101. Signs of the Times

These four documents date from the years before we became a covenant community. They are snapshots of the “signs of the times”: the powerful effects of the Cursillo movement, the mention of the charismatic gifts at the Second Vatican Council, community-building in Latin America and the spread of baptism in the Spirit.

Contents

1. The Cursillo Movement

2. The mention of the charismatic gifts at the Second Vatican Council

3. Community-building in Latin America

4. The spread of baptism in the Spirit

The Cursillo movement

During the early 1960s, the Cursillo movement thrived in South Bend—at Notre Dame, primarily among faculty members, and in town, among local businessmen and civic leaders. What follows are two testimonies about the Cursillo. The first is by Carlos Calatayud Maldonado, a lawyer and a father of eight children. He made a Cursillo given in Ciudad Real, Spain, on March 24–27, 1956. Six Cursillos had already taken place in that city. This testimony is excerpted from a much lengthier 1964 description of that weekend. It is purported to be among the earliest recorded testimonies of a Cursillo weekend.  The second testimony is by an “Ohio Cursillista” (a cursillista is a Cursillo participant).  It was a Letter to the Editor, written in response to a somewhat negative magazine article about the Cursillo. It too was published in 1964.   

M. Carlos Calatayud Maldonado, “I went to a Cursillo: Testimony of a Layman,” Christ to the World, Vol IX (1964), pp. 485–499.

I went to the Cursillo just because people gave me no peace. At the club, at the town hall, at the county Council, on the telephone, in short in all places and on all occasions, those of my friends who had attended a cursillo were continually bothering me, saying that I ought to experience it, that it was the most interesting thing I could do in my life.

At that time there were only some sixty “cursillistas”; you would have thought there were a thousand of them. On all sides, there was talk of the cursillos de Cristiandad. Those who had taken part in one kept urging the others: this is more than ever the right moment, they would say.  What is certain is that they would not leave me alone.

. . . . A close friend of mine, a surgeon by profession, had been speaking urgently to me about it for several days, every time we met. That day, I don’t know why, I told him that if there was room for me, I would go to the cursillo which was to take place immediately before Holy Week, since I had a few days free then. He took me at my word.

When I tried to analyze my state of mind afterwards, I realized what had influenced my decision. It was: a) the joy I had noticed among those who had attended a cursillo; b) the changes I had seen in their behavior; c) my extreme curiosity to find out what it was that made people so enthusiastic. As a matter of fact, I think the last motive was the determinant one. . . . 

To go to the Cursillo, I travelled by bus. I observed my companions; it was impossible to distinguish those who were going as teachers from those who, like myself, were going for the first time. There were all kinds of people: two priests, an engineer, Civil Servants or employees in private firms, day labourers, lawyers, doctors, financiers . . . There was no point of contact among us, except that some of us knew one another by sight, since we lived in the same town, or had neighbourly or professional relationships. . . .

In the course of [one] rollo [talk], my reactions and those of many others who afterwards confided in me were as follows:

For the first time in my life, the grandeur of the Christian’s vocation became clear to me:  a holy man, a participant in divine nature, a living temple of the Holy Spirit, a member of Christ, a friend of God, a brother of Jesus, an heir of heaven.

Christianity was not a religion of bitter people, nor a religion of prohibitions, a narrow moral code the difficulties of which had to be overcome in order to live as well as possible. I discovered in it the highest destiny a man could dream of: to be like God, to be a participant in divine nature. I was dazzled and filled with enthusiasm. . . .

The third rollo was given by the lay director. He began by pointing out that the action of Catholics in the Church does not consist in unfurling flags or walking in processions or distributing circulars or taking the collection at Sunday Mass. He quoted some pontifical texts which show clearly that the setting up of all things in Christ is attached to the action of Catholics, which amounts to saying that the salvation of the world is attached to it. . . .

. . . . The language, unaffected, hard, manly, struck home. Our feet must be firmly planted on the unshakable rock of a supernatural inner life; we must conquer the world and offer it to the Father with our arms. It was impressive to hear a layman speak of these matters; especially for those who were not churchgoers and had an idea that all that was the business of priests and women. . . . 

. . . . That made us think.  It was interesting. A restlessness, a feeling of uneasiness was aroused in us. Christianity was revealing itself under new aspects: that of a religion of action inspired by a feeling of heroic adventure, which made life something worth living; that of a religion unique in its appeal. So, at the bottom of our hearts, we felt a surge of pride at being Christians.

“Ohio Cursillista,” Letters to the Editor, The Ave Maria, 28 March 1964, pp. 3–4. 

