I am inveterate explainer. It’s just what I do. Where some men draw a picture of a horse, I draw a picture of a horse and then write below it: “THIS IS A HORSE.” When it seems necessary, I italicize “horse”. And boldface. And underline, just in case. That’s because I hold two deep and contradictory convictions.
The first is that if you build an idiot-proof argument, they’ll build a better idiot.
The second is that if I just apply myself hard enough, I will nonetheless build the idiot-proof argument for this or that truth of the Faith.
I’m always, therefore, attracted to arguments that make things extremely clear, rather than to Delphic utterances that leave things shrouded in mystery and ambiguity. My impulse, nearly always, is to over-explain rather than to leave people to puzzle through their bafflement and come to discovery.
Such a personality has always stood me in good stead as an apologist-type dude when I am obsessively trying to nail down every conceivable objection to, say, the Church’s teaching on Mary or whatnot. But that personality is not always appropriate in every circumstance. Jesus, for instance, disagrees with me about the advisability of always explaining everything in exhausting detail. More often than not, Jesus will offer some cryptic utterance and then stand there, waiting for his audience to connect the dots. Particularly maddening to me is the fact that, when they don’t connect the dots, or they connect the wrong dots, He doesn’t swoop in and help them do the math. He gives, for instance, the Bread of Life discourse in John 6 and, when everybody but the apostles stalks off in a rage saying “This is a hard saying! Who can hear it?”, he doesn’t run after them explaining that this is all about the Eucharist and it will be really good if they just stick around and wait it out because in a couple of years it will all make sense. He just turns to the apostles and says, “Well? Are you leaving too?”
He does the same with his parables, which he only explained to his disciples. Again, maddening. A perfectly good chance to draw a picture and then write “THIS IS A HORSE” under it and He blows it almost every time. Even when He’s on trial he misses great opportunity to explain to Pilate and Caiaphas who He really is and what’s going on. “Are you the Christ?” ask Pilate and Caiaphas “Thou hast said,” He replies. It not only ensures crucifixion, it leaves Pilate and Caiaphas free to draw the wrong conclusion! I want to shout “Tell them who you are! Do a sign! Explain the meaning! Eliminate ambiguity! Tell them what to think and do!!!!”
“Thou hast said.” What kind of oblique answer is that? If I were Him, I’d be spelling it out. Making absolutely sure that anybody I was speaking to would not be able to arrive at any conclusion but the one I wanted them to arrive at.
Jesus, however, seems uninterested in what I think. He seems to think that many times, the best teacher is maddening silence that forces you to ask, “What on earth does He mean?” and then to puzzle it through till you find out. He seems to think this so much, in fact, that He’s willing to risk the possibility that some people will choose never to puzzle it through—and wind up crucifying Him as a result.
Why on earth does He do that? I’m still working on it. I’m sure I’ll prove Him wrong one of these days, because I’m just so smart. Surely, in time, He will realize how right I am and how my way is best!
Which brings me to today’s topic: What places in Jesus’ or the Church’s teaching does God resolutely refuse to do things your way and how has it forced you to change and grow? Might be an interesting topic of conversation, doncha think? Only (here’s the ground rules from your over-controlling host) stick to the topic. That means, not only, “Don’t drag in irrelevancies” but especially, “Don’t confess somebody else’s problem”. What I mean is this: It’s easy to talk about how Those People Over There don’t like the Church’s teaching on, say, gay marriage or abortion. If I’d wanted to talk about what’s hard for Those People Over There I would have written a column with the theme “Get a Load of Those People Over There. What a Bunch of Maroons! They Can’t Handle What I Can! Aren’t I Great?”
Instead, I wrote this piece with this theme. So let’s stick to it. What is it about the Church’s teaching that you find challenging and difficult, and how has it forced you to think and grow?
One last point: Nobody needs to treat this like the sacrament of reconciliation and say anything that embarrasses themselves in public. Maintain appropriate decorum. My idea is that it sometimes helps to air one’s struggles and discover somebody else who has faced (and overcome) similar difficulties. On a related note, posts which presume to sit in judgment of other people’s struggles will be ruthlessly deleted by yours truly. The idea is help one another and bear each other’s burdens, not chew out or offer dimestore psychoanalysis to a struggling brother or sister for their alleged “faithlessness” when they are doing the best they can.
Have I over-explained enough yet? Good! Just so there’s no ambiguity. I hate that! If you need me, I’ll be praying and trying talk Jesus out of it again. I’m sure He’ll listen this time.
