Recently, I came across a video clip from a “March for Australia” rally that took place in Australian state and territory capitals on 31 August 2025, in which a senior academic at a Catholic institution made remarks that left me deeply unsettled.
In the video, the speaker – entrusted with the moral and intellectual formation of young Catholics – appears to suggest that Australia, from the time of European settlement, has always rightfully belonged to Anglo-Europeans. The clear implication was that national identity is something primarily, or even exclusively, tied to British heritage – a view that presents the country’s history through a narrow, ethnically defined lens.
What makes this rhetoric particularly concerning is that it draws on a well-worn tradition in Australia’s history, in which racialised understandings of national belonging tend to emerge not as a constant, fully systemic reality, but in waves – often in response to economic stress, political uncertainty, or social change. These waves typically target specific groups, who are scapegoated for broader structural problems.
Today, the targets may be Indian migrants; in previous decades, it was Asians, Italians, Lebanese, and Greeks, among others. These groups have been blamed for everything from housing shortages to wage stagnation – issues that are far more complex than the presence of migrants, but which get recast into a familiar politics of grievance.
In this context, advocating for a return to a homogenous or “original” Australian identity – or even a dominant Anglo-Saxon cultural “supermajority” as advocated by the Catholic academic – becomes not only historically reductive, but deeply exclusionary. It erases the contributions of generations of migrants who have played a vital role in shaping this nation’s social, cultural, and economic life. It also ignores the profound diversity of contemporary Australia, built not on a single ethnic foundation but on mutual respect and the contributions of many cultures engaging across generations.
Such notions are also based on a flawed premise: that there exists a coherent, singular “ethnogenesis” of an Australian ethnicity, which can be traced back to a defined cultural moment and preserved in amber. In reality, this is in fact a qualified social constructivist fantasy, resting on arbitrary start and end dates, or imagined histories that never fully existed. National identity, like culture, is dynamic and evolving. To claim otherwise is to deny the complexity and multiplicity of the Australian story.
Perhaps the only genuinely systemic racial issue in Australia – one which has never arrived in waves but been embedded in our national foundations – is our unresolved relationship with First Nations Australians. Political and cultural institutions have operated as though colonial history is the only real beginning, failing to fully acknowledge and reconcile with the fact that this land was inhabited by First Nations peoples for millennia before British arrival. The presumption that modern Australia starts and ends with colonisation is itself a form of historical revisionism, so often built into the very way we tell our national story.
But racism in Australia is not confined to history, nor is it always directed from majority to minority. It also exists within and between migrant communities, some of whom define themselves in opposition to wider Australian society or to other minority groups. This complexity demands an honest reckoning, recognising that racial prejudice can be internalised, redirected, or replicated across communities, especially when identity feels precarious or under threat.
Catholic institutions, in particular, must be vigilant in how they navigate these dynamics. There is a sobering historical reality here: racism has existed within the Church itself. While the Church has made important strides since then, its members must continually examine how their message and witness either confront or reinforce such ideologies.
Today, the vitality of the Catholic Church in Australia is closely tied to migrant communities. With declining religious participation among the broader population, the continued health of parishes, vocations, and Catholic schools increasingly depends on those who have arrived from the Philippines, India, Vietnam, Africa, and the Middle East. Ongoing racism, especially when implied by Catholic leaders, risks alienating the very people who sustain the Church’s mission and presence in this country.
This is why the remarks at the rally a fortnight ago are so troubling. If such a worldview were to influence the ethos of our Catholic institutions, it would raise serious concerns about how the Western tradition and the Church’s vision of human community are being taught – and to whom they are seen as belonging.
The Western tradition is a profound and meaningful inheritance, forged in the synthesis of Greek philosophy and the Judeo-Christian faith, but it is not the exclusive property of any one people. To conflate it with whiteness or Britishness is to distort both its content and its purpose. At its best, this tradition is capacious – a treasure open to all who seek truth, beauty, and goodness. It is meant to be shaped by, and shared with, people from every nation and background, animated by the universal vision of the Catholic faith.
As Pope Benedict XVI frequently affirmed, the heart of the Christian intellectual tradition lies in its openness to truth wherever it is found, and in its call to unity grounded not in ethnicity, but in the inherent dignity of every human person. When a speaker espouses ethnocentric nationalism and simultaneously teaches the Western tradition, it raises a serious concern: that this tradition is at risk of being misused or subtly misrepresented – not as a source of communion, but as a Trojan horse for racial and cultural exclusion.
The speaker’s language – especially references to a unifying Anglo-European “crimson thread of blood,” which echoes Sir Henry Parkes but also carries troubling connotations of ethnic and racial purity – and the portrayal of Australia as fundamentally an Anglo-European project, dangerously approaches an ethnonationalism that the Church explicitly condemns. This is not the vision of nations embraced by Pope Benedict XVI, who warned against nationalism elevated above ethics and the rights of others, describing such tendencies as “a demonic force and the source of terrible disasters”.
When such ideas are voiced by figures in Catholic academic leadership and applauded by audiences that include far-right nationalists – met with triumphant shouts of “Amen” – they risk aligning Catholic witness with ideologies that are not only politically extreme but, as we have seen in countries like the United States, can escalate into acts of real-world violence when cloaked in religious or moral legitimacy.
As someone born in Western Sydney to migrant parents – whose family has worked diligently, contributed generously, and wholeheartedly embraced this country as their own – I find these implications deeply troubling. Regardless of the speaker’s intent, the message received is one that questions the belonging and legitimacy of many millions of Australians, simply because of their diverse origins. It strikes at the heart of a shared history, contribution, and identity.
Catholic institutions today face an urgent task: to form students not only with intellectual depth, but with a Gospel-rooted vision of the world – one that transcends race, class, and tribe. At a time when cultural forces seek to divide and categorise, our Catholic faith calls us to communion.
That’s why the implications of this video are so serious. This moment demands clarity – not silence or ambiguity. We must ensure that our faith and its traditions are never co-opted by narrow political or ethnic visions, which can lead people down deeply dangerous paths. The Church’s mission is universal. Her intellectual life is for all. And the future of Catholic education in this country depends on our ability to live and teach that truth with both conviction and humility. Our institutions have much to offer. But they must be courageous in defending the true scope of our tradition and the cultural wealth of our nation.
I was grateful to share some reflections on the growing opportunities for the Church in the digital space with colleagues in the Archdiocese of Sydney. As technology continues to reshape how we live, communicate, and form community, the Church finds itself at a remarkable crossroads — uniquely equipped to step into these platforms, not to replace in-person connection, but to expand its reach and deepen its mission.
Digital platforms offer more than just convenience; they open doors to connection, discipleship, and outreach in ways we have never seen before and cannot even predict. What is certain, however, is we can bring the unchanging message of Jesus to people in new ways. I believe it is a hopeful and energising time to reimagine how the Church can remain anchored in its calling while adapting to a rapidly evolving world. For those discerning next steps in mission, resource allocation, or leadership strategy, here are a few thoughts I shared that may help spark conversation, vision, and innovation in your own backyard.
Becoming Future Ready
Across the Church we are blessed with a rich tapestry of agencies and ministries – from pastoral care and parish support to catechesis, evangelisation, and works of mercy and justice. This vibrant ecosystem is already bearing great fruit. Many dioceses, apostolate and groups have strong foundations, and the Catholic Church now has a unique, unprecedented opportunity to build on this legacy. By embracing digital technology with purpose and imagination, we can extend the Church’s reach, deepen its witness, and strengthen its impact for generations to come.
In my own Archdiocese in Sydney a powerful renewal is underway, a “second spring” as it’s been described. At its heart is a profound call to personal conversion – a deeper, more engaged Christian life rooted in a genuine, lived encounter with Christ. When this encounter transforms individuals, it naturally overflows into acts of service, generosity, authentic community, and courageous proclamation. This ripple effect breathes life into the whole Church.
Looking ahead, the International Eucharistic Congress to take place in Sydney in three years promises to fill our sails with fresh wind – increasing engagement across parish life, evangelisation, fundraising, advocacy, and service to those in need. Its success will be measured not just by attendance but by how many are drawn into the Church’s mission from within.
A Strategic Moment for Digital Transformation
We face a strategic opportunity to expand engagement in every corner of the Church’s mission. Digital platforms and innovative tools offer scalable, powerful ways to amplify parish involvement, evangelisation efforts, fundraising, advocacy, and service delivery.
Yet, to realise this promise, I think we must invest deliberately in three critical areas: technology infrastructure, digital literacy, and content development. Embracing this change now – even amid uncertainty – is the least risky path forward. We can think of it like planting an orchard before knowing precisely how the climate will shift. We don’t yet know which fruits will thrive or how seasons will change, but we do know two things: the world is changing, and if we wait for perfect clarity, it will be too late to grow anything of lasting value. The real risk lies in standing still while the landscape transforms around us.
So, digital technology is not a threat to tradition – it is a new soil where the Gospel can take root and flourish.
Context: The Technological Transformation
We are living through a cultural shift as significant as the arrival of electricity. That earlier transformation didn’t just power existing systems – it created new ways of living, working, and connecting. Today, artificial intelligence and automation are driving a similar revolution.
AI promises to reshape economies and workforces, speeding up production, automating routine tasks, and changing how we find meaning and income. While productivity may rise, there is a risk of social fragmentation, unstable incomes, and diminished personal dignity.
Already, we see disruption in roles across administration, manufacturing, retail, finance, law, and health. The IMF estimates nearly 40% of global jobs could be impacted by AI.
Ownership of capital is shifting too. Whereas land and factories once dominated, today technology – data, algorithms, platforms – is the new capital. Yet this infrastructure is often controlled by a few powerful organisations, raising questions about access and equity. Many people may soon access rather than own essential capital – renting software, vehicles, even homes. In the future, people will own less and what they have will be by subscription.
In response, thinkers are calling for an “empathy-based economy,” one that balances innovation with care, human flourishing, and dignity. As AI takes on cognitive tasks, uniquely human gifts – empathy, emotional intelligence, spiritual discernment – will become more essential. This is where the Church’s prophetic role shines brightest. Not resisting change, but leading it with a vision rooted in the sacredness of the person, the gift of Jesus Christ, the dignity of labour, and the primacy of love and ethics in economic life.
Reaching Beyond: The Mission Field
In the city and suburbs of Sydney we enjoy one of the highest Mass attendance rates in Australia though the sum remains humbling at 10.4%, or 61,000 attenders. This means there are still over half a million Catholics who do not regularly engage with parish life. Beyond them, 2 million people within our Archdiocesan boundaries may never have encountered a living witness to the Gospel. In short, there are far more people to reach than have been reached.