For one year my husband fought shy of signing up for a Cursillo. He was afraid his back wouldn’t stand sleeping on a cot. He was afraid he’d be spoon-fed or brainwashed, or given a rousing dose of religion like an old-fashioned revival.

And when he left for the Cursillo he said, rather grimly, “I am just doing this because you keep needling me.”

So I felt guilty. But when he came home on Sunday evening he said, “I spent the happiest three days of my life. It’s the greatest.”

Since then, I have made a Cursillo. Several months have gone by, so I am not writing in the white heat of an experience.

Results? We do not mean to downgrade retreats, which a Cursillo is not, in spite of the title of the article. But what both of us failed to find in retreats (defined as an encounter with God) we found in the Cursillo. We had found it difficult to realize the presence of God in the arid vastnesses of our own souls. Seeing the same people pass us, grimly and silently searching for God, left us feeling emptier than ever.

Then at the Cursillo, in the happy laughter and genuine friendliness of 60 or more people, we looked around, and there was God. He was there in the minds and hearts of all our newfound friends, in their songs and even in their jokes. White, Negro, Puerto Rican, priests, nuns, young, old, married, single. We were all searching for God and we found Him in each other.

No new theology, understand. But our faith took on a new dimension. What had been a picture on the wall became real—something to cling to. We were indeed one in Christ.

Corny? Perhaps. But it came to us that this must have been what the early Christians found. Certainly the pagans of that day would never have been attracted to the new Faith if all they had seen of it was grim-faced, well-dressed people hurrying off to Mass because they had to go, and loaded with “Don’ts” and “Can’ts” and “Musts.” 

It takes a bit of humility, too, to make a Cursillo. One must be willing to admit that one’s vision may be improved. It is rather interesting that many of those who are very active workers in the parish, the older pillars shall we say, are convinced that the Cursillo has nothing to offer them. Perhaps it has not.

Perhaps they already have that sense of fellowship which is a gift of the Cursillo. Perhaps they wouldn’t see any reason to offer prayers for other cursillistas, or to rejoice, to laugh and sing with them. There are other ways to heaven, we know, as there are many kinds of people who are trying to get there.

I only know that for my husband and me, our life together which had been harmony has suddenly become melody. There are so many more things that we share!

I think, to paraphrase Gamaliel, “if this thing be of God it will not be stopped. If it be not of God it will die by itself.” What it did can be compared only to Pentecost, and we prefer to think that the Cursillo is a gift of the Holy Spirit to His “little flock”—a preview of heaven, if you will.

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The mention of the charismatic gifts at the Second Vatican Council

What follows is a quotation from section 4 of Lumen Gentium: The Dogmatic Constitution on the Church. This is one of the principal documents of the Roman Catholic Second Vatican Council and was promulgated on November 21, 1964, following approval by the assembled bishops by a vote of 2,151 to 5. The mention of the charismatic gifts was quite notable at the time; some called it a “rediscovery.”  

When the work which the Father gave the Son to do on earth was accomplished, the Holy Spirit was sent on the day of Pentecost in order that He might continually sanctify the Church, and thus, all those who believe would have access through Christ in one Spirit to the Father. He is the Spirit of Life, a fountain of water springing up to life eternal. To men, dead in sin, the Father gives life through Him, until, in Christ, He brings to life their mortal bodies. The Spirit dwells in the Church and in the hearts of the faithful, as in a temple. In them He prays on their behalf and bears witness to the fact that they are adopted sons. The Church, which the Spirit guides in way [sic] of all truth and which He unified in communion and in works of ministry, He both equips and directs with hierarchical and charismatic gifts and adorns with His fruits. By the power of the Gospel He makes the Church keep the freshness of youth. Uninterruptedly He renews it and leads it to perfect union with its Spouse.  The Spirit and the Bride both say to Jesus, the Lord, “Come!”

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Community-building in Latin America

“Laymen . . . is what it takes!” is an article from the April 8, 1967 issue of America magazine about the building of Christian community, by lay people, in a poor district of Panama City, Panama.  This article contributed to the vision of the People of Praise and to work in the Apostolic Institute.  For more on the Apostolic Institute, see source #100:  “Background Information for 1971–1975 Sources.”

Laymen . . .  is what it takes! 

By Francisco Bravo

In Panama, priests from Chicago have seen their parish grow, nourished on the word of God and a Christian sense of community. 

