The slogan came about when Bob Linear, who was the chairmen of the Texas Highway Commission, asked why they were increasing the budget for litter removal instead of working to reduce litter. Spence’s company pitched the slogan (which, due to its macho tone, was somewhat controversial) to the Highway Commission as part of a broad marketing strategy; litter rates have since gone down in Texas and the slogan has become a culture icon.

According to Spence, the reason the slogan struck such a chord (beyond stereotypical Texas elitism) is that it shifted the conversation. As Spence put it in the interview, instead of trying to sell Texans on changing their behavior the slogan gave them something positive to focus on: “We got out of the litter business and got into the pride business.”

I think one of the reasons some church initiatives fail is because we aren’t clear what business we’re in. Are we sponsoring a program for our own ends, or because we believe we have something worthwhile to offer people? Are we giving them “a positive option?” For instance, if we’re engaging in evangelization just to put people in the pews, we’re going to fail because we aren’t giving people a reason to come, we’re just trying to increase attendance (either for the prestige of our parish or to increase the weekly offering). Why would people want to join an organization that only wants them to fulfill a quota?

Next: What is the business of catechesis?

Photo by Kaleb Fulgham / flickrCC

Rev. Msgr. Carl Kemme, our diocesan administrator, delivered the homily and I have to say: it probably ranks in the top five homilies I have ever heard and is the most moving reflection on the priesthood I can remember. Here’s a short sound bite:

To my brother priests in this presbyterate I want and need to invite something very important from us. These men to be ordained are a gift to us, gifts not to be taken for granted, but cherished and honored. It behooves us to offer them and those who come after them, in union with our bishop and his successors, a presbyterate that is healthy, supportive and joyful. To that end, I would humbly submit that we have work to do. We cannot afford to allow them or any of us, to be subject to the destructive forces strong in our world today, which have gripped far too many priests in our church, the evil that is isolation, the inclination to cynicism, or the abandonment of the hopes and dreams of the Church for us, in exchange for spiritual apathy and moral indifference. Rather, with courage and love we must invite them and ourselves to stand firm in the faith, to unite in a stronger bond of prayerful and priestly fraternity and to together become saints for nothing less is expected of us as priests after the mind and heart of the Good Shepherd.

My estimable friend Fr. Daren Zehnle has the complete homily posted on his blog. It is definitely worth the read.

Why go? If it is to find a safer haven, a less corrupt Church, then I think that you will be disappointed. I too long for more transparent government, more open debate, but the Church’s secrecy is understandable, and sometimes necessary. To understand is not always to condone, but necessary if we are to act justly.

Why stay? I must lay my cards on the table; even if the Church were obviously worse than other Churches, I still would not go. I am not a Catholic because our Church is the best, or even because I like Catholicism. I do love much about my Church but there are aspects of it which I dislike. I am not a Catholic because of a consumer option for an ecclesiastical Waitrose rather than Tesco, but because I believe that it embodies something which is essential to the Christian witness to the Resurrection, visible unity.

When Jesus died, his community fell apart. He had been betrayed, denied, and most of his disciples fled. It was chiefly the women who accompanied him to the end. On Easter Day, he appeared to the disciples. This was more than the physical resuscitation of a dead corpse.

In him God triumphed over all that destroys community: sin, cowardice, lies, misunderstanding, suffering and death. The Resurrection was made visible to the world in the astonishing sight of a community reborn. These cowards and deniers were gathered together again. They were not a reputable bunch, and shamefaced at what they had done, but once again they were one. The unity of the Church is a sign that all the forces that fragment and scatter are defeated in Christ.

Really: go read the whole thing.

A couple weeks ago a small group of our diocesan directors met to begin envisioning what that catechetical process will look like. During the course of the conversation, one thing became clear: in order to prepare people to pray the new translation in a meaningful, intelligible way, we need to be able to articulate why the Church is changing the words of the Eucharistic liturgy in a way they can understand and accept.

In other words, we need to find the marketable message for the changes.

I won’t claim that we came up with all the answers, but I think one of the priests at the table got us started the right path. He noted that, during the liturgical reforms following the Second Vatican Council, the message was that the laity will no longer be passive observers but will be called to “full, active participation” in the liturgy. For forty years this has been the mantra of liturgical catechesis, for better or worse. It was, in a sense, the “marketable message” on liturgy following the council.

He contrasted this with the new missal and translation which have shifted attention from the action of the congregation back to the object of worship: Jesus Christ. Without diminishing the importance of the council’s reforms or denigrating the progress made in liturgical theology, the heightened language of the new translation pulls us out of the mundane and reminds us that while we participate in the liturgy, the liturgy is not about us.

With that in mind, a useful way to enter a wider conversation about the new missal — and a way to point towards a “marketable message” — may be to pose the following three questions:

1. Who calls us to participate in the liturgy?
2. Why do we participate in the liturgy?
3. How then do we participate in the liturgy?

This series of questions begins with the invitation to worship, points to the object of our worship, and then asks if the manner of our worships honors that end. I’m not completely satisfied with the wording (I’m open to suggestions!) and obviously not everyone will agree on the answers to these questions — especially the third! But they at least focus the conversation in a constructive manner that can lead to further exploration about our theology of liturgy, why we have a shared liturgical practice in the Church, and why the changes make sense within that context.

