17 frequently asked questions about Lent
Posted by Nick
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Posted by Nick
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Posted by Rita Ferrone
Today’s readings (the third Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C) are outstanding for many reasons, but what struck me most of all is how they seemed to be speaking pointedly about things we do in the catechumenate.
Some of you may be puzzled to hear me say this. But think about it. These scripture passages for this Sunday are talking about… well, us.
You see what I mean. In fact, you could write the rest of this post yourself. But here’s the rest of my thought.
For the record, let me emphasize that I’m NOT seriously suggesting we create a “Catechumenate Sunday” like we have “Catechetical Sunday” or “Catholic Schools Week.” Heaven forbid. No, every Sunday is Catechumenate Sunday as far as the Church is concerned!
But it is good now and then to notice how thoroughly and well the central themes and institutions of the RCIA correspond to what we hear in the Sunday Word of both Old and New Testaments. That Word is “fulfilled in our hearing” in the very practices of Christian initiation, when we follow the vision of the rite.
One last item. RCIA catechists and team people, here’s a question for you, sparked by this Sunday’s readings: How many of you used Minor Exorcism H (found at RCIA #94) in praying with your catechumens today? This beautiful prayer is based on today’s Gospel reading.
If you haven’t discovered it yet, you might want to look it up in your ritual text and put a marker in that page for future reference. In my opinion, it’s one of the loveliest prayers of the Minor Rites. (I’ve reproduced it here, for your convenience.)
Lord Jesus Christ,
sent by the Father and anointed by the Spirit,
when you read in the synagogue at Nazareth
you fulfilled the words of the prophet Isaiah
that proclaimed liberty to captives
and announced a season of forgiveness.
We pray for these your servants
who have opened their ears and hearts to your word.
Grant that they may grasp your moment of grace.
Do not let their minds be troubled
or their lives tied to earthly desires.
Do not let them remain
estranged from the hope of your promises
or enslaved by a spirit of unbelief.
Rather, let them believe in you,
whom the Father has established as universal Lord
and to whom he has subjected all things.
Let them submit themselves to the Spirit of grace,
so that, with hope in their calling,
they may join the priestly people
and share in the abundant joy of the new Jerusalem,
where you live and reign for ever and ever.
Amen.
Happy Sunday, everyone!
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Posted by Diana
There is a great and somewhat ironic convergence happening in our calendars. In the midst of the earthquake that struck Haiti on January 13, 2010, the Church celebrated National Migration Week (January 3-9), starting on the Feast of the Epiphany, a week when it focused on the situation of migrants and refugees. The Church also celebrated Vocations Awareness Week (January 10-16), starting with the Baptism of the Lord, as it reminded all the faithful of its call to holiness expressed in lay, religious, and ordained life. And next week, the Church marks the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity (January 18-25), ending with the Feast of the Conversion of Saint Paul. The theme of this year’s week of prayer is “You Are Witnesses of These Things,” from Luke 24:48. And finally, January 15 is the birthday of Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., whose holiday the United States marks this Monday.
What does the crossing of all these “memorials” mean? What are we being witnesses to these full days?
I don’t know that I have an answer to that. But all these events give me so much to reflect on, and the juxtapositions of the annual celebrations draw new light on what is happening in our world today. In Haiti, we witness a nightmare. I still can’t not be moved to tears whenever I watch the news or listen to another report. Yet in the streets of Haiti, there is hope and faith and even joy. They dance and sing even as they weep. They rejoice at the rescue of one even as so many dead line the streets.
A man, whose leg was pinned down under a fallen wall for two days, was given a microphone by the news crew filming his rescue. As people chiseled stone away from his leg and used blowtorches to cut metal, the man spoke of his faith in God. “I am a Christian,” he said, “so I say, ‘Jesus, my life is in your hands.’”
Not knowing his fate, this man relied on the promise of Christ. Amid the nightmare in Haiti, he dreamed the vision of the Spirit: Isaiah’s vision of peoples of every race and nation coming together to Jerusalem, the vision of a dove and a voice descending from heaven upon God’s beloved, the vision of healing amid division and hope for the outcast and persecuted.
We, Christians, are dreamers, dancing and weeping all at the same time, for although we find suffering on earth, we are citizens of a new heaven and a new earth. Yet our dreams are not fanciful thoughts of a world far away. Our dreams are made real every Sunday, at the table of Word and Eucharist. This is our faith. This is what we witness in Haiti. We are proud to profess it in Christ Jesus, our Lord.
