"THE GAP"
(adapted from the lead post for the Catechism of the Catholic Church Internet Study Group, 2/10/03.)

I want to talk about “the gap.”

In case I haven’t mentioned it here before, I was a practicing Zen Buddhist for about ten years. In Zen, and in Buddhism in general, there is no difference, none whatsoever, between what we are, and the ultimate reality of the universe. All is oneness, buddha-nature. The fact that we don’t live this experience of oneness, but are confronted with conflict, evil, and weakness, both within and without, is attributed to delusion, pure and simple. Remove the delusion, through meditation, and we see the truth and are one with the truth. Another way to put this is that we are whole and perfect in ourselves, and are merely under the delusion that we are imperfect creatures.

In the pervasive brew of new-age spirituality and self-help psychology which has inundated our society and culture, this idea, or some form of it, often lies at the center. I’m OK and you’re OK. Everything is great when we just “let go” and stop making ourselves miserable. Nirvana is right around the corner – just a few more months, or years, or decades, of counseling and therapy. All real human problems have already been solved on Oprah. With the right sensitivity training, conflicts will just disappear by themselves. Just a few more Dr. Phil books, and…

And what? One can’t help but notice that we’ve been at this, heavily and intensely, since the sixties at least. By all reasonable reckoning, we should have arrived at social, cultural, psychological, and spiritual enlightenment long before this. Since we haven’t, we just keep tweaking away, convinced that the next psychological self-manipulation we apply will finally do the trick.

Yes, I know that as well as distorted and self-aggrandized versions, there are also appropriate uses for psychology and therapy. Most of us do have some hang-ups that we would be better off without, and it’s even possible that we can learn one or two things from Oprah and Dr. Phil (mind you I said one or two…). But it’s the distorted and self-aggrandized versions that have insinuated themselves into our culture, even into our religious culture.

In stark contrast to this cultural happy-face approach to absolute reality, the Catholic Church teaches us that our very human nature is fallen and subject to sin and the inclination toward sin. We are no longer in the Garden, we are not yet in heaven, and we are most certainly not simply identical to God Himself. In other words, there is a “gap.” This gap is the distance between our lives on earth and our destiny of sharing in God’s divine life in heaven. It’s not an impenetrable wall. There’s lots of “communication” that crosses the gap, such as prayer, grace, images of heaven, experiences of God’s presence. But we, ourselves, cannot cross it completely in this life.

We may not like it, but the gap is real, and very serious. The “strange brew” spirituality whispers in our ear to relax, enjoy ourselves, that we’re already home, all we have to do is wake up and realize it. The Gospels tell us straight out that we’re not Home, that we can in fact lose our way and never get Home, and that if we do want to get there, we’ve got some hard work to do. The gap can be closed, but it can also be widened, and the wider the gap, the greater our spiritual risk. The Church exhorts us to pay attention to the gap, to do what we can to close it, to pray for help from the “other side” of the gap, and to receive the sacraments to get that help.

There are many things we can do to lessen the gap. When we grow in holiness, we lessen the gap. When we pray we lessen the gap. When we follow Jesus’ teaching to love others as He loved us, we lessen the gap. When we visit the sick, feed the hungry, or smile kindly at someone who expects us to be indifferent, we lessen the gap. All of these things, of course, require help from “the other side” of the gap, help from the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. We don’t just push our way through, we have to be pulled. But we cannot simply passively wait to be pulled. We have to dispose ourselves properly to respond to the “pull”. It’s quite clear from numerous Gospel passages that we have to actively believe things, and we have to actively do things. In this sense, even though by itself it can never be enough, we have to “push.”

But by ourselves alone, we can never make it across the gap.

John of the Cross, by all accounts, often experienced profound union with God. It’s said that he used to walk down the halls of a monastery banging his knuckles hard against the wall every so often. When required to explain this behavior, he said it was because he needed the pain to stay focused on what he was doing in the concrete moment, otherwise he felt he would fall so deeply into contemplation and experience of God that he wouldn’t be able to function. Yet he wrote and taught clearly and unequivocally that union with God, no matter how profound, was never complete in this life. In his great poem The Living Flame of Love, he wrote the line, “…if it be your will…tear through the veil of this sweet encounter!” He explained that this meant that while in this life, even in the deepest mystical state, there still at least a thin veil remaining between us and the Beatific Vision. Even for John, however thin, there was still a gap.

