A Touching Sense of Tact

I always enjoy coming back to the parish after time away. Whether it’s for a weekend retreat, a month of break, or six weeks in the desert, the result is always the same: parishioners turn out in droves to welcome me home!  What a heartwarming feeling.

A few different groups always make up the welcoming flock.

The first group is the grandmas, who greet me with kisses on the cheeks (the typical Italian greeting) and a sigh of relief. They usually claim that they didn’t know what happened to me, or if I would ever return!  And they often tell me they are happy that I am back in one piece. This same routine takes place even if I announce, weeks in advance, and for weeks on end, my upcoming travel plans.

Then there are the youth. They, too, are excited to see me (although adolescents are loath to admit it).  I think though, that it is probably because I bring candy and sweets from wherever I’ve been or had a layover.

A Special Group

But there is one group, a select group of adults, that I am always very glad to see.  These are the adults who come to Mass infrequently. The grew up Catholic, like most of the people in town. They received their sacraments, and perhaps were even married in the Church.  However, many of them have wandered away, either because of work or laziness.  They only come to Mass every so often.

A number  of these adults attend Mass more frequently now because their children are preparing for sacraments.  Even so, that first encounter after a journey away is always something special.  A person or a couple will come up, greet me affectionately, and I’ll say to them, “Wow! I haven’t seen you in a while!”

My statement is usually met with an embarrassed stare, and a struggle for words, since they have not attended Mass for weeks or months. After a few agonizing seconds, before they can come up with an excuse (or a lie), I give them their escape.  “Ha! It’s because I’ve been away!” A look of relief immediately comes over their faces, and they laugh.  However, I have made my point, gently, and without offense.  But the point is made, nonetheless.

Prudence or Tact?

What is the virtue or characteristic that governs such interactions with the people we see or deal with frequently? What is it that allows us to preach “the truth in charity.”  How do we discern that difficult balance that must be discerned between the fullness of the truth that is to be preached and what a person can receive fruitfully?

Philosophers and theologians would probably chalk it up to the virtue of prudence. The word comes from the Latin prudentia.  It means “a foreseeing, foresight, sagacity, practical judgment.” And there is certainly something to be said for prudence.

However, given the society we live in, with the emphasis on feelings and emotions, perhaps a better word would be tact. Tact comes from the Latin tactus, meaning touch. Later, tact came “to be used figuratively to refer to any perception that is like touch in its sensitivity.” From here arose the modern understanding of tact: “a keen sense of what to do or say in order to maintain good relations with others or avoid offense.” To preach the truth in charity, we need a sense of tact.  We have to be sensitive to what others will perceive.

The St. Paul Method

I don’t believe this is anything radical or new. Rather, it seems that tact was the model of Saint Paul. In 1 Corinthians 3:1-3 Paul writes,  “Brothers, I could not talk to you as spiritual people, but as fleshly people, as infants in Christ. I fed you milk, not solid food, because you were unable to take it. Indeed, you are still not able, even now.”

Notice what Paul did not do. He didn’t give them poison in the form of fake or false doctrines, because that would have been counterproductive and noxious. Neither did he give them sugar-coated teachings filled with marshmallow fluff and artificial sweeteners.  These would have been sweet and pleasant, but just for a while (as anyone who has consumed an excessive number of Peeps can attest).   But this would not have provided them with any real content that provides for growth. Nor did Paul give them apricot schnapps!  Schnapps might seem exhilaratingly liberating, but it can produce a delirium of confusion and clouds the way to walk.

Rather, Paul gave them milk: something substantial, allowing for growth, but also adjusted to their infant-like state. Milk is perfect for infants.  It’s what they need to grow.  Indeed, it’s only by receiving nutrition through milk that infants can grow to reach the point where they can eat solid food.

I imagine that it would’ve been much easier for Paul to simply give them solid food and let them deal with it.  Just think how much easier it would be for parents if newborns could  start with solid food, feeding themselves! However, that’s not the way life is. Things start small, and then grow.