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I dislike that there is no, in your words, Grand Theory of Everything that makes it clear what the right thing to do is in every situation.
Just when I think that I have it right, or that I agree with this person or group, I realize that they or I have gotten it wrong in some way or another. It’s like trying to hit a moving target. However, it teaches me humility that it’s a long trek to perfection and God, not the devil, is in the details.
Paraphrasing Chesterton, it’s not just that the faith is right in the all the right places, it’s wrong in just the right places, too. When you look at the human body and say, “two eyes, two ears, two hands; there must be two hearts,” you’re proven wrong again.
All those little inconveniences in Scripture about forgiving other people, not bickering or being partisan. Because i really really really like to be Right. And Have My Own Way.
I’m certain there are others but that’s what leaps to mind at the moment.
As I was writing what I thought would be a short reply, thoughts just kept coming to me, so…
*brings out soapbox*
I think the parables serve a variety of purposes:
1) to separate sheep from goats, or perhaps those who only want more bread from those who want Truth. I think Jesus was sad to see so many leave Him at the Bread of Life discourse, but I think He must’ve known that for some of those, it just wasn’t the time for their conversion and they would convert back later (a fact catechists have to face on a daily basis), while for others among them, His saying was true that even if they saw the Resurrection, they would not believe.
2) in light of #2, it seems that the parables provided an opportunity for God to glorify His Apostles, who will follow Him in faith: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” His elect, by God’s grace, are open to what He has to say, and thus welcome His parables with confused but loyal hearts.
3) following on #3, to draw His faithful into deep reflection and prayer. For all the clarity of Aquinas (well, clarity, once you get past his terminology), there is something to be said for the approach of those who write in parables with a depth that draws hearts. Those who accept His words in faith are then and only then truly able to contemplate them (cf. St. Anselm - “fides quaerens intellectum”). In fact, in as much as they express in some weak way the ineffable mystery of God, parables are a better form of revelation than direct teaching of those eternal truths. While direct teaching may tell us about God clearly, we know that anything that makes God clear is further from the Truth of God than any teaching which expresses Him while still keeping Him a mystery. God cannot be clear to us, and so it is better teaching to preserve His mystery, which expresses His Truth in a method that also expresses Him, than to teach Him in a way that expresses His Truth in an effort to make Him “clear,” which is to some degree disingenuous, since He is utter mystery. In this way, I think Catechesi Tradendae 6 could be interpreted as giving preference to parables, since they teach Christ as content, but also teach Christ (qua mysterious revelation of mystery) as method, methodologically preserving the mystery. Parables, which are “thrown alongside” approximate the Truth and the Mystery together. (To be clear, I’m not against attempts to make God “clear,” so long as we always keep in mind that it only works by analogy, and even then fails miserably to capture the Truth about God.)
4) also as an extension of #2, parables serve to fulfill the words of Christ not to cast pearls before swine. Those who reject Him temporarily or permanently are not given something they will trample underfoot. There is perhaps some question as to whether our current evangelization efforts take this into account. We tend to try to convert people with arguments on Christian doctrine, where we discuss those doctrines openly, but perhaps, teaching as alteri Christi (again, cf. CT 6), we ought to convert them more through our actions and lives, retaining something of a mystery about our faith (not holding back that we are Christians, nor the Gospel itself, but the intellectual ins and outs of our faith, allowing those to come in the proper time when evangelizing, e.g. proclaim the Kingdom, then explain its laws, proclamation of mystery, then explanation of truth). How many people might catechists be losing because they offer the intellectual arguments too early and don’t know how properly to employ parables? No catechetical environment is perfect; I teach theology in a Catholic prep school and have to assume that my students are open to the Gospel and the intellectual arguments, but I know I have a mixed audience, and I wish I could teach parables to some and treatises to others.
5) I think St. Josemaria Escriva, while not strictly speaking presenting parables, comes close for our modern minds. He has a way of presenting the Truth of the Gospel in a manner that is at once concise and profound, light-of-yoke and convicting of heart. I’m convinced that he is the greatest saint of our time for this particular aspect of catechetical methodology.
Ha! Messed up my numbering a bit! Don’t edit while typing!
