Month: September 2026

How does a Catholic teacher deal with students who have different moral perspectives or come from different religious backgrounds?

Deacon Douglas McManaman

There is no other way to deal with such students than to welcome them, accept them, and love them. If they chose to attend a Catholic school, it would appear that they want what the school has to offer, and what we have to offer–or should have to offer–is a learning space that is rooted in genuine listening and dialogue, not to mention a community that prays. And so, it is very important not to get flustered by a highly diverse classroom. My last 20 years of my teaching career took place in a very diversified religious environment. We had a rather significant percentage of Muslim and Hindu students, some Sikh students, Buddhists and even atheists, not to mention a good percentage of Catholics. In the end, they made me a better Catholic, a more ecumenically minded one, and the study of the gospels, according to these students, made them better Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs, etc. The teaching of religion and school wide masses was clearly not a source of contention for these students. In fact, the devout Muslim, Hindu and Sikh students were my biggest cheerleaders. Moreover, the Muslim students typically had a much better understanding of the Catholic faith than did most of the Catholic students. 

C. S. Lewis made the point that when we study various cultures throughout history, specifically their understanding of morality, what is striking is not how radically different their moral systems are to our own, but how similar their moralities are to ours in the Western world: for example, no culture honours those who run away in battle, or the liar or thief, etc. The reason is that there is one universal moral law, just various degrees of understanding of those principles and their application, which is where conflict typically arises in the world. 

As for the variety of religions, it is very important that we understand one another if we are ever going to be able to live together in peace with one another. But better still, it is more important that we learn from one another, that is, allow other religions to make us more deeply and completely religious; for Western Christianity certainly does not have a monopoly on God. In fact, it can be argued that the Catholicism of the Latin West has allowed itself to be far too influenced by Neo-Platonism, and so although Greek thought has brought a great deal to Christian culture, a perspective is always limited and open to further expansion. Indigenous spirituality, for example, can do much to help us cultivate a deeper reverence for the earth as well as a more consistent appreciation of the sacramental character of creation. Eastern thought can help enrich the mystical aspects of the Catholic faith. In fact, we can look at the various religions of the world as an upside down pyramid, with the wider base at the top and the single point of convergence at the bottom. On the top surface we can place the various religions of the world in chronological order, from the left to the right. But as we enter more and more deeply into the mystical branches of these religions, such as Sufism, or Taoism, Zen, or Hasidism, the more we converge towards one another, and soon it becomes very difficult if not impossible to distinguish between them–at some point they all begin to speak the same language. This suggests a common origin. In other words, on a very profound level, we really are brothers and sisters.

To discover this, however, requires an ability to listen. A religiously diversified classroom is a perfect space in which to learn to listen to one another. For centuries now, religious people, Catholics included of course, have been more or less sectarian. Some people are so entrenched within a tribal “us and them” mindset that they are scandalized when a Catholic preacher quotes the Hadith (Sayings of Muhammed), or repeats a Hasidic tale, or cites a Protestant scripture scholar.

Granted, some Muslim parents were very nervous about the prospects of their child taking a religion course in a Catholic school for fear that their child would be pressured to convert. Hence, it is important to distinguish between proselytizing and evangelization, a distinction that many are still unclear about.[1] Pope Francis addressed this distinction. He wrote:  

Don’t proselytize; respect others’ beliefs. We can inspire others through witness so that one grows together in communicating. But the worst thing of all is religious proselytism, which paralyzes: ‘I am talking with you in order to persuade you,‘ No. Each person dialogues, starting with his and her own identity. The church grows by attraction, not proselytizing.”

Evangelization is neither apologetics nor an attempt to convert others to our religion. It is the proclamation of the good news (evangelion) of the risen Christ, and we do that first and foremost by living in the joy of Easter and loving others as another self (Mt 22, 39).

