Religious-theological literacy
In 2005 the Catholic Theological Association of Great Britain held a conference “De doctrina christiana: Hearing and Speaking the Word.” Papers from this conference have been published in the March 2006 issue of “New Blackfriars.” The introduction to the symposium was written by Nicholas Lash, and from it I cite the opening and concluding paragraphs, to each of which I append a question that might merit discussion here.
“The rapidity with which Christian beliefs and practices have become illegible in British culture is astonishing. It seems clear that we have on our hands a crisis de doctrina christiana [concerning Christian teaching]. As the leaflet for our conference put it: ‘What is at issue is not simply a neglect of practice but a sense that our contemporary culture has become so disengaged from the language and symbols of Christianity that it is becoming impossible either to hear or to speak the Christian message in a way that makes sense’.”
JAK: Is this paragraph also true of U.S. culture?
“Reporting in The Tablet (28 September 1985) on the Association’s first annual conference, Eamon Duffy wrote: ‘Theology is the responsibility of the Church at large, not just of its pastors, or, for that matter, its professional theologians. When any Christian seeks to make Christian sense of the tears of things, of his or anyone’s living and dying, of the bewildering and sorrowing complexities of existence, theology is being done. Though it requires the discipline of the academy for its own health, it is too crucial to the Church to be confined there. It is the whole Church which must engage in theology’. How is it to do so? I conclude with four questions, concerning our contemporary crisis de doctrina christiana, which I offered for discussion during the conference. How well, and in what manner, are adult Catholics in this country taught to pray? How well, and in what manner, are adult Catholics in this country taught to read the Scriptures? Ours is a church of near one hundred per cent literacy, nearly half of whose members continue their education, beyond school age, into institutions of higher and further education. How well, and in what manner, are adult Catholics in this country equipped with a grasp of Church history and doctrine commensurate with their general knowledge and grasp of public affairs? To what extent, and in what manner, do we succeed in communicating the conviction that Catholic faith is, for every Catholic and in every context, ‘fides quaerens intellectum’?”
JAK: What would our answers, in the U.S., to Lash’s four questions be?
What a wonderfully rich set of questions for reflection. I’ll offer a response based on my experiences in parish life.
The first question deals with prayer. For most of my adult life (I’ll be 40 next month), the general approach has been “pray in your own words.” The idea–not entirely unreasonable–seems to be that prayer is something that arises spontaneously from our hearts, if we but let it. The general attitude toward what is often termed “rote prayer” has been negative and those interested in learning about traditional prayers other than the Our Father, Hail Mary and the Rosary generally have to learn on their own. Having said that, I am detecting a growing interest in the Liturgy of the Hours (with Kathleen Norris’s books playing an important role). My own parish has been teaching lectio divino and getting a very positive response.
Now having said all that, I think it should be noted that a great deal of energy has gone into catechizing people about the Eucharist, which one could argue is Catholic prayer par excellence. So I think that has to be factored in as well.
The second question deals with scripture. On the one hand, general scriptural literacy among Catholics is probably the best it has been in a long time. Catholics now hear a good chunk of the scriptures, particular the NT, at mass on Sunday. At the same time, it is reasonable to wonder how deep this new knowledge of scripture goes. Many small faith sharing groups tend to read scripture almost entirely in a “what does this mean to me?” way that sometimes seems indifferent to the past tradition of interpretation.
It is in the area of Church history and doctrine that I see the most serious gaps. I saw a survey recently that a significant percentage of young Catholics don’t know what “Vatican II” means, let alone “Nicaea” or “Chalcedon.” The content of Christian faith is all too often reduced to “Jesus just wanted everyone to love each other.” The Jesus of the Gospels gets played off against the Jesus of the epistles, to say nothing of later tradition. “Jesus, yes! Church..er, maybe” seems to be the operative ecclesiology in many religious ed programs.
As to the final question, I don’t think that most folks I know deeply grasp the idea of “fides quaerens intellectum.” There is almost a suspicion about the idea that faith can be an intellectual enterprise. The focus is on the personal-and, let us be blunt, emotional–response to the message of Jesus. This isn’t wrong, but it is incomplete and it sets aside two millenia of theological reflection. I think we can and must do better.
Having been raised in a family where the rosary was recited every night (!) put me off of that kind of praying for the rest of my life. Ditto for the liturgy (especially low mass) of the “bad old days” when I was an altar boy. It was “hit and run” as opposed to a communal worship. No thanks.
I discovered the shorter Liturgy of the Hours about 12 years ago and have tried to discipline myself to doing it at least nightly and, most days, in the morning as well. It was a refreshing discovery that I have tried to keep alive as opposed to any sense of obligation (a killer aspect of any prayer life).
My experience of the Church growing up is very much the same as Peter’s. That said, from talking to my parents and people of their generation, I’m not entirely sure that it was bettter back then. –just subject to a different set of deficiencies. Some people think the new type of “JP II Catholics,” are curing the problem. I have my doubts here too. My fear, in particular, is that they confuse apologetics with the intellectual life. Fides quaerens intellectum” is not the equivalent of functioning as a lawyer for the pope. “Fides quaerens intellectum,” at least in a mature individual, necessarily involves complexity, nuance, and even doubt from time to time. Once adult Catholics start grappling with the various ways in which scripture has been interpreted by the tradition, to integrate two of your points, that will become clear. A third point entrs too: Only a rich prayer life can enable people to deal with this. Only if you realize, through your prayer life, that God is not merely a construct of your own mind, but fully capable of absorbing your questions and doubts, and even shock (which anyone who reads enough Church history will experience), will you have the courage to pursue intellectual exploration in seeking to deepen your faith.
The bigger problem, it seems to me, is that we Americans have always sat uneasily with the intellectual life itself –seems to be too dangerous, too impractical, too self-involved. It’s not just Catholics–it’s Americans of all stripes. Obviously, this can’t be Lash’s problem., since he’s in the UK. But maybe things are more similar there than my Masterpiece Theatre – addled brain thinks.
As to Nicholas Lash’s point, I would say that Christian symbols and language are familiar to most Americans, but probably in many the familiarity is shallow and also not such as to arouse curiosity. But then, having taught American college students for some years, I would say that many of them were incurious about many things and had little sense of history. I have long thought it was impossible to overstock one’s mind. I am not sure that view is widely shared in these parts.
As to Eamon Duffy’s four questions I would say the following, but I am afraid I can speak only for myself.
(1) I have heard of prayer groups and there is a small one in our parish. Perhaps I should join one. Homilies I have heard contribute little. I found the writing on prayer of Herbert McCabe very encouraging and helpful. His work came to may attention when I read a review of one of his books in the TLS. I recommend him to anyone who likes theological writing that is challenging but laced with humor.
(2) Having long ignored the Scriptures, I decided a few years ago that I should go about reading them. I acquired a small library that includes the Jerome Bible Commentary and a number of volumes of the Anchor Bible, all I could find by Raymond E. Brown, and a few other things. I attended a series of meetings with a few others in my parish to read Acts. We plan to read Wisdom in the fall. I believe those who have persevered have got something out of the work. Oddly enough I found that I was the only male in the group, even though there are a number of men who attend mass daily. In a nearby parish I have heard of a group entitled Women’s Scripture Study. I found the title puzzling and what I have heard about the atmosphere would not have attracted me, even had I met the requirements. I suspect from odd things I have heard from the pulpit that some of the clergy think Raymond Brown was a dangerous modernist.
