Chris Haw

In July 2013, National Catholic Reporter profiled the recent memoirs of Kaya Oakes (Radical Reinvention) and Chris Haw (From Willow Creek to Sacred Heart). I was already familiar with Oakes’s book, having profiled it in the print edition of The Fine Delight, and was happy to see her essays appearing regularly in Commonweal and America. But Haw’s name was new to me, and I was certainly intrigued by his spiritual journey. NCR’s Tom Roberts concludes by putting the books in contrast and conversation: “These are two very smart books, different in tone and perspective. But in the telling of their stories, both writers wrestle with the big and small of things, with matters of matter and creation and their connection to divine life; the deep ills of humankind and the Christian response; a kind priest; an understanding atheist husband; remarkable sisters; the sense of family; the ever unfolding project of spirituality; the quiet profundity of sacramental life; the role of women in the church; war and peace.”

I was impressed by From Willow Creek to Sacred Heart, both as a document of faith formation and transformation, as well as a book that shows how theology has a place in the parish community. Haw constantly has an eye toward the parish and the public, considering the thought of Peter Maurin and Dorothy Day as yoking “cult, culture, and cultivation.” He concludes that “if your economics is exploitative and unbalanced, your culture and religion will be deformed. If we refuse to be religious and just be ‘spiritual,’ we will leave our culture and economics up to whatever television and dominant culture offer."

Haw’s urban ministry was of particular appeal to me. My family is from Newark, NJ, and I teach at Rutgers-Newark, a college I consider to contain a lively and diverse community—diverse in both background and thought. Haw’s Camden and Newark share much. The move from the Midwest to Camden “revitalized” Haw, and his return to the Catholic church through an invigorating local parish allowed him to see all things new, including when his priest “mingles the ashes from burnt-down and abandoned houses into the palm ashes.” Haw’s love for symbolism bleeds into his appreciation for mysticism. He notes that mystics “have adventurously plumbed the boundlessness of God and stayed connected to the bounded Church . . . [these mystics] didn’t pit the universal against the particular, the infinite against the finite, the metaphysical against the physical, or spirit against the flesh. They understood that even the profound Shapeless could take the shape of the mundane—that God, at least once, had been ‘boxed in’ and defined, with flesh.”

From Willow Creek to Sacred Heart belongs in every parish. Thanks to Chris for sharing his thoughts with The Fine Delight.

1. The rhetorical arc of From Willow Creek to Sacred Heart is your ultimate conversion back to Catholicism, but I'd like to start with Willow Creek. Looking back at your spiritual past, what were the most positive elements of that evangelical Protestant church and worldview? Might any such experiences possibly inform or help Catholics?

You might say that Willow Creek is emphasizing the things that have grown cold in much of the Catholic Church. They are profoundly pastorally and relationally oriented; it is presumed that members are incorporated into intimate small groups; it has a culture of biblical literacy for all. Their "homilies" are delivered with precision and excellence. Though they are long, they are usually chock full of organized content (even if the content, as I find, was lacking in historical theological depth. e.g. you won't find a sermon interpreting an issue in light of Church Fathers and Church teaching over time.) Some Catholic churches have been working on Bible studies and small groups, but they could take some pointers from the full energy Willow et al put into theirs.

2. Many people are surprised (non-Catholics, but sadly, also Catholics) to discover the essential intellectual tradition of Catholicism. Throughout the book you unpack etymologies, refer to Church fathers and philosophers, consider literary traditions and genealogies. Do you think this intellectual tradition (theology, Church fathers, thinkers, writers) could be better stressed at the parish level, in religious instruction, in Catholic communities?

I think the average churchgoer would be absolutely fascinated if homilies interacted with the enormous world of intra-scriptural symbolism and imagery. Patristic writers were excellent at this--finding curious connections of meanings. Rob Bell's former mega-evangelical church was started by an expansive and discovery-oriented look at Leviticus. And the church exploded! Now, I don't want to suggest this merely as a gimmick to "get people in"; but I think Rob offered a corrective to his own evangelical world: where Willow was focusing on the theatrics of the stage (and Bell still had some of that), he was focusing on the startling and satisfying work of examining ancient Scriptural meaning. If Catholic homilists would deliver messages simply devoted to interpreting the daily lectionary through the intriguing work of folks like Chrysostom, Origen, etc.--to say nothing yet of "life application", which would be advisable as well--this would be a in itself a treat, and a step forward. It would be great if every Christian had at least a basic Wikipedia-type grasp of, say, ten or so historic Christian intellectuals and/or saints; folks might feel less lost and disempowered in contemplating "the great mysteries."

