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The Catechism Gap: Symptoms (Episode Three)
Introduction
We return to “In Anticipation of the Catechism of the Catholic Church: The Perspective of One Raised Between the Catechisms,” which I wrote in 1993 and which was originally published in the Summer 1994 edition of The Living Light: An Interdisciplinary Review of Catholic Religious Education, Catechesis, and Pastoral Ministry an “official publication of the Department of Education of the United States Catholic Conference.” It was later republished in abbreviated form as “Raised Between the Catechisms” in Catholic Digest, September 1994. It appears here, with the permission of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB), in three parts (episodes one, three, and four; episode two is a digression), in the form in which it was submitted for publication in 1993 with some minor editing.
SYMPTOMS OF A DEFICIENT CATECHESIS
In reflecting upon my experience of being catechized between the catechisms, I sorted out what I believe can be some symptoms of a deficient catechesis. We might keep these in mind as we plan the implementation of the Catechism of the Catholic Church.
Whence came the Church’s authority, how was it exercised, and what made it valid?
Assumption
What often strikes me about many Catholics who had a pre-Vatican II religious education is their assumption that we Vatican II Catholics were taught what they learned in their religious education, even if they are not aware of this assumption. For example, in the context of a recent meeting I was attending, a priest said to a young catechist, “You remember the Baltimore Catechism?” Of course, the young man knew nothing about it. I had to point out that not only had he never seen it, but that I, ten years his senior, had never seen it.
Another less obvious example of catechetical assumption manifested itself in the late 1970’s religious education and still affects religious education today. Instead of a systematic study of religion, we students were invited to engage in discussions, projects, or games presumably designed to help us examine how Catholic teaching applied in everyday life. It was obvious that our teachers presumed knowledge of Catholic teaching, that they had learned at school and religious education, that we had not learned. Like our parents, they used terms and phrases from their religious-education background that were supposed to mean something to us, but these meant nothing. They assumed a religious-education background similar to their own, but ours had been so different.
Sure, discussing and reasoning out the proper behavior in a limited number of situations could be useful, but we were already capable of reasoning and arriving at conclusions before we entered the classroom. What we were not capable of doing was applying teaching we did not know. And we did not necessarily know Church teaching on given issues and the profundity of reasoning behind it. That is why we attended religious education. The educational approach described above was why we left disappointed.
Furthermore, there seemed to be a reluctance on the part of many religious-education representatives to talk much about Church teaching and the reasoning behind it. It was as if they were afraid that we might not like it. Or perhaps, in the catechetical climate of the time, they were less sure of things about which they had been very sure in the past. Whatever the case, we usually skirted around the material instead of going through it, which was a very frustrating experience for those of us who wanted to learn.
Moreover, what was not addressed at all was how the Catholic Church taught what it did and why that was relevant. We young Catholics could see that our Protestant friends were taught many of the same general moral principles that we were. We were able to reason to the same moral conclusions that the Catholic Church taught on specific issues. But how did the Church teach what it taught, and what made the fact that the Catholic Church taught it relevant? How did the Church teach and why did its teachings matter? The question ultimately came down to one of authority. Whence came the Church’s authority, how was it exercised, and what made it valid?
That assumption precluded a thorough examination of one of the major elements that sets apart the Catholic Church from Protestant denominations: the Magisterium instituted by Christ, documented in Sacred Scripture (e.g. Mt 16: 13-19, 18:18) and handed on through Tradition and Apostolic Succession.
My impression is that Church authority and its provenance, however simply understood, were so ingrained in the generations that preceded ours that they assumed an appreciation for that authority that they themselves had learned. That assumption precluded a thorough examination of one of the major elements that sets apart the Catholic Church from Protestant denominations: the Magisterium instituted by Christ, documented in Sacred Scripture (e.g. Mt 16: 13-19, 18:18) and handed on through Tradition and Apostolic Succession. That preclusion simultaneously precluded an examination of the Church’s provenance, sacraments, history, and teachings, relevant in a way that it would only be relevant to the Church that bases its authority on its institution by Christ and its apostolic succession and professes the sanctification of history in the mystery of the Incarnation.
How can young people understand or appreciate the authority of the Magisterium if they are not taught about its provenance and validity? And if they do no understand or appreciate that authority, why should they take its teachings seriously? If they first understand the grounds for the authority of the Magisterium, they might give greater credence and respect to its teachings, even unto delving deeper into consideration of the teachings, whether they agree with them or not.