(3) My experience suggests that Americans generally are not well informed about history. I would be inclined to guess that American Catholics are no different and know little about the history of the Church. If homilies I have heard are any indication, ignorance of Church history is also common among the clergy. Sermons on readings from Acts are particularly revealing in this regard. I recall a homily in which the preacher seemed to think that Jesus had run a workshop for the Apostles between Easter Sunday and Ascension Thursday on how to set up the Church. Grasp of doctrine is better but it often lacks nuance.
(4) The idea that faith is, or ought to be, a faith that is in search of understanding attracts me very much, but then I am an academic. Even in English I am not sure it would be easy to sell to most American Catholics. That is not to say that one ought not to try. But are the clergy prepared? Having at first strongly objected to the new translation of the Ordo the bishops, having now accepted it, now seem prepared to sell it to the faithful. How will they do this? Will they concede that they were wrong before? Will they hope no one notices the change of mind? Will they call it an improvement even if they think otherwise? Will they say that mysterious entity “the Vatican” insists and must be humored (even if it is wrong headed)? Somehow I do not think they will be exemplifying “fides quaerens intellectum”.
In the above I have often cited the clergy. That is not because I wish to disparage them, but because one gathers what they think and know from what they say to the rest of us. What the faithful generally think and know is much more difficult to discern. Everyone recites the “Nicene” creed once a week. What they make of it is another matter.
The recent failure of the implementation of the Bishop’s Pastoral, Our Hearts Were Burning, might offer some clues to the problem. My experience was a two fold reason for this failure, or at least withdrawl from a process centered on prayer, Eucharist, deepening one’s faith and putting that understanding into action. The first reason was the lack of interest by the clergy in supporting the program; the second, the divisions in our faith that soon were apparent by those who were interested or at least curious.
That has not prevented many from reflecting, as Duffy notes, on trying to struggle with and apply that faith. But many are turned off (as Luke timothy Johnson has noted well) by not being heard and, if you are not heard, the easiest path is to pull down the curtain and drop off.
Out of Nicholas Lash’s four questions, could I focus on the third one:
“Ours is a church of near one hundred per cent literacy, nearly half of whose members continue their education, beyond school age, into institutions of higher and further education. How well, and in what manner, are adult Catholics in this country equipped with a grasp of Church history and doctrine commensurate with their general knowledge and grasp of public affairs?”
How well we are educating Catholics to a knowledge of history and doctrine commensurate with their general knowledge is, I think, the question. And I think the answer is: “Generally very poorly.”
First, the great majority of Catholics do not attend Catholic schools or colleges, and I’d be willing to bet the vast majority of them don’t have any formal education in the faith after they receive confirmation.
Second, for those who attend our high schools, how much emphasis is placed upon history and doctrine? To judge from the typical product of our high schools who arrives at the doors of Catholic University, not very much. We have introductory courses, one of which we used to call “Remedial Catholicism” (“Father, you kept mentioning something called ‘the Old Testament.’ What’s the Old Testament?” This from a junior in college!))
Third, very few of our colleges require more than two courses in religion, and these don’t even have to be in history or theology. I think most of our graduates leave our colleges limping, one leg well-developed, the other feeble and stunted.
On the professor level do theologians know their church history and do Church historians know their theology? Do both have a working knowledge of scripture?
By the way, on talking about active Catholics how many are Robert N’s and Cathy’s age. Do we speak of greying audiences because the younger ones are too busy to attend the lectures where older Catholics are prominent?
Who are the younger professors relating to?
Are the college Newbies ignorant because the preachers and educators are not doing their jobs? Is the right to life campaign excluding and overshadowing everything else?
At a VOTF conference at Fordham U I was amazed at how juvenile the students were about the faith. They seemed amused that some old fogies took these things seriously.
Maybe the students should have come from Beth Johnson’s classes instead.
I am involved in all four areas that are in the questions. But I would appreciate it the most if Peter could show me where those Christians are who love one another.
That kind of “reduction” would surely make history.
I seek community but recover myself in the security of my own relationship to God. I envy Paul the Apostle with all his Christian friends and wonder where the like are today?
Of course even Francis’ Order was dismantling his Order of Friars Minor while he was dying.
I have been involved with prayer groups but get appalled by the narcissism found there. Especially when those who are so ‘close’ to God don’t know who their neighbor is.
And how does “faith seeking understanding” square with those who have been given the kingdom which has been denied to the wise and learned of this world?
I really like this heading. But there just seems so much one can take off with in it and neglect others.
Maybe the “Contributors” can keep detailing this in future headings to stimulate feedback that we can profit from.
I think the problems are:
a. many theologians and other scholars spending their time deconstructing Church doctrines and tradition;
b. the tendancy of dissenting scholars to bring their case to the public media, into houses of formation, popular journals, and to undergraduates instead of keeping their arguments to an in-house debate among their peers;
c. dissent then filters down into rectories, convents, houses of lay apostolate and even into RC grammar schools, religious education, and RICA programs;
d. relativism.
To respond to Nicholas L.’s third question: Literacy does precious little good if our published religious educators are no longer teaching the fullness of Catholic truth (and morality) to our university students, religious, and future priests. Priests left uncertain are unlikely to teach anything serious from the pulpit, therefore, no one – not the religious, not the lay religious educators, not the parish priest and not even the bishop is teaching the people certain less politically correct tenants of the faith or the less popular aspects of Christian morality. We are then left with a flat generic Christianity not unlike mainline Protestantism.
IMO only the liturgy & the papacy keeps us from totally descending into generic Christianity and only the lectionary in its post V2 vernacular wealth saves us from the excesses of historical criticism. The bishop’s conference & many major superiors seem unable to hold the line against generic Christianity and relativism. Without papal witness and direct assistance from the Holy See people would be far more confused.
This explains why the younger priests trained after the CCC was published are more confident than older clergy in many cases.
I think the scandel that groups like VOTF (mentioned above) are responding to is the fruit of dissent in moral theology and a corresponding loss of the sense of sin. These “reform” groups too must work against the tendancy toward generic Christianity.
I’m 52-years old, and a convert to Catholicism from the Baptists. I was received into the Catholic Church on Easter Sunday 1977.
In regards to how well adult Catholics are taught to pray and to read the Scriptures in this country, my experience is that adult Catholics have very little opportunity to be taught prayer beyond the rosary. Little, most often nothing, is said about the Liturgy of the hours, lectio divina, Centering Prayer. As for Scripture, my experience again is that the level of adult scripture study is poor. Basically, a group of 6-10 adults reading passages from the NT and then relating “this is what it means to me” to the others.
However, this in no way means that adults do not DESIRE prayer beyond the rosary and Scripture study beyond “this is what it means to me.” I have conducted several adult scripture classes where I have compared and contrasted the Infancy Narratives in Mt and Lk. The adults in these classes were amazed at the differences, and were like sponges in soaking up this “new knowledge.” MANY of these adults would come up to me and say, “I’ve never heard this stuff before.” These were life-long Catholics. I also conducted a class comparing the Passion accounts in the four Gospels. Again, I got the same reaction.