San Miguelito is a sprawling area of some 20 square miles, lying to the east of Panama City. Most of its 45,000 in-habitants are newcomers from the interior of the country. Until recently, it was one of the saddest, most abandoned districts of Panama City. The shacks of the poor, built on squatter’s land, were piled helter-skelter, their thin wooden walls and roofs of corroding tin giving scant protection from the heat, rain and humidity. There were no paved streets, no lights, no water, no police protection. And worst of all, people lived under the constant threat of eviction. 

About six years ago, the government decided to develop this area. The Institute of Housing and Urbanization, collaborating with the Bank of Interamerican Development, began a program of low-cost housing with easy, long-term payments. To date, hundreds of these houses have been built. At least four of the barrios, or sectors, in San Miguelito have grown beyond their original limits, as the modest but attractive housing developments slowly spread over the district’s hills and valleys. Although there are still 12 dilapidated barrios de emergencia, the people walk with a new air of hope, confident that they too, like their neighbors, will rise above the squalor and despair. 

Everyone recognizes the important role that the pastoral experiment of San Miguelito, initiated four years ago, has played in the district’s development. On March 1, 1963, three priests from the Archdiocese of Chicago began an ambitious project there: to create a model parish. (Since then, other priests and some Maryknoll sisters have joined the team.) It was to he a model for other pastoral projects undertaken by North Americans, as well as for projects of the native clergy eager to bring about a renovation. But most of all, it was to be a parish concerned with the search for a spirit of community. 

Among these people torn by divisions and weakened by insecurity, the missioners from Chicago tried to create ecclesiólae (diminutive parishes) at the level of the barrio, with the features and life of an authentic family. Their goal and their dream was to form a Family of God. To do this, they began by submerging themselves in the very heart of their people, where they sought to “free the Word of God,” chained within each man by a thousand circumstances from without and problems from within. The Word of God proclaimed, celebrated and lived from house to house, from barrio to barrio, never for individuals, always for groups—such has been this community’s principal and perhaps only resource. 

The Christian community of San Miguelito, presently made up of 3,000 to 4,000 adults, is one of the most significant phenomena in the whole sweep of pastoral renovation in Latin America. For this reason it has become a mecca for visitors. Pastors (both Catholic and Protestant), theologians, sociologists—even nonbelievers who have a hunch that something exceptional is going on—come unceasingly to see San Miguelito. 

Here we shall concern ourselves with the most significant aspect of this experience: the apostolic movement of the laymen. We shall see how it has developed and what the process has been by which simple workers, lacking any kind of formation, have become true “existential priests” within their community. 

The first step: to de-feminize the Church 

The missioners could see that in Panama, at least, Catholicism was a religion of women and children. (Later they found that this was true in all of Latin America.) Without involving themselves in elaborate theories, they immediately focused their work on the men. They set out to de-feminize the image of the Church, or more exactly, to masculinize it—certainly an unusual move in Latin America. 

A great number of the men already belonged to civic committees fighting to make the legitimate demands of their district known to the government. There were at least 15 of these combative groups. Many of them were looking out for their own particular interests; all of them were sadly disunited. Little by little, the missioners succeeded in integrating them into a single union, the Christian Men of San Miguelito. This new grouping gave greater efficacy to their civic demands; they were able to obtain, for example, more schools for the district. But they lacked sufficient motivation to remain united, since the union was merely the product of outside circumstances. As a result, the association rapidly dissolved. 

The missioners then realized that organization was impossible without some previous formation. So they undertook another, more systematic approach: they began to promote discussion groups among the men. These were held first in the parish house, then in homes in every barrio. Here priests and laymen examined together the community’s problems in the light of the Word of God. Immediately, the frank way the priests spoke caught on among the men: they had not known priests like that before. Two or three months of intensive activity began to awaken a community consciousness in a certain number of the parishioners. 

In this atmosphere of growing awareness, or “conscientization,” the first parish mission took place. It was quite unlike the traditional Latin American mission. For one thing, it was not an indiscriminate movement of the masses, but instead a living proclamation of the Word of God for those who had already had some contact with it in the discussion groups; no more than 700 attended the mission. Secondly, the mission preacher was a layman—a Puerto Rican who had worked for many years in evangelization, first in his own country and then among groups of Latin Americans in Chicago. The excellence of this lay missioner was a revelation for the parishioners of San Miguelito. Many of them said, like St. Augustine: “If he can do it, why can’t I?” Others, principally young men, asked the missioners whether they too could ever preach like Jesús Rodriguez. This man, simple and fiery, married and the father of four, became for them a sign and a call. His example awakened the first apostolic vocations among his hearers. 

