On being Catholic AND Evangelical
As I lift my hands and recite the liturgy of the Mass alongside my brothers and sisters young and old in the pews, I recognize that I share few of their experiences. The majority are "cradle" Catholics, nurtured in the cultural traditions of childhood and adolescent catechesis, the steps of Baptism, First Communion, and Confirmation clear benchmarks on the journey into the community. Those few who have embraced faith from the outside often come from irreligious or agnostic backgrounds. Even if they received some form of the sacrament of baptism or teaching in another Christian tradition, it means little to their faith journeys. Of course I generalize, but you get my point. After all, so few of them can sing at all! When so many wonder why a faith-filled young man on fire for Jesus and busy at work in the ministry of evangelism, social justice, and scripture study would forsake his evangelical identity for the Catholic tradition, they raise valid points. I was, and am, truly empowered by my evangelical Protestant heritage. The fundamental misunderstanding lies in what people assume is a disconnect from one to the other. I declare what can only be experienced and lived: I do not forsake one tradition to join another. This evolution is part of the same seamless garment, as inextricable as the unity Jesus enjoyed with the Father in his relationship.
This non-duality is shared by those of us who share consciousness with multiple ethnic or racial groups. As a multiracial Latino and Anglo-American man, I am often categorized or forced to identify myself according to a set of mutually exclusive criteria. Am I White? Am I Mexican? What do I mean when I say "Yes" to either of these prompts? A growing number of young Americans share in this dilemma. The census itself was forced to account for the unique situation of Latinos, since we are a people that transcend racial boundaries in our very mestizaje, that blend of indigenous and colonial blood that evolves into the unique brownness that threatens many, and which I celebrate in my own identity. Sadly, this division and misunderstanding is even more rampant in the Christian community. To be evangelical is to identify with a certain political affiliation. It is to value the Bible above all else. It is to declare the lordship of Christ for my personal salvation. I find this interesting, considering how little Jesus himself told people to call him Lord, and instead to follow him.
Luckily, the leadership of such prominent Catholics and evangelical ecumenists in art, music, and entertainment has left the dusty theology of our forefathers in question. One writer puts that the Catholic faith is inherently evangelical. Even a quick glance at Catholic social teaching will find quite a bit in common with the conservative evangelical code of ethics on the sanctity of life. You see, people of my so-called postmodern generation are much more indebted to Rob Bell's poetic vignettes on faith and Shane Claiborne's clarion calls to passionate action on behalf of the poor than any hard-line apologetics or doctrines. It seems that we find the appeal in that age-old wisdom of Saint Francis true: our lives should speak of the truth of the Gospel as much, and even more than, our words. Yet it is a call to embrace both, and.
Both words and actions.
Both faith and works.
Both. This concept will lead to the heart of my journey into the Catholic faith. No longer do the tough literal constraints of "metaphorical" or "symbolic" fit. What type of Christology denies both the full humanity and full divinity of Jesus? True, the early church wrestled with this for the better part of 400 years, battling heresy, schisms, and controversy along the way. But in that journey we found the nugget of passionate defense, passionate community. The true definition of catholic, which means universal. As the years went on, we struggled to articulate our creeds in a way that proved congruent with the effective mission of the church. Even the organization I work for and proudly represent has a doctrinal statement deeply indebted to the evangelical Protestant tradition. I have had to defend this doctrine, even at the expense of my better judgment as an "enlightened" member of a eucharistic community. A few points to consider from that statement:
- The unique divine inspiration,
entire trustworthiness
and authority of the Bible. - The value and dignity of all people:
created in God’s image to live in love and holiness,
but alienated from God and each other because of our sin and guilt,
and justly subject to God’s wrath.Jesus Christ, fully human and fully divine,who lived as a perfect example,
who assumed the judgment due sinners by dying in our place,
and who was bodily raised from the dead and ascended as Savior and Lord.
My only point in highlighting these is the nature of our evangelical value for scripture. Did you notice how the talk about the Bible comes before salvation and Jesus and his role in our cosmos? Hmm. As a Catholic, I understand that a part of the grace entrusted to the mission of the church was to be a living source of authority. This was to ensure that the ministry entrusted to the apostles was a true procession of the authority of Christ, who, after all, was one who taught with authority. Like it or not, we owe all our scriptural authority, and the canon of the Bible for that matter, to those great minds and hearts that decided to organize the doctrine in the early days of the church. I recognize that different traditions essentially understood the role of the apostolate up to a certain point. The Eastern Orthodox church, for example, worked out most of their theological concerns in the first seven centuries. Thus the liturgy, theology, and teaching of the church remains rooted in this ancient heritage. It is a refreshing change from the bitter divides over modern biblical interpretation and scrutiny.
