Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the use of “natural law” in modern Catholic social thought. Although something like the notion of “natural law” can arguably be found even in the Old Testament, the Christian manifestation of the theory is usually associated with the thought of Thomas Aquinas. Despite the popularity of natural law language in modern Catholic thought, Thomas’ use of natural law actually played a relatively small role in his theological and ethical reflections. I’m not going to get into Thomas’ use of natural law right now, but I think it is interesting to look at how natural law theory functions to justify the translation of theological language into more “neutral” secular language. In order for the church to speak to secular power an appeal to “the natural” is made, that is, what “all people of good will” can comprehend. But does this translation result in a tempering or minimizing of the profundity inherent in Christian theological thought. In other words, is it really possible to translate theological language? Of course, theological thought cannot be separated from the community we call church and so the attempt is usually made to weed out the “relevant” politics imbedded in theology so our voice can be effectively heard. So the question arises can Christian social thought be separated from the embodied life and speech of the church without losing its distinctiveness? Does the church have a social ethic that it can bring to the pluralistic table or is the church a social ethic in and of itself?
The renewal of the vision of episcopal-primatial collegiality in the Second Vatican Council has not been effectively operative in the Roman Catholic Church. Despite the teaching of Vatican II on the subject, the Church still tends to operate under more of a centralist model than a one based on bishop-primatial collegiality. The primary reason why the Church tends toward centralism is not the result of a obsession for monarchical rule; nor does it have to do with a sort of will to power embedded or inherent in the papal office as such. Rather, the heart of the problem lies most fundamentally in the prevalent notion that the universal church precedes the local church. In 1992 the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith released a letter in which Cardinal Ratzinger states that the universal church is “a reality ontologically and temporally prior to every individual church.” The notion that the local church ontologically derives from the universal church has led to a privileging of the “one” over the “many.”
Eastern Orthodox theologian John D. Zizioulas sheds an important light on the subject. He argues that “the ‘many’ must have a constitutive and not derivative role in the Church’s being.”In other words, the ‘one’ cannot exist without the ‘many.’ Indeed, the opposite must also be true, and this is Zizioulas’ significant contribution to the discussion: the one Eucharist transcends ontological priority so that there is “simultaneity of both local and universal.” If there is to be true collegiality between the episcopate and the papal office, or true communion, the one cannot be set against the many, nor the many be against the one.
Vatican II’s affirmation of the “priesthood of the laity” led to a new understanding of the relationship between the laity and the ordained members of the Church. Vatican I emphasized papal primacy and infallibility and painted an image of the Church’s hierarchy as a pyramid. The vision of the Church’s hierarchy as a pyramid, with the pope at the top, the bishops right beneath, then the priest, left the masses, the laity, at the very bottom. As John Ford puts it, the problem with this image of the hierarchy is that it “implied a correlative understanding of the ministries of the person(s) at each level” (299). In this model, the laity play a passive role: they are recipients of the sacraments and teaching, but do not play any significant role in shaping the life and vision of the Church. In contrast, Vatican II envisioned the hierarchy, not as a pyramid, but as a communion. While affirming the structural hierarchy, the Church empowered the laity to share “in the one priesthood of Christ” (LG 10), which even includes playing a role in the formulation of doctrine (LG 12). Furthermore, the Council called the laity to “share in the priestly, prophetic and kingly office of Christ” (AA 2) in the Church through participation in activities such as teaching the catechism, pastoral care, and administering the resources of the Church (AA 10).
The emphasis on the “priesthood of the laity” has led to new understandings of the various ministries of the Church and how they relate to one another. In this model, the ordained priest still enjoys particular duties, serving as “pastoral minsters of Word and sacraments in a local eucharistic community” (M 30), but his duty includes empowering the lay people to fulfill their own priestly, prophetic, and kingly functions in the Church and in the world. In effect, this vision of the Church collapses (and perhaps even inverts) the pyramid scheme: the pope, the bishops, the priests, and deacons, though fulfilling their respective duties, also serve the laity and empower them to fulfill their vocation to be “leaven in the world” and witnesses to the gospel.
