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Pastoral Ministry for Today

Who Do You Say That I Am

Author(s): Thomas G. Grenham

ISBN13: 9781847301734

ISBN10: 1847301738

Publisher: Veritas

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  • Deriving from a conference entitled Who Do You Say That I Am? Opportunities and Challenges for Pastoral Ministry that took place at the Milltown Institute, Dublin, in 2008, Pastoral Ministry for Today brings together the four papers delivered over the two-day event. Opened by the Archbishop of Dublin and Primate of Ireland, Most Rev. Diarmuid Martin, his paper is herein published as a preface to the book.


    The four essays presented examine the issue of how to minister in contemporary Irish society today, and readers will find an array of pastoral insights that will help them in their ministry.The contributors,Timothy Radcliffe,Thomas G. Grenham, Michael Carroll and Anne Codd, speak from their own lived experience of ministry in varying contexts. Areas discussed include the role of conversation in ministry, the exploration of pastoral care in the global village, the development of an effective pastoral presence, an examination of Living Systems within the pastoral context and the role of supervision for quality ministry.


    The concluding chapter by Bairbre de Búrca is a reflective essay on the papers presented and offers some suggestions for the future of ministry.The practical and useful insights given by all the contributors address some of the issues associated with providing caring and effective ministry.

  • Thomas G. Grenham

    Thomas G. Grenham SPS, Ph.D., is the Associate Dean for Student Affairs and Head of the Department of Pastoral Theology at the Milltown Institute, Dublin. He teaches courses on pastoral/practical theology, mission theology and ministry. He has broad experience in ministry, having worked in many parishes in different parts of the world. A member of St Patricks Missionary Society, Kiltegan, Co. Wicklow, he served as a missionary for many years among the Turkana of Kenya. He received his interdisciplinary Ph.D. in theology and education from Boston College, Massachusetts, in 2002 and a Masters in Pastoral Ministry at the same university. His publications include The Unknown God: Religious and Theological Interculturation (Peter Lang, 2005).

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    Thomas G. Grenham

    This book is a compilation of papers delivered at the pastoral conference organised by the Pastoral Theology Department of the Milltown Institute of Theology and Philosophy, Dublin, in November 2008. The papers presented were the fruit of the reflections of four speakers. The last chapter is a specially solicited chapter from a participant at the conference to provide readers with some reflections and proposals for doing theology and ministry in the future. The title of the conference, Who Do You Say That I Am?, became the foundation question in the exploration of contemporary pastoral theology and ministry, a question that Jesus asked of his disciples. Jesus wanted to know from them what they and others were thinking about his identity and sense of ministry. This book is about exploring that question. Ministry is, in many ways, about that question. It is a crucial question in the discovery of a life-giving and meaningful pastoral theology with its challenges and opportunities for ministry in todays world. The way Jesus ministered in the world of his day was dependent on the evolving sense of his own self in dialogue with the notion of who God was for him. The question Who do you say that I am? was about reading the signs of the times in Jesus historical era. Some of these signs included cultural taboos, marginalisation of the poor, religious sectarianism/inclusivism, gender inequality, political struggle, racism and suspicion of the stranger. These issues also resonate in our own time. Comprehending the signs, amidst the diversity of cultures and religions in which our identity, in particular our pastoral identity, is shaped, provides markers for effective ministry. For example, how we use language to articulate our deepest feelings and thoughts and the ways in which we decode symbols, rituals and customs to reveal life-giving meaning is challenging for ministers in a multicultural environment. Understanding the signs reflected in values, attitudes and perceptions as well as comprehending the codes of society, politics, economics and religion generally can be difficult. To communicate and disseminate these signs into relevant meaning for the world is at the core of the development of a practical theology. Practical theology gives life and hope to relevant ministry. Practical theologian Terry Veling says that:

    To read the signs of the times is one of the most difficult theological tasks, yet it is a theological imperative. Too often we do not behold the announcement of God in our present reality. Rather, we cling to what we already know of God, to tired and weary theological frameworks that have lost their sense of timeliness, to religious truths that lull us to sleep rather than provoke us to wakefulness.

