I read a blog post today on delegating that has some interesting ideas for busy RCIA team leaders. Sometimes the “leader” is the whole team, and there is no one to delegate tasks to. Michael Hyatt lists seven strategies for distributing or reducing your workload. I’m going to reframe three of them for the work we do.

1. Ask for volunteers

I know you’ve probably done this already without much success. I’m going to suggest you try asking differently. First, write down your most unpleasant task or the one you find to be the biggest burden. Then, break that task apart into smaller pieces. Try to break it down into at least three to five separate parts. Next, make a list of 20 parishioners you know. Now, with your list of three to five tasks in hand, approach each of the 20 parishioners individually, and ask them if they would be willing to do one of the small tasks on your list. I’ll bet you have your volunteers before you get through the first half of your parishioner list. If so, choose your second most unpleasant task, and repeat the process.

2. Reprioritize

When I’m overwhelmed, the thing that calms me down the most is making a list of absolutely everything that is on my mind. Try it yourself. Set a timer for five minutes and write like crazy until you have everything out of your head and down on paper. Next, on a clean sheet of paper or on your computer, sort your tasks into four groups. Group 1 is all of your most important, most urgent tasks. Group 2 is all those important things that are not urgent. Group 3 is all the tasks that you need to do that are not critical. Group 4 is your delete file. If it’s not important, scratch it off your list.

3. Learn to say no

Really, how did those Group 4 things get into my head in the first place? I probably said yes to something I didn’t really want to do. An essential skill of an effective RCIA team leader is being able to set boundaries. As important as this ministry is, there are other things in our lives that are more important. Family and health, for example.

What do you do to delegate in your situation? Do you have team members to share the load with? Or are you on a small or non-existent team? How do you manage getting everything done?

It’s good to see you again. If you enjoyed this post, please share with a friend or colleague. Thanks for visiting!

If you participated in the webinar on the Rite of Election a few weeks ago, you will be ready to appreciate the good and the not-so-good aspects of any celebration of that rite. Even if you missed the webinar, however, I hope you are quite familiar with the rite as it appears in the ritual text (Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults 118 ff.).

Keep your eyes open when you attend the Rite of Election. Notice what happens. Here are ten questions (in no particular order) to help you sharpen your observations.

1. Did each catechumen have a godparent?

They should. The godparents have an important role in this rite. No “group godparents,” please. Each catchumen should have somebody who is there for them, and who can testify before the community of faith on behalf of that catechumen.

2. Did the bishop sign the book of the elect?

He shouldn’t. It’s not in the rite. It’s not in the tradition. It makes no sense. The book is for the catechumens to sign, not the bishop. Some dioceses began having the bishop sign the book because in the beautiful books from Liturgical Press there is a line at the bottom of the page for the bishop’s name. I have it on good authority, however, that when the press designed that book they had no intention of creating a new ritual. The space for the bishop’s name records who presided. You can write it in later, but please not during the rite itself.

3. If you celebrated the combined Rite of Election and Call to Continuing Conversion, could you tell the difference between the catechumens and the baptized candidates?

You should be able to. According to National Statutes #30, “Those who have already been baptized in another Church or ecclesial community should not be treated as catechumens or so designated.” If it looks like everybody is doing the same thing, something’s wrong.

4. Did the bishop greet each catechumen or group of catechumens personally during the rite?

He shouldn’t. The receiving line happens after the celebration, not during it. The bishop is the presider at liturgy; he is not a minister of hospitality. The purpose of the rite is not to have the bishop meet the catechumens or the catechumens meet the bishop. The purpose of this rite is rather to celebrate their election by God and the Church, in preparation for the Easter Sacraments.

5. Were the names called as the catechumens come forward to sign the book of the elect?

They shouldn’t be. The calling of names happens earlier in the rite, in preparation for the Affirmation by the Godparents and the Assembly. In fact, that is why their names are called—so that we know who is being affirmed. Once that affirmation has taken place, there is no need to call their names again. They may inscribe their names in the book of the elect in any order.

6. Did the godparents speak up audibly (strongly) when asked to affirm their catechumens?

They should. If necessary, you could practice this with them at home before going to the Rite of Election. A weak response is a poor sign. The affirmation is saying, in effect, “Yes, this person is ready to go forward to the sacraments!” If the godparents really believe it, they should speak up.

7. Were the names called out individually?

They don’t have to be. At the Rite of Election, the catechumens may be called forward in groups if there are too many. But if they are not called by name in this rite, they MUST be called by name in a special celebration beforehand. In fact, this provides the warrant for the Rite of Sending (see the rubrics for RCIA 130).

8. Did the bishop preach about election?

He should. It says so in the rite itself. “The celebrant should open to all the divine mystery expressed in the call of the Church and in the liturgical celebration of this mystery.” (RCIA 125). The rite makes no bones about it. The mystery is God’s election. “This step is called election because the acceptance made by the Church is founded on the election by God, in whose name the Church acts.” (RCIA 119).

