Everyday 'saints' find God at work, home and play: a Lenten reflection by Notre Dame Seminary dean Tom Neal
In this file photo taken in April 1997, Pope John Paul II waves to the faithful as he crosses St. Peter's Square at the Vatican. Pope John Paul II will be declared a saint on April 27, 2014. (AP Photo/Andrew Medichini, File)
This is the second of five weekly essays written especially for NOLA.com | The Times-Picayune, each by a different Notre Dame Seminary faculty member, reflecting on the season of Lent. The first, by Brant Pitre, asked the question, "Is there more to Lent than just giving up stuff we love?" Today's reflection is by Tom Neal, the Academic Dean at Notre Dame Seminary, who blogs on matters of faith and life at nealobstat.wordpress.com.
I have worked as a lay catechist, administrator and theologian in the Catholic Church for nearly 25 years now, and, thankfully, retain the same sense of joy I had when I began. But as a Catholic layman, I am an anomaly, a departure from the real “vocation of the laity.”
What do I mean?
The Second Vatican Council sums up the heart of the vocation of lay men and women this way: “The laity, by their very vocation, seek the kingdom of God by engaging in temporal affairs and by ordering them according to the plan of God … this is their genius.”
Let me translate a bit here. “Temporal affairs” in church-speak refers to the mundane details of day-to-day secular life in the world, the stuff you don’t normally associate with church or religion: working in the garden, going to a jazz concert, running for political office, changing diapers, playing baseball, teaching math.
The council is saying something amazing here: For the lay person, the substance of saintliness is not achieved principally in “churchy” settings, but rather in board rooms, court rooms, the chambers of congress, classrooms, showrooms, movie sets, construction sites, kitchens, ball fields or bedrooms.
In short, lay saints get holy by doing well the worldly, secular things that consume most of their time and energy, and by doing them in a godly way. In Catholic lingo this is called the “lay apostolate,” meaning that the laity are, through Baptism and Confirmation, Christ’s apostles sent into the world to heal its disfigurement by drenching it in all that is true, good and beautiful.
Many Catholics may get the impression that the Second Vatican Council’s real “lay revolution” was inviting more of them to participate in church ministries and collaborate with the ordained. While there is some truth in that, and those called to serve in ministry serve a crucial role, the core revolution of the council was rooted in its unconditional affirmation that the laity, fully immersed in the world, are called to be radically holy — canonizable saints! — by a robust engagement in civic, cultural, economic, political, marital, familial, military, athletic kinds of stuff. Lay-saint aspirants are to be unabashedly immersed in the secular world, living as dual-citizens between heaven and earth, whose earthly mindedness makes them of supreme heavenly good.
Now, it’s important to make clear that I am not arguing that a “secular” laity should be shaped by those elements of our contemporary secular world that are contrary to a Catholic worldview. No! Rather, I am arguing that lay Catholics, possessing a Catholic worldview, must themselves be the shapers of the secular world, architects of a culture worthy of Christ. But they can only do that if they are both solidly grounded in their Catholic faith community and fully engaged with our messy world. This is what Pope Francis means when he says, “I prefer a church which is bruised, hurting and dirty because it has been out on the streets, rather than a church which is unhealthy from being confined and from clinging to its own security.”
Likening their secular lives to the celebration of the Eucharist, John Paul II affirms that, in their daily lives, the laity call down the Holy Spirit on the sacrificial “bread and wine” of their marriages, jobs, leisure, joys and hardships to consecrate the world to God and make Christ present to transform darkness into light, sadness into joy, hatred into mercy, despair into hope, death into life.
Let me end by sharing an email I received from a young mother:
“When my children were young I used to long for the days before I had children, when I was heavily involved in charismatic renewal, with lots of time for me-prayer, supportive community and feel-like-a-hero service outreach activities; these gave me energy, life and a sense of purpose. After my second child was born, I felt deep down — though I would never have admitted it — that having children was somehow leading me away from God, as they seemed to present a distraction from what I spiritually enjoyed and thrived on. I also knew intellectually that this couldn’t be. But there I was! I fought it constantly by trying to edge in as many church-related activities as I could, sometimes overburdening my husband with my absences or overspending on babysitters.
“Then one night when I was awakened by a hungry baby, I sat in my rocking chair nursing and I cried. I prayed, ‘How do I find you like I used to, God? I need more than this.’ Then I suddenly heard God whisper deep into the depths of my broken heart, ‘Thank you for feeding me.’
“It was like a spiritual explosion in my heart, a revolution, a whole upturning of my distorted worldview. God was there, appearing in the dark of night, in my house, in my nursing child, in my domestic vocation, in the present moment. And my longing for intimacy with Jesus suddenly seemed wrapped in dirty diapers and dishes and rare dates out with my husband.
“After that night, I saw that church life and my me-prayer — still very important to me! — were to be servants of my life outside of church. That my home was my first church. Now I always say, and my charismatic friends laugh, that saying prayers before meals or bedtime with my children has become my new mysticism, and shopping for groceries at Walmart, my new mission trip.”