Among other sources, I used the Anchor commentaries (especially Fitzmyer’s and Brown’s) for these classes. The class ate this stuff up. My point is that Catholic adults are hungry for serious study, but many of the priests I’ve worked with have the attitude of, “let’s don’t go over their heads.” THAT”S part of the problem. Too often the Church is condescending.
MOK:
” I think the scandel that groups like VOTF (mentioned above) are responding to is the fruit of dissent in moral theology and a corresponding loss of the sense of sin. These “reform” groups too must work against the tendancy toward generic Christianity. ”
I’m not sure where you get this mistaken information. The members of VOTF, in the main, are an ever-decreasing segment of US Catholicism that even cares enough about it to attempt to bring to light STRUCTURAL problems and to work to correct them. Individual members have a variety of opinions on such things as celibacy, divorce, etc., but if you would take the time to read the charter of VOTF you would see that their goals have nothing to do with Church doctrine.
Rather, it is fighting the blatant misuse of clerical power that has resulted in child abuse, financial mismanagement AND misappropriation, and a defensive tendency that results in throttling the laity whenever it starts to ask too many uncomfortable questions.
Now if you want to call that disset, have a go. I call it taking one’s vocation as a committed layperson seriously within the confines of how the Church is run from a STRUCTURAL perspective. Believe me, VOTF has a very good idea about a loss of the sense of sin within the governing structure of our Church!
Mark Plaiss,
I am glad that you have been doing what your have been doing, and I am wondering if you could let us know under what auspices you held the classes you describe. I ask because I might be interested in doing something similar.
To take up the second question, I agree with Father Komonchak as to the lack of preparation of young Catholics in church history and doctrine. And those locals who have turned up in my college classes and who have gone to Catholic school seem to know little or nothing about the Catholic background in Chaucer. (Monks? Friars? Nuns? Indulgences? Fasting? Penance?)
There is, I think, a generation gap in knowledge, but I don’t know where the dividing line comes, or why it comes. (For the record, I think much of the blame for falling off in knowledge and practice often laid on Vatican II is just a post hoc, ergo propter hoc argument and quite invalid. A lot more has gone on in the world since then.)
1. I have little idea what the private prayers of people I know might be like, let alone those of the American Catholic public at large, but imagine they would– and should– differ greatly from person to person. I recall annual retreats in high school and college all conducted by Jesuits and drawing on Ignatian methods of prayer. I got more out of a graduate course in Hopkins than all those retreats put together. You have to find out what speaks to you.
The parishes in our area mean well, I think. We have attended occasional “spirituality workshops” of variable quality given by visiting religious, and our parish has a group focused on “centering prayer” that some find helpful. They have been advertising an Ignatian “19th Annotation Retreat next year as well. Perhaps more typical of the local scene is a neighboring parish which has a proliferation of Marian devotions, a Padre Pio group, a Third–Order Franciscan group, and occasional pilgrimages to Eastern European shrines.
2. I had courses in scripture in College (now much out of date) and have more recently been reading in various basic commentaries like the Fitz-Meyer and Brown commentaries Mark mentions. My husband and I participated in a lay-led scripture study group in our parish last year, and found it quite worthwhile, though the text used had that “what does this mean to you?” sort of study apparatus, with oddly manipulative questions. And if you looked at other commentaries as well, the notes were sometimes downright misleading. We learned a great deal as we actively read “with-and-against” that text, but we are academics and used to doing that. Given the importance of scripture study, it is surprising that so little organized study is available in parishes, and truly scandalous that the clergy preaching on the texts for mass so often don’t bother to do their homework.
3. I had a college course long ago in “Christian Tradition and Culture,” but it could only offer the tip of the iceberg so far as Church history is concerned. I Our parish did offer a short course on Church history a couple of years ago, but I think it had an “apologetics” slant. It is certainly possible to read on your own in this area, and you can pick up good reading leads in the book reviews and articles in Catholic journals. In fact among the bookish, Catholic Church history is a hot topic these days. I haven’t explored the possibility of internet courses, but that might be a way to go, because I doubt very much that any of the local clergy would be likely to offer anything in depth. What they did in the seminary is a mystery to me.
4. For some people the ideal of a faith in search of understanding may seem inevitable: they wouldn’t want to –probably couldn’t–live their religion any other way. I think there are many Commonweal readers just like that. More power to them. It’s a pity there aren’t more programs to help them. But I am not sure this is an approach for everyone. Aren’t there some simple but profound souls who come to understanding of a sort more directly and intuitively? Why lay a burden on them that they don’t need? And think of the fragile, the doubtful, the easily confused, and the not -so- bright. There are lots of them out there. Appealing as this ideal might seem, unless it could be presented in such a way as to be measurable to each individual’s special needs, it might be more of a hazard than a help to many worthy people. In any case, it is an ideal that isn’t always exemplified for Catholics in any rigorous way by their clergy and hierarchy—at least as far as one can tell: to be fair, they seem not always to be free to say what they may think. That would have to change, for starters.
Joe Gannon,
Joe, James Villa OFM conducts bible classes every two week at St Mary’s in Mt Vernon and in Mamaroneck. His classes are very popular. I can put you in touch with him if you want.
When I began paying attention to various conservative Catholic blogsites maybe two or so years ago, I soon learned (the hard way) the imporance of our knowing the human history of the Church. Dates and facts put folks to sleep. Understanding the human dimension (concerns, conflicts, debates, etc. of past history-makers in the Church) tends, I believe, to retain people’s interest — especially if a particular historical episode or development relates to a current controversy. We need to know the bad as well as the good. On the other hand, we do not need, as one contributor has noted, an apologetical history.
The CCC is bad. It could be perceived as a rehash of the old starchy content — without the questions — of the Baltimore Catechisms that my and earlier generations had to endure in grade school. I own a copy and occasionally use it as a reference, but it collects dust, nonetheless.
Regarding adult catechesis, I have tended to nod off from time to time during the more traditional, tried-and-true didactic presentations. As an adult, I do not relish sitting passively in a room while a fellow adult, albeit more learned in the subject at hand, puts us to sleep with his/her erudition. My undergraduate and graduate days are behind me. Nothing would preclude, for example, a parish- or school-based Church history course using a core textbook, good handouts, and properly handled discussion — with beverages, pastries, veggies, and restrooms nearby.
But the CCC and apologetical histories have to go. Ugh!
Postscript:
My basic suggestion here is “Involve the adult learner” (I’ll leave it to educators to deal with undergrads, high schoolers, etc.).
Re: the CCC, it may be OK as a shelf reference, but that’s all (and that, to me, is not much in terms of its usefulness). The Learning Pyramid comes to mind. Case studies, discussion, perhaps even role-play, among various possibilities.
I am not trying to overlook “the intellectual” in this discussion. Room for it, too. I think, however, that most adult Catholics will do well to learn the basics of Catholic theology (incl. moral theology and ethics) and history and the practical lessons and knowledge derived therefrom.