9. Did the catechumens sign the book of the elect during the rite?

They don’t have to. The book may be signed at the parish, if signing at the diocesan celebration would be cumbersome or take too long. Be warned, however. If you don’t sign the book at the diocesan rite, something else has to take its place at this point in the ritual—usually a presentation of the books brought from the parishes. This can be done with ceremony, and should be reverent and impressive as a ritual act. Stacking up books on a table is a poor witness to the value of this symbol.

10. Did you get a sense that the elect are being called to mission?

You should. Election is for mission. God calls us so that we may share in the very mission of Christ. God calls us to be light for the world, not merely to bask in the light of Christ ourselves. If we forget the mission, election becomes little more than a feel-good moment. But if we remember the mission, everything else makes sense—including the need for purification, through the Scrutinies that are to come.

Happy Rite of Election, everyone!

Virtual Learning Community posted an excellent video of Archbishop Daniel Pilarczyk speaking about the faith of the church. Archbishop Pilarczyk makes the claim that we can give a full summary of everything the church teaches in less than five minutes. And then he goes on to prove it! Don’t miss this excellent catechist in action. (I set the video to skip ahead to the actual explanation.)

Archbishop Pilarczyk may be able to explain the faith in less than five minutes, but if you’d like a little longer discourse, check out Faith, Life & Creed by Mary Birmingham.

1. What is the meaning of the symbol of ashes on Ash Wednesday and where do the ashes come from?
    
2. What are the fasting regulations for Lent?
    
3. Should we empty the baptismal font for Lent?
    
4. But aren’t we fasting from water during Lent? Like Jesus did in the desert?
    
5. Who signs the Book of the Elect?
    
6. Should the elect choose a baptismal name?
    
7. How is the catechesis for the elect in Lent different than catechesis during the catechumenate period?
    
8. What are the “Presentations” and how are they celebrated?
    
9. Do we have to use Year A readings for the RCIA scrutinies?
    
10. What are the proper prayers for the scrutinies?
     
11. How can we make the scrutinies more meaningful for the assembly?
     
12. What is the history and purpose of the scrutinies?
     
13. If the elect don’t rehearse the scrutinies ahead of time, how will they know what to do?
     
14. Do child catechumens celebrate the scrutinies?
     
15. Why can’t we celebrate a Seder Meal on Holy Thursday?
     
16. What are the Holy Saturday preparation rites and how are they celebrated? (Free retreat outline.)
     
17. Any tips for celebrating the Easter Vigil?

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.

•  The reading from Nehemiah talks about “men, women, and children old enough to understand”—they are the adults and children of catechetical age.
• Ezra reads from the scroll and they say Amen. It’s a powerful scene. His listeners are moved to tears of repentance—it’s all about conversion and commitment.
• But they are told not to weep but to rejoice and celebrate a feast on this day—just like Sunday.. and the Eucharist!
• The reading from Saint Paul talks about a variety of gifts—RCIA team, take note.
• He says we need each other, and that our diversity builds up the body of Christ—the community of the faithful is not a collection of competitive individuals, but a caring and graced and organic whole.

You see what I mean. In fact, you could write the rest of this post yourself. But here’s the rest of my thought.

• In the gospel reading we hear that Luke’s “orderly account” is for “you, Theophilus” (the name means “lover of God”), so that he will understand all that he has heard—I think we are meant to put ourselves into the picture here, as a sort of modern-day Theophilus. The gospel is written for Hearers of the Word, so that they may understand. In a very special way, every catechumen is the “lover of God” whom this gospel addresses.
• Finally, Jesus himself, by opening up the word of Scripture, reveals himself as the Word who has come to save us. It’s the encounter with Christ that liberates, heals, and brings the “year of favor” about which Isaiah speaks.

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!

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.

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.

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.

The art of eating

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….

A recipe for formation

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:

• You don’t want to overwhelm them with heavy doctrines from beginning to end.
• Inquirers need a lot of appetizers—small but enticing bites of the best of our faith.
• Along with the main doctrinal courses, catechumens need plenty of side dishes of customs and practices along with well-matched wines of sparkling community and enlivening friendships.
• The elect need to be taught how to harmonize their faith the way the French balance a chorus of cheeses between the main course and dessert.
• And the neophytes are to be indulged in the eternal sweetness of God’s saving grace—much like a kid in a candy store.

Cook for whose coming to dinner

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.

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.

1. The liturgical seasons are not historical reenactments

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.

2. Draining the font is bad catechesis

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.

3. There is no such thing as a “fast” from baptismal water

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.

4. Emptying the font violates church teaching

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.”

5. An empty font violates the spirit of Vatican II

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.

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By 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.

6. An empty font weakens the funeral liturgy

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.

7. Bad practice leads to more bad practice

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.”

• Water in the font during Lent

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?

Implementation suffered from pastoral exhaustion

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.

RCIA embodies a renewed ecclesiology

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.

RCIA hindered by pragmatism

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.
 
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