A Prayer for Dreamers
January 18, 2010, is the national holiday in honor of Martin Luther King, Jr. It is also the 16th annual King Day of Service, instituted by the U.S. Congress as a day of volunteer service, turning community concerns into citizen action.
God of our waking and our sleeping,
in every age,
you have spoken to your prophets
in dreams and visions
and have promised that
our sons and daughters shall prophesy
through your Spirit.
Through the dreams of young Joseph,
you saved your people from famine.
In the visions of King Solomon,
you blessed your land with wisdom.
Because of dreams,
aged Joseph acted quickly
to protect your only Son from harm.
And through the revelation announced to Mary,
you brought forth a new King and a new dream
for all the world to witness.
Bless those who continue to seek you in dreams.
Open their ears to hear you in their visions,
loosen their tongues to speak your word,
strengthen their hands to respond swiftly in action,
and embolden their hearts that what they hear in the dark
they may proclaim in the light.
Make us all dreamers who tirelessly pursue
the vision of your Kingdom.
We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Copyright © 2009, Diana Macalintal. This prayer originally appeared in Today’s Parish, January-February 2009, 42:1.
Posted by Nick
Diana Macalintal and I will be copresenting a workshop in Orlando this weekend at the Fashion Me a People conference. Our topic is the Liturgy of the Word as a source of catechesis. Our goal is to help participants learn techniques for drawing out and extending the catechetical content of the Liturgy of the Word. We also hope they will learn how to grow more aware of the mystery of revelation that infuses the living Word of God.
We’re going to base the workshop on the opening liturgy of the conference. Now here’s the tricky part. We don’t know what the liturgy will entail. We don’t know the music, the readings, the structure of the rite, or the prayers that will be prayed. So how can we possibly create a “catechesis” based on the prayer?
There are two ways to understand the process of catechesis. The most common is to equate catechesis with education. Resources abound for those who want to catechize from a classroom model. The models can be set up in a scope and sequence format, and teachers can very efficiently plan out the content of their classes for the upcoming semester.
However, a more traditional understanding of catechesis is to see it as a process of entering into the mystery of Christ. The liturgy is the primary way in which we enter into the paschal mystery. And catechesis is a deep, systematic reflection on that paschal encounter with Christ.
So, from that perspective, we cannot determine ahead of time what the content of our catechesis will be this weekend. We cannot do so because we have not yet had this weekend’s encounter with the mystery of Christ along with all our brothers and sisters who will be gathered in Orlando.
If Christ is really present in his word and really present in the gathered assembly of believers, we should learn a powerful lesson from our encounter with that Presence this weekend. I’m looking forward to finding out what it is.
Posted by Nick
For Christmas, a friend gave me The Complete Robuchon, which is 800 recipes for “French home cooking for the way we live now.” My friend and I both love to cook, although she is much more serious about it than I am. She takes classes from important chefs, stocks her pantry with sea salts from around the world, and has more All-Clad pans than some women have shoes. Still, she gave me this very serious cookbook as “re-gift” because, she said, I’m more of an artist than she is in the kitchen. And this is a book about art.
You’ll have to come over for dinner some night to determine which of us is more the artist. I thought her comment was odd, though, because I’m what folks call a “recipe cook.” Because she is better trained than I am, my friend can whip up wonderful meals without a cookbook in sight. I’m constantly double-checking myself against the “experts” as I cook. Whether you wing it or cook by the book, however, Joel Robuchon says something important about “the art of eating”:
Proper nourishment calls for a certain balance, within each meal and from one to the next. To be healthy, then, as well as engaged by the singular pleasure of eating, we must all find ways of varying what we eat. We may think of meat or fish as the center of a meal, but fruit, vegetables, dairy products, and grains should find their way to the table whenever we sit down to eat. The proportions may vary according to individual tastes and nutritional requirements, but no single food alone makes a satisfying meal.
He then goes on to explain the intangibles that go into the art of, not eating, but feeding others:
- You must first of all avoid overwhelming them, especially with heavy dishes served from beginning to end.
- At the same time, try to find something that will tie the whole meal together such as a common flavor note struck in several courses.
- You must also take into consideration your guests’ tastes, inevitable allergies, and religious requirements.
