least seem good to us.

Let’s take it up a notch, and see how this applies to the theological virtue of hope, which helps those of us who have not yet reached “the prize of God’s upward calling” (Phil. 3:14; cf. Catechism, nos. 1817-21). Our hope is ordered to the future. We have been reborn in Christ, but we still haven’t reached our eternal destination. Our hope pertains to the difficult, or uncertain (in fact, the humanly impossible–see Mt. 19:25-26). Now this one can be tricky, as we joyfully affirm that God is true to His promises. We can count on His gracious assistance. The difficulty or uncertainty comes into play because of human freedom. Even though God offers us heaven, we remain free to reject Him through unrepented mortal sin. We all must persevere through some spiritual battles before happily coming to the end of our earthly pilgrimage.

And finally our hope is ordered to our ultimate good, which eye has not seen and ear has not heard (1 Cor. 2:9).

So in these remaining days of Lent, as we embrace our new Holy Father Francis, let’s strain forward to what lies ahead, as we redouble our commitment to our beloved Savior.

FOCUS on New Evangelization

Curtis Martin with Cardinal Dolan at Synod on the New Evangelization

My long-time friend Curtis Martin, the founder and president of the Denver-based Fellowship of Catholic University Students (“FOCUS”) was a participant at the recent Synod on the New Evangelization in Rome. Here is the short, but powerful, message (or “intervention”) that he gave at the Synod:

“I find it helpful to understand the New Evangelization as a means to fulfilling the central theme of Vatican II, the universal call to holiness.

The Catholic laity must accept their co-responsibility to evangelize. In my work with university students we have used a simple three-step process to form disciples: Win, Build, Send.

Win: We who have encountered Jesus must go out and love people, because Christ first loved us. In the midst of our friendships with them, we introduce them to our greatest friend, Jesus.

Build: Once they have encountered Jesus, we build them up in the knowledge and practice of the faith. There is a crisis of faith and many Catholics have not embraced the teachings of the Church; they do not know that Jesus is truly present in the Eucharist, or about the inerrancy of Sacred Scripture. They have not accepted the difficult teachings, such as Humanae Vitae. Without the fullness of Catholic faith, authentic renewal is impossible. We must be transformed.

Send: As these young disciples grow in their practice of the faith, they are sent out, with our continued care, to begin the process anew. Holiness will take a lifetime, but the work of evangelization can begin shortly after an authentic encounter with Jesus; think of the Samaritan woman at the well.

Here are some of the benefits of discipleship:

(1) Everyone can do this, it is universal.
(2) This is based upon friendship; therefore everyone involved is known, loved, and cared for.
(3) Evangelized people discern their vocations.
(4) The exponential power of this biblical model is unmatched in its ability to reach the world.
Jesus told us: “It is to the glory of my Father that you should bear much fruit and be my disciples” (John 15:8).

The Parish Family

“Listen graciously to the prayers of this family, whom you have summoned before you.”

—Eucharistic Prayer III

What do we think of when our parish priest reads these words at Mass? Are we alert enough to hear and embrace this petition? Do we consider this reference to our being a “family” a merely poetic expression or pious exaggeration? Or do we embrace in faith the reality that all of us gathered for Sunday Mass are, in fact, members of the Family of God?

Catholic theology since Vatican II has emphasized the reality that the Church is truly the “Family of God.” Why? Because, through our Baptism, each one of us has been “born again” as a child of God. We participate–even now–in God’s own life. And this life is familial, not solitary. As Blessed John Paul II wrote in 1979, “God in His deepest mystery is not a solitude, but a family, since He has in Himself fatherhood, sonship, and the essence of the family, which is love.”

Further, according to Pope Benedict XVI in his 2005 encyclical letter Deus Caritas Est, our heavenly Father’s desire is to unite all people into one family in Christ:

“The Spirit is also the energy which transforms the heart of the ecclesial community, so that it becomes a witness before the world to the love of the Father, who wishes to make humanity a single family in his Son” (no. 19).

How refreshing it is to understand the Church as a family, rather than as merely an impersonal institution or even a congregation of isolated individuals who all happen to believe in Jesus. This understanding is especially challenging today, since we’ve largely lost our sense of “family” and many of us have been wounded by brokenness and division within our own families.

A family is where our home is. It is where we should always be welcome. This is especially true when it comes to God’s family, from which all other families derive their existence, as we hear in today’s reading at Mass(cf. Eph. 3:14-15). My favorite image in this regard is the parable of the prodigal son, which reveals how welcoming and merciful Our Heavenly Father truly is.