This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Condescension
If assumption is one repercussive symptom of a deficient catechesis, then condescension is another. Condescension of this kind is more often found in small pockets within that ethereal world of academia, but in rare instances, can seep into the catechetical program through an individual influenced by it in his or her training. In avoiding this symptom, catechetical leaders must guard against the temptation to create or maintain their own necessity by keeping people ignorant in a subtle, self-perpetuating condescension that underestimates people’s ability to learn.
Though we must respect the varied levels at which individuals will join the discussion, we must reject the notion that somehow the average person cannot grasp what the catechetical director or the liturgist or the priest has grasped. Otherwise, the catechetical director might bend to the temptation to leave out the substance in religious education and substitute “fluff,” thereby devaluing the Gospel and perpetuating the ignorance that makes his knowledge and thus himself special and necessary.
Ignorance breeds dependence, and in the milieu of dependent ignorance a certain mystique may surround the catechetical director, but at what cost? The cost is personal stagnation for the catechetical director and a diminished capacity to progress in their own faith for a congregation ill-informed about what their Church is and what and how it teaches.
Ignorance stands in the way of the full consensual participation of individuals in the Body of Christ.
Relevant to this point, I was once remarking on the need for a more substantial religious education for the Catholic in the pew, and a friend responded, “Not everyone can have an M.A. in theology.” My reaction is that they should not need one. Catholics should not need a master’s degree to know what their Church is, whence comes its authority, what it teaches and how it does so, what its history, its Scriptures, its Tradition, and its sacraments are, and how they might be better understood. These are fundamental features of the Catholic Church, and there is no reason that Catholics participating in a catechetical program should not be able to learn enough about these features to more fully invest in their Catholic commitment. This increased knowledge validating fuller investment allows Catholics to be the responsible Christians necessary to the health of the Church.
Basic knowledge about the Church is not some luxury reserved for those who earn an M.A. in theology. It is a necessity for all members of a Church that demands participation by its very sacramental nature. Ignorance stands in the way of the full consensual participation of individuals in the Body of Christ.
Ignorance
Of this symptom we must all claim a share.
I do not believe that most catechetical leaders have denied a substantial religious education purposely. As stated above, I believe that, in some cases, catechetical directors and catechists have assumed knowledge of information that they had learned and students were never taught. In other very rare cases, they may underestimate their students’ capacity for understanding. In other cases, they themselves may not have been confident in their own knowledge of the subject.
Regardless of our lack of knowledge we must continue to encourage students in their questioning. If we cannot help them from what we know, then we must commit to helping them find the information they seek. Our Faith, founded on Jesus, should fear no questions. The truth need fear no questions. Only the lie needs to fear questions. Still, as finite beings we must accept that though the truth can answer all questions, some questions may be beyond our capacity to answer because of our limited capacity to understand the truth. These mysteries allow us the opportunity to ponder in prayer toward a greater intimacy with God through that kind of enlightenment that changes one’s being and is so difficult to express. They also allow us an opportunity to appreciate the need for an inspired Magisterium to guard the faithful from error in pondering those mysteries that our finitude renders impossible for us to grasp.
Our Faith, founded on Jesus, should fear no questions.
Manipulation
This symptom was quite familiar to many of my generation and younger, and is still in use today. In the absence of substantial religious education, catechetical leaders believed that their role was to “get the kids to talk.” In this scenario, success in religious education classes is judged by how much the individual “shares,” despite the fact that the Church herself witnesses to the propriety of privacy in the Sacrament of Reconciliation.
This intrusive approach has guaranteed the absence from religious-education courses of some of the most intelligent and sensitive young people in our communities. Many of these young people have a much healthier sense of privacy than do some of our catechetical leaders, and no student should feel that how successful he or she is in religious education depends upon how well that individual bares his or her soul. Students should not leave religious-education classes or other catechetical events feeling that their privacy has been violated. Most of our students are well-adjusted young people who have confidantes whom they trust, and they do not need to be pressured by a person representing the Church who has an unhealthy need to know what is none of that person’s business.
A scene from Shakespeare’s Hamlet may prove instructive. When Hamlet has wearied of the inept attempts of the shallow Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to “find him out” for his mother and his uncle/father, the king, he requests that Guildenstern play some music on a recorder. Guildenstern responds that he cannot, but Hamlet persists, until finally, Guildenstern states, “I have not the skill.” Hamlet responds:
Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. ‘Sblood, do you think that I am easier to be play’d on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
(Hamlet III, ii)
We have many young Hamlets in our congregations, and they resent, as well they might, misguided attempts, like the one illustrated above, to casually pluck out the hearts of their individual mysteries.