    The world around us and the diversity of the faith traditions to which we belong shape us in our personhood. It is hoped that this book will assist readers in weaving a life-giving pastoral theology in order to live and work effectively with post-modern uncertainty. The insights presented in this book will help provide opportunities for personal and communal reflection on ministry in contemporary Ireland and beyond. The material will help the reader to engage, reflect and re-imagine their sense of identity in ministry. Readers will find practical hints and suggestions to sustain and foster quality and effectiveness in their task of doing everyday caring ministry.
    Given todays general global and local fragmentation, exacerbated currently by the continuing uncertainty around the world financial system, it is opportune for readers to focus on uncovering the intercultural face of God emerging from the socalled post-modern and globalised world. Economic globalisation has to a large extent driven the way people have lived and settled in many parts of the world. As a result, people of different cultures and faith perspectives are living in close proximity to each other. This reality is a sign of our time that poses certain challenges for ministers, such as how to deal with different perceptions around illness, death, suffering, joy, happiness, life after death, and so on. The meltdown of the global financial system will probably cause a fresh revisioning of how the markets should serve more adequately the peoples of the world. Such a rethinking will inevitably impact on how we perceive and think about each other culturally, politically and religiously. Will this cataclysmic economic meltdown bring us closer together or cause us to separate even further?
    Theologically, seeing Gods presence and action among us as the world, and Ireland particularly, grapples with this difficult economic event is a challenge for pastoral agents. Discovering how God is present and active interculturally will demand skilful dialogue within and among the different cultures and faith perspectives in Ireland and beyond. Conversation will be difficult because of difficulties around language and the various cultural and religious perspectives in relation to issues like gender, societal roles, sexuality, and practices around life and death, among others. For Christians, the Christian tradition shows us how to carry out this conversation, and insights forministry can be gleaned. For example, the historical Jesus, in the context of his time, always engaged people in dialogue. Jesus conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well, his conversations with the Pharisees, his encounter with the Syrophoenician woman, his dealings with those on the margins, all demonstrate that Gods presence and action is discovered through the actual process of conversation.
    The economic crisis is a particular sign of our time that offers both opportunities and challenges for ministers and theologians. One opportunity for ministers is to be of a consoling, compassionate, understanding and empathetic presence. This means that ministers take time to listen deeply in order to physically understand the other; to listen empathically to the pains, the fears and the struggles for coherence in the midst of personal chaos. To be an effective minister in these economically challenging times is to learn how to have effective and intentional conversations about the priorities and values we hold to be very important for us and why. For example, do we value a caring society more than economic prosperity? How do we care for the aged, the young, the marginalised, the migrant, and others in need of care? For Christians, whatever the burning issues, at the heart of the conversation will be the story and vision of the Christian tradition.
    In various ways, the following chapters are a starting point for beginning that conversation. This book is a conversation that brings together both the practice and the theory of theology and ministry. Our lived experience and our religious traditions are essential parts of that conversation to discover and uncover Gods presence and action in our lived reality today.
    These chapters hope to stimulate this conversation around particular issues related to pastoral theology and ministry in todays Church.Hopefully, the specific focus around conversation, identity, presence, structures and supervision will help in understanding the global and local context in which pastoral theology is practiced.
    The challenge, and the opportunity, is to create zones of compassion within our communities of faith for people to feel cared for, recognised, valued and loved. These zones are found within the ministers own lived experiences and within the lived experience of a faith community. Such zones of comfort and meaningful belonging can gather the suffering, the marginalised and the excluded into lifegiving relationships with themselves, others and God. Zones of compassion can be reflected in the home, school and parish.
    In the contemporary world, it is not strange to any of us that if something happens in another part of the world, it has implications for all of us, not just on an economic level, but also socially, religiously and politically. An obvious example of this global interdependence is the way that issues affecting oil markets in another part of the world affects prices and supply in Ireland. Another example is the way in which we are all affected financially by the global credit crunch, which has influenced how we live, work and spend our money. We are now learning that what happens in America, Australia, Africa, or the Middle East has direct and indirect implications for the lives of everyone. We are learning about global warming and how the melting of the ice caps in Antarctica affects us in our part of the world. Theology is also affected by this global interdependence.
