Sunday, July 24, 2016

Make the Habit

In my studies here at Notre Dame, I had the opportunity to read Imagining the Kingdom: How Worship Works by James K. A. Smith.  The book is full of helpful ideas, though it's lacking in terms of application.  But one of the key ideas contained in it is the necessity of forming habits, or habituses, as Smith calls them.


What's a habitus?  In simple terms, Smith calls it an "embodied know-how," that is, a particular ritual or gesture that we learn through doing, particularly as a part of a community.  For example, as an American, I have learned to say the Pledge of Allegiance and to pay respects to the American flag when the National Anthem is played by placing my hand over my heart.  How do I subconsciously know to do these things at particular times?  Because I was part of communities that taught me to.


What does any of this have to do with worship?  Think about it.  As part of a liturgical community that worships with a series of habituses, doesn't that language become part of your vocabulary? The gestures part of your daily life?  Smith makes the argument that if we are teaching people how to worship then this should be true.  So...why don't we see it?

I think there is a large gap between liturgical instruction and liturgical practice.  That is not to say that I think that Masses should be "teaching Masses," where the priest explains every prayer and gesture before it is done within the context of the sacrifice of the Mass itself.  Rather, life outside of the church (building) should be preparation for worship.  Religious instruction, or catechesis, ought to prepare people to enter into the Mass more fully by helping them to understand why we do what we do.  I think we could say that many people have formed these habituses in their lives by attending Mass with their families throughout the years, and this may indeed be why they still attend Mass.  This is good!  A habitus has been formed.  And even if the person does not fully understand that habitus, we can be sure that this habitus is forming that person in the way that they think, act, and pray.  How do I know that?  Because this is how the habitus works.  I grew up in a house where, every year on Easter morning, we were greeted with the exclamation: "He is risen!" and our response would be "He is risen, indeed!"  Now, whether I acknowledge this or not, or am aware of it or not, it remains true that my prayers during the Easter season often take up this chorus in some way or another; maybe not exactly in its wording; but the thought, the idea, the entrance into the mystery is there.

Now, let's think about the other end of the spectrum.  When particular practices are not familiar to you, and they are taken up by those around you, you're kind of operating in an oblivious and awkward state where you're really not sure what to do with yourself.  It's uncomfortable, awkward, and when you try to participate it feels...well, fake.  I can say this is true from my recent experience, too.  The Notre Dame Fight Song: I've been here for seven weeks and have had not very much exposure to this song, so I don't know the words, or gestures, or anything about what I'm supposed to do when it plays.  So when it's played and everyone sings along, I'm standing there and all I can do is clap because I have no idea what else to do.

Take this principle and apply it to worship: if you went to Mass and saw the priest incensing the altar, and someone asked you what it meant, would you be able to tell them?


If you answered "yes" to that question, it's probably because you were formed in that habitus with an explanation to accompany it.  "We incense the altar because it is an embodiment of our prayers surrounding the altar and rising up to God through Christ's sacrifice."  It reminds us that this is happening, and in some way it makes it real, not in the same way that the Sacraments do (ex opere operato), but in a sacramental manner nonetheless (outward sign symbolizing invisible reality).

But, if you would be as confused at that moment as I am when the Notre Dame Fight Song plays, you probably did not receive much explanation for the habitus.  No one told you why.  But perhaps you accepted it because it was something that you were exposed to for a long time as a member of that community.

And if your answer was: "Incense? What's incense?" then...you probably didn't receive the formation in the habitus or explanation of the habitus.

So there are differing levels in the formation of the habitus.  But that's not the sole point I want to make here.

The Church calls parents the primary catechists in the lives of their children.  Parents.  Not the religion teacher, not the youth minister, not the pastor.  When parents send their children to Catholic schools, or to youth group, or CCD classes, etc., they are fulfilling that role in some respect.  However, I would disagree that this is enough.  This is formation for the habitus, but not usually formation in the habitus.  That is to say, it may explain the whys and hows of the habitus to the child, but it does not always (and sometimes cannot) mean that the habitus is repeated and/or practiced in such a way that it becomes part of the person's daily life.  Or, vice versa: it is formation in the habitus, but no formation surrounding the "why" of the habitus.  In this case, the habitus of the Lord's Prayer might be formed to the point where the child can recite this prayer from memory, but he/she does not know why we pray the Lord's Prayer.  Neither of these is an evil; in fact there are many goods here.  But to conclude that either of these scenarios is enough is problematic.  For, once the child reaches the age of adolescence, what do they begin to do?  They begin to think critically and question everything they have ever done or been told to do.  So what happens when they ask "Why do we say that prayer?" and no one can tell them?  Most likely, since they do not see its worth, and especially if they do not see this practice alive in their own families, then most likely they will leave it at the door of the religion classroom and never use it again.