The mission made it possible to bring together 25 enthusiastic men especially impressed by the example of the lay preacher. For them, an intensive course on Christianity was initiated: it consisted of five evening discussions weekly for about three months. These 25 were the first lay apostles of San Miguelito. 

The second step: to Christianize the family 

During the first seven months of the San Miguelito experience, the missioners gave their attention to the men alone. Slowly, however, they began to recognize the need for a change of course. It was unrealistic and dangerously unsettling, they saw, to evangelize men outside their natural environment, the family. Moreover, it was soon evident that the absence of a Christian sense of the family was at the heart of San Miguelito’s problem. The first to point out this fact were not so much the missioners as the laymen themselves, who in the process of developing “consciencization” were acquiring a keen awareness of their own problems. 

In this way, what are now known as “courses of the Family of God” came into existence—series of informal meetings designed to impart to husbands and wives a sense of Christian living. Before beginning a course in one of the barrios, the priests and lay leaders visited each of the families there a number of times, inviting them to participate in a “discussion of parish problems.” The people soon became accustomed to seeing a group of two, three or four priests and laymen passing through the streets, visiting homes. They were impressed by the style of the priests, who went about dressed simply in black trousers and white shirt—obliging, gay, attentive to all that was happening in the neighborhood. 

The courses of the Family of God were held wherever possible: in playgrounds, on porches, simply and without any external apparatus. Twelve or fifteen of the previously invited couples met at 8 P. M., after work. All these people were workers: day laborers, bus drivers, maids, construction workers, laundrymen, etc. The discussion leader had no special chair or table: whether priest or layman, he took a seat knee to knee with the others, and after achieving a friendly atmosphere, began the discussion with a series of questions. The questions were drawn from the people’s own experience and thus involved everyone in the give and take. Yet the discussion followed a definite plan, a “catechism” compiled by the missioners, sisters and laymen of the Christian community of Latin Americans in Chicago. 

In the past four years, these courses of the Family of God have undergone important modifications, as they were adapted to the needs of San Miguelito. Today the people come with full confidence, knowing that in the spontaneous, intimate dialogue everyone is free to contribute his opinions, demands and personal experiences. 

The power of “consciencization” that this family-style dialogue possesses is extraordinary. (Here the word “consciencization” is used in the sense in which Teilhard de Chardin and the Brazilian philosopher Paul Freire use it.) The participants discover themselves, their values, their faults, their human potential. Little by little they are able to commit themselves to the Word of God, which they discover living and present in themselves and in the heart of the community. The course of the Family of God is not a monologue of a preacher before a small group of silently listening hearers, but the conversation of a family. It is not a course of instructions, but a process preparing the participants to make a Christian commitment, which in San Miguelito can be expressed in a phrase characteristic of Teilhard: “to be more, to be more united.” The promise of union in Christ in order to be “more” is the end result of these meetings, which continue for three or four months. 

Innumerable groups of this sort have been formed by now in San Miguelito. Thanks to these courses, hundreds are subjects, not just objects, of an authentic evangelization.

For the leaders: ‘cursillos’ of initiation 

Each course of the Family of God is usually followed by a “cursillo of initiation.” Thirty, forty or fifty of the participants of the different courses in the sectors meet in the Pastoral Institute of the parish from Friday evening to Sunday evening. The aim of this cursillo is to further heighten the conscientization awakened in the cursillistas and bring them to an explicit and solemn commitment to live united in the name of the Lord. 

The cursillo is made up of two alternating elements: a series of conferences, given for the most part by lay leaders, in which the Christian ideal is presented in all its dimensions; and, between conferences, intense periods of small group discussions. The weekend is marked by an atmosphere of true friendship and genuine joy, which is without doubt one of the principal means to help the cursillistas see the Church as a real family. It also helps them make a personal commitment to Christ and to the community, the “Christ community.” The value of their commitment is rooted exactly here: instead of being directed to a past, historical Christ or to an abstract Lord, it is focused on the risen Christ present and active in the community.

Here we see what is meant by “conversion.” Even at the conclusion of the course of the Family of God, the par-ticipants had in some sense experienced a conversion. But now, with the end of the cursillo, they go through a true Exodus, very similar to that of the People of Israel. Leaving aside themselves, their egoism, their isolated struggle and desperation, they come forth from the cursillo united with one another in a true covenant with the Lord of the People, that is, with the People itself—the only real manifestation of the risen Christ. 

One of the most moving signs of this Exodus is the testimonies the cursillistas give at the celebration of the Eucharist, on Sunday evening at the close of the cursillo. After the reading of the Gospel and usually in place of the homily, men and women who have never before spoken in public stand up freely in front of the assembly and speak of their personal experience. What they say varies, but all agree with the apostles: “We have seen the Lord.”

