I received a gentleman in my office today who is interested in possibly beginning a doctorate in practical theology (that is to say, the theological study and analysis of some practical element of the life of the Christian community). He came looking for input and suggestions, to see if his areas of interest might have practical sources in the life of the Church of Montreal, particularly among the English-speaking faithful. When I asked him about his master’s work, however, I discovered it was in a rather different area. His thesis was on the Second Coming of Christ (parousia) as found in the writing of Saint Paul, and its application to contemporary theology.

The doctrine of the Coming of Christ in glory is one that seems to sometimes almost offend modern ears. It can seem like an element of faith that should be considered more mythological than historical. And yet, the Catholic Church definitely proclaims that there will be a historical component to the Coming of Christ. Another critique of the traditional doctrine, however, is that (for the critics) it removes some of the motivation for striving for justice and the building of a better world. After all, if Christ’s coming will bring a “new Heavens and a new Earth” with it, why not just strive to “get by”, waiting for that Day? Where is our share of responsibility for improving our current age?

For me, one important piece of this puzzle is the fact that the Bible never speaks of the “second” coming, but simply of the “coming” of Christ. The coming of Christ is not simply a future moment in time, but an advent that has already started. “Advent” comes from the words “ad-venire”, i.e. “to come close to”. It is a process. Think of waiting for a person at the train station. You know the person is on a particular train, but the train has not yet pulled in. The person has not yet *arrived*, but certainly is *coming*. The arrival will be in the future, but the coming is an “advent process” — it is already happening in the present.

The Coming of Christ in glory is like that. Just as the first coming of Christ in the flesh began with the descent of the Holy Spirit upon Mary, the second coming of Christ in glory can be said to have begun already with the descent of the Holy Spirit upon the first disciples at Pentecost. Jesus spent 9 months developing in the womb of the Virgin, and while Mary and Joseph (like any other parents) had an image in their minds of what this baby might be like, his birth was still that special moment when the child was “revealed” to them and the world. The Church is like this, too. It its development in the world and progesses, waiting for the day when that development is sufficiently complete for the “revelation” of its true nature as the Body of Christ — a revelation that must include the reappearance of Jesus himself, who is the Head of that Body. It is no wonder, then, that Jesus spoke of the last days before that final revelation as “birth pangs”, or that Paul reminded his readers that when Jesus does appear in glory, that glory will be shared with those who are part of his Body.

It is a false notion, therefore, to try and build the Kingdom of God “now” without a reference to this “later” Coming of Christ, because the Coming, as a process, is actually happening now (and has been for close to 2000 years). It is also a false notion to decide to put off any present action because we are simply waiting for Christ to show up, because we are a part of this process of “now”.

I am therefore really quite delighted to know that there is a gentleman in this city whose initial work was on the Coming of Christ, but who now wants to work in practical theology. Our action, as a Church, must be connected to whatever future end it is that we envisage. A mythological perception of the end will lead to us seeking our ends elsewhere. A proper understanding of the Coming of Christ, though, will help inform all our pastoral actions and decisions, building us up for charity and justice, and getting the world ready for that Great Day.

I had an interesting lunch today with a local businessman who is also a man of faith. He has only been in Montreal for a few years now, and he wanted some insight into why the faith of the people here in Quebec often seems less dynamic. As one can imagine, this is a question I’ve wrestled with myself. The more I think about it, though, the more I come to the conclusion that the crisis of faith that currently seems to be facing Western civilization is not, in fact, a crisis of faith. It is a crisis of hope.

“So what is hope?” asked my interlocutor.

“Hope is what happens when faith meets history,” I told him. “It can be our personal history, or it can be the history of the world, but when the articles of faith start to have an impact on life as it is actually lived, it puts every choice in context and either reveals to us our hope, or challenges us to live a conversion to hope.”

“Can you give me an example?” he asked.

“Think of the belief in angels,” I offered. “It is an article of faith that angels exist. A person can and should believe this, as part of his faith. But so what if angels exist? The simple belief in the existence of angels does not necessarily, in itself, change anything about how one goes about one’s day. It is possible for a person’s faith in the existence of angels to not have immediate consequences for his personal history as it is unfolding. Faith answers the ‘what?’ of belief — it helps give precise content to a set of beliefs. But hope goes further: it gives the ‘so what’.”

A long and interesting exchange ensued. My own thinking on this subject continues to evolve, but one thing I am increasing convinced of is the need for a more narrative form of catechesis, based around a renewed theology of salvation. Saint Peter, in his first letter, did not challenge the early Christians to be able to give reasons for their faith, but for their hope (1 Peter 3:15), and ultimately our hope comes from a conviction that God wants to save us, and that it is possible, in this life, to “work out our salvation” (Philippians 2: 12).

As we were concluding our lunch, my discussion partner challenged me. “Faith is the ‘what’, and hope is the ‘so what’… what about charity?”

“Charity is the ‘now what’,” I answered. He smiled, with a smile that was like one of recognition. So I continued, “Once we have a fuller understanding of faith and how it applies in our lives, whether individually or collectively, there is really only one question left, the same one that the apostles got asked on the day of Pentecost: ‘Brothers, what must we do?’ The specifics of the answer may vary, based on the blessings and talents we possess, but no matter what it must include love of God and love of neighbour. How to live that to the fullest becomes the true ‘now what’ of our lives, lived in the context of the truth of the faith and the hope of salvation history.”

We left it at that, as he had to get to the airport, but I must confess the discussion has been rattling around in my brain ever since. We’ll have to see where it leads.

Let me begin this blog post with the conclusion: I am more and more convinced that *the* key theological issue the Church will need to face in the 21st century is the question of salvation. I explained as much in a video interview I did shortly after my election as a bishop was announced:

One of the earliest Christian creeds, portrayed graphically in the classic fish symbol (the ichthus), declared that Jesus was the Christ, the Son of God, and the Saviour. Today, however, I sense a lot of confusion about that last point. Jesus saves, but how? And from what?

I am seeing these and related questions pop up more and more, from various sources. On the Protestant side, Rob Bell’s recent book Love Wins generated great controversy in Evangelical circles, and stirred so much interest that TIME magazine put the question on one of its April covers. On the Catholic side, Pope Benedict XVI, during his recent visit to Germany, gave an address to German Lutherans in which he asks Luther’s own question, How do I receive the grace of God? As for myself, I recently finished reading Light in Darkness, a critique of Von Balthasar’s theology of the descent of Christ among the dead. A long slog, but a fascinating read.

Like I said in my video interview, I believe that the issue of salvation will be the point of dialogue (and, quite possibly, of contention) between the Catholic Church and other religions, as well as with secular society. Within the Catholic Church, however, we have a lot of work to do as well, because (to put it simply) a lot of people are asking themselves questions about this. I myself, as yet another “sign of the times”, have recently received a lot emails and Facebook messages on the subject, in a completely unsolicited manner. Sometimes the questions are very clear, while other times they are experienced less in the mind and more in the heart as a vague sense of wonder and/or unease. Either way, it behooves us to search our Tradition for the answers, so as to help us all come to greater wisdom and maturity of faith.