A substantial religious education guards against such unhealthy intrusions. Such a religious education helps give young people the knowledge with which to approach many of their issues and discuss them with others in a healthy way. This does not remove the catechetical director or the catechist from the role of confidante or counselor, but leaves the choice with the young person, rather than assume it without respect for that young person’s thoughts and feelings.
We have many young Hamlets in our congregations, and they resent, as well they might, misguided attempts, like the one illustrated above, to casually pluck out the hearts of their individual mysteries.
“Fun”
In guarding against manipulation, we must examine the word fun. Fun was and is the operative word for many catechetical leaders and decreasingly so for many parents. Religious education must be fun. The emphasis on this short, monosyllabic word concerns me. Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against enjoyment, even frivolity on occasion, but the question arises, “What is fun?”
“Ah, there’s the rub,” and there would seem to fit that ancient truism “different strokes for different folks.” That being the case, how do you determine what is fun for a variety of young people with a variety of tastes? One answer seems to be to have high-school students play games, some of which are physically intrusive, many of which are designed for much younger children. This will probably appeal to some, but I can relate that it did not appeal to the majority of high-school students who attended religious education in the 1970s, and I do not believe that it appeals to the majority of high-school students today. It certainly does not appeal to those who are not coming to religious-education programs that employ it. As with manipulation, many intelligent, mature students resent being forced to participate in intrusive, childish games or be branded an attitude problem.
Even if we could make religious education fun for everyone, is that how we want to order our priorities? Patrick F. McManus writes in Real Ponies Don’t Go Oink!:
Educators now take a more civilized approach and try to make learning an enjoyable experience. I agree with that. I know all my children enjoyed school much more than I did. On the other hand, none of them knows how to multiply and divide fractions. I suppose that’s part of the trade-off.
What has been the tradeoff for the catechesis of fun? Are we willing to continue accepting it?
I am not suggesting that fun be entirely removed from catechesis, but what are the limitations of the catechesis of fun. First, I am not overly confident that middle-aged catechetical leaders are the best judges of what is fun for high schoolers of today. Second, we are not going to compete with the multi-million-dollar productions of MTV for entertainment. Third, why should we substitute questionable entertainment for the enjoyment of real learning about God and God’s creation.
Certainly, students can learn about Christian fellowship on trips to amusement parks, especially if the trip is prayerfully offered up to God. But amusement parks, camping trips, lock-ins, and roller skating do not summarily dismiss the need for an academic component to catechesis, namely, a religious-education program. Sure, we can have the kids flocking to our youth-ministry events and believe that our catechetical program is successful, but we are not serving the youth if when they enter young adulthood and meet some of the crises, minor and major, of that period of life, they despair of their Catholic Faith, because they are ignorant of its truths and their access to deeper understanding of those truths that would serve them so well in their crises. It is often at that time of their lives that young people abandon the Catholic Church for fundamentalist churches that offer answers, however simplistically inadequate, with which to deal with the issues that confront them.
Perhaps, catechetical leaders need to recognize the distinction between catechesis and religious education as suggested by Thomas P. Walters and Joseph P. Leddy in their article “Religious Education: Focusing the Light of Faith” (The Living Light, Summer 1991). Whatever the case, we must offer an academic component in which the word enjoyment might better serve than fun. Then even young people who do not like to play games could find a satisfying place in catechetical programs.
Of course, without fun to fall back on, catechetical leaders will be challenged more than ever to probe the depths of the wealth of Catholic teaching to meet the needs of our young people. We will be forced to respect the fact that many young people have thoughtful questions, and that they want to know how the Catholic Church answers them, and why. This will be especially true, because without fun to fill the space, we will be more inclined to invite the challenges of young people and to respond to them from the wealth of the Tradition of our Church, growing ever more intimate, students and catechists, with that community with, in, and through which we come to know our Lord unto eternity.
Part Four to follow shortly.
Please like, share, comment, or subscribe as you feel inclined.
Thank you,
P. A. Ritzer
Thanks for reading! This post is public so feel free to share it.