The cursillo is prolonged in the activities of the community. In addition, every month the cursillistas meet for a general “Ultreya,” or liturgical celebration centered around the Eucharist. Each time, they are encouraged to have something special: a collective baptism, confirmations, the marriages of various couples. Everyone participates in these acts as an event in his own life, and in this way is able to renew and deepen his sense of community. 

A committed few: the ‘hermanos’ 

Even after the first cursillos, preached by the lay leader Jesús Rodriguez, some of the men began to feel a desire to become preachers of the Word. Soon many of them were directing courses of the Family of God. But to give a further outlet to this desire, a course for “professors” of cursillos was begun; not long afterward, cursillos were being preached in San Miguelito exclusively by lay leaders. Later, there was a demand to select the best of even this group of professors; from this selection emerged the “hermanos.” 

The missioners, together with the lay leaders, went over the list of the outstanding cursillistas and chose a group of men that was to have great importance for the development of the Christian life of the community. The group numbered 75, and Fr. Leo Mahon, inspirer and leader of the San Miguelito experiment, urged them to take a week for thought and discussion of their obligations: the example they were giving with their lives, their part in the formation and organization of the community, their duty to better advertise and extend the courses of the Family of God. 

The following week, 60 men committed themselves—young husbands, natural leaders, men of enthusiasm. All were possessed with an irresistible desire to make San Miguelito a “light people”—a visible sign of the living, confessing Church. 

Thus the most closely knit and active group of lay apostles in Latin America swung into action. These apostles—there are now 105 of them—have launched the most promising of revolutions in Latin America: a revolution that revolves, spiraling toward a union with the Center of the Centers: Christ. 

One week, the leaders of the barrios meet in their own neighborhood, where they review the practical steps that have been taken and make plans for the future. The next week, they all gather at the Pastoral Institute for a discussion directed by one of the missioners, usually Fr. Mahon, in which they deepen their understanding of the Scriptures, always by means of dialogue. 

Parallel with the group of hermanos is a small group of their wives, directed by the Maryknoll sisters. Some of these women are professors of cursillos and give conferences in the women’s cursillos; others are cursillo “auxiliaries.” But the majority, principally the school teachers, are responsible for catechizing children in the public schools or in their different neighborhoods. 

The crucial role of CFM 

Leadership has developed best in San Miguelito on the basis of married couples: in place of men leaders and women leaders, there are now leader couples. These are the fruit of the Christian Family Movement. 

In Panama today, the CFM is extremely popular and effective. Unfortunately, however, although it has had exceptional success among the middle and upper classes, it has never, either here or in any other Latin American country, been successful among the poor. Fr. Mahon’s explanation of this phenomenon seems plausible. The CFM, he says, develops fundamentally on the basis of dialogue. But dialogue supposes a certain level of human formation, and this the poor classes—and often other classes too—do not have. 

In this, then, San Miguelito has made a contribution of great value. For even though largely uneducated, the people of the parish have become quite expert at dialogue. CFM, in particular, appeals to them. They discuss the Word of God without any sense of inferiority, and with complete naturalness and ease, not only in their neighborhood CFM meetings, but in regional CFM meetings in Panama City and in other social gatherings as well. Thus the parishioners of San Miguelito have brought to CFM both an infusion of new insights into the Church’s potential and a new approach to the very poor. 

In addition, as was noted above, CFM marked another step in the consolidation of the Christian community of San Miguelito. No longer is evangelization the work of individual leaders; it is now entrusted to leader couples. Many couples have been made formally responsible for the evangelization of this or that neighborhood. 

What is more, in their capacity as lay leaders some couples have begun to play an active role in the immediate government of the parish. Here is how it happened. Two months ago, the parish team—made up now of six priests, four sisters and two laymen working full time—felt the need to decentralize. Each of the priests, instead of living in the common parish house as before, has assumed responsibility for one of the five sections into which the parish is divided, and will live there. Fr. Mahon, who continues to he responsible for the central section, has set up a Parish Council with representatives from the different sectors. All these representatives—and this is the significant feature—are leader couples, chosen not by the team of priests, sisters and laymen, but by the community. 

From now on, each of the five sub-parishes of San Miguelito will similarly be administered and governed not by the clergy alone, but also by leader couples who have a voice and a vote. This is the latest step and the last sign of growth of the dynamic Christian community of San Miguelito. 