One of the ironies of our comparison between pre and post Vatican II is that the people or the local church controlled devotions whether locally or at shrines.
After Vatican II devotions were scoffed at and the liturgy was controlled by more educated Catholics who were acting under the direction of Rome.
What this did was give Rome a more direct control over devotion/liturgy which it was always striving for.
So despite the ignorant Catholics that we may be able to discover more now, Catholics may know a lot more about the faith than they did prior to V2.
Here is where the marvelous works of Robert Orsi can be quite helpful.
There are tons of nuances here and the reason I suggest we should revisit it often.
I have been thinking about the proposition, if I understand it corectly, that “fides quaerens intellectum” can be a part of every Catholic’s life. Here is what I take to be a case in point. I am looking for comment. We all recite the Nicene Creed at least once a week. The Creed is in some part a theological construction, the result of theological reflection by people of faith seeking understanding (in some part it is history). When we recite the Creed we ought to understand what we are saying. I do not mean that we ought to understand the Trinity, but we ought to understand what the Creed says, what it affirms and what it denies. In reflecting on the content of the Creed in that sense, I would like to suggest that we are engaged in seeking a better understanding of what we believe by faith. Does anyone find this plausible?
Bill.
Thanks for the offer! Let me get back to you tomorrow.
Joe,
Who serves as your example of the “adult learner”? Sophisticated is one thing. Sophistiacated with respect to the faith is another. I am thinking of professionals, say lawyers. I know some young lawyers – who are extraordinarly sophisticated and nuanced about the process of reasoning within the legal tradition. But if you gave them say, Frank Sullivan’s book Creative Fidelity, which describes a process of theoological reasoning which is remarkably similar to legal reasoning, they’d be very resistant; they would find the idea that religious traditions developed in ways analogous to other traditions would be both threatening and repugnant to them. In other words, they dont WANT to apply the same level of sophisticated thought to their faith life and their work–they find it threatening to faith.
At the same time, I know some other young lawyers who might think that the faith was worth their intellectual attention –rather than merely their intermittent piety — if they thought they were permitted to bring to bear their full breadth of talents in understanding how doctrine is made, as well as how law is made.
So I think you need to look at the sophistication of the adult learner with respect to faith, not only with respect to their job. At times one doesn’t correspond to the other, not only with respect to the amount known, but also with respect to the sophistication of the knower about how all the propostions actually in the CCC actually got there
Cathy
Thanks, Fr. Komonchak, for your postings. I’m a retired philosophy teacher. I’ve been a member of the local university Catholic Center since 1972. Please let me offer a few impressions for what they’re worth.
1. My impression is that a large percentage of active Catholics in our congregation take it that being a good Catholic consists mainly in taking part in a set of practices and observing a set of prohibitions. Sure, they know that Jesus is God as well as man, but that’s not something for them to think much about. And if topics in social justice come up, then these are, for them, pretty self-standing moral issues, not issues that flow from Christian doctrine.
2. The preaching that I’m exposed to in my local congregation rarely reflects recent biblical scholarship. The homilies frequemtly have only scant connections with the readings and, all to often, when thee are connections they are naive.
3. Our local RCIA program is very successful in terms of numbers. Twenty-five or so people comeinto the church each year. I tried working a bit with this program for a few years. My wife did so for a longer period. We’ve both decided that our RCIA program, here in a university setting, is so shallow that neither of us wanted to be associated with it.
I’m not interested in throwing stones. I do appreciate how hard our clergy and their staffs work. But there is not, at least not here, any obvious recognition on their part that their educational programs need substantial improvement.
It would be nice if my experience were atypical. If it is, that’s good news.
Susan and Joe:
I think that Duffy’s point was that the “fides quaerens intellectum” was something all Christians could undertake, and that there are ways of access to a fuller understanding of the faith other, and even better, than the ones academic theologians pursue. In the middle of one of his homilies on John 6, Augustine exclaimed: “Da mihi amantem!” “Give me someone who loves and he’ll understand what I mean, but a person of cold heart will not.” In one of his pre-papal writings Joseph Ratzinger spoke of theology as “love seeking understanding,” that is trying to understand what or whom one finds oneself loving.
I think this is part of the reason why Lash put that question about praying among his four questions.
I’m curious to know about the RCIA program that the poster above found “shallow” what was the proportion of clerical/paid staff to volunteer team members in the design and shaping of the program.
I always found the biggest challenge in RCIA to be balancing the usual low level of knowledge of the inductees with providing a non-shallow presentation. Fortunately their commitment and patience almost always made this possible.
One thing we typically found was the students/participants (whatever the word was) were almost always interested in our presentations on church history, sometimes rather broadly defined and non-mainstream in focus. This was almost always a surprise to the priest in charge.
Also, in my experience teaching (Jr High) catechism the level of knowledge of Catholicism, the Bible, cultural background of my foreign students (particularly from Italy, India, and Hong Kong) was, with maybe two exceptions, far greater than that of my American born students.
Some of you might find this outrageous. But as I see it, the Nicene Creed is one of the most ineffective documents ever produced. It is more a reflection of disputes than a proclamation of faith. It is the most barren part of the Sunday liturgy. The apostles creed is stronger, clearer, more uplifting and more riveting.
The Nicene Creed shows that it was something that many were forced to adhere to and to this day it is being changed in the liturgy.
This is the problem with most of our theology even after V2. They are propositions to be proven rather than good news to proclaim.
Even on progressive lists people are more adept at explaining venial, mortal sins, how to confess sins, what vestments to wear in seasons, even transubstantiation, than they are at sharing their joy with their associates and friends.
Understandably, we abhor becoming preachy like the fundamentalists but that does not mean our language should remain juridical.
After all it was only after Nicea that Christians started killing each other. Maybe if we got rid of the Nicene Creed we might even correct our just war theology also.
Why many are so enamored by Nicea is beyond me. It sure was a nasty time for being a Christian. Unless, of course, you wanted a favor from the emperor.
From the street-level as a deacon and DRE, I’d have to say that things are not as bad as many seem to think, but not as good, given education and literacy rates, as they could be. This presents us all, as adult Catholics, professional and non-professional, with a challenge.
I have been undertaking a program to make adult education the foundation of our parish’s program. If parents truly are the primary catechists of their children, if we are going to evangelize, this seems only natural. People are not allergic to theology, they just need a lexicon.
As for praying, how many ordained, professed religious, theologians have an active nurtured spiritual life beyond reading about prayer and spirituality? Far too few. Has anyone ever tried to seek out a competent spiritual director?
Unlike the U.K. the U.S. is not completely secularized. However, we have a lot of unhealthy religion. I can’t tell you the number of Catholics who have been influenced by The Left Behind series of books. Or, in this age of mass media, how many people watch hour upon hour of ETWN. Granted, some EWTN programming is quite good (one example: The Journey Home). My point here being, the Church has to embrace the media age, like Commonweal has with this blog.
Challenges excite me. “The harvest is plentiful , but the laborers are few.”