Digital transformation offers bold and beautiful ways to extend the invitation. Through video, podcasts, social media reels, digital testimonies, and online series, the Church can meet people where they are – often far from a parish doorway. Many will never step foot in a church but they will watch a video; they will search for answers; they will pause while scrolling past a social media reel. They will listen to a podcast that articulates the faith with clarity and charity. They will encounter a digital testimony that bears witness to Christ’s transformative grace. They may engage with an online series that presents the truths of the faith in compelling and credible ways. They will read a well-crafted reflection that integrates the Gospel with the complexities of modern life. They may be drawn to sacred art or liturgical music shared through headphones, which stirs their heart toward transcendence. They will explore the lives of the saints with others. Digital technologies can create the ‘pause’ in people’s lives that allows the Gospel to speak.
There are great opportunities to experiment with AI, virtual reality, and emerging platforms to distribute knowledge, improve services, and bring the Gospel closer to people’s lives. However, this requires space to think, try, fail, and innovate – partnering with digital creatives, Gen Z entrepreneurs, artists, and developers who already shape culture online. Inviting them into the Church’s digital mission could infuse it with energy, authenticity, and excellence.
Technology can be a “force multiplier,” extending the reach of ministries and deepening Gospel engagement. But without the human heart – creativity, pastoral wisdom, prayer – technology remains potential without impact.
We could imagine AI-powered tools answering everyday queries, freeing up clergy and staff for mission. Or a central platform where clergy and parish teams can access all communications in one place – including memos, updates, forms, events, and support resources. With secure login, it would offer smart notifications based on role, vocation or responsibility (e.g. a priest might receive instant push notifications about liturgical directives, while a parish secretary receives reminders about compliance deadlines), a shared calendar that syncs with personal devices, a searchable archive of past messages (with statements and updates stored, searchable and timestamped), and a simple way to ask questions or give feedback.
No doubt there would be details to work out and it means habituating clergy and parishes into using such technology which takes effort but, as we already know, digital systems and archiving can save an enormous amount of later effort through efficiency, free up time for more mission-oriented work and reduce time spent on administrative catch up. Most new initiatives will gain more traction when framed as pastoral opportunities, rather than a mere tech upgrade.
Data-driven systems can track faith journeys, strengthen formation, and personalise outreach – building a more missionary, welcoming Church. This enables the Church to understand who is coming to faith as adults, their motivations, and how they engage over time. Such insights are critically important for building a more responsive Church. Where the Church once shaped the message and the medium, today it is the audience, guided by algorithms and personal habit, who decides what is seen, heard, and believed.
AI can accelerate multilingual engagement and customise content to meet diverse communities with cultural sensitivity. making formation more contextualised so that everyone feels seen, heard, and invited. We can create and schedule social media posts in multiple languages, reaching different language groups with culturally sensitive messaging and invitations to parish life or special events.
Digital platforms also open new horizons for fundraising and advocacy – connecting local causes with global communities, turning parish projects into worldwide movements. If a local animal shelter in Ohio can raise funds through short reels on TikTok, raising 15,000 new followers as a donor base, and surpassing their goal by 300% in 10 days, so the Church could do the same. Church communities have done so, supporting clean water projects in Uganda and other mission related causes, breaking geographic boundaries and turning community projects into global efforts.
Technology is shaping culture profoundly. As Pope Leo XIV reminded us recently, this technological age will transform how people seek truth, belonging, and encounter God. The opportunity before us as a Church is not just to adopt new tools but to reimagine the Church’s mission through them – to go wide and deep, reach the margins, and enrich the centre. We have a firm foundation of faith, the vision given to us by Jesus’ Great Commission to make disciples of all nations, and the momentum built by generations of faithful witnesses in our Church.
Now is the time to plant the orchard and trust the Spirit to bring the harvest.
On Friday 27 June 2025, the Feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, I was privileged to speak at the inaugural Holy Shroud Conference at Liverpool Catholic Club. In preparing for the introductory address, I was drawn more deeply into the mystery of Christ’s Passion – not merely as historical event but as a living reality, imprinted not only on linen cloth but on our human situation today. The Shroud invites us to contemplate the face of the suffering Christ, to consider what it means that God chose to reveal Himself not in splendour, but in the vulnerability of a broken body out of love for us. I’m grateful to the organisers for their vision and hospitality, and to all those who came – not simply to learn more about a cloth, but to seek the One it points to: Jesus Christ, crucified and risen. May devotion to His Sacred Heart draw us ever closer to the love that knows no bounds.
First, let me thank you for your warm welcome and for gathering for this significant conference. It is an honour to be here with you tonight, and I bring greetings on behalf of the Archdiocese of Sydney.
I warmly welcome our esteemed speakers Fr Andrew Dalton, David Rolfe, William West and Dr Paul Morrissey, and congratulate the organising committee for bringing this opportunity to gather around the mystery of the Shroud in this Jubilee Year of Hope.
The topic before us, the Shroud of Turin, is one that has intrigued believers and non-believers alike for centuries. And in recent decades, it has become increasingly clear that the Shroud is not merely a religious curiosity. It is, in fact, one of the most extraordinary artefacts in human history. For many, it is a relic. For all of us, it is a mystery. And for those who seek truth, it can be a profound source of encounter with the Gospel.
We are living in an age that hungers for evidence, for the tangible, for something real, especially when it comes to faith. And it is here that the Shroud speaks powerfully.
Many now know that there is a great deal of scientific and historical evidence suggesting that the Shroud could not have been the work of a medieval forger, as claimed by the carbon dating results of 1988. In fact, the deeper we delve, the more difficult it becomes to dismiss the Shroud as merely a product of human hands.
What is often less well known is that many leaders within the Catholic Church have expressed not just interest, but belief in the authenticity of the Shroud. Among them are the past three popes – Pope John Paul II, Benedict XVI, and Pope Francis – each of whom made personal pilgrimages to venerate the Shroud.
Each of them stood before it not as sceptics, but as men of prayer and reverence, seeing in it a profound connection to the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
When Pope John Paul II visited the Shroud in 1980, he called it a “distinguished relic linked to the mystery of our redemption”. Eighteen years later, after the carbon dating controversy, he returned, this time thanking God for what he called “this unique gift”. That is no small statement. No pope would thank the Lord for a forgery.
More than that, John Paul II called us to gaze upon the Shroud with what he described as “the believer’s loving attention and complete willingness to follow the Lord”. In those words, he gently redirected us – not to get lost in the science or the debate – but to encounter the One whose image we believe is preserved on that cloth.
Pope Benedict XVI went further, stating that the Shroud had “wrapped the remains of a crucified man in full correspondence with what the Gospels tell us of Jesus”. Pope Benedict, who was always precise with his language, offered here a clear rebuttal to the carbon dating claims.
Even Dr Michael Tite, the man who oversaw that 1988 testing, later admitted in a 2016 BBC interview that he had come to believe a real human body had indeed been wrapped in the Shroud.
Pope Francis made pilgrimage to the Shroud in 2015. He not only prayed before it. He reached up and touched it. With great reverence, he said: “In the face of the Man of the Shroud, we see the faces of many sick brothers and sisters… victims of war and violence, slavery and persecution”.
For Pope Francis, the Shroud was not just about the past. It is about Christ’s presence among the suffering of today. And so the Shroud remains a powerful sign of hope as it witnesses to Christ’s solidarity with all those who suffer, who carry heavy burdens of illness, poverty, war, and injustice. It speaks to them not only of Christ’s passion, but of His enduring compassion – a reminder that they are not alone in their pain.
The late Pope concluded, saying: “By means of the Holy Shroud, the unique and supreme Word of God comes to us: Love made man… the merciful love of God who has taken upon himself all the evil of the world to free us from its power”. That is the evangelical heart of the Shroud. It is a silent sermon, a visual Gospel, a testimony in linen to the mystery of divine mercy.
In the context of this new pontificate, one cannot fail to recognise the providential continuity in Pope Leo XIV’s choice of name — Leo — which echoes that of his venerable predecessor, Pope Leo XIII, who in his own time zealously fostered devotion to the Holy Face of Jesus. This resonance serves as a quiet reminder that the Church’s memory is long, and that the Lord continues to speak to every age through signs both old and ever new.
Other Church leaders in our day have also drawn attention to the Shroud’s powerful witness. Just this past Easter, Bishop Robert Barron reflected in his Easter Sunday homily on the burial cloths mentioned in the Gospel of John. He called them “strange and wonderful cloths” and said they “opened the door to faith long ago”, and may well do the same today. Rather than referring to the Shroud as a mere “icon”, Bishop Barron described it as a relic, “one that is venerated as the cloth the disciples Peter and John saw on Easter Sunday morning”.
He is not alone. Popular priests such as Fr Mike Schmitz and Fr Andrew Dalton, who we are blessed to have as a speaker at this very conference, have powerfully and effectively evangelised through their engagement with the Shroud, especially among younger Catholics.
But perhaps most remarkable is the Shroud’s impact beyond the Church. Over the years, it has impressed and even converted many non-believers – atheists, agnostics, and sceptics who were drawn into a journey of faith by what they encountered in the scientific and spiritual mystery of the Shroud. It has spoken, too, to Protestants and Jewish seekers. Some have testified that their belief in God was rekindled through their encounter with the Shroud and the sense of the supernatural it evokes.
This brings me to what I believe is the Shroud’s most urgent and timely gift: its power to evangelise.
The Shroud is not just a matter of interest for scholars or theologians. It is something ordinary Catholics, young and old, can share in conversations with friends, colleagues, even strangers. It opens the door to a conversation not only about Christ’s suffering, but about His love, about His sacrifice, about the reality of the Resurrection.
And in a world that is increasingly sceptical of faith, increasingly disengaged from tradition, the Shroud is a bridge. It offers people a reason to pause, to question, to wonder.
It invites them to consider: Could this really be the burial cloth of Jesus? And if it is, what does that mean for my life?
After all, we live in an age in which so many do not believe in God, and yet so many still miss Him – a time when people chase progress without presence, and in which a Shroud, paradoxically, unveils something about life: a mystery that speaks to us, a silence that invites us to respond, a hiddenness that in Christ reveals us to ourselves, as sons and daughters of the crucified Son of God.
So, this evening, as we begin our conference, I encourage each of you not only to listen and learn, but to reflect on how you might carry this message forward. How the Shroud might be part of your own call to evangelise – to bear witness to a love that left its mark not only on human history, but on a simple linen cloth that continues to confound, inspire, and convert.
Thank you for your commitment to this mission. May the Man of the Shroud draw us ever closer to His heart.
I’ve just returned from an inspiring visit to New Zealand, where I had the privilege of working with several dioceses who gathered in Palmerston North and with Fr Simon Story and the vibrant parish community of New Plymouth. This parish is courageously stepping into a new way of being Church – one that is not driven by busyness, maintenance, or self-preservation, but by a deep and intentional commitment to evangelisation.
What follows are reflections shared during a breakfast meeting with the Parish Pastoral Council of New Plymouth. As a relatively new Council, we were exploring together their unique role within parish life, in collaboration with the Senior Leadership Team, parish staff, and the wider faith community. In my experience, the effectiveness of a parish’s mission is often shaped by how each body within it understands its identity and purpose – and the Parish Pastoral Council is a key example of this dynamic. I sought to engage the metaphor of a building site to draw out the different but interrelated roles of parish bodies as they seek to build God’s Church.