    Theology , the science of Gods revelation and presence , is very much impacted by what happens in the historical, social, political, religious and economic contexts anywhere on the planet. Though theology is done contextually, it is an interdependent reality as contexts are related to each other because of the constants of faith, truth, love, justice, compassion, forgiveness, suffering and life and death that exist in every context. For example, when the tsunami hit Indonesia at Christmastime 2004, many around the world wondered how God was present and active or absent and passive in this particular catastrophe. People wondered what the meaning of suffering was in that particular local context as well as reflecting upon the meaning of suffering in their own lived contexts. People turned to their own cultural and religious traditions for answers. Readers may think of other examples of contexts in which we reflect theologically and see how Gods presence, or absence, for that matter, is revealed and experienced.
    Readers can begin with any of the chapters in their study of ministry and their discovery of who Jesus is for them. The first contribution by Timothy Radcliffe focuses on the need for conversation in the Church today. He posits that all pastoral care is fundamentally conversation, a tiny hint of the conversation which is God. And conversation begins with recognition. What is so fresh about Radcliffe is his understanding of young people, especially the new generation Y, that is, those in the 15, 25 age group. An acknowledgement and understanding of this group is vital for the life of the Church into the future. Jesus recognised the young people and noted how the Kingdom of God belonged to them. In his ministry Jesus knew the significance of recognising people, like the lepers, the tax collectors and the marginalised. Recognition of people is at the heart of effective conversation and, according to Radcliffe, that conversation needs to highlight the importance of three aspirations for people in the so-called global village: happiness, freedomand beauty.
    In the second chapter, a detailed overview of the intercultural reality of pastoral presence in the contemporary world is presented. Influenced by my experiences with Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) and bereavement, I offer insights into how we can be more effective in our presence to those who may be marginalised, living through fractured relationships, suffering, imprisoned, or close to dying. Personal stories are also included as to my own path to effective ministry, and, like Radcliffe, I suggest that conversation is at the core of ministry. As mentioned earlier, the multicultural and multi-religious reality of Ireland today impacts on ministry in the way we are challenged by language and the struggle to interpret what others are really saying to us. Ministers are challenged by the different cultural and religious understandings around suffering, dignity, gender, role and societal expectations. This chapter explores some aspects of an effective intercultural pastoral presence. As well as situating pastoral presence in the broader world context and the Christian theological experience of incarnation, an outline of how one might conduct a meaningful and life-giving conversation is explored. A list of some guiding principles for conducting a pastoral conversation is also offered.
    Living Systems are analysed and explored by Anne Codd in the third chapter. Readers obtain a glimpse of the way in which each of us is enmeshed in a network of structures that organise our lives. Codd examines the impact organic structures or systems have on the way the Church community lives its vision in various contexts. The link between systems theory and theology reveals a unique opportunity for understanding how our ministry is both assisted and sometimes impeded by the structures that surround the construction of life-giving theology and meaningfulministry. Codd offers pointers and suggestions as to how we might manage and work effectively with the structure of the Church we have at present. Awareness of how systems work can be a great asset to ministers in order to forge an understanding of why people might feel the way they feel about the Church today.
    The fourth chapter addresses the issue of quality in ministry and the role of supervision in creating life-giving spaces for support and nurture so that ministry can be effective and meaningful. Practitioner Michael Carroll outlines in great detail the significance of supervision in the everyday life of the minister. Supervision in ministry is a growing profession in Ireland and beyond. More and more, ministers and others from the various caring professions recognise that if people are to be well cared for, the carers need to take care of themselves. Carroll points out that sport professionals, artists, musicians and others take great care of the gifts and talents they have by taking care of themselves. Likewise, ministers need to understand what it is they need to take care of so that they are effectual and helpful in ministry.
    Finally, the last chapter looks towards the future, and Bairbre de Bórca offers some helpful ideas and suggestions on how to move on from the present position. In five essential steps, de Bórca continues the conversations by attempting to weave together the rich threads gathered from the papers within a framework of dialogue with self, dialogue within families, dialogue within communities, dialogue with the threat to the Cosmos and dialogue with the Judeo- Christian tradition. A more detailed list and explanation of the signs of the times are provided in the chapter, which will help the reader come to terms with some of the challenges and opportunities in ministry.
    At the end of each chapter are reflective questions. They are provided to help centre the readers own thinking about theology and ministry. These open-ended questions, in a limited way, help the reader to claim and name their own life-giving theology. These questions arose from the reflective group process that was at the core of the pastoral conference, with open-ended focusing questions being offered to small groups. Participants at the conference had an important opportunity to engage with the ideas and suggestions put to them by the speakers, and now readers will get a taste of this reflective process as they engage with these reflective questions.


