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This week

Fri, 17 Nov 2006 13:37:46 -0600

In this issue of Faith Alive!

In a Nutshell

Food for Thought
– full story

– full story

Faith in the Marketplace:

– Response From Readers

Faith Alive! is a service from Catholic News Service (CNS). CNS, the oldest and largest religious news service in the world, is a leading source of news for Catholic print and electronic media across the globe. With bureaus in Washington and Rome, as well as a global correspondent network, CNS since 1920 has set the standard in Catholic journalism.

In certain ways different religions resemble each other

Fri, 27 Oct 2006 13:20:37 -0500

By Father Robert L. Kinast (CNS)
When trying to interest people in a study of other religions, the most common reaction I hear is this: “I don’t have enough time to study my own faith adequately. Why should I study other religions?”
It’s a good question, and there’s an equally good answer.
The study of other religions aims at an accurate and adequate presentation of the beliefs and practices of existing religions. The purpose of such study is to come to a correct understanding of other religions and an appreciation for how they deal with the human questions and experiences common to us all.
For example, over the centuries in most cultures people have felt a religious instinct about the existence of a superior, spiritual reality encompassing our world, but they have conceived this reality in different ways, for example:
— A personal being (as in the great monotheistic religions).
— A series of beings (as in the polytheism of Hinduism).
— Or no ‘’being’’ at all (as in Buddhism).
This common religious impulse naturally is expressed in worship, which also takes many different forms. In addition, some religions, like Islam, regard a particular location as sacred, while others, like Buddhism, consider the whole world we experience a passing illusion.
The primary external benefit of a correct understanding of others’ religious beliefs and practices is that it counteracts errors, distortions, stereotypes and oversimplifications.
For example, there is far more to Confucianism than pithy sayings in fortune cookies. And Hindu belief in reincarnation should not be interpreted as a passive acceptance of one’s fate. India’s nonviolent resistance to British colonialism showed that. Rather it is a way of seeking spiritual perfection through continuous purification—a goal shared in other ways by Christians.
There are two reasons why an accurate understanding of others is important. In today’s wired world, opinions freely and easily are made available without any obvious control or critique. In preparing this article, I entered “comparative religion” in a search engine on the Internet and received more than 16 million possible responses. Obviously I did not check them all out, but the sheer number indicates the importance of having accurate information about others’ beliefs.
A second external benefit of comparative religion is that accurately knowing another religion leads to better relations with members of that religion. This in turn can foster cooperation in finding common solutions to common problems, such as helping immigrants from Asian or African countries make the transition to a new nation while preserving their religious practices.
Better personal relationships also can help to prevent a repetition of the persecutions and wars that have been carried out in religion’s name, usually fueled by ignorance or fear. Probably few Christians had any real understanding of Islam at the time of the Crusades, but many Christians today, aware of terrorist attacks by Islamic extremists, may be no better informed. Is it really the teaching of Islam that all infidels should be killed? Who qualifies as an infidel?
In addition to these external benefits of the study of comparative religion, there are internal benefits—effects on individual believers.
Studying another religion can clarify my own belief and my understanding of it. The notion of immortality in Judaism provides a context for thinking through my understanding of personal immortality in Christianity. The emphasis on moral conduct and the golden rule in Confucianism echo norms in the Christian tradition and remind me that Christianity is a way of life.
Studying another religion can strengthen my own belief and convictions. The importance and predominance of religious narratives in Hinduism in a certain way confirms my appreciation for the stories of the Bible. The extreme respect for nature found in Native-American religion relates closely to my own belief that God is present in all creation.
Studying another religion sometimes serves to challenge my religious understanding and practice, especially regarding morality and the more demanding aspects of my faith. The doctrine of fate and the corresponding caste system of Hinduism, as well as the sharp dualism of Zoroastrianism, challenge me to examine my understanding of good and evil in the world. Likewise, the path of withdrawal and contemplation in Taoism confronts my impulse toward activism and the assumption that I know how to make the world better.
Studying another religion can provide insights and motivation that I might not have had otherwise. The Hindu quest for discerning the ultimate truth and the Buddhist goal of enlightenment affirm the value of reflection, study and learning. The zeal of Muslims for spreading their religion may motivate me to engage in more active evangelization.
When Vatican Council II discussed the church’s relation to non-Christian religions, it did not explicitly mention the benefits that a comparative study of religion offers, but it did urge its “sons and daughters to enter with prudence and charity into discussion and collaboration with members of other religions’’ (Declaration on Non-Christian Religions, No. 2). The benefits will follow once the study begins.

