EUROCAT 2009: when strangers meet
For us, it’s twenty-one years since the publication of the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults in English(1988),and some forty-four years since the Vatican II call for the restoration of the catechumenate (Decree on the Missionary Activity of the Church, Ad Gentes Dec 1965). At the end of this week there is to be European gathering of representatives involved in the catechumenate (‘Eurocat’), with delegates expected from 22 countries, east to west, north to south. Each delegation is asked to provide a ‘poster’ of statistics from their context, together with a written report, and will have the opportunity to speak about the state of the catechumenate and the challenges faced.
So what are the good things? And the challenges? Although we do not have a ‘desk’ for the catechumenate at national level, as many countries do, the RCIA Network for England and Wales does have membership in most dioceses. Together we build on the good work that many dioceses are doing, and aim to encourage and share resources, both people and materials. From Network conference and study day participants over the years, and from those working in advisory roles, we hear that although many dioceses have identified ‘mission’ as important, this model is not always connected with RCIA. Statistics are available as to the numbers attending the Rite of Election in each diocese, as well as adult baptisms and receptions. Do these provide a full picture of catechumenal activity? What proportion of parishes in each diocese see themselves as initiating communities? How are those already graced through Baptism received into full communion in our parishes? How do we begin to integrate candidates and catechumens into the life of the community from the very start?
At the moment you may be aware that the Network is engaged in producing material that will support formation of parish ‘teams’. There are Network study days this year on the Role of the Assembly, with workshops on Receiving the Baptised and Formation of Teams. Work is also being done in collaboration with the Bishops Conference Department for Christian Life & Worship on Guidelines for Christian Initiation of Children of Catechetical Age.
The Eurocat conference theme is ‘Integration’ looking at what happens when strangers meet, and the psychological aspects of integration of newcomers into existing social systems. Please remember the conference in your prayer – perhaps with echoes of today’s Gospel in mind. There will be much telling of stories of ‘what has happened on the road’ in different lands, and perhaps some ‘agitation and doubts’. But above all, hearing Christ speak ‘It is I’ in all of these.
What’s next
So the Day of Resurrection that took a week to celebrate draws to a close. Birthing pools for baptism by total immersion are put away; the Easter flowers are beginning to fade; congratulations cards are being filed away with smiles as the names of well-wishers known and unknown are read … there is a real sense that a stage in the journey is complete and, despite the promise of mystagogia for the rest of one’s life, there can begin to creep in a sense of anti-climax… a “what next?” True, there are some whose enthusiasm will stay on a high for some time – particularly if they are given opportunities to relive the experience of the Vigil – but even for them the story of Thomas in the Gospel of the Second Sunday of Easter can sow useful seeds for the future.
It is strange that of all the wonderful stories in the Gospel, this is one the very few that we hear every year – and always at the end of the Easter Octave. True, it is about appearances of the Risen Lord – but most of us will probably remember Doubting Thomas and his frustration at the “tall tales” his friends - previously seen as fairly sane if not always quick on the uptake - are telling him – and their frustration at his not being able to accept what they say. You can imagine the Aramaic equivalent of “oh you had to be there…” springing to their lips, particularly as at that stage, Jesus had given no indication as to whether this was a one-off appearance or was to become a regular occurrence. How do you convey the encounter with a man who was dead in ways that convince someone who wasn’t there when he turned up? Thomas’ (again Aramaic equivalent of) “Yeah… right…” is actually quite sensible under the circumstances.
Caravaggio's painting of Thomas and the Risen Jesus
But – and here’s the rub – isn’t that what we are doing in the RCIA – telling others of our own encounters with one who was dead and who is now risen? But we can’t see him and we don’t hear his voice and we can’t put our own fingers in his wounds (even if we could overcome our squeamishness to do it) and we haven’t smelt and tasted the bread and fish that he served up after the resurrection either.. As eye witnesses it doesn’t make us very good, does it? And yet – somehow we do it! Something in our joy at believing without seeing comes across and people are drawn in to learn more – though we have to admit that an awful lot more come into the “Yeah… right…” category.
So how can we help our newly-fledged Christians and Catholics as they prepare to take flight – to encounter those who will be bemused by their decision and perhaps even be hostile to it? And how do we prepare them for the moment when all the “specialness” begins to evaporate and new set of people are the catechumens – the Elect – and they are just part of a congregation? What about when even for them, faith begins to become niggling doubt – or the pulls of daily living in a frequently unsympathetic society take the edge off the joy they thought they would never forget?