The wonderful thing about an interreligious environment is that students eventually realize that the Hindu or Muslim girl sitting next to me, the Sikh boy behind me, and the Catholic teacher in front of me, etc., are not the “infidels” or “lost souls” that I might have been led to believe they were, but really are my brothers/sisters. The classroom is meant to be a learning space, and genuine learning can only take place in an environment in which everyone has learned how to listen (synodality), because listening gives rise to intelligent discourse. Nancy Kline writes: 

Attention, the act of listening with palatable respect and fascination, is the key to a Thinking Environment. Listening of this calibre is enzymatic. When you are listening to someone, much of the quality of what you are hearing is your effect on them. Giving good attention to people makes them more intelligent. Poor attention makes them stumble over their words and seem stupid. Your attention, your listening is that important. We think we listen, but we don’t. We finish each other’s sentences, we interrupt each other, we moan together, we fill in the pauses with our own stories, we look at our watches, we sigh, frown, tap our finger, read the newspaper, or walk away. We give advice, give advice, give advice. Even professional listeners listen poorly much of the time. They come in too soon with their own ideas. They equate talking with looking professional. …Listening to each other, if you want to think for yourselves, requires discipline and the most profound attention for each other.[2] 


Notes

 

  1. “If I had power and could legislate, I should certainly stop all proselytizing. It is the cause of much avoidable conflict between classes and unnecessary heart-burning. But I should welcome people of any nationality if they came to serve here for the sake of service. In Hindu households the advent of a missionary has meant the disruption of the family coming in the wake of change of dress, manners, language, food and drink.” Mahatma Gandhi, originally published in his weekly journal, Harijan, on November 5, 1935.
  2. Nancy Kline. Time to Think: Listening to Ignite the Human Mind (pp. 37-38). (Function). Kindle Edition.

 

Brief Reflection on the Triumph of the Cross

Deacon Douglas McManaman

 

Consider this part of today’s gospel reading:  

And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life. For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.

The more I go on in my life as a Deacon and have to listen to various preachers as well as many faithful Catholics, the more I am convinced that so many of us have missed the radical nature of the good news (gospel), likely because we have read such passages against the background of centuries old prejudice against Protestantism, in particular Martin Luther’s emphasis on the principle that we are saved by faith, not works. A very important document came out in 1999 that many Catholics are unaware of entitled the “Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification“. It was created and agreed to by the Church’s Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity and the Lutheran World Federation as a result of Catholic–Lutheran dialogue. It states that the churches now share “a common understanding of our justification by God’s grace through faith in Christ.”

It’s a very important document, because to anyone who reads St. Paul or the gospels carefully, it is obvious that we are not saved by our works, but by grace through faith in Christ. This does not mean faith as in a simple assent to a set of theological propositions; rather, it means believing that by his death on the cross, Christ has defeated death definitively, and that forgiveness of sins and eternal life is ours for the accepting. So many of the parables point to this fact, but many instinctively believe that such an arrangement is too good to be true, and so they drift back into a transactional covenant, an Old Testament legalism, so to speak. The only work necessary is faith that Christ has saved us from death by his death–everything else will follow from that. Jesus says: “And this is the will of Him that sent Me: that every one who sees the Son and believes in Him may have everlasting life, and I will raise him up at the Last Day.” 

And notice the last half of today’s gospel: “For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him”. The gospel, the good news, is a message of salvation. It’s not a morality–even though it has moral implications–, it’s not a set of rules and regulations, nor is it an ideology; rather, it is about a Person, namely Christ himself, who came to save the lost and give his life as a ransom for many. In short, it is about the Triumph of the Cross. 

