As the bells tolled to usher in the third millennium, Pope John Paul II, with his characteristic prophetic gaze, offered the Church a profound directive in his Apostolic Letter Novo Millennio Ineunte (At the Beginning of the New Millennium). His words, born of contemplation and decades of pastoral experience, echoed the Lord’s command to Peter: “Duc in altum!” – “Put out into the deep!” (Lk 5:4). This was more than a poetic invitation; it was a strategic and spiritual imperative for a Church facing a new era.
For John Paul II, “putting out into the deep” in the twenty-first century meant boldly rediscovering the true essence of Christian life. It wasn’t about simply maintaining existing structures or repeating past methods. Rather, it was a call to a radical revitalization, a courageous venture into the foundational depths of faith and discipleship. Practically, for the Church in the new millennium, this implied:
- A renewed evangelisation that reaches beyond the comfortable shores of the already faithful. It means confronting indifference, secularism, and spiritual apathy with the liberating truth of the Gospel.
- A commitment to authentic Christian witness, allowing the light of Christ to shine brightly through the lives of His followers, not just through institutions or programs.
- A fearless examination of priorities, ensuring that every pastoral initiative, every program, every communal effort, genuinely serves the ultimate purpose of the Church: leading souls to Christ and into the fullness of life in Him.
This latter point was perhaps the most revolutionary and consequential aspect of his vision. John Paul II made it unequivocally clear: “all pastoral initiatives must be set in relation to holiness” (Novo Millennio Ineunte, 30).
Why this seemingly audacious connection? Why mandate that holiness, often perceived as a pursuit for a select few, be the yardstick for all Church activity? The Pope understood that the vitality of the Church, its capacity to evangelise, and its internal coherence stemmed directly from the spiritual depth of its members. He was diagnosing a fundamental disconnect: if pastoral efforts are not geared towards fostering genuine holiness, they risk becoming merely organisational, bureaucratic, or socially focused, losing their ultimate supernatural end.
He called this a “choice filled with consequences” because it demanded a profound re-orientation. It meant questioning whether existing programs truly led people closer to God, whether they fostered deeper prayer, virtue, and self-gift. It implied that success couldn’t be measured purely by numbers or visible activity, but by the tangible growth in sanctity within the Christian community. To anchor everything in holiness was to declare that the Church’s primary purpose is not merely to transmit information or administer sacraments, but to truly sanctify—to make holy—her children, preparing them for eternal life and empowering them for mission in the present.
Yet, despite the clarity of this renewed call, its reception has often been marked by a curious ambivalence. The initial impetus for emphasising the universal call to holiness at the Second Vatican Council stemmed largely from an ecclesiological perspective. The Council Fathers affirmed that the Church herself is holy, and consequently, all her members are called to partake in this holiness and tend towards its full realisation.
To understand why this conciliar affirmation did not immediately translate into clear, practical pathways for spiritual growth, we must briefly revisit the intellectual landscape of Spiritual Theology in the first half of the twentieth century. The 1920s, in particular, witnessed an incredible renewal in this field, then often referred to as Ascetical Mystical Theology.
Such movements in the early 20th century, like that spearheaded by Fr. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange (often associated with the thought of Fr. Arintero, O.P., asserted that our baptism calls us to mystical life).
This intellectual ferment led theologians to delve back into the foundational sacrament of Baptism, finding in it the profound theological grounding for the universal call to mystical life.
A crucial achievement of this period was the clear distinction drawn between true, deep mystical union with God and extraordinary phenomena (such as stigmata, levitation, or bilocation). The consensus began to emerge: all baptized Christians were called to contemplation as a consequence of their baptismal grace.
This was indeed an important turning point. The understanding crystallised that a truly deep spiritual life cannot progress without receiving God’s gift of contemplation. But herein lay the crux of a fervent and ultimately unresolved debate: what is contemplation, and what are the conditions for receiving it? A heated intellectual battle ensued, largely crystallising around two dominant opinions. One position, championed mainly by Dominicans and Carmelites, argued that contemplation is infused—a pure gift from God, emphasizing divine initiative and grace. The other, primarily advocated by Jesuits, contended that it was largely acquired, stressing the indispensable role of human free will and cooperation.