This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Get full access to P. A. Ritzer at paritzer.substack.com/subscribe
View all episodes
By P. A. RitzerIntroduction
We return to “In Anticipation of the Catechism of the Catholic Church: The Perspective of One Raised Between the Catechisms,” which I wrote in 1993 and which was originally published in the Summer 1994 edition of The Living Light: An Interdisciplinary Review of Catholic Religious Education, Catechesis, and Pastoral Ministry an “official publication of the Department of Education of the United States Catholic Conference.” It was later republished in abbreviated form as “Raised Between the Catechisms” in Catholic Digest, September 1994. It appears here, with the permission of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB), in three parts (episodes one, three, and four; episode two is a digression), in the form in which it was submitted for publication in 1993 with some minor editing.
SYMPTOMS OF A DEFICIENT CATECHESIS
In reflecting upon my experience of being catechized between the catechisms, I sorted out what I believe can be some symptoms of a deficient catechesis. We might keep these in mind as we plan the implementation of the Catechism of the Catholic Church.
Whence came the Church’s authority, how was it exercised, and what made it valid?
Assumption
What often strikes me about many Catholics who had a pre-Vatican II religious education is their assumption that we Vatican II Catholics were taught what they learned in their religious education, even if they are not aware of this assumption. For example, in the context of a recent meeting I was attending, a priest said to a young catechist, “You remember the Baltimore Catechism?” Of course, the young man knew nothing about it. I had to point out that not only had he never seen it, but that I, ten years his senior, had never seen it.
Another less obvious example of catechetical assumption manifested itself in the late 1970’s religious education and still affects religious education today. Instead of a systematic study of religion, we students were invited to engage in discussions, projects, or games presumably designed to help us examine how Catholic teaching applied in everyday life. It was obvious that our teachers presumed knowledge of Catholic teaching, that they had learned at school and religious education, that we had not learned. Like our parents, they used terms and phrases from their religious-education background that were supposed to mean something to us, but these meant nothing. They assumed a religious-education background similar to their own, but ours had been so different.
Sure, discussing and reasoning out the proper behavior in a limited number of situations could be useful, but we were already capable of reasoning and arriving at conclusions before we entered the classroom. What we were not capable of doing was applying teaching we did not know. And we did not necessarily know Church teaching on given issues and the profundity of reasoning behind it. That is why we attended religious education. The educational approach described above was why we left disappointed.
Furthermore, there seemed to be a reluctance on the part of many religious-education representatives to talk much about Church teaching and the reasoning behind it. It was as if they were afraid that we might not like it. Or perhaps, in the catechetical climate of the time, they were less sure of things about which they had been very sure in the past. Whatever the case, we usually skirted around the material instead of going through it, which was a very frustrating experience for those of us who wanted to learn.
Moreover, what was not addressed at all was how the Catholic Church taught what it did and why that was relevant. We young Catholics could see that our Protestant friends were taught many of the same general moral principles that we were. We were able to reason to the same moral conclusions that the Catholic Church taught on specific issues. But how did the Church teach what it taught, and what made the fact that the Catholic Church taught it relevant? How did the Church teach and why did its teachings matter? The question ultimately came down to one of authority. Whence came the Church’s authority, how was it exercised, and what made it valid?
That assumption precluded a thorough examination of one of the major elements that sets apart the Catholic Church from Protestant denominations: the Magisterium instituted by Christ, documented in Sacred Scripture (e.g. Mt 16: 13-19, 18:18) and handed on through Tradition and Apostolic Succession.
My impression is that Church authority and its provenance, however simply understood, were so ingrained in the generations that preceded ours that they assumed an appreciation for that authority that they themselves had learned. That assumption precluded a thorough examination of one of the major elements that sets apart the Catholic Church from Protestant denominations: the Magisterium instituted by Christ, documented in Sacred Scripture (e.g. Mt 16: 13-19, 18:18) and handed on through Tradition and Apostolic Succession. That preclusion simultaneously precluded an examination of the Church’s provenance, sacraments, history, and teachings, relevant in a way that it would only be relevant to the Church that bases its authority on its institution by Christ and its apostolic succession and professes the sanctification of history in the mystery of the Incarnation.
How can young people understand or appreciate the authority of the Magisterium if they are not taught about its provenance and validity? And if they do no understand or appreciate that authority, why should they take its teachings seriously? If they first understand the grounds for the authority of the Magisterium, they might give greater credence and respect to its teachings, even unto delving deeper into consideration of the teachings, whether they agree with them or not.