The Christian church must seriously engage the truth-claims of other faith traditions because we believe God is active in the world seeking to gather all of humanity back to himself. On the one hand, this is just another way of saying that the church must have a posture of openness to the work of God in the truth-claims of other traditions. On the other hand, it is also a way of affirming that God’s revelation in Jesus Christ is the truth and therefore the only proper starting point for Christian reflection and evaluation of the truth-claims of other religions. To say otherwise is to suggest that Christians (or anyone else for that matter) have access to some other superior and “objective” perspective by which to evaluate competing truth-claims. Thus, to proclaim that Jesus Christ is the truth, the way, and the light, is no more of a confessional statement then to say he is not, or something else is, or nobody knows. Of course, truth-claims contain little value if they are not embodied by a people. Thus, Christians must witness to God’s saving work in Jesus through peaceableness and service to and for the world, which includes other faith traditions.
With the rise of globalization the religious and cultural “pluralism” that exists in the world seems to be magnified. Paradoxically, however, the reality of globalization threatens to collapse the distinctiveness of all traditions into one, homogenized, faith in the ideology of the global market. Nevertheless, religious pluralism does exist and so it poses a challenge to the Christian church, especially in an age that seeks to consume all religions at once to satisfy the thirst for more, or, for the sake of unity, attempts to privatize religion altogether. Although there is much to affirm in other traditions, whenever truth-claims are made truly public there will exist some degree of conflict and division. Still, the unity we desire with other religions is not to be found in the nation-state (around a flag). Instead, in the face of conflict the church must proclaim that unity is to be found in a wafer, for God has reconciled the whole world to himself in Christ.
The celebration of the Eucharist and the existence of a bishop are not necessary for a particular community to be called church. If we agree with Vatican II that the Eucharist and a bishop are necessary components of what constitutes a church, then how do we account for “ecclesial communities” that do not have a college of bishops and do not celebrate the Eucharist in communion with Rome? Does this necessarily mean that when these people gather to worship they do not constitute church? By the logic of Vatican II we are left with the Roman Catholic church and other “ecclesial communities” not other churches. To be fair, Vatican II made many concessions in the direction of ecumenical dialogue, but this writer cannot in good conscience agree with an idea of church that, by the necessity of its own logic, excludes other communities of baptized people who gather for worship and partake in the Lord’s Supper.In order to defend such a claim, I must demonstrate that something else constitutes a church. To clarify, I do believe that a congregation that celebrates the Eucharist around its bishop is a desirable model of church, but it does not by itself constitute it. Indeed, the Eucharist is the source and summit of the church’s life and the bishop provides the visible connection and helps bring the particular church into communion with other churches. However, it is not the Eucharist and a bishop that constitutes our identity as church. Rather, our identity as church is grounded in our having been called into communion with the Triune God. In other words, we are constituted by God as we participate in this communion. All of this is not to deny the importance of the Eucharist; nor is it to discredit the function of the bishop. However, to claim that these two elements of the church’s life constitute its being as such, fails to fully recognize that only the Triune God calls the church into being, and that our participation in this communion is a flawed participation. This does not mean that we cease to be church; it does mean that what constitutes church cannot be solely identified on the basis of particular ecclesial practices.
The movement from Pastor Aeternus of Vatican I to Lumen Gentium of Vatican II marks a significant shift of emphasis in Roman Catholic ecclesiology. Both documents reflect the mood and tone of the Councils in which they were promulgated. Pastor Aeternus is representative of the culmination of a long-standing concern of the Catholic Church to defend the legitimacy of the papacy against its detractors. Strong defenses are made for both Apostolic Succession and the primacy of the Roman Pontiff and the faithful are warned that if they do not comply they will be anathema. When the clergy and laity are mentioned it is only in reference to the importance of their submission and obedience to the Roman Pontiff, the Vicar of Christ (3:1; 3:2). All of this is emphasized for the sake of Christian unity.
When viewed side by side the documents appear to be coming from radically different worlds of thought. In terms of style and language, Lumen Gentium is more pastoral and homiletic in tone; it is written to persuade rather than to simply promulgate. Furthermore, there is a distinct focus on biblical images of the church, such as the people of God and mystical body of Christ. In contrast to Pastor Aeternus, Lumen Gentium emphasizes the role of the laity and the local church as playing a significant part in forging the identity of the Catholic Church. Perhaps the greatest shift in emphasis between the two documents is the recognition that the church is more than just an institution.
Upon closer investigation, a continuity becomes evident between the documents. In chapter three of Lumen Gentium, there is a reiteration of the Vatican I’s emphasis on the apostolic continuity of the hierarchal structure of the institutional Church. However, even these statements, in keeping with the general tone of the document, emphasize the role of the episcopate in the local Church and the building of the whole people of God.