This fierce intellectual struggle, played out in specialised theological journals, persisted for roughly two decades before it faded and ultimately ceased. Crucially, and contrary to what some later historians might suggest, no common ground or agreement was ever reached on the fundamental nature of contemplation or how it is received. This lack of resolution was not merely an academic footnote; it was profoundly damaging, albeit silently. The people of God, longing for spiritual depth, were not just seeking the theology or theory of contemplation; they were silently waiting for practical insights to genuinely progress spiritually.
Consequently, while other theological fields within the Church had witnessed significant progress and offered rich fruits to the Council (e.g., ecclesiology, ecumenism, liturgy, apostolate, the role of the laity), the vital field of Spiritual Theology, precisely because of this unresolved foundational debate, did not offer anything sufficiently coherent or practically relevant to be integrated into the teaching of the Second Vatican Council.
Thus, when the Council, for profound ecclesiological reasons, described the faithful as being called to holiness because the Church is holy, the people of God, their leaders, and indeed the Council Fathers themselves were left with a powerful ideal, yet a vague general knowledge of its practical realisation. We were, in essence, “none the wiser” on the concrete “how.” Yes, we are all called to this incredible ideal, but without a clear map or effective guidance on how to reach it. This historical and theological reality is absolutely vital for understanding the spiritual life of the Church after Vatican II. Religious orders were called to renewal, to go back to the sources of their vocation, to embrace the Word of God and the centrality of Christ, but they, too, often found few concrete indications on how to truly live out the call to holiness beyond general popular perceptions and assumptions.
The Council ended, but the practical “how-to” remained largely undiscussed in official documents. This has led to a persistent, observable phenomenon in the Church to this day: a widespread agreement that we are all called to holiness, yet a lingering uncertainty about its specific contours, requirements and the journey. We often possess only a general idea of what it means to be a “good, fervent Catholic,” but little further concrete guidance. Perhaps even more strangely, the pursuit of deep, personal holiness still carries a certain taboo for many, almost as if it’s an exceptional path reserved for a few saints, while the majority (and often quite contentedly) still anticipate a prolonged purification in purgatory as the standard outcome.
Indeed, it is remarkable that in the decades following the Second Vatican Council, there has been no substantial Magisterial document dedicated to explaining holiness in detail, outlining the stages of the spiritual journey, or providing clear means to reach it. The very mention of contemplation, which was at the heart of the earlier unresolved debate and essential for deep spiritual progress, became a proper taboo subject, a direct consequence of the “traumatism” of the 1920s-1940s dispute.
This historical and theological reality is absolutely vital for understanding the spiritual life of the Church after Vatican II.
It is for these deep-seated reasons that Pope John Paul II’s incredibly bold statements in Novo Millennio Ineunte, even though they had been gestating in the Church for years, landed for many like a meteorite on a peaceful day. “What does it truly mean?” “What does it really entail for my life, for our parish, for our seminary?” Without a robust, practical framework for spiritual formation readily understood and widely implemented, the “duc in altum” risks remaining a noble ideal rather than becoming the transformative reality it was intended to be. The urgency of his call was, and remains, often disconnected from the practical means by which it could be answered.
It is precisely against this backdrop that the clarity and force of Chapter 5 of Lumen Gentium, the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, truly shine. While the specific “how-to” remained elusive, the Council Fathers unequivocally laid a firm theological foundation by dedicating an entire chapter to the “universal call to holiness in the Church.” This was a deliberate and profound affirmation, signaling that holiness is not an elite pursuit for a select few, but the inherent vocation of every baptised Christian, flowing from the very nature of the Church as holy.
