Christ Our Foundation

It is hardly imaginable for me to speak about anything else this week but the surprising announcement that Pope Benedict XVI will be resigning at the end of the month.  He literally gave his two weeks notice.  People have responded in wildly different ways, of course, but the key element in this news has been surprise.

No one was perhaps more surprised than Cardinal Francis Arinze of Nigeria (see video below).  He was sitting in the consistory meeting of bishops where the pontiff first broke the news.  Arinze is a fascinating character.  Born in Nigeria, Arinze was converted to Christ from African tribal religion at the age of nine.  He entered the seminary at age 15.  He became a priest and later graduated summa cum laude with a doctorate in sacred theology from Rome.  At age 32, he became the youngest bishop ever ordained in the Catholic Church. 

Perhaps even more fascinating is that Arinze could very well be the next pope.  There are no guarantees with this sort of thing, yet many Vatican insiders suggest Arinze is a frontrunner.  No matter who appears in St. Peter’s Square as the next successor to St. Peter, I found Arinze’s reaction to Pope Benedict’s announcement to be among the most beautiful and grounded:

Some people may be so shaken [by the news of the pope’s resignation].  But my hope and prayer is that it will help many to become more mature in their faith.  Our faith is not on the pope.  It is on Christ who is the foundation of the Church.  Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever.  We all are servants.  We come and go.  Christ doesn’t come and go.  He stays.[1]

As we enter into the season of Lent, the ashes on our foreheads (today is Ash Wednesday) remind us that “dust you are and to dust you will return”(Gen 3:19).  Our lives are like grass, flourishing one day and gone the next (Ps 103:15-16).  Yet our common faith is not ultimately in priests or pastors, Young Life leaders or youth directors (however great they may be).  Cardinal Arinze reminds us that our foundation is not even the pope.  The hope that binds us all is in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who is the same yesterday, today and forever.  In this we stand united.  In this the Good News is proclaimed.  In this God’s reign will endure forever.

The word is near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart.

Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.

Romans 10:8,13

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[1]             Cardinal Arinze’s comments were taken from an interview conducted by Francis X. Rocca of the Catholic News Service on February 12, 2013.  

Bridging the Gap: Church Teaching and Church Living

In the Evangelical world, the “bridge diagram” became a standard way to express the human condition, our separation from God due to sin and the reconciling (a.k.a. “bridge building”) work of Christ on the Cross.  Our sin has created a chasm between us and God tantamount to the Grand Canyon that we, no matter how we try or how “good” we are, can’t overcome.  Only Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross can bridge the gap and bring us into right relationship with God again.  This simple diagram could be explained in an elevator, written on a napkin and easily understood by young and old alike.  It typically looked something like this:

[1]

Recently another chasm has been reported and it is causing some serious headaches in the Catholic Church.  In her latest work, Forming Intentional Disciples, Sherry Weddell writes, “There is a chasm the size of the Grand Canyon between the [Catholic] Church’s sophisticated theology . . . and the lived spiritual experience of the majority of our people.”[2]  In other words, the truths and teachings of the Catholic Church are fine.  Matter of fact, they are beautiful, magnificent, timeless treasures.  The problem is, somehow all that sophistication is not “trickling down” to the masses.  Most Catholics are not living into the reality of the Church’s high calling.

The result?  Weddell continues, “As long as this holds true, the theology of the laity and the Church’s teaching on evangelization will remain beautiful ideals that are, practically speaking, dead letters for the vast majority of Catholics.”[3]  Wisdom is only valuable when it is used, when it is lived.  The sophisticated truths of the Catholic tradition are not simply intellectual statues to be lauded and adored.  It is not enough that “our team” has accumulated a trove of spiritual trophies.  Christ calls every baptized Christian to a conscious human response that is deeply personal, lived daily and communally embodied.

What is the cross that the Church must carry in order to bridge this tragic gap that has developed between its teachings and its flock?  In a word – discipleship.  It is not enough to ask people to lay their lives at the foot of the Cross.  We must tell them what to pick up.  We must show them through our lives and witness what it means to follow Jesus.  God’s Incarnate Son showed us in the flesh how to live a life in tune with the Father, in step with the Spirit (Gal 5:25).  The role of Young Life leaders is not to lead kids away from the Church but to help them live into the highest ideals of Catholicism marked on them at Baptism.

“And as the Father has sent me,” Jesus said, “so I am sending you”(Jn 20:21).  Let us, as Catholics, take up the cross of discipleship and follow in the footsteps of the Savior.  The world is waiting for true bridge-builders.