    Timothy Radcliffe

    When I prepared this chapter I had quite a time imagining whom I would be addressing. I read the brochure for the conference several times, trying to intuit the expectations. I discovered that this conference will focus on uncovering the intercultural face of God emerging from the post-modern and globalised world. That sounded very impressive and I imagined people struggling with the post-modern angst of philosophers like Derrida and Foucault. And then I read that it is envisaged that this conference will be of interest to many people engaged in pastoral theological reflection within families, community centres, parishes, schools, hospitals, nursing homes, prisons, and other workplaces. And I then thought that such people do not have the time or energy to labour through French philosophers when they come back home at night.


    I start in this way to make a more fundamental point, which is that all pastoral care should spring out of conversation. I would have liked to have been with you for a while, shared a few pints and discovered what was tugging at your hearts before speaking. In the beginning was the Word. God alone has the first word, and we join in the conversation which the Word has initiated. All pastoral care, all preaching, even in the global village, is essentially dialogical. This is not because when you visit people in hospital or prison you must lull them into a false sense of security by first talking about Manchester United or the weather and then, when their defences are down, suddenly bring in Jesus. Christianity is a faith founded conversation. We believe in the man who ambled around the Holy Land two thousand years ago, talking with those he met: the woman at the well, the blind man at the pool, beggars and lepers, tax collectors and prostitutes. The Word was made flesh in Jesus conversations. The word homily comes from a Greek word which originally meant to converse. Homilies should not be party political broadcasts launched from the invulnerability of the pulpit. They are moments in the conversation of Gods people. They should help us to talk to each other. The Church is sustained by our innumerable conversations. St Catherine of Siena said that there is no greater pleasure than to talk about God with ones friends. And the preacher must always remember the old adage: you have two ears and one mouth and should use the maccordingly. If Jesus was a man of conversation, it is because the Trinity is the eternal, loving, equal, undominative conversation of God. Herbert McCabe OP wrote that sharing the life of the Trinity is like a young child listening to a fantastic conversation of adults in a pub:

    Think for a moment of a group of three or four intelligent adults relaxing together in one of those conversations that have really taken off. They are being witty and responding quickly to each other , what in Ireland they call the Crack. Serious ideas may be at issue, but no one is being serious. Nobody is being pompous or solemn (nobody is preaching). There are flights of fancy. There are jokes and puns and irony and mimicry and disrespect and self-parody Now this child is like us when we hear about the Trinity.

    The idea of dialogue is held in suspicion by some people in the Church. It is seen to smack of relativism, of suggesting that all theological positions and faiths are equal, of giving up on truth. But I would suggest that since what is at the heart of the gospel is Jesus, the man who conversed with us, and ultimately, the conversation that is the Trinity, then we can only talk truthfully of our faith in dialogue. To do otherwise would be like a pacifist beating up his opponents for disagreeing with him. I was at the Lambeth Conference in 2008 [meeting of the archbishops and bishops of the Anglican Church], and for the Anglican Church, one of the hot topics is: Do we dialogue with Islam, or seek to convert Muslims? We can only share our faith with Muslims if we dialogue. And all conversation leads to conversion, with both partners being called to conversion. What form that conversion takes is in Gods hands.
    One of my brethren, Pierre Claverie, was the bishop of Oran, Algeria, until he was assassinated in 1996.His passion was dialogue with Islam. He, literally, gave his life to it. His story is documented in a beautiful book entitled A Life Poured Out by Jean Jacques P?®renn?¿s OP. Pierres conversation with Islam led to conversion. There was his conversion, as he discovered Christ in the face of his Muslim friends. There was the conversion of his Muslim friends, who became better Muslims. And some of them, at the risk to their lives, became Christians.