While God’s family in the Old Testament was built on the twelve sons of Israel, God’s New Testament family is built on the firm foundation of the twelve apostles (cf. Eph. 2:19-20). Bishops, who are the successors of the apostles, have been called by Christ to be our spiritual fathers. They are the visible source and foundation of family unity within their own diocese (cf. Catechism, no. 886). That is why St. Ignatius, Bishop of Antioch and a disciple of St. John the Apostle, would write in 110 A.D.: “Those, indeed, who belong to God and to Jesus Christ–they are with the bishop.”

From the earliest times, there have been presbyters (“priests”) who have been given the mission of assisting the bishop in spiritually fathering God’s family in local communities that have come to be known as parishes. These communities–my parish and your parish–are local manifestations of God’s family, a family that brings together people of every race and nation, that encompasses not only the pilgrim Church on earth, but all those who have died in God’s friendship. What a magnificent family we have–what great love the Father has bestowed on us in making us His children (1 Jn. 3:1)!

Yet we all know that our own experience of Church–in our own parishes and throughout our country–sometimes makes it difficult to view the Church as family. All too often we encounter polarization and dissent instead of family unity. Therefore, I’d like to propose some practical things we can do as lay people to build up the Family of God in our own backyard.

Where’s the Blood?

“The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.”

This ancient Christian maxim hits home in a particular way today as we celebrate the feast of Sts. Isaac Jogues, John de Brebeuf, and companions, commonly known as the “North American Martyrs.” I remember what an awesome and humbling experience it was to stand in the very spot in Auriesville, New York, where Rene Goupil, the first of the group to be martyred, shed his blood for Christ.

Yet the northeastern United States and Canada, where the North American Martyrs labored so courageously for Christ in the 17th century, are hardly hotbeds of Christian faith today. What do we make of this?

Know the Lord!

I am sure many homilists today will focus on the Gospel, and rightly so, as we hear the critically important exchange between Our Lord and St. Peter in Matthew 16, where Our Lord refers to Peter as the “rock” on whom He will build His Church.

Here, however, I’d like to focus our attention on the first reading, from the prophet Jeremiah, in which he foretells a new covenant between God and His exiled people (Jer.31:31). God has been gradually forming His people throughout salvation history through a series of covenants, as with Noah, Abraham, Moses, and David. Now Jeremiah foretells a new covenant unlike the others.

God’s law, in the form of the Ten Commandments, was written on stone tablets, instructing the people how to live in right relationship with God. Yet these commandments did not come with the grace to keep them. They were more like instructions for playing a new sport or musical instrument, containing many “thou shall nots.” They were imposed from the outside and the people had to adjust to them, often by trial and error. The commandments seemed burdensome to a stiff-necked people that was not always willing to be taught or led (sound familiar?). As Jeremiah notes, the people were not faithful to their covenant with God (cf. Jer. 31:32).

Jeremiah says that the new covenant will not be a law imposed from the outside, as on stone tablets, but a law on the “inside,” written on the human heart (Jer. 31:31). This new interior law will become part of who they are. They will no longer need “lessons” or tedious practice, as with a sport or an instrument, but rather God’s law will become second nature to them.

With Christ, we see the fulfillment of this prophecy. The law has taken flesh. The Holy Spirit now dwells within us, transforming us. And each time we receive Jesus in Holy Communion, we welcome Our Lord into our bodies and into our hearts, renewing and strengthening the grace we received at Baptism.

Jeremiah says that when the prophecy is fulfilled, the people will “know the Lord” (Jer. 31:34). How well do I know the Lord? Is it evident to those around me that I know the Lord? Do I joyfully welcome God’s law into my heart, or do I offer resistance, preferring my own way instead?

In the Church’s wisdom, we are called today to revisit these and similar questions, as we recommit ourselves to Christ and the Church He founded on the rock.

Reality Church

Business Lessons Learned from Reality Television — sxc.hu/ba1969

Surely one of the “lowlights” of today’s culture is “reality TV.” These programs have no plot, no substance, and no enduring value. And ironically, one hallmark of “reality TV” is that it’s eerily unreal. Staged spontaneity is neither good drama nor real living.

Tragically, the radical subjectivism of our secular society that’s reflected in reality TV has crept into the popular understanding of the Church. In fact, it’s everywhere, from so-called “do-it-yourself” liturgies to “experience-based” catechesis. It’s present in the alarming trend to treat definitive Church teachings as merely a la carte items on the Catholic menu. We see it, too, in the democratizing elements in the Church, reflected in recent decades by dissident organizations such as Call to Action and Voice of the Faithful.

These and similar developments suggest that in sending His Son to redeem us, God had no clear plan or structure in mind for applying the merits of Christ’s sacrifice and gathering all men and women to Himself. And so, many people do not avail themselves of the miracle of Pentecost, by which the Holy Spirit unites us to God and to one another in His Church. Instead, many opt to become “Babel Christians” (cf. Gen. 11:4), choosing to build an ecclesial edifice, such as it is, according to their own whims and preferences.