Father Kinast is director of the Center for Theological Reflection in Prairie Village, Kansas.

Locating interreligious dialogue in ordinary life

Tue, 17 Oct 2006 10:36:40 -0500

By Dan Luby (CNS)

For most Catholics “interreligious dialogue,” when we hear of it at all, conjures up images of exotically dressed religious leaders convening in foreign capitals for esoteric discussions. But since Vatican Council II in the 1960s, the Catholic Church has advocated interreligious dialogue, and not just among high-ranking officials.
Today, knowledge of other religions is important for Catholics. In a shrinking world marked by unprecedented levels of religious pluralism and conflict, the respectful mutuality the church calls for no longer is considered “optional.”

What can ordinary Catholics do to promote interreligious dialogue? Here are some simple but significant possibilities.

The first is active promotion of systematic, lifelong formation in the Catholic tradition. When a Hindu colleague at work, Muslim neighbors at a homeowners meeting or Jewish friends at the PTA social ask Catholics about their faith, true dialogue only happens if both parties speak from a solid base of knowledge and experience. Catholics need to be familiar with Catholic doctrine and practice—one reason adult catechesis is so important nowadays.

A second way to foster interreligious exchange is by learning what we can about what others believe and how they live their beliefs. Teams for the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults, teachers in Catholic schools, pastors, parish staffs, catechists, sacramental preparation ministers—all benefit from learning the core teachings and customs of their non-Christian neighbors.

Because of its unique bond with Christianity, pride of place is given to Judaism, but understanding our world also means learning about other major religions. Formal classes, tours of each other’s houses of worship and so on can all help to affirm our common bonds, while also recognizing and honoring our differences.

A third way to improve understanding is to undertake shared projects that better the human condition. Responding to community needs — disaster relief, improved police protection, better enforcement of housing codes, etc.—can invite conversation, not only on practical strategic issues, but on the religious values that motivate such efforts and that offer common ground for cooperation.

Still another way to strengthen religious understanding lies in actual person-to-person dialogue. Until we have a face to connect with a religious tradition and before sharing personal stories that embody our beliefs, our dialogue remains too impersonal to make a difference in our attitudes.

Finally, in the call to interreligious dialogue there is an invitation to grow in Christ. For it can be successful only with the right attitudes of heart: respect for others, openness to the truth, confidence in one’s own tradition and humility in the face of the mystery of God’s presence in Christ.

Luby is director of the Division of Christian Formation in the
Diocese of Fort Worth, Texas.

