My daughter attends a Catholic primary school with a strong spiritual community. Catholic identity this is beyond merely principles of faith. It’s raw. It’s multi-dimensional.

This previous May, she and I enjoyed a night selecting flowers collectively for a school-wide May crowning event. I anticipate it annually due to the ways it unites heaven and earth: The soft fragrance of our grocery store carnation mingles with thankfulness and respect for the Blessed Mother’s divine assistance. In this setting, a $5 flower transforms into an invitation to the enigma of the Incarnation.

More frequently, there is a monthly family Holy Hour where the kids gather in front of the altar with one of the school’s Dominican sisters. Worship music plays softly in the background (this time, for my daughter, performed by Mom), and the children are guided in prayer through the sister’s support and example. Each occasion allows me to glimpse directly into the Gospels and witness Jesus among his cherished children. One can feel that Christ — timeless and continually renewing — operates with the same compassion and strength in our humble part of the world as he did in the pastoral communities of Galilee long ago.

Questions of a child

This raw and creative understanding of the Faith is profoundly Catholic. However, the school is not isolated. As my daughter has navigated and matured in her faith, I’ve observed her starting to draw comparisons between her experiences and those of her peers and relatives, particularly those attending public schools. For her, public schools appear akin to Catholic schools but devoid of religion. Yet, because religion is so integral to her learning, she struggles to grasp what that could entail. If schools can be labeled as “Catholic” or “public,” she frequently inquires the same about individuals: “Is my friend, Mary, Catholic or public?” She even once queried whether the Olive Garden was Catholic or public as we arrived for butter noodles and breadsticks. We, of course, assist her in making the necessary distinctions, but it’s evident she’s trying to comprehend the outline of the world she occupies.

This experience of spiritual development being inextricably linked with an encounter with conflicting beliefs concerning God has become typical for almost all of us.

Though her experience of the Faith is extraordinary, the environment of her belief exists in a world where numerous individuals think, act, and believe differently, especially regarding God and the influence of his transcendence on our everyday lives. Many of the individuals she encounters each day — family, neighbors, friends — hold differing beliefs, often in no God. This leads to a kind of uncertainty that requires clarification, prompting her to inquire about her own beliefs: Why don’t they share my faith? Why don’t they attend Church on Sundays? Why don’t they have faith in God? Why do we? When you pause to consider these questions, the answers aren’t simple, particularly for a child. The surrounding circumstances foster a degree of self-awareness in her faith; it may come off as delicate.

The journey of faith development intertwined with confrontations against competing beliefs about God has become a standard for almost everyone. Your encounter might not appear as untainted as that of a child’s, yet, as we approach our topic, this kind of experience serves as an effective gateway to grasping the meaning of the terms “secular” or “secularity.” This reflects the experience of maintaining faith within a secular era.

A secular age

In our everyday vernacular, “secular” is frequently employed to indicate that something is “non-spiritual” or “not religious.” This is a negative interpretation, however, in media and everyday dialogue, this is its most prevalent application. There are also more positive interpretations of the term. One of the most significant of these is that secular refers to how societies such as ours establish institutions without any religious ties. We possess a secular congress, not a faith-based one. This framework operates on the premise that there are two dimensions of existence in our universe: One is secular, or of this world independently, which encompasses our governments and institutions, and the other is religious, which generally pertains to private convictions regarding God. They do not merge; our secular realm is insulated from the transcendent. When individuals in our society actively strive to promote something akin to this concept, we refer to it as “secularism.”

The term is also employed in another variation, as “secularization.” In this context, it represents a theory. The concept suggests that with advancements in technology and the economy, religious belief will be increasingly reduced until it ceases to hold significant relevance. To put it differently, as society evolves, engagement in religious activities declines. It’s a predictive view of what lies ahead.

These represent significant interpretations of the term we are examining and are frequently present in our societal conversations. However, they do not reflect the definition of the secular that we will be concentrating on. They do not align with what was detailed earlier in my daughter’s experience.