A few more brief comments:
it’s really important not to conflate indoctrination with formation. Some may do this, but the real struggle of making ones faith mean something each day is easily lost. I submit in our more individualistic, less communitarian world, a special question we need to keep teasing out is how much our politics influences our faith and vice versa. If our faith is really about adult belief, are we far undercomitted in terms of manpower and money to develop that side? Finally, generalizations about various age groups(like old timers like me) are useful, but generalizations. Folks are at many stages of development (cf. e.g. Jane Regan’s Toward An Adult Church)
Joe Gannon:
I am a deacon in the Diocese of Gary, and part of my duties is adult formation. The classes about which I wrote in yesterday’s post were held once a week for 90 minutes (with a 15 minute break). The Infancy Narrative classes ran 4 weeks (during Advent), while the Passion Narratives ran 6 weeks (during Lent). I used no fancy equipment, just handouts and a blackboard.
Now, I know for a fact that dotCommonweal has many readers who are professors of theology and many who are religious educators–many more than those who have piped up here. So, what are you waiting for? If you’re looking for a coin slot in which to deposit your two cents, this is it.
Among its many salutary purposes (intended or unintended), this blog is a welcome teaching tool, and this thread in particular has been very instructive to me, especially the suggestions for combatting the religious-theological illiteracy among American Catholics.
While it is no doubt possible to enter into eternal reward without knowing the meaning of “eschatology” or “Arianism” or “Q,” it always surprises me how little Catholics know about their faith. (While I’ve tried to correct the most glaring deficiencies in my knowledge, I still count myself a neophyte, too.) One weekend about ten years ago, the low Catholic I.Q. of our parish was made abundantly clear by a visiting priest. Visiting priests seem to be of two main types. The majority are very pleasant, and knowing they are temps who are unfamiliar with the idiosyncrasies of this particular branch of the Body of Christ, they hesitate to say or do anything controversial. Every once in a while, however, a visiting priest comes along who likes to shake things up. Father X, who was also a university professor, was of the latter type.
Father X began Mass well enough, grabbing our attention with an anecdote (always an effective tool, IMO). Our parish church was at the time undergoing extensive renovations, and the Baptist church next door graciously offered its space for Sunday Mass. When Father X reached the altar, he commented, “Now I’ve seen everything. We’re celebrating Mass in a Baptist church, and we’ve just finished singing a Lutheran hymn. However, I know for certain I’m among Catholics.” [Dramatic pause as he looked around the congregation.] “No one is sitting in the front pews!” It got a good laugh, and it seemed the communal spirit was going to be especially vibrant that day.
Father X used his homily to comment further on the unusual venue for the Mass. He was also very complimentary about the detailed knowledge that Baptists, as a whole, have about Scripture. Catholics, as a whole, paled in comparison, he said. I could be mistaken, but I’m sure I heard a few murmurs in the crowd. Then Father X decided to “quiz” the congregation, tossing out such questions as, “What are the Synoptic Gospels? In what language were the books of the New Testament originally written? In what century was the New Testament canon finalized?” I had the feeling that many of his students must have been the targets of those questions, too. Each of the dozen questions was eventually answered correctly, but luckily there were no points lost for incorrect answers:
Father X: Which of the Evangeists also wrote the Acts of the Apostles?
Parishioner: It was Matthew, Father.
Father: No, sorry.
Parishioner: Then it had to be John.
Father: Again, sorry.
Parishioner: Mark?
Father: No, but the odds are now in your favor.
Parishioner: Luke!
Father (with a big smile): Brilliant!
I thought Father X had good-naturedly and effectively made his point about Scriptural illiteracy, and when he said we were more nearly “baptized pagans” than “baptized Catholics” I thought it was funny, but some took offense.
Father X’s quiz prompted me to learn more about my faith, and it’s strange how the Holy Spirit can work at times. Our parish heard Sunday Mass in the Baptist church for almost a year, and a deep bond formed between both congregations. Potluck dinners, ecumenical services, and other shared events opened up numerous opportunities for finding the common spiritual bonds between us, and there are many.
And in one-on-one conversations we probed the differences in a respectful way–e.g., “Why do Catholics worship Mary? (“We don’t worship her. We venerate her, and here’s the difference between the two”). As any teacher knows, you haven’t really learned a subject until you can explain it to someone else. Feeling the duty (not in an apologetics sense) to answer correctly and fully the questions of our Baptist brethren has certainly motivated many in the parish to take a deeper journey into our own faith.
Baptized pagans? I don’t think so.
Pious agnostics? I very much think so. And that’s on a good day.
Fr. Komonchak:
Thanks for the clarification. What an interesting set of subjects you proposed for our consideration. You give us a lot to think about.
First, a short answer to Gene O’Grady about my experience with RCIA. Our local program is directed by a paid member of the Center’s staff. She usually has a few lay people helping her as well as a few more people that she invites to talk at one or a few sessions. She selects the topics and gets speakers to fit them. My impression is that she has been to one or more workshops about how to conduct RCIA programs. These workshops, I presume, have shaped her view of what a solid program is. I have two criticisms. First, she does not expect the inquirers to do any particular reading, even though we’re a community that is supposed to serve the univeersity personnel. Second, too few of the sessions deal with the meaning of the Church and its sacramental life. Too much time is spent on peripheral matters like why ther are novenas, rosaries, etc. Now that I think of it, I do have another thing I’d like to see emphasized. I think that an inquirer’s sponsor could be asked to play a bigger role and helped to do so.
For the record, I have to admit that I don’t think I did a very good job educating my own children in the faith or in the importance of prayer. So, again, i’m not in position to throw stones.
One last thing. For those who have blogged about the Nicean Creed, let me suggest Luke Timothy Johnson’s “The Creed.” It’s first rate.
I find it of no small interest that Grant needs to exhort professors of theology and other teachers to share here. Is their failure to share here due to fear from the CNS or a new round of Ex Corde imperatives?
My experience is these professors will share privately but are slow to share in public. Before the pedophilia explosion, professors talked about the fierce widespread fear engendered by Ex Corde.
Was the flak on the Vagina Monologues just the beginning of a new drive of CDF hounds?
Actually, I don’t think that the problem comes from the CDF or from concern about “Ex corde Ecclesiae,” but from faculties of theology or religious studies at many Catholic colleges that don’t seem to think that they have a particular responsibility to try to hand on the faith for adult appropriation.
I gave a talk a year or so ago at a Catholic college that shall remain unnamed in which I suggested that a program that enables students to fulfil their “religion” requirements with a course on the feminist critique of religion and another on Meso-American creation-myths might not be meeting its responsibilities in, to and for the Church. I almost had my head handed to me.
Sometimes the defense is: “We don’t do catechetics; we do scholarly theology or religious studies.” Apart from the sneering attitude toward catechesis, this type of comment shows an indifference to the needs of many students. It would be considered an act of justice and even love if a college were to offer remedial courses in English, say, to students who came from disadvantaged backgrounds. Well, that describes many of our incoming students when it comes to knowledge of their faith and heritage.
I’d be happy to find that these observations aren’t true in general; but if there is any truth to them, I’d like to know how different colleges are trying to meet the challenge.
