Mere
hours before he died in Bangkok, Thailand, in 1968, Thomas Merton
addressed a conference of Asian monastic orders with characteristic
pithiness: “[W]e can no longer rely on being supported by structures
that may be destroyed at any moment by a political power or a political
force,” he said. “The time for relying on structures has disappeared.
They are good and they should help us, and we should do the best we can
with them. But they may be taken away, and if everything is taken away,
what do you do next?”
The tone would be despairing, almost fatalistic, were it not for the
implicit promise that final question portends. To ask ourselves what we
do next is to conjure a horizon, to remind ourselves that we are going somewhere,
that we are on a journey. Even in a world that is institutionally
denuded and distrustful of common projects, we are still capable of
dreaming of new and better ways to associate collectively and create a
society, in Peter Maurin’s famous dictum, “where it is easier for people
to be good.”
Within the context of the Catholic Church, many of us saw the Synod on
Synodality as an invitation to imagine new social structures that would,
in turn, influence secular patterns of dialogue, decision-making, and
dispersion of power more fairly and equitably. Perhaps this was too high
a bar for the initial three years of what Pope Francis has intimated
will be a millennium-long process, but like the proverbial mustard tree,
the seed has been sown. Even to have the concept of “walking together”
formalized in a word (synodos) and a series of practices means
that we now share a common reference point for ecclesial collaboration—a
gift we can extend to a multipolar world beleaguered by crises that
cannot be solved alone.
As we enter the Synod’s “implementation stage,” there is rightful
skepticism about how thoroughly this gift will be developed. “The
question is to what extent an ‘awareness’, ‘a renewed way of living’,
‘new dynamics regarding participation’ and a ‘culture of ongoing
evaluation’ can have any purchase without new structures and sanctions,”
Jon Rosebank wrote in his commentary
on the Synod’s final document for Spirit Unbounded. Maryknoll priest
Fr. Joe Healey raised an interesting point in a report he delivered on
the Synod on December 10—coincidentally, 56 years to the day after
Merton’s address in Bangkok—when he observed: “Some say that
‘Synodality’ is Pope Francis’ ‘thing’ just as the ‘New Evangelization’
was St. John Paul II’s ‘thing.’ . . . [The] key is who will be the next
pope and his priorities since we still have a hierarchical, top-down
structure in the Catholic Church.”
This week between Christmas and the New Year—between celebrations of a birth in time and a birth of
time—has always felt to me to be a kind of bounded and sacrosanct
period, akin to how I’d imagine new parents feel in their first days
home with their child. The pace of life slows down a bit, and the muted
qualities of winter begin to seep in after the holiday rush. It is a
time for reflection, but more so a time to dream as the landscape opens
up, the quality of light sharpens, and we can see farther and clearer
than we might on a hot summer’s day.
I think of the Holy Family in their first hours together, of Mary and
Joseph dreaming of Jesus’s future, of how we, too, in this season of
Christmastide are privileged to dream alongside them and envision the
growth of the Body of Christ. I find myself drawn to the need expressed
in the Synod’s final document “for a common and shared formation, in
which men and women, laity, consecrated persons, ordained ministers and
candidates for ordained ministry participate together, thus enabling
them to grow together in knowledge and mutual esteem and in the ability
to collaborate” (143), and I imagine a new kind of seminary without
walls—an interdisciplinary center for spiritual research where
theologians, artists, scientists, agriculturists, contemplatives, and a
whole range of "social poets"
can come together to develop the practice of the priesthood both
universal and ordained. It is but one dream among many to cultivate this
week. I hope that some of our recent features inspire you to find, as
Merton did and as one of our authors writes, “a newness that is glowing
within the process of ever-present possibilities.”
Michael Centore
Editor, Today's American Catholic
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"People Need to Be Needed": An Interview with Bishop Juan Miguel Betancourt
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Earlier this month, we had the opportunity to speak with Most Reverend Juan Miguel Betancourt, SEMV, who currently serves as the Auxiliary Bishop of the Archdiocese of Hartford.
Bishop Betancourt came to TAC's home archdiocese in 2018 after spending
over a decade in the Archdiocese of Saint Paul and Minneapolis, where
he was both a priest and professor at the University of St. Thomas and
in the Diaconate Program for the Archdiocese of St. Paul Minneapolis.
Aside from his connection to our local archdiocese, we became aware of Bishop Betancourt’s work through our coverage
of the 2021–24 Synod. We noted that the bishop’s name was included as a
member of the US Bishops’ Synod Team that compiled the synthesis
documents for the US Conference of Catholic Bishops. As the synodal
process evolved, we wanted to learn more about his role and how it might
influence and inspire his ministry within the archdiocese.
With these questions in mind, Bishop Betancourt graciously agreed to an
interview conducted via Zoom. Our primary focus was on his experience of
the Synod and its historical, biblical, and spiritual elements, but we
also touched on the relationship between synodality and parish life and
ways it might be implemented here in our local church.
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"What Birth Is, and What Is Rebirth . . ."
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Drawing on the work of the famed historian of religion Elaine Pagels, Gene Ciarlo
presents a retelling of how the early church might have developed had
the teachings of the Gnostics been incorporated into daily practice. The
Gnostic scriptures found at Nag Hammadi offer a glimpse of a mystical,
experiential vision of the faith that, in proper proportion, could
re-energize static institutional practices, Gene writes: "Since their
discovery in 1945, these buried gems have revealed much about the
earliest days of Christianity that were lost. Sometimes they dovetail
with the events and conclusions of the present canon of Scripture that
we know as the New Testament, and sometimes they reveal new and
startling words and events."
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Reviewing Guy Leschziner’s Seven Deadly Sins: The Biology of Being Human, Douglas C. MacLeod Jr. says that much of the book "speaks
to the conundrum of how the workings of our brains and bodies influence
sinful transgressions." The relationship between biology and theology
is often confined to such issues as medical ethics, but MacLeod's
discussion of Leschziner's work opens new (neural) pathways for thinking
about how these two fields of knowledge correspond: "Leschziner argues
[that] brain disorders, genetics, environmental shifts, and biological
and psychological changes can lead to gluttony, lust, wrath, pride,
envy, sloth, and greed: the whole catalogue of the seven deadly sins,
all considered amoral, 'shameful selfish acts' that go against God’s
will."
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A Voyage into Liminal Space: Looking Ahead to Epiphany
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