In the sacraments, we humbly ask for, and receive, grace from across the gap. It pulls us closer, even when we don’t directly feel that. That’s one reason why it’s so important to embrace the truth of the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. It’s not just a symbol, designed to make us better people, to put us in fellowship with others, or to make us feel better ourselves. It is a Reality, that acts to “pull” us across the gap. Not all at once in this life, but little by blessed grace-filled little.

It’s the same with the other sacraments. Particularly with those that can be received regularly, e.g. Eucharist and Penance, we have the opportunity to receive that grace which enables us to close the gap. Not to take advantage of this is to literally deprive ourselves of the help we need the most, to tolerate a “gap” that’s larger than it need be, and to increase the risk that the gap will widen, not close.

There is a very interesting discussion going on in the comments to the latest Ragged Edge blog on liturgy, particularly between Larry Kropp, Ragged’s author, and Steven Riddle of Flos Carmeli. I’m not going to recap it here, but you can read it at The Ragged Edge. The following is not a response to any imputed positions of either of the writers mentioned above, but rather represents some thoughts on certain issues which that discussion raises.

The agendas, goals, objectives, and motivations of others are not entirely irrelevant, instead they are very relevant. The notion that we cannot make any “assumptions” about the inner lives of other people is an invention of modern popular psychology imbued with pseudo-spiritual ideas from the “strange brew” of such, actively present in western culture for most of the 20th century, and gaining near-dominance in the last 40 years. Modern popular psychology, despite its claims and veneer, is very far from being something that can advance our spiritual lives. It is about the pursuit of power and pleasure. The euphemism for power is “taking control of our lives”, and the parallel approach with pleasure is the attempt to remove all stress from our psyches so that we can “get our needs met” more fully. Being about power and pleasure, modern psychology is much more closely related to alchemy and black magic, than it is to any genuine help to spiritual growth. It is in the service of reducing stress and conflict that it encourages us to disengage our consciences whenever possible, and especially where other people are concerned.

But take the times of John of the Cross, for instance. In his day, a man who was a drunkard and neglected his family would have been seen as a sinner. John would have prayed for him all the harder, out of his depth of charity. A priest who changed the Mass to suit his own ideas would have been seen as nothing less than a heretic. Again, John and Teresa would have prayed for him all the harder because of it. But they would also have taken him sternly to task for it, not mincing words, precisely out of charity both for him and for those he might influence. I don’t think they would have thrown up their hands and said “Gee, we just don’t know what this guy is thinking, maybe he’s just trying to help…”

Returning to the subject of assumptions, I will assert something that I believe is obvious if a modicum of consideration is given to it. We make assumptions all the time, we cannot do without them, and there is nothing wrong about the process per se. As with so many other things in modern life, we tend to confuse process with content. An assumption may be perfectly valid and true. In this case it’s a good assumption and we’re right to act on it appropriately. Or it may be invalid and false. In that case it’s a bad assumption, and we’re wrong to act on it.

What assumptions can we make about the priest in Larry’s example? I would say this – if the motivation is to make things more “relevant” and “meaningful”, why don’t we ever, ever, ever hear of anyone saying “In order to make the Mass more relevant and meaningful to people, I’m going to stick strictly to the rubrics of the Roman rite, in letter and in spirit”? It’s because the rhetoric of “meaningfulness” when applied to tinkering with the Mass, is invariably used to justify changes in the direction of personal creativity, psychological comfort, blurring of the edges of doctrine, and trying to make the Mass into a sort of spiritual dinner party among good friends, instead of a sacramental celebration of the ultimate sacrifice that was made for us, and which, by the way, we will, in some form or fashion, be asked to imitate.

So I think we are entitled to assume that the priest in this case, having been thoroughly trained in the correct way to celebrate the Mass, had some knowledge of what he was doing and can be held responsible for it. He was also violating the rights of all the Catholics present at that Mass to have the Mass presented properly. Under Canon Law, we have the right to proper sacraments; this is not just a favor that is offered to us.

