I have so much hope in the future of our church.
As a co-author of the recently released book Catholicism at a Crossroads: The Present and Future of America’s Largest Church, I have cooperated with fellow sociologists in using some typical data-gathering methods: a survey of over 1,500 randomly selected adult Catholics as well as interviews. We opted to talk to nearly 60 Catholics who are in significant leadership positions, from cardinals to those more “behind the scenes” at the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops to leaders of lay apostolates. Both the survey and the thoughtful interview responses reveal big challenges as well as immense graces. Now the findings are available to the public.
And so, I wait.
I wait to see who will read it. I wait to see how those readers will use our analysis to inform the discussions and ministries of the church. In short, I wait to see how our empirical data and engagement with the broader context of Catholicism will actually matter for the life of the church.
And in my waiting, a question arises that is really for all of us: How and why should the church use empirical evidence for ministry and discernment?
Proper Orientation
My initial response, given my own sense of vocation and ministry through my scholarship, is one of enthusiasm. I have been engaged in my scholarly work at the intersection of Catholicism and so many topics: Hispanic stewardship, campus ministry, young adults, Catholics who attend Mass infrequently and priestly well-being, to name just a few. My research has provided a better understanding of the problems as well as illuminated possibilities for going forward. I want my research to make a difference.
But my second response is more tempered. Even with my near-perpetual “Let’s do it!” attitude, I am also keenly aware of the complicated nature of the move from research findings to prescribing practical steps forward. Whenever I offer specific pastoral recommendations, I do so with humility, believing that those closest to the situation know best. I know there is no cookie-cutter solution to something as wonderfully complex as church life.
And yet even with my reservations, I want to offer a guiding principle to people approaching scholarship and looking for a path forward: Be mindful of how you are grounded—that is, of your orientation—when you approach empirical data. That orientation can shape everything.
The Good Samaritan
To draw a parallel with Scripture, I look to the parable of the good Samaritan. Often, if you ask folks about that parable, they’ll recount the story itself. What is often forgotten is the conversation before and after the parable between Jesus and the expert in the law.
First, the man wants to know how to attain salvation. This is important information! Jesus asks him what the Scriptures say. The man responds, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” Jesus applauds his answer, but the man asks Jesus a follow-up question: “And who is my neighbor?” In other words, he wants to know the limits of this call to love; he wants to know who he can exclude from “neighbor” and yet remain in God’s favor.
To this straightforward yet disorienting question, Jesus responds with the parable of the good Samaritan, which might seem at first to be akin to telling his interlocutor the price of tea in China. But he closes with an altogether different question, one that is meant to reorient: “Which of these three [the priest, the Levite or the Samaritan], do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” Jesus shifts the question from one of limits and exclusion to a call for compassion and inclusion.
If we ask the wrong question or look for an answer with a misaligned orientation, our “answers” will not be fruitful. They may even be distracting or, worse, destructive.
Fear, Denial and Trust
In To Flourish or Destruct, the sociologist Christian Smith uses the philosophical approach of personalism to explain what motivates human behavior. After exploring in most of the book the natural goods that motivate human behavior, he turns to give an explanation for sin.
The relevant takeaway for our purpose is that humans share a universal experience of vulnerability. Smith highlights three common orientations people take toward their vulnerability. First, they can fear it and take an embattled posture, seeing challenges as threats. Second, they can deny their vulnerability. Third, they can accept their vulnerability and still flourish in their admittedly fragile existence through an orientation of trust.
We do the same when we approach data. If we approach the reality of undocumented immigrants through a lens of fear, we will be suspicious of their intentions, feel unsafe when “we” find “them” in our neighborhoods and churches, and want them sent back to their country of origin (fortunately, my co-authors and I found much support for immigrants among Catholics and the leadership of the church). If we deny climate change data, the way forward is moot; we reject the methods of the study or the human role in the changes, sidestep accountability and continue with business as usual. Unfortunately, both fear and denial are often more like reactions than true responses to reality.
