They say learning a language is like riding a bicycle, but I’m not sure I believe that. Back in the day, I was pretty good at French. Five years of instruction, mostly by Ursulines who had a vested mission interest in spreading French language and culture, gave me a much more solid foundation than I realized at the time.
But that was a very long time ago. Even more to the point, it was before I abandoned French to dabble in other languages as an undergraduate. Elementary studies in Russian, Greek, Latin, and Slovene were both fun and interesting. But all that linguistic gallivanting has left me with a shelf of lexicons and a lot of confusion. Being a dilettante of many languages and a master of none but English wasn’t the result I had hoped for.
Some cradle Catholics may feel something akin to that. If they’ve been away from practicing the faith for a while, returning to it may seem beyond reach. It may even be a source of anxiety. All those people in the pews repeating the responses without a second thought can be intimidating to those who haven’t been to Mass for a while. To them, the whole experience might feel more like visiting a foreign country than it does like returning home. But things don’t have to stay the way they are, not even after decades. It may take some time to regain the balance and confidence required to take an old bike for a spin down the street, but it’s not nearly as difficult as it was to learn the first time.
Sometimes, all it takes is the right kind of motivation. An unexpected opportunity to help lead a pilgrimage to France later this year gave me the push I needed to sign up for classes at the local Alliance Française language school. I placed myself in Level 2 with the intention (I really should have known better!) of reviewing the Level 1 texts before the course began. Of course, that did not happen, and because it didn’t, I was more than a little nervous walking up the stairs on Saturday morning. Once inside, though, everything changed. That’s because the Alliance Française creates a space for French immersion. Classes, conversation, administrative interactions: everything is conducted en français. And while this approach requires time, tolerance and temerity, most educators agree that immersion is the best way to learn a language.
The same can be said for the Christian life. Faith in Christ cannot be learned or lived solely in hourlong Sunday sessions. Mere exposure — a sprinkling, if you will — is not enough; only total immersion will be.
Those returning to their faith as well as those who never left it must immerse themselves in the waters of baptism. We can’t just do the minimum and expect to “get by.” If we are to absorb the truths of our faith and genuinely practice them, we must learn how to dive into the deep end of the font. Challenging ourselves and each other to venture where the water is way over our heads shouldn’t be exceptional or unusual. It’s how we learn to rely on grace. And it’s how the saints became holy.
Instead of asking that everything be translated into the languages we already speak, we should commit ourselves to listening until we understand enough to attempt a response. Embracing the humility necessary to make progress, we should expect to stumble along — two steps forward and one step back — for longer than we hoped. We must cultivate the willingness to be disoriented and clueless, awkward in how we express ourselves and prepared to keep trying. And, we should anticipate the need to accept correction along the way.
Catholic Christianity isn’t an extracurricular, or even a program of instruction. Nor is it merely a way to live our lives. Following Christ is life, and it comes with a language and culture all its own. Those who become truly conversant — even fluent in the language of God’s love — learn it the same way we learned our first language: through immersion.
Read More Commentary
Copyright © 2025 OSV News
