Written by Holly Mohr, director for parish faith and family formation, Diocese of Pittsburgh, hmohr@diopitt.org
Walk into just about any Catholic church the world over, and you find yourself inside a robust multi-sensory experience. Catholicism is a tradition conversant with formation in many languages—languages heard, seen and touched. From spoken prayers, all the way through the narrative of stained-glass windows: story, doctrine, kerygma reach out from all corners.
The Curiosity of a Child in Church
As a child with curious and wandering eyes, I frequently heard the admonition that my focus ought to be “up front,” focused only on the priest. If that’s true, I remember thinking, I wonder what all these other objects are for! It seemed like such a bizarre temptation, even a waste, to fill the church with so many colorful, fascinating things when all they amounted to was an “occasion of sin,” a temptation away from the main action happening in front of me. Having children now myself, I can understand so many adults’ concerns: children do require a good bit of reminding about the central drama of the liturgy; yes, our attention ought to be focused on the action in the sanctuary.
That being said, as I grew into adulthood and started spending more time in churches of my own volition, I began to forgive my curious childhood self a little more, wondering if maybe those adults had not seen the whole picture. In college, I would go sit inside empty churches, experiencing the mystery of God in the silence. I experienced the wonder of God in the candles sending individuals’ prayers up to the heavens. Later, working in parish formation, I had the privilege of introducing others to the “stuff” of the church. During sacramental formation days, my pastor and I would lead elementary schoolers and adult RCIA candidates around the church space, asking what objects caught their eyes.
Discovering Meaning in Sacred Objects
Children and adults would point to the tabernacle, the sanctuary lamp, the ambo, the Paschal candle. We would explore the colors of the vestments and the texture of the chalices. Every single one of these objects offered a portal into the mystery of God; each provided a unique entryway for the discoverer. Different children noticed different objects; some adults were moved by statues and sacramentals. Yet each sacramental object and piece of art finds its place within our church spaces because each one has meaning. Every single one is connected to the Good News that a loving, creative God entered this world, poured out his power to liberate us from the forces of sin and death and remains with us today to lead us to fullness of life.
That is the message of the sanctuary lamp, reminding us of the presence of Christ within the tabernacle; it is the message of the colors of the vestments, guiding us through the experience of the liturgical year; it is the message of the ambo, allowing our community to hear and proclaim the Word of God.
A Pedagogy of Reverent Exploration
Certainly, as educators and formators, we are rightly concerned with offering a presentation of the fullness of the faith. Yet I urge us to look again at the pedagogy of our worship spaces. Those spaces are filled with diversity-in-unity. Looking back on my own experience, yes, I learned to “keep my eyes up front” through all those mandatory Catholic school liturgies. But in those days, I had a thin personal relationship with God and a focus much more akin to fear than to wonder and awe. My eyes ceased to wander, but I had very little idea what I was looking at. I had to give myself permission to explore church spaces, slowly, curiously, prayerfully, to inhabit the space in a way that brought me into relationship with God and God’s people. I needed the specificity of noticing and appreciating one beautiful thing to open me to the Source of all Beauty. Our tradition has known since the days of Thomas Aquinas that we open onto the universal by means of the particular; we participate in the spiritual by means of the material.
The richness of a Catholic worship space, filled as it is with sacramentals and cultural artifacts, offers a lesson on how we might approach discourse and dialogue within our schools and faith communities. That is, can we allow reverent exploration, trusting that there is something within our tradition for everyone, something that will attract, reveal, instruct? Can we trust that though we all may be drawn to the mystery of God by different means, different languages, those languages have the capacity to speak a Word of new life? Let us not be afraid of specificity, of process, of curiosity and challenge!
As formators, our work is to help individuals and communities find an entry-point, a portal into the mystery, with reverence and discernment. Culture wars have taught us suspicion of “the other;” they have taught us to panic that each individual is not experiencing the faith in the precise way we experience it. We can get so nervous when we’re not all looking in the same direction. But there are many paths. Christ reminds us, “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places” (John 14:2). Let us remember the beauty of our churches, with their many languages, many entry points. May we find the courage to guide those in our care in finding their own entrances, their own dwelling places, each one prepared by the Father.