Over the years I’ve noticed that many people would like the person preaching to be a conduit of their anger. In that anger, they inevitably project a Christ who condemns. They don’t really want the good news, it seems. But I was reading from a great Scripture scholar and theologian the other day who was commenting on the verse: “Many are called, but few are chosen”. Allow me to quote a portion of what he wrote, because I can’t hope to say it any better.  He writes: 

What then do I make of, “Many are called but few are chosen”? Just this. The sad truth of our fallen condition is that we don’t want anything to do with a system of salvation that works by grace through faith. We want our merits, sleazy though they may be, to be rewarded–and we want everybody else’s obviously raunchy behavior punished. We are like pitiful little bargain-hunters going to a used-car lot with $265 worth of hard-earned cash in our pockets and looking for the ultimate transport of delight. But just as we are about to give up and go away, the salesman comes up to us with a smile on his face and whispers in our ear: “You really want a car?” “Come around to the back of the lot. Have I got a deal for you!” And back there, gleaming in the sun, is a brand-new Porsche. “It’s yours for free,” he says. “The boss just likes you; here are the keys.”  

Many are called: there is no one in the whole world, good, bad, or indifferent, who isn’t walked around to the back of the lot by the divine Salesman and offered heaven for nothing. But few are chosen: because you know what most of us do? First thing–before we so much as let ourselves sink into the leather upholstery or listen to the engine purr–we get suspicious. We walk around the car and kick the tires. We slam the doors. We jump up and down on the bumpers to test the shocks. And then, even if we do decide to take it, we start right in worrying about the warranty, fussing about the cost of insuring a sports car, and even fuming about whether, if our no-good neighbor came in here, he might be offered a Rolls Royce Silver Cloud. But God doesn’t help us–at least not with all that tough-customer routine. He just sits up there in the front office and remains Mr. Giveaway, the Mad Dog Tyson of Parousia Motors, the Crazy Eddy of Eternity whose prices are insane. He gives heaven to absolutely everybody: nothing down, no interest, no payments. And he makes hell absolutely unnecessary for anybody. 

The only catch is, you have to be as crazy as God to take the deal, because your every instinct will be to distrust such a cockamamy arrangement. You have to be willing to believe in an operation that would put any respectable God out of the deity business. Which, nicely enough, lands us right back at the parable: a king who throws parties that any other king would be ashamed of, representing a God who refuses to act like one; and a hell only for idiots who insist on being serious. (Robert Farrar Capon: The Parables of Judgment. Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1993)

 

Some Thoughts on Mary

Deacon Douglas McManaman

As a result of my encounter with the Salesians of Don Bosco very early on in my teaching career, I have been deeply inspired by the life and visions of St. John Bosco. However, I was never able to warm up to the image of Our Lady Help of Christians (Don Bosco’s Madonna), a heavy set woman wearing a gold jewelled crown and holding a royal scepter in her right hand, while cradling in her left arm a rather plump baby Jesus, who wears a similar gold, jewelled crown atop his rather large head. This image struck me as a cultural projection. In fact, it is typical of us to create our images of Jesus and Mary “in our own image”, as it were. Every Advent a local parish treats us to a very large display of international nativity scenes, which illustrate well the tendency to create the Holy Family in our own cultural image. The international nativity scenes are somewhat more exhilarating for me, because it is rather obvious in this context that no single culture is the paradigm instance of the nativity, and so it tends to inspire a more global theological perspective. 

That is why I believe it is important to take our own Western images of the Blessed Mother with a grain of salt; for they embody a perception that likely has more to say about us than it does about the historical Mary of Nazareth. Mary was an Israelite, a first century Palestinian Jew. Her skin would have been brown, and her character should be gleaned more from the data of Scripture than from projections rooted in a patriarchal Western European society, which for the most part lends the impression that Mary was a quiet, submissive, passive, and dependent woman, disposed to be subject exclusively to male guidance. If Mary was the pre-eminent Israelite woman, she would have had integrated within her all the characteristics of the great women of the Old Testament, such as the wisdom, courage, and leadership qualities of Deborah, the humility, work ethic, and initiative of Ruth, and the shrewdness and sacrificial spirit of Esther and Judith. 

In fact, there is much that we can infer from a consideration of the first chapter of Luke’s gospel. For example, at the Annunciation, the angel Gabriel says to her: 

“Hail, favored one! The Lord is with you. But she was greatly troubled at what was said and pondered what sort of greeting this might be ….” 