Having faith today

For practicing Catholics, the interpretation of “secular” that I wish to emphasize aids in comprehending my daughter’s (and our own) worldview of belief. Thus, it’s not a matter of supporting or opposing faith, but more about how we hold faith within our situations. This concept originates from a Canadian philosopher by the name of Charles Taylor. In 2007, he released a pioneering piece titled “A Secular Age,” a 900-page volume centered on the meaning of the term “secular” and its evolution. However, due to its significance being paralleled only by its challenging nature for the typical reader to comprehend, a niche market of “A Secular Age” summaries and application guides has developed. The concepts are so crucial that philosophers and theologians are seeking to communicate them to the general public in accessible formats. Think of this article as a primer to these explorations of “A Secular Age.”

“Why was it nearly inconceivable to doubt the existence of God in, let’s say, 1500 within our Western culture, while in 2000 [or 2023?] a significant number of us see this as not just simple, but even unavoidable?”

Taylor embarks on his exploration of the secular with a straightforward yet revealing inquiry: “Why was it nearly impossible to not believe in God around 1500 in our Western culture, whereas in 2000 [or 2023?] many of us find this not only straightforward but even unavoidable?” The inquiry doesn’t point to whether society is religious or not. It doesn’t address whether individuals are engaging with churches. It’s not about the variety of faiths. Instead, for Taylor, the emphasis lies on how we hold beliefs, on what appears credible to us. Taylor posits that 500 years in the past, a life devoid of transcendence would have been fundamentally unimaginable. The world was filled with transcendent entities. God and various spiritual forces operated powerfully in both the world and within individuals. We inhabited an enchanted existence. God was an integral part of reality. While we may have had theological disputes, transcendence was generally ever-present.

Life in the world

Accelerating to our current situation, not having faith in God (or any perspective of transcendence) is not merely a choice, but for a large segment of our community, it appears to be the sole feasible method. God has shifted from captivating everything to being just one choice among numerous possibilities. For a lot of individuals, religious belief does not appear to be a genuine option. This signifies a profound cultural shift. In James K.A. Smith’s preface to Taylor’s work, he characterizes this as a fundamental understanding in Taylor’s examination. A secular age is characterized by a belief in God that is profoundly debatable.

Looking at our current situation, rejecting belief in God (or any form of transcendence) is not just a possibility, but for numerous individuals in our society, it appears to be the sole perspective that makes sense.

What could this signify? My daughter has a deep and impactful experience of the Faith both at school and in our home. However, her daily encounters in the world—through her friendships, her dance lessons, and even at the Olive Garden—expose her to alternative perspectives on life and what constitutes meaning. Many of these narratives, if not the majority, present a view of existence without any reference to God, existing in what Taylor refers to as an “immanent frame.” This is a realm with a barrier that is impervious to the divine. Additionally, residing in such a context fosters “a sense that competing narratives are constantly imminent, providing a vastly different portrayal of existence,” accounts that “challenge the core narrative of faith.” Taylor argues that this places significant pressure on believers, particularly as we more frequently encounter these immanent frame narratives among those we relate to, such as our neighbors and classmates. This can render faith feeling fragile, plagued by uncertainty.

Closed off to transcendence

Thus, even though “secular” might denote declines in religious participation or the way we shape our institutions, “secular” in this regard denotes what Taylor describes as this recently emerged context of belief, which is filled with varying perspectives on transcendence and purpose. It serves as the backdrop for our beliefs. We cannot escape it; our commitment to the Faith will inevitably engage with this realm of conflicting meanings. Our faith will develop amidst this contestation.

Building on this foundational understanding, Taylor’s research presents a historical narrative explaining how we arrived at this point. While this account will outline the historical and philosophical changes that brought us to our present secular era, it also serves to articulate the experience of holding faith in our time. As Smith notes, the merit of Taylor’s work lies not primarily in logical arguments, but in the ability to resonate with the insights he articulates. He provides a sense of our secular era. For the purpose of deepening our Faith and learning how to communicate the Gospel in the world around us, this work holds immeasurable significance.