Well, maybe we can look at Thomas – what made the difference for him? We know that Thomas was one of the apostles who said he would go with Jesus and die with him – but didn’t… Also he was the one who admitted he didn’t know where Jesus was going so how could he know the way? Like the other disciples, it would take the personal meeting with the Risen Jesus to make sense of the things he had said about dying and rising again.
That personal encounter…. that moment when the rest of the world falls away and Christ becomes all in all… So where was it for our neophytes? Where for our candidates? Was it in the Word – something that spoke so clearly that it changed their lives? Was it in the Body of Christ – the People of God? Or in a priest? Or, in that moment of receiving the Lord in Communion for the first time? When did they know with all the capacity of their being that this was true – and could say with Thomas, “My Lord and my God”?
Legend has it that Thomas left Jerusalem and took the Gospel to India. It is likely that there were times when he would have quite liked to have given up – and plenty of conversations with people who were not remotely interested in the Good News of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. But that moment – the moment of meeting with Jesus and hearing his words “Doubt no longer but believe…” somehow kept him going.
So as we reflect with our new Catholics on the next stage of their journey, perhaps we can bring Thomas alongside as a guide. When he set forth from Jerusalem, he probably had no idea of the way he was going to follow – but he did know who his Way was – and his Truth – and his Life. And so do our new Catholics…
Thoughts to reflect on…
- What are the “soul-memories” of ways in which we have encountered Christ over months and years? How do we keep them alive and ready to strengthen us for the way ahead?
- When I look at the Host and Chalice elevated during the Eucharistic Prayer – and receive the Body and Blood of Christ, how can I develop a sense of this being my personal encounter with “My Lord and my God”?
Easter Sunday – A Reflection
Easter1988 I had the privilege of being present at the Holy Fire Ceremonies at the Holy Sepulchre Church in Jerusalem. The ceremony of the Holy Fire belongs to the Orthodox Churches. As a member of the
Western Roman Tradition it was necessary for me to be in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre from early morning. After the celebration of our Eucharist I managed to stay by going up the stairway onto the roof of the building. I stayed there along with an Israeli soldier until the ceremonies were about to begin in the early afternoon. (This could not happen to-day)
Watching the process down below was fascinating. Each time one of the Patriarchs of the Coptic or Armenian Churches arrived the doors were opened followed by a great rush to get into the Church before the doors were closed again. Eventually the Patriarch of the Greek Orthodox Church arrived and the doors were opened and closed for the last time before the ceremony began.
I came down to find the church packed with people. There was a real sense of carnival singing, dancing, drum-beating. Each one present carrying bunches of candles, often in carrier bags to be brought back home and distributed to friends and neighbours alike. When the official chant began a deep silence descended on the crowd. The Patriarchs entered the Tomb and the door of the tomb was closed. Everyone stretched out their hands, full of candles, towards the tomb of Christ. The silence was pregnant with expectation and profoundly moving – one of those extended moments which lasted, in reality for three or four minutes, but stretched into eternity and like Jacob’s ladder of old moved between heaven and earth. Then the door of the tomb opened and the Greek Patriarch emerged with a lighted torch and the words CHRIST IS RISEN. Words taken up by the whole group shouting Christ is Risen. The light passed to runners who circled the church three times, everyone trying to stop them to have their own candles lit – and within moments the interior of the church which was in darkness became bright with the light of Christ. Eventually the doors of the Holy Sepulchre were opened and the light entered the square. The shout went up even higher ‘Christ is Risen’. (The light from the tomb is flown in a protected container to Athens where the paschal fire there is lit from the fire in Jerusalem).
The following thought hit me: ‘If the fire from the tomb had been blown out by some freak occurrence– some people would literally have died.’ The whole experience was so powerful. And I instantly regretted our more prosaic approach to the world of symbol- take it or leave it. That evening I joined our own Easter Vigil celebrations at St Anne’s Church. The Paschal Fire was lit overlooking the pool of Beth-zatha where Jesus had healed the man waiting thirty-eight years to be put into the waters. The setting was and is elemental. That night there was a fairly strong breeze and the Paschal Candle was blown out three times before we reached the doors of St Anne’s Church. Each time it was just lit again and we all smiled. It was a beautiful ceremony yet unlike the afternoon celebration I had no sense of our lives depending on it. The thought I came away with, which still haunts me, is the need to develop a deeper sense of the power of symbol in our lives and liturgy. I hope that for all of us who have taken part in the Easter Vigil and Mass the experience may echo that of the poet Elizabeth Jennings.
“And in the cold night underneath the stars
I felt something like love and nothing of fear
For here was the holy ground and rising day
And it was right to be there.” (Elizabeth Jennings – Easter Vigil and Mass)