This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Condescension
If assumption is one repercussive symptom of a deficient catechesis, then condescension is another. Condescension of this kind is more often found in small pockets within that ethereal world of academia, but in rare instances, can seep into the catechetical program through an individual influenced by it in his or her training. In avoiding this symptom, catechetical leaders must guard against the temptation to create or maintain their own necessity by keeping people ignorant in a subtle, self-perpetuating condescension that underestimates people’s ability to learn.
Though we must respect the varied levels at which individuals will join the discussion, we must reject the notion that somehow the average person cannot grasp what the catechetical director or the liturgist or the priest has grasped. Otherwise, the catechetical director might bend to the temptation to leave out the substance in religious education and substitute “fluff,” thereby devaluing the Gospel and perpetuating the ignorance that makes his knowledge and thus himself special and necessary.
Ignorance breeds dependence, and in the milieu of dependent ignorance a certain mystique may surround the catechetical director, but at what cost? The cost is personal stagnation for the catechetical director and a diminished capacity to progress in their own faith for a congregation ill-informed about what their Church is and what and how it teaches.
Ignorance stands in the way of the full consensual participation of individuals in the Body of Christ.
Relevant to this point, I was once remarking on the need for a more substantial religious education for the Catholic in the pew, and a friend responded, “Not everyone can have an M.A. in theology.” My reaction is that they should not need one. Catholics should not need a master’s degree to know what their Church is, whence comes its authority, what it teaches and how it does so, what its history, its Scriptures, its Tradition, and its sacraments are, and how they might be better understood. These are fundamental features of the Catholic Church, and there is no reason that Catholics participating in a catechetical program should not be able to learn enough about these features to more fully invest in their Catholic commitment. This increased knowledge validating fuller investment allows Catholics to be the responsible Christians necessary to the health of the Church.
Basic knowledge about the Church is not some luxury reserved for those who earn an M.A. in theology. It is a necessity for all members of a Church that demands participation by its very sacramental nature. Ignorance stands in the way of the full consensual participation of individuals in the Body of Christ.
Ignorance
Of this symptom we must all claim a share.
I do not believe that most catechetical leaders have denied a substantial religious education purposely. As stated above, I believe that, in some cases, catechetical directors and catechists have assumed knowledge of information that they had learned and students were never taught. In other very rare cases, they may underestimate their students’ capacity for understanding. In other cases, they themselves may not have been confident in their own knowledge of the subject.
Regardless of our lack of knowledge we must continue to encourage students in their questioning. If we cannot help them from what we know, then we must commit to helping them find the information they seek. Our Faith, founded on Jesus, should fear no questions. The truth need fear no questions. Only the lie needs to fear questions. Still, as finite beings we must accept that though the truth can answer all questions, some questions may be beyond our capacity to answer because of our limited capacity to understand the truth. These mysteries allow us the opportunity to ponder in prayer toward a greater intimacy with God through that kind of enlightenment that changes one’s being and is so difficult to express. They also allow us an opportunity to appreciate the need for an inspired Magisterium to guard the faithful from error in pondering those mysteries that our finitude renders impossible for us to grasp.
Our Faith, founded on Jesus, should fear no questions.
Manipulation
This symptom was quite familiar to many of my generation and younger, and is still in use today. In the absence of substantial religious education, catechetical leaders believed that their role was to “get the kids to talk.” In this scenario, success in religious education classes is judged by how much the individual “shares,” despite the fact that the Church herself witnesses to the propriety of privacy in the Sacrament of Reconciliation.
This intrusive approach has guaranteed the absence from religious-education courses of some of the most intelligent and sensitive young people in our communities. Many of these young people have a much healthier sense of privacy than do some of our catechetical leaders, and no student should feel that how successful he or she is in religious education depends upon how well that individual bares his or her soul. Students should not leave religious-education classes or other catechetical events feeling that their privacy has been violated. Most of our students are well-adjusted young people who have confidantes whom they trust, and they do not need to be pressured by a person representing the Church who has an unhealthy need to know what is none of that person’s business.
A scene from Shakespeare’s Hamlet may prove instructive. When Hamlet has wearied of the inept attempts of the shallow Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to “find him out” for his mother and his uncle/father, the king, he requests that Guildenstern play some music on a recorder. Guildenstern responds that he cannot, but Hamlet persists, until finally, Guildenstern states, “I have not the skill.” Hamlet responds:
Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. ‘Sblood, do you think that I am easier to be play’d on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
(Hamlet III, ii)
We have many young Hamlets in our congregations, and they resent, as well they might, misguided attempts, like the one illustrated above, to casually pluck out the hearts of their individual mysteries.