Hi Mark,I wonder if consciously or unconsciously your analogy of “THIS IS A HORSE” came from George MacDonald’s famous essay “The Fantastic Imagination” (1892). Here is what he has to say: “Suppose my child ask me what the fairytale means, what am I to say?” If you do not know what it means, what is easier than to say so? If you do see a meaning in it, there it is for you to give him. A genuine work of art must mean many things; the truer its art, the more things it will mean. If my drawing, on the other hand, is so far from being a work of art that it needs THIS IS A HORSE written under it, what can it matter that neither you nor your child should know what it means? It is there not so much to convey a meaning as to wake a meaning. If it does not even wake an interest, throw it aside. A meaning may be there, but it is not for you. If, again, you do not know a horse when you see it, the name written under it will not serve you much. At all events, the business of the painter is not to teach zoology. But indeed your children are not likely to trouble you about the meaning. They find what they are capable of finding, and more would be too much. For my part, I do not write for children, but for the childlike, whether of five, or fifty, or seventy-five.” [end of quote] - - - As for things that fit the category of theological puzzles, how about the doctrine of hell? Again, MacDonald believed in free will, but also believed that eventually God’s love would eventually win over even the devil himself, even if it took a billion years. And before you dismiss my post for being too heretical, please note that the famous 20th century Catholic theologian von Bathasar wrote a book (published by Ignatius Press) called “Dare we Hope that All Men Might be Saved?” (his answer is yes). I think the key word in the title is “hope” because we don’t know all the details about the afterlife and I suppose we aren’t meant to know. Many things are ambiguous, so we puzzle and we pray. Will Uncle Joe get to heaven even though he turned his back on the Church? Only God knows what may have transpired at the moment of death or at the pearly gates.
One thing that drives me nuts occasionally is summed up in the old adage “the wheels of the Church turn slowly”. What Mark has already noted as the tendency of the hierarchy to behave like a gathering of Ents.
In this age of lightning quick communication, when half the world may be scandalized overnight at some awful revelation of misconduct or evil, and false opinion, libel, slander and nonsense are multiplying like maggots, the Church - perhaps a year later - clears its throat and rumbles “Hoom-hom… we have decided… you.. are not… an orc”. At which point we Hobbits in the Catholic trenches want to pull the hair out of our little furry toes.
In my mind, I think I want the Pope to step out onto the balcony at St. Peter’s Square and say something like, “Look, I’m up to HERE with news of sexual abuse, and this is where it stops. God help you if we find you’ve molested a child in a Catholic parish. You had better hope the police get to you first!”
But then I remember that the Pope and the bishops are steering the colossal ship of the Church through very dangerous waters, and to do anything rashly or suddenly on a great ship is to invite disaster.
If the Pope - the Vicar of Christ on earth - were to allow himself to come over all angry, and fire off some verbal bullets, it’s a cinch that some of us lay folk - perhaps a number of us - would come over even angrier and start firing real bullets.
I’d like some unambiguous clarity in Church documents, while we’re at it. At least as chapter headings. Something like, ” ‘Women priests’ is a contradiction in terms within the Catholic Church. It ain’t happening. Period. Not now, not ever. Get thee over it.” - except in Latin, of course.
Sorry, I’m still chuckling over “Get thee over it.” I may have to start using that!
None of us speak for the Church. Personal opinions are irrelevant and mean nothing. If you want the correct answers to issues of the day go to the “Catechism of the Catholic Church, Second Edition” that was first published in the US in March of 2000.
Celibacy for Priests; men only be ordained priests; homosexuality being disordered; homosexual acts being a mortal sin; the Church’s teaching on marriage; automatic excommunication for those participating in abortions; the main role of Bishops being to “teach”; the principle of subsidiarity; being against socialism and against collectivism; the Church’s teaching on Mary; Purgatory; indulgences, sacramentals, and so much more is contained in this book.
If you read the CCC without taking anything out of context, you can always be correct regarding the Church’s teachings. The footnotes at the bottom of each page quote the appropriate Scripture or documentation.
There is no need to debate anything. The answers have been provided to all of us.
I don’t understand what the big deal is, or why there are so many questions.
What drives me crazy is why - so many Bishops and Priests do not actively and promenently promote this Catechism to all the Faithful on Diocese web sites, Parish web sites, from the pulpit etc.
As Cardinal John O’Connor once said: “The Church is not a salad bar; you can not pick and chose what you want to believe”.
One last thing - we are supposed to “judge” sinful acts.
We must not tolerate sin.
When is the last time we heard that from a pulpit ? ? ? ?
Read the CCC you may be surprised at what you find - since its all there !