And since what we’re talking about is the sacrament that lies both at the center and summit of Catholic spiritual life, probably the most important help to our sanctification and salvation, intentionally compromising it for any reason cannot reasonably be viewed as a morally neutral act. There certainly is not enough evidence for us to conclude that the priest is an evil man. Here, like it or not, we are obligated to give the benefit of the doubt, but that’s because there is doubt (we cannot very well give the benefit of the doubt unless some doubt is present). If we don’t give it when appropriate, we risk the slow death of charity in our hearts, and the Church strongly admonishes us that without perseverance in charity, we cannot be saved. But I believe that we are perfectly justified in saying he did something wrong, really wrong, and not just sincerely misguided. And having concluded this, we must pray for him strenuously, just as John would have done.

It’s true that, as the Church teaches, we cannot know in detail the state of another person’s soul. But that’s not because we are clueless about it, it’s because a human soul is very deep, and only God can see to the bottom of it. The Catechism teaches us that we are entitled to recognize an objective wrong. Indeed we have to when confronted with it, otherwise we put the health of our own conscience at risk. But having recognized the wrong, we are still bound to respond to it in a Christian manner.

There really is such a thing as “tough love.” Jesus modeled it for us many times. But in that phrase “tough love”, we have to keep straight about which word is the noun, and which is just an adjective. We have to make sure that it is indeed love, which in some circumstances must take on a quality of toughness, and not just toughness with some love thrown in or claimed as a rationalization.

Recipe for Modern “Spirituality” – Take Truth, Add a Lot of Water, Stir Until Dissolved

When I was growing up, children in Catholic schools were still taught some doctrine and dogma, usually by nuns who did their best to explain things. Of course they knew that we children wouldn’t understand very deeply or clearly, and so they did what every good parent does when there is an urgent need for their child to behave in a certain way (not crossing a busy street without their parents) or even to simply believe certain things (e.g. to believe that we, the parents, will always be there to take care of them even if we get irritable or even angry sometimes). They instructed us to give the “assent of faith” to the things we were being taught. And we did. Because in spite of the hostility of modern thinking towards “taking things on faith”, no young child regards this as an unreasonable request, since they know intuitively and through experience that those adults entrusted with their care comprehend the world and its meaning better than children do (at least in some ways!).

As adults, we have to revisit these doctrines and try to understand them more maturely and fully. This is much more difficult, because even though our minds have certain limited advantages over the mind of a child, such as knowledge and experience, we do live in a world which is hostile to dogma of any kind, without necessary reference to the content of the dogma, but on principle. This is not a recent development, but was well under way in the early 20th century, as Chesterton attested to, and probably began in earnest in the 18th century, with the so-called “enlightenment” movement. It takes a strong swimmer to persistently resist the current of the river, and takes a strong mind to resist the currents of thought in the society around us. Most of us probably show our “fallen” colors in this regard, at least at times. So, as adults, if we are to be believers who have any idea of what they are believers in, we must be catechized as adults. And this brings us smack up against doctrine, and dogma.

But not only is our culture hostile to dogma, it even suggests a substitute, “spirituality”, and further suggests that it can be divorced from doctrinal teaching. In its use of this term “spirituality,” modern culture means subjective religious feelings or emotions of some kind, however vague or confused they might be. And it strongly hints that doctrine, the content and meaning of religious teachings, actually interferes with “spirituality.” It gives no compelling or persuasive arguments as to why this should be, but it expects every good obedient modern-thinking person to agree with it.

It would, indeed, be so much easier if the Church just went with the flow, softened the “rough edges” of its teaching, the things people have difficulty with, things like the virgin birth of Jesus, his miracles, his resurrection, the Assumption of Mary, etc. The Church could be much more popular if it did this, especially if it then emphasized only the good feelings that come with true faith, the friendships to be found, the practical help for living, etc. People would flock to it, fill its pews, and fill its coffers.

But they would be flocking to it for the wrong reasons, in fact for reasons exactly opposite to the right ones. They would be flocking to it because it reinforced what they already had some of, and offered them the chance to get more of it; we always prefer linear progress to any sort of risk or discontinuity. They would not be coming for the right reason – that there was something there which they do not possess on their own, which they are not capable of inventing or producing, something which represents a great risk because of its mystery, something which entails a discontinuity, or “leap of faith.” They would not be coming for Truth, and the Grace associated with it.

We can invent a watered-down version of Christianity, with minimal doctrine, and we can make it extremely attractive to modern sensibilities. It would be popular, and it would be very, very pleasing.

The problem is, it would not be inspiring. No one would commit his or her life to it in any real sense. No one would give up their life for it, because it would exist in the first place to make this present life more pleasant, and no one is willing to die to make their life more pleasant.

