No Concrete Life of Faith, No New Beginning

By Costantino Esposito - Without a concrete life of faith, there can be no beginning.

Does Christian thought still resonate in our era? We refer to more than just the tradition that has significantly influenced many societies, particularly in Italy. There's no doubt about the existence of this tradition, though one might argue that today, it's regarded as merely something of the past.

Let's not view Christian thought as a “relic” but as a living experience that can help us understand the fundamental questions of life. It's not just about personal enlightenment but about how this understanding can shape our social history.

The debate started by "Avvenire" on the identity crisis and the impact of Catholic culture, sparked by the insights of Pierangelo Sequeri and Roberto Righetto, deservedly brought to the forefront some fundamental questions. These inquiries underpin all subsequent implications for expression and communication: from what kind of experience does a Christian cultural presence emerge?

What is its true "subject"? Furthermore, what method should it adopt to stay true to its nature?

In this context, I suggest three checkpoints to examine these questions in an era characterized by a "nihilistic" view of human existence and the truth of the world.

Consider this: today, we find ourselves in a scenario that echoes the early Christian experience, a seed of absolute novelty within the historical backdrop of the Roman Empire. This comparison isn't just a historical curiosity but a crucial insight into our present challenges.

A beginning that, in retrospect, may seem complex and problematic due to its differences with the pagan world and even the Jewish world from which it also originated. However, it was primarily fascinating for its protagonists‌ — ‌a captivating allure that was unpredictable and irresistible. This fascination attracted individuals and liberated them from the established norms of cultural, religious, moral‌ and political customs.

The early Christians experienced their existence as beings who were taken up, and their present‌ — ‌as Heidegger once astutely noted‌ — ‌is never merely a result of their past. Instead, it represents how one lives now, anticipating the future. Indeed, for Christians, the past isn't something that fades away; it's the One who comes. It embodies the future, the openness to this Other who continually arrives and engages with me, marking the beginning of time for those enveloped in Christ.

Here, a deep analogy emerges: even in our age, the Christian experience‌ — ‌by its very nature, and not merely due to the erosion of Christianity‌ — ‌must begin anew because of such an attraction rather than relying solely on its admittedly grand tradition.

The challenge for those who first embraced Christianity was not and can't be seen as a mere project of cultural elaboration. Rather, the opposite is true: that beginning contained within it a principle that led to the impressive development of civilization, which emerged specifically from a unique life experience.

Culture can only spring from life, yet the reverse‌ — ‌life arising from culture‌ — ‌is seldom true. Therefore, no analysis of the waning influence of Catholic culture in our time, nor any "therapeutic" recommendations, can sidestep revisiting the problem of the beginning of Christian history. This beginning isn't archaeological but existential; it's present as a perpendicular line that crosses, intersects, and, in a sense, "cuts" through every moment of passing time.

From this perspective, the interpretative frameworks typically employed to explain the phenomenon of the post-Christian era‌ — ‌primarily the concept of "secularization"—tend to complicate the issue rather than clarify it. The central question is not so much why the Christian tradition has lost its appeal and cultural effectiveness. Rather, it's about understanding from what experience of novelty this tradition could originate, and how, where‌ and in what forms it continues to be reborn today.

Moreover, the most thorough studies on secularization interpret it not merely as a loss of religious tradition's values but also as an opportunity‌ — ‌an opening to choose to re-engage with Christianity freely. Charles Taylor emphasized this in his latest book, Questions of Meaning in the Secular Age (Mimesis, 2023).

The second verification point concerning the loss of vibrancy in Catholic culture today must address its apparent lack of focus on the desire for the self. Furthermore, when an announcement from the past no longer resonates with or roots itself in this desire, it becomes undesirable. Indeed, desire is also precarious and dangerous, as it can spill over into the subjective and arbitrary.

However, desire always encompasses something infinite, carrying a connection to an infinite reality within it. This is a revolutionary principle of Christianity, in contrast to the pagan fear of hubris and the ongoing attempts (even today) to temper the dangers of excess through moralizing behavior.

Christian experience, once stripped of the moralistic reductions that have often tempted it throughout the centuries, has opted to focus on liberating desire rather than mortifying it. This approach might seem paradoxical to the traditional view of Catholic morality. Yet, desire remains a crucial path to recognizing the mystery of an encounter that aligns with the expectations of the human heart and reason. "Is there anyone who desires life and longs for long days to taste good?" asks Psalm 34 at the beginning of the Rule of St. Benedict, from whose charism the great civilization of Europe emerged.

Pointing to this desire for the infinite doesn't imply conforming Christianity to individualistic relativism; rather, it highlights the essential dynamic of the Christian community itself.

If Christ unifies his people, he does so by reawakening each person's desire for life and happiness through his historical presence. This desire consistently serves as the personal catalyst for initiating new cultural and social processes.

If a Catholic culture were to harbor a fear of desire akin to a fear of freedom, it would focus merely on preventing risks, limiting damage‌ and externally dictating the duties toward which people should orient their experiences. However, ultimately, it would lose touch with the intrinsic nature of these experiences.

In conclusion, if I were to pinpoint the mechanism through which a culture emerges and evolves within the Christian experience‌ — ‌one that truly resonates with the deepest desires and the quest for freedom among humans‌ — ‌I would highlight a departure from the traditional Catholic view of life. This culture distinguishes itself by reinvigorating, appreciating, and expanding questions rather than merely passing down pre-established answers.

Alternatively, the most genuine answers to human inquiries are those that perpetually renew these questions. Isn't this, fundamentally, the approach of Christ? When Jesus first encounters John and Andrew, He doesn't provide them with explanations, discourses‌ or moral precepts‌ — ‌elements already abundant in their religious practices. Instead, He presents Himself as the living answer and asks, "What do you seek?" (John 1:38).

This is how the answer "happens": by provoking the question in response to which He can declare and present Himself as the answer.

The young theologian Joseph Ratzinger articulated this beautifully as early as 1966: "The vitality of the Christian response—thus its ability to shape culture—essentially requires the living experience of questioning; the Christian proclamation must continually draw its life and relevance in humanity from this questioning" (from Church Open to the World?). Pope Francis echoed this sentiment in the introduction to Questions of God, Questions to God.
In Dialogue with the Bible by Timothy Radcliffe and Lukasz Popko (LEV 2023), it states: "Christianity has always aligned itself with those who question because—I am convinced of this—God truly cherishes questions. He values questions more than answers because while answers bring closure, questions keep possibilities open."
Unrevised translation by the author. Avvenire - 05.19.2024