Connections

It does not always seem so.

A safe statement—I am getting older. And one of the signs for me is a new sense of humility . . . a sense that I might be wrong. About what? Pick a topic: sports teams, matching colors of clothes, how to get from here to there, political issues, church issues, youth ministry approaches, definition of “Catholic,” and the list goes on.

I miss my early days of self-assuredness and self-righteousness. Though some might say that those days have not passed yet, I know that era is definitely receding. It was easier when I was always right. There was less need to listen to others, to engage in discussion, to consider options or opposing opinions. Always being right enabled me to disregard those who thought differently.

I do not know when I started losing that arrogant confidence—but perhaps it is the simple process of living, growing, and aging that serves up experiences that seem to highlight one’s limitations. Parenting does that . . . aging . . . sickness and dying . . . suffering . . . standing at the foot of Mt. Everest.

Gradually there has been a growing realization that there is almost always more than one “right” way to do something and that realization is very freeing—and humbling. There is always more than one “right” way to raise kids, develop a budget, pray, run NCYC, or do strategic planning. We can confuse the ‘means’ and the ‘end,’ forgetting that there are often various means to the same end, which is not to say that the end justifies the means. But self-righteousness causes us to forget that there is almost always more than one right way to do something.

In the post-modern world we are challenged to discern Truth with a capital “T” while being bombarded with a multitude of truths with a small “t”. Truth is certainly bigger than any one of us and no one of us has a monopoly on Truth. It takes all of us together to discern Truth. Perhaps that is why we have four Gospels. One Gospel could not hold the Truth of Jesus. In Acts, the early fights between Peter and Paul were about the Truth of salvation.

And when we ignore the horizontal or communal dimensions of our faith and emphasize only the vertical or personal dimension of faith, we risk a narrowly defined and flawed understanding of Truth, faith, and Catholic.

And more importantly for me, I gradually came to realize that God is bigger than any words I use—and that most theological arguments are about the words we use. We argue for our words, our actions, and our rituals because often that is all we have. And it is in the community of believers as we share our ‘words,’ our experiences, our insights, and our learnings that we grasp how “big” God really is—and how “small” our thinking really is. To argue for one’s words as the only words is to engage in a form of idolatry, because the reality is far greater than any words we use.

It certainly was easier and safer when I was younger. I did not have to grapple with the ambiguity of truth, of love, or of God. Certainty was more important when I was younger because it was safer. I miss those days when I did not have to talk with others—or listen. Sometimes we can even be afraid of sitting at the same table—or on the same dais—with those who think differently, which may be a sign that we are not really certain about our own beliefs. It is challenging to engage in dialogue because dialogue carries within it the seeds of change.

Being part of the universal Catholic Church highlights the challenge. Theology must be in dialogue with the world, reading the signs of the times through the lens of our Tradition. This is not dialogue that leads to relativism; it is dialogue that fosters relevance, characterized by an assumption that those with whom we dialogue are of good will, trying to authentically live out their faith. It is a dilemma. As Catholics we are united in our experience of and belief in the risen Christ, knowing that differences of opinion, emphasis, and understanding have always existed in the church. The words have never been enough to capture the mystery of Christ.

The church is a “big tent”—the biggest of all tents—and in our unity a powerful witness to the Reign of God. Dialogue, not divisiveness, deepens that witness.

So, can we talk? I certainly hope so . . . with generous and open hearts.