The Parish as a Movement, Not a Monument
Many parish communities today are asking hard but necessary questions: How do we grow again? How do we bring people back or reach those who’ve never come? How do we move beyond simply maintaining what we have, and step into the bold mission we’ve been given by Christ in his Great Commission?
These questions do not signal failure; they mark a turning point. What is needed is a new way of seeing the parish itself – not as a finished product, a heritage site, or merely a place we visit once a week, but as a living construction site.
This metaphor captures the parish not as a static monument, but as a dynamic, Spirit-filled mission still very much in progress. It is a place where every person is called to participate, where the work is ongoing, and where God’s house is being built – not just for us, but for the whole world.
At the heart of it all is God in Christ – the ‘Master Builder’ or divine architect of communion and mission, the One who calls, gathers, equips, and sends. God does not dwell in buildings made by human hands alone, but in the people who gather, grow, and go out in His name. It is God’s mission that builds the Church, and our parishes only have life and meaning if they align with His eternal design: that all might know His love and come home to Him.
Many in our communities remain spiritually homeless. Some have never stepped inside a church while others sit quietly in the pews, uncertain whether they are truly part of the mission or simply occasional users of the space. Many say they do not believe in God but still miss His presence in their life and feel this absence at turning points in their life. A missionary parish must always ask, “Who are we building for?” The answer is everyone, especially those without a spiritual home.
Building God’s house, then, means more than creating a welcoming space. It calls us to go out, extend invitations, and form a community of disciples who actively join in the work of building alongside us.
The Priest and Senior Leadership Team: Architects of the Vision
Every construction site begins with a vision. Experience has shown that the parish priests of the most fruitful and growing parishes, both locally and abroad, have established senior leadership teams. While models may vary, the priest and this team can well serve as the architects of the parish vision. Their role is to pray, discern, and shape the mission of the parish, to draft the blueprint for a vibrant community where Christ is the cornerstone and ensure that the parish remains on track.
They must ensure that what is being created is not just beautiful or functional, but mission-shaped: open to the world, inviting to the lost, and empowering to the faithful.
The priest’s leadership here is not simply to maintain, but to nurture and expand the living body of Christ. As recent popes have reminded us, the Church is not called to self-preservation but to bold evangelisation. True pastoral leadership moves the parish beyond comfort and routine – literally out of the pews and into the streets – answering the call of the Master Builder who sends His Church to the margins, where the Gospel must be lived, proclaimed, and embodied.
Parish Pastoral Council: Engineers of Strategy and Alignment
The Parish Pastoral Council can take the blueprint provided by the parish priest and senior leadership team and help figure out how to build the parish according to its vision. As the engineers of the parish, a key role this body can play is to translate vision into action, to discern priorities, assess needs, and develop strategies that are practical and fruitful. They ensure that what’s being built is sound – not only structurally, but pastorally. They listen deeply, respond thoughtfully, and help ensure that every part of the community is included in the building process.
Some critics caution that talk of “strategy” reduces the Church’s mission to mere management or secular frameworks. This concern is valid and serves as an important reminder that any planning must remain deeply rooted in prayer, discernment, and fidelity to the Gospel. The members of the Parish Pastoral Council are not managers of a project but co-responsible stewards of a living mission. They are spiritual vision keepers, as all parishioners must be, providing ongoing feedback to the priest on overarching priorities and helping to develop plans that serve the parish’s evangelising mission.
In the New Testament, Jesus selected and trained twelve apostles, sent them out in pairs, and gave clear instructions for their mission. The early Church, guided by the apostles, organised communities, appointed leaders and made practical decisions to sustain and grow the mission under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. The members of the Parish Pastoral Council can assist the parish priest to do the same, acting as a trusted body of advisors.
Above all, council members understand that their work is not inward-facing. The Church exists to evangelise, so their strategies ask not only “What do we need inside?” but also “How do we reach those outside?” This mission-driven planning ensures that practical steps serve the spiritual calling, not the other way around.
Parish Staff: Coordinators and Witnesses on the Site
On any construction site, it is the site coordinators who keep the project moving. In the parish, this is the role of the parish staff and teams.
These team members – responsible for administration, sacramental preparation, youth ministry, communications, coordinating catechists, and other daily responsibilities – bring both professional excellence and spiritual intentionality to the site of the parish. They are not just doers or organisers but co-builders of the mission, ensuring the vision from the priest, leadership team and Council becomes real, visible and effective.
Their role goes beyond logistics. Parish staff are witnesses to the vision, as are all the baptised who bring God’s promises alive. Many people in and around our parishes are still undecided: “Will I help build this? Am I a co-builder or contributor in this or just a guest passing through?” The manner in which parish staff exercise their roles becomes a living invitation to others. These frontline staff model what it looks like to move from maintenance to mission, from attendance to discipleship. They show what it looks like to be a builder of God’s house, not mere bystanders.
Parishioners: Living Stones and Craftspeople of the Kingdom
Finally, the real and necessary building takes place through the hands of the people – the parishioners – who are the ‘bricklayers’ or craftspeople of the Church. Far from being a minor or functional role, theirs is the essential work of making the vision tangible, one act of faith, service, and love at a time. Without them, no foundation is laid, no walls rise, and no mission takes shape. They are the craftspeople of the kingdom, bringing the Church to life in the world.
Every act of love, every prayer offered, every conversation of faith, every invitation made, and ministry served – these are bricks laid in love and hope. Parishioners are not consumers of a finished church, but co-creators of a living, breathing community of disciples.
They are the Church’s frontline: parents teaching the faith at home, volunteers welcoming at the door, youth leaders planting seeds of hope, welcomers providing hospitality. They are building God’s house with their lives, trusting the Master Builder to shape their efforts into something beautiful and enduring.
Conclusion
Truth be told, our parishes – as expressions and embodiments of the Lord’s house – will never be complete. They are always being built up, always expanding, especially toward those who do not yet know they have a place within. A missionary parish is not a fortress for the few but a spiritual home under construction for the many. There must always be spiritual scaffolding in place – space for more workers, room for growth, and open doors for those still unsure if they belong.
We are not building a parish only for those who already believe. We are creating a place that feeds the hungry, shelters the lost, nurtures the seeker, and sends forth the disciple. This is the kind of house God is building in the world, and we are called to build it with Him.
Our priests and their senior teams are entrusted with shaping the vision and calling others into the dream of the Master Builder. Our Parish Pastoral Councils continue designing structures and strategies that welcome and reach out to make the vision a reality. Our parish staff and ministry teams remain steadfast in coordinating and witnessing to what is possible. Above all, with faith, love, and boldness, our parishioners take up the tools and build alongside them, inviting all people to find their home in Christ.
As Psalm 127:1 reminds us, “Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labour in vain”. Let us build not a Church for ourselves, but for the world. Let us join the Master Builder and never stop building our parishes as God invites us to.
Time became something I could hold, quite literally, when I received my first watch at the age of eight, a humble Casio F91W.
Clad in a simple black resin case, with its crisp digital display and softly glowing “light” button, it offered not just functionality but a kind of wonder. That subtle green backlight, switched on with a press, felt like a secret known only to my wrist. The built-in alarm rang bright and clear, and best of all, it was mine to set. It made me feel as if I had received a piece of grown-up responsibility, one beep at a time.
In the years since, I’ve been fortunate to develop a deeper appreciation for watches – especially the mechanical kind. The intricate choreography of gears, springs, and levers inside a movement continues to fascinate me. There’s something magical about how a mainspring’s stored energy animates a balance wheel into steady oscillation and timekeeping, all within the confines of a 39mm case. Whole worlds of engineering, history, and design are tucked beneath a sapphire crystal.
While a quartz watch, powered by battery, achieves remarkable efficiency and near-perfect precision, it is, in a sense, outside of the need for human touch and is largely indifferent to the presence of its wearer. In contrast, a mechanical timepiece lives through motion or else requires winding by hand. It must be worn, carried, and kept close – in other words, it is sustained by connection.
Though an amateur collector, I’ve gradually assembled a modest yet meaningful assortment of mechanical watches, from classic Swiss chronometers to vintage, hand-wound pieces that evoke the craftsmanship and character of another era. Each watch is more than a mere object – each holds its own story and unique provenance.
Looking back on that first little Casio, and the pieces that followed over the years, I value these intricate instruments not merely for telling time, but for teaching me how to treasure it.
We can have a complicated, even fraught, relationship with time. We try to save it, make more of it, and race against it. But the fact is, time moves with or without our attention and passes with or without our consent.
Not only are we unable to master time, but we are often absent to it altogether. As the French philosopher Blaise Pascal observed in his Pensées, “We never keep to the present… We anticipate the future as too slow in coming… or we recall the past to stop it from escaping.” His words speak to a perennial human ache that St Augustine named centuries prior: our hearts are restless in the present. We are drawn forward by anxiety, pulled backward by nostalgia – anywhere but here, where life actually unfolds.
How, then, are we as Christians called to inhabit time? When I entered the Church I came to appreciate its understanding of time not as something to be resisted, outrun, or escaped but as something to be received, reverently and attentively. As the Psalmist prays, “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90). In the eyes of faith, time is not a burden to be controlled but a gift to be entered into.
Rooted in Scripture and nourished by centuries of tradition, the Church’s meditation on time understands it as sacramental – intimately bound to the mystery of the Incarnation and the unfolding drama of salvation. In Christ, eternity entered time, not to abolish it but to transfigure it, so that each moment might become a meeting place between heaven and earth.
Time, in the Church’s tradition, is not empty or even neutral, but shaped by grace and filled with invitation. As Pope Benedict XVI so beautifully reflects, “Time is not just a succession of days and years, but it is a time of salvation… each moment is penetrated by the presence of God, by His call and His grace”.
As Pascal also wrote of our human condition, “The eternal silence of these infinite spaces terrifies me.” The vastness of existence at times threatens to overwhelm us, perhaps even more so today, when that vastness floods our phones and feeds from every seeming direction. We can be left drifting and unmoored, unsure of where to rest our attention.
Yet it is precisely through Jesus Christ – the Word made flesh – that time is transfigured and drawn into purpose by the potential for encounter. In Him, who we meet in time, the scattered moments of our lives are gathered and redeemed, for “He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together” (Colossians 1:17).
No longer merely a chronological sequence, time in Christ becomes the arena where eternity is unveiled and the very medium through which we actively participate in God’s plan. Just as the eternal Word of God took flesh in Christ and entered human history, so we are invited to step into time not with fear or futility, but with hope, trusting that each moment holds the potential for grace, communion, and transformation. This profound truth calls us to embrace time not as a limitation, but as a sacred opportunity to encounter God and offer ourselves to the Lord who holds all time. As Thomas Merton puts it, “The whole idea of eternity is that it means that we have enough time to love God.”
Through the art of horology we can be reminded that time is not a force to flee, but a gift to be sanctified. In Christ, time no longer separates us from God, from one another, or even from those we have lost. It unites us.