The next step: lay deacons 

The next advance in the evolution of this community will no doubt be the creation of lay deacons. There is no contradiction in juxtaposing the words “lay” and “deacon” if we understand that the cleric is, historically and juridically, nothing more than an “official” of the ecclesiastical institution—something like the employee of a government agency. And since both that which is institutionally established and that which is freely charismatic exist with equal right in the Church, as Rahner says, there is no reason why there cannot be clerics who are neither priests nor deacons, and deacons who are not clerics. Diakonia, or service, connotes a relationship with the ecclesial community, but not necessarily with the institution, which is nothing more than the external aspect of the ecclesial community. This is why “lay deacons” can be spoken of as the next step—ascensional and convergent—in the community of San Miguelito. 

The deacons will be chosen from the Present group of hermanos. Since all these are married, the future deacons of San Miguelito will be married. After ordination, their function in the service of the community would flow from a potestas ordinis. But clearly that power would come only secondarily, as a confirmation. Even before receiving orders, many of the hermanos are already existential deacons. The “power” that the hierarchy could later graciously concede them would be the ratification of something already existent, not the creation of a new reality. 

In fact, a few months ago in San Miguelito the necessary steps were taken to ordain the first lay deacon, Fidel Gonzalez, an exceptional leader who has participated in the formation of the community from the beginning and is presently coordinator of the lay directors. A request for his ordination has been submitted to the Archbishop of Panama. It is to be hoped that very soon Fidel Gonzalez, who is the father of three and whose wife is herself a lay leader, will be the first ordained deacon. 

The originality of San Miguelito’s experiment is its pragmatic development: it was born not of previously elaborated theories but of action. Obviously, the missioners did not begin without any presuppositions at all. They began with the idea, for example, that the Church is a community begotten by the Word of God and must manifest itself as a community. But to implement that idea, the missioners realized that they had to know the reality of their environment. Hence, before setting themselves up as teachers, they became disciples. They learned from these simple and humble people how they were to teach—if in the realm of the apostolate one can use the verb that Paul Freire rejects in his own realm of education. The techniques and modes of action they picked up along the way came out of this prior step. What is curious is that, following their own pastoral, non-academic methods, they reached the same conclusions as the great theologians of the present. 

The missioners did not begin teaching, for example, the doctrine of the priesthood of the faithful. This would have made little sense to a people so religiously ignorant. Starting instead from the roots of the people, they stirred their sense of human solidarity. “We must unite ourselves,” they said at first. Later, their more daring challenge, “We must become Panama’s best community”—invoking the concept that the Hebrews expressed with their word am (laos)—awoke a profound sense of responsibility in the people of San Miguelito. In such a spirit was the Christian message planted. 

Thus men with leadership abilities appeared, men whom the community immediately recognized as its true guides. Feeling an urgent desire to do something for their people, many exerted energies they never knew they possessed, energies hitherto misdirected or simply dormant. A gesture of acknowledgement from a neighbor, a word of esteem from one of the missioners, and most important, the progressive realization of the Christian message, have launched dozens of men on the road to leadership. Of exceptional importance for each of the leaders has been the support their families have given them. The backing a man receives from his wife, her goodness, her sharing of the same ideals—these are his greatest stimulus. 

Here, again, the lay leaders have not been products of a theory. There has never been a lecture on the psychology of the leader or a course in leadership training. These leaders have arisen as an expression of the community, in a real dialectic of pastoral action. 

Without lay leaders, no community 

The experience of San Miguelito shows there is a close correlation between the existence of a lay leader and the existence of a community. Thus, when a barrio is still unevangelized—and many of them still are—this is so, not because the missioners have stopped working in those barrios, but because, despite all their efforts, no true lay leader has arisen. As long as there is no lay leader, the work of evangelization continues to be tangential, external, directed from outside. On the other hand, once a lay leader arises, things begin to happen. It is as if the barrio, until now a “force without a center” (to use a Teilhardian phrase), finds a center of convergence and activation. The birth of a lay leader is sufficient to bring about the birth of a community, and as the community comes to life it is no longer difficult to awaken many other apostles. There is no Christian life without community, and no community without lay leaders. The priest, of course, is the initial inspirer and polarizer of this process—but he is hardly more than that. 

In Latin America there is no need for more priests; we could do with less. This conclusion may scandalize those who lament the scarcity of priests in Latin America, but it is a correct one. Lay apostles and married deacons should be multiplied by the hundreds. What is needed is fewer, but better—incomparably better—priests, men of exceptional vision and zeal: men who are true existential bishops—not in the incomplete and, to a certain extent, anti-evangelical sense of officials who see to it that the regulations of canon law are fulfilled, but bishops in the vital sense of inspirers, “conscience-makers,” prophets of the chosen people. 