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[1]             If you still can’t figure it out, just ask your local Evangelical whose entire world would light up to hear you ask, “Hey, could you explain to me the bridge diagram please?” 

[2]             Sherry A. Weddell, Forming Intentional Disciples: The Path to Knowing and Following Jesus, Huntington, IN: Our Sunday Visitor Press, 2012, 11.

[3]             Ibid.

Catholic and Christian: One Catholic's Journey in Young Life

I've had the great privilege of getting to know some extraordinary people in the mission of Young Life who are true bridge-builders.  Their ecumenical spirit shines through in a world rife with discord and division.  Today I'm happy to introduce a friend whose life and story embodies the vision of Jesus for the church - "that they may be one".  Marisa Avramovich is Catholic and on Young Life staff in Pasadena, CA.  I think you'll appreciate her story. . .

Growing up, I attended Mass faithfully with my family. The drive to church was always a quiet one, as my parents didn’t let us listen to the radio. We were preparing ourselves for the Sacrament. It’s a practice that I still enjoy today on our drives to church. I was enrolled in Religious Education classes and I was confirmed in 10^th grade.  One of my best memories about my experience of faith as a child and young adult was the sense of community I grew up in.  Our church was an inter-generational experience—children, youth, college students, parents, grandparents, all coming together to worship.

 My parents were active members of the Church and they were heavily involved with Young Life in Riverside, CA.  My first memory of hearing about Young Life was as a child. My mom was taking some of my cousins, and I couldn’t go! Once I was old enough, I got to experience Wyldlife, Young Life clubs and camping. The summer between my junior and senior year, I served on work crew at Trail West in Colorado. The experience of serving others changed my life.  The connection of what I understood faith to be in my head from my catechism & experiences growing up, and how to live it out clicked. My faith was compelling me to do something bigger than myself—to live my life in service to others.

In college my Catholic faith was challenged and questioned for the first time.  When I told new friends that I was Catholic, I was met with, “Oh, so you’re not saved” or “So, you’re not Christian?” I didn’t understand why people were questioning if I was a Christian - I loved Jesus and loved going to church. I felt hurt, misunderstood and had more than a handful of tearful conversations with my parents. These encounters led me to learn more about Catholic theology & doctrine so that when I heard those responses, I could engage from an informed place. The more I learned, the more I wanted to correct the misinformation that was out there about the Catholic faith.

Today, I am on staff with Young Life in Pasadena, CA.  I’m still a practicing Catholic and I’m married to an amazing man who happens to be Protestant (and the Area Director!). We have an ecumenical marriage and we strive to live that out in our ministry. I’ve also had the great privilege of speaking to the Latino Student Staff about bridging the gap between Protestant & Catholics in Young Life.

At the end of the day, we all want young people to hear about Jesus. My hope is that we can focus on what unites us in the goal! Both the Protestant and Catholic community can work together to fulfill the great vision of Young Life - every kid, everywhere, for eternity. My life is just one example of how both communities can work together.

My purpose is that they may be encouraged in heart and united in love, so that they may have the full riches of complete understanding, in order that they may know the mystery of God, namely, Christ.” ~Colossians 2:2

Marisa, Dave and their newborn baby Katie

"The Other": Lessons for Protestants and Catholics on Forgiveness

One of the biggest obstacles to unity between any groups (be they ethnic, racial, political or religious) is the tendency to de-humanize “the other.”  We have this ugly tendency to consider the outsider, the stranger, the foreigner or the unfamiliar to be somehow less human.  This allows us, in an evil twist of logic, to justify our slander or mistreatment of those who are different from us.  The unthinkable argument used to justify slavery was the claim that people of color were not really people at all, that they were somehow sub-human.  The roots of sexism, even within the Christian tradition, date back to a time when women were considered second-class citizens and even “misbegotten men” who do not possess the image of God. 

While these errors seem so obvious and absurd to us, the Christian family is not exempt from this appalling penchant for dehumanization.   For centuries, Protestants and Catholics have been hurling insults and abuses back in forth in the name of “truth” and “righteousness.”  We trot out the worst and most sensational stories of the other as if to say, “See!  Look at how bad they are.  Can you believe they did that?!  What monsters!” 

