Rediscovering Patience

Drawing on the history of our early Christian church, perhaps a formation in patience is the first step towards the countercultural conversion that underpins all radical change, writes Patricia Gemmell.

Alan Kreider wears his scholarship lightly in his deeply researched book, The Patient Ferment of the Early Church: The Improbable Rise of Christianity in the Roman Empire. In the wake of the recent Synod on Synodality, many of us are looking for ways to explore and implement synodality in our local situations and, in so doing, are turning to the early church for inspiration and support. Kreider’s fascinating study has given me much to think about.

We live in an age addicted to convenience, where impatience is a normal way of life, but patience was deeply ingrained in the early Christians, and was, in fact, at the heart of their Christian witness. Spanning the second, third and fourth centuries, Justin Martyr, Clement of Alexandria and Origen all wrote of the primacy of patience in the faithful lives of their communities.

Tertullian and Cyprian each wrote a treatise on this virtue, and Lactantius (a North African like Tertullian and Cyprian) referred to patience more than 150 times in the seven books of his Divine Institutes, describing it as the greatest of all virtues.

What did this patience look like? Very briefly, it was a way of living, reflecting the patient character of God and following the patient life and teachings of Jesus. It meant treating others well, behaving courageously when persecuted and trusting in God with confidence. It was hopeful, non-violent and countercultural. The integrity of one’s lifestyle (i.e. living according to one’s professed beliefs) was paramount.

Kreider believes that in these early centuries converts were attracted to the faith by the witness of people’s lives. Christians were noticeably different and their communities were distinctive. One of the most interesting sections of the book deals with the question of how converts were able to change their reflexive ways of thinking and acting to become like Christians.

This question of conversion lies at the heart of all that Pope Francis endeavoured to initiate during his pontificate. I am thinking particularly of Laudato Si’ and the recent Synod.

In Laudato Si’, “it is we human beings above all who need to change … An awareness of the gravity of today’s cultural and ecological crisis must be translated into new habits … the ecological crisis is also a summons to profound interior conversion … The ecological conversion needed to bring about lasting change is also a community conversion.”

As for synodality, in the final Synod document (October 2024), in paragraph 43, we find this: “Synodality is primarily a spiritual disposition. It permeates the daily life of the Baptised …  A synodal spirituality flows from the action of the Holy Spirit and requires listening to the Word of God, contemplation, silence and conversion of heart.”

I am very interested when Kreider poses the question, “How did people learn the teachings of Christ not just with their heads but with their bodies?” In other words, how did conversion become ingrained and embodied, how did it result in a new way of being in the world?

You will not be surprised to read that patience played a large part. Kreider contends that “the Christians’ habitus was formed patiently, unhurriedly, through careful catechesis as well as through the communities’ reflexive behavior, and that it was renewed in the regular worship of the Christian assemblies.”

Can we learn something from the formation process of our early Christian church? The catechesis was indeed careful, patient and unhurried (sometimes years, “as long as it took for the candidates’ character to be formed”). Importantly, the catechumens were accompanied in their journey by Christian friends, and no doubt by the catechists as well. Relationships mattered.

The baptismal rite, coming after years of catechesis, and prepared for with prayer and fasting, had an emotional impact that most of us would find hard to imagine. After the baptism, new Christians became incorporated into the assembly and began to regularly attend the Sunday Eucharist, where they were renewed in their commitment, particularly by the sermon whose aim was conscious formation of Christian character.

As Kreider sums it up, “Christian catechetical approaches were unrivalled in the ancient world and powerfully shaped the church’s witness.” Could we say that today? If we reflect on what passes for initial and ongoing formation here and now, we cannot help but be struck by how meagre our offerings often are. It is no wonder that participants throughout the Australian Plenary Council and Synod assemblies of the past seven years so often cried out for good formation.

And yet, as much as we long for this formation, do we not also need a necessary disposition of patience? Perhaps a formation in patience is the first step we need, to slow ourselves down, to become people capable of silence and contemplation, capable of being present and learning what it is to pay attention, to speak boldly, listen deeply and love the other. This is the countercultural conversion that underpins all radical change.

This article was published in the November 2025 edition of The Good Oil, the e-journal of the Sisters of the Good Samaritan, and is republished with permission. There is no cost to subscribe to The Good Oil: www.goodsams.org.au