Only the Truth can truly inspire, and only Grace can give us the strength to live out that inspiration.

And this is the crucial, the indispensable connection between doctrine and spirituality, that doctrine is a formulation of “the Fullness of Truth,” and it is always this Truth that inspires a true spiritual life.

Community? Or "The Communion of Saints"?

In the Catechism of the Catholic Church, paragraphs 946 - 962 gives fascinating insight into “the Communion of Saints." It begins by saying that “the Communion of Saints is the Church” (946), and after going into more detail, summarizes by saying “We believe in the communion of all the faithful of Christ, those who are pilgrims on earth, the dead who are being purified, and the blessed in heaven, all together forming one Church; and we believe that in this communion, the merciful love of God and his saints is always [attentive] to our prayers” (962). What a beautiful statement, and a what beautiful truth.

Perhaps this way of looking at the “Communion of Saints” is a good way to correct what strikes me as a distortion that can occur among the Catholics of today. Part of the “wine back into water” movement, which insists that every theological and spiritual truth must be denuded of its mystery and explained purely in terms of mundane everyday life, so that we can understand it roughly in the same way we understand a toaster (thereby inevitably rendering it about as spiritually profound as a toaster) is the tendency to not only overly emphasize the “community” aspect of parish life, not only to elevate it to the top priority of parish life, but to try to eliminate or minimize anything that might compete with it, such as the true supernatural understanding of Grace and the sacraments. I think of this as “false communitarianism”.

Of course not every parish falls into this, and not every manifestation of the very good and necessary community life of a parish is an instance of this distortion. And even the “shallower” aspects of community are gifts of God – sometimes it’s just fun to be together, and fun, real fun, is very definitely a wonderful gift of God. But strangely, a definite tendency appears to take this one aspect, community on the human level, and use it as a club to drive away the mystery and the supernatural. Over and over again, I hear people assert, sometimes with emphasis approaching aggression, that “I come here mainly for the people, the community,” or “the most important part of the Mass is the sign of peace,” etc. Books have been written trying to equate the spiritual truths of the sacred mysteries of the liturgy with those of a good dinner party at home with friends.

Again, I have nothing against a good gathering of friends – such times are truly gifts from our heavenly Father, and can be filled with their own grace. But successfully equate two things and one of them becomes, to appearances at least, superfluous. Successfully convince people that the liturgy equates to a good dinner party and you will not convince them to stop having dinner parties because they are no longer necessary. You will instead convince many of them to stop participating in the liturgy because it appears to them superfluous. And we know that, over the last several decades, this is exactly what has happened in the lives of many Catholics.

But what happens if, instead of seeking mere “community”, a term which has been seriously compromised, in our parishes and in our world, we instead emphasize and seek this “Communion of Saints”? If we truly believe in the Communion of Saints, as we say we do whenever we recite the Apostle’s Creed, then attending Mass, even with a Church full of our best friends, cannot be remotely equated with a good dinner party. We will be aware that, in a very real sense, we are there not only with the people we see around us, but we are also there with and for the souls in purgatory, and they for us, and with and for the souls in heaven, and they for us. I believe that then, in an entirely new way, we will begin to appreciate the people we can see and hear and touch around us, and realize that we are also there with and for them, and they for us, and not just to give each other a good feeling of togetherness, but to help each other on the glorious, difficult, temptation-strewn journey to God, a journey for which we all, each one of us, need all the help we can possibly get.

False communitarianism, at its worst, is simply a collective form of deadly pride. Instead of believing “I am the most important thing” we instead adopt the position that “this group of people I belong to is the most important thing.” Notice that the first statement manages to insert itself into, and hide, as it were, in the second, like a virus hiding in a cell. At its best, it is settling for far too little, setting our sights way too low. It is beneath the dignity and calling of a Catholic parish to settle for mere human community, especially when we consider that everything good and true and worthwhile in human community is subsumed as part of, but not the whole of, the larger reality. Our infinitely precious Deposit of Faith proclaims to us the Communion of Saints in all its profundity and vastness, and it is this that we should strive to understand, to bring alive, and yes, to enjoy, in our parishes and in our lives.