Infants in Adult Bodies

Today, we reside in a world where people are often bound to their feelings.  We live among emotional infants trapped in adult bodies. One hopes that adults might be able to reason through difficult situations, but people tend not to think much for themselves.  After all, there is Google for answering questions, Facebook for social happenings, and Twitter and Instagram for the news.   But everything is cut into little bit-sized pieces. What takes center stage is not rational arguments, or appeals to tradition, but rather emotional states.  So tact is needed.

My point is not that we need to change the truth, nor sugar-coat it and empty it of all content, nor make it a stupefying confusion. We need to give milk, not poison, or Peeps, or schnapps.  Rather, we need to preach the truth in charity and from charity.   And knowing what often determines the need for milk as opposed to solid food isn’t intellectual ability, but rather emotional receptiveness.

In this, we have an excellent guide in the life and teachings of Saint John Bosco, the founder of the Salesian order.

St. John Bosco

The children Bosco worked with were not model students, at least not to begin with. Many of them came from the streets and were prone to fighting, lying, swearing, and stealing. Yet, Bosco had the uncanny ability to turn them around.  Bosco realized that if he made himself loved, he would gain the confidence and respect of these rough ones. In turn, since the children saw Bosco as a loving father, they would obey and do whatever he asked.

The method by which Bosco gained the affection of his students was very simple. It is perhaps best recounted by Bosco himself, in reporting one of his famous dreams. In his dream an alumnus of the Oratory, Valfre, takes Bosco to see the Oratory in the past and then at present.

While showing Bosco the Oratory in the past, Valfre notes that the Salesian priests and brothers are playing and joking around with the boys.  Valfre says:

As you can see familiarity breeds affection and affection breeds confidence. This is what opens hearts; the boys can open up without fear to their teachers, assistants and superiors. They become frank both inside and outside the confessional and in general they show great docility to the commands of those of whose love they are sure.[1]

Lost Familiarity

In showing Bosco the oratory at present (since Bosco had been away from it for several months), Valfre revealed that this familiarity had been lost. Bosco remarked that his Salesians were doing everything possible to help these youth, and that they were pouring out their lives and hearts for them. Still, Valfre insisted that this wasn’t enough.  There was more that was needed: “The boys should not only be loved, but realize that they are loved.”

Bosco defended his Salesians. Couldn’t the boys see all the sacrifices made for them, all the sufferings and works? Valfre rebuffed him, saying, “That’s not enough. . . .  They be loved in the things which they themselves like by a sharing in their youthful interests; in this way they will learn to see your love in matters which naturally speaking are not very pleasing to them, as is the case with study, discipline, and self-denial: in this way they will learn to do these things also with love.”

Valfre continued:

“By a friendly relationship with the boys, especially in recreation. Affection can’t be shown without this friendly relationship, and unless affection is seen there can be no confidence. He who wants to be loved must first show his own love. Our Lord made himself little with the little ones and bore our infirmities. He is our Master in this matter of the friendly approach. A master who is only seen in the master’s chair is just a master and nothing more, but if he goes into recreation with the boys he becomes their brother.”

So, as Valfre says, Jesus must be our Master in this matter of friendly approach.

Truth in Charity and From Charity

Fulton Sheen put it well: “It was the same method Our Blessed Lord used when He met a prostitute at the well. What was there in common between Divine Purity and this woman who had five husbands and was living with a man who was not her husband? The only common denominator was a love of cold water. Starting with that He led to the subject of the waters of everlasting life.”[2]

There is something to be said for tact. It is true that we need to preach the truth, but part of preaching the truth in love is knowing how to show that love. Our preaching of the Gospel is only effective when that love is clear, when it derives, not just from words, but also from actions and shared interests. Otherwise, we end up spending emotional and affective capital that we don’t have, and nothing gets preached at all.

[1] See the stories recounted, for instance, in The Magna Carta of the Salesian Educational System, edited by Rik Biesmans, SDB.

[2] The Quotable Fulton Sheen (New York: DoubleDay, 1989), x. However, the text is from another book of Sheen’s, perhaps Life of Christ.