Celebrating the Eucharist in many cultures

Wed, 27 Sep 2006 08:55:10 -0500

By Jim Schellman (CNS)
Not so long ago it was common to hear Roman Catholics speak of the comfort they found in the familiar celebration of the Mass, whether they experienced it in Portland or Paris. The Latin texts and the priest’s carefully prescribed movements and gestures created the effect of the predictable, wherever Catholics found themselves.
Many of my friends now make a similar observation about the Mass, and this despite its being celebrated in a large variety of languages around the globe. Often they are surprised by Mass in another cultural setting and express feelings of being fairly at ease.
Although the language may be unfamiliar, the gestures and movement of both priest and people nonetheless seem familiar enough for people to feel at home. The ritual structure of the Mass is perhaps even more apparent now that a variety of languages may be used!
We are at the beginning of the “inculturation” of the Mass and all of the church’s liturgy set in motion by the overwhelming approval of the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy by the world’s bishops at the Second Vatican Council. The reality of inculturation was addressed in the liturgy constitution in its great opening to further use of living languages in the liturgy and in its final several paragraphs dealing with degrees of “adaptation” of the liturgy.
In the church’s vision, the process of inculturation is one of “earthing” the Gospel in the cultures of particular peoples throughout the world. This “earthing” gives the Gospel deep and authentic roots in a culture — in the culture’s distinctive ways of conceptualizing, expressing, living and celebrating its experience of the mystery of life and its relationship to the divine.
Liturgical expression is an intrinsic part of this process.
Inculturation is nothing new to Catholic tradition. Centuries of inculturation of the Mass began with the spread of the faith from the early Jewish-Christian community to the gentiles and the change of the language of worship from Hebrew to Greek. This was followed several centuries later by transition to Latin as a result of the acceptance of Christianity in the Roman Empire.
A third “moment” of inculturation occurred when this largely Mediterranean religious experience made its way into the many parts of Europe and its disparate cultures.
Our present time can be seen as the next great moment of inculturation. The faith experience of the preceding centuries is being authentically “earthed” anew in cultures where it already has a long history and newly earthed in other major cultures of the world.
Celebration of the Mass in our own languages is a first step in the present experience of inculturation. What follows from this is evident in eucharistic assemblies throughout the world. Church buildings are erected that grow out of local architectural materials and designs, from thatched and open-sided structures to soaring modern sheaths of glass and reinforced concrete. Sacred objects for use at worship follow designs and use materials at once recognizable as local and worthy of their special use.
People take part in worship with movements and gestures that embody reverent and joyful assembling in their cultures. This can mean graceful swaying and stepping for some, high-pitched ululation for others, reverent raising of the hands for still others. Some will sit on the floor with crossed ankles, others in chairs or pews. Some will sing on and on, others will sing three or four verses of a hymn. Some will experience preaching of an hour (and would be disappointed if it were less), others will get the expected 15 to 20 minutes that their culture allots for public address.
Just consider how the celebration of the Mass will vary within one diocese in the United States: from the full-throated and deeply embodied two- to three-hour worship of an African-American parish to the well-sung and engaged (but no more than an hour!) worship of a largely white parish; from the colorful and deeply familial worship of immigrant Latino/Hispanic or African communities to the fully sung and modulated celebration in a Vietnamese community.
Parishes of mixed ethnic groups have a special responsibility to ensure that the celebration of Mass is sufficiently inculturated and reflective of their people. The Sunday Mass will usually need to be an occasion that draws them together. Are the languages present at Sunday Mass, with printed translations available so all can understand? Do those serving in the various liturgical ministries reflect the different ethnic groups and indeed the variety of ages in the assembly? Is liturgical music planned that engages all? Is planning for the liturgical seasons done with sensitivity to the rich possibilities that the different cultural traditions bring to the parish as a whole?
With attention to these kinds of considerations we join the great stream of our ancestors in faith who faithfully have inculturated and passed on to us the Catholic faith that lives in the words, gestures, worship and lives of God’s people in each generation.

Schellman is executive director of the North American Forum on the Catechumenate, www.naforum.org.

Doing our part really matters at Mass

Mon, 11 Sep 2006 14:41:20 -0500

By Father Lawrence E. Mick (CNS)
“I don't get anything out of Mass. It's so boring!”
The voice was that of a teenager who came to Mass regularly with her parents. I struggled to find an adequate response.
I began by trying to help her understand that the Mass is not a form of entertainment. It is not something we sit and watch, hoping it will give us enjoyment or even inspiration. It is something we all are called to do together. We make the Mass happen, and together we make it powerful and inspiring or boring and flat.
I suspect that many Catholics long past the teen years have a similar misconception about the Mass. We live in an entertainment culture. I’ve even heard some Catholics speak of the assembly at Mass as “the audience.”
The only real audience at Mass, properly speaking, is God. All the rest of us are actors in the liturgy. United as one body in Christ, we are charged with giving proper praise and thanks to God.
The Mass can only be what it is supposed to be if we all do our part.
For example, all who gather are called to make an effort to form a true assembly, welcoming all around them and forming one body of Christ ready for worship.
When the liturgy begins, all of us join our voices to praise God in word and song.
Each of us must try during the proclamation of the readings to listen attentively and take the word of God to heart. We respond to that word not only with the psalm, the Creed and the general intercessions at Mass, but through the way we live all week.
As the gifts are prepared at the altar, we all are called to prepare our minds and hearts so that we are ready to enter into the great Eucharistic Prayer that follows. It is a prayer we all offer, adding our responses to the presider’s proclamation. As the General Instruction of the Roman Missal says, “The entire congregation of the faithful should join itself with Christ in confessing the great deeds of God and in the offering of sacrifice.”
At Communion, we are called to open our hearts to the Lord and one another, entering into a deep communion of love that reinforces our identity as one body in Christ. Then we are sent forth on mission to carry on Christ’s work in our world.
The Eucharist is not something we passively “attend.” It is a great work of praise that we all are called to offer together. When we do that, it is never boring!