Anne:
I am leaving your comments up as a specimen of exactly what I am *not* looking for in this thread.
Other readers: Please do not reply to Anne’s confession of the Sins and Failings of Those People Over There. The idea is to talk about where the Faith challenges us, not to engage in yet another rehearsal of Culture War rhetoric starring virtuous Me against appallingly evil Them. Still less is it to pretend that the Faith is a snap and only a fool or a wilfully perverse person could have any trouble at all living it out. Please, drop the Culture Warrior armor and stick with the point of the thread.
A few things that drive me nuts about the Church, and this is referring not at all to doctrine or discipline, but how some things on a local level are administered. My wife has a degree in theology from a reputable university, but was hired as a receptionist. Even though the entire staff and the priests come to her with theology questions, she’s often overlooked for opportunities to play a catechetical role in the parish (in favor of others who don’t know anything about theology). I also have a degree in theology, but am never asked to participate in parish or diocesan events (in favor of people who, again, have no background in theology). I’m not talking as one of those, “I have a theology degree, so I’m here to change the world and all you heretics, hit the floor!” types, but when there is a lack of qualified people (and there is a serious lack here), it would be nice to put your background to some good use.
Also, what is it with the Church’s teaching on a just wage, but the complete inability of many employers in the Church to pay a just wage. Parishes and schools devote tens of thousands to special (and completely unnecessary) projects, then tell employees, “sorry, we’re trying to reach a just wage, but it will take some time.” Let’s face it, their approach to “trying to reach a just wage” is similar to the efforts many pastors exhort their parishioners to, suggesting their parishioners start tithing at 2% and build up from there. Really, how well does that work? I always get the feeling it doesn’t. To avoid hypocrisy, I barely tithe anything, as the standing orders of our last bishop were that his employees should not, since he can’t pay them what they’re owed. When I was looking for a job a few years ago, I realized that priests by and large haven’t a clue what it costs to live these days. That realization dawned on me when I figured priests must just find the national average salary for the position their advertising and go with that, which is the only understandable explanation for why a priest was offering $25,000/year for a youth ministry position…in Boston.
In both these situations, though, I am challenged to grow in trust in God. His providence has never failed me.
To paraphrase a bit, it’s not the parts of the Bible or Church teaching I don’t understand that bother me, it’s the parts I do understand that bother me.
One of those things is that the Church is the Body of Christ, that we are members of that body, that we are a family. So how do I live as part of that body/family when, as Frank Costanza said at Festivus “I got a lot of problems with you people!”
As a general rule, I find the phrase, “both/and,” (vs. “either/or”) to be an apt description of the Church’s teachings. And yet, depending on the priest, bishop or lay person you talk to, the issue seems to be very often given in the “either/or” context.
For example, I don’t know of any sane person who thinks that illegal immigrants should all be summarily shipped back to where they came from. But on the other hand, I know lots and lots of people, within the hierarchy of the Church, who think that everyone should come on in, by whatever means necessary, and they should be welcomed with open arms. My point is, of course we must “care for the stranger.” We absolutely must be charitable and helpful to the real needs of people, including illegal immigrants. But when someone tries to have a rational discussion about the reality that illegal immigration is illegal, that there are factually lots of repercussions to unchecked immigration, that they are by and large, being exploited, etc., etc., (the “both/and” type of discussion), one is called “racist,” or xenophobic, or worse. Why can’t more bishops and priests teach what the Church truly teaches and not such slanted or politically correct views?
Brian, an old Irish blessing I think you will enjoy (and only the Irish would come up with it):
“May those that love us, love us.
And those that don’t love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn’t turn their hearts,
May He turn their ankles
So we will know them by their limping.”
In reality, though, yes, I pray daily that those in the Church I can’t stand will come to agree with me. :-p
First off, to pick a nit: “thou has said it” was first-century Semitic for “you got that right, baby.” In the context of his time Jesus could not have been clearer. Which brings me to my pet peeve - with all the emphasis in the Catechism on reading and understanding the Word, we are still woefully inadequate in Scriptural catechesis. I know that there are bright spots in the gloom. If you haven’ yet connected to the Institue of Catholic Culture, check it out. But face it - it’s gloom. I don’t think most Catholics even realize that the Scriptural readings at Mass are intended to introduce you to the Scriptures, and at least at my parish, exegesis is a crossword entry. By the way - “May those that love us” is also claimed by the Scots and the Italians. And one of the things that bugs me about being a Catholic, rather than about the Church, is that you continually run into people who not only assume that the Irish are superior to everybody else, but assume that everybody else agrees with that belief.