It’s been ages since I graduated from a Catholic university, where there were 12 required credits for courses that were clearly focused on Catholic formation. I’m not as familiar with the religion requirements at Catholic universities today, but could it be that the types of courses challenged by Fr. Komonchak are offered because the % of non-Catholics at Catholic universities has significantly increased over the years? Perhaps some Catholic universities offer so many non-formative courses (or don’t require mandatory formative courses) because (a) they want to attract good students of many backgrounds, and (b) they don’t want to offend anyone in the diverse student bodies they have created.
Diversity of every kind in a student body, including religious diversity, enriches everyone, and I’m all for it, but without at least some prescribed Catholic formation courses, doesn’t a university lose its essential Catholic nature to some degree?
I have children in Catholic high schools with student bodies that contain significant numbers of non-Catholics. The non-Catholic students must take the same religion courses–almost all would fall into the formative type–as the Catholic students, yet that requirement has not dampened the desire of many non-Catholic parents who want their children educated at the schools.
I’m not an academic, but I know there are many who post here, and I’d be interested in their thoughts about how Catholic (catholic?) a Catholic university should be.
Cathy, thank you for your July 17 comments.
Rather than describe an “example” of an adult learner, I think it may be helpful to describe some of the characteristics of adult learning. The leader in this field of “andragogy” was the late Malcolm Knowles whose book THE ADULT LEARNER: A NEGLECTED SPECIES was (and may still be) considered a classic in its field. Although out of print, it can be found on Amazon and perhaps at second-hand book stores. This field is predicated on two understandings: adults have experiences to bring to the process, and adults must be involved in the learning process. As Knowles observed, one cannot define the adult learner in terms of age. Some teens, for example, can be adult learners in that they must juggle several traditionally adult responsibilities but, nonetheless, take on the responsibility to learn. There are adults, on the other hand, who show no interest in learning and, thus, do not take the initiative to improve themselves.
Adult learning may be characterized by the following (Goad, 1982; Hanson, 1981):
1. Recognition that learning is, for most people, a lifetime process.
2. For optimum learning transfer, the learner must be a participant, not a spectator or attendee.
3. Each person must be responsible for his/her own learning.
4. The learning process has an emotional as well as intellectual component.
5. Adults learn by doing.
6. Problems/examples must be realistic and relevant to the learners.
7. Adults relate learning to what they already know.
8. An informal environment works best. The more formality, the greater the possibility of arousing tension and resentment, which inhibit learning.
9. Variety stimulates. Try to incorporate a variety of learning techniques — visual, kinesthetic, auditory — that can help reduce boredom and fatigue.
10. Use a win-win, nonjudgmental approach. Focus on learning objectives, not on tests and grading procedures.
11. The trainer/facilitator is a change agent. His/her responsibility is to present information that encourages learner exploration. The learners’ responsibility is to take what is offered and apply it in a way that is relevant and best for them.
(Above is from a University Associates publication dealing with theories and models of human behavior.)
Your examples of the lawyers illustrate, I think, the importance of knowing something of the prospective participants. A pre-course survey might be helpful in developing a training design. If offering a course on Church history, what do potential participants want to see covered? (We’re dealing here, of course, with non-academic, community-based programs.) What backgrounds/experiences do future participants bring to the learning situation? In addition to knowing something of prospective learners, the trainer obviously needs to consider resource constraints and what s/he thinks is important to include.
I should not omit reference to the so-called “cone of learning” that addresses how much learners tend to remember vis-a-vis their level of involvement. We tend to remember 10% of what we read, for instance, whereas we tend to remember 90% of what we both say and do. This would suggest the importance of stressing participation rather than mere attendance.
True story: I once belonged to a support group that met each week. One night, the program planner invited an individual to give a presentation on the history of the Church’s treatment of marriage and divorce. For this presentation, we were, indeed, a “captive audience.” The information was one-way. Questions were discouraged because the presenter had so much information to convey within the relatively limited time available. No paper or writing instruments available. No handouts. No suggested resource/reference list. No flipchart. Nothing — except the lecturer going through his notes and deciding, aloud, to skip this and cover that. Heads were bobbing. Eyes were rolling. Yawns were stifled. This has been my experience with the few parish-based or other learning programs I’ve had the misfortune to attend — but not participate in.
Father Komonchak, you quoted Augustine stating, “Give me someone who loves and he’ll understand what I mean, but a person of cold heart will not.” Within the context of adult learning, perhaps we could rephrase Augustine’s observation thus: “Give me someone who loves the learning experience and he’ll grow as a person, but the individual turned cold by the experience will not.”
For religious educators, I think a key question is “How do I make the course content and learning process challenging and enjoyable for adults who bring their own life experiences to share with me and others and want to become better human beings and citizens of the Church?”
I’ll stick to 3 and 4. My experience at the level of the parish (and archdiocese) is that there’s an aversion to the idea of passing on basic facts. The fear is that it will be a turnoff.
“Adult formation is about more than catechesis.” If I hear this one more time from our harried and good-hearted DRE (or the archdiocesan RE liasion) I. Will. Scream.
The truism is, yes, true–but incomplete. It can’t be LESS than catechesis, either. Houses built on sand, and all that. The gathering-to-share-stories-thing is so blinkered that I use an analogy: it’s like asking students who have barely heard about the Constitution, let alone know what’s in it, how they feel about the Eleventh Amendment.
As a result, I’ve thrown up my hands and retreated to the parish bible study I set up three years ago, where there is an interest in content first and subjective reactions taking a silver medal.
The problem isn’t that adult Catholics don’t know much. It’s that they don’t know that they don’t know. And by and large, we seem to be fine with that and don’t regard it as the grave crisis it is.
Dale, I agree. The principles of adult education should not be construed as applying only to “touchy-feely” subjects. I think we are singing from the same hymnal. With respect to catechetical formation, for example, the program should maximize opportunity for learner involvement with such involvement including not only emotional response (“What this means to me”) but, just as important, how course content applies, for example, to current issues in the faith community. If participants see course content as irrelevant to their needs/experiences/etc., one may as well turn off the lights and close the door. I think the same observation would hold true for a Bible studies program. (By the way, I have never been a “touchy-feely” person although I never neglected the affective — as appropriate to learning objectives — in supervisory training courses I developed and facilitated for medical center staff over the years.)
Joe:
It does appear that we are on the same page. I agree–Content can’t be presented as abstract rules separated from the nitty-gritty of real life. That’s the way it works in our bible study, too–but the study is premised on the essential idea that you have to know what the text says and means before you can have a meaningful reaction to it.
I suppose I’m just speaking from frustrated experience. I remember a woman at the beginning of our study who had shuttled around and was seriously considering going to an evangelical church. At her wits end, she said: “Just give me something! Why is it so difficult to get Catholics to explain what we believe?”
I think this woman’s expression of frustration illustrates that different folks can bring different wants/needs to a learning situation. In an ideal setting, of course, the trainer (for lack of a better word) would go through all the steps to select/develop/tailor a solid learning experience for all participants. In the real world, of course, we too often have a different picture dictated by time constraints, etc. The important point I wish to make on this thread is that while it may take more time and effort to have a course/program with participation instead of attendance, there should be enhanced outcomes for everyone involved including the trainer.
All my comments have dealt with (for lack of a better way to put it) non-academic learning experiences that conceivably could be facilitated by a high school graduate or a PhD. Obviously there are different considerations involved in formal academic settings at the college/university level.