Father Mick, a priest of the Archdiocese of Cincinnati, Ohio, is a free-lance writer

What liturgy

Thu, 31 Aug 2006 09:42:55 -0500

By Father Lawrence E. Mick (CNS)
Have you ever watched a group of people square-dancing?
Years ago I was pastor of a small country parish where it was popular to square-dance. I was always fascinated by the ability of a large number of people to move so rapidly in such complex patterns without running into each other!
Occasionally, some parishioners would urge me to get out on the floor with them. My basic shyness and lack of dancing ability kept that from happening, however. To join in those dances, I first would need to learn the elements of the dance and how they go together. Since I didn’t know how to “shoot the star” or “box the gnat,” I would have caused a major train wreck on the dance floor.
Becoming part of that dance requires knowledge and practice.
It’s a bit like that with liturgy. It, like the square dance, is composed of a variety of elements and actions, and like the square dance it requires some knowledge and practice to enter into it properly.
Of course, liturgy, like the square dance, is not really a spectator activity. It is the action of the whole community of faith gathered together, and it requires participation by every member of the community to be all it should be.
Our liturgy is a form of ritual activity, and these rituals involve the use of symbols. Symbols are human actions that express and communicate meaning on many levels at once.
In the Eucharist, for example, we share a meal of bread and wine. The meal is the basic human symbol Jesus chose for this sacrament.
In itself, a meal speaks of nourishment and sustenance. It also expresses unity or communion with all who share the meal with us; we don’t normally sit down to dinner with our enemies.
The elements of the meal also carry meaning. We speak of bread as the staff of life. Wine suggests a sense of festivity.
Moreover, these elements have been invested with deeper meanings. The bread of the Eucharist recalls the bread of the Jewish Passover, as well as the manna in the desert. The cup of wine was a cup of blessing in Jewish meals.
When Jesus calls the bread at the Last Supper his body and names the wine as the blood of the covenant, yet another level of meaning is attached to these symbolic elements. The blood, for example, recalls the blood sprinkled on the altar and the people in ancient times as a sign of the covenant between God and the chosen people.
Much more could be said about this sacramental meal and its symbols, but even that brief look suggests both the richness of our liturgical symbols and the need for each of us to deepen our understanding of them.
Other symbols we often use in liturgy include bathing in water, pouring or sprinkling with water, anointing with oil, imposition of hands as a sign of blessing and conferral of divine power. Each of these rich symbols carries multiple levels of meaning.
It is also important to remember how the assembly of believers itself is a symbol. Together we form Christ’s body in the world.
In union with Christ, our head, we offer our praise and thanks to God. The better we understand the meaning of the symbols we use and/or the actions we perform, the more richly we will be blessed by our sharing in the liturgy.

Father Mick is a priest of the Archdiocese of Cincinnati, Ohio, and a free-lance writer.

God: What kind of Creator?