- Don’t forget that you will want to spend some time with your friends or family, away from the kitchen.
- The finest meals are planned with the season in mind….
I know you won’t be shocked when I tell you I think this is very similar to how we should think of our formation efforts. If we think of formation as meal-sharing, we can learn a lot. You can be a “recipe cook” when it comes to formation and still be an artist. The key is balance—and keeping the needs of your guests at the forefront of your planning. There is no one form of catechesis that is going to be satisfying. You need to vary what you are feeding the catechumens. Specifically:
The thing that moves this method of formation beyond recipe and into art is knowing when to put down the book and take up the relationship. An artist doesn’t put a meal on the table just because some French chef said this tastes good with that. An artist starts with the question—what would my friends like to eat? What would delight them? What would feed not just their stomachs, but their spirits as well? What would make them leave the table completely satisfied and at the same time longing for so much more?
If we can serve up that kind of dish for the catechumens, we’ll all be artists of faith.
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Posted by Nick
You might think the week after Christmas Day is a little early to be talking about emptying the baptismal font. Actually, it’s late. I walked into a local church during the fourth week of Advent to see what they had done with their environment. You guessed it. The baptismal font was bone dry and covered with a purple cloth.
So I’m on a mission. I’m asking all my friends to pledge never to empty their baptismal fonts again. And let’s all get T-shirts that say: “Friends don’t let friends drain fonts.” Why is this such a big deal? Here are seven reasons.
When otherwise-pastoral people empty the font in Lent, the argument goes something like this. Jesus went into the desert for 40 days. There is no water in the desert. So we shouldn’t have water in our churches while Jesus is in the desert. Okay, here’s the thing. Jesus isn’t in the desert. Hasn’t been in the desert for 2,000 years. Isn’t ever going back to the desert. Jesus has transcended the desert and all the deprivation and desolation the desert symbolizes. Where is Jesus present? Truly, really present? In the primary symbols of the assembly of disciples gathered for worship: bread, wine, altar, word, oil, fire, and…water. Lent is not a time machine that takes us back to when Jesus was absent for 40 days. As for what might be the pastoral justification for emptying the font in Advent, I haven’t a clue. But whatever it is, it doesn’t override the necessity of having baptismal water lavishly present when the assembly gathers for worship.
Everything present—or absent—in the liturgy catechizes. What water teaches us is that we are a people who have died to ourselves and risen to new life. Every time we enter a church and cross ourselves with the saving waters of baptism, we teach ourselves, our children, and our catechumens that we will never die. To remove that life-giving water says that our baptism was not everlasting and eternal. We are teaching that our salvation is seasonal and occasional.
One of the arguments for removing the water from the font in Lent is that Lent is a season for fasting. So some say that it makes sense to fast from water. Really? Maybe in some gnositc universe. But in Christianity—or even just in the ordinary material universe—water means life. No water means death. When we fast, we don’t fast from things that are good for us. We fast from temptations, from indulgences, from all that masters us that is not God.
About ten years ago, somebody got tired of dipping his fingers into a font full of sand every Lent, and so he faxed a “What up?” to the Vatican. The Congregation for Divine Worship wrote back saying, “This is what you Americans spend your time on?” Well, they didn’t say that exactly, but they did say that an empty font “is contrary to a balanced understanding of the season Lent….” A balanced understanding, they said, recognizes that, in addition to being a season of penance, Lent “is also a season rich in the symbolism of water and baptism, constantly evoked in liturgical texts.”
Related to the issue of balance noted by the CDW, the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy reminded us that Lent has a two-part character.
This is the best book available for understanding the vision of the Constitu- tion on the Sacred LiturgyBy recalling or preparing for baptism and by repentance, this season disposes the faithful…to celebrate the paschal mystery. The baptismal and penitential aspects of Lent are to be given greater prominence in both the liturgy and liturgical catechesis. Hence, more use is to be made of the baptismal features proper to the Lenten liturgy. (109)
And why would we want to make more use of the baptismal features of Lent? Because we have a whole group of people (the elect) preparing for baptism—the very purpose of Lent. So instead of draining the font, we should be filling it to the brim.
When we celebrate a funeral, we are celebrating a life lived in baptismal grace. A powerful symbol of that baptismal life is blessing the casket with living water. It is hard to see living water in a sprinkler that an acolyte retrieves from the sacristy closet. The water for blessing the casket should come from the same place in which we baptize—even in Lent. Especially in Lent.