And without resorting to, “Because the Vatican says so!”

Perhaps most notably, and counter to the prevailing narrative, he points out that

there’s a tendency in some circles to see evangelical Catholicism, with its strong emphasis on hierarchical authority and traditional doctrine, as a “top-down” project intended to bolster the sagging power of the clerical caste. No doubt, such political calculations can be part of the picture, but sociologists such as Roy confirm that the evangelical wave has much deeper roots in widespread social forces, and is thus a “bottom-up” force too. The hunger for a “thick” sense of Catholic distinctiveness among some Catholic young people these days, basically unsolicited by anyone in authority (and at times seen by church authorities with ambivalence), makes the point.

I’m surprised that this would surprise anyone. While I know a number of younger priests who fit the definition of “evangelical Catholic,” I see them as largely having arisen from the movement as opposed to instigating it. Just this week I was talking to a priest who grew up as a Baptist. One of the things he was looking for when he (re-)joined the Church was a solid foundation on which to base his faith — something he didn’t think his Baptist church, which often fragmented when a new pastor was hired, afforded him.

That this should be true for the laity — even absent any prodding from the clergy — really shouldn’t surprise us. When I have conversations with other catechetical leaders the talk often turns to the so-called “lost generations” who received incomplete catechesis in their parishes. It is only natural that, lacking a solid foundation of understanding in their faith, they should be drawn to a more robust and (to borrow a phrase) “caffeinated” Christianity.

The challenge for the Church, I believe, is to welcome evangelical Catholics and create space for their energy to act as leaven in the Church. They are the heir-apparent of the Boomers and the future movers and shakers in the Church (indeed, they are already making their presence known in many organizations). Coupled with their deft use of social media and other communication technologies, anyone who dismisses their efforts will soon find themselves left in the dust as evangelical Catholics create their own structures to carry out their work in the Church.

This, in turn, prompted further reflections on Dr. Ed Stetzer’s thoughts on the future of denominations in the life of the Church. If, as he states, denominations need to be focused on their mission in the world as opposed to looking internally at their institutional structures, then it may well be right to say that our 40-years of navel-gazing after the council are up and, rather than look at  how the council affected the Church (spiritually, institutionally, theologically, etc.) it is time to re-read the documents in light of what it means to be a Church in the world.

A lot of time and energy has been put into catechizing the People of God about the implications of the council and calling them to greater participation in the life of the Church. But I’m not convinced that, apart from the ecumenical movement, a lot has been done to point out the significance of the council for the work of the Church in the broader human community.

Too often Bl. Pope John XXIII’s call to “open the windows” of the Church has been interpreted as an invitation to let the influences of secularism into the Church. I would argue that the purpose of opening the windows was to let the Church out into the world! Christ called us to be the light of the world; how can we be light to the world while huddled in the safe confines of our churches — physically or psychologically?

The council highlighted many important truths about the nature of the Church and reminded us that we are the People of God. But we are people sent on a mission. It’s time to stop thinking about how we organize that mission and time to start putting it into practice.

1. continue to emphasize their mission in the world as opposed to focusing on their work as an institution;
2. hold fast to their core beliefs against theological fads;
3. and they will need to embrace methodological diversity among their members.

While I may disagree with some of the particulars of Dr. Stetzer’s analysis (in particular his comments on diversity in church services don’t translate well to Catholic liturgical theology) I do believe that these three basic principles have something to say to Catholics.

Regarding his first point, Dr. Stetzer sees most church activities as falling along a continuum between a missional and institutional mindset. Put simply, a missional church is one which sees it work as outward-focused and is exemplified by the preaching of the Gospel. From a Catholic standpoint we would include charitable acts, the RCIA and support of the missions. An institutional church, on the other hand, is concerned with maintaining its internal structures. It is the finance councils, personnel boards and pension committees.

Obviously all churches maintain some balance between these two extremes. No church can survive for long without thinking about how to pay the bills (even St. Paul had to hit up his churches for cash!); at the same time, a church concerned only with preserving itself will soon become ossified and without life (see, for instance, the many mainline churches that boast huge endowments but a dwindling, aging membership). Dr. Stetzer points out that, in the balance, we must favor the missional role of the church over the institutional, for it is through this evangelizing effort that we fulfill the Great Commission.

Dr. Stetzer also exhorted churches to maintain some sort of confessional discipline. Within our Catholic tradition, this means holding fast to the Creed and the teachings of the Church passed down throughout the centuries. In order to do that we must “always be prepared to make a defense” for our beliefs (1Pet 3:15) and to do so in a way that refuses to fall into a simple denunciation of what we are not. As Pope Benedict XVI  reminds us,

Christianity, Catholicism, isn’t a collection of prohibitions: it’s a positive option. It’s very important that we look at it again because this idea has almost completely disappeared today. We’ve heard so much about what is not allowed that now it’s time to say: we have a positive idea to offer.