Mon, 07 Aug 2006 15:13:58 -0500

By Pat Wargocki (CNS)
Can one believe that God is the Creator of the universe and also accept theories of evolution?
According to Jesuit Father George V. Coyne, the answer is a resounding “yes.” He believes that science reflects God’s infinite purpose, and so they’re not at odds.
Father Coyne has a keen perspective on both worlds. He is a religious man, one who has been a Jesuit since age 18. He is also a scientist at the Vatican Observatory, where he has been director since 1978.
As director, he divides his time between the Vatican Observatory outside Rome and the Steward Observatory, its research center at the University of Arizona in Tucson where he is an adjunct professor in the astronomy department.
In a paper published in August 2005, Father Coyne wrote: “The murky waters of the rapport between the church and science never seem to clear. Despite the best efforts of John Paul II and of Benedict XVI, when he was Cardinal Ratzinger, the struggle still goes on to dispel myths, mistakes and misunderstandings.”
Father Coyne called attention to “the epoch-making declaration of John Paul II in 1996 to the Pontifical Academy of Sciences in which he declared that evolution is no longer a mere hypothesis and then proceeded to draw reasonable implications for religious belief from that conclusion.”
Another attempt at easing the divisions between church and science occurred when the International Theological Commission, under the presidency of then-Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger less than a year before he was elected to the papacy, issued a lengthy statement in which it saw no incompatibility between God’s providential plan for creation and the results of truly contingent evolutionary processes in nature.
There appears to exist a nagging fear among some that a universe which has been evolving for billions of years escapes God’s dominion, Father Coyne explained. He said, “For someone to deny the best of today’s science on religious grounds is to live in that groundless fear.”
When Father Coyne discusses these issues, he often speaks of “fertility” or “opportunity” in the universe. He believes the universe is prolific in offering the opportunity for the success of both chance and necessary processes. “For the religious believer,” says Father Coyne, “modern science reveals a God who made a universe that has within it a certain dynamism and thus participates in the very creativity of God.”
Father Coyne feels that Judaic-Christian faith is radically creationist, but in a totally different sense that the term often is used today among those whose interpret Genesis literally. It is rooted in a belief that “everything depends upon God, or better, all is a gift from God. ... If one believes in God’s loving relationship with his creation, and especially with the human beings made in his image and likeness, and if one also respects modern science, then there are marvelous opportunities to renew one’s faith in God’s relationship to his creation.”
Father Coyne believes it may be helpful to think of God along the lines of a loving parent who is working with the universe and to think of the universe as having a certain vitality of its own, something like a child does. Thus, God in his infinite freedom continuously creates a world which reflects that freedom at all levels of the evolutionary process.
God, as a loving parent, “lets the world be what it will be in its continuous evolution”; God “allows, participates and loves,” Father Coyne suggests.

Wargocki is a freelance writer
in Tucson, Arizona

Early church fathers: Speaking to modern minds and hearts

Fri, 28 Jul 2006 15:33:22 -0500

By Dolores R. Leckey (CNS)
Some years ago I was present at a weekday Mass where the priest chose to speak about the saint of the day instead of the Scriptures. The saint was Polycarp, one of the early fathers of the church. He was a much beloved bishop of the first-century, someone I’d never heard of until that homily.
I learned that Polycarp, advanced in age, was accused of atheism by the citizens of the town where he was residing, and subsequently was arrested by the Roman authorities. The atheism charge grew out of the fact that he did not worship the Roman gods.
This old and wise man met his captors with peace and equanimity, and when they urged him to renounce Christ—with the implication that everything could then go back to “normal”—Polycarp gently refused. He said, “How can I deny him who has never done me any harm?”
This answer revealed to me a person who knew and loved Christ. I think about his words frequently, sometimes repeating them like a mantra. They are a reminder that Christ has never done me any harm.
Some might suspect that reading the works of the early church fathers is an acquired taste. Why would a 21st-century man or woman want to delve into ancient history and thought? Precisely because it is ancient.
The church fathers give Christians (and others) doorways into the decisive centuries that followed the apostolic age. We can see the thought of the ancient church taking shape in the minds of her bishops and theologians, sometimes expressing the results of the great doctrinal controversies of their age in language that truly can be called literary.
Sometimes I wonder, though, if there were women in the ancient church who combined intellect and the spiritual to the benefit of all. If so, did they write anything? We do know there were desert mothers as well as fathers. Benedicta Ward has chronicled them for us. But mothers of the church?
What was the time period of the fathers of the church? Most scholars of the church fathers identify two periods: pre-Nicene (referencing the Council of Nicea in 325) and post-Nicene.
Writers of the earlier period sometimes are called “apostolic fathers” because they lived and taught at the end of the apostolic age. One was Polycarp. Some others are Clement of Rome, Ignatius of Antioch and Justin Martyr, who taught in Ephesus.
The post-Nicene period can claim a large literary output, and among those contributing to that are: Athanasius and Didymus from Alexandria, Egypt; John Chrysostom and Theodoret from Antioch, near the Holy Land; and from Palestine, Eusebius of Caesarea and Cyril of Jerusalem. Other post-Nicene luminaries include Gregory of Nyssa and Gregory of Nazantius, John Cassian and Prosper of Aquitaine, a layman.
The intellectual acumen of the fathers was a distinguishing characteristic, but they were also marked by something else, something particularly appealing to modern Christians. The renowned scholar of the church fathers, Jesuit Father Walter Burghardt, writing in America magazine (March 20, 2006), said he was attracted to these ancient theologians because their theology was itself a spirituality.
With these ancient writers one meets not only the mind of the theologian but the heart of the Christian person. That is certainly what drew me into an appreciation of Polycarp of Smyrna.
Ignatius of Antioch, bishop, theologian and martyr, is an interesting figure from the end of the apostolic age. He is known for his letters, which are filled with teaching about the need to practice charity and about the value of silence in the life of a Christian. In particular, he urged bishops to practice silence, which would help them to listen deeply to the Word of God within and to the needs of their people.
Justin Martyr, who was not a bishop, stands out in this period before the Council of Nicea for his keen mind. Born in Samaria, he was of Greek lineage and received a classical Greek education. His mind was ever questioning and searching. According to the New Edition of Butler’s Lives of the Saints, Justin wrote this of himself: “I imagined myself a wise man. So great was my folly that I fully expected immediately to gaze upon God.”
Justin found the answers to his questions when he perceived a continuity between Platonism and Christianity. The distinctive feature of his thought was his conception that there was a divine plan in history in which the Hebrew Scriptures and the highest aspirations of the Greeks were joined to form the great river of Christianity. Although a prolific writer, only two of his works survive: Apologies and Dialogue with Trypho.
Father Burghardt’s reminder that the church fathers were teachers of spiritual realities is very appealing. But so is the realization that they never abandoned the life of the mind in their spiritual searching. There’s a lesson here for contemporary Christians.