Why You Should Read (At Least Part Of) The Catechism of the Catholic Church, And Shouldn’t Listen to Anyone Who Tells You Not To

On October 11, 1992, in the Apostolic Constitution Fidei Depositum, Pope John Paul II declared the publication of the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC), the first complete compilation of the teachings of the Catholic Church in over four hundred years. This document articulates and proclaims, to a theologically bewildered post-Vatican II world, what the Church teaches, and by implication, what it does not teach.

Yet many Catholics seem to either barely know of its existence, or have relegated it to a forgotten corner of their faith lives, like one of those rooms in libraries that hold special works of great local historical significance, but are always empty.

Furthermore, incredibly, some people have been actively discouraged from reading the CCC, both passively and actively, usually by other Catholics, and sometimes by theologians, professionals within the Church, or even priests. Msgr. Michael Wrenn discusses resistance to its publication and dissemination in his book Flawed Expectations (Ignatius Press), and we have heard some personal stories along the same lines on the discussion forum of cccisg.org (an online Catechism study group).

So before going into the reasons why it should be read, I want to deal briefly with the main arguments made “against” it. They are as follows:

Objection: It’s a “reference work” only, to look things up in, not really to read.
The Truth: It is much more than that. It can be used as a reference, but is also an organic, stylistic unity which is perhaps best read
a logical section at a time.

Objection: It’s for experts only – the rest of us should wait for the “Cliff Notes” version.
The Truth: It’s not, and we shouldn’t. Catholicism is not an esoteric religion, intended for the understanding of the few and the obedience of the many. Most of us who read the CCC find most of it understandable to a great degree, even if that often takes some work. While the content deals with things that are of their nature mysteries, these are mysteries to the experts too. I have never had someone tell me that they gave up reading the Catechism because it was too hard to understand.

Objection: Reading the CCC is dry, slow going, and it will bore most people.
The Truth: It’s not, and won’t bore us any more than prayer does, or the Mass. Sometimes, we carry the boredom with us into whatever we do. But the CCC is written in a lively, engaging and highly readable style.

Objection: The word “Catechism” brings to mind the question-and-answer catechism you had to learn as a child (the Baltimore Catechism).
The Truth: It’s not written in that style at all (see above). On the other hand, several times on cccisg.org, members have posted material from the Baltimore Catechism, and it has always turned out to be very helpful.

Objection: It doesn’t take into account the latest developments in theology.
The Truth: This objection starts with some theological “developers” themselves, busily trying to turn wine back into water, and upset that their professional outputs aren’t always considered to be on a par with the Revealed Word of God, the Apostolic Tradition, and the 2000-year-old Magisterium of the Church, guided by the Holy Spirit. The reason many of these ideas are not included in the Catechism is quite simple: the Church does not teach them. The policy is pretty clear: The CCC incorporates all developments in theology, new or old, that the Church holds to be true, and omits those that it does not.

So what are the positive reasons why you should read it? Let me make it clear I’m not advocating that everyone read the whole CCC from cover to cover (although perhaps that would be the ideal). But as this document is the definitive, post-conciliar articulation of the teaching of the Catholic Church, it would be well for as many people as possible to own a copy, to review the table of contents to see in general what it covers, and to read at least some of the sections.

The great open secret is that the Catechism is a wonderful document, in many ways and on many levels. It is both intellectual and inspirational. It is at once theological, spiritual, philosophical, and pragmatic. It might even be considered something of a masterpiece of thought and style. Here are some specific reasons why you should consider reading at least parts of it:

Because it is beautifully written, clear, concise, often lyrical, organic. Many concepts and doctrines are discussed in multiple sections, from multiple points of view, constantly building up one’s understanding of the faith.

To get a better knowledge of what the Church teaches and what it doesn’t teach. This is especially important in this time of confusion, in which under-catechization, and even de-catechization, are common among Catholics.

To strengthen the foundations of our faith. We live in a time which places great primacy on personal experience over doctrine. Yet life is long, and experiences are many. Some of them come to us against our will, and throw us up against the fundamental questions of existence. In those times, our personal experiences may not serve us as a light in the darkness. We need a sound grasp of the eternal truths of the faith to guide us in our journey towards eternity.

For inspiration and spiritual growth. Another of the numerous dark errors of our post-modernist age is the attempt to dissociate spirituality from doctrine. This leads eventually to pure subjectivism, which leads eventually to pure despair. The doctrine taught by the Catholic Church in the CCC, besides being Truth, represents the highest, deepest, and sanest “whole-brain” spirituality, in which we understand, at least to some extent, why we worship and seek grace and closeness to God, and in which this understanding itself gives us hope and renewed strength to seek the Kingdom of God in steadfast discipleship. Contrary to the anti-intellectualism inherent in much modern-day pseudo-spirituality, there is nothing more inspiring than an “idea” which resonates in the soul as true. The Catechism is a virtually inexhaustible reservoir of such ideas.

