Three Paths Through the Wilderness: Reflections on Responses to Cultural Crises

 

An old man's thoughts on the choices facing the faithful.

Introduction

"You are the salt of the earth... You are the light of the world.

A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.

Nor do they light a lamp and then put it under a bushel basket"

(Matthew 5:13-15).

In my lifetime, I've witnessed sincere Christians explore distinct paths in responding to cultural hostility or indifference. Each claims fidelity to Christ's call to be salt and light, yet these paths seem to point in different directions.

So, I've been thinking more about three images Jesus used - salt, light, city - as I watch Christians struggle with how to live in an increasingly secular, chaotic culture. Salt must touch what it seeks to preserve, but it can lose its savour. Light must shine in darkness, but it can be hidden under a bushel or become so harsh it blinds. A city on a hill cannot hide. it stands visible to all, for better or worse.

Together, these capture the challenge of Christian presence in the world.

The Three Paths

The Way of Authority

Some Christians look at our cultural crisis and conclude that being a "city on a hill" requires commanding the high ground - literally and figuratively. They see Jesus's metaphor as a call to visible, institutional Christianity that shapes society's laws and customs.

Modern Forms:

Evangelical Dominionism: "Christians should exercise dominion over all spheres - politics, education, media, law. The city must govern the valley."

Catholic Integralism: "Civil authority should be influenced by and subordinated to spiritual authority. The city on the hill must be explicitly Catholic in its ordering."

This approach takes seriously the "cannot be hidden" of Jesus's teaching. Why build a city and then let it remain powerless? If Christians have the truth about human flourishing, shouldn't that truth determine the shape of public policy?

I understand this impulse. When I see children confused about basic human nature, families torn apart, and truth itself questioned, part of me wants our Christian city to have the authority to protect and guide. Surely visibility demands this degree of influence?

But I've watched how the pursuit of institutional power can corrupt witness. When the city becomes about dominance rather than service, it may be visible but for the wrong reasons. Is ruling through force rather than attraction the city Jesus envisioned?

The Way of Preservation

Other Christians look at Jesus's "city on a hill" and conclude that visibility doesn't require cultural engagement. It means building beautiful, authentic Christian communities that serve as beacons of hope in a dark world.

Modern Forms:

Ratzinger's Smaller Church: A purified, humble Church, a visible but small city, whose light shines more clearly when stripped of worldly ambition - a light that draws people.

Those who choose this way emphasise that a city's visibility comes from its beauty and distinctiveness, not its size or political influence. A small city, with lights burning brightly, can be seen from greater distances than a large, dark metropolis.

I see the wisdom here, too. Some of the most compelling Christian communities have chosen this approach. Monasteries that draw pilgrims from around the world; parishes known for their liturgy and charity; families whose homes become centres of hospitality and formation. Their city may be small, but it cannot be hidden.

But I wonder about Jesus's intention here too. Did he envision his followers building cities primarily for convinced Christians to inhabit? Can such a city truly fulfil its purpose if it serves its own citizens rather than welcoming strangers and offering refuge to those still wandering in the valley below?

The Way of Engagement

A third group of Christians interprets the "city on a hill" as a place of refuge and welcome. Visible, because its gates are always open and its lights are always burning for travellers in need.

Building such a city will attract. It offers radical hospitality and engagement with its secular neighbours as fellow image-bearers seeking truth. The city will seek former inhabitants and call them home. It will work for the common good without making politics the goal. It will offer service, dialogue, and authentic community.

This missionary response honours all of Jesus's metaphors - preserving through salt-like influence; guiding through illumination; and witnessing as a city that can be seen by all but threatens none.

This feels most consistent with complexity and humility. It doesn't promise easy victories or pure communities. It offers hope that Christians can be simultaneously faithful and welcoming, distinctive and charitable.

But this approach requires constant discernment. Can Christian distinctiveness be preserved while keeping the gates open? The city cannot become so accommodating that it loses what makes it attractive. The risk is a bland city, well-lit, without the saltiness that preserves.

Living the Tension

As I've grown older, I've come to believe that each way captures something essential about Christian discipleship, and each has its shadow side. The question isn't which path is perfect, but how to learn from all three while avoiding their pitfalls.

What I've Learned

In my years of watching these debates, I've noticed that the most compelling Christians often combine elements from all three ways:

The conviction of those who seek authority without the will to dominate. The authenticity of those who prioritise preservation without the tendency to withdraw. The charity of those committed to engagement without the risk of accommodation.

They understand that being visible, being salt and light requires both courage and humility, both truth and love, both engagement and distinctiveness.

Closing Reflection

Jesus called his followers to be salt and light in the world. He didn't promise this would be simple or safe. Salt that engages the world risks losing its savour. Light that shines risks being extinguished or hidden. But the alternative, “invisible Christianity,” serves no one. We are called to be a city on a hill offering hope to a world desperate for truth and mercy.

The path forward, then, may not be choosing between the three ways, but learning to walk all three wisely - knowing when to stand firm, when to build up, and when to reach out. In our complex cultural moment, we may need Christians walking all three paths, each offering their gifts to the Body of Christ.