It is crucial to recognize that this narrative differs from accounts of religious pluralism, from existing in a society where individuals hold various beliefs regarding God or the transcendent in a broader sense. In such scenarios, multiple interpretations are involved; however, secularity refers to a perspective in which the world appears detached from anything eternal or divine. Here, we are not concentrating on debates surrounding the divinity of Jesus Christ or the significance of Communion, for instance. The primary focus is on the credibility of any genuinely transcendent reality in a universe that has increasingly been perceived as understandable and livable independently. As Taylor notes, “one way to express our current situation [our ‘secular age’] is to assert that numerous individuals are content pursuing objectives that are entirely immanent [of this world], living without regard for the transcendent.” In this framework, the concept of a transcendent reality underpinning and shaping your existence in tangible ways may appear forced or like a form of escapism. Our cultural default setting imagines a scenario in which God holds no relevance; countless individuals in our society struggle to envision anything outside of this.

Recovering the Incarnation

As noted, the preceding account is remarkably succinct. There are aspects and diversions in Taylor’s story that contribute remarkable intricacy and clarity to the terrain he is portraying. However, even with this concise basis, it’s reasonable to inquire: what implications does this hold for us as Catholics?

Looking forward in the Church’s journey, Taylor states we will need to “contend to recover a sense of what the Incarnation can mean.”

We need to restore an understanding of what the Incarnation can signify due to the diverse, frequently concealed, influences that our secular era has had on our perception of what could be attainable with God.

The Incarnation signifies our conviction that God, in the second person of the Trinity, has assumed our humanity in Jesus Christ to bring about our salvation. He existed and interacted among us, completely divine and completely human. He had meals, prayed in his home and at the synagogue, and traveled on foot while working. He experienced the warmth of the midday sun and the coldness of nighttime. Raised by a mother and a father, he engaged in disputes; he preached; he listened intently. He experienced both joy and sorrow. Yet, throughout these thoroughly “human” experiences, he remained entirely divine. As a result, these ordinary aspects of life transform into sacred places; they disclose his presence. Through his entire existence, his death, and his resurrection, he demonstrates his redeeming love for us, indicating that God is not distant. Every aspect of our lives and our world has been incorporated into his existence for the purpose of its salvation. In him, we can perceive this world in its true form.

We need to regain an understanding of what the Incarnation can signify due to the myriad, frequently concealed, influences that our secular era has molded our perception of what might be achievable with God. For the non-believer, indeed, secularity is intentional and purposeful. There are no higher realities; the universe is understandable and navigable on its own. Yet for all of us, including those who have faith, our secular era has permeated us, piece by piece. It has shaped who we are. The vulnerability we experience in our beliefs, the truth that much of our existence can be interpreted without referencing transcendence, all contribute to our anticipations of the world, our aspirations, our instincts, and our longings. It has crafted our understanding of what reality entails, and that reality often exists as a space where we find it challenging to perceive God. Our instinctive response suggests that God is neither our source, our core, nor our ultimate aim, at least not in any practically significant manner.

Pope Benedict XVI on secularism

During his apostolic journey to the United States in 2008, Pope Benedict XVI met with the U.S. bishops and delivered an address responding to questions posted by the bishops. In the first question, “The Holy Father is asked to give his assessment of the challenge of increasing secularism in public life and relativism in intellectual life, and his advice on how to confront these challenges pastorally and evangelize more effectively.” Here is an excerpt from his answer: “It strikes me as significant that here in America, unlike many places in Europe, the secular mentality has not been intrinsically opposed to religion. Within the context of the separation of Church and State, American society has always been marked by a fundamental respect for religion and its public role, and, if polls are to be believed, the American people are deeply religious. But it is not enough to count on this traditional religiosity and go about business as usual, even as its foundations are being slowly undermined. A serious commitment to evangelization cannot prescind from a profound diagnosis of the real challenges the Gospel encounters in contemporary American culture. … “Perhaps America’s brand of secularism poses a particular problem: it allows for professing belief in God, and respects the public role of religion and the Churches, but at the same time it can subtly reduce religious belief to a lowest common denominator. Faith becomes a passive acceptance that certain things “out there” are true, but without practical relevance for everyday life. The result is a growing separation of faith from life: living “as if God did not exist”. … “Let me conclude, though, by saying that I believe that the Church in America, at this point in her history, is faced with the challenge of recapturing the Catholic vision of reality and presenting it, in an engaging and imaginative way, to a society which markets any number of recipes for human fulfillment.”

