Catholics online. How we’ve become just like the scene at the Last Supper.
In this blog post, we’ll explore two contrasting cultures presented in the Gospel, the love of winning arguments (philonikia) and the pursuit of hospitality (philoxenia).
Imagine you’re one of the twelve apostles, gathered with Jesus for that solemn final dinner before his crucifixion. What urgent questions would you whisper to him? And just as importantly, what would your conversations with those around you reveal about just how much you actually understood from his teachings.
It’s a stark scene in Luke’s Gospel, where the author uses the word “philonikia” (fee-low-knee-KEE-uh), the Greek word for a love of winning arguments to describe the conversation taking place amongst the apostles.
Right in front of Jesus, they were arguing about which one of the apostles was the greatest! Let’s imagine this was done in different words though. Perhaps the apostles were chattering at dinner about who had served more, who had listened to more of Jesus’ sermons, or even who was the most likely to convert mass followers. Do we see this anywhere today in Catholic circles on TikTok, other social media, or even arguing with Protestant friends at work? I’m sure we could agree that just about all of the apostles shared a common loyalty and devotion for their teacher. However, even amidst great piety, there was a powerful ambition simmering beneath the surface. Even in a moment as sacred as the Last Supper.
At Theology for the Unwanted, my posts try to stress the new theological landscape: a culture that is increasingly online and isolated rather than face-to-face. You don’t have to spend too much time online before the spirit of philonikia takes over your timeline. Before judging it, we have to take a moment to see the great devotion present in the profiles of those who truly want to see everyone united in a common Christian home.
However, being right does not build virtue.
Theologian and Czech Catholic priest, Fr. Tomas Halik, offers an honest critique of Catholic apologetics and those whom we try to convince. In his book, The Afternoon of Christianity: The Courage to Change, he outlines the many pendulum swings where the Church has gone from strict to lax, a source of ideas to a community organizer, and how we have put ourselves into ideological boxes. Most notably, how in the past few centuries we have seen ourselves as a form of combating liberalism or Protestantism. Every hero needs a villain, right?
In a world where the theological landscape is defined by strife, all virtues must be understood for their relational abilities. Or, more simply: how do we become more warm and pleasant while simultaneously inviting people into a relationship with Christ? It probably isn’t by drawing harsh redlines (e.g., only welcoming people who are fully compliant with Catholic rules to be full and active participating members in your parish).
More importantly, we have to get out from behind our screens and build a community that is in person. If we are alive and human, then we must recognize that God created us to be in relationship with others and that means being present in person.
On the other hand, the New Testament presents us with a remedy for the addicting love of strife: “philoxenia” (fi-lo-KSEE-nee-uh). The love of stranger. Sometimes its also translated to mean the love of hospitality. Growing up, our teachers in Catholic school always told us to be counter-cultural and this is exactly how Saint Paul defines it when he tells Christians to “contribute to the needs of the holy ones” (Romans 12:13).
Remember that Saint Paul did not live in a democracy. He lived in a society that was rigidly structured, where status and hierarchy were very important. But this is not the way of the Gospel. He was telling Christians to pursue hospitality, regardless of whether the person knocking at the door was a peasant or a government official. The very idea of gathering around for the Eucharist quite literally built communion.
Christ died for all; therefore, Jesus desired for each of us to be with the Father in heaven. So who are we to draw redlines and say who is in the club and who is to be excluded? Saint Paul describes this as a moral obligation, even when it draws us out of our comfort zones.
Recently, someone stopped by my home parish saying that he wanted to learn more about the Catholic faith. Initially, a well-meaning parishioner replied enthusiastically, “Great, what are your questions about Catholics.” I could see a somewhat overwhelmed look on the face of the man who maybe was looking for something a bit more casual. Perhaps because of the heightened tension between Protestants and Catholics in English-speaking countries, our best Catholics tend to be very well versed in explaining and defending the faith.
I asked if it was possible to take him on a very brief tour of the art and the relics of the saints in our sanctuary. That piqued his interest. On the way upstairs, he had an opportunity to tell me more about his own background and what made him interested in asking about our faith. It started a dialogue, and by the time we had finished the tour, he was visibly more relaxed about his decision to stop by the church.
We must remember that for those who lived during the time of Jesus, there were no textbooks to tell us how to reply to questions and objections about the Christian faith. Jesus Christ himself was an “encounter.” And so we too have to try to foster this type of encounter with those who stop by our parishes wondering what it is that Catholics actually believe. An argument may win the war, but it will not provide the type of encounter that the Eucharist is seeking to foster.
Our words online should reflect this, and even more so, our presence in the parish and in our communities.