Theological Postscript: The Paths Ahead

The Conciliar Foundation

Jesus's metaphors teach Christians need to preserve (salt), illuminate (light), and show a distinctive presence in the world (city).

The Second Vatican Council provides a theological foundation for different forms of engagement. In Gaudium et Spes, the Church is described as "existing in the world" and yet summoned to "carry forward the work of Christ," bringing to light" the Gospel’s “healing and elevating impact on the dignity of the person."

The Council called for contextual discernment. The Church must "read the signs of the times and interpret them in the light of the Gospel,” applying the principles of subsidiarity and enculturation. The Church should "foster and take to herself, insofar as they are good, the ability, resources, and customs of each people.”

This theological insight supports all three strategies. The choice is prudential, not doctrinal. The Council affirms that the Church's power is not "external dominion exercised by merely human means," but rather a power shaped by faith and charity that adapts its expression to local needs and possibilities [1].

Papal Teaching on Contextual Responses.

Three papal pontificates have developed this conciliar insight.

John Paul II's social doctrine clarifies that lay Christians have a vocation in the temporal order. In Centesimus Annus, he emphasises that authority must advance the common good and uphold human dignity, warning against strategies that seek power for its own sake [2]. His instruction to American bishops stressed that "the Church's mission in the social order ... must respect human dignity and religious freedom" [3].

Benedict XVI offered a prophetic caution about worldly influence, and spoke of a Church that may become "smaller" in influence but more spiritual and genuine in witness [4]. In Deus Caritas Est, he insists that "the Church's deepest nature is expressed in her three-fold responsibility of proclaiming the word of God, celebrating the sacraments, and exercising the ministry of charity" [5]. Importantly, he warns against a "purely institutional" understanding of the Church that loses sight of its spiritual calling.

Pope Francis, in Evangelii Gaudium, emphasised that the Church must be missionary, joyful, and relational, critiquing both aggressive secularism and a Church that overly identifies with political power [6]. In Fratelli Tutti, he writes that the Christian apostolic work is about dialogue: "approaching, speaking, listening, looking at, coming to know and understand one another, and to find common ground" [7].

These papal teachings converge on the need for prudential assessment of local context, emphasising different aspects of Christian presence while maintaining unity on fundamental principles.

The Synodal Path Forward.

The choice between approaches will be a matter of local discernment guided by these principles. Local churches, in communion with the universal Church, discern how best to incarnate the Christian message in their settings. Rather than imposing a single model globally, an emphasis on synodal discernment allows local communities to prayerfully consider which way, or combination of ways, best promotes their missionary calling.

Wisdom lies not in rigid adherence to one path. A pilgrim carries different tools for different terrains. Sometimes you need the staff of authority to guide others safely. Sometimes you need the lamp of witness to preserve light in darkness. Sometimes you need the open hand of hospitality to welcome the stranger.

A Final Word

The Preacher reminds us that "to everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven" (Ecclesiastes 3:1). There is a time to speak and a time to be silent, a time to tear down and a time to build up, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing.

Some seasons call for the clarity of those who seek proper authority, not to dominate, but to serve the common good. Other seasons demand the patient work of preservation, building communities of beauty and virtue that can weather storms and draw seekers by their light. Still other seasons require the open-hearted engagement of those who cross boundaries to find common ground with neighbours.

What I've learned in my years of watching is this: the most compelling Christians embody elements from all three ways. They understand that there is a time for the conviction of those who seek authority, but without the will to dominate. A time for the authenticity of those who preserve, but without complete withdrawal. A time for the charity of those who engage, but without losing their distinctiveness.

Pilgrims must be prepared for all terrains on the journey to the City of God. The landscape changes with the seasons, but the destination remains constant - the eternal city where all our partial efforts find their completion, where salt and light, and earthly cities, give way to something greater. Wisdom suggests that believers may choose different ways of being salt, light, and a city on a hill.

What remains constant is the call to authentic presence: maintaining Christian distinctiveness while supporting the human community, proclaiming truth while embodying love, being visible witnesses to the hope that comes from Christ alone. The specific way this is lived out will vary, but the fundamental call remains unchanged.

In our complex world, wisdom lies not in prescribing identical responses everywhere, but in providing principles for genuine discernment that allow local communities to choose their path in communion with the universal Church and in service to the Gospel's transforming power.

“ I do not ask that you take them out of the world

but that you keep them from the evil one.

They do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world.

Consecrate them in the truth. Your word is truth.

As you sent me into the world, so I sent them into the world.”

(John 17: 15-18)

Footnotes

1. Second Vatican Council, Gaudium et Spes (Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World), (1965), 22. 
2. John Paul II, Centesimus Annus (The Hundredth Year), (1991), 24. 
3. John Paul II, Fides et Ratio (On the Relationship between Faith and Reason), (1998), 1. 
4. Benedict XVI, Spe Salvi (On Christian Hope), (2007), 22–25 
5. Benedict XVI, Caritas in Veritate (Charity in Truth), (2009), 1. 
6. Francis, Evangelii Gaudium (The Joy of the Gospel), (2013), 47. 
7. Francis Fratelli Tutti