Delving Deeper

“Only open your human heart your Christian heart, and ask yourselves the three questions Ignatius of Loyola put to himself as he stood in front of the crucified world: What have I done for Christ in this world? What am I doing now? And above all, what should I do?”

I have been reflecting further on this quote from Ignacio Ellacuría and its implications for a life of Christian discipleship. To add another lens to this quote, what are the implications of a life of Christian discipleship when lived within community – as a Church? If we accept (and I think we must) that our Christian faith is essentially ecclesial and therefore, communal, then the asking of Ignatius’s three questions above becomes a group exercise, carefully discerned, yet courageously engaging. It becomes an ongoing task of the parish community and opens up possibilities for solidarity among parishes in their struggles, challenges and joys of social ministry. It is in this light, that Ignatius's questions can be considered anew.

The opening lines of the Second Vatican Council’s Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World (Gaudium et spes) read as follows: “The joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the men of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these are the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the followers of Christ.” In the Gospels, we find Christ accompanying the poor, the oppressed of society; we also find him ‘proclaiming the year of the Lord’s favor’ (Lk. 4:19) following the many ways in which he (in the words of Isaiah) promises the liberation that only God can inaugurate fully. If the Spirit of the Lord which anoints Jesus in the Temple is the same Spirit which founds, enlivens, renews, re-awakens and surprises the Church, then it is in this same Spirit that we identify with the joys, hopes, griefs and anxieties of those who are poor and the bearers of social injustice. Therefore, the first question can be restated: what have we, the church, done for Christ – the Christ we see so clearly in the Gospel – in this world? In what ways have we humbly served the Lord? In what ways have we been lacking – fearful, ignorant or indignant? In what ways might we be driving the nails of crucifixion further into the crucified of this world and thus stifling the Spirit? These questions are just as applicable at the local, parish level as well.

I must admit that the above paragraph is somewhat incomplete – much more could (and should) be said. And to some, it may appear that the first paragraph is obvious – this is the perennial challenge given to the Church. To others, it may appear slightly discomforting or even off-putting or maybe even somewhat difficult to relate to. This is valid when we consider the reality of parish life and the incredibly rich variance in how each parish is established, functions and lives as a community. I want to suggest that the second question of Ignatius can be considered on the local, particular level: what are we doing now for Christ? When we look around at our parish, what are we doing? What are the many gifts of the same Spirit that woven together make up the single thread of our community? What is our social outreach to local and global communities? Do we educate one another on the status of the crucified in the world? Do we run soup kitchens and food pantries, but neglect to ask why it is that these things are necessary? Do we go about our social ministries seeking to ‘put ourselves out of business’? Do we make the connection between the poor persons we encounter and accompany and Christ who reveals himself in them (Mt. 25)? Are we asking the why questions related to those we serve and do we take action to address them when they spell out injustice?

I am reminded at this point in my reflection of an essay written by Karl Rahner, SJ, an important 20th century Catholic theologian (and teacher of Ignacio Ellacuría), on the Church as a critic of society. His main argument is that in order for the Church to exercise a credible and truth-based critique of society, we must be always self-critical in the sense that we are attentive to how our prophetic message is applied and lived in our own ecclesial situation as we seek to hold it as the standard by which society is critiqued. Rahner notes the centrality of the Gospel for this:

This critical perspective as applied to social realities and changes in social politics can, to the extent that it is opened up by the Church, only be the gospel which the Church preaches and lives by, though of course this is not to deny, but rather to maintain, that the Church herself needs to be brought back ever anew by her own Spirit to this gospel as providing the perspective for social criticism. (“The Function of the Church as a Critic of Society,” 235)

Therefore, when we seek to do social justice, a critical self-awareness must accompany the critical look we take to the injustice we see present. To put it another way: if we are to ‘proclaim a year of the Lord’s favor’ in the Spirit of Christ; if we truly seek to become ever more fully a sacrament of the kingdom of God, then we must do so based on the gospel and with humility.

The third question of Ignatius, ‘what should I do?’, is related to that point and is about conversion and hope. It is an acknowledgement that the current reality of worldwide injustice in its many forms and our complicity in it (personally, socially, even ecclesially) is not the full expression of the kingdom of God. Asking ‘What should we do?’ causes us to realize that not only have we not concretized the kingdom fully within history, but we alone do not possess the means for making this happen. Our realization of this and our consideration of the kingdom as an ongoing project of God’s grace acts as the catalyst for conversion. At the same time, this project is one of hope that is truly eschatological; it is rooted in the difficulty of the present and cannot forsake that reality, but looks ahead to through the lens of the gospel to new life, a new creation.

Theologically, all of this is logically sound (I hope!). But practically – realistically – we need to work out what it means concretely. To ask what should we do for Christ in a world of the crucified is a question that certainly requires the theological reflection given above, but it cannot get lost in reflection. Using Ellacuría’s terminology, these concepts of ‘kingdom’, ‘eschatology’, and ‘grace’ must be ‘historicized’ – brought into conversation with historical reality. This is where the rubber hits the road. ‘Historicization’ is the process by which we ascertain if our theology and praxis are mutually informative – in our concrete living out of the gospel.

Given the realities that many folks at parishes face in their social ministries, it is easier to see how conversion works for one whose eyes are opened to the massive injustice surrounding them. For example, when a parish organizes a program to provide shelter, food and clothes to the homeless in the wintertime, conversion occurs on many different levels. First, conversion occurs in the realization that a situation of homelessness exists for people in one’s own community. Second, it occurs when one begins to reflect more deeply on this reality and considers why homelessness exists. Third, conversion to the gospel continues to flourish when one begins to consider the ways in which s/he can begin to change that reality – to transform it. And at a parish, this can occur not only individually, but communally, leading to advocacy work on behalf of the homeless within the city. In this process of conversion, the kingdom finds steadier ground and grace finds a welcoming, yet necessarily ongoing response.

This last point – the ‘necessarily ongoing’ point – is crucial, yet perhaps more difficult. I think this is the crucial lesson of parish ministry from my observer’s standpoint: the ongoing willingness to be converted. And it is this willingness that arises from Christian hope. Looking ahead to the fullness of the kingdom in prayer and in praxis means openness to conversion to new possibilities, new ways of ministering, new ideas of advocacy work, new ways in which God might be communicating to us about how best to serve others. This is particularly true in the mundane work that goes on or in the troubling reality of budget shortages, lack of resources and burnout.

Therefore, a part of the answer to ‘what should I do for Christ?’ is: be open to the voice of Christ in history – in the reality of the crucified of history. For the parish: what is the particular reality of the community and what is the greater global reality? How must we engage it? How must we continue to engage it when it is difficult and when we might even be persecuted?

This is theological reflection that thus provides a buttress for a solidarity network among Jesuit parishes – to seek one another in the strength that comes from community in Christ. The openness to doing for Christ, for being open to conversion is a task for an individual certainly, but even more importantly, for a group in solidarity with one another and with the poor.