    How do we begin a conversation? Jesus mission always starts with recognition. He recognizes Nathaniel as the person he has seen under the fig tree; he recognises little Zacchaeus up the tree; he recognizes Mary in the garden. And because he recognises them, then they may recognise him in return. This is more than saying, Dear Nathaniel, we met last week at the fish market. Jesus recognises people because, in a sense, he knows them from within. He is the Word of God, the one through whom all things came to be. He recognises strangers because he is the Son of God the creator who gives them being. And does it sound utterly silly to suggest that if we share the life of God lived by his Spirit, then we too somehow, dimly, recognise people from within? Saints like Padre Pio are often said to know you and what you have done before you have said a word, which is why someone like Graham Green was very nervous meeting him, as indeed I would have been too! If we are close to God, the giver of all existence, then we are in touch with the being of the other, even if very obscurely. That is the basis of all pastoral experience.
    Many people in the Church are wounded by our failure to grant that recognition. Women most obviously, in our patriarchal Church, but often the poor, or ethnicminorities, or gay people, may feel invisible, or only seen from outside. In Lima I heard of a photographic exhibition of street kids, where under the photo of one desolate waif was written: Saben que existo, pero no me ven: They know that I exist, but they do not see me. They know that I exist as a statistic, as a menace, as a problem, but they do not see me. William James wrote:
    No more fiendish punishment could be devised, if such a thing were physically possible, than that one should be turned loose in society and remain absolutely unnoticed by all the members thereof. If no one turned around when we entered, answered when we spoke, orminded what we did, but if every person we met cut us dead, and acted as if we were non-existent things, a kind of rage and impotent despair would before long well up in us, from which the cruellest bodily torture would be a relief.
    Pope Benedict XVI wrote in Deus caritas est: Seeing with the eyes of Christ, I can give to others much more than their outward necessities; I can give them the look of love for which they crave. We live in a society in which increasing numbers of people are invisible. Our names are recorded in a thousand ways, our emails are monitored, CCTV cameras record our movements. Big Brother is always watching, but we may feel unseen. These eyes, like the lens of a camera, merely record the surfaces. That is why respect is such a big word on urban streets these days. Urban violence is often the desperate search for respect, for recognition. Erinma Bell, the founder of a peace group in Manchester called Carisma and recent recipient of an MBE, said of gang members: Theyve nothing else in their lives apart from their desperate need to feel a sense of power over others on the street Their days and nights revolve around whether they feel 'disrespected' by their peers or whether some petty grievance or other has flared up into a score that needs to be settled.
    Maybe that is why icons play such a big role in many peoples spirituality today. We do not so much look at icons as let them look at us. According to Rowan Williams, the skill of looking at icons, the discipline of 'reading' them, is indeed the strange skill of letting yourself be seen, be read. In a world in which we often feel invisible, or just seen from outside, as objects, we need to bask in the gaze of Christ or Our Lady or a saint who looks at us benevolently, who gives us, in Pope Benedicts words, the look of love for which we crave. It offers us the compassionate gaze which the CCTV camera does not give.
    So, all pastoral care is fundamentally conversation, a tiny hint of the conversation which is God. And conversation begins with recognition. What are the particular challenges of recognition in the global village?
    The brochure for this pastoral conference quotes Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Am I really what others say of me? Or am I only what I know of myself ? I would suggest that it is precisely in conversation that I inch towards a proper sense of self-identity. And this happens because my sense of who I am is in negotiation with other peoples understanding of my identity. I do have some privileged sense of who I am. I know lots of things about myself that no one else knows, thanks be to God. But it is also true that I discover who I am in other peoples eyes. Gentle conversation helps me towards a sense of identity that is a convergence between who I know myself to be and who I discover myself to be with the other. Friendship allows us both to discover who we are with each other. So a conversation is pastoral if through it the identities of both people are open to evolution and discovery. I will discover a little bit more of who I am with you, and vice versa. Rowan Williams latest book on Dostoevsky demonstrates that this is the key to his understanding of the novel, the open-ended discovery of identity in dialogue.
    But this respectful, exploratory conversation starts with who people think they are, with the face they present to the world. That face may be in part a mask, even a disguise, but it is where one begins. If I meet someone who claims to be punk or a goth, or indeed delights in being rich or whatever, then that is where we begin. When Jesus talked with the rich man, he first loved him as he was, rolling in his wealth, before, at a second stage, Jesus could invite him to be poor. He feasted and drank with the prostitutes and tax collectors as they were. The invitation to discover a deeper identity could come later.
    Here we get to a major challenge for the Church, and I confess that I do not know the answer to it. Many young people root their identities in families that are broken and irregular. Their parents may be single, or living with serial partners, with children by different people or in a gay relationship. To recognise these young people is to recognise the relationships that they have. They will say to us, To accept me, you must accept those who are mine. If we seem to trash their families, in the name of the Christian vision of the family life, then they will think that we are trashing them. I do cherish the Christian vision of family , a man and a woman living together for life and open to the gift of children. We must champion the family. The consequences of its fragility are wounding for society and especially for children. But I must begin where people are, with their fidelities that define their lives. We must hang out with them, accept their hospitality and be their guests. There is no other beginning. So the first stage of pastoral care is conversation, and conversation is based on recognition, and recognition includes beginning where people are, with the identities they claim. Of course my own identity will be called into question as well!
    The next question is: what shall we share in our conversation? What will make a conversation come alive? I think that we need to find concerns, topics, aspirations which we both share and yet which we perceive differently. If what tugs at our hearts is utterly different, then conversation may be hard. And if we have exactly the same views, then it will be boring! I would suggest three areas where Christianity intersects with the aspirations of people in the global village: happiness, freedom and beauty. I had thought of talking about truth, a topic dear to Dominicans, but there is not time for everything.