Formed by the secular

So what actions should we take? I would suggest various writings that provide deep insights on how this environment should influence the life of the Church and our approach to ministry. However, in this brief space, here is what I gain from it.

We must recognize that our thoughts and feelings have been shaped by an environment where faith in God appears largely unimportant for understanding the world and thriving within it. Notre Dame sociologist Christian Smith illustrates the significance of religious belief among young people as comparable to the general significance of oil refineries in their lives. This might seem exaggerated, but the essence is that they are aware of refineries’ existence and recognize their importance in a certain abstract sense; however, unless someone has a personal interest in them, there is little reason to contemplate them during everyday activities. Existing in this secular era suggests that we probably have some spiritual oil refineries in our lives – places where it’s difficult to picture God holding much significance at all.

The issue is that these locations are frequently hard for us to perceive. Consequently, recognizing them can only occur through examining our experiences. An incarnational spirituality must encompass a thorough exploration of the stories found in Scripture and the lives of the saints, into profound human stories of existence shared with God and of God’s presence in Jesus Christ within our world, while reflecting on our own lives through these narratives, serving as reflections.

Living like saints

Here’s a specific illustration to clarify this further. Some time ago, my spouse and I embarked on a pilgrimage to Alençon and Lisieux, France, visiting certain sites linked with Sts. Louis and Zélie Martin, the cherished parents of St. Thérèse of Lisieux. Throughout our exploration, we delved into their correspondence with one another and examined every biography available. These letters are filled with raw, “utterly human” experiences. One of my favorites features Zélie expressing her frustration over a challenging tantrum from the toddler Thérèse while Louis was away on business. We visited their residence, which offered a glimpse into the lace-making enterprise they operated together. We also went to the church where they exchanged vows and wandered through the streets they frequented in their everyday lives. Collectively, they serve as a tangible example of how the call of marriage can be integrated into the journey of Christ.

You can observe how their hardships (of which there were numerous) were changed by participating in Jesus’ suffering on the cross. Although they found it difficult to recognize God’s influence in the ordinary, they learned to believe that the everyday tasks of nurturing children and generating an income, with all the endurance needed for both, were chances to engage in Christ’s love. Cooking, stitching, marketing, and church breakfasts turned into a glimpse of the divine. They transformed into the fruitful, Spirit-filled ground that yielded remarkable fruits of sanctity.

As I strolled through the corridors of the Martin residence, it seemed to me that I could grasp the essence of Providence. This realization comes more readily in this place since we are aware of the conclusion of their narrative. We understand that God would summon from this household one of the most remarkable saints of our era, St. Thérèse. Among numerous other remarkable creations, the everyday existence experienced within those walls was utilized by God to shape her; it was all orchestrated by Him. In like manner, everything in the dwelling seemed magical, even the floorboards. And in some enigmatic fashion, maybe it truly was. The items of their daily existence, whether tables and chairs or pots and pans, felt suffused with the brilliance of their callings.

Plates are plates, and invoices are invoices. They don’t inherently seem like the platform God is utilizing to elevate a saint.

In this manner, this pilgrimage led us to a deeper, more profound understanding of our marriage as a vocation. Personally, much of this clarity emerged from the contrasting feelings I experienced. I came to understand that perceiving my everyday life as a “Martin House” isn’t my default mode. Dishes remain dishes, and bills stay bills. They don’t inherently feel like the backdrop God is using to cultivate a saint. Nevertheless, the reality is that this Martin home “magic” is what genuinely exists. The Lord desires to transform our household in the same fashion as He did with the Martins. They serve as a testament to what the Incarnation can signify, even if we must strive to recognize it in our own existence. To keep this in mind, we maintain an icon of Sts. Louis and Zélie along with all their children in our family room. It’s arranged like a Sears family portrait, yet crafted in classic iconographic technique. It serves as a striking glimpse into what the Incarnation, timeless and ever-renewing, can represent.