And one of the things that bugs me about being a Catholic, rather than about the Church, is that you continually run into people who not only assume that the Irish are superior to everybody else, but assume that everybody else agrees with that belief.
Thou hast said it! (Sorry, couldn’t resist)<;-).>
This love one another thing is really hard!
Well, Mary, that’s because the Irish are superior. Don’t you agree?
:-p
Acrually, since I have half a dozen European and near Asian ethnicities in me, I’ve got to admit that the Irish aren’t best, but you have to consider that Irish Catholics in the US, much like Italian Catholics here, had to carve out a pretty unique place for themselves to succeed. I think it started as survival and just became an institution from there. The Irish, German, and Italian Catholics in the country all thought they were the better Catholics. I don’t think my quote above was claiming superiority to any other ethnicities, though, I simply know it in association with my Irish background, with no prejudice against my German background or my love of all things Italian.
I’ve found God anew in my world. I begun taking my Faith seriously.
Every morning, I pray to God that He may allow me to be an instrument of His love.
And then, at night, I usually face an entire day’s worth of failures and so pray for forgiveness and better strength tomorrow. But, the whole time that I’m praying, I’m thinking, “Aren’t I great to see my own faults?! Man alive! I am a freakin’ expert at this whole ‘humility’ thing!”
God makes us humble so that our prayers *mean* something. And yet, when I am driven to my knees, I lose track of *why* I ever got to that point.
That’s my story… thanks for listening.
Also, I find it very difficult to leave the Culture War alone when I engage God daily. And yet, when I truly engage God, I’ve got to do so with an understanding of my own terrible imperfections. Paradoxically, when I’m staring my gross inadequacies in the face, I find it very difficult to suit up for battle at all!
How the heck’s He expect to get anything done with sniveling idiots like me working for Him?
Good thing we’ve got guys like Mark Shea with a little more insight and discipline and a little less self-doubt!
Good thing we’ve got guys like Mark Shea with a little more insight and discipline and a little less self-doubt!
Hmmm… it appears you don’t know me very well. I’m not insightful. I just know who to steal ideas from. My weight does not scream “good discipline”. And my self-doubt could paralyze a charging rhino.
My problem with Church teaching is the whole matter of sufficient Grace vs. actual Grace. If God gives me actual Grace, then I can do His will. Sufficient Grace is only sufficient to damn me because it isn’t actual, and leaves me with the good I was given sufficient (but not actual) Grace to embrace, that I didn’t, since it wasn’t actual; or the evil to refudiate (sorry, couldn’t resist), but didn’t.
Of course, free will is the problem, especially in light of God’s omniscience about me, before He even made me. I’ve applied a variation of Pascal’s gambit to it, to wit, that if I my own will really isn’t salient to what God already knows, then it wouldn’t, as it were, even be me pretending otherwise. But if somehow the omniscience allows me to – how to say, I stumble here – actually influence things, in particular (via actual Grace you know) my own salvation, then it would be a mistake of some magnitude to use such will in order to conclude it doesn’t exist.
All of which to say that, like St. Paul, but somewhat less admirably, I find that I live doing the things I don’t want to & not doing those which I do, without quite understanding why I don’t summon up the strength or get the actual Grace to reverse that equation.
And I fear the matter is one God will choose to leave ambiguous until the terrible hour when, for a moment endless, it no longer will be.
Nonetheless, Mr. Shea, should you know anyone from whom you can steal the letters to write under the horse above described, here’s hoping it’ll provoke a little actual Grace.
Mark - excellent post.
I’d have to say what drives me nuts (and makes me grow) is God allowing me free will. I KNOW it is required for my decision to love Him to be true love, and I KNOW that through Him I can do all that He wants me to do. But instead I’m a sinner. I don’t want to be a sinner! It’s gross! It’s ... horrendous!
But it does one HUGE thing, it makes me humble (and being a guy that LOVES apologetics and explaining everything perfectly like you Mark) humility is something I need. The fact that God is using my failings, failings I despise, to make me humble and learn to rely on Him (a lesson I don’t think I’ve learned yet) is a wild, frustrating, flabbergasting miracle.
God rocks. And thanks to all the other sinners out there for being used by God to point out my own failings. Hopefully we can all work out this Saint thing.
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