In his twenty-five year stint as pope, John Paul II made over 100 official apologies for the wrongs committed by the Catholic Church or individual Catholics.  He apologized to Jews, to women, to the indigenous people of the Americas, to Muslims, to Galileo and to victims of the Inquisition.  Even before he was pope, John Paul II (then Karol Wojtyla) helped craft an extraordinary letter of reconciliation between Polish and German bishops following the atrocities of World War II.  After being brutally persecuted by the invading German army, the letter declared: “We forgive and ask for forgiveness.”[1]

In May of 1981, Pope John Paul II was shot four times in a failed assassination attempt.  The gunman, Mehmet Ali Ağca, was apprehended and sentenced to life in prison.  Moved by the spirit of Jesus, Pope John Paul II visited Mehmet in his cell, embracing him with grace and forgiveness.  They would develop a friendship over the years and the pontiff would frequently ask people to “pray for my brother Ağca whom I have sincerely forgiven.”  John Paul II even visited personally with Ağca’s mother and brother and in 2005 when the pope was on his deathbed, his would-be assassin sent him a letter of well being.  It would seem that relationship with “the other” carries glorious power to overcome any and every divide.

Jesus said, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons [and daughters] of God”(Mt 5:9).  The beautiful scandal of Jesus’ message was to call us beyond our “eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth” mentalities and to embrace the perfection of our heavenly Father who “causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good” alike (Mt 5:45b).  In language plain and simple, Jesus exhorts his followers to do the unimaginable: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you”(Mt 5:44).  Such are the unmistakable marks of a Christian. 

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[1]             Pastoral Letter of the Polish Bishops to Their German Brothers, 1965.

"Let the little children come to me"

In 1873 a baby girl would be born to devout Catholic parents in the province of Normandy, France.  Little Therese Martin was faced with challenges almost immediately.  She suffered a crippling stomach disorder which eventually claimed the lives of four of her siblings.  According to her mother, Therese was like many kids - a little “high-strung” and prone to fits of tantrum.  “She rolls on the floor in despair believing all is lost.  Sometimes she is so overcomes she almost chokes.”[1]  Years later Therese would reflect on her own life, “I was far from being a perfect little girl.”[2] 

At age four she lost her mother to breast cancer, a tragedy that rocked Therese to the core.  When she was only fifteen Therese wanted nothing more than to give her life to Jesus and was admitted as a nun into a secluded Carmelite community at Lisieux.  There she lived in relative obscurity, in keeping with her desire to be “unknown,” charting a spiritual path that would inspire millions around the world despite her untimely death in 1897.  She was only 24. 

Today many Christians, both Catholic and Protestant, consider Therese of Lisieux to be one of the greatest saints of modern times.  Icons of the faith like Mother Teresa, Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton and Jean Vanier were ardent devotees of St. Theresa who was to be affectionately named “The Little Flower of Jesus.”  Not because she wrote important books or held lofty positions, Therese was known for her “little way,” a childlike way of simplicity, humility and complete abandonment to God. 

She once wrote a prayer and kept it in a small container that she pinned over her heart.  The prayer simply read, “Make me resemble you, Jesus!”  Reflecting on the words of her Savior she wrote:

Leaving to great souls, to great minds, the beautiful books I cannot understand, I rejoice to be little because 'only children, and those who are like them, will be admitted to the heavenly banquet.'

Therese’ life was touched dramatically on Christmas Eve in 1886, an event she would later call her "complete conversion." "On that blessed night,” she wrote, “Jesus, who saw fit to make Himself a child out of love for me, saw fit to have me come forth from the swaddling clothes and imperfections of childhood."[3] She may have entered into adulthood that night, but she never left her child-like simplicity and all-consuming trust in Jesus. 

For me, prayer is a movement of the heart; it is a simple glance toward Heaven. . . which expands my soul and unites me to Jesus. . . . I have not the courage to look through books for beautiful prayers.... I do like a child who does not know how to read; I say very simply to God what I want to say, and He always understands me.[4]

“Lord, give us the teenagers,” Jim Rayburn prayed, “each one at least long enough for a meaningful confrontation with Thee.”[5]  Though they may be simple, unpolished, rebellious and raw - bring us the teenagers who, like Teresa the “Little Flower of Jesus,” have a God who listens and understands.

Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them,

for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."

Mt 19:14

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[1]             Pierre Descouvemont, Therese and Lisieux, Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1996, 24.

[2]             Guy Gaucher, Spiritual Journey of Therese of Lisieux, London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 1987, 19

[3]             Joan Monahan, Thérèse of Lisieux: Missionary of Love, Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2003, 54.

[4]             Clarke, John O.C.D. trans. The Story of a Soul: The Autobiography of St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus, 3rd Edition (Washington DC: Institute of Carmelite Studies, 1996, p. 207

[5]             Kit Sublett (editor), The Diaries of Jim Rayburn, Colorado Springs, CO:  Morningstar Press, 2008, xx.