To be able to explain the faith better to others, including other Catholics, other Christians, and everyone else. Like it or not, and notwithstanding embarrassing fantasies of standing on street corners handing out tracts, evangelization in one form or another is an inescapable obligation of all of the faithful. Reading the Catechism can give us the guidance and inspiration to make our lives into better and better “shinings-forth” of Christ’s truth, and the knowledge and confidence to discuss this Truth with others.

To be reminded of the many treasures of the Catholic faith, its countless gems of wisdom, its persistent and courageous exhortation to virtue, its sacred, unbroken tradition solidly connecting the last Mass you attended back through the centuries to the Last Supper itself.

To have our rationalizations for not living a life more in keeping with the Gospel undermined, refuted, and dissolved (although depending on one’s point of view, this could constitute a reason to avoid the Catechism, too). Through a thorough proclamation of what the Church believes (the Creed), how it worships (the Sacraments), its teaching on living a Christian life (morality, both positive and negative), and how it prays, the CCC acts as a corrosive to the many barriers we erect to defend ourselves against the Living Flame which seeks to ignite a fire of Charity within our hearts.

To grow in the love which God has for us and which we are to have for others. Since this is the “summation of the law”, it is the end point of all true doctrine, and the direction in which true doctrine inevitably leads us.

This list is not exhaustive, and is not meant to be, indeed cannot be, any more than a list of reasons “why should read the Gospels” could be complete. Each reading of even a small section of the Catechism yields additional stirrings of the understanding, a feeding of the appetite for Truth and deeper faith.

What is the best way to read the Catechism? There is probably no one answer to this question for everybody. For some people, it may be best just to start with page one and read it through, slowly, with time for reflection and “digestion.” Short of that, I recommend thoroughly reviewing the extensive table of contents, and marking sections, short or long, that hold particular interest for you, and then reading those whole sections. (A personal opinion: I much prefer the table of contents to the index, but the index is helpful is you have a very specific subject you want to look up.) Then, if you have time, you could also read the paragraphs that are referenced in the margins of the section you read – the CCC has extensive internal cross-references. If you want to go deeper still, you could get the Companion to the Catechism of the Catholic Church published by Ignatius Press, which lists the full texts of all of the footnote references.

And, of course, you might find the structured reading and discussion program of cccisg.org to be a good way of not only reading the text, but hearing what other people are finding in it. But if you only have time to just pick it up once in a while, open it at random, and read a page, I highly recommend that too.

As Pope John Paul II says in Fidei Depositum, the Catechism is “ a ‘symphony’ of the faith”, created to “serve the renewal to which the Holy Spirit ceaselessly calls the Church…”, a “sure norm for teaching the faith…” A fresh articulation of the Deposit of Faith by the Church itself has happened very rarely in its long history. It is no doubt providential that it has happened now, at the turn of a new millenium, in a time of great trial for the Body of Christ. As this post-conciliar Catechism takes root, over time, in the hearts and minds of the faithful, it will shine forth to the world as the most concise and complete explanation of why Catholics commit themselves to Faith, live in Hope, and persevere in Charity. If we let it into our own hearts and minds, it can serve as a reliable rudder, for us as individuals and for the Church as a whole, to help steer through the turbulent waters of this world. And bring us, and those whose lives we impact, closer to God.

Father James Schall, SJ., teacher and author, has been a friend of cccisg.org from the beginning, and graciously allowed us to reprint his essay "The General Catechism: The Church Describes What It Holds About God, Man, and the World" as our August Guest Column. It gives a very astute analysis, among other points, of why the Catechism is so necessary in the first place. You can find Fr. Schall’s essay here.

This is the “lead post” for the Catechism of the Catholic Church Internet Study Group for the week starting 12/9. The numbers refer to paragraphs in the Catechism. For the week of 12/9, the members of cccisg.org will be reading and discussing CCC paragraphs 787 through 831.

Par. 787 – 831. “From the beginning, Jesus associated his disciples with his own life, revealed the mystery of the Kingdom to them, and gave them a share in his mission, joy, and sufferings.”