Finally, Dr. Stetzer invited us to embrace methodological diversity within our denominations as a way to respect individual Christian communities and as a way to continue our missional work. From a Catholic standpoint, we might take this to mean rejecting a “one size fits all” approach to parish life. While there are a variety of ministries that parishes can be involved in, it does not follow that every parish should be involved in them all. Pastors and parish staffs need to look closely at their surrounding communities and determine the authentic needs of their parishioners and the wider community.

For instance, in the city I live in we have a parish that, after looking at their neighborhood, discerned that they were being called to offer more services to the aging population that made up the bulk of the residences in their area. They do not offer a children’s religious education program or vacation bible school, but partner with another parish to offer these ministries. My son’s parish school, located in an urban part of town, uses as its tagline “The Beauty of God’s Creation in All Its Diversity,” reflecting not only the school’s ethnic diversity but the variety of special education services they provide. Another parish in town does not have a full-time DRE but has a wide range of small faith communities led by parishioners for particular groups with particular interests.

All of these groups are carrying out the Church’s ministry but in very different and particular ways. None of them is “more right” than the other, but are best suited for them. This is not to say that they disagree on the doctrines of the faith, merely that they find various ways to live it out in the life of their parish and reach out to the particular people in their range of influence.

The pressure on churches to compromise and accommodate will only increase in the coming years. While far from a comprehensive program, Dr. Stetzer’s address offers a good start for thinking about how the Church will be called to answer questions from the wider culture.

221. Which are the chief means by which we satisfy God for the temporal punishment due to sin?
The chief means by which we satisfy God for the temporal punishment due to sin are: Prayer, Fasting, Almsgiving, all spiritual and corporal works of mercy, and the patient suffering of the ills of life.

- Rev. Thomas J. O’Brien, Advanced Catechism of Catholic Faith and Practice (1902)

The other day I wrote about the propensity in our modern society to avoid anything that might limit or impede our ability to “have it all.” While there are many causes for this shift, at least some blame can be attributed to our diminished sense of the value of suffering.

Traditionally, suffering was seen as a means of encountering Christ because Christ, in his humanity, endured the same physical and psychological pains we experience. Through his Incarnation Jesus joined himself to the human condition and raised it to perfection, including all of our pains and toils. The Compendium of the Catechism of the Catholic Church says that Jesus’ suffering “showed how his humanity was the free and perfect instrument of that divine love which desires the salvation of all people.” (119) Jesus became one of us and suffered for us out of love.

This shared experience unites us with Christ, especially by reminding us of his Passion and death. This is why our suffering can become a sacrifice to God — Christ’s suffering sanctifies our suffering and makes it holy. Take a moment to think about that: Christ has given us a powerful spiritual weapon in our own human suffering, a weapon the Church has long recognized! It has the power to release souls from Purgatory (no small thing!), serve as satisfaction for our sins and unite us more closely with Christ and the saints!

If only we would remember the power of suffering we might not be so eager to avoid it in our day-to-day lives. We might embrace Prayer, Fasting, Almsgiving, the tiny indignities we face every day all the demands they place on us — demands of humility, hunger, treasure and time. (And for today’s busy person, what is more precious than time?!) We might even cease to look at corporal mortification as a weird medieval relic. Certainly we would recognize the Prosperity Gospel as the heresy it is.

So, the next time you find yourself stuck in traffic or asked to do something extra at work or in the parish, do what your grandparents did: offer it up to the poor souls in Purgatory. They, and you, will be better off for it.

Which is a way of saying that today I got to speak on the phone with Chris Godfrey, a former Super Bowl champion who is now running a program called Life Athletes that encourages students in live lives of virtue, abstinence, chastity, and respect for life. He sent me a link to a recent interview he did with Angela and David Franks; I thought it would be of interest:

I suspect that fairy tales and Santa Claus do prepare us to embrace the ultimate Fairy Tale, the one Lewis believed was ingrained in our being. New research from the Université de Montréal and the University of Ottawa indicates that children aren’t overly troubled upon learning that Santa is a myth. But the researchers remained puzzled because while children eventually abandon Santa, they keep believing in God. Lewis would say this is because God is real, but Mr. Dawkins fears it is the lasting damage of fairy tales. While Mr. Dawkins stands ironically alongside Puritans in his readiness to ban fairy tales, Christian apologists like Lewis and Chesterton embraced them, precisely because to embrace Christian dogma is to embrace the extrarational.

Today’s Christian apologists, by contrast, seek to reason their way to God by means of archaeological finds, anthropological examinations and scientific argumentation. That’s all well and good, but it seems to miss a fundamental point illuminated by Chesterton, which is that, ultimately, belief in God is belief in mystery.

As an unabashed fan of Lewis, Tolkien and Rowling I heartily concur. When we seek to banish fantasy literature from our children’s reading we do them a grave disservice — ultimately, by inoculating them against that sense of mystery, awe and wonder that is necessary to accept the gift of faith in the first place.

Santa Claus may not be a substitute for the divine, but he is certainly cut from the same cloth as Aslan, Gandalf and Dumbledore. That children embrace him should not cause us scandal; he is a doorway to the “deeper magic.”