However, it would be equally mistaken to say that the formation of a habitus is unnecessary, as some people are led to believe.  Catechesis cannot be a purely mental activity.  Why?  Because we are not purely thinking beings.  We are not only spirit; we are also bodily.  We have bodies that are integrated with our soul/spirit in a way that the two cannot be separated from another (until death, and then they will be reunited on the last day at the Resurrection of the Body).  Our bodies must be engaged in worship as much as our minds are.  In fact, at least in my own experience, I find that one tends to lead the other.  If I am really attentive to prayer and desire to fully enter into it, I must assume a posture that allows that, whether that is falling on my knees, bowing my head, folding my hands, spreading my hands apart in an expression of receptivity, etc.  But, at other points, sometimes my mind is elsewhere, distracted by the various concerns of the world.  And sometimes, the only thing that can pull me out of that is to do something physically that directs my mind back to prayer.  Humans are body and spirit, and catechesis must form both in the knowledge and practice of the faith if we want it to permeate the whole person.  



But, in a similar way, we must not try to separate what is done in the religion classroom or catechetical setting from the experiences of daily life.  In other words, if the only place where children (or young people) take up these religious gestures, prayers, and actions is within this setting, then are they truly being formed in Christian life?  Not in the fullest sense.  It must be taken up at home.  Children must be instructed in the faith by their parents if they are going to be able to fully participate in it.  They must see their parents prayer, and be taught to pray by their parents.  They must be taught how to make the Sign of the Cross and how to thank God for His blessings.  They must be taught the significance of a shared meal so that eventually they can come to see the great gift it is to be welcomed to the Table of the Lord where He offers us His very self.  It is also true that when children are instructed in the faith by their parents (and particularly their fathers), they are more likely to continue to practice the faith throughout their lives.  

That Prayer Before Meals that you always said together at Grandma's house was a habitus.  Whether you liked it or not, you did it, and it gradually became a part of your life.  You know that prayer, even today, and you even pray it on your own!  It wasn't just something you learned, it was something you became.  That "embodied know-how" became a part of you, and now it's hard to imagine a dinner together that did not include that prayer.  

That song you always sang at church about "Faith of our fathers, holy faith, we will be true to thee till death," has stuck with you, and you can hardly hear one of the martyrs' stories without thinking of that verse.  


Genuflecting before you sit in your pew at church is normal.  No one gives you funny looks for it.  (But they might if the habitus is so ingrained that sometimes you do it in places where you're not supposed to: e.g. the movie theater. Oops.) 

I think we could be doing a lot more in terms of formation in habituses within the work of catechesis.  So many practices from Catholic tradition have just fallen out of common practice because people don't know what they mean or just are never taught these practices.  But these practices help us to grasp something of the real-ness of our faith: the way that it redeems not just our souls but also our bodies.  Why should we not return to God our thanks and praise for His goodness with our bodies as well as our souls? I conclude that those we catechize should be formed in these kinds of practices. It could be as simple as a holy water font in your classroom (or your home!) and encouraging your students/children to use it, and do so yourself, and explaining to them that we do this as a reminder of our Baptism, by which we have been saved through Jesus' sacrifice on the Cross and His glorious Resurrection.  Teaching them songs, prayers, general practices and postures of prayer; exposing them to art and music from the rich tradition of the Church; reading to them the Lives of the Saints, the stories of Scripture, the Psalms, and other beautiful stories and/or poems.  


The classroom should be a place where students encounter beauty, and find themselves inserted into a story: the story of salvation, which continues all around us every day.  The story is this:  we have been saved from sin by Jesus Christ; will we respond to Him by following Him faithfully? Will we spread the Gospel and invite others to join us on the journey?  This story, when told well, captivates the imagination and inspires wonder.  It makes us desire to be a part of the bigger reality that is all around us every moment.  And the way that we do that is through participation in the life of the Church, particularly through the Sacraments.  

So, if you're a catechist, don't just teach kids about the Mass.  Explain to them one gesture or prayer at a time, and take them to Mass so they can encounter that practice and be formed in it.  If you can, encourage the parents of the children to practice these prayers and gestures with their children at home.  If parents are uncomfortable with doing this because they do not know the prayers and gestures themselves, perhaps you could offer resources that would help them.  Don't allow the faith to remain a surface-level kind of knowledge that is merely another set of facts and theories to memorize and not use again.  Rather, let the faith become something that is so practiced and embodied within the child (and the catechist! above all, the habitus must be borne witness to by the catechist) that a habitus is formed, and formed so deeply that it becomes difficult to even think of life without that habitus.  