Seen in this light, a humble watch on the wrist becomes more than an accessory, a mere gesture of style or utility. It becomes a quiet act of faith – a daily reminder that the present is not empty, that each passing second is touched by grace, and that even the smallest moment holds within it the weight of the eternal.
I’m often asked the question: “What does it take to renew a parish?” My response is typically this – it is not merely a matter of filling the calendar with events. It is not achieved through a rebrand, a new logo, or an enhanced social media presence. It does not come from establishing additional committees. Nor is it simply a matter of rearranging the furniture, updating the website, or launching another fundraising initiative. While each of these efforts may have their rightful place, on their own, they are insufficient to bring about true renewal – one that is grounded in mission and evangelisation.
In experience, the renewal of parish life does not come about by addition, but rather by return. By “return,” I do not mean a reactionary traditionalism, but a re-discovery of Christ – a re-encounter with Him and a re-expression of His life in the heart of our community.
Renewal for the Catholic parish, as wisely observed by Fr James Mallon, looks much less like adding ornaments to a dying tree and much more like returning to its roots and nourishing them back to life. Pope Benedict XVI called for this decisive return when he defined our faith not as a philosophy or a moral code, but an encounter with a person, Jesus Christ, who gives our life “a new horizon and a decisive direction” (Deus Caritas Est 1).
This encounter is not an optional addition to the Christian life. It is its very essence. It must shape everything – how we worship, how we lead, how we form and disciple our people, and how we live out Christ’s mission in the world.
When Christ is truly at the centre, this encounter does not remain a private devotion but can shape the culture of the entire community. Culture, more than any program or plan, is where faith becomes visible, credible and contagious.
As it is often said today, culture is not a mission statement nor what is printed in the parish volunteer handbook. It is the lived atmosphere of a parish. Culture is found in the conversations in the car park, the tone of the preacher, at the front doors of the parish foyer, the unspoken assumptions behind every “we’ve always done it this way.” It is what people experience, not just what we intend.
The Acts of the Apostles paints an evocative image of Christian culture embodied and alive: “They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers… and day by day the Lord added to their number” (Acts 2:42–47). This was not a policy or program. It was a living expression of shared values – Christ-centred, generous, prayerful and missionary. Culture was not a by-product but the very soil in which evangelisation took root and the Gospel spread to the very ends of the world.
Then as now, renewal in our parishes does not begin with more ministries or events. We are privileged in Sydney to host many excellent opportunities – conferences, programs, international speakers, and gatherings where people can learn, reflect and be better equipped for mission. But these initiatives are always offered with a clear understanding that the roots of parish renewal lie much closer to home. Unless parish life is receptive, vibrant, and missionary, even the best events will not bear lasting fruit. No event or initiative can replace the power of a parish alive with faith, hope, and love at its core.
True renewal begins with local leadership committed to reshaping the culture of each parish – from passive attendance to personal calling, from spectatorship to discipleship, from the questions “What do I get from here?” or “What time or energy do I have to give?” to the deeper call: “What does Christ ask of me?”. If the culture of our parishes does not change, then over time, nothing else will. That is how vital the parish is to the life and future of the Church.
It is important to recognise that even the most intentional parish culture cannot endure without clarity. Clarity necessitates a well-defined purpose, a consistent message, and unified leadership exercised by both clergy and laity, whose collaborative stewardship is essential for faithfully guiding the parish deeper into Christ’s life and mission.
It can mean the difference between aimlessly running in circles, trapped in the rut of routine parish life with little spiritual fruit, and boldly guiding a parish and its people into a renewed encounter with Christ and a committed mission to share His love.
We can see this in the contrast of the Tower of Babel to the Upper Room at Pentecost. At Babel, confusion reigned and mission stalled. At Pentecost, the Holy Spirit bestowed clarity and conviction, coming like a mighty wind that filled and shook the house, and transformed many voices into one unified message and shared mission.
It is significant to recognise that this clarity neither narrowed the Church’s mission nor made the Apostles rigid or close-minded. Rather, clarity of vision propelled their mission boldly into the waiting world, enabling them to adapt and persevere amid countless challenges.
Clarity in parish life means knowing the purpose for which we exist. It means letting the essential mission given by Christ – making disciples – shape our priorities, budgets, preaching, events and even what we say “no” to. Clarity emerges not from constant activity and frenetic busyness but from deep conviction and intentional leadership. When parish leaders lack clarity, energy is scattered and vision begins to fade. When clarity is present, people are freed to focus on what matters most: helping others encounter Jesus Christ and walk with Him as missionary disciples.
For this culture and for this clarity, there is a fundamental call to conversion of heart, of habits and in parish leadership. This begins not with mere action but with the surrender of faith. Leadership without conversion becomes performance or image management. In the same way, ministry without prayer loses its foundation and becomes sterile, or reduced to mere maintenance, or worse, quiet neglect.
One story that has always struck me as instructive for parish renewal is that of Nehemiah. Before rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem, Nehemiah prayed, fasted and wept. His leadership emerged from the furnace of dependence on God and only then did he build something enduring, even in the face of resistance and the suspicion of others. Like Nehemiah, parish leaders must be “cupbearers of the Lord”, stewarding not just tasks but spiritual vision and communal growth.
If the vision of the parish is to be a community called by God, gathered around Christ in Word and Eucharist, and sent forth in the power of the Holy Spirit, then this vision must be woven into every conversation, every homily, every ministry, and every decision. Parishes do not drift naturally toward missionary vitality. They drift toward comfort, maintenance, and the familiar.
Too often, a parish calls people forward not for mission, but for the survival of its own structures as Pope Francis was only too keen to point out. Such a community might summon people forward to ministries, tasks, and functions for which there is never enough help. People are engaged to “fill the gaps”, and with this deficiency mindset of managed decline, the parish’s best energy is spent maintaining systems that bear little fruit.
However, the Church is not meant to merely survive and Christ deserves more than maintenance. The Church is called to proclaim, to disciple, to bear fruit that will last (Jn 15:16). Christ deserves more than our leftovers. What He calls forth is not self-preservation or resignation, but the transformation of lives in Him.
The question is no longer whether this kind of renewal is possible. We’ve seen it – in communities here in Sydney and in parishes across the world. The real question is whether we are willing to undergo the kind of interior conversion and communal commitment that such renewal demands. It is a question of surrender and of sustained resolve. Are we prepared to lead differently, live differently, and love differently to become the Church Christ calls us to be?
The Church of tomorrow is being shaped by the choices we make today, by leaders who keep the “main thing” the main thing: Jesus Christ as truly good news for every human heart. We must continue to cultivate parishes where the culture reflects Christ, where clarity shapes our vision, and where conversion is not a one-time event but the ongoing heartbeat of parish renewal. This remains our vision in Sydney. Only this kind of Church, anchored in Christ, led by the Spirit, and formed through prayerful conviction, will have the power to truly transform lives.
It’s good to be back in this little corner of the internet. I’ve been meaning to revive this blog, and what better time than now, right after the election of Pope Leo XIV and his inauguration this weekend. Along with that momentous event, I’ve also been working on a podcast with Dr Matthew Tan, called Awkward Asian Theologians (you can find it here). Our talks have been a mix of deep dives and messy tangents, pushing me to think more critically about current events and how they mesh with theology. So, I’m hoping to be more active here, sharing some reflections as they come.
To kick things off, I’ve been mulling over the inauguration of Pope Leo XIV, and what it reveals about the fascinating intersection of biography, theology, and pastoral vision. A few thoughts below.
With the inauguration of Pope Leo XIV this weekend, a new chapter in the life of the Church begins. Every new papacy brings fresh insight and particular emphases, shaped by the unique biography of the man who assumes the Chair of Peter. It is both natural and proper that a pope’s reception of revelation, his pastoral vision and his theological orientation are deeply influenced by his life experiences. In essence, biography shapes theology.
We’ve seen this dynamic play out in recent history. The profound personal loss and political oppression endured by Karol Wojtyła in Nazi- and Communist-occupied Poland left a lasting mark on his papacy as John Paul II. His unwavering focus on the dignity of the human person and the relationship between faith and reason was, in part, a response to totalitarian systems that denied both. Similarly, the horrors of World War II shaped Joseph Ratzinger’s theological outlook. As Benedict XVI, he confronted the spiritual emptiness of post-war modernity, urging the Church to rediscover a personal encounter with Christ, the source of true meaning. Then there was Jorge Mario Bergoglio, formed by Argentina’s “Dirty War” and his leadership as a Jesuit provincial, who brought a pastoral vision to the papacy focused on mercy, humility, and a preferential option for the poor. Each of these popes read the signs of the times through the lens of their own lives, and their theological vision was shaped accordingly.
Pope Leo XIV arrives with a similarly rich and distinctive biography. Born into a working-class family in mid-twentieth-century Chicago, with French, Italian, and Spanish roots, he grew up amidst the challenges and diversity of a rapidly changing America. His early academic formation in mathematics and philosophy suggests a mind trained in both precision and wonder. His missionary work in Peru placed him at the heart of communities marked by hardship and faith – experiences that no doubt deepened his concern for the marginalised and sharpened his sense of the Church’s global responsibility. Later, as Prior General of the Augustinian Order, his leadership was informed by his doctoral studies at the Gregorian University, where he explored the Augustinian vision of authority not as control or domination, but as service offered in love.
This Augustinian inheritance profoundly shapes Leo XIV’s spiritual and theological identity. As a self-acknowledged “son of St Augustine”, Leo XIV’s papacy will undoubtedly reflect the deep theological currents drawn from the life and thought of Augustine of Hippo. As an Augustinian friar and scholar, Pope Leo XIV draws not only from Augustine’s doctrinal insights but from the deeper well of his lived experience – one marked by struggle, restlessness and eventual surrender to grace. Like recent popes, Augustine’s journey reminds us that theology is never abstract; it is always, in some way, a response to the life that we have lived.
St Augustine’s own life is one of the Church’s earliest and most powerful accounts of conversion. Born in what is now Algeria in 354, Augustine’s youth was marked by ambition, intellectual pride and moral wandering. He lived with a concubine and fathered a child out of wedlock; he joined the Manichaeans, drawn to their dualistic philosophy, before growing disillusioned. “I had become a great riddle to myself” he would later write in his Confessions, identifying the inner conflict that drove his restless search for truth.
This search ultimately led him to Milan, where the preaching of St. Ambrose and the influence of Neoplatonic philosophy helped him reimagine both God and self. It was in a garden – so often a site of new beginnings and blessing – that Augustine underwent his decisive transformation. Hearing a childlike voice urging him to “take up and read”, he opened the Sacred Scriptures and encountered the call of Christ in Romans 13: “Put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh”. Augustine later described this moment as though “a light of relief from all anxiety flooded into my heart”. It was the end of one life and the beginning of another.
What followed was a life of deep pastoral care and doctrinal brilliance. Augustine became a bishop, a theologian, and a relentless defender of truth and grace. His Confessions, The City of God and treatises on the Trinity continue to shape Christian theology to this day. His combat against Donatism and Pelagianism reflect not merely intellectual disagreements but his conviction, rooted in his own life, that grace is the beginning and end of all conversion.