This is not to say that I do not have my qualms with the authority of the church. In the same sense that I regard some passages in the Bible as sexist, offensive, and cruel, I also know that fallible humans shaped the church over its history, and some are responsible for great sins and wounds down the line. Authority and Scripture seem to run hand in hand when it comes to the fragility of its usage in the hands of vessels such as us. There are certain teachings with regard to the language of the Mass (in regards to the offering and sacrificial rituals), Mary (obvious to any Protestant) and the role of women in the church that I staunchly disagree with. There are also many cultural associations in the church, particularly in the Latino Catholic community, that are troubling and detract from the heart of our worship as a community, even though these are little more than folk traditions and have nothing to do with official church teaching. Yet I am learning that obedience precedes understanding, or even accord. Ask Peter, Paul, or any of the martyrs who went to their deaths for the sake of the gospel. I am glad, eschewing any accusations of "idolatry" that there is a place to honor and invite this living community into our worship. I have never had qualms with the communion of saints. The candles, images, and words invite one to see heaven crashing into earth. Isn't this the great promise that our Lord left us when he described the kingdom?
Back to the point: I refuse to disown my heritage as an evangelical, for it is only through this foundation that I could have been given the faith to take these steps. I believe it is essential for the believer's free will to engage in the sacraments that our Lord institues by His grace. Thus I am still proudly an evangelical. I partook in the proud heritage of the Baptist 'sacrament' of full immersion. It is in this that I sense the true nexus between my upbringing and my decision to join the eucharistic community. I admire the theology behind infant baptism; the true sign of grace that flows from the declaration of a community accountable to the faith of the infant: without reason, insight, or free decision, the young are consecrated and declared in salvation by the blood and life of Christ. Yet I believe with my whole heart that salvation is an action that we must receive as willing vessels. Even the titan of our faith, the blessed virgin Mary, showed her faithfulness in saying "Yes" to the Spirit in her own power. I am indebted to my three years in the Charismatic church, where I let my qualms with misguided theology and sentimentalism open me up to incredible mystical and deeply moving encounters with the Holy Spirit. Heck, I even played in that church today. After all, it is not only about good theology. You could say that these experiences helped soften my heart to experiencing God outside my parameters, where my defenses wouldn't shoot down something that was new, unfamiliar, or even uncomfortable.
Anyone involved in the work of justice knows how essential experiences of displacement are for a mature faith. My friendship with Catholic brothers and sisters went from a place of displacement to a place of family. The forbidden table became an open invitation to look beyond everything and see Jesus with the eyes of my heart, hidden in the humble elements of bread and wine. What seems absurd is perfectly congruent with a Savior who declares his triumph over evil with his own bloody death on a cross. Thus here I return to that simple concept of Both. Yes, I regard the authority of the priesthood and bishops as linked to the original and true succession of authority handed down from the apostles today. I regard my involvement in the Catholic faith as uniting me with an unbroken tradition that started as Jesus broke bread with his disciples in the Upper Room and withstood persecution, empires, crusades, and countless forces stacked against it. Jesus' words come true. The gates of hell shall not prevail against it. What's more, we are experiencing a new springtime in the Catholic church. Our new Pope heralds a refreshing vision of what it looks like for Jesus to live in the public eye. Things left rotting in the darkness are being brought to light, even things as tragic and painful as child abuse. Simply put, my participation in this community leaves me as a strong Roman Catholic.
Some things you can help affirm in me: I am not an idolater. I do not disregard scripture, but rather revere it as essential to our life of faith. I love Jesus with my whole being, and long to be conformed more and more into his image. I am committed to the mission of spreading the good news of his death and resurrection to the ends of the earth. I will worship the Lord with my voice, talents, and life as long as I live. As one wise man who shares in the current evangelical label dilemma says, "I am an evangelical plus. It's a little more complicated than that." Well put, sir. I just hope the reactions to my idea of "plus" meet with less shock and more curiosity in this renewed season of wonder and hope. I assure you, the Catholic church has its issues (who the hell doesn't?). It is definitely not Babylon, as some accuse. I pray, my sisters and brothers, that you find me an ally in our journey to break down the dividing walls between us. Isn't this the great work of salvation that is declared to the Gentiles and Jews alike?
"For he himself is our peace, who has made the two groups one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility, by setting aside in his flesh the law with its commands and regulations. His purpose was to create in himself one new humanity out of the two, thus making peace, and in one body to reconcile both of them to God through the cross, by which he put to death their hostility." Ephesians 2:14-17
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