However, with an orientation of trust, we are fully aware of our reality. We see the challenges as well as our capacity and limits to respond. We don’t give up hope, even if “the plan” is nebulous or fluid. We recognize that the scope of our knowledge is also limited, but we trust that we will learn more as we proceed. We do what we are able to do without being overwhelmed by the pieces of the plan we cannot do; we trust that others will do theirs. This orientation is the one we should adopt when we are figuring out the “what’s next” from the experiences in our lives. This applies to us as a church, too. We need to be aware of our orientation when we approach data and discern ways forward.
The Way Ahead
What I say of trust could be said for any of the virtues. Not only should trust inform the church’s application of data to new directions, but so should hope, fidelity, tenderness, generosity, kindness, gratitude, humility, faith, mercy, courage, compassion, patience, justice, tenacity, wisdom and, most of all, love. Fear (e.g., “I’m feeling really overwhelmed by these obstacles”) or denial (e.g., “Meh, we’ll be fine.... Find a quick fix”) might find their way into our thoughts and deliberations, but we should acknowledge this and prayerfully reorient ourselves toward the good.
The whole process of the recent Synod on Synodality was permeated with trust. From the conversations at tables in parishes around the world to those on the synod floor, Pope Francis called for a process in which we would listen to one another. We did not know what the outcome would be. We could safely assume that it would be neither clean nor uniform across the world’s Catholics. But we could trust that the Spirit would guide us.
And although the synod itself is done, its ending is actually a beginning. As the ripples grow and the work gets underway in earnest, we will continue to discover the fruits of these dialogues as well as what more is to be done. For instance, the synod’s discussions of the roles of women in the church led to my involvement with a project at the Institute for Advanced Catholic Studies at the University of Southern California exploring women in Catholic leadership roles across the United States, as well as a similar project in my diocese. Local, regional, national and global communities are still asking great questions that will shape the future of our church.
I offer two suggestions as the church considers how it might more effectively use empirical findings to discern new directions. My first suggestion is practical. It would be wise for dioceses and the U.S.C.C.B. to have interdisciplinary advisory bodies of Catholic researchers. When new data comes out, it is helpful to know whether this represents a broader pattern or is just a fluke. Bishops and other ministers have a lot on their plates; to keep up with the vast amount of Catholic scholarship across a variety of disciplines is simply not possible.
These advisory bodies would help leaders think through the implications of the data (as well as any methodological or analytical questions) and collaboratively situate potential next steps within a broader context informed by both ministry and research. This way we can better ensure that we are responding to new findings and not just reacting.
My second suggestion is more human. We are called not to succeed—that is, for an intended outcome to come to fruition—but to be faithful. There are a lot of factors we, as individuals or as groups or as a church, cannot control. We can’t let that overwhelm, distract or discourage us. One thing we can control is ourselves and our responses.
There is a lot of overlap between trust and hope. The Jubilee Year’s theme, “Pilgrims of Hope,” reminds us of our call to be faithful even when things seem dark and the challenges great. Amid all that we cannot control, what we can do is respond with immense goodness.
I think there is no more compelling example of this hope-filled orientation in Scripture than the women who went to anoint Jesus’ body on that first Easter morning. On their way it hit them: “Who will roll away the stone?” Although they realized they could not do this on their own, they did not turn back discouraged. Instead, even with this unanswered question and facing the apparently impossible, they pressed on, determined to be faithful to what was theirs to do.
Catholicism at a Crossroads is a part of what is mine to do. My co-authors and I explore Catholics’ experiences with parish life, their approach to authority and the ways in which their faith intersects with politics, race, family life and more. For that reason, we left ample loose ends, depending on the readers to weave them together as appropriate for their contexts.
Following this study of the pulse of American Catholic life, I know we have the ability to become the church God is calling us to be. The question is whether we will do all that this requires—together—in a spirit of love and encounter. This truly is Catholicism’s crossroads.
As I said at the outset, I have a great deal of hope in the future of the church. As we sift through whatever data we come across, let’s walk together, faithfully do our part and trust that when we get to “next,” we’ll find the stone rolled away.
