Michael Kelly
An elderly priest – long since gone to his reward – once recounted a story to me about his time as an ecclesiastical inspector. What we now call a religious education advisor, his job was to tour schools ensuring that children were properly prepared for the reception of the sacraments.
On the whole my priest raconteur spoke glowingly about how hard the teachers worked to impart the Faith to the young people. Though on more than one occasion, he recalls the anxious anticipation of a teacher when the priest would ask a question of a pupil who had, perhaps, not been as assiduous as he or she might have been in paying attention in religion class.
We can become cranky, overly-defensive and preachy with the wider society where many people choose to live their lives as if God doesn’t exist”
He told me of one particular episode when he asked a question of a boy who evidently didn’t know the answer but instead moved the conversation on to the dog the boy had noticed in the priest’s car. “What’s your dog called, Father?” the lad enquired. An old-hand, the priest knew when someone was trying to divert him so not to be out done he said to the boy: “Did Jesus have a dog, Tommy?” Quick as a flash the boy replied, “Oh, no Father”. Surprised by the speed of the reply, the priest pressed the boy about how he knew with such certainty.
“If Jesus had a dog, Father, it would’ve been there at Calvary – and the Bible doesn’t mention that,” he said.
The boys understanding of canine fidelity and his belief that a dog would not have abandoned the Lord at the darkest hour impressed the priest and the teacher breathed a sigh of relief.
Rigour
In introducing his Jesus of Nazareth trilogy some years ago, Benedict XVI reminded readers that in essence Christianity is little more than friendship with God. It wasn’t that Benedict – one of the foremost minds in Europe – was dismissing intellectual rigour, he was pointing to the fact that rigour can sometimes lead us away from a Faith experience with the Risen Christ to an arid dogmatism that becomes obsessed with formulations and proofs.
In the proclamation of the Gospel, goodness always comes before truth and beauty for it is in simple acts of kindness and charity that one sees the Faith vividly lived. Goodness, of course, is not exclusive to Christians so in any kerygmatic sense beauty and truth are the obvious next steps.
It is often hard to live this evangelical key in a culture that is often deaf to the more difficult tenets of the Christian faith. We can become cranky, overly-defensive and preachy with the wider society where many people choose to live their lives as if God doesn’t exist. But, it is in moments like this – moments of exile – where Christians must strive even harder to show the face of Christ to a jaded world.
Speaking at the weekend, Pope Francis told pilgrims in St Peter’s Square that often we are tempted “to believe in a God who is more rigorous than merciful, who defeats evil with power rather than forgiveness.
“But it’s not so,” the Pontiff said, “God saves with love, not force – he proposes, not imposes”.
In the proclamation of the Gospel, goodness always comes before truth and beauty for it is in simple acts of kindness and charity that one sees the Faith vividly lived”
The God revealed to us in Jesus Christ is not a God of vengeance who punishes his people. He is not a capricious judge indifferent to human suffering, he is a God who became human and accompanies us through life.
In our impatience with our own weaknesses and a sinful world, we cannot lose sight of this.
Only the God who reveals himself to us will attract a world that often appears indifferent. An image of God fashioned by our own prejudices and obsessions will only seek to further alienate people.