Saturday, September 19, 2015

A matter of faith and action



John said to Jesus, ‘Master, we saw a man who is not one of us casting out devils in your name; and because he was not one of us we tried to stop him.’ But Jesus said, ‘You must not stop him: no one who works a miracle in my name is likely to speak evil of me. Anyone who is not against us is for us.

Mark 9:38 - 40

Letting go is never easy. The difficult farewell as you leave your child for the first time in the hands of carers or teachers is, for some, wrought with stress and emotion. My children never looked back. They loved their carers, they loved their teachers. I especially wanted their teachers to know about their unique gifts, about the things that were important in their lives. I wanted to know if they cared about my kids, if they would listen to their idle chat and make sense of their worlds for them as we had.

Well, their teachers did care and love them in their own way. My sons were ‘characters’ (which is the best way to put it) and my daughter somewhat reticent. Yet they all left school well prepared to take on the next stage of their lives. As parents, we never quite totally let go. I still tell my grownup kids how much they are loved. We need to. That’s our job.

For the last four weeks, the letter of St James has featured in the lectionary. Since the Reformation this letter has been attributed the title of ‘Catholic’ since James, a Jewish Christian in the mid-first Century AD taught that faith alone is insufficient for salvation. Good works flow from faith, and they are the evidence. This certainly contradicted the conclusion to which Martin Luther arrived. Our Catholic tradition has maintained this understanding, and from it flows a great sense of, and commitment to social justice.

And so Mark (9:40) reminds us that we are not alone, that anyone who is not against us is for us. It’s hard to swallow, I know, because we can get hung up on what we consider to be immovable principles; it’s hard knowing that if I do let go of my anxieties, my kids will still do well at school, they will (and need to) develop resilience and fortitude. The world is not black and white, not St Kilda vs Geelong; there is plenty of grey in between, the realm of collaboration and compromise, and of course, compassion.

Mark does give fair warning, however, if we become obstacles to the truth, to the Gospel, promising apocalyptic terror to those who would destroy another’s faith. Such is the seriousness of the responsibility to nurture and grow faith. This is the same faith that calls us to act with justice, in accordance with the Lord’s decrees.

Global warming, third world poverty, child labour, or just trusting my child’s carers and teachers to engage with them and to open their eyes to the wonder that is life will always be a challenge, but it is a challenge that we should all take, that we should all should act upon. Now. It’s a matter of faith and action.


Peter Douglas
HEAD OF SCHOOL SERVICES, NORTH




Social Justice Sunday

Next Sunday, 27 September is Social Justice Sunday. The Bishop's statement, "For those who come across the seas" will be launched in Tasmania by Archbishop Porteous at the 10.30 Mass at the Cathedral. The statement can be found at: http://www.socialjustice.catholic.org.au/files/SJSandresources/2015-SJS-Statement.pdf

End of term


Last week's APPA Conference was an excellent opportunity to meet up with colleagues old and new and to hear some exceptional speakers, not least of whom was our own Father Michael Tate. Lovely to see Michelle, Christina, Anita  and Carmen (SFB) representing the northern region. The next APPA Conference will combine with NZPF in Auckland. 

Thanks to Stewart Farr who held the fort at Our Lady of Lourdes, and further congratulations to Mary Wall and Richard Chapman on their appointments. Thanks also to Brent who covered for me while I was at the conference.

This coming week all TCEO staff will be in Hobart on Tuesday and Wednesday for staff meeting and TCEO Spirituality Day with Fr Richard Leonard SJ respectively.

Wishing you all the best as T3 comes to a close.
Why are young people leaving the Church in such numbers?
Thomas Baker
'In this discouraging book, the future looks bad for just about every flavor of Catholic'
 Thomas Baker/October 10, 2014
 Young Catholic America: Emerging Adults In, Out of, and Gone from the Church http://www.globalpulsemagazine.com/news/why-are-young-people-leaving-the-church-in-such-numbers/163 (You need a paid subscription).

Here's the bad news for Global Pulse readers, and we may as well get right to it: Just over half the young people raised by parents who describe themselves as “liberal” Catholics stop going to Mass entirely once they become “emerging adults”—a new demographic category that means either prolonged adolescence or delayed adulthood, defined here in Young Catholic America as ages eighteen to twenty three.
But now, let’s put that sad trend in perspective: The picture isn’t all that much better for the children of “traditional” Catholics. Although only a quarter of those young adults say they’ve stopped going to Mass entirely, only 17 percent say they’re going every week, and in general, their allegiance to church membership and participation seems nearly as faded as the kids of so- called feckless liberals.

The fact is: In this discouraging book, the future looks bad for just about every flavor of Catholic. For those who remember Commonweal’s series on “Raising Catholic Kids” last November, the worry expressed by those dedicated, well-meaning parents seems here to be fully justified. You may hear about pockets of enthusiastically “orthodox” young adults out there somewhere, but as my old mentor in the market-research business used to say, the plural of the word “anecdote” is not “data.” Smith (a sociologist at the University of Notre Dame) and his co-authors have the data, and it tells us that the majority of Catholic “emergers” are, by our historical standards, not what we are used to thinking of as practicing Catholics at all.