That’s what I experienced in my church visit during Advent. Because some parishes have been emptying the font during the lenten season, one community, at lease, decided that more is better. Let’s have a dry font for both Lent and Advent. Next we may have empty fonts on rogation days or First Fridays. So let’s just stop the shenanigans now, before things get worse.
Remember: “Friends don’t let friends drain fonts.”
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Posted by Nick
This is a guest post from Father Robert Duggan. It’s one of the longer posts we’ve featured on the site, but it is well worth your time.
Father Bob is a presbyter of the Archdiocese of Washington, DC, and a frequent speaker and author on topics related to Christian initiation and liturgical and sacramental renewal.
You’ve probably heard people say the RCIA is a “process, not a program.” But what does that really mean?
The Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults is an extremely provocative document. The pastoral efforts to implement the RCIA in the United States were undertaken by a grassroots movement of pastoral workers and theologians who were left to their own resources. There was no national leadership, in the beginning, to guide them. Without this grassroots movement, the RCIA might easily have been ignored as a text “meant for missionary lands.”
Recall that this document came from Rome as one of the last revised texts developed in response to the Second Vatican Council’s call for renewal. By the time the RCIA was issued and translated into vernacular languages, the “reform the reform” folks in the Roman Curia and elsewhere were already attempting to blunt the spirit of liturgical renewal that had so inspired an entire generation. There was a fatigue abroad in the land, a pastoral exhaustion, after having tried to assimilate so many liturgical changes in such a short time. The bishops didn’t have the stomach to expend any more energy taking this obscure document in hand and helping the church entrusted to their care to implement what to them seemed like a marginal document at best.
However, a few theologians and pastoral leaders understood the significance of the RCIA and saw it as a providential instrument of the Spirit—a way to further implement a Vatican II ecclesiology that was rapidly being shut down by post-conciliar, reactionary forces. Those who understood the significance of the rite include people like Aidan Kavanagh, Christiane Brusselmans, Mark Searle, and Jim Dunning.
These prophetic voices insisted that the faith of the church is shaped by the church at prayer and that pastoral structures, Canon Law, etc., should take their inspiration from the church’s distinctive experience of God that is centered in our liturgy. They discerned in the rite a renewed ecclesiology, a renewed pastoral agenda. They discerned, in short, an operative version of the renewal that Vatican II had called for. At the core of this vision of church was an understanding that the intentional faith nurtured in the catechumenate is the norm that should be followed by all Catholics. It was a radical attempt to articulate an alternative to the cultural Catholicism that has defined membership since Constantine’s embrace of Christianity as the state religion (I exaggerate, I know!).
Essential to the integrity of this vision is an understanding of conversion that is multifaceted, progressive, and lifelong—conversion that is experienced and nurtured in the formative dimensions of the catechumenate spelled out in paragraph 75 of the RCIA.
I number myself among those who found these prophetic figures convincing and who saw in the implementation of the RCIA an opportunity to continue to work for the vision of Vatican II’s renewal that has been increasingly under siege. The North American Forum on the Catechumenate provided a structure around which like-minded people gathered and worked to implement the RCIA. Many of us who appear(ed) “purists” were/are convinced that implementing the RCIA faithfully is an important way to insure that the leaven of renewal remains deeply embedded in the church at the local level.
However, what we found over the past three decades of doing workshops and other training around the country is that American pragmatism wants to take a very complex and demanding pastoral challenge (i.e., implementing the rite properly) and figure out ways to do it more easily and quickly.
Read the rest of this entry »
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Posted by Nick
Take a look at Sr. Miriam Malone’s invitation to a one-hour, live training workshop to answer these questions and more.
Click here here for more information and to register for the workshop. 60% off the registration fee if you act before January 1, 2010.
Posted by Nick
I have a friend who, for 35 years, successfully resisted all attempts to promote her to a management position in her company. She loves her work, but she did not relish the idea of supervising other people. A couple of years ago, her boss finally convinced her to move up the ladder. And last week, for the first time in her life, she had to fire an employee—an employee she had hired.
There are some lessons in my friend’s story for discerning the readiness of catechumens for the Rite of Election. The first lesson is, who is qualified to discern?