Thanks for the very interesting string of comments. I would suggest that the virtue of wisdom (not “wisdom” as a collection of aphorisms) might provide a functional measuring stick for thinking about what is needed for the formation of adult Catholics. As I understand it, wisdom is a synthesizing virtue that requires and melds both theoretical knowledge and practical insights for the sake of meaningful and effective action. Viewed this way, formation has a functional, fundamental and life-long objective. It might help sort through the possibilities, both for institutions and individuals.
I would also suggest that lack of talk in the American Church (in my experience) about wisdom as a virtue is a symptom of what concerns Nicholas Lash about life in the Church. The flip side of the absence of regard for the virtue of wisdom is the absence of concern about its opposite, foolishness. There was a time when wisdom was seen as the first virtue because any other virtue pursued foolishly will come to an inadvertently destructive end. It seems to me that all quarters of the Church today (but fortunately not all people in the Church!) have a remarkable tolerance for foolishness and nonsense. Perhaps we should be regarding this as a vice and not just an unhappy circumstance.
On the topic of history, I would add that taking history seriously means realizing as fully as possible that we live our lives in history right now and that virtually everything we say and do is an expression of our own personal history amid larger histories developing around us. We do not live in an antiseptic present that levitates miraculously above history, away from “history” conceived as the sometime useful slew of facts that are taught in university courses. I tend to think that meaningful formation of adults, especially in an institution defined significantly by tradition, means we have to do a better job of understanding history as fundamental to being human. Viewed this way, a deeper appreciation of history is essential to the development of the virtue of wisdom. (See, that wasn’t a digression!)
Mark, I like your “take” on wisdom! Thanks!
I was in RCIA not too many years ago, and that was all our parish has ever offered in the way of adult formation.
Rather than go on a whiny rant about what was wrong with it, I would highly recommend that a creative RCIA director consider using last season’s “Simpsons” episode “The Father, the Son and the Holy Guest Star,” in which Bart and Homer convert (briefly) to Catholicism, urged on by the hip priest Fr. Sean, voiced by Liam Neeson.
Marge is incensed by what she considers Fr. Sean’s sheep-stealing tactics, and worries that Bart and Homer will end up in Catholic heaven, forever separated from her in Protestant heaven.
The episode explores stereotypes that Protestants and Catholics have about each other. And it runs the gamut of topics that converts must ponder during RCIA, but it might get some of those conversations going wiht a bit of humor, that seems to me so sorely needed when we all talk about religion.
The episode would be a great springboard for some questions that RCIA doesn’t touch on enough, at least in my experience:
1. How did (do you expect) your family to react when you tell them you’re converting? Will they, like Marge, have preconceived notions about Catholics? How will you respond?
2. Marge believes that the Catholics are using underhanded methods to convert Bart and Homer. What do you think is the best way to share your faith with others? What kind of faith sharing have you found distasteful? How do Catholics view evangelism in your parish?
3. Homer wants to be a Catholic largely because he thinks he can commit whatever sins he wants and then be forgiven in Confession. What’s wrong with Homer’s thinking? What is a sacrament? How do sacraments make Catholics different from Protestants?
4. Catholic heaven, as Marge imagines it, is full of Italians, Mexicans and Irish, all partying in ethnic fashion. Protestant heaven is a WASP country club where people talk on cell phones. Jesus prefers Catholic heaven. Who wouldn’t? To what extent does Marge’s idea of the two heavens reflect the history of Protestantism and Catholicism in our country? Does the Catholic Church today reflect Marge’s idea of Catholic heaven? How?
5. The episode ends with Bart pointing out that all denominations are Christian and should try harder to get along. Do you agree? Why?
Jean, a big two thumbs up :) !!!
Isn’t it interesting that this thread has provoked more discussion about the RCIA and other adult programs than about our educational undertakings–religious education programs, schools, colleges, universities, seminaries, etc.?
Fr. Komonchak, I’ll forgive you for being a university professor :) !
Seriously, there’s a lot of money in what might (still?) be called the less formal side of education/training in church, industry, government, etc. I have no idea what the dollar figure might be, but I’d guess it is in the millions.
Yes, the RCIA angle has derailed Fr. Komonchok’s original questions.
But the overarching issue was about how well adult Catholics are trained in the faith.
Possibly a lot of regions are like mine; there just isn’t any adult training outside RCIA. If there were, I wouldn’t be on this blog all the time.
I’m not trying to downplay adult-education programs; in fact, I think it should be one of our top priorities, in good part because of the failure of our educational institutions. I’m puzzled why this isn’t a matter of greater interest. Are we just resigned to it?
I can only speak anecdotally about my area, but there is a preoccupation in our rural churches with staying afloat financially, which means fundraising, which means hog roasts and Bingo.
Adults are constantly being strong-armed to work these events and “give to the church in time if not treasure.”
Once somebody’s signed on for spring clean-up in the parish hall, or decorating the church for Christmas/Easter or done their bit at Bingo/hog roast, the attiude is, “I’ve already spent enough time at church.” (And people are strapped for time these days.)
When an elderly fellow parishioner started a Bible study program, I was happy to participate. Except that the only people who showed up were converts with a lot of leftover RCIA questions. Adult Catholics themselves stayed away in droves and seemed to have an aversion to faith formation.
Given what I’ve seen of my son’s CCD program, I would guess some of the aversion takes root in childhood.
Things are much different at the university student parish, of course, but those in the hinterlands rely on NCR, Commonweal, Magnifcat and Homer Simpson to help us grow in the faith.
Any faith formation in a Catholic church has to be done under the direction of the priest. I don’t object to that in any way at all, but a lot of priests are old and don’t want to deal with more work. That seems to be a big reason some of our diocesan schools aren’t doing too well.
As a teacher at Boston College for over 30 years, I find it increasingly difficult each year to teach the basics of the Bible and the theology of the creed. I have never stopped trying to do so. In relation to my experience and to Fr Komonchak’s posting, I found possibly relevant this quotation on the absorption of religion by democracy from Pierre Manent, “The Theologico-Political Vector,” A World beyond Politics? A Defense of the Nation-State, translated by Marc LePain (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University, 2006), 24-4:
I shall take my starting point the recent evolution of religion, with help from Marcel Gauchet’s La Religion dans la démocratie: parcours de la laïcité (Religion in Democracy: The Advance of Secularism). This essay is a continuation and illustration of a much more ambitious book: The Disenchantment of the World, published in 1985. It will suffice for us to recall the heart of Gauchet’s general thesis. In his view we have gone beyond religion, not religious faith—there still are believers—but a world where religion was a major “structuring” element, where it commanded the political form of societies and where, more generally, it defined the organization of the social bond. Gauchet writes: “The emergence from religion is a passage into a world where the religions continue to exist, but within a political form and a collective order that they no longer determine.” What was decisive in the process, according to Gauchet, is Christianity, the religion that made the end of religion possible. …
For Marcel Gauchet, secularism’s current trouble is inseparable from religion’s current trouble. What is the “current trouble” of religion? First it is the weakening of the churches: the decrease in religious practice, the decline in vocations, and the weakening of the authority of the magisterium. The decisive point for Gauchet is not in changes that can be measured from the outside, but in the transformation of the meaning of religion for its practitioners themselves. It is not so much that they are less numerous, but that they are different. In the eyes of the faithful themselves, the churches no longer truly have the authority to determine belief, and even less to guide political choices or regulate morals. It is not only a matter of taking stock of what English sociologists have called “the unchurching of Europe,” but more deeply, of observing that the intimate meaning of belief is changing or already has changed. A shift has taken place from toleration to “pluralism.” Gauchet uses the term “pluralism” in a precise sense.