A substantial religious education guards against such unhealthy intrusions. Such a religious education helps give young people the knowledge with which to approach many of their issues and discuss them with others in a healthy way. This does not remove the catechetical director or the catechist from the role of confidante or counselor, but leaves the choice with the young person, rather than assume it without respect for that young person’s thoughts and feelings.
We have many young Hamlets in our congregations, and they resent, as well they might, misguided attempts, like the one illustrated above, to casually pluck out the hearts of their individual mysteries.
“Fun”
In guarding against manipulation, we must examine the word fun. Fun was and is the operative word for many catechetical leaders and decreasingly so for many parents. Religious education must be fun. The emphasis on this short, monosyllabic word concerns me. Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against enjoyment, even frivolity on occasion, but the question arises, “What is fun?”
“Ah, there’s the rub,” and there would seem to fit that ancient truism “different strokes for different folks.” That being the case, how do you determine what is fun for a variety of young people with a variety of tastes? One answer seems to be to have high-school students play games, some of which are physically intrusive, many of which are designed for much younger children. This will probably appeal to some, but I can relate that it did not appeal to the majority of high-school students who attended religious education in the 1970s, and I do not believe that it appeals to the majority of high-school students today. It certainly does not appeal to those who are not coming to religious-education programs that employ it. As with manipulation, many intelligent, mature students resent being forced to participate in intrusive, childish games or be branded an attitude problem.
Even if we could make religious education fun for everyone, is that how we want to order our priorities? Patrick F. McManus writes in Real Ponies Don’t Go Oink!:
Educators now take a more civilized approach and try to make learning an enjoyable experience. I agree with that. I know all my children enjoyed school much more than I did. On the other hand, none of them knows how to multiply and divide fractions. I suppose that’s part of the trade-off.
What has been the tradeoff for the catechesis of fun? Are we willing to continue accepting it?
I am not suggesting that fun be entirely removed from catechesis, but what are the limitations of the catechesis of fun. First, I am not overly confident that middle-aged catechetical leaders are the best judges of what is fun for high schoolers of today. Second, we are not going to compete with the multi-million-dollar productions of MTV for entertainment. Third, why should we substitute questionable entertainment for the enjoyment of real learning about God and God’s creation.
Certainly, students can learn about Christian fellowship on trips to amusement parks, especially if the trip is prayerfully offered up to God. But amusement parks, camping trips, lock-ins, and roller skating do not summarily dismiss the need for an academic component to catechesis, namely, a religious-education program. Sure, we can have the kids flocking to our youth-ministry events and believe that our catechetical program is successful, but we are not serving the youth if when they enter young adulthood and meet some of the crises, minor and major, of that period of life, they despair of their Catholic Faith, because they are ignorant of its truths and their access to deeper understanding of those truths that would serve them so well in their crises. It is often at that time of their lives that young people abandon the Catholic Church for fundamentalist churches that offer answers, however simplistically inadequate, with which to deal with the issues that confront them.
Perhaps, catechetical leaders need to recognize the distinction between catechesis and religious education as suggested by Thomas P. Walters and Joseph P. Leddy in their article “Religious Education: Focusing the Light of Faith” (The Living Light, Summer 1991). Whatever the case, we must offer an academic component in which the word enjoyment might better serve than fun. Then even young people who do not like to play games could find a satisfying place in catechetical programs.
Of course, without fun to fall back on, catechetical leaders will be challenged more than ever to probe the depths of the wealth of Catholic teaching to meet the needs of our young people. We will be forced to respect the fact that many young people have thoughtful questions, and that they want to know how the Catholic Church answers them, and why. This will be especially true, because without fun to fill the space, we will be more inclined to invite the challenges of young people and to respond to them from the wealth of the Tradition of our Church, growing ever more intimate, students and catechists, with that community with, in, and through which we come to know our Lord unto eternity.
Part Four to follow shortly.
Please like, share, comment, or subscribe as you feel inclined.
Thank you,
P. A. Ritzer
Thanks for reading! This post is public so feel free to share it.
This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Get full access to P. A. Ritzer at paritzer.substack.com/subscribe