Blessings! 
the Itinerant Catechist 

Be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deluding yourselves. 
~James 1:22~


Friday, July 22, 2016

O Greatest Humility




Have you seen this painting before? I hope you have, if only because it's a beautiful painting.  I'm not sure that everyone knows the story of the painting though.  It's obvious that what we have in the picture is a man and woman praying in the midst of their work early in the morning. Notice the church steeple on the horizon.  Millet, the artist, titled this painting The Angelus.  If you're not familiar with this prayer, it is one that has a rich history in the Catholic tradition.  It used to be that every day at 6 a.m., noon, and 6 p.m. the bells of the local church would ring, and everyone, no matter where they were or what they were doing, would pray the Angelus.  It was a moment to recollect and enter into a place of prayer in the midst of the labors of the day.  

But why the Angelus?  What was so significant about this prayer? 

The Angelus is the prayer of the Annunciation to Mary and the Incarnation of Jesus.  It goes like this: 

Leader: The angel of the Lord declared unto Mary
All: And she conceived of/by the Holy Spirit.

Hail Mary.... 

Leader: Behold the handmaid of the Lord,
All: Be it done unto me according to thy word. 

Hail Mary....
Leader: And the word was made flesh, 
All: (bowing or genuflecting) And dwelt among us. 

Hail Mary.... 

Leader: Let us pray.
All: Pour forth, we beseech Thee, O Lord, Thy grace into our hearts, that we to whom the Incarnation of Christ Thy Son was made known by the message of an angel, may by His Passion and Cross be brought to the glory of His Resurrection, through the same Christ our Lord. Amen. 

That this prayer was given such prominence in the daily Christian life in days past speaks a great deal to the significance of the mystery at its center: the mystery of the Incarnation of Jesus, the mystery of the Son of God becoming a man by being conceived, by the power of the Holy Spirit, in the womb of Mary.

The Incarnation of Jesus is one of the most beautiful and central mysteries of the Catholic faith.  While it is more often the Paschal Mystery (the Death and Resurrection of Jesus) that are emphasized, we must not forget that it was the Incarnation that made this greatest sacrifice possible.  But what is the Incarnation?

It's not uncommon that people will confused the Immaculate Conception with the Incarnation.  So let's make that distinction first.  The Immaculate Conception refers to the birth of Mary, the Mother of Jesus, and how she was redeemed by Christ ahead of time so that she was conceived without sin in order to be the pure Ark of the New Covenant.

The Incarnation, as was mentioned before, refers to the moment when Christ was conceived in Mary's virgin womb by the power of the Holy Spirit.  Of course, Jesus was also conceived without sin because He is God.  But it was fitting that God would redeem Mary before the Incarnation and from the moment of her conception, since fallen humanity begets fallen humanity due to the original sin of Adam and Eve which damaged our human nature.  But, furthermore, because Mary was free from original sin and its effects, she was able to make the most free choice to be the Mother of God because she was uninhibited by any characteristics of fallen human nature.  She was as free to say "yes" to God's plan as Adam and Eve were to say "no" to it before the fall.  God could have done this another way if He had chosen to, since He certainly has the power to do so.  But, as St. Thomas Aquinas would say, the way that God chose to become man was fitting.

Fra Angelico's Annunciation

But why does it matter?  It's a sweet, sentimental idea, right? Jesus becomes a little baby and we celebrate it every Christmas with a kind of nostalgic aura.  But to leave the Mystery of the Incarnation at that is to reduce its beauty and power to something much less than the Mystery is by its very nature.

Bishop Robert Barron, when he was still Father Robert Barron, made the connection or Jesus' Incarnation as related in the Gospel of Luke is meant to be like a military narrative of sorts.  This is why he begins his Gospel with details about how this event took place in such-and-such year, under the reign of Emperor Tiberius.  It seems like he's setting up a story of military conquest.  Yet, is the Gospel at all about Emperor Tiberius?  No.  The story transitions immediately into the narrative of Jesus Christ.  What Luke is doing is communicating that Jesus Christ is greater and more glorious than the Roman Emperor, though he has no earthly kingdom or armies, and He died upon a Cross like a common criminal.  Christ, who comes as a helpless infant, who is born in a stable, who is welcomed into the world by only Mary and Joseph and a few shepherds, is worth our attention far more than any leader that history would call "great."  