What a powerful sentence begins this week’s readings! “…mission, joy, and sufferings.” For anyone sincerely trying to live as one of those disciples with whom “Jesus…associated…his own life,” does a day go by that does not include all three? It came to me a while ago that trying to live this mission gives a simple, clear, and powerful answer to the constant human question “what should I do today?” or “what should I do next”? The answer is, to be a disciple. Then, of course, the question becomes how to be a disciple today, or in this next hour or activity. This question itself can at times seem a bit daunting, or even complicated, but we get lots of help with the answer from the Holy Spirit. And of course just asking the right question is a great help in protecting us from gravitating toward the wrong answer.

Whether or not we make this kind of commitment, we still suffer. The difference is that as committed disciples, we have a context for understanding our suffering as meaningful, and for including it as a necessary aspect of our search for God and salvation. I used to hope that a “spiritual-enough” approach to personal suffering would make it go away, make it stop hurting. Because it doesn’t, we are forced to continue digging for its meaning, not stopping until we understand that we are truly called to share in Christ’s life, and in his death on the cross. And, glory to God in the highest, in his New Life with the Father in Heaven. So even though our suffering is often not changed into non-suffering, it can be redeemed, which it turns out, is much, much better.

Whether or not we make this kind of commitment, we still, most of us, at some point or other, have some joy. The difference is that without commitment to Christian discipleship, our joy goes no deeper than what the world has to offer, which may be intense for a time, but has no enduring basis. This kind of joy is always at risk for quick evaporation, and this is its inevitable fate. But the joy that comes to us from the Holy Spirit, the Consoler, is part of something that doesn’t evaporate, ever, even if our experience of it, while here on earth, is sporadic and limited.

Our readings this week first describe the Church as the Body of Christ, and as the Temple of the Holy Spirit. They then begin to teach us the full meaning of the Church as One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic, and will continue discussing this credal statement next week.

If you’re looking for likely topics to bring up on the forum, the following list might serve as a starting point, or a stimulus to further thought:

- In 790, titled “One Body”, the following quote from Lumen Gentium: “In that body the life of Christ is communicated to those who believe, and who, through the sacraments, are united in a hidden and real way to Christ in his Passion and glorification.” How do belief, and participation in the sacraments, unite us in a “hidden and real way” to Christ?

- In 798, on the various ways in which the Holy Spirit works: “…by the sacraments, which give growth and healing to Christ’s members…by the virtues, which make us act according to what is good…by the many special graces (called ‘charisms’), by which He makes the faithful “fit and ready to undertake various tasks and offices for the renewal and building up of the Church.”

- in 801, the statement that “…discernment of charisms is always necessary.” Why is this discernment so important?

- On the subject of “unity”, in 815 we have: “What are these bonds of unity? Above all, charity ‘binds everything together in perfect harmony’ ”. How does this apply during those times, often occurring over the long history of the Church, of seeming disunity and conflict?

- There are several paragraphs which deal ecumenical themes, with many quotes from Unitatis Redintegratio, the Vatican II “Decree on Ecumenism.” E.g. “Christ’s Spirit uses these Churches (non-Catholic Churches) and ecclesial communities as means of salvation, whose power derives from the fullness of grace and truth that Christ has entrusted to the Catholic Church.” How do we understand this statement?

And many more striking, thought-provoking, faith-stirring truths are proclaimed this week as well.

God our Father, may our sufferings today be mitigated and consoled. May our hearts, and minds, and footsteps, be turned ever more toward You. And may our souls come to be with You in Heaven. Amen.

Jerome

From the South Bend (Indiana) Tribune, earlier this year. I wrote this guest column in response to a previous guest column in the Tribune which asked the question which forms the title.

Would The World Be a Better Place Without Christianity?

(Earlier this year) the Tribune carried an article in this space by ________, arguing, among other things, against the establishment of a state religion in the U.S. I agree with this position wholeheartedly, although I rarely encounter anyone or read anything that disagrees with it.

But before getting to the rest of her argument, Ms. ________ blithely dismisses the entirety of the teachings, ethics, and historical impact of Christianity (in two paragraphs) by alluding to the “crimes against humanity” committed by some of Jesus’ followers, and suggesting that the human race would have been better off if Jesus had never lived. This sentiment is certainly not unique to one writer, indeed it is echoed by many voices and strains in our current culture that promote an unreflective hostility to religion (although in practice, because of the stern requirements of multicultural dogma, this means hostility to Christianity, and not to other, “diverse” religions).