I would suggest that to anticipate the shape of Pope Leo XIV’s papacy, it will be helpful to reflect time and again on the arc of St Augustine’s own journey, which has profoundly influenced Christian tradition and, by extension, the new pope. Augustine’s path from selfish ambition to spiritual surrender, from pride to divine dependence, and from moral confusion to the clarity of God’s mercy and truth, offers us a lens through which to understand Leo XIV’s theological and pastoral vision.
We can anticipate that Leo XIV’s vision will emphasise that true pastoral care arises from the recognition of human restlessness and the unceasing pursuit of God. We can anticipate a papacy that prizes preaching not merely as instruction but as a proclamation intended to delight and persuade. We can anticipate a vision of the Church as a spiritual community, bound together by charity, whose mission transcends all earthly political structures and orders (civitas terrena) while remaining actively engaged with them. We can anticipate an emphasis on personal conversion as the foundation of evangelisation, echoing St Augustine’s insistence that “what we are must be taught and what we have must be given”.
If we wish to anticipate the direction of this new papacy, we would do well to look not only to Pope Leo’s policies and public addresses, but to the story of his life – shaped by deep intellectual and spiritual currents – and to the saint who formed him, whose own journey still teaches the Church how to receive and respond to grace.
The intersection of Catholicism as the world’s largest Christian religion with the Asian continent, the home of two thirds of the world’s population and growing in political, cultural and economic influence, is just one of the realities that will be acknowledged at the Alpha Asia-Pacific regional gathering taking place in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, this month.
With a focus on the evangelising mission of the parish, I will be privileged to be speak at and be part of the gathering, learning of the diverse and emerging forms of mission in Asia with 450 leaders from 20 countries, including clergy and lay leaders from India, Indonesia and Singapore.
The Religions of Malaysia
The religiosity of Malaysia itself is heavily shaped by its geographical position between the ancient civilisations of India and China. The Strait of Malacca remains to this day one of the most important shipping lanes in the world, and for centuries has provided direct passage and safe harbour for merchant travelling between the Indian and Pacific oceans. This geography explains the significance of Penang, Malacca and Singapore as central ports and trading hubs along this route.
The activities of Indian and Chinese traders led to the dominance of Buddhism on the peninsula from the fourth century, with successive Buddhist kingdoms including the region within its domain. Islam was introduced to the peninsula in the thirteenth century from the Muslim port kingdom at Pasai, today’s Aceh in Indonesia, before Christian missionaries came onto the scene at the beginning of sixteenth century.
The Portuguese arrived in 1511 at Melaka, led by Alfonso d’Albuquerque, then came the Dutch a century later in 1641, and Britain in 1786 under the command of Sir Francis Light. It was the British who shaped and in a sure sense promoted the ethnic divisions that remain today in Malaysia, through a ‘divide and conquer’ strategy that brought in Chinese for the ports and mines, Indian labour for rubber plantations, and exercised a paternalistic approach that sought to restrain the Malays to agriculture as farmers and fisherman. It could be put that the division of political and economic influence by the British was designed to keep the Chinese out of politics, the Malays out of any role in the economy, while the Indians enjoyed neither political nor economic power.
Fast forward to today and two-thirds of Malaysia’s population remains Malay, one quarter Chinese and the remaining ten percent is largely Indian. While Islam is the defining essence of the Malay identity as enshrined in the Federal Constitution, the reality on the ground is a highly pluralistic and syncretic religiosity that presents challenges as well as opportunities for the Gospel which are well worth exploring.
Christianity in Asia
The life and affairs of the church in Europe, Latin America and Africa tend to dominate coverage of global Catholicism. However, Catholicism in Asia is no less noteworthy and will become increasingly significant for the world church, including the church in Australia, in the decades to come.
We have already seen an increasing Asian presence in our local churches, not only in our pews but also on the sanctuary. Clergy and religious from the Philippines, India, Vietnam, Korea, and other parts of the region have arrived to form an integral part of our church in Sydney and Australia.
Apart from the Philippines and Timor-Leste, Catholics in Asia are a religious minority—as are Christians more generally in the region.
There are an estimated 380 million Christians in Asia, representing 8 per cent of a total population of 4.5 billion. Hence, the faith is lived out without the supports of an extensive Christian presence or substantial institutional resources, and in full contact with the major Asian religions, dominant philosophies, and their adherents, including Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists, Taoists, and Shintoists.
Nonetheless, the vibrancy of Catholic and other Christian groups in Asia remains, as seen in the Syro-Malabar and Eastern Orthodox communities. The witness and evangelical energy of these churches are well known, not only in Asia but increasingly in our own dioceses.
Historical Influences
The lived situation of Catholics in Asia today and their outlook on evangelisation are deeply shaped by historical circumstances.
In many parts of Asia, Christianity is viewed as a product of European colonisation and therefore foreign to local culture. The impact of the missionary endeavours of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries looms large in this perception. Consider the British missionaries in Sri Lanka, the Portuguese and Dutch in India and Malacca, the Spanish in Philippines, the French in Vietnam, the Italians and other foreign missionaries in the history of Chinese Christianity.
However, what can be missed in the conventional affiliation of the Christian faith with western imperialism is that the Catholic and Protestant missionaries of these centuries were not always so neatly aligned with colonial administrations, or their trading partners.
For instance, the East India Company was long reluctant to admit Christian missionary organisations into their territories, on account of their tendency to upset the local social order and prevailing religious sensibilities. The patron saint of the east, St Francis Xavier, was himself often in conflict with the Portuguese authorities over their mistreatment and exploitation of indigenous groups.
Moreover, the misperception of Christianity in Asia as a late and artificial imposition from the west overlooks the presence of the Gospel in south and central Asia at the very origins of the church, millennia prior to the rise of modern colonial empires.
As is well known, St Thomas the Apostle arrived with Jewish traders in the south of India in the first century and thousands were baptised on the Coromandel and Malabar coasts.
The faith spread east in subsequent centuries, along the old Silk Road on which Nestorians travelled.
The famous Xi’an stele attests to the arrival of the Assyrian missionary Alopen in modern-day China in the seventh century, during a period of religious toleration under the T’ang dynasty, which saw the first Christian churches built at the emperor’s expense.
The collapse of that dynasty in the tenth century led to persecution of many religious groups and the near extinction of Christianity in that region for two centuries or so.
The Christian faith would not reappear in China with any significance until the time of the Mongols.
Then there is the figure of John of Montecorvino, an Italian Franciscan of the late thirteenth century, who evangelised thousands and went on to construct Catholic churches in the heart of Beijing.
The Challenge of National Religion
The situation of Catholics in Asia has also been shaped by rapid decolonisation that followed the Second World War, with these various independence movements leading not to secularism as has been the story in the West but to assertive forms of national religion in which ethnicity and religious identity have coalesced.
One thinks of the rise of Islamic nationalism in the region, Sinhalese Buddhist nationalism in Sri Lanka, and Hindu nationalism in India, which have placed Christian minorities under significant pressure and threat.
This is not to say that religious indifferentism and excessive individualism are not also present in Asia but the challenge of opposing religiosities with official backing is predominant in the minds of Asian Christians.
It is amidst these challenges that Catholics and other Christians demonstrate courageous witness to the Gospel in families, local networks, and worshipping communities.
As Pope John Paul II shared with the church in Asia, some 25 years after Paul VI’s landmark visit to the region, while the religious traditions of the ancient cultures of the East remain a challenge for the mission of evangelisation, the call to bring the Gospel to maturity in ways which are “fully Christian and fully Asian” remains before us.
This is because the Christian faith is not alien to these lands but an integral part of their history and indeed a vital force for their future.
This weekend I was glad to speak at the Ignite Conference 2022, a collaborative initiative of the Emmanuel Community and our Sydney Centre for Evangelisation in the Archdiocese of Sydney.
I addressed the theme of “leading change”, speaking to the personal and ecclesial aspects of moving our communities and ministries toward a genuine missionary stance. I touched on the role of charism in leading and responding to change, and the personal challenges that leadership evokes in the Church today and supports for a ministry that is both sustainable and fruitful for Christ’s mission.
I am conscious of the many different and varied contexts in which we lead, whether we exercise influence in our local parishes or dioceses, schools, ecclesial movements or other communities of faith. One consequence of this is that the responsibilities of leadership that we hold will differ and so will the particular dynamics of leading change.
However, what these forms of leadership will hold in common is that they will ultimately be concerned with exercising effective influence towards a particular goal. More specifically, as Catholic leaders our goal will be in related to proclaiming and witnessing to God’s love given to us in Jesus Christ and engage the task of bringing people into the encounter, surrender and the decision of faith. As leaders in the Church, we are called to be fruitful and make Christ’s life and mission powerfully present in our time with the people and communities that we serve.
Leadership for mission, then, will not be primarily a rank or position but a choice and responsibility to actively serve a goal that is greater than ourselves.
Leadership Matters
Before examining the issues that arise when leading change in the Church, it is important to affirm that courageous leadership matters a great deal for the future of our Church and its presence in the world as a real sign and presence of Christ.
In the Scriptures, Christ himself holds up leadership as essential to the continuation of his mission. Amidst the teeming crowds seeking out his help, Jesus still took the time to gather a group of leaders around him: forming, correcting and inspiring them; calling them into deeper discipleship; helping them to understand what impeded their leadership; and creating a culture of leadership as service.
We know that Jesus expressed compassion for people who did not have leaders: “He saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd” (Mk 6:34). Jesus was critical of those who exercised their leadership without a spirit of service, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. It will not be so among you…” (Matt. 20:25) and he rebuked those who evaded responsibility or led with impure motive, “They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on the shoulders of others; but they themselves are unwilling to lift a finger to move them. They do all their deeds to be seen by others” (Matt. 23:4-5).
More positively, Jesus makes clear that all those who encounter him are given a commission to lead others to Him and to work toward the self-giving love, justice, forgiveness and abundance that marks God’s Kingdom. This pattern in Scripture is unmistakeable: those who experience a profound encounter with God are then given a mission to lead others to God.
As example, St Peter encounters Jesus in the miraculous catch and is called to follow Him and become a “fisher of men” (Matt. 4:19). Likewise, St Paul has a blinding encounter with Jesus on the road to Damascus and is then called into God’s service in such a profound way that he proclaims, “Woe to me if I do not preach the Gospel!” (1 Cor. 9:16). Clearly, leadership matters and is expected of us in extending the mission of Christ in every age.
Varieties of Leadership
It is important to affirm that the various forms of leadership that Christ gives to the Church for this mission do not compete with one another. Properly understood and exercised, these varieties of leadership and influence work together to build up the one Body of Christ.
For instance, our priests are most often responsible for the oversight, pastoral care and leadership of our parishes and chaplaincies. They teach the Catholic faith, sanctify through the sacraments and other rites of the Church and, in union with the bishop, build up the communion of the Church so it can be a convincing sign of Christ in the world.
