Читать книгу Being Catholic Today - Laurence McTaggart - Страница 9

So, what does it mean to be catholic? What does it mean to be Catholic? Is there a difference? And why should it matter anyway? We have just met three people with different answers to all those questions. For the anguished clergyman, to be Catholic is to have beliefs that can be traced back to the apostolic church of the first century and to the words of Jesus. For the angry father, it is to belong to an organization established by Christ, and to keep the commandments it has given in his name. For the delinquent, it is to know that the Church is there, and that this means that God is with him somehow. The father would say that the vicar is catholic, perhaps, but not Catholic; the vicar would say that the father holds on to superstitions that have nothing to do with pure Catholicism; Ian, if he could articulate his thought, would say that both are stuck in irrelevant sidelines.

Jesus gives us a fairly hefty clue to our dilemma:

Go and learn the meaning of the words: I want mercy and not sacrifice. Indeed, I have come to call the righteous, not sinners.

Matthew 9:13

I’m sorry, I’ll read that again:

Go and learn the meaning of the words: I want mercy and not sacrifice. Indeed, I have come to call not the righteous, but sinners.

It is surely possible to assume that being Catholic is something to do with answering that call. My three acquaintances would each acknowledge that. Every catholic, or Catholic, is motivated by the call of Christ to follow him, or else they are not Catholic, or even catholic, at all. This does not mean that the call leads only into the Roman Catholic Church, and that people outside are not called, or do not respond fully to that call. Nor is it to say that, if the ‘call’ is there, it does not matter about how you act or think or what you believe, and certainly not whether you belong to any particular ‘visible’ church. Such questions lie ahead of us.

But Jesus’ words imply a set of priorities. The context of the saying is important. He has been asked by the Pharisees why he eats with ‘tax collectors and sinners’. Tax collectors were in the employ of the occupying Romans, and thus doubly unpopular as traitors to their nation and its religion. Pharisees aimed to keep the Law of Moses and the various Jewish traditions in their entirety. A sinner was, in the view of the Pharisees, anybody who was not a Pharisee. There are plenty of sinners around today, and also no lack of Pharisees. Which are you? Or are you a bit of both?

Here is a simple and relatively harmless example, but a surprisingly common one. A lady comes to confession. She doesn’t have much to mention, a few cross words and the like. But she failed to go to Mass for three Sundays in a row. She knows this is so bad, she thinks it is a mortal sin. It is tempting to comfort her: ‘Lots of people don’t go to Mass at all for years, most people miss from time to time.’ But that would be wrong because, for her, this clearly matters. So, I ask why she stayed away, and am shocked to the core by her answer. I am shocked because it reveals a far greater, more deadly fault. She missed Mass because she was confined to bed by influenza. Maybe one should laugh, tell her not to be so silly; how can you be expected to go to Mass if you are ill? After all, the sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath.

But that is the greater fault, and I stand indicted, along with all of you and the whole Church. This simple, obvious, common-sense message that we are only expected to attend Sunday Mass if it is physically and morally possible has been obscured. How? And why? The answer is manifold.

A ‘liberal’ might say that the Church has become full of legalistic misunderstandings. Following church rules is invested with a kind of magic: do this, and you will be all right. Jesus has some tough things to say about people who rely on external observances, and about those teachers who lay heavy burdens on the poor in spirit. It is only now, one might say, after the Second Vatican Council, that we are recovering the real intentions of Christ, losing the sterile additions, superstitions and clericalism of the Middle Ages and Counter-Reformation, and so coming to a true freedom. The hierarchy resists this, at the price of making old ladies think they will go to hell if they have the flu, and thus miss Mass.

That is an absurd overstatement, but you might know Catholics who would hold it. Nor is the position far off stating the fears of ‘conservatives’ who, after the Second Vatican Council, have seen so much bewildering change. One old priest told me that he thought John Paul II has done a fine job of teaching, that the task of the next Pope will be to enforce that teaching. ‘Enforce’ is a word of the ‘bad old days’ for some, and for others a hope of the future.

One hope I have for this book is that you as the reader will be able to see the rules and practices in context, and in proportion. If that sounds a bit too ‘liberal’ to you, then reflect that it is often easier to follow instructions when you know what they mean. So let’s start with a basic statement of what the Church is for, and from an impeccable source:

Christ…united himself with each person. The Church therefore sees its fundamental task in enabling that union to be brought about and renewed continually. The Church wishes to serve this single end: that each person may be able to find Christ, in order that Christ may walk with each person the path of life, with the power of the truth about humanity and the world that is contained in the mystery of the Incarnation and the Redemption and with the power of the love that is radiated by that truth.

John Paul II, Redemptor Hominis. 13