By pluralism I do not mean the simple resignation to the de facto existence of people who do not think as you do. I mean the believer’s integration of the fact of the legitimate of other beliefs in his relation to his own belief. To state matters in more direct terms, pluralism as a given and a rule of society is one thing; pluralism in the head of believers is another. The principled pluralism of confessions in America, the take the extreme example, was for a long time able to accommodate especially rigorist forms of adherence within the different confessions. Everyone acknowledges the other’s freedom, but does not hold any less to a style of conviction of his own that excludes the idea that other convictions are possible. Herein lies the whole difference between toleration as a political principle and pluralism as an intellectual principle The intimate relativizing of belief is the characteristic product of our century, the fruit of the penetration of the democratic spirit into the very soul of the spirit of faith. The metamorphosis of religious convictions in religious identities constitutes its outcome.
Gauchet believes that contemporary believers do not see religion as an objective universal truth, that is, a truth that is true for all and thus one that all “ought to believe.” They choose it rather to choose themselves, for the subjective definition it provides them, the “identity” it bestows on them. Hence, “believers” to not seek to convince or convert others, they do not even try to argue in favor of their religion (in fact, what was called “apologetics” has so to speak completely disappeared from contemporary religious discourse). But, conversely, they do not accept that anyone can argue against it, they want everyone to “respect” it. Insofar as believers view their religion as a personal choice that defines their identity, any critique of their religion becomes an act of aggression against their person, a “lack of respect.”
Thanks, Fred, for additional insights from Gauchet. While pondering his ideas, I’m curious: How does he reach his conclusions such as “… contemporary believers do not see religion as an objective universal truth, that is, a truth that is true for all and thus one that all “ought to believe.”
It seems like this assumes an awful lot about the average contemporary believer.
Jean,
In both of his books referred to by Manent, Gauchet makes insightful statements that one presumes are based on empirical data, but the sources for that are never given. The social scientist/philosopher seems to be saying, “Trust me, this is what’s happening.” What the reader is left with is either their own experience of the matter in question, or other empirical studies that may be available to one–e.g. from Greeley’s group at U. of Chicago.
You are right about assumptions, then. But I thought a lot of what he said illumined my own experience as a teacher of undergrads at BC in recent years.
G’day
I stumbled onto this blog today and was wondering (just as Fr Komonchak wondered whether Lash’s comments could be verified in the American milieu) how both might resonate with the Australian context. Three cultures separated by a common language (to borrow from George Bernard Shaw).
Various posts have dealt with various strategies for facilitating fides quaerens intellectum (university courses, RCIA, study groups, etc). As might be expected, none of them are efficient in their own right. My experience with the RCIA in a former parish was that its effectiveness (and no doubt it could be improved) was becausethe “doctrinal” sessions were conducted in tandem with liturgical celebrations across the entire year.
I found all of the comments “interesting” but was especially “intrigued” by Fred Lawrence’s contribution. (I should note, perhaps, that I am familiar with both Komonchak and Lawrence in other contexts)
If I understand the gist of what Gauchet has to say, then it would seem to follow that while fides quaerens intellectum names a generic exigence or drive, there are as many species as there are cultural and/or historic manifestations of that desire.
As a “pastoral council” Vatican II perhaps inaugurated an “updated” (aggiornamento) way of “being Catholic” but that “new” way was hardly “novel” in the context of the previous century of biblical and patristic studies. History as well as “fides” provides a context for “intellectum”
And then there is American History. This is where Gauchet’s comments hit home. “Respect” often means no more than it means to Ali G. My wife, Australian by birth but with 17 years of US “experience”, has often remarked that the big difference between the US and Australia is that while the US has a foundation myth, Australia has none. Is that foundation myth still alive in the US of A?
Australia is “another ball game” (and I don’t mean cricket). I migrated here from the US almost 18 years ago and am still tying to “psych out” Australian culture. I recently came across a book of essays by John Hirst. Sense and Nonsense in Australian History. It is not “mainstream” Australian history but what he had to say “resonates” with my experience as a “New Australian”.
Unfortunately Australia is taking its lead from the US with respect to university education. How can you expect someone to “bone up on the last 2000 years” when they are being “fast tracked” not as “citizens” (let alone Catholic citizens) but as “trainees” for the workforce?
I apologize for the ramble…hardly an adequate response to the foregoing posts.
“How can you expect someone to ‘bone up on the last 2000 years’ when they are being ‘fast tracked’ not as ‘citizens’ (let alone Catholic citizens) but as ‘trainees’ for the workforce?”
I suspect most of us outside academia haven’t given this observation much concern or perhaps any concern at all. No need to “apologize for the ramble.” I have a priest friend (no “traditionalist” by any means) who teaches theology at a Catholic school, and he’s remarked how little attention has been given this field of study by campus management. This concern, I guess, ties in with the greater question of what we expect — that is different — from a Catholic college/university that we do not expect from a private nonsectarian or government institution of higher learning.
Not everyone, of course, pursues a bachelor’s or higher degree. Therefore, perhaps we need to ask in the area of religious education/formation: What are the learning objectives in higher education, continuing adult formation, and RCIA? Are we interested only in acquisition of knowledge for its own sake, or do we want a “transfer of learning” to experiences beyond the classroom? If the latter (I hope), then our overriding objective should be preparation of adults — young and not so young — to become informed citizens of the Church. Just a “for instance:” At a time with so much divisiveness, why are some Catholics so upset with the call for renewal by Vatican II? Values, no doubt, play a role, but I suspect many reactionary Catholics lack an adequate knowledge of Church history and regard pre-Vatican II thinking as “gospel” — even though a healthy and objective look at the Church’s historical timeline would show the gradual accretion of beliefs, assumptions, and practices totally at odds with the beliefs, assumptions, and practices of our “Founding Fathers and Mothers” and of Jesus himself!
Anyway……..
I must admit that I found Fred Lawrence’s post both intriguing and frightening. I am not in a position to evaluate Manent’s comments about pluralism with respect to sociological evidence, but it rings true enough to intrigue me and make me ponder. I have 3 teenage daughters winding their way through Catholic education and Manent’s hypothesis rings true. The supreme value seems to be “nice” and any talk of seeking truth seems to make people squirm.
If there’s anything to this, it’s also rather frightening — is serious discourse about religion, values and ethics possible if pluralism is a constitutive principle and not just a political fact? In the absence of such discourse, life would seem to be driven by power and manipulation.
Fred, to the extent you find this internalized pluralism among your students, what do you do in your classes or in the way you talk with students? What can be or should be done at BC or other colleges? How might the Church respond to this? Thanks!