Against this backdrop, we have Lumen Gentium (Light of the Nations), the central document of the Second Vatican Council, which examines the mystery of the Church. Vatican II employed many terms and images to describe the Church, but perhaps the most fundamental and profound concept the Church uses to describe herself is “communion.” By this is meant the Church’s role and mission to unite us with the Trinity and with one another.

What the Church means by an “ecclesiology of communion,” or even by the Church as the “Family of God,” is a huge topic. Here I want to emphasize that this image of the Church provides an essential corrective to the radical subjectivism and relativism that drain the life out of the Church’s evangelistic efforts.

The Church, after all, is at once an objective and subjective reality. By “objective reality,” I simply mean that we can talk about the Church in the third person, as an “it”–or better yet, since the Church is the Bride of Christ and our mother, “she.” The Church already has meaning, shape, and structure that God has given to her. She is what she is. When the Church invites us to “communion” with her, we participate in her life. We enter the reality of the Church, not the other way around.

At the same time, the Church is not indifferent to our participation. Rather, she desires to bring all men and women into the fold. As part of the “communion” of saints, we no longer stand outside the Church as mere spectators, but instead we can in some sense refer to the Church as “we”–not because we have authority or a “vote,” but because we have grace.

This dynamic is reflected well in Sacred Scripture. The Bible is the inspired Word of God that objectively records God’s plan for mankind. Yet it also is ordered to our entering into the pages, as we take our own place in salvation history.

This truth is also reflected in the fact that we use the word “faith” in two distinct yet related ways.

When we refer to “the” faith we’re talking about the height, depth, and width of the deposit of faith–all that God has revealed to us through Christ for our salvation. The deposit of faith is revealed truth, so it is not negotiable. Rather, in docility and obedience to the Holy Spirit, we must conform ourselves to the objective data of divine revelation.

At the same time, we rightly refer to “my” faith, which refers to our own personal acceptance of what God has revealed to us through His Church. Even more fundamentally, it refers to our own personal relationship with Jesus Christ, the one Savior of the world.

These two meanings of faith necessarily go together. Jesus has stern words in Scripture for those who would profess a personal belief in Him yet reject His teachings and commands. At the same time, accepting the Church without a living relationship with our Lord is of no avail. It’s like having a body without a heart.

In the Greek, the Church is considered a “mysterion.” In Latin, this is rendered both as “mysterium” (“mystery”) and as “sacramentum” (“sacrament”). The Church is in the nature of mystery, as it entails spiritual realities beyond our perception and comprehension. But the Church is also in the nature of sacrament, and as such is called to be a visible sign of Christ to the world. Because of this, our own communion with or connection to the Church is not just personal and spiritual, but also communal and visible.

The concept of “communion” implies a principle of unity. The contemporary question of “how much can I dissent and still be considered a Catholic?” implies a principle of disunity or plurality. It really is a wrong-headed and spiritually dangerous question. It’s like asking “how unfaithful can I be to my wife and still be considered a married man?”

“Visible communion” with the Church means, among other things, professing the Catholic faith and submitting to legitimate Church authority. After all, in matters of faith and morals the Church teaches with the authority of Christ, who told His apostles, “He who hears you hears me” (Lk. 10:16). The rejection of such teaching is a sin against the virtue of faith.

Some Catholics today assert the right to decide for themselves which of our Lord’s teachings they are willing to accept. They stand in judgment of the Church as their own pope, picking and choosing among Church teachings.

However, if we only accept doctrines that “work for us,” then we’re not talking about faith, because faith entails the acceptance of all that Our Lord has revealed through His Church, based on His own authority. Mere agreement is not the same as faith, because then we’re putting Christ’s teachings through an approval process, rejecting anything that seems unacceptable to us.

Once we admit the possibility of dissent from definitive Church teaching, there really is no principled basis to limit this cancer in the Church. How many of Christ’s teachings can I reject and still be His faithful disciple?

All of this matters because our salvation depends on our cooperation with the undeserved gift of sanctifying grace that unites us to God and to one another. “Visible communion” may reveal our vital signs, but grace is our source of life. The challenge for lay Catholics everywhere is to allow this new life to transform us and, through us, the world.

When Christ comes to us, most especially through the gift of His Body and Blood in the Eucharist, it’s not to diminish, impede, or conceal His light, but to multiply it. He uses each one of us as His lamps in the world. We are the “light of the world” only insofar as Christ shines through us, as He did through she who was “full of grace.” All generations call Mary blessed (Lk. 1:48) because of the marvelous way she “magnified” the light of Christ through her cooperation with divine grace.

May our Lady, Mother of the Church, draw all her children into more perfect communion with her Son, who truly is Lumen Gentium, the Light of the World.

Who’s Your Teacher?