My friend did not want to be a manager because she did not think she had the gift for it. What is actually true is, she is a very gifted manager. She did not want the responsibility of management. She did not want to be the person who decided who gets hired, who gets a raise, who gets put on probation, and who gets fired. That dynamic happens in many catechumenate teams. We often avoid any formal discernment process with the catechumens because none of us wants to be the decision maker. It’s much easier to have a kind of default catechumenate. Everyone who shows up gets baptized (or received into full Communion) just by virtue of coming to a minimum number of catechetical sessions.
If that’s true with your team, it’s time to promote someone. Discernment is not the sole responsibility of a single person. When my friend had to fire her employee, she did not make the decision alone. But she did make the decision. And she delivered the bad news. Someone on your team needs to make the final decision and be the lead person in a formal discernment process with the catechumen.
What kind of person should you promote to this position? The reason my friend got promoted is, she’s a natural leader. Even before she was a manager, she was a voice that everyone in her company listened to. People listen to her because she is an expert at her job and knows more about it than most people who work there. She also has a deep passion for the success of others. She invests a lot of time and energy in helping colleagues and customers accomplish their goals. Is there someone like that on your team?

My friend is not a lone ranger. Before she fired her employee, she consulted some of the employee’s coworkers about the quality of the work being done. She consulted with customers about their satisfaction. She examined the employee’s work records and reports. She went over everything with her own boss and asked for guidance. So even though my friend was the one who did the hiring and firing, it was a “team” effort. The person you select as a discernment minister must be very good at collaboration.
My friend is also a deeply spiritual person. Spiritual depth is not a requirement for her work, but her faith does make her a better manager. She prays about every important decision she has to make, and she has faith that, even when she has to fire someone, she is acting in that person’s best interest. A discernment leader on your team must be a person of prayer.
Secular management and spiritual discernment are not the same thing, obviously. You’re never going to fire a catechumen. But you may have to delay a catechumen’s next step into becoming one of the elect. In some cases, that decision and the resulting conversation can be as stressful as firing an employee. Â Just as my friend resisted becoming a manager so she wouldn’t have to make the tough calls, we sometimes let catechumens slide by so we won’t have to make the tough call either. As my friend’s boss pointed out to her, however, the question is not what’s best for you. The question is what’s best for everyone.
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Posted by Nick
With catechumens, there are two kinds of discernment. There is an ongoing discernment that begins the moment the seekers become catechumens. And there is at least one formal discernment to determine if the catechumen is ready to celebrate the Rite of Election.
Honestly, I don’t use the word discernment all that much when I’m working with catechumens. It has a bit of a mystical tone to it. And, because it’s not a word most seekers use in their own conversation, it can sound special. As though you have to have special knowledge or special training to discern. With catechumens, I’m more likely to speak about “change” or “difference.” I ask them to pay attention to the changes in their lives as they learn to live the way of faith. Periodically, I ask them what’s different about their life now from before. The answers they give—to me, to their catechists, to their sponsors, and to themselves—are what make up the ongoing discernment process. By asking them to notice the changes, I’m attempting to make the catechumens responsible for their own discernment. If they can begin to choose (discern) actions that reflect the Christian way of living in the world, they will become active participants in their own formation process. Of course, if they are not making these choices, that is also discernment. They are discerning that they are not yet ready to respond to the promptings of the Holy Spirit.
Years ago, when I lived in another place, I volunteered to help with a parish catechumenate team just after Advent had begun. All of the catechumens in that parish had been accepted into the catechumenate about ten days before I met them. And every single one of them already knew they were going to be baptized at the coming Easter Vigil. You could have picked me up off the floor. Of course, what was happening in that parish was not a discernment process. There was, instead, a very tight syllabus of classes. If the catechumens attended all—or even some—of the classes, they were guaranteed a baptism.
What the church requires is something much more profound. Instead of a syllabus, the church requires a systematic initiation into the worship of the Lord. That “system” is the liturgical year—which reveals to us the fullness of the mystery of Christ’s sacrifice. Â So the very first question in a formal discernment process is, has the catechumen entered into the fullness of the mystery of Christ’s sacrifice? That is, has he celebrated the entire liturgical cycle with the worshiping community? All subsequent discernment questions flow from that first one.
If the catechumen is unaware of the full mystery of Christ’s sacrifice—the same sacrifice the catechumen will share in baptism—do any of the other discernment questions really matter?