Leckey is a senior fellow at Woodstock Theological Center, Georgetown University.

A family matter called ressourcement

Fri, 07 Jul 2006 14:57:40 -0500

By William M. Wright IV (CNS)
I am the fourth generation in a line of William Madison Wrights. Besides having the same name, we all have shared a common passion and love: baseball.
Not too long ago, my father, William III, showed me a press clipping written shortly after the 1957 death of his grandfather, William I. The article, by the local small-town sportswriter, praised the hitting abilities of my great-grandfather, who had played semi-pro baseball in the area.
I never knew my great-grandfather personally. Yet, by reading this brief article, I knew something more of what it was to be the fourth in a line of Bill Wrights. After all, I am his descendant, share his name, share his passion for baseball.
I share this anecdote to illustrate something about a trend in 20th-century Catholic theology called ressourcement.
Around the 1930s, pockets of Catholic theologians in Western Europe were developing a style of theological thinking with which the church could speak to the modern world’s concerns and problems. At this time, much of Catholic theology was shaped significantly by neo-Scholasticism, a kind of theological thinking grounded in a particular way of interpreting the writings of Saint Thomas Aquinas.
Departing somewhat from this style of theology, theologians such as Fathers Louis Bouyer, Yves Congar, Romano Guardini, Henri de Lubac and Hans Urs von Balthasar thought that an effective way for the church to speak to the modern world was to appropriate the rich resources of the church’s tradition (ressource is the French word for “resource,” and hence ressourcement).
Drawing on the spiritual and theological wisdom in the best of the church’s tradition involved a fresh reading of the church fathers and attention to their liturgical, spiritual and biblical sensibilities.
This fondness for the writings of the great theologians and saints in the Catholic tradition was not a nostalgic retreat into the past, a “Wow, wasn’t it so great way back when.” On the contrary, ressourcement theology was quite concerned with the church’s voice and identity in the present.
The church forms a communion, which binds Christians together with Christ and with each other over the centuries. By looking at the tradition and appropriating its riches, the church would come to possess a strong, invigorated sense of her message and identity, and would be equipped powerfully to proclaim the Gospel to the modern world.
Ressourcement theology proved influential for the church’s direction in the second half of the 20th century and for the Second Vatican Council.
Pope Benedict XVI, who has been influenced by the ressourcement appropriation of great theologians in the tradition, placed the image of a seashell on his coat of arms. The seashell is an allusion to a writing by Saint Augustine, the great fifth-century doctor of the church, whose theology has been especially important for Pope Benedict.
One can think about ressourcement theology, then, like family history and identity.
When I read that press clipping about my great-grandfather, I knew something more about who I was as a baseball-loving member of this family with the name William Madison Wright.
In a similar way, the church over the generations makes up a communion, a family, with God as our Father and with Christians, past and present, as brothers and sisters. By listening to the words of an older brother like Saint Augustine and a sister like Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, we can know something of what it is to be a member of this big Catholic family, which spans the generations.

