“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Nathanael's question was cynical perhaps, but nonetheless widespread (Jn 1:46).
For many, particularly if you were raised in the Protestant tradition,
the same question might be asked of the church in the Middle Ages. The scandal of three popes (formerly
referred to as the Western Schism), the proliferation of religious wars, and
the widespread corruption of the clergy cast an enormous shadow on the
community which professed its allegiance to Jesus, the Light of the world. Describing this period as the “Dark
Ages,” in certain aspects, has its warrant.
Many see the scintillating scandals of the Middle Ages as
proof enough for what they see as a wholesale abandonment of the gospel and a
wanton neglect of the way of life modeled after Jesus Christ. In this vein, it is easy to simply
write off the Catholic Church and dismiss about one thousand years of church
history as a spiritual/theological/ecclesial "wandering in the desert."
Yet history has a funny way of revealing beautiful and inconvenient
truths that confound our overly simplistic meta-narratives. Honest historical inquiry unveils not
only the inherent fallenness of the church but also the enduring faithfulness
and pastoral innovation that bear the authentic marks of the Savior. A walk through church history reveals a strong and curious light, the promised presence of Christ that never left the people of God (Mt 28:20).
One might be surprised, for example, to learn that Jim
Rayburn wasn’t the first to intuit the pastoral initiative to “meet them where
they’re at” and “earn the right to be heard.” As the 12th century experienced the rapid rise of
urban centers across Europe, new modes of apostolic life emerged in the
Catholic Church to respond to this seismic cultural shift. Surely, silence and solitude remained
critical to the spiritual life and monastic communities had their place, but
many Catholic Christians began to ponder how their passion to follow in
Christ’s footsteps might be played out in new and creative ways within the hustle
and bustle of Europe’s bourgeoning cities.
Enter the Dominicans and Franciscans (and later the Carmelites and Augustinians). These devoted followers of Christ saw
the pressing needs of the common people and were inspired to bring the light of
Christ into the grungy darkness of medieval cities. Like the God of the Incarnation who they served, Franciscan
friars and Dominican priests “moved into the neighborhood” and earned the right
to be heard by living amongst the people in friendship and solidarity.[1]
Furthermore, the religious meetings of these new mendicant
orders were often held outside the liturgical setting of Mass. These dynamic and animated
preachers attracted large numbers of people who had grown tired of the daily
grind and who were hungry for a new word of hope. It seems like these radical Christians had a penchant for proclaiming the gospel with a keen eye on culture. This is all starting to sound strangely familiar.
By no means do I wish to present this as a race, with the
Catholics “getting there first.”
There is not even a hint of triumphalism in this. I do, however, wish to establish a
longstanding continuity between the Catholic tradition and those
spiritual-pastoral insights that we so highly value in Young Life. Who knows, maybe Rayburn himself, in
his study of church history, stumbled upon the 13th century
mendicant orders and was inspired to inaugurate a similar movement amidst the
equally swirling dynamics of adolescent youth culture today?
What ever the case, we detect together, even amidst the shadowy
eclipse of the Dark Ages, a ray of light which continues to inspire the whole
people of God – Protestants and Catholics alike – to shine like a city on a
hill (Mt 5:14) and proclaim the luminous message of Jesus Christ to all
peoples.
[1] Leopold Clueckert, O. Carm., Desert Springs in the City, Darien, IL:
Carmelite Media, 2012, pp.20-21.