The shortage of priests will continue—and will increase. Yet there is no reason to doubt that, among those who remain, a few will arise who are authentically priests: great men and great Christians who are capable of turning loose powerful lay movements similar or superior to that of San Miguelito. In such a case, we would rejoice in the scarcity of priests, because that would permit us (once the episcopacy is renewed) to reopen the discussion of “priest” and “priesthood” in all its di-mensions and to purify the concept that now prevails in Latin America. 

There is yet another point of origi-nality in the lay movement of San Miguelito. Instead of beginning with a series of “Catholic actions”—which, as the Abbé Michonneau has said, are nothing more than apostolic bait, and, we might add, a distraction from the main work of advancing the Kingdom—the priests and lay apostles of San Miguelito concentrated on the service of the Word. Before giving things, they had to create persons; for, as Kierkegaard said, becoming a Christian is nothing other than becoming a man. If the missioners had started constructing Catholic schools, asylums, workshops, etc., they would have merely repeated the sin of those nations that try to alleviate the needs of underdeveloped countries by sending food and clothing—only to delay the development of these peoples themselves. 

What is needed is to contribute to the formation of men as such. When people are formed, we discover that what the “merciful” are trying to do has already been done. Today a community exists in San Miguelito that can and must take care of itself. Many of its members, principally the lay leaders, have organized or are organizing co-operatives, shops, professional schools. Here we find a real illustration of the Gospel text: “Seek first the kingdom of God and his justice, and all else will be supplied.”

FRANCISCO BRAVO is an Ecuadorian priest, author of several books on theology and of a sociological study, The Parish of San Miguelito (446p., $15, CIDOC, Apdo. 479, Cuernavaca, Mexico).

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The spread of baptism in the Spirit

This September 1971 description of the charismatic renewal comes from The Full Gospel Business Men’s Voice. The Full Gospel Business Men’s Fellowship International (FGBMFI) was founded by Demos Shakarian (1913–1993), a third-generation Pentecostal. In fact, his grandfather had been involved in the Azusa Street Revival, which some call the birthplace of the worldwide pentecostal movement. The FGBMFI, which began in the 1950s, was designed to lead businessmen to Jesus Christ and the baptism in the Holy Spirit. It was an ecumenical fellowship, and Demos continually called members to stay in their own congregations and influence their churches with the power of the Spirit. In South Bend, Ray Bullard, a member of the local FGBMFI, taught us a great deal about the spiritual gifts—meeting with Kevin and Dorothy and others only eight days after they had first prayed to be baptized in the Holy Spirit. It should be noted that the Duquesne Weekend was in 1967 (not 1966).

“Gentle Revolution: The Catholic Pentecostal Movement in Retrospect,” Full Gospel Business Men’s Voice, September 1971, pp. 3–8.

“In the last days I will pour out of [sic] my spirit upon all flesh. . . ”

Today—now—our generation is privileged to see the fulfillment of this promise as recorded in Joel 2:28. 

In the turn of the century the Pentecostals felt that this outpouring of the Spirit of God belonged to them. Then in the mid-fifties others began to lay hold on the promise: the Presbyterians, Methodists, Baptists, Episcopalians, Lutherans. Like a sweeping flame the “Charismatic Renewal” found its way into the historic churches, for God had said “upon all flesh.” 

In the light of Scripture, therefore, one should not have been surprised when, in the spring of 1966 a flame was kindled at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, Pa. and the baptism in the Holy Spirit began to sweep campus after campus of the Catholic universities, and to involve the priests, nuns and laymen of that faith.

The Day of Pentecost was to all the world the birthday of the Church. From time to time the Church has drifted away from the great basic truths, placing increasing emphasis upon human knowledge in the belief that it was no longer necessary to seek the power of the Holy Spirit. But always man’s own efforts have failed, and today, once again man has been, from the realization of his own failures, driven back to the Source of all power. 

In 1906, in response to the active faith of seekers across the United States and in many other countries, the Holy Spirit was poured out. A “Pentecost of years” later it leaped national and denominational boundaries, until finally the great Holy Spirit Renewal in the Catholic Church in America took not only the religious press, but also the secular press by storm.

VOICE has carried the Duquesne story that spread to the campus of Notre Dame, St. Mary’s, Michigan State, Iowa State, into Catholic communities in Ohio—on and on across the nation and into Canada, South America and Africa, until today it is estimated there are more than 300 active Catholic prayer groups, and Spirit-filled Roman Catholics are numbered in the thousands.

