Jesus always used stories and illustrations . . . In fact, he never spoke to them without using parables. Matthew 13: 34
Way back in 1885 the Catholic bishops of the United States meeting in Baltimore decided to publish a catechism (a collection of questions and answers) to explain the teachings of the Catholic Church. It was the right time to do so, because Irish and German Catholic immigrants had already begotten new generations of their own kin while other nationalities of Catholic background were beginning to pour into Manhattan by the multi-thousands per year.
So the bishops had a swelling population to retain by the construction of a huge parochial school system using this Baltimore Catechism. So huge was the system that under the long reign of Cardinal Dougherty (died in 1951 at age 86), Catholics in Philadelphia were eventually identifying themselves by their parish or parochial school (like: “I’m from St. Matthew’s. Where are you from?” “Holy Child.”) instead of by their neighborhood.
I remember well the Baltimore Catechism as no doubt millions of other older folk do. I remember each week being lined up before the blackboard at St. Ludwig’s to give the correct (memorized) answer to the catechism’s questions: Who made the world? God made the world . . . What is man? Man is a creature composed of body and soul, and made in the image and likeness of God . . . What is the Blessed Trinity? . . . Is original sin the only kind of sin? . . . (and as the answers began to be more difficult!) What do you mean by the Incarnation? . . . What is a Plenary Indulgence?
You know I now recall with amazement that these catechism bees began to be administered to us children when we were third graders! Of course, many of the answers stuck by rote, mechanically – taking advantage of our fresh childhood memories. I can still recite some answers. Anyway, as a comprehensive display of Catholic doctrine, it shaped the faith of several generations and also guaranteed that someday Sean O’Rourke would be marrying Mary Del Borrello or Henrietta Stefanowicz.
But something was missing. Recall how last Sunday’s Gospel reading starts off with a question and answer routine? The scribe asks Jesus, Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life? And Jesus follows that up by asking the scribe: What is written in the Law? How do you read it? The scribe then recites the answer given in the Bible: Love the Lord your God with all your heart . . . and your neighbor as yourself. But, stuck in the interrogative mode, he then asks: And who is my neighbor?
And here Jesus switches to a better educational approach: he tells a story. That is what was missing in the educational mode of the scribes and of the Baltimore Catechism – the invitation of the student to step into an episode that would not just leave him with a correct answer but with a changed life. He tells the story of the Good Samaritan that draws out our imagination, touches our feelings, shakes us up, challenges us to BE a neighbor in ways more shocking than we are used to. It leaves us experiencing theology and not just talking about it. It takes us out of the classroom and into the wide screen of the theater (which is what the whole Bible is) where, as the curtain is drawn back, we take in so much more and are taken in as well. That theater is always open, offering experiences, not just information.