We have consecrated men and women as well who express for the Church the primacy of the Holy Spirit in Christian life, a Spirit who manifests within the life of a specific religious order or community the fact that Christian discipleship is possible even in this way. These religious communities with their varied charisms and expressions remind us that diversity can be an expression of God’s life too.
There are also many lay leaders who lead and direct various pastoral works of the Church, who engage in ecclesial ministry in our parishes as youth ministers, sacramental coordinators, catechists, leaders of prayer groups and ministries, as well as in our Catholic schools, universities and other educational institutions. Lay people today oversee and lead our hospitals and healthcare facilities, welfare and social support services, and the Church’s outreach to the poor and vulnerable.
Then, there is the leading witness that all the baptised exercise in daily life, with the Spirit’s gifting we find described in the New Testament, particularly in Romans, 1 Corinthians and Ephesians. In his correspondence to the Christians at Ephesus, now the Izmir province in Turkey, St Paul writes, “The gifts He gave were that some would be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors, and some teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ” (Eph. 4:11-12). We are gifted differently and so will lead change differently.
The apostles among us will be the visionaries who extend the Gospel, who can be found most often thinking and asking questions about the future and dreaming about what could be. They are our Peters, Priscillas and Aquillas.
Our prophets are those who prioritise listening to God, who enjoy time alone with God, who wait, listen and call people to obey God’s will, like Isaiah, Jeremiah and John the Baptist. Our prophets value holiness, obedience and God’s revelation.
The evangelists among us enjoy talking to others about the life of Jesus and will have a primary concern to ensure new people are discovering and entering into Christ’s life and the Church. They enjoy discussions with those who are not Christians or far from the Church and are focused on inviting ‘outsiders’ in.
In experience, many of the people in our communities tends to be shepherds. Shepherds enjoy one-on-one chats and helping others; they tend to lead with care, counsel, empathy and encouragement, much like Barnabas and James. They nurture and protect and are the caregivers of the community, focused on the interrelationships and spiritual maturity of God’s flock.
Our teachers are explainers of God’s truth and wisdom. They relish helping others understand the Gospel and the traditions and teachings of the Church and to apply this learning to their lives, much like Apollos and Philip.
So, each of us are gifted in our own way, and each of us will tend to lead and indeed respond to change in accordance with our gifts and charisms. More often than not, we will lead change most effectively in our Church when we lead change alongside others who have different but complementary gifts to our own.
For example, the visionary apostle often needs the presence of care that the shepherd brings so people are cared for rather than merely dragged along on a journey they are not accustomed to or comfortable with, and apostles also need prophets alongside them, so they are attentive to God and not acting purely on their own strength.
In my experience, when leading change in the Church, and specifically in our parishes, we will be challenged by leading change among a high proportion of ‘shepherds’, people who are the caregivers in community and prize stability and the interrelationships of a community. The great gift of shepherds is that they like to be with people in their lives, their brokenness and pain, and are highly empathetic. However, shepherds can also have difficulty moving people from that stage of life to the next stages of discipleship – to conversion of life, repentance and transformation. Shepherds may lack the confidence to challenge people to move forward, for fear that the person will be angry or upset with them.
Similarly, leading change with ‘shepherds’ can be challenging because people gifted in this way tend to value stability and have a natural desire to avoid any negative impact on others. In light of this, shepherds usually benefit from having an apostle or evangelist alongside them to keep the mission moving forward, or else a prophet by their side to ensure the truth is spoken and people are being called to conversion, even when it is hard.
However, the great gift of shepherds to the Church and leaders of change is that they can teach those who may be apostles or evangelists, who like movement and are eager to embrace ‘the new’ or untried, to minimise pain in the process of change and to be more attentive to the impact change can have on a community and their networks of relationship.
The Need to Lead Change
Having recognised the different ways in which people will lead according to their gifts, we turn to the specific challenge of leading change. Change is a fact occurring around us and within us, and indeed there is no growth personally or for the Church as a whole without change.
Take the challenge of change among our parishes for instance. Whether one is a priest, deacon, lay leader in parish ministry or a youth leader, the plain fact is that our parishes have not grown in roughly seven decades in Australia, since at least the 1950s. The majority of our parishes in Australia continue to decline each and every year. If our purpose as a Church is to evangelise, to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ to the people of this time, place and culture, then we cannot keep doing what we’ve always done and expect a different result.
When our local communities have been declining for decades, it is going to be inevitable that there will be a small amount of people who love how we do things as Church and as leaders in the Church, and a whole community out there who don’t.
If we want to be more effective in reaching people for Christ, we are called to re-evaluate. We are called to re-evaluate not the Gospel – the life of Jesus himself who remains the same yesterday, today and forever (Hebrews 13:8) – but the ways, methods and expressions by which we bring this Gospel or ‘Good News’ closer to the people of our time. In short, all of us as leaders need to confront the challenge of changing how we do things to be ever more faithful and fruitful to Christ.
Whether we are wrestling with declining numbers in our pews; changing priorities, expectations or demographics within our Catholic schools; changes perhaps in the available resources at your disposal or personnel or volunteers for shared ministry and service; or responding to new developments in the life of our Church or within the wider community, good leadership in the Church today means leading change. In fact, it can be said that if we as leaders in the Church are not leading change, we are probably not leading at all. By very definition, to lead means taking a team, a ministry, a community, and ourselves from one point to another.
We have been tasked by Christ to grow the Church, to ‘go, make disciples of all nations’ (Matthew 28:19). When the landscape of faith in Australia is changing – when less people are close to the Church or Gospel than in previous generations, when more people claim no religious affiliation – we cannot afford to read off old maps. We are called to renew and change our approaches to evangelisation and outreach for the sake of the Gospel. This has been the pattern for the Church throughout the ages – adapting itself time and again to better proclaim and witness to the abiding Gospel and in full contact with the circumstances of its time.
It can be sobering for our communities, ministries and organisations to realise that they are perfectly structured and set up to achieve the results they are currently getting. If we want something other than the status quo, then we have to be prepared to change. Too often in Christian life we want God to do something new while we remain the same!
Leading change means making decisions about which direction our ministry or community should go, changing practices and methods to better fulfil our mission, reflecting on how to take others with us in that change, how to respond to the inevitable challenges and even resistance we can encounter in leading change, and how to sustain ourselves spiritually and otherwise throughout this process.
Preparing for Change
For many of us seeking to lead change in the Church – whether that change is big or small – we will inevitably find ourselves caught between an experience of a call and desire for renewal and the weight of church culture towards maintaining the status quo. In such an environment, it is important we do not become discouraged or disillusioned in the process of leading the growth and renewed vitality we all want to see in the Church.
It is worth noting that when we see people ‘burn out’ or become disillusioned in Church ministry, or even in their careers or vocations for that matter, it often has much less to do with how that person deals with the changes in their external environment and much more to do with how a person deals with themselves in the midst of that environment. After all, as the COVID-19 pandemic and our life more broadly will teach us, the only thing over which we can exert much control is our response to change, not the circumstances that surround us.
So leading change is inherently challenging and self-implicating as it will test our character, what we value and believe within, how we respond to difficulties, relate with others, and understand ourselves before God.
In leading change in the Church, it is always helpful to remind ourselves from the outset that the mission of our parish, diocese, or ministry does not all depend on us and that the Holy Spirit is always the primary agent of evangelisation, the one who bears the fruit and gives the growth, with whom we cooperate rather than substitute. It is equally important that we as leaders do not ‘spiritualise’ a lack of effort or fruitfulness in our ministry, and that we dedicate ourselves to making the very most of the gifts God has given us to serve God’s purposes. This means reflecting on and attending to a few key strategies so we can lead change well.
Articulating our Reality
One of the practical things we can do in leading change well is to understand the landscape we are seeking to shape and influence. This is important because we want to build new approaches and strategies for mission on firm ‘rock’ rather than sand so to speak.
One of the best preparations for leading change in any organisation or community of the Church is to establish a clear view of reality, a firm and foundational understanding of the dynamics at play in a given scenario. This is especially important when the community or ministry we are trying to grow or change is complex or in crisis, which some would argue describes the current state of the Church.
As an analogy, when a building is on fire or some other unexpected event occurs, the role of the leader is to give a clear account of what has taken place, working together with allies to convey this clear picture of reality. When the spokesman or woman comes forward to share what happened before a burning shop front, they exercise leadership simply by the act of describing reality for those trying to make sense of the scene (and without having done very much else!).
In a world of ‘fake news’ and fast online opinions, it is important to recognise a significant part of mature leadership is seeing the circumstances or situation we seeking to impact with clarity and depth. In other words, leading change involves doing some ‘homework’ or research and taking care and time to establish the facts. Leaders who have only half of the facts in hand or tend to be reactive or impulsive in response to situations can lead change that can be ineffective or even damaging. Their intent can be good, but their impact can be terrible. As the saying goes, “for every complex problem there are solutions that are simple, clear and wrong”. For a community as complex and important as the Church, there are few if any ‘silver bullets’ and this means engaging the full complexity of a scene rather than only the parts we want to see.
For instance, when leaders turn to address the reality of declining Mass attendance in our Church, it can be all too tempting to put this at the feet of poor preaching, bad music and unfriendly people. It is true that these internal factors can discourage people’s engagement with our parishes and addressing these issues is pivotal. However, the reality is that people’s disengagement can also be the result of external factors, chief among them sport or other personal priorities at the weekend, or an unsupportive spouse or children. In short, disengagement from worship can be influenced by factors which have little to do with the experience of the parish in the pews as such.
How we define a pastoral problem and understand its causes will shape the responses we pursue in leading change. Building solutions on oversimplified, only partial or erroneous understandings of the present can lead to poor responses or, at the very least, incomplete ones that may not bear the full fruit we want to see.
Casting Vision
Complementing a firm grasp of the current reality is the need for leaders of mission to cast and unpack with their people a compelling vision of what the future could look like if change was realised and to bring others into this vision of a better future.
Again, as example, here in the Archdiocese of Sydney the key change we have identified as being at the heart of increased participation in worship, growing income and resources for our parishes, and increased support of volunteers and parish personnel is the growth of personal discipleship. Parishes change and grow only when people change and grow.
However, in casting this vision with our parishes we were conscious that if nobody in our parishes, or Church agencies for that matter, talks about what Christian discipleship looks like, it becomes difficult for people to begin to walk on that road. As Sherry Weddell notes, “Unfortunately, most of us are not spiritual geniuses. If nobody around us ever talks about a given idea, we are no more likely to think of it spontaneously than we are to suddenly invent a new primary colour. To the extent we don’t talk explicitly with one another about discipleship, we make it very, very difficult for most Catholics to think about discipleship” (Sherry Weddell, Forming Intentional Disciples). It is difficult to believe in and live something that you have never heard anyone talk about.
In the same way, reviewing our local parishes, youth groups, ministries and communities will remain a theory unless we have clear and consistent leadership that communicates a vision and inspires the engagement of the whole community in that vision for Christ.