Young Catholic America analyzes three waves of results from the National Study on Youth and Religion, collected from 2002 through 2008. Since many of the same young people were surveyed across this time period, the authors can compare earlier thirteen-to-seventeen-year-old respondents with those same young people five years later. Now that they’re eighteen to twenty three, their current status as Catholics might discourage even the most ardent evangelist.
Only 7 percent of these young adults who might have turned out Catholic can be called “practicing” Catholics—if “practicing” is tightly defined as attending Mass weekly, saying that faith is extremely or very important, and praying at least a few times a week. About 27 percent are at the other end of the spectrum, classified as “disengaged,” meaning that they never attend Mass and feel religion is unimportant. In between these two poles is a complex landscape of the marginally attached—perhaps willing to identify themselves as Catholic, attending Mass sporadically at best, and in general living life with their Catholic identity as a more dormant, if not entirely irrelevant, force.

 Perhaps the most depressing chapter is one where we hear not numbers like these, but the actual words of some of these younger should-be Catholics, a small sample of whom the authors interviewed in 2008. Most were “out,” considering themselves estranged from the church or no longer Catholic, and only twelve met an expansive definition of “active.” For everyone, active and not, “church” seems associated primarily with morals and obligatory Mass attendance rather than anything that sounds like Jesus and the Gospel.
More disturbingly, their vague priorities of “being a better person” don’t seem likely to generate much of a desire for deeper answers to life’s questions, at least in the short run. “It’s just easier not to follow a religion, is what it comes down to,” says a typical young adult—and even though I feel that way some of the time myself, it’s hard not to agree with the authors’ sense that this is a generation largely lost to what we oldsters think of as Catholic identity.
So, what brought us to this point?
Young Catholic America reminds us that bad as these statistics may look, in fact they are not new: Mass attendance and other measures of involvement and allegiance among young adults have been at low levels since the 1960s. To the authors, the genesis of the decline is clear: “After [Vatican II] ended, the church in the United States did a less than ideal job of instructing the faithful in the pews about its teachings and their implications.... It does not appear that such unified, lucid, authoritative instruction and direction was provided.”
This, of course, is a familiar trope from conservative analysts of the church’s plight, naïvely assuming that our crisis of membership and allegiance is primarily a failure of ardor in education and explanation.
It seems to be an appealing idea to some that our bishops could have prevented the collapse of Catholic culture in the 1960s if only they had preached doctrine and Catholic obligations more heroically. However, from my years in business, I can tell you there are few sadder phenomena than a company that thinks its failed product would surely have been successful if only customers could have had its greatness fully explained to them.
The theory that vigorous teaching could have saved Catholic culture understates the magnitude of what has happened to church authority and credibility. It also casts a rosy nostalgic glow around the preconciliar church, remembering it as an era of higher Mass attendance (definitely true) and religious literacy (more doubtful, in my mind, although it certainly was a golden age for Catholic facts and lists).
But never mind the post hoc theorizing—what do these young people themselves report about the reasons for their weakened ties to Catholicism? There is little evidence from the authors’ interviews that the issues so neuralgic for many Global Pulse readers—the male hierarchy, bad preaching, sexual abuse, the church’s position on gay Catholics and marriage, the alliance of so many bishops with Republican political agendas—are at the top of their list of problems. (Other studies, such as those cited by Robert Putnam and David Campbell in American Grace, do suggest a recent trend of young people abandoning religion because of its closer alignment with conservative politics.) Instead, the most obvious factor identified in both the interviews and the survey data in Young Catholic America seems to be disaffection from Catholic sexual teaching, dramatically so with respect to both premarital sex and birth control.
It should be no surprise to observant parents that 61 percent of even the “practicing” category of unmarried emerging adult Catholics report that they have had premarital sex, with 60 percent of those having had sex within the past month—only slightly lower than the percentages reported by much more marginal Catholics. In interviews, even churchgoing young Catholics acknowledge they have major differences with the church’s “unrealistic” teaching in this area. (Surely it’s also one of the reasons younger Catholics are less likely than ever to present themselves at a parish for Catholic marriage.) It’s an impasse of a magnitude that all the New Evangelization and Theology of the Body workshops in the world seem unlikely to resolve anytime soon.
DOES ANYTHING "WORK" in the face of all this data suggesting that nothing does? The authors point out that marriages where both partners are Catholic are more likely to produce children who stay at least marginally Catholic; that fathers’ active involvement in religion is particularly helpful; and that Catholic schools do make it slightly less likely that a graduate will completely abandon practice in later life. Yet even these factors seem to operate on the margins in terms of statistically proven effectiveness. As a parent, you’ll finish this book feeling as if, even if you do everything right, the odds are way less than 50-50 that you’ll see your children turn out as Catholic as you are.
This is a difficult book — not simply because of the sense of helplessness it may generate, but because it is densely packed with analysis that may discourage readers unfamiliar with complex research and social science data. It requires keeping track of multiple classification schemes the authors have developed to define Catholic involvement and adherence, and also deciphering pages of bar graphs where the different shades of muddy gray are almost impossible to distinguish.
Yet despite the obstacles, all those concerned with youth evangelization, campus ministry, or the overall demographic future of the church will need to engage this book and its data, even if they don’t agree with the authors’ diagnosis of the underlying causes.
Where do we go from here? That re-do, or un-do, of the 1960s that many seem to be hoping for seems unlikely, and a strategy predicated on reviving the Catholic culture of another era will, at best, attract a passionate minority. Whatever happens, we’ll need to change the way we talk about the boundaries of our Catholic enclave, because the majority of our young adults have placed themselves outside it, and don’t show many signs of coming back voluntarily.
Perhaps the only hope is Pope Francis’s recent emphasis on making the “kerygma” of the faith a far higher priority than doctrinal and moral pronouncements. Even half of some of the most disaffected Catholic young people in this book’s survey data claim they believe that Jesus was the Son of God, raised from the dead. It’s a start, at least. And when you’re done reading Young Catholic America, you may find yourself thinking it’s the only message they might be able to hear.




