Do Catholics complicate mission?

Do Catholics complicate mission? Photo: Martina Purdy.

In the way to lead scores of teenagers in an end-of-term retreat last week, my fellow faith leader and I stopped for a break. On mission in Co. Antrim – a long way from Antioch – the words of Venerable Fulton Sheen were ringing in our ears: “There’s God – and coffee!”

As we turned into a convenience stop off the motorway, a modern car pulled up – bearing an ancient message. “Taste and see that the Lord is good. Psalm 34:8.” There was also a bright logo on the side of the white Hyundai: “Hope for Youth Ministries.”

It was impressive. I checked out their website: school visits, summer camps, and bible classes, where children learn a new scripture every day. Events take place in mission halls, tents, barns, churches, caravan parks.

Vision

This Christian ministry had a clear vision, and did not seem to regard contemporary culture – materialistic, and dominated by social media – as a barrier to evangelisation. Yes, this lay ministry acknowledged the intense pressure our young people are under to look, act and behave in certain ways. “Often,” said their website, “this leads to feelings of failure, inadequacy and depression as they search for fulfilment in things of the world,” said the website.

But this mission had a positive vibe and regarded the problems as surmountable with Christ. “The Lord Jesus Christ,” they declared, “is the only one who can give true peace, which surpasses all understanding.”

Indeed, their message was backed up with Jesus’ own words in John 14:27. “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.’”

Their enthusiasm – and hope (an unshakeable confidence in God’s love and amazing plan) sharply contrasts with the mood in Catholicism at times:  our Catholic news is riddled with concerns about decline, hard truths about church closures and dwindling vocations.

We Catholics can learn a lot from our separated brethren when they proclaim the word with conviction”

I thought of the imbalance in our church due to the schisms that have occurred. Christ had instituted a kind of three-legged stool between St Peter, St Paul and St John, but division has weakened it. The Roman Catholic Church is strong on the authority of Peter who was empowered to lead and order.

We Roman Catholics, the Petrine, are very good at ordering the gifts, and all the sacraments. But in the schism of 1054 AD we lost the Eastern Orthodox Church. It is profoundly Johannine in its spirituality and its contemplation; its Sunday services can last a few hours. Then came the Reformation and the Protestant churches, which leaned heavily on St Paul’s epistles. Yes, the Reformation misinterpreted scripture but this ‘Pauline’ wing is gifted in evangelisation.

We Catholics can learn a lot from our separated brethren when they proclaim the word with conviction. Stark warnings in the Catholic press about parish closures contrast sharply with the joy Hope Ministries exudes in purchasing a second-hand camper van, to be used for Mission.

Maybe we over-complicate things. “Youse two sound like a couple of evangelicals,” my sister in Christ and I have been told. “Isn’t that what all Catholics should sound like?” is my response.

Signs of new life are everywhere – if we have eyes to see it and have a heart for change. That means seriously directing our assets towards youth mission. Christ gave us a wonderful example where to start: “Repent and believe the Good News.” The message – that Jesus loves you and has an amazing plan for your life – works because it is confirmed in the Holy Spirit. The human condition has not changed: our two biggest problems remain the dysfunction of sin and death. And we have Christ – the antidote to both.

 

Authenticity

 

We have everything we need. Maybe all we lack is balance, imagination and the courage of our convictions. People are longing for the truth – and an authentic message delivered with conviction and joy.

Sometimes I think we are stuck in a bad negotiation: everyone knows what needs to be done, but nobody wants to do it. Maybe our problem is that we are not convicted of the truth of Christ’s message? Instead we blame our structures? Our core Catholicism? Our message? Is our biggest problem that we do not really believe what we are supposed to believe – fearing it’s too hard for modern attitudes?

“Do you get many school retreats?” I asked the director of a Retreat facility in Ireland recently. “Not anymore, no.”

My companion and I, having arrived a bit apprehensive, went home rejoicing too, with hope”

Empowered by our Parish Priest and school leaders, we had around 140 young people (not to mention their teachers and supporting staff who attended as well) on retreat over three days. They went home rejoicing, with a little bit of scripture each, and, we hope, a bit more knowledge about the ‘superpowers’ of their baptism, through the Holy Spirit, and God’s amazing love for them. “Thank you,” said one young girl with a broad smile – as she went skipping out the door. My companion and I, having arrived a bit apprehensive, went home rejoicing too, with hope, in the Lord’s unmarked silver Skoda.

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Recently I asked one of the volunteers in our parish shop a question: what’s the best-selling item? “Rosary beads definitely sell the best,” she said. In fact, she reported a sudden surge in rosary beads for men. “I have found lately a lot of young men seem to be buying them,” she said, “because I’ve had to put in an order quite a few times for the St Benedict’s wooden rosary bead, which is a larger bead, not normally what a woman would use.” Signs of hope are everywhere.

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As we prepare to celebrate the Solemnity of St Peter and Paul, I read about the martyrdom of Peter’s wife. According to tradition, originating from the early writings of Clement of Alexandria, she was martyred shortly before her husband. As Peter watched his wife going to her execution, he reportedly shouted words of comfort: “Remember the Lord.” Amen!

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Not long ago, I met an old-time republican at a Catholic funeral. He did not share my enthusiasm for the faith. “I’m an atheist,” he protested! “But,” says I, “Some day you are going to lose faith in your atheism.” He opened his mouth as if to speak and then came the hint of a smile. “We don’t believe in atheists,” my friend chimed in with a grin, a grin he warmly returned.

He gave us a clue as to why he appeared to have lost faith. Many years ago, as a young man in a city where violence had erupted in his Falls Road community in the 1970s, he was a member of the Legion of Mary and the IRA. An elderly priest confronted him. “Your membership of the IRA is incompatible with the Legion of Mary. You have to choose,” the priest declared. This man who has a heart for the poor was clearly wounded by the priest’s words. “I will tell you this,” he said. “The IRA never asked me to give up the Legion of Mary.”

Of course, the IRA did require him to compromise Catholic teaching. The old IRA, those who helped found the Republic of Ireland, held their faith (those who had it) in tension with their politics. I know this old priest was well-intentioned, but I wonder if he had said nothing, would this man, years after the conflict ended, still be at Mass?