to superstitions that have nothing to do with pure Catholicism; Ian, if he could articulate his thought, would say that both are stuck in irrelevant sidelines.
Jesus gives us a fairly hefty clue to our dilemma:
Go and learn the meaning of the words: I want mercy and not sacrifice. Indeed, I have come to call the righteous, not sinners.
Matthew 9:13
I’m sorry, I’ll read that again:
Go and learn the meaning of the words: I want mercy and not sacrifice. Indeed, I have come to call not the righteous, but sinners.
It is surely possible to assume that being Catholic is something to do with answering that call. My three acquaintances would each acknowledge that. Every catholic, or Catholic, is motivated by the call of Christ to follow him, or else they are not Catholic, or even catholic, at all. This does not mean that the call leads only into the Roman Catholic Church, and that people outside are not called, or do not respond fully to that call. Nor is it to say that, if the ‘call’ is there, it does not matter about how you act or think or what you believe, and certainly not whether you belong to any particular ‘visible’ church. Such questions lie ahead of us.
But Jesus’ words imply a set of priorities. The context of the saying is important. He has been asked by the Pharisees why he eats with ‘tax collectors and sinners’. Tax collectors were in the employ of the occupying Romans, and thus doubly unpopular as traitors to their nation and its religion. Pharisees aimed to keep the Law of Moses and the various Jewish traditions in their entirety. A sinner was, in the view of the Pharisees, anybody who was not a Pharisee. There are plenty of sinners around today, and also no lack of Pharisees. Which are you? Or are you a bit of both?
Here is a simple and relatively harmless example, but a surprisingly common one. A lady comes to confession. She doesn’t have much to mention, a few cross words and the like. But she failed to go to Mass for three Sundays in a row. She knows this is so bad, she thinks it is a mortal sin. It is tempting to comfort her: ‘Lots of people don’t go to Mass at all for years, most people miss from time to time.’ But that would be wrong because, for her, this clearly matters. So, I ask why she stayed away, and am shocked to the core by her answer. I am shocked because it reveals a far greater, more deadly fault. She missed Mass because she was confined to bed by influenza. Maybe one should laugh, tell her not to be so silly; how can you be expected to go to Mass if you are ill? After all, the sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath.
But that is the greater fault, and I stand indicted, along with all of you and the whole Church. This simple, obvious, common-sense message that we are only expected to attend Sunday Mass if it is physically and morally possible has been obscured. How? And why? The answer is manifold.
A ‘liberal’ might say that the Church has become full of legalistic misunderstandings. Following church rules is invested with a kind of magic: do this, and you will be all right. Jesus has some tough things to say about people who rely on external observances, and about those teachers who lay heavy burdens on the poor in spirit. It is only now, one might say, after the Second Vatican Council, that we are recovering the real intentions of Christ, losing the sterile additions, superstitions and clericalism of the Middle Ages and Counter-Reformation, and so coming to a true freedom. The hierarchy resists this, at the price of making old ladies think they will go to hell if they have the flu, and thus miss Mass.
That is an absurd overstatement, but you might know Catholics who would hold it. Nor is the position far off stating the fears of ‘conservatives’ who, after the Second Vatican Council, have seen so much bewildering change. One old priest told me that he thought John Paul II has done a fine job of teaching, that the task of the next Pope will be to enforce that teaching. ‘Enforce’ is a word of the ‘bad old days’ for some, and for others a hope of the future.
One hope I have for this book is that you as the reader will be able to see the rules and practices in context, and in proportion. If that sounds a bit too ‘liberal’ to you, then reflect that it is often easier to follow instructions when you know what they mean. So let’s start with a basic statement of what the Church is for, and from an impeccable source:
Christ…united himself with each person. The Church therefore sees its fundamental task in enabling that union to be brought about and renewed continually. The Church wishes to serve this single end: that each person may be able to find Christ, in order that Christ may walk with each person the path of life, with the power of the truth about humanity and the world that is contained in the mystery of the Incarnation and the Redemption and with the power of the love that is radiated by that truth.
John Paul II, Redemptor Hominis. 13
A bargain
‘That Christ may walk with each person the path of life.’ Let’s take this, and this alone, as a starting point for reflection and, leaving issues and worries aside, see what God has to say to us in it. We might find that some problems begin to look different. But there is a condition for reading on. If you agree, then let’s go ahead.
Let go of what you know, especially if you are a conservative or a liberal who has all the answers. If, like the rest of us, you are merely confused or curious, take a risk. Come to God, the Father revealed in Christ, with hands empty of all but fears and loves. He will grant a context. There is absolutely no point examining God as though he is a laboratory specimen. If you wish to hear his word, you have to be prepared for the consequences. And, if you do not wish to be a Pharisee, let us begin as sinners.
Let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet and your face is beautiful.
Song of Songs 2:14
Not long ago, my father moved into a new house, a converted steading in a rather remote Scottish valley. On holiday, I helped him with some of the unpacking and decorating. The key task was to get the kitchen done, so that we could eat. In a very short time, surprisingly short, I learnt how to assemble kitchen units from flat packs. The next lesson was how to take them apart again. It was plain to me that these things were designed by warped minds, inventing devious ways of joining bits of chipboard together, and delighting in the failure of ordinary rational people to work out what had gone wrong when there were not enough bolts and screws.
Two corner units later, the truth dawned that all the bits were shaped and arranged so as to make things easy. What had looked like a confusing array of parts fell naturally into an intelligible whole if one simply followed the instructions provided. For example, the odd L-shaped bolts, far from being menacing, took away the need to make mortice joints in the wood. They meant that even I, with no experience or expertise, could assemble the units, given time, patience and a willingness to imitate the diagrams. It was a mistake even to put the pictures into words: ‘put all the L-shaped bolts into the 8mm round holes at the top and bottom corners of the inside faces of the …’ The description lost clarity, added confusion. You just made the bits and pieces look like the picture provided.
It is this easy to be a Christian, to resolve any issue of faith or of practice. The hard part is learning to do it the easy way. How often, for example, have you heard or read the following?
Come to me all you who labour and are overburdened, and I will give you rest. Shoulder my yoke and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. Yes, my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.
Matthew 11:28
If we could do that, there would be no problems we could not face. The trouble is that we tend to flounder around with partial ideas, half concepts, fears and anxieties, like somebody trying to assemble a kitchen unit who does not know what the different parts are for. The claim of the