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Sunday, September 13, 2015

Like a child



He then took a little child, set him in front of them, put his arms round him, and said to them, ‘Anyone who welcomes one of these little children in my name, welcomes me; and anyone who welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.’

Mark 9: 36 – 37

One of the mythic qualities of our Abrahamic faith is its generational transmission of stories that reach deep into time, of the unfolding of God’s self-revelation to his creatures. The Hebrew and Christian scriptures make much of the way that this is transmitted. The naming of the unnamed God as the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the genealogies that reach from Adam to David and thence to Jesus (Luke 3:23ff, and Matthew 1:1ff) radically highlights the way in which the way this salvific story was intended to be spread. From generation to generation, in fulfilment of God’s promise to Abraham (Genesis 15).

Our obligation to our children and to our children’s children is that we pass on this story with fidelity and love. And while we may no longer sit around a desert campfire intently hearing, remembering and reliving this story, we prepare our children to be open to the possibilities of knowing this wonderful God.
                                   
A common purpose we share in our Catholic schools is the education and care of the young people entrusted to us, and who with their families, join us as one community. Indeed we share a common mind about what we desire for our children – an education that reaches and nurtures the spiritual, physical, emotional and academic aspects of our children’s lives. The Church asserts and supports the rights and obligations of parents as first educators of their children.

Our dreams for our children, our deepest desires for them, are not always met in ways that we expect, they may be exceeded or be disappointingly unsuccessful. When the journey we commence becomes unstuck or fraught with difficulties, these must be overcome.

While the Catholic school places Christ at the centre, and it is he who brings its members together, who gives it strength, who is its foundation, it is still a human institution with all the frailties, faults and limitations of such institutions. None of us is perfect. What the Gospel invites us to do is to be rigorous about keeping our heads clear: know the common purpose and common mind, and most of all be gently persuaded by love.

Peter Douglas
HEAD OF SCHOOL SERVICES, NORTH



Reverse Mission by Richard Rohr



Jesus, perhaps disappointingly, gives no abstract theory of social justice. Instead, Jesus makes his life a concrete parable about how to live in this world. He demands of his first followers that they be living witnesses to a simple life on the edge of the dominant consciousness. Once you are at the visible center of any group, or once you are at the top of anything, you have too much to prove and too much to protect. Growth or real change is unlikely. You will be a defender of the status quo--which appears to be working for you. Every great spiritual teacher has warned against this complacency. The only free positions in this world are at the bottom and at the edges of things. Everywhere else, there is too much to maintain--an image to promote and a fear of losing it all--which ends up controlling your whole life.

An overly protected life--a life focused on thinking more than experiencing--does not know deeply or broadly. Jesus did not call us to the poor and to the pain only to be helpful; he called us to be in solidarity with the real and for own transformation. It is often only after the fact we realize that they helped us in ways we never knew we needed. This is sometimes called "reverse mission." The ones we think we are "saving" end up saving us, and in the process, redefine the very meaning of salvation!

Only near the poor, close to "the tears of things" as the Roman poet Virgil puts it, in solidarity with suffering, can we understand ourselves, love one another well, imitate Jesus, and live his full Gospel. The view from the top of anything is distorted by misperception, illusions, fear of falling, and a radical disconnection from the heart. You cannot risk staying there long. As Thomas Merton said, "People may spend their whole lives climbing the ladder of success only to find, once they reach the top, that the ladder is leaning against the wrong wall."

I believe that, in the end, there are really only two "cauldrons of transformation": great love and great suffering. And they are indeed cauldrons, big stew pots of warming, boiling, mixing, and flavouring! Our lives of contemplation are a gradual, chosen, and eventual free fall into both of these cauldrons. There is no softer or more honest way to say it. Love and suffering are indeed the ordinary paths of transformation, and contemplative prayer is the best way to sustain the fruits of great love and great suffering over the long haul and into deep time. Otherwise you invariably narrow down again into business as usual.



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