Communion & Evangelization: A Lesson from Evangelii Gaudium

It’s Worth Repeating Wednesday! This post originally appeared on April 9, 2014.

Recently I was asked to participate in a panel discussion on Pope Francis’ apostolic exhortation, Evangelii Gaudium. The instructions one usually receives upon agreeing to be part of such an activity normally only extend as far as: “Just make a brief presentation on something that struck you in the text.” The instructions in this case would be no different. The following, therefore, is a short mediation on what I understand to be a great lesson to be learned, or reminder to be noted, from Evangelii Gaudium.

When one normally conceives of evangelization, a phrase often used is “handing on the faith.” While a good phrase, a temptation can be to understand faith strictly as it relates to the intellect. In other words, faith relates to what we believe, what we know as disclosed by divine revelation. Accordingly, missionary and evangelizing activity can be seen strictly as a task which communicates these truths to others. I am not attempting to disparage this task. In fact, this is precisely what I do every day in the classroom, i.e., communicate the truths of the faith as intelligibly as I can for my students. But the goal of evangelization is not a full understanding of the Catholic faith, rather, it is communion: communion with God and one another in the Church.

In this apostolic exhortation, Pope Francis is reminding us that “handing on the faith” is not simply an intellectual activity. Rather, and primarily, “handing on the faith” is the communication of God’s love for us; a love which is personal. As St. Paul wrote: “I live by faith in the Son of God who has loved me and given himself up for me” (Gal 2:20). For Pope Francis, as for St. Paul, faith cannot be separated from love in our evangelizing activity. It is “the love of Christ [that] urges us on” (2 Cor 5:14) in our missionary vocation, and impels our desire to seek out the least of Christ’s brothers (cf. Mt 25:40).

One passage of Evangelii Gaudium which, I think, points to this relationship between communion, love and evangelization, is the first section of chapter one, entitled, A Church which Goes Forth (Una Chiesa in uscita). This is more strictly translated as “A Church Going Forth,” a church active and in the process of reaching out. In this section Pope Francis mentions that the missionary impulse of the Church stems from the love of God who loved us first (cf. 1 Jn 4:19), and who calls us to be servants of one another (cf. Jn 13:17); thus forming an evangelizing community which “goes forth” in service. This service is not a disengaged and aloof didacticism, but an immersion in and among the evangelized, a taking on of “‘the smell of the sheep,’” a forming of communion in the one who has laid down his life for his sheep (cf. Jn 10:15).

This is the great reminder, I believe, of this apostolic exhortation: that the goal of evangelization is not knowledge but communion in love. This is the joy of the Gospel, that “God never tires of forgiving us” (§ 3) and constantly calls us into communion with Himself and, thereby, with one another.

Anthony Coleman teaches theology for Saint Joseph’s College Online.

 

Vita Accidit

Anthony (Nino) Pio Coleman

Anthony (Nino) Pio Coleman

I had intended – with great anticipation – to submit a post in commemoration of the saint whose memorial we celebrated yesterday, i.e., St. Benedict of Nursia, the founder of Western Monasticism and co-patron saint of Europe. While I would still like to point people in the direction of the following article concerning the “Benedict Option,” I sadly had not the time to compose said post. Mea maxima culpa. As far as excuses go, I have a pretty good one. On July 1st, my wife, son, and I welcomed a new addition into our family. His name is Antony Pio Coleman, but he is affectionately called Nino by his family.

(Bottom to Top) Moses Elias, Antony Pio, and Anthony Patrick Coleman

(Bottom to Top) Moses Elias, Antony Pio, and Anthony Patrick Coleman

By a very Catholic coincidence, Nino happens to be named after the great founder of monasticism in Eastern Christianity, St. Antony the Great of Egypt. For those who have not encountered it, St. Athanasius’ Vita Antoni is a classic of Christian Spirituality which bears much reading and re-reading. St. Augustine, for one, was moved towards his conversion by this text (cf. Conf. 8.6, 12). And while my oldest son is named in honor my wife’s grandfather, Moses, St. Moses is also another Eastern monastic saint. Thus, we seem to have a “Desert Fathers” theme as it relates to the naming of our children.

During the car-ride home from the hospital, I mentioned to my wife that I had an SJC blog post due and would likely not be able to meet my deadline. My wife, of course, suggested that I write on a topic which would be more suitable for a monograph than a blog post, and more insightful if written by a woman rather than a man. But, being a faithful husband, I shall try to convey the parallel which she drew in a few words. She was describing the process of giving birth and the sacrificial love involved in offering one’s own life for the good of another. In the Christian context, the Cross of Christ is the source and summit of this sacrificial love. And through the grace which Christ won for us on his Cross, he unites our acts of sacrificial love to his Sacrifice. Christ’s Sacrifice was perfect; our participation in his Cross adds nothing to Christ’s offering. Rather, being united to Christ benefits us, the members of the Church. Thus, St. Paul can write: “I am now rejoicing in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am completing what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church” (Col 1:24). What “is lacking” resides not with Christ, but with us. The Cross of Christ is the one, true, perfect Sacrifice, and to draw close to Christ we must draw towards the Cross. There is no Easter Sunday without Good Friday. But in doing so Christ conforms us to himself.

The greatest examples of being conformed to Christ by joining his suffering are the martyrs. During the aforementioned car-ride home from the hospital, my wife mentioned – in particular – the martyrdom account of St. Polycarp. During his execution by the Roman authorities, St. Polycarp (69-155) was surrounded by a “ring of fire.” But the fire did not consume him (cf. Ex 3:2). “[H]e was within it not as burning flesh but rather as bread being baked.” Through his witness, Polycarp was being conformed to Christ, his suffering was being united to Christ’s Sacrifice, he was being “transubstantiated” into the Eucharist.

As the parent of young children, I can only imagine the moments for sacrificial love which will appear in the near future. But, I pray, Christ uses them to bring me, my wife, and our children, into greater conformity with him. According to my wife, the birthing process has given her quite a bit of a lead on me. In that regard, I have some catching up to do.

Anthony Coleman teaches theology for Saint Joseph’s College Online.