What is accomplished by this great mystery?  Our salvation begins here.  At the conception of Jesus in the womb of Mary, the hope we await has come incredibly close.  He is in Mary's womb for 9 months, and then He is born into the world on a night like any other, yet so unlike any other because God-become-man is being born!  This plan has been hidden from demons, and theologians speculate that the angels did not know it either until it had happened.  Such a message of hope: 

I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people. 
Unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, Who is Christ the Lord.  

He is here! The salvation of the world has come! The uncrossable void between God and man that was created by the first sin has been bridged by the one who would leave the glory of heaven and be born as a helpless infant.  He becomes like us in all things by sin; He empties Himself to such a degree in order that we might be rescued from our sinful state.  Only the God-man can achieve this.  Why?  Because man could not obtain forgiveness for Himself; it had to be offered to Him by God.  But atonement for the sin was still necessary, and so God became a man in order to be the perfect sacrifice: He is human, so He can offer a sacrifice on behalf of all of humanity; He is God, so He can offer forgiveness to humanity through this sacrifice, and His sacrifice reaches through all of history because the infinite God offers it.  

What I would like to dwell on for a moment is the great humility of God that is revealed in the Incarnation.  

When we think of the humility of God, or even Google images of it, we think of Jesus washing the feet of the disciples, or His ultimate sacrifice on the Cross. 

It is not so often that we think of this moment of His Incarnation and entry into the world as a tremendous expression of the humility of God. 


Ecce humilitatem Dei. 
Behold the humility of God. 


It is this mystery that makes the redemption possible.  Had God not become incarnate, we would not be saved.  He became a tiny, helpless infant, totally reliant on St. Joseph and the Blessed Virgin Mary to care for Him.  He became vulnerable to such a degree as this.  Yet He was still seen as a threat, and so Herod sought His life.  But Joseph, guardian of the Holy Family, protected the Son of God and His Mother, as was the task given to him by God. How beautiful! (There will probably be a post on St. Joseph eventually. He is one of my favorite saints.)  

How amazing the experiences Mary and Joseph had with the Christ child must have been. 
Think about how this little baby, God become man, would wrap His tiny fingers, which fashioned the stars, around the finger of Joseph or Mary. 
How the Word which spoke creation into being humbled Himself to the point of not knowing how to speak, and blessed the chatter of babes by becoming one. 
How the King of kings and Lord of lords was born in the most humble stable, and blessed the tiny dwelling of a few animals with His presence. 
How He was born in a mange in order to show that He would be the food for the world. 
How He was adored by simple shepherds to show that He came for all: from the lowest of men to the highest of kings.  

Here is the mystery that begins the Paschal Mystery, the source of our Redemption.  That we might be redeemed, this first took place, and the Son of God became like us in all things but sin, and was born of a woman.  His birth was not stately.  He came as one Who could be approached, approached without fear but with wonder nonetheless.  

O Holy night, the stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of our dear Savior's birth,
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of old, the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious dawn.
Fall on your knees!
O hear the angel voices!
O night, divine! 
O night, when Christ was born. 

Caravaggio's Adoration of the Shepherds
There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. 
~Isaiah 11:1~
The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. The sucking child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the adder's den. 
~Isaiah 11:6-8~
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given. 
~Isaiah 9:6~
Who has believed what we have heard? And to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed? For he grew up before him like a young plant, and like a root out of dry ground; he had no form or comeliness that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him. 
~Isaiah 53:1-2~
And the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called "Wonderful Counselor, Might God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace." Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, upon the throne of David, and over his kingdom, to establish it, and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and for evermore. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this. 
~Isaiah 9:6-7~
"And this will be a sign for you: you will find a babe wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger."
~Luke 2:12~

Once again, I find myself in awe of this great mystery. May I not live my life the same way as before in light of this knowledge of the mystery of the Incarnation. 

Until we meet again, 
Pace e bene!
the Itinerant Catechist




Tuesday, July 5, 2016

Christ in Contemporary Culture: Doctor Who

There will be a number of posts like this one, I hope, since I have a great affinity for great stories, whether they are written works, films, tv shows, or otherwise. One of my more recent "fandoms" has been Doctor Who. Since last summer, I have watched from the first series (Eccleston) to the seventh series (Smith).  It has been a great adventure! I've laughed, cried, and pondered through episode after episode and I'm anxious to go back and re-watch the seasons and episodes I have enjoyed most (maybe when grad school studies have calmed down...).

I could probably say a lot about my favorite characters, favorite companions (Amy and Rory, but very closely followed by Donna), favorite Doctor (still not 100% decided on that yet, but...I lean towards 11).  It's been wonderful to learn the lingo of the Whovians, and to fall in love with the Doctor and friends. But the reason I'm talking about Doctor Who today is to talk about some of the Catholic values and themes I have found as I've been watching the show.