Kevin and Dorothy Ranaghan, who were in the vanguard of the movement that caught fire at Notre Dame, wrote in their book Catholic Pentecostals  (Paulist Press): “On every side we see signs of the people of God striving to renew themselves in Christ . . . and to show forth Christ effectively in the modern world. Our Church is changing; it is growing, and the growing pains are felt by all of us. . . . For us it began stirring around 1966; yet in a very real sense it is as old as Christianity, rooted in its foundation . . . It has been called the ‘Pentecostal movement.’ It is essentially a movement of faith and prayer; faith in Jesus Christ and confident prayer that He will fulfill in us and through us His plan for the world.”

The National Catholic Reporter remarked that it would be most convenient to explain away these Catholic Pentecostals as being “underfed, high-strung, groping intellectual misfits . . . but it would be quite untrue. There seems to be no one level of conformity in this group except a common experience.”

By 1967 the movement had become so recognized that the news media began to report and editorialize. Many remarked on the fact that among the leaders of the spiritual renewal movement were professors, upperclassmen, lettered graduate students, many religious, and that the prayer groups across the world have been and are continuing to be founded upon a basis of priests, nuns, religious, and deeply dedicated laymen. This is not a “flash in the pan” or an emotional outbreak that is of passing interest. On the contrary it has grown—blossomed into an annual seminar and rally which has drawn men and women from practically every state, from Canada, and from other countries. It has resulted in many university graduates dedicating their lives to the service of the Lord and the establishment of many ministries that have continued and grown and spread miraculously. The Newsletter now published by the Ann Arbor community has subscribers in 45 states and 18 countries.

The first local community organized the first national convention of Pentecostal Catholics in South Bend in 1969 and more than 500 attended, of whom about 30 were priests. In 1970, the increase was still more spectacular, with a total registration of 1,279.

An all-day rally in South Bend on April 10 of this year, sponsored by the local chapter of FGBMFI and attended by International President and Mrs. Demos Shakarian and Dr. Raymond Becker, Editor of VOICE, served to point up the fact that the movement continues to grow by leaps and bounds.

In the New York Times of November 3, 1970 Edward E. Fiske estimated upwards of 50,000 Catholics involved in the movement, and added: “Pentecostal churches, which think of themselves variously as Protestant or a separate branch of Christianity, now enroll an estimated 10 million persons, including 2 million in this country, and constitute the fastest-growing Christian churches in Africa and Latin America.” In fact the six-day congress in Dallas in 1970 drew several thousand Pentecostals from fifty nations. “Pentecostalism that has generally been identified with Protestant Christianity is rapidly becoming an important new force among Roman Catholics,” wrote Fiske. “Catholics of all ages and from all walks of life have begun holding regular mid-week prayer services ranging from intimate gatherings of a dozen persons in a Brooklyn apartment to weekly events at the University of Michigan that draw 400 to 500 persons. . . .”

Every Thursday night, for example, hundreds gather in New Orleans, La. at Loyola University’s Danna Center for a time of praise, prayer, sharing and ministering. Although it is primarily a Catholic prayer group, the Protestant denominational and Pentecostal churches are represented as well. Following the start of the first Roman Catholic charismatic prayer group at Duquesne University, the movement spread and reached New Orleans in April of 1969 through the ministry of Rev. Harold Cohen, University chaplain at Loyola who had attended the first National Catholic Pentecostal Conference at Notre Dame. Similar prayer groups have since sprung up in Baton Rouge, Lafayette and smaller southern towns. Fr. Cohen believes that this is God’s way of renewing the Church, and that the movement is destined to spread through Christian churches around the world.

The story can’t begin to be told in the space we have—nor can it be told entirely up to date because things are occurring so rapidly it would require a daily newspaper to keep abreast of them.

God is truly pouring out of [sic] His Spirit upon all flesh and upon all denominations and on all continents. In fact, the conversion rate in the Pentecostal movement, in Latin America and Italy specifically, has surpassed the population growth rate, making it the fastest growing movement within the Christian tradition. Even from behind the Iron Curtain where Spirit-filled Christians are most feared and oppressed, the movement is spreading.
Truly, as Kevin Ranaghan has said, “The layman is on the move. Yes, thank God, after centuries of watching the Church, he has realized that he is the Church. So he is taking upon his own shoulders tremendous responsibilities in terms of the governance, fiscal management, educational and the apostolate of the Church. He sees himself sharing an equally important, if different, function than the hierarchy.”

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