3. My family is from Newark, NJ, so I was heartened to learn of your ministry in Camden, a beautiful place that has experienced the same economic struggles as Newark. You note that "in my easy, safe circumstances, my soul was never challenged into wondering how I would respond to anxiety, fear, hatred, depression, racism, and violence," and, in discussing Mass, that "Christians weekly walk into a space devoted to recalling, and repenting of, the day we collectively tortured and murdered God."  Should there be an element of uncomfort in the Catholic experience? Do you think many contemporary Catholics have become complacent in their faith? And, in a related sense, do you feel the sense of Catholic social justice is alive and well?

That contemporary American Catholics, as a general whole (with exceptions everywhere) have become complacent is a given and obvious fact to me. Though, given the amount of cultural trappings, props, and momentum that the Catholic Church has, this complacency is less visible; perhaps we are often more respectable collectively than we are individually. Spurs of discomfort would indeed do us well. The first and foremost image of discomfort for the Catholic should be the crucifix. Few other communions share this image with Catholics. I think it is an absolute anthropological breakthrough, which can serve to remind us of the rampant torture and violence in the world today. Truth, aletheia, means refusing to forget--myth means closing one's eyes or ears, etc. Until we stop making victims, we shall have to keep recalling the forgiving victim--which is the word for the Eucharistic host (I thank James Alison and Girard for this forgiving victim emphasis). But, unfortunately, we cannot see the crucifix any more. We see it as a religious symbol, or perhaps a comforting symbol--like a sign of something vaguely holy. But we need to unsee it somehow, so that we can resee it. Perhaps if a generation or two of crucifixes were made in which the cross is instead in the form of an X, or a tree, or in which Christ is stripped naked or stapled in a less formly fashion to the instrument of torture--or something. We cannot see the crucifix today the way we have not been able to see Abu Ghraib or Guantanamo, or the unimaginable military aid we pour into Israel or Colombia, and so on.

4. You stress the communal aspect of Catholic ritual, how "people who might not even share the same language can share a space at a table of prayer and thanksgiving." Any thoughts on the recent liturgical retranslations?

It’s funny that a parish I know, full of liberals, was very irked by the retranslations. Their "open-mindedness" oddly made them suspicious of change--for they saw it as regressing. This is a good example of how many liberals are actually quite conservative (and some conservatives are trying to conserve liberal things). Seeing as some of the translations simply involved more poetic imagery (e.g. "enter under my roof), I don't see why we couldn't accept the changes as "liberal." Sure, it’s going back to the Latin--but that is not necessarily conservative. 

I love how my priest back at Sacred Heart, in the "liberal" desire for a better universal humanism in the Church, thinks it would be great if the readings and homily were done in the vernacular, but--so that a person could visit anywhere on the planet and be at home in a foreign Mass--the Liturgy of the Eucharist were done in Latin. This would best be understood as "liberal": the vision would make every Catholic at least bilingual (which is obviously liberal), and the potential for coherent cross cultural exchange would be improved (again, obviously cosmopolitan and liberal).

5. I am very appreciative of your generous quoting from GK Chesterton. How did you first discover this essential thinker, and if you could select one bit of guiding wisdom or spiritual insight from him, what would it be?

I was introduced to him in a directed reading on economics actually (Utopia of Usurers)--and I loved his rhetorical style. Pointers about him: some say his sentences are better than his paragraphs, which are better than his chapters. That is, don't let his eloquence obscure your discerning his overall point. He is obviously one of the better rhetoricians of the last century; but it’s not obvious how to apply him today. What must be applied is his convivial spirit of debate. Here today, he would explode our politically correct inability to talk about politics (and religion)--by doing so in a generous, humorous, and affectionate manner. 

6. I was nodding my head during much of this book, but particularly during Chapter Seven: Pagan Christianity. While I hope readers of this site will run and get your book and read these pages for themselves to see how you masterfully present the thoughts of Rene Girard, could you summarize here why observation of pagan precedent (or sharing with pagan traditions) might help people better understand Catholic ritual?