Above all, I've noticed the theme of value for life. The Doctor is almost never okay with any behavior or practice that does not respect the dignity of life. There have been a number of episodes where there is some sort of experimentation, masked torture, mind control, artificial reproduction technology/cloning, or otherwise relatable issue going on.  And every time, the Doctor shows up on the scene and says: "This is not okay."  The manipulation of life to the benefit of the few is disgusting to him.  Furthermore, whenever said situation turns sour and now the life that the "clever ones" have created begins turning on them in a way they did not expect, of course the "clever ones" think the solution is: let's kill it. But the Doctor never believes this is the first and only solution. The episode that most comes to mind for me in this case is Rebel Flesh (Series 6, episode 5).  If you've not seen it, you might want to skip ahead until you see the next picture of David Tennant.

Premise: an old monastery, functioning as a laboratory, has been "creating" people.  Except they don't really think of them as people. They think of them as resources. They do the dangerous work so that the people they're patterned off of can stay in safety. Inevitably, an accident occurs.  And suddenly, those "resources" aren't so content to be just that.  The separation that once was considered to exist between the clones and the persons they're clones of is suddenly gone.  The clones believe the memories they have are suddenly their own.  But the "originals" are not prepared to handle this. They're not very happy with the idea of other versions of themselves walking around, into their lives and into their homes as if they belonged there. But to the clones, they aren't different people from the "originals." Those homes and memories and families they really believe are their own.  Towards the end of the episode, one of the clones realizes that he is not the father of the "original's" son; but he takes up the role when the true father is killed in an accident.

As a Catholic viewer watching this show, I kept thinking about the Church's teaching about these kinds of technologies. I couldn't help thinking about how the problem presented in this episode communicates the serious issues that cloning presents.  It does not respect life, either of the person being cloned or of the cloned person.  What else is the issue?  Exactly what happens in the episode. Once this clone has a life of its own, what happens? They might not be exactly what the designers had planned them to be. So what do they want to do with them then? Well, they made these lives, so they think that gives them the authority to take life away from them. The Doctor says: "No way." And he'd be right.  While these lives were conceived in a way that is outside of God's plan, now that they're here they are living persons and they have that same dignity that needs to be respected.  You can't just kill them and think that it's not actually a person that is being killed.  The technology being used to artificially create life is something that should have never happened. But it would be a greater evil to destroy those lives now that they have been brought to life.

It's a complicated issue, right?  That's why the Church teaches what it does.  Man has no authority to make calls over who lives and who doesn't.  To give life and to take it away belongs to God alone who is the Author of all life.  When man thinks he does have this kind of authority, not only to rule over life and death, but also to create life in a way that is outside of God's plan, so suddenly the attitude becomes: "we don't need God," and problems inevitably arise.


Another great aspect of Doctor Who (and a heartbreaking one at that) is the Doctor's relationship with his companions.  He knows that their lives will never be the same after traveling with him.  And after Rose, Martha, and Donna (especially Donna) he becomes especially afraid of taking anyone with him because he knows what can happen.  He doesn't take it lightly with an attitude of: "It comes with the territory." He could. But he knows that he bears some responsibility for what happened since he did bring them into the situations that they experience together and these experiences have some serious ramifications. But, throughout these adventures, and after some time spent on his own, the Doctor comes to realize that he can't do it on his own.  It's a lesson in vulnerability.  In the words of C.S. Lewis: "To love at all is to be vulnerable."  I think this is evident in Doctor Who. And I don't mean love in the narrow sense of romantic love. Just look at the Doctor and Donna, one of my favorite Doctor-companion duos.  What is truly refreshing about this series is that there is no romantic interest between Donna and the Doctor. What is there is a good friendship, one that the Doctor truly values. So much so that, I'd say, it leads up to one of the most heartbreaking separations between Doctor and companion. 


And don't even get me started on all of the great quotes in the show that communicate a value for life. 

Too late. 


SPOILER ALERT with this next one. Avert your eyes if you don't know what happens at the end of the fourth series. 

END OF SPOILERS.


I love the show, obviously, and hope to continue watching it. Haven't gotten to Capaldi yet, but hopefully I will soon.  Also, this was kind of a slapdash post, so...there may be more in the future about Doctor Who. In the meantime, I hope finish reading this post and decide it's time to make a cup of tea and cozy up with an episode of the fabulous Doctor Who.  

Until we meet again, 
the Itinerant Catechist 
"Geronimo!"