It is completely clear that abuses have been committed, that some of them were terrible, and that there is no guarantee that some forms of wrongdoing won’t occur now and in the future. This aspect of history, past and present, cannot and should not be denied or minimized. But we might ask ourselves, how do we recognize the “wrongness” of these events in the first place? The cultures of Western classical antiquity certainly didn’t see anything wrong with suppressing non-official religious beliefs in the sternest possible manner (e.g. Socrates, the early Christian martyrs, the Crucifixion itself), or going to war for less-than-pure motives. So how did we come to understand that the excesses of the Inquisition and the Crusades, for example, were wrong?

A large part of the answer is, that we have the considerable advantage of being able to evaluate them in the light of a two-thousand year old ethical and moral tradition mainly shaped by the teachings and principles of the Old and New Testaments, which have proved impossible to “get around” in the long run. All rationalizations of these abuses, however clever or erudite, whether promoted by individuals or the Church itself, have eventually foundered on the rocks of the Commandments, the Beatitudes, and the uncompromising exhortation to “love your neighbor as yourself” which, unlike material rocks on actual shores, show no signs of erosion no matter how much sophisticated rhetorical water expends itself against them. In other words, a major reason we can tell, eventually, that Christians and their institutions have sinned, is that Christianity has done an unequalled job of educating us in how to know sin when we see it (and hopefully, when we commit it). This explains why, although the Roman Empire did not issue apologies for its actions, and did not reform itself from purely moral motives, the Roman Church, as well as other Christian denominations, have done and continue to do both of these regularly.

Another frequent argument is that the fact that bad things happen under the auspices of supposedly good teachings and institutions somehow disproves the truth of those teachings. This first of all falls prey to the fallacy of abusus tollit usum, that is, the abuse of something negates its proper use, which could also be used to deny the value of hunger relief because some of the money given for this purpose is from time to time stolen by miscreants. But in addition, anyone who seriously investigates the teachings of Christianity would be far more surprised to find no past and present crimes of note. This is because these teachings tell us clearly that this is, after all, a “fallen” world, subject at all times to temptation and corruption, and no organizations or individuals are exempt from this state. Therefore, with a large enough “sample”, our research will turn up sins enough for a long stream of indictments. As it does. This does not contradict Christian teachings, but supports them.

The problem remains then, whether these crimes and abuses outweigh the good that has been done by Jesus having lived. This time, the answer requires more work. The headlines of history do not tend to proclaim “Man Does Decent Thing”, or “Woman Dies In Peace After Asking Forgiveness From Her Children”. But for one willing to do the work, history will reveal a moving and inspiring story. Just to skim the surface, Canon Law elevated the rights of widows and children, and bequeathed much to our systems of legal protection that keep us relatively safe in our beds at night. The Church insisted, and continues to insist, that no forms of human suffering may be legitimately ignored. Medieval religious orders provided some of the earliest, and for centuries virtually the only, organized ministering to the needs of the sick and destitute. Christian figures have held kings accountable for cruelty and immorality, often to good effect, and often paying with their lives. The Church sponsored the invention of the university, and has been one of the major forces in all of Western history in education, not just on doctrine, but science, philosophy, music, etc., often educating people who had no ability to pay, thereby opening countless minds to a larger intellectual and aesthetic life. People inspired by Christian teachings agitated for the end of slavery, not only in the West but throughout the world. Most of all, the Church has taught that there is a fundamental, unassailable, and immeasurable value and meaning to every human life.

So I believe that the question of whether the world would have been better off if Jesus had never lived has an answer, that the answer is based not on ideology but on fact, and that the answer is no. One may choose to count all the potholes and decry them with vigor, all the while missing the fact that most people are still able to use that road to get where they’re going.

In the end, the number of people condemned by the Inquisition, killed in the Crusades, or abused by clergymen, can be counted or estimated, given enough data. It is far too many, and we must do better. But the number of times suffering has been spared because a man decided, based on a conscience formed by Faith, not to do a bad thing, or relieved because a woman undertook to do a compassionate act out of obedience to “love thy neighbor…”, cannot be counted. It is simply too large, an incalculable quantity, a number that has no name. Except, perhaps, Redemption.