Mary was troubled at what was said because she did not see herself as highly favored by God. And if she is the exemplar of perfect humility, it is only because she did not consciously regard herself as better than anyone.

“During those days Mary set out and traveled to the hill country in haste to a town of Judah, …”

Notice that she was not accompanied by Joseph or any other man, and so this would have been a particularly dangerous journey. Jesus sent the disciples out two by two for the sake of their own safety, but Mary set out in haste, motivated by the condition of her cousin, Elizabeth, with the intention of caring for her until the birth of John. And so, she is a woman of great courage and initiative who acted independently. 

In her Magnificat, she says: 

“My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my savior. For he has looked upon his handmaid’s lowliness….”

Once again, Mary sees herself as lowly (tapeinos). She is not exalted in her own eyes, that is, she does not see herself as special. 

“The Mighty One has done great things for me, …”

She sees that it is God who has done great things for her, not the other way around, and there is no hint in these verses that she merited divine favor. She simply acknowledges the utter gratuity of divine grace or favor.   

“His mercy is from age to age to those who fear him….”

She knows this because He had mercy on her, and she knows from within her own fear of God.  

“He has shown might with his arm, dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart. He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones but lifted up the lowly. The hungry he has filled with good things; the rich he has sent away empty….”

She rejoices in justice and the divine mercy that serves justice, and this is true only because she had a longing for that justice. In other words, injustice moved her to anger and sadness, albeit a patient anger and sadness. The degree of that sadness can be inferred from the degree of her exuberance. And so she was not one to stand by meek, mild, and unmoved by human oppression; rather, she was someone who observed and was willing to name the arrogance of the ruling class. She is attuned to the suffering, to victims of injustice, the hungry, which causes her to be incensed at the arrogance of the oppressive rich. She is one who delights in the victory of the lowly. In short, this is a woman who burns with a desire for justice.  

“He has helped Israel his servant, remembering his mercy, according to his promise to our fathers, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

She loves Israel as did the great Jewish women of the Old Testament; she has a definite sense that she belongs to a larger nation but is just one among many, 

“Mary remained with her about three months and then returned to her home…”

Again, she returns home on her own, without any mention of accompaniment, but only after staying for three months, doing ordinary tasks ordered to the support of her cousin. Menial and ordinary household tasks are not below her, and she stays for the last third of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, when she is needed the most. 

Another important point is that Mary tends to be amazed at what is said to her. We see this at the Presentation. She is amazed at the words of Simeon and Anna the Prophetess. In other words, she is one who can be impressed with others and can learn from them, that is, she allows herself to be enlarged by others. She has no pretensions nor airs of superiority. And she ponders. She thinks about what is happening around her. She does not have an immediate and comprehensive grasp of things, and so she patiently ponders on what things could possibly mean. And she spent three days looking for Jesus when they discovered he didn’t return home with them after a day’s journey. So she understands the pain of loss, the pain of intense anxiety.  

“When his parents saw him, they were astonished, and his mother said to him, “Son, why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety….”

It is not Joseph, the man, who speaks; rather, she takes the initiative and asks: “Why have you done this to us?” And yet, she puts Joseph first: “Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety”. She is not calm and collected with some ethereal trust in God; rather, she panics. Three days of anxiety at the possible loss of a child is terrible suffering, and this suffering enables her to sympathize with parents who have lost their own child. But she also very subtly calls out her son, challenging him, a twelve year old boy so focused on what interests him that he fails to consider his parents. She corrects this typical adolescent absent mindedness: “Why have you done this to us?”, and not: “It is we who are at fault….”. No, it was you, Jesus. You did this to us.  

After that, Jesus is obedient to them. Mary still did not completely understand all this, but kept all of it in her heart, to ponder, so as to eventually discover the meaning of it all. Thus, she is patient, and she clearly understands that understanding is going to take time and thought.