There is a phrase attributed to the founding philosophy of Cursillos that I have always found both thought-provoking and unsettling: “The Cursillos Movement was not born to make Christians better, nor to make the best Christians, but to make Christians into Christians.” It is one of those phrases that, precisely because they are so well-crafted, run the risk of being accepted before we ask ourselves what they really mean. I fully understand what it is trying to say and agree with much of its underlying meaning, but I cannot simply accept without further thought that Cursillos does not aim to make Christians better. Because if “making Christians into Christians” means that a person moves from a faith that is inherited, cultural, or simply accepted, to a faith that truly shapes their existence, aren’t we also, necessarily, talking about becoming a better Christian? Perhaps the problem lies not in the phrase itself, but in what we mean by “better” and, above all, in distinguishing between the purpose of Cursillos and the consequences that should flow from it.
A “cultural” Christian is not necessarily a false Christian. Such a person may be baptized, sincerely believe in God, have received the sacraments, participate in the Church, and embrace many of the Gospel’s values as their own. He may even have a sufficient knowledge of Christian doctrine. The question is another: what place does God truly occupy in his life? One can know that God loves humanity without having existentially discovered that God loves me personally. One can believe that Christ died for our salvation, yet this truth may barely influence my decisions tomorrow morning. One can believe in God and yet continue to make oneself the ultimate center from which one interprets one’s life, decides what one wants to do with it, and determines what one considers good for oneself. The difference between a cultural Christianity and an existential Christianity does not, therefore, lie solely in what one knows or even in what one believes, but in what happens when what I believe begins to challenge my very existence.
That is where I place the true encounter with Christ. “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son” (Jn 3:16) may be a phrase familiar since childhood, and yet it takes on a completely different meaning when I discover that I am part of that “world”; that this love is not an abstract idea about God, but a love that reaches me personally. Christianity then ceases to be merely the acceptance of certain truths and becomes, instead, a relationship that demands a response. Knowing that there is a God who loves me personally, who waits for me, who wants what is best for me, and who, in Jesus Christ, has taken that love to the point of giving himself up changes the fundamental question. It is no longer merely a matter of whether I believe God exists, but of what I do with my life after discovering that I am loved by Him. “If anyone wishes to come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me” (Mt 16:24). Christ does not impose discipleship; He offers it to human freedom.
That is why placing one’s life in God’s hands does not mean renouncing freedom, but rather exercising it in a radical way. The encounter with Christ does not automatically make me a good, consistent, or holy person. I am still capable of saying “no.” Even after having said “yes,” I can choose the opposite again. Peter recognizes Jesus as “the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (Mt 16:16) and yet will end up denying him three times. The experience of Christ does not eliminate human weakness. The existential Christian, therefore, cannot be defined as one who has achieved perfect consistency between his faith and his life, because we would turn Christianity into a state of perfection reserved for very few. I would rather define a Christian as one who has decided to orient his or her life toward Christ and who, precisely because he or she remains free, needs to continually renew that choice. He or she may fall, contradict himself or herself, and even consciously make the wrong choice. The decisive question will be what he or she does in the face of that inconsistency: acknowledge it and reorient himself or herself toward Christ, or adjust his or her faith to justify his or her way of life.
This also requires us to clarify what we mean by “witness.” Being a witness to Christ does not consist primarily in speaking at length about Him, much less in presenting to others an image of perfection that does not exist. In fact, that is precisely where we could end up distorting our own faith. Christian witness begins when there is a genuine desire for what I believe to shape the way I live. “By their fruits you will recognize them” (Mt 7:16). Consistency will never be absolute, but there must be a sincere striving toward it. If I affirm that Christ is at the center of my life, that affirmation will have to leave some mark on the way I love, work, use my time, treat those who make me uncomfortable, face suffering, ask for forgiveness, or relate to my possessions. It is not a matter of adding religious activities to ordinary life, but of allowing the Gospel to permeate ordinary life.
From this perspective, I also understand the mission of evangelization in a different way. The mission does not begin when I set aside my daily life to do something specifically “Christian.” My family, my work, my friends, and the environments in which I live are precisely the places where my Christianity becomes existential and, therefore, where evangelization begins. This does not eliminate the explicit proclamation of Christ, but it lends it credibility. A faith that is proclaimed but leaves no mark on life runs the risk of becoming mere rhetoric; a life transformed by faith can prompt the question that then makes it possible to proclaim the source of that way of life. Evangelizing does not consist solely in explaining the Gospel, but also in allowing the Gospel to become visible—with all our limitations—in our very existence.
And it is precisely here that I once again question the opening statement. If “making better Christians” means producing people who are more devout, more dutiful, better educated, or simply more present in religious structures, I understand why Cursillos says it was not created for that purpose. All those things may be good, but none of them alone guarantees a personal encounter with Christ. One can pray a great deal without having placed one’s life in God’s hands; one can have a perfect knowledge of Christian doctrine while keeping Christ carefully at a distance from the important decisions of one’s own life. From this perspective, “making Christians into Christians” expresses something far more radical than improving certain behaviors: it aims for someone who already calls themselves a Christian to discover what it truly means to live from Christ.
But I would not completely abandon the expression “making better Christians” either. If, after encountering Christ, my life begins to be oriented toward Him, if I try to live the Gospel more consistently, if I discover my existence as a mission, and if my relationship with others begins to be transformed by what I believe, then I am necessarily becoming a better Christian. Not more perfect, nor superior to anyone, but more authentically Christian. The difference lies in the fact that this “being better” would not be the primary goal, but rather the consequence. Cursillos would not seek primarily to improve the Christian who already exists, but rather to place him or her before Christ so that he or she may personally discover that he or she is loved and can freely respond to that love. If that response is genuine, it will have consequences. “Faith without works is dead” (James 2:17).
That is why, after questioning it, I end up understanding the phrase better, although I still think it needs to be explained. “Making Christians out of Christians” does not mean denying what they already are, but rather helping them move from a faith that may have been received and accepted to a faith that is chosen and lived out; from the God they told me about to the God in whom I decide to trust; from knowing the Gospel to trying to make it the guiding principle of my existence. And perhaps that is also a good way to understand the profound insight of Cursillos: not to produce perfect Christians, nor to select the best ones to make them Christians, nor even to improve the religious lives of those who already are Christians, but to facilitate an encounter with Christ deep enough to place a person before the fundamental decision of their freedom. After discovering that God loves me personally and that in Christ he has come to meet me, the question is no longer simply what I believe. The question is much more uncomfortable: What am I going to do with my life from now on?
Raúl Gonzalez
Diocese of Córdoba (Spain)
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Hacer cristianos a los cristianos
Cursillos in Christianity · OMCC
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