Every year during Holy Week, my family puts out an Easter display, which, like the more familiar Nativity scenes, provides a tangible image of the events of the particular liturgical season. After the Easter Vigil, we roll the rock away from the opening of the tomb and remove the resurrected Jesus.

One Easter morning, I asked my then-four-year-old son, Samuel, whether he had checked out Jesus’ tomb. He ran downstairs to investigate, much like Peter and John did on the first Easter morning. I was so pleased; everything was going as planned.

However, Samuel soon came back and reported, “He wasn’t in there, so I put Him back in.” (Pause for chuckling.) “Where did you find Jesus?” I asked, to which he innocently replied, “Over by the television.”

Obviously, my wife and I have much more work to do with Samuel and our other children to ensure that they understand the central mysteries of our faith. Like Samuel with the Easter scene, not every lesson has been a smashing success, but we realize that we cannot lose heart, because teaching our children the ABC s of the faith is a crucially important responsibility. The Church tells us, after all, that because we are parents, we necessarily are teachers.

In today’s Gospel we hear, “As for you, do not be called ‘Rabbi’ [or ‘teacher’]. You have but one teacher, and you are all brothers” (Mt. 23:8). This is from the same discourse in which Jesus says, “Call no one on earth your father” (Mt. 23:9). Does Jesus really mean that we should avoid using these titles? Of course not. After all, these terms continued to be used by Christ’s followers in the New Testament after this discourse, and they have been continuously used throughout the history of the Church.

One incident in St. John’s Gospel sheds particular light on the nature of Christ’s teaching. On this occasion, the Jews marveled at Our Lord’s teaching and asked, “How is it that this man has learning, when he has never studied?” Jesus responded by saying, “My teaching is not mine, but his who sent me” (Jn. 7:15-16). Jesus’ religious teaching was authentic because it came from His Father. It was a question of divine authority, not mere human learning or ingenuity, no matter how clever or insightful.

That same principle applies to all of us. We’re authentic teachers (or, more technically, “catechists”) to the extent we communicate the person and teachings of Christ rather than our own opinions or agendas. While we rightly adjust the way we communicate the teaching depending on age, culture, and other variables, Christ is “the same yesterday, today, and forever” (Heb. 13:8), and His teachings are true in every age. Christ commissioned the Apostles–and all of us–to pass on His teachings (see Mt. 28:19-20).

As Catholics, we understand that the Church’s magisterium, or official teaching office, alone has “the task of giving an authentic interpretation of the Word of God, whether in its written form or in the form of Tradition.” This refers to the special gift of the Holy Spirit given to the Apostles and their successors to ensure that no “break” occurs in the teaching chain. In other words, Jesus entrusts what He received from the Father to the Church, so that when the Church teaches, God Himself is teaching (cf. Lk. 10:16).

Some Catholics experience difficulty accepting a “magisterium.” The word comes from the Latin “magister,” which simply means “teacher.” However, for many people the term has negative, perhaps very negative, connotations. If one looks up “magisterial” in the dictionary, one finds secondary meanings such as “dictatorial,” “imposing one’s will,” “overbearing,” and “pompous,” among others. These negative connotations sometimes carry over into one’s perception of the Church.

As we know, the magisterium is hardly a dictatorship. In fact, the Church teaches us that the magisterium is not superior to the Word of God, but is its servant. But let’s face it: In today’s “dictatorship of relativism,” as Pope Benedict has described the present climate, the assertion of objective, revealed truth as represented by the magisterium is an affront and a stumbling block. We are taught to choose and create our own truth, particularly in moral areas in which our inclinations and desires might clash with “magisterial” teaching.

Dual Citizenship

Even though it’s written on our souls rather than our passports, our true home is heaven. As God’s children by adoption (cf. Gal. 4:4-7), we are citizens of both the earthly kingdom and the heavenly kingdom.

There is one significant difference between our earthly citizenship and our heavenly citizenship. As citizens of this world, we strive to change the world for the better through our participation in human endeavors, great or small. We must be thermostats, not thermometers as we seek a cultural “climate change.”

Rather than conform to the world and simply reflect the secular mindset of the status quo, we are called to be counter-cultural agents of renewal and reconciliation (cf. 2 Cor. 5:17-20) as we strive to build a civilization of life and love. Our Lord calls us to be leaven in the world; just “fitting in” doesn’t quite cut it.

After all, as Catholics we have the advantage of the fullness of revealed truth. We also have a rich corpus of social teaching and a developed sense of the natural law that the Magisterium preserves from error–or social engineering. The Church’s urgent call to Catholic laity today is that we use these blessings to help transform the temporal order, including social, political, and economic realities, especially in the upcoming Year of Faith.

As citizens of heaven, though, we strive to allow the Lord to change us through our participation in the communion of saints.