A Message from the Counter-Reformation

The Jesuit order, also known as the Society of Jesus, was created in 1540 amidst the tumult and intrigue of the Protestant Reformation.  Its founder, Ignatius of Loyola, was a swashbuckling Spaniard given more to womanizing and chivalry than God until a cannonball ripped through his leg in an ill-fought battle in Pamplona, an event which was to change his life, and the Church universal, forever.

Weeks later in Loyola, lying invalid and enduring the pain of a butchered leg, the staid soldier sought gallant literature to buoy his spirits - tales of dangerous medieval duels and amorous affairs, anything to take his mind off the pain.  Yet the house yielded only two auspicious volumes – Vita Jesu Christi by Ludolph of Saxony and Flos Sanctorum by Jacopo da Varazze[1].  These two saintly manuscripts on the life of Christ and the saints strangely seized his imagination and prompted a profound religious conversion.  That was 1521, the year that Martin Luther was excommunicated from the Catholic Church.

Though mere mention of the word “Jesuit” often beckons the fierce theological battles of the Counter-Reformation, Ignatius of Loyola, once a ferocious fighter, was now a man of humility and grace.  He now marched under the banner of the Cross, laying down his arms and his ego in deference to the suffering Servant.  In a letter to his Jesuit brothers participating in the Council of Trent, an ecumenical council embroiled in some of the most heated Catholic-Protestant debates in history, Ignatius offered the following advice:

Be slow to speak.  Be considerate and kind.

Be slow to speak, and only after having first listened quietly, so that you may understand the meaning, leanings and wishes of those who speak.

When in discussion, I should consider the reasons on both sides without showing any attachment to my own opinion, and try to avoid bringing dissatisfaction to anyone.

Move as many as possible to prayer and devotion.  Pray and lead others to prayer.

Awaken in souls a thorough knowledge of themselves and a love of their Creator and Lord.[2]

As we lead and minister together, Protestants and Catholics alike would be graced to follow such godly advice.  Let our love and humility awaken the souls of even our most hardened adversaries and set us on a similar course of reconciliation and union in Christ Jesus. 

"All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because,

God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble."

1 Peter 5:5

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[1]             These two popular medieval texts were to have a profound influence not only on the spiritual development of young Iñigo but on the very structure and topical composition of the Spiritual Exercises, Ignatius’ most prominent and enduring work.  Like Ludolph’s Vita, the Spiritual Exercises charts a 30,000 ft. view of redemptive history, from trinitarian effulgence and creation to the final judgment.  Akin to the evangelical vision of Young Life, the core of Ignatian spirituality rests upon a particular meta-narrative: God’s salvific plan and the human faculty of freedom to discern and live into that plan toward the salvation of one’s soul.

[2]             Letter from Saint Ignatius Loyola to the Fathers Attending the Council of Trent, 1546.

Young Life and the Little Brothers and Sisters of Jesus

Charles de Foucauld was a lot like the kids we work with every day.  He was dealt some tough cards.  He was orphaned at the age of six.  Without care and support, he was easily tempted by base pleasures and easy living.  He lost his faith in adolescence.  And he was no stranger to failure.  Indifferent about school, he failed as a student.  Following in the footsteps of his grandfather who raised him he sought a career in the military but was kicked out.  He had little direction. 

Then he met Jesus Christ.  In a tale all too eerily similar to my own, he was dramatically impacted by the piety of simple Muslims in Morocco and fell headlong back in love with Jesus and his Catholic faith.  His life would never be the same.

Inspired by the witness of Jesus Christ, Foucauld committed his life to poverty, service and solidarity with the lost.  He became a priest and set out to embody the humble life of his Savior.  Setting up camp in a remote oasis in the Algerian desert, Foucauld spent the rest of his life establishing a “ministry of presence” among the poor and oppressed.  “Let us mingle with them,” he said.  “Let us be one of them.”    

He was eventually killed in that remote village by Taureg rebels who misunderstood him.  His plan to start a society of “Little Brothers” who would follow him and the example of Jesus did not come to fruition.  It seemed as if he failed yet again. 

Seventeen years after his death, however, four companions inspired by the humble life of Charles de Foucauld left their comfortable worlds and headed into the Sahara Desert.  Though he was not alive to see it, the Little Brothers of Jesus was formed and Foucauld’s dream had come true. 

All over the world, in forgotten corners that we'll never know about, multitudes of Little Brothers (and now Sisters) of Jesus labor quietly among the lost and marginalized today.  Surely the words of their founder, someone they never met, ring out daily in their heads, “The whole of our existence, the whole of our lives should cry the Gospel from the rooftops. . .not by our words but by our lives.”

Sounds a lot like Young Life.