Wright is an assistant professor of theology at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

The kind of community the family is

Thu, 15 Jun 2006 11:10:57 -0500

By H. Richard McCord (CNS)
It must have been a touching moment. Pope Benedict XVI was about to baptize 10 babies in January 2006. He laid aside the prepared text of his homily and spoke spontaneously to the assembled families about the sacrament. He said:
“Through baptism each child is inserted into a gathering of friends... . This family of God ... will always accompany him, even on days of suffering and in life’s dark nights. It will give him friendship, it will give him life. And these totally trustworthy companions will never disappear.”
The pope’s words point to an important belief: To enter the church is to be received into a loving community, welcomed into a family. The Second Vatican Council called the church “a communion of life, love and truth.”

When a couple divorces

Fri, 02 Jun 2006 08:24:30 -0500

By Father John W. Crossin, osfs (CNS)
Grief is deeply emotional. I have seen these emotions on the faces of friends and acquaintances who are divorced.
Grief can express itself in anger, or depression, or withdrawal. In grief, we may do things we later regard as a little bit “crazy.” Grieving over a friendship lost can last for years. Divorce can lead to extended grief.
Divorce severs a relationship or, in the case of shared-child custody, reduces the relationship to a more superficial level. Divorce also affects all surrounding relationships, including a person’s relationship with the church.

Steps parents take to turn things around at home

Mon, 22 May 2006 11:03:24 -0500

By Christopher Carstens (CNS)
When I was a child, my buddies and I absolutely believed that only the fire chief could drive a red car legally.
There were other things we took for granted, as if they were law. When you came home from school your mother was waiting with a snack, followed by firm instructions to go outside and play until dinnertime. You did not have “play dates,” you walked over to your friend’s house or just met in the neighborhood.
You did not have supervised practice for a team, you just got together with a ball and a bat. We didn’t wear uniforms or get trophies.
I didn’t know anybody whose parents were divorced until I went to high school. Dads came home around 5:30, and families sat down together at the dinner table.

The support families seek in the church

Mon, 15 May 2006 12:53:56 -0500

By Mary Jo Pedersen (CNS)
Sue Collins was dying of cancer. Her two children and husband were struggling to accept her certain death while trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy: balancing school activities, sports and work.
What the family desperately needed were meals, rides, housecleaning, baby-sitting and a community to walk with them in the darkest days. Their parish church provided that plus prayerful support during the entire crisis.
John and Jean are raising three children in a suburban neighborhood. They are worried about the effects on their children of sexually explicit music and movies, and about glorifications of violence on television.

Bringing a tradition of balance and simplicity to our world

Fri, 05 May 2006 13:48:19 -0500

By Father Dale Launderville, osb (CNS)
The church’s voice long has encouraged moderation and restraint, and a balanced perspective. And in a world plagued by extremes of many kinds, the church reminds us to be faithful to the basics of our faith: God created and redeems us. We cannot pretend to save ourselves by the excessive works of our own hands.
The church’s insights in this regard are among the ways it contributes to the world today, with its many problems and challenges.
By creating us from the soil (Genesis 2:7), God fashioned us as beings who are dependent on the environment around us. When we Christians rise from the dead, we will experience a bodily resurrection—a stunning transformation that in some way is continuous with our earthly life in the body.

A “new ‘creativity’ in charity”

Thu, 20 Apr 2006 10:01:07 -0500

By Kenneth R. Himes, ofm (CNS)
One hallmark of Christianity is a concern for the poor and the centrality of charity as a virtue.
From the church’s earliest days, as recorded in the Acts of the Apostles, down to the modern era, as seen in the works of Catholic Charities and Catholic Relief Services, there has been a clear, strong acknowledgment that the church is a community of sharing, a body of believers committed to caring for the poor.
Thus, it was interesting when Pope John Paul II called for “a new ‘creativity’ in charity.” The context of his remark was the close of Jubilee 2000 when he wrote “At the Beginning of the New Millennium” (Novo Millennio Inuente), an apostolic letter in which he reflected upon the events and experiences of that momentous year.