    People seek happiness. This is the universal human aspiration. Augustine wrote: Everyone wants to be happy. There is no one who will not agree with me on this almost before the words are out of my mouth. Christianity, certainly in the tradition of Augustine and Thomas Aquinas, believes that we are made to find our happiness in God. So, fundamental to our pastoral interaction is the question of happiness.
    The happiness that young people seek is in fact threatened and fragile. Happiness is hard to attain in a fragmented and competitive society. It is menaced by broken families, drug abuse, urban violence and imprisonment. Perhaps even more fundamentally, happiness is often today experienced as an obligation. One must be happy, otherwise one is a failure. And so there is much shame attached to feeling sad. It must be disguised. A survey of Generation Y concludes: Sadness is not easily acknowledged in the face of 'achievable' happiness. For this reason, sadness may be a powerful source of hidden shame and loneliness for young people. One reason for the epidemic of suicides among the young is an imperative to be joyful which they cannot sustain.
    One explanation for this shame for our sorrow is that we have often psychologised it and called it depression. We have turned sorrow, the ordinary human response to lifes suffering, into a mental illness that is to be treated. Two American authors, Horwitz and Wakefield, wrote a book called The Loss of Sadness: How Psychiatry Transformed Normal Sorrow into Depressive Disorder. Of course depression is a real illness which we must treat, but millions of people, they assert, are not suffering from it; they are just sad. And that is the healthy reaction to some situations, and one must learn to live it fruitfully, creatively, with the help of ones friends and ones faith.
    So in our pastoral conversation I hope that we can embody Christian happiness. And this is odd because it is large enough to have a space for sadness, the sadness that is the inevitable consequence of being alive in a world in which there is suffering. At the end of Matthews gospel, Jesus tells the disciples to go and make disciples of all nations, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you (Mt 28:20). And scholars are largely in agreement that what are in question are the Beatitudes. The disciples are sent to teach the beatitudes, which embody Gods bittersweet happiness: happy are the poor, for theirs in the kingdom of heaven; happy are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted; happy are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. This is a strange happiness that is big enough for every sorrow, and that is because it is not the happiness of any single moment but of the whole of Jesus life, which goes from birth to death and resurrection. The sorrow of Good Friday is held in a story which is pointed to the joy of the Father.
    So this is a happiness which we must embody if our words are to have authority. It is said that St Francis preaching made even the fish happy. As a Dominican, I wonder how you can tell a happy fish from a sad one. The most joyful saints are also the most sorrowful, like Francis, or Dominic, who laughed by day with his brethren and wept at night with God. The Abbot Primate of the Benedictines, Notker Wolf, invited some Japanese Buddhist and Shintuist monks to come and stay for two weeks in the monastery of St Ottilien, Bavaria. When they were asked what struck them, they replied, The joy. Why are Catholic monks such joyful people? And it is not only monks who should be infected by this joy. It is a tiny glimpse of the beatitude for which we are all created. It is the exuberance of those who have drunk the new wine of the gospel. The new wine which makes you drunk was the favourite metaphor of the early Dominicans for the gospel.


    And there is freedom. The European Values Surveys have consistently shown that one of the most fundamental values of young people is freedom. Often this is the freedom of the consumer, to buy what he or she wants. The young generally value money not because they are materialistic, for they are not. Rather, it gives them the freedom to go where they want and be whom they wish.
    An advertisement for Levis jeans briefly became a potent symbol of this freedom from constraint. It showed people running on walls, along felled trees, jumping over chasms.9 In Franc
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