In forming our vision, Pope Francis has called us repeatedly to expand our vision beyond a narrow concern for self-preservation and to embrace a vision of evangelisation, reaching out beyond ourselves to seek out all those who are lost. If we are leading a ministry or community today and outreach to those who are not Christians or are otherwise far from the Church is not part of its vision, the lifespan of that ministry or community is already limited before it has even begun.
A clear vision for evangelisation – for making “missionary disciples” as Pope Francis puts it – is a necessity to maintain even what we have as local communities of faith. This is obvious enough in the struggle to maintain our ministries, our giving and even, in some parishes and ministries, our hope. More positively, when we bring new people to Jesus and the Church it plants energy and life in our communities.
While we as communities and ministries can naturally tend to focus on the flock or the sheep we do have, there is an increasing recognition that the sheep are not having ‘baby sheep’ and that we will have to learn a new skill set in this age which is actually an ancient one. We need to learn to ‘fish’ like the first disciples of Jesus and cast our nets far, rather than ‘making do’ with a slowly diminishing flock. Leading change in such a way that attends to the unchurched and those far from the Gospel aligns with the saving mission of Jesus who comes not for the righteous but for sinners, who places the needs of the outcast and ailing even before his own flock, a focus that, paradoxically, renews the flock and reminds the sheep of what it means to follow Him.
Addressing Resistance
Having talked about the importance of a clear view of the pastoral reality and casting a compelling vision for a preferred future, one of the realities for all leaders who are leading change is the likelihood of resistance. Change always sounds great until people start to experience it!
When we encounter resistance to change that we as leaders have either proposed or introduced, it can be helpful to realise the source of that resistance is not usually a lack of vision but in fact too many visions. As noted earlier, all of our people will have a different experience and perspective of Christian life – some will be apostles who are open and eager to break new ground, others are teachers who want their community to be primarily a school of faith where people learn and think, while others envision the Church as called primarily to offer the embrace of a sheepfold, to privilege care and nurturance of the flock.
The upshot of all these perspectives is that some in our communities will find proposals for change that might propose unnecessary, alarming or a threat, as misdirected, or wasteful of time and money. Unless it is a really terrible idea, we will usually have some supporters, alongside a good number of people in the ‘middle’ who prefer a ‘wait and see’ approach, while the remainder will be indifferent, resistant or opposed.
In managing such community dynamics as leaders of change, we should be careful not to treat these cohorts the same. Time and again, it has been shown that giving too much oxygen to the vocal minority who tend to oppose change can take up enormous amounts of limited energy for little gain and these negative forces can drag others in the ‘middle‘ with them. In experience, leaders of change often focus on investing in and galvanising the ‘supporters’ for the change, the ‘early adopters’ who can influence and engage those in the ‘middle’ toward greater openness and engagement with the intended change.
This is not to say that we should entirely ignore the voices of those who oppose change as there is usually some aspect of truth that can be found even in those who might be most resistant. It is important to remember in leading change that behind every program or initiative that has had its day, or from which we need to move on, close or amend, there are real people and convictions. One of the proper responsibilities of leading change is to minimise the pain of change and to ensure as many people are included in the new direction or approaches that we pursue.
Sustaining Our Leadership
I wanted to conclude by addressing the issue of resilience in leading change as burn out, disillusionment and discouragement can impact upon many leaders in the Church seeking to move a community or ministry group from one point to another. Our reactions to the criticisms we might face or the challenges we might endure will often force us to face up to our inner motives; those things that are of ultimate value to us; even our beliefs about God, ourselves and others.
However, leadership is not a journey that is meant to be travelled alone and the necessary supports of a regular sacramental life and constant prayer, professional supervision, the company and understanding of peers, and some form of mentoring or coaching can also help us and save us unnecessary pain. As it is said, ‘self-experience can a brutal teacher’ and learning from others who can mentor and guide us from their own experience of change can save us unnecessary hardship.
We also need to develop a clear sense of the boundaries of our responsibilities – what is within our control and influence, and what is beyond it and for which we need not take responsibility. A reliance on prayer and a healthy surrender to grace and the providence of God in our daily efforts can give us the confidence to lead boldly while remaining open and humble before God and others, a spirit that echoes the trust of Christ in the Father and the great saints who were led by the Spirit, exercised their gifts and were ultimately faithful, even in trial and tribulation, to God’s purposes.
I close with this encouragement from the First Letter of St Peter, which reminds us, “Whoever serves must do so with the strength that God supplies, so that God may be glorified in all things through Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 4:11). This divine life is the source of all authentic change in our Church and the source of our joy in our cooperation with God in leading change.
The address below was given at the invitation of Divine Renovation Australasia, a ministry focused on the renewal of Catholic parishes by recovering the primacy of evangelisation.
It is exciting to see here in Australia and in New Zealand so many parish and diocesan leaders embracing not only the need for the renewal of our parishes but recognising the urgency of that task.
We are at a critical moment as a Church in the West. We know this from the realities on the ground in our parishes, and the trends of decline we have seen across our dioceses, trends that have been only accelerated by the pandemic.
We also know as leaders who care about our communities that we shape the life and mission of the Church by our participation in it. We play our role in the project of parish renewal by 1) our dependence on the Holy Spirit who guides us into the truth, allows us to proclaim Jesus is Lord, who bestows the Church with a great variety of gifts and charisms, and 2) our personal and active commitment to labour in hope toward that vision and task that Jesus gives us – to “go make disciples”.
We were privileged to host Dr Mary Healy in Sydney online just recently, and she reminded us that this “go” proclaimed by Jesus was not an instruction to set up a church, get some programs on the shelf, and put out some fliers. It is a commission to go out to the lost, to disciple people and bring them to the feet of Jesus in the power of the Spirit, the Spirit who enables us to be faithful to Jesus in the present.
In fact, one of my favourite images of the Church is that given by the poet John O’Donohue. It is of ‘hands clasping hands going back in time to hold the hand of Jesus who holds the hand of God’. So we are all a part of this continuing story of the Church, a story which has always been of an existing community of faith into which others are incorporated. It turns out that evangelisation is our Great Tradition.
We can say that the future of our Church depends on the Holy Spirit and, importantly, those who currently don’t believe. Without the Spirit we are left to our own meagre resources. Without a genuine commitment to evangelisation in our parishes, we risk becoming a Church content to grow old and smaller, rather than a Church that moves forwards.
In fact, one of the characteristics of our Christian hope – our ‘birth right’ as the baptised – is that hope never leaves us where we are. We give evidence to our hope by the courageous commitment to reform and renew our own lives and our communities; we “live” hope by affirming that decline and death are not the last word and that the Holy Spirit can open doors and bring about more possibilities than we can imagine.
Already today, hundreds of Catholics in our parishes, chaplaincies and movements in Australia recognise this need for renewal, earnestly desire that their own discipleship and that of their parishes becomes ever more missionary, are committed not just to talking about evangelisation while keeping everything the same, but to make those changes in our practice so we can be more faithful and fruitful.
I think more and more Catholics in Australia want to see the personal and spiritual change in our parishes that we have experienced ourselves. Our parishes are where the mystery of Jesus is already present and at work – it is a gift that is calling for our response.
Fundamental Questions
So our vision and purpose as parishes is clear. We have a task that embraces all of us – whether as a priest, religious, or lay leader: to bring people into an encounter with Jesus, to the surrender and the decision of faith.
However, before launching out into this project of renewal, we have to make a fundamental decision ourselves. I’d propose this as a first step in the journey of renewal.
I think there are at least two questions we need to ask ourselves before we attempt anything as demanding and challenging as parish renewal, to be able to face the challenges and even the resistance that change can bring.
The questions are these: ‘Do I believe Jesus is who He says He is?’, and ‘Do I believe His message is true?’
Those two questions are usually enough to get us going and keep us going in mission when our energy is low or at the times when parish renewal can seem hard or even overwhelming. They are questions that ressource or reground our energies in a vision bigger than our own – in what God desires for our parishes, the liberating truth of the Gospel, a truth to which we need to first give ourselves if we are to be convincing witnesses.
So that’s one of the first things I wanted to share with you – that this project of parish renewal is radically self-implicating, demanding faith and commitment not simply from others but from our own deep wells. Are we also willing to changed and to live as the Church we are looking for? So often we want God to do something new while we stay the same.
So it’s important to bear in mind that whenever we talk about the conversion of parishes we are talking about the conversion and renewal of people.
In seeking to transform the culture of our parishes for evangelisation, we have to realise that culture isn’t the starting point but is the end-product of individuals living out holiness, community and mission. And that begins with discipleship or people making a personal, conscious decision to follow Jesus with their whole lives, in and through His Church.
So if you want to build a new Catholic culture in your parish, you have to start with forming disciples, and that project has much to do with helping individuals to discover a living and personal faith in the midst of the Church.
Casting Vision
It can seem obvious but the second step we need to take is to cast a vision of discipleship which people can embrace, aspire to and grow within. As Sherry Weddell remarks if nobody in our parish talks about what discipleship looks like, it becomes difficult for people to begin to walk on that road:
Unfortunately, most of us are not spiritual geniuses. If nobody around us ever talks about a given idea, we are no more likely to think of it spontaneously than we are to suddenly invent a new primary colour. To the extent we don’t talk explicitly with one another about discipleship, we make it very, very difficult for most Catholics to think about discipleship” (Weddell, Forming Intentional Disciples, 56).
It is difficult to believe in and live something that you have never heard anyone talk about or unpack as the goal of following Jesus and our involvement in the life of the Church. Sometimes we suspect that ‘showing up to Church’ can be for some an exercise in ‘ticking boxes’ rather than expressing a living relationship, a more extrinsic routine rather than an interior desire.
Do our people know that a disciple is one who has encountered Jesus personally in the midst of the Church, who has surrendered his or her life to His way, and made the decision to live by His teaching in all aspect of life? It is one of the curiosities of our Catholic culture that we don’t tend to talk about our relationship with God except in the confessional or perhaps in spiritual direction.
However, if we fail to cast a vision of discipleship in our parishes it is not without consequence. The fact is we are all going somewhere, whether we know it or not, and will arrive at a destination in life. The road that we are currently on will lead to a destination, and we generally don’t drift in good directions.
There are physical paths that lead to physical locations, and roads and highways that lead to certain destinations. There is a dietary path that leads to predictable health outcomes. There are financial paths that lead to financial destinations. There are relationship paths that lead to relational destinations. In fact, parents have an interest in who their young adults are dating for this reason. They enquire about their relationships not so much because they are interested in whether their child is happy in the relationship now (though they certainly hope they are). They are more interested where that relationship will take their child, whether that relationship will take them in the right direction.
So all of us are on the way to somewhere and that applies to our spiritual life as well. Unfortunately we have seen the impact of too many Catholics staying on a path of ignorance of the faith or merely routine behaviour and too many parishes comfortable on the path to decline. We have seen too many Catholics disengage from the Church altogether and even from any living relationship to Jesus himself, not necessarily because they are bad people but far too often because they never actually knew a personal relationship with Jesus was even possible. They were never given a destination that made the journey worthwhile.