That, ladies and gentleman, is the lay vocation. Go, be sent.
I have worked as a lay catechist, administrator and theologian in the Catholic Church for nearly 25 years now, and, thankfully, retain the same sense of joy I had when I began. But as a Catholic layman, I am an anomaly, a departure from the real “vocation of the laity.”
Story by Tom Neal
Academic Dean, Notre Dame Seminary
This conviction overtook me in the late 1990s after I read for the first time Pope John Paul II’s magna carta on the lay vocation, Christifidelis laici. The night after I finished reading it, a math professor at Florida State happened to catch me one evening after a Bible study I was leading. He said, “I would give anything to quit my job and work for God like you.” I replied, “Oh no, my work is only a service to your work for God!” Academic Dean, Notre Dame Seminary
What do I mean?
The Second Vatican Council sums up the heart of the vocation of lay men and women this way: “The laity, by their very vocation, seek the kingdom of God by engaging in temporal affairs and by ordering them according to the plan of God … this is their genius.”
Let me translate a bit here. “Temporal affairs” in church-speak refers to the mundane details of day-to-day secular life in the world, the stuff you don’t normally associate with church or religion: working in the garden, going to a jazz concert, running for political office, changing diapers, playing baseball, teaching math.
The council is saying something amazing here: For the lay person, the substance of saintliness is not achieved principally in “churchy” settings, but rather in board rooms, court rooms, the chambers of congress, classrooms, showrooms, movie sets, construction sites, kitchens, ball fields or bedrooms.
In short, lay saints get holy by doing well the worldly, secular things that consume most of their time and energy, and by doing them in a godly way. In Catholic lingo this is called the “lay apostolate,” meaning that the laity are, through Baptism and Confirmation, Christ’s apostles sent into the world to heal its disfigurement by drenching it in all that is true, good and beautiful.
Many Catholics may get the impression that the Second Vatican Council’s real “lay revolution” was inviting more of them to participate in church ministries and collaborate with the ordained. While there is some truth in that, and those called to serve in ministry serve a crucial role, the core revolution of the council was rooted in its unconditional affirmation that the laity, fully immersed in the world, are called to be radically holy — canonizable saints! — by a robust engagement in civic, cultural, economic, political, marital, familial, military, athletic kinds of stuff. Lay-saint aspirants are to be unabashedly immersed in the secular world, living as dual-citizens between heaven and earth, whose earthly mindedness makes them of supreme heavenly good.
Now, it’s important to make clear that I am not arguing that a “secular” laity should be shaped by those elements of our contemporary secular world that are contrary to a Catholic worldview. No! Rather, I am arguing that lay Catholics, possessing a Catholic worldview, must themselves be the shapers of the secular world, architects of a culture worthy of Christ. But they can only do that if they are both solidly grounded in their Catholic faith community and fully engaged with our messy world. This is what Pope Francis means when he says, “I prefer a church which is bruised, hurting and dirty because it has been out on the streets, rather than a church which is unhealthy from being confined and from clinging to its own security.”
Likening their secular lives to the celebration of the Eucharist, John Paul II affirms that, in their daily lives, the laity call down the Holy Spirit on the sacrificial “bread and wine” of their marriages, jobs, leisure, joys and hardships to consecrate the world to God and make Christ present to transform darkness into light, sadness into joy, hatred into mercy, despair into hope, death into life.
Let me end by sharing an email I received from a young mother:
“When my children were young I used to long for the days before I had children, when I was heavily involved in charismatic renewal, with lots of time for me-prayer, supportive community and feel-like-a-hero service outreach activities; these gave me energy, life and a sense of purpose. After my second child was born, I felt deep down — though I would never have admitted it — that having children was somehow leading me away from God, as they seemed to present a distraction from what I spiritually enjoyed and thrived on. I also knew intellectually that this couldn’t be. But there I was! I fought it constantly by trying to edge in as many church-related activities as I could, sometimes overburdening my husband with my absences or overspending on babysitters.
“Then one night when I was awakened by a hungry baby, I sat in my rocking chair nursing and I cried. I prayed, ‘How do I find you like I used to, God? I need more than this.’ Then I suddenly heard God whisper deep into the depths of my broken heart, ‘Thank you for feeding me.’
“It was like a spiritual explosion in my heart, a revolution, a whole upturning of my distorted worldview. God was there, appearing in the dark of night, in my house, in my nursing child, in my domestic vocation, in the present moment. And my longing for intimacy with Jesus suddenly seemed wrapped in dirty diapers and dishes and rare dates out with my husband.
“After that night, I saw that church life and my me-prayer — still very important to me! — were to be servants of my life outside of church. That my home was my first church. Now I always say, and my charismatic friends laugh, that saying prayers before meals or bedtime with my children has become my new mysticism, and shopping for groceries at Walmart, my new mission trip.”
That, ladies and gentleman, is the lay vocation. Go, be sent.
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