"Pagan" might best be understood as the habits and rituals that humans "naturally" concocted. And, living in the wake of the strong atheistic push of the Feuerbach-Nietzsche era, and the static cloud of New Atheism, I think many folks feel dazed and separated from the traditional habits of the pre-modern word: for many, we had the theism knocked out of us. And yet, for those who are starting to recover from dizziness, we want to return to mystical expression, we want to think and act more analogically, metaphorically, symbolically--to recover what we imagine as the habits of our ancestors. I know one hip, granola-type midwife who said she wants more paganism in her life. I think she's amidst a quiet movement of curiosity and return. But, once we start doing this, I think, we will eventually bump into the center of paganism, which involved blood sacrifice. This is obviously unacceptable in our day; but it takes contemplation to see how the crucifixion of God is why we don't think sacrifice is acceptable anymore. And yet, we have in the midst of civilization, an enormous body of people, both parading the crucifix and daily offering an "unbloody" sacrifice every day, wherein we eat the flesh and drink the blood of Christ and celebrate the seasons. It is a profound reality worth considering; and I hope many will see, in their curiosity with paganism and joyful ritual expression, that (per Chesterton) "Christianity is the only frame that has safely preserved the pleasures of paganism." 

7. A few writers have called anti-Catholicism "the last acceptable prejudice." Certainly James Martin SJ has noted that this prejudice, when apparent, is compartmentalized and likely not institutional, but the fact remains: as you note from your own Protestant experience, "Catholic theology [is critiqued] without ever reading Catholic theologians." If you could correct one misconception about Catholicism, what would it be?

Well, I don't know if I want to "defend" Catholicism from derision. Derision is a good and humble-ing thing (cf. the Beatitudes). So, I don't really want to complain about the fact that--while I think is true--that much of society is so open minded it must deride Catholicism. I also don't resonate with the big pushes for defending our "freedom of religion"--it’s hard for me to imagine the founders of our faith posturing for respectability and absence from criticism. 

But, to get to your question, it might be the misconception that having a hierarchy doesn't categorically make Catholics into intellectually placid lemmings. It enables organization, semi-democratic argumentation, engagement with thought beyond fads, and thus development. One can complain about the forms of the hierarchy and who is included, but one should not complain about its existence.

8. "I cannot improve it by abandoning it": I wish that more Catholics with disagreements would work from within rather than leave. This is our Church, after all. What would you say to a lapsed Catholic who doesn't want to return to what they consider to be a flawed institution, who would rather be a "cultural," rather than a "practicing," Catholic?

I would have to meet them first. I might make a joke about who they expect to bury them. Or I might have an in-depth discussion about what priests and sacraments are. Or I might talk about what solid alternatives to Catholicism we have; or which institutions are less flawed, and yet as diverse and encompassing, as the Catholic Church. Or, I might joke about how being culturally catholic is probably better than being a boring agnostic--which simply means "ignorant." Or, most likely, I would just invite them to a beautiful Mass like I experienced at Sacred Heart--or to the 4:30am Easter vigil. I think beauty and liturgy is probably the best door into the Church--not apologetics or explanation.

9. You are now pursuing a doctorate at Notre Dame. What led to this decision to return to the academic world?  

Well, I have thus far enjoyed being a jack of all trades and master of none. Carpentry, pottery, electrician work, woodworking, painting, teaching, writing. But I love the life of the mind and teaching far too much to not keep growing--and doing so by learning from trained experts and not just a library card. So, I've decided to pursue one of my many paths more deeply now.

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Chris Haw is a husband, father, carpenter, potter, adjunct professor at Cabrini College, and founder of Camden Houses, an intentional community. Raised in Chicago’s northern suburbs, Haw was baptized Catholic but joined Willow Creek Community Church as a teenager. Here he met and became friends with Shane Claiborne; the two would later become leaders in the New Monasticism movement along with Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove.


He earned his double bachelor’s degree in theology and sociology from Eastern University and his master’s degree in theology and religious studies from Villanova. Upon returning from studies in Belize, Haw started an intentional community in an economically devastated section of Camden, New Jersey, which operates in partnership with Sacred Heart Church. This connection fostered Haw’s reassessment of his own faith and in 2006 he returned to the Catholic Church. In 2008 he cowrote Jesus for President with Shane Claiborne. He has been interviewed by Christianity Today, Sojourner's, CNN, and Al-Jazeera.

His website is www.chris-haw.com