We need to implant a clear vision of discipleship in our parishes because, biblically speaking, we reap what we sow. It is this life of discipleship which remains still today too obscure for too many of our people.
Naming the Challenges
In the light of that challenge, a third step as parish communities is to name the ‘gap’ between this vision of life changing discipleship that Jesus gives and our current realities and strategies.
I was reminded of this need to honestly name our current pastoral realities by Fr James Mallon on Twitter, when he shared an observation by G.K. Chesterton: “It isn’t that they can’t see the solution. It is that they can’t see the problem”.
One of the tasks that parish renewal demands is a clear recognition of the discipleship dilemma we face – a familiar story of declining engagement, decreasing giving and participation, a lack of manifest charisms and fruit, and the implications of this trend for our future as a Church and as local parishes.
Another way of saying this is, if you don’t define the problem, then people aren’t going to want the solution.
In effect, as leaders we have to elicit the desire for change. No change is likely when there is no desire for change, and there is no desire for change if we are perfectly comfortable with gentle decline and an ever ageing community.
In a world and Church already heavy with demands, busyness and division, we can be tempted to prefer ‘the peace of a graveyard’ rather than welcome the disruption and the change that evangelisation demands.
However, as someone once said, the difference between where we are and where God wants us to be is often the pain we are unwilling to bear (that is, the pain of change). Recognising where we are, as individuals and parishes, can be a painful confrontation and truth but the Paschal Mystery reminds us that this truth, even painful as it may be, is the place of grace and the beginning of transformation.
The plain fact is that comfort and complacency has never moved anyone closer to being a saint, and comfort and complacency have never helped a parish grow. On the desire that should animate and sustain our efforts at renewal, I’m reminded of the words of St John Henry Newman who recalls for us our deepest purpose: “holiness rather than peace”.
Now being honest and truthful about the situation of our parishes or perhaps a ministry does not mean pointing the finger, blaming people, priests or parishioners, for the circumstances in which our parishes find themselves. In truth, the decline of our parishes is often decades old with a myriad of complex causes, some that fall at our own feet as a Church and others that are well beyond our control.
However, we do have a calling and responsibility to respond to God where we are placed. We do not have the first word in evangelisation or the last word, but we do have a word. Our task, in this generation, is to start clearly identifying the obstacles that are preventing growth and missionary discipleship and to take the steps that might enable it.
An Example
As an example, one of the challenges that we face, a part of our present reality, is the cultural circumstances of the West, a context in which some may know of Jesus but in which the majority of Australians and Kiwis, including some of our own flock, do not know Him personally.
Now as Catholics we believe that the full life of every person and community can be unlocked only by this encounter with Christ. However, the stark reality is that Christian faith remains for most a vague background influence, well short of having any actual explicit or personal claim on their lives.
How can we begin to understand this and so respond to our times?
If we consider the long arc of Western history at least, our story begins in a pre-Christian world, a world soaked through with divinity, with many gods, a whole pantheon of divine influences and spiritual forces. Think the Roman Empire before the coming of Jesus.
People understood themselves as living in an enchanted world where both the divine and demonic were at play. The world and the self was considered porous, open to the transcendent, and life was vulnerable to the incursion of the sacred, and life involved successfully navigating these forces by various means (e.g. potions, chants, charms).
Then comes Christ and with His believers, the development of a Christian culture which is creedal and monotheistic with its sacred texts and virtues. Christ proclaims and embodies within himself a Kingdom of justice and mercy, and this faith shapes the entire character of Western culture (e.g. in contrast to a cyclic understanding of life as in the East and in oriental religion and philosophies, with provide no incentive to such a thing as social justice, the Christian schema proclaims a trajectory of life that reaches a fulfilment, an end which is shaped by our response rather than being inevitable or fatalistic).
However, today we experience the challenge of following and proclaiming Jesus in a post-Christian culture (influenced by the Enlightenment), a culture which is not a religious ‘year zero’ or pre-Christian, that has not entirely thrown off the vision of the Kingdom, that still carries the Christian Kingdom dream of equality and justice and mercy, but wants this Kingdom without the King.
Post-Christian culture might want to even deconstruct the gifts and traditions of Christian faith but yet it cannot quite shrug off the ache and discontent that remains. To echo the English writer Julian Barnes: “We don’t believe in God, but we miss him”.
In a sense, like the crying onlookers in France amidst the ashes of Notre Dame Cathedral, we remain resistant to religion but are still haunted by our Christian origins.
So when the current culture speaks about equality or justice today, it is not necessarily that we are talking about the same thing. There is a secular schema of salvation that has not lost the Kingdom dream that was planted by the Christian faith, but it wants this dream without the authority or the influence of Christ. We want progress without presence, to continue the Christian project without Christ, feasting on the fruit of the Christian proposal while forgetting its source.
Many today look for and feel some sort of transcendent power in technology or even politics, but it is all disenchanted power, while the deeper desires remain. In fact, the current COVID-19 crisis has confronted many with this yearning without Someone to encounter, and when it becomes all too much it can end in disastrous consequences.
So, within the Christian inheritance that underpins our cultural moorings, evangelisation will be about connecting many of the innate desires that people carry with them today and revealing to them their fulfilment in Christ who literally makes sense of the world in which they live. It cannot be taken for granted that people know the kerygma, the essential story of Jesus himself, but we can proclaim it with confidence that Christ still speaks to and meets the deepest desires and questions of humanity today as he asks us “Who do you say I am?” and beseeches “Come, follow me”.
A new evangelisation must be centred in the proclamation of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection as it touches on our culture and lives today, on Christ who is ‘always news’, who is always contemporaneous in the Spirit rather than being an artefact of our cultural history.
Implications
Moving to practicing evangelisation in this culture milieu, one of the gifts that Divine Renovation has offered Catholic parishes in recent years is the reminder that we can no longer rely on a pastoral approach that assumes the sacraments will simply ‘take care of it’.
As the new General Directory of Catechesis exhorts the Church, “A process of missionary conversion must be begun that is not limited to maintaining the status quo or guaranteeing the administration of sacraments, but presses forward in the direction of evangelisation” (General Directory of Catechesis 300).
If we do not take up the task of evangelising those ‘far’ from the Church and those who are near but may be only ‘sacramentalised’ and not yet evangelised, we risk neglecting our duty to awaken in each person that active and personal faith, that fertile soil, in which the grace of the sacraments can takes root and bears fruit.
This point was explicitly made by the Congregation of Clergy when it spoke a word to our bishops and priests:
Not infrequently, pastoral agents receive the request for the reception of the sacraments with great doubts about the faith intention of those who demand them… With different but widespread accents, there is a certain danger: either ritualism devoid of faith for lack of interiority or by social custom and tradition; or danger of a privatization of the faith, reduced to the inner space of one’s own conscience and feelings. In both cases the reciprocity between faith and sacraments is harmed (Congregation for Clergy, The Reciprocity Between Faith and Sacraments in the Sacramental Economy 9; my emphasis).
So mere administration of the sacraments without attention to supportive processes of evangelisation is not enough. As Canadian Catholic evangelist Marcel le Jeune keenly observes, most fallen-away Catholics in our Church have left the active reception of the sacraments because something non-sacramental was missing. So, we need to aim to replace that missing item – in most cases, it is relationship.
There is an important perspective here that we need to keep in mind, especially for those of us who have been committed to parish life for decades, who have worked hard at the frontline with various programs, strategies, courses and events.
We are called to remember that while good and helpful, all these programs, courses and events are only proxies or the means for the evangelising relationships by which people come to faith in the midst of the Church. This is because it is not programs that make disciples, but disciples that make disciples.
To make the point, we have so many great resources in hand and available to us today, more than any other generation of Christian believers. Consider St Paul who did not even have the four Gospels in hand as he embarked on his apostolic mission across the Mediterranean.
However, St Paul had people – disciples making disciples. He had Barnabas, John Mark, Silas, Timothy, Erastus, Aristarchus, Gaius, Trophimus, Tychicus and Luke. We may need programs and materials as a kind of crutch or support but we need to be mindful about allowing these supports to replace the relationships. A good program with unevangelised leaders is not going to convert anything.
Another way of saying this is that if you build the Church, you rarely get disciples. If you make disciples, you always get the Church. Now focusing on disciple-making relationships within the parish takes the longest time and investment, but it is also the shortest route to creating missionary parishes. Any other path, focusing on program after program for example, will not see the fruit we hope to see.
A Pathway of Discipleship
Finally, a positive step we can take, which the experience of growing Catholic parishes has affirmed, is the importance of clearly communicating or making it or making it very explicit what people can do to grow in relationship to Jesus and the journey in the parish that will help them to grow in this relationship.
For example, what is on the on-ramp, or shallow end of the people, through which people in your church might start the discipleship journey? How do people actually get connected to the group and what is a strategy for this connection, rather than merely hoping they will hang around long enough to connect?
As it’s been observed: “Imagine a ladder with all the lower rungs removed. It wouldn’t be very useful for climbing. Sometimes churchworld can seem like that. The churchpeople are on the top of the ladder. With the lower rungs removed, the unchurched are left with no chance of climbing up. We churchpeople can make it difficult for the unchurched to come to church, even when they want to” (Fr Michael White and Tom Corcoran, ChurchMoney, 105).
A pathway helps identify the ‘rungs on the ladder’, to support people take a next step in faith, rather than expecting them to work it out for themselves.
Your pathway might begin with the need to have an invitational strategy for newcomers to be drawn into an encounter with the Gospel and community via an initiative such as Alpha which explores life and the Christian faith. Following this initial encounter, participants can then be encouraged to join the organising team for such a course or otherwise join a small group in the parish to connect more deeply with others in community. They might join a bible study in order to deepen the faith they have discovered. As a next step, the parish might then encourage participants to commit to active mission in the form of service to others; for example, to become involved in a parish ministry or share their God-given talents in social outreach to the wider community.
Such a discipleship pathway enables your ministry to determine where people are on the journey of faith and how to move them to the next step in faith in the context of parish ministries. This avoids treating or assuming everyone is at the same stage of faith.
We know that churches and ministries that have an explicit pathway for discipleship have a much higher rate of conversion than those that do not, than those who are more haphazard in their outreach and overloaded with group upon group, programs upon programs.
If we had all the money, people and resources we needed, we would not need a strategy. But in our parishes we need to discern and articulate clear pathways by which people come to faith, just as we ourselves have taken steps to arrive where we find ourselves today.
Conclusion
So in this time together, I hope you have been encouraged and challenged in this mission of evangelisation which has become as important and urgent as ever.
In the midst of the conversation that the Church in Australia and indeed the Church worldwide is having about its future, it is people like yourselves at the frontline of our parishes that will shape the future of our Church by your leadership and witness.
When we cast a vision of discipleship, of the full Christian life to our people; proclaim the life, death and resurrection of Jesus as it touches upon the world today; develop the discipleship of our own people so that programs and resources become effective and attractive; and when we explicitly articulate a path of spiritual growth open to all, we begin to see the promise of parish renewal come to real life.
timeofthechurch 