As Lumen Gentium states in its opening to this chapter:
“The Church…is held, as a matter of faith, to be unfailingly holy. For Christ, the Son of God, who with the Father and the Spirit is proclaimed ‘uniquely holy,’ loved the Church as His bride, delivering Himself up for her so as to sanctify her (cf. Eph 5:25-26). He united her to Himself as His body and endowed her with the gift of the Holy Spirit for the glory of God. For this reason, all in the Church, whether they belong to the hierarchy or are cared for by it, are called to holiness, according to the Apostle’s saying: ‘For this is the will of God, your sanctification’ (1 Thess 4:3; cf. Eph 1:4).” (LG 39)
The Council Fathers further elaborated, stressing the active participation required:
“It is therefore evident to everyone that all the faithful of Christ of whatever rank or status, are called to the fullness of the Christian life and to the perfection of charity; by this holiness as well a more human manner of life is promoted in this earthly society. In order that the faithful may reach this perfection, they must use their strength accordingly as they have received it, as a gift from Christ, so that, following in His footsteps and conforming themselves to His image, doing the will of God in everything, they may devote themselves with all their being to the glory of God and the service of their neighbor. Thus the holiness of the People of God will grow into an abundant harvest of good, as is admirably shown in the history of the Church through the lives of so many saints.” (LG 40)
Pope John Paul II, deeply immersed in the spirit of the Council, forcefully reminded us that this emphasis was “not just to embellish ecclesiology with a kind of spiritual veneer, but to make the call to holiness an intrinsic and essential aspect of their teaching on the Church.” He underscored the truth that the gift of holiness in Baptism “in turn becomes a task, which must shape the whole of Christian life.” (NMI 30).
Herein lies the critical juncture. The Church, through the Council, powerfully proclaimed the what – the universal call to holiness. John Paul II reiterated the why – it is essential for all pastoral initiatives and for the Church’s very being. But the enduring question, rooted in the historical challenges of spiritual theology, is the how.
How does this intrinsic and essential call move from a beautiful ideal to a lived reality for the “ordinary Christian”? How does this gift truly become a task that shapes every aspect of one’s life? This is where the concept of “Spiritual Formation” emerges not merely as a helpful tool, but as the indispensable, practical framework for answering the highest calling of the Christian life. It is the “training in holiness” adapted to people’s needs, enabling them to move from understanding the call to actually living it out in deep, transformative union with Christ.
At this juncture, some might reasonably argue: Is the Catechism of the Catholic Church not already a sufficient guide for holiness? Indeed, Pope John Paul II himself gave us this monumental achievement, which provides immense clarity for adult formation and theology. However, while profoundly valuable and utterly essential, the Catechism serves a distinct purpose: it offers catechesis, a systematic exposition of the Church’s faith (Creed), Sacraments, moral teaching (Commandments), and prayer. It is designed to provide the solid doctrinal foundations upon which a Christian life is built.
Yet, as vital as this foundation is, it is not, by its very nature, a mystagogy or a comprehensive guide to spiritual formation. Consider, for example, the Catechism’s Fourth Part, dedicated to Christian prayer. While it offers a foundational explanation of prayer, its methods, and its significance, it presents what is, by necessity, a bare minimum. It offers an initial starting point for the faithful, but it does not—nor is it intended to—dive into the profound depths of the spiritual life, its progressive stages, the nuances of contemplative prayer, or the complexities of spiritual discernment that have been meticulously developed over two millennia.
To suggest that merely having understood the first three parts of the Catechism (Creed, Sacraments, Commandments) is sufficient for one to become holy is to inadvertently dismiss twenty centuries of profound spiritual teaching, mystical experience, and the hard-won wisdom of the saints and spiritual masters. While an explanation of the Creed, the Sacraments, and the Commandments is undeniably needed for every believer, it simply cannot be enough to lead a soul to the fullness of charity and mature union with Christ.
As Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger (later Pope Benedict XVI) eloquently articulated, Christianity is not fundamentally “a dogma, a rite or a moral code… but an encounter with an event, with a Person, which gives life a new horizon and a decisive direction.” (Homily for the Funeral of Don Luigi Giussani, 2005). The Catechism brilliantly lays out the dogma, describes the rites, and expounds the moral code. But the encounter, the new horizon, and the decisive direction that lead to profound spiritual transformation require something more—they require a deliberate, progressive Spiritual Formation that equips the faithful not just with knowledge about God, but with the practical means to pursue and live with God, deeply and authentically, through every stage of their journey towards holiness. This is the distinct and indispensable role this book seeks to illuminate.