Call & Response

Second Call: The Good Shepherd — Cheryl

Years ago, I bought two books by Sofia Cavalletti: The Religious Potential of the Child and its sequel aimed for 6- to 12-year-olds. They sat on the shelf, unread, for years. Yesterday, I finished the first book. Of course, by the time I had finished chapter two, I was shaking my head and asking myself, “Why didn’t I read this all those years ago?”

The books are about Catechesis of the Good Shepherd, a Montessori-esque program of religious education. It’s a simple, yet deep, method that respects the child and the child’s longing for a relationship with God. By carefully selecting which Bible passages are used to introduce children to Jesus (mainly the parables), then giving them time to reflect on what they’ve heard, Catechesis of the Good Shepherd teaches them, first and foremost, that Jesus is the Good Shepherd who will never abandon them.

This is just one of the many stories in the book about children’s responses:

Children who are sick or handicapped have a special sensitivity to the parable [of the Good Shepherd] we are speaking about. Maria, two years and ten months old, was being treated in the cancer ward of the Bambino Gesù pediatric hospital in Rome. She came from the south of Italy, so her parents lived far away. One cannot describe the sadness in her small, pale face nor the impossibility of establishing any rapport with her. “She is always on her own,” related the other children, “sometimes she cries and cries but she says nothing.” A catechist went to the hospital with the intention of speaking to Maria about the Good Shepherd’s love, but her endeavors to make contact with the little girl seemed completely in vain. While the catechist presented the parable materials to a small group of children who had gathered around her bed, Maria appeared to be far away, if not actually asleep. However as the catechist read the parable, Maria’s breathing became gradually calmer; when the catechist started to rise slowly from the chair beside her bed, Maria stood up abruptly, threw herself into the catechist’s arms and kissed her. Discarding her doll, she cleared a space on her bed for the materials and indicated in an obvious way that she was waiting for a new presentation of the Good Shepherd. Then she took the parable book herself and suddenly began to say a number of things that unfortunately the catechist, who was a foreigner, could not understand. But communication had been established just the same: Maria wanted to be held in her arms, carried around the room, and fed when the dinner arrived. When it came time for the catechist to leave, Maria refused to let anyone else hold her and let her leave only after she promised to return the next day. The night nurse heard Maria singing softly: “He knows my name.”

In an effort to slowly introduce Catechesis of the Good Shepherd concepts into the lives of my children, I recently changed prayer time. Now, instead of reciting a bunch of prayers (with very little feeling for them) and asking for intercessions, we recite one prayer, which varies from day to day; I read a line or two from a psalm; we observe one minute of silence, in order to reflect; then we ask for intercessions. Yesterday, during our minute of silence, I caught sight of this Hummel figurine and was inspired to photograph it and write today’s post.