The unity of the whole church of Christ depends, in no small part, on the Roman Catholic Church’s active engagement and involvement in the affairs of ecumenical theology. The Second Vatican Ecumenical Council’s Decree on Ecumenism Unitatis Redintegratio rightly asserts that division “openly contradicts the will of Christ, provides a stumbling block to the world, and inflicts damage on the most holy cause of proclaiming the Good News to every creature.” The Decree exhorts all the Catholic faithful to “participate actively in the work of ecumenism.” Indeed, the hope for Christian unity was not only a fundamental element of the Second Vatican Council but it was once again reiterated in Pope John Paul II’s Encyclical Ut Unum Sint in which he reminds Catholics that the task of ecumenism is not secondary to the mission of the church but “stands at the very heart of Christ’s mission.”
Roman Catholic engagement and involvement in ecumenical theology ought to be characterized by a posture of openness and humility. The Catholic Church’s commitment to unity must start with an openness to the Holy Spirit at work in non-Catholic communities. Openness coupled with a posture of humility creates a space for healthy dialogue with other Christian communities. Furthermore, if the hope for unity is grounded in the belief that Christ is the true head of the whole Church, reconciling all of humanity to himself, openness and humility will flow from the heart of Catholicism. Finally, we must hope with Pope John Paul II, “By God’s grace… neither what belongs to the structure of the Church of Christ nor that communion which still exists with the other Churches and Ecclesial Communities has been destroyed.”
The conversion of the Roman emperor Constantine to Christianity was the single most important development in the church’s life during the first 1900 years of its existence. The event is significant because it spurred on a shift in the church’s self-understanding and its relationship to the world. Whereas before the conversion of Constantine Christians were a persecuted minority, soon after his conversion Christians became a persecuting majority. Within one hundred years after Constantine’s conversion to the faith, Christianity not only was tolerated by the state, it had in fact, become the official religion of the empire. For many Christians, the conversion of Constantine was providential. In the spirit of the liberating story of Israel, many interpreted the Christianization of the empire eschatologically, as if God’s hand was delivering his people from Roman oppression. In actuality, however, the Christianization of the empire led to the loss of the distinctive nature of Christian commitments. In short, the church became a religion of the status quo. For a minority, the accommodation of the faith to empire was unacceptable, and so women and men committed to community, a life of poverty, nonviolence, and discipleship joined convents and monasteries. What had been the distinctive witness of many Christians was now left for the “radical” minority.
The Mennonite theologian, John Howard Yoder, referred to the collusion of Christianity with empire as “Constantinianism.” Indeed, the conversion of Constantine gains its fundamental importance precisely because much of the church bought into his pursuit for power, security, and domination of the world. Thus, the significance of this event is not tied to one historical period. Rather, Constantinianism is the heresy by which the church continues to be seduced in its misguided pursuit to legitimize itself to the world. Even in contemporary times, in a period “after Christendom,” the church finds itself tempted to sacrifice faithfulness to Christ for the sake of imperial ambitions.
Earthly authority needs to reinforce itself in conflict and dominance; if the community of Jesus’ followers reinforced itself in such a way, it would be admitting that its claims were derived from this human order. The realm, the basileia, of God, to which Jesus’ acts and words point is not a region within human society any more than it is a region within human geography; it is that condition of human relationships, public and private, where the purpose of God is determinative for men and women and so becomes visible in our history – a condition that can be partially realised in the life of the community around Jesus but waits for its full embodiment in a future only God knows. And for the first and second generations of believers, the community in which relation with the Risen Jesus transforms all relationships into the exchange of the gifts given by Jesus’ Spirit has come to be seen as the historical foretaste of this future, as it is here and now the embodiment of Jesus’ own identity – the Body of Christ – to the extent it shows this new quality of relation.The Church is, in this perspective, the trustee of a vision that is radical and universal, the vision of a social order that is without fear, oppression , the violence of exclusion and the search for scapegoats because it is one where each recognizes their dependence on all and each is seen as having an irreplaceable gift for all. The Church cannot begin to claim that it consistently lives by this; its failure is all too visible, century by century. But its credibility does not hang on its unbroken success; only on its continued willingness to be judged by what it announces and points to, the non-competitive, non-violent order of God’s realm, centred upon Jesus and accessible through commitment to him.
Rowan Williams, “Faith Communities in a Civil Society – Christian Perspectives” Sermon given at King’s College, Cambridge10th September 2007
Tonight I had my first class as an M.A.T. student at the Saint Paul Seminary School of Divinity at the University of St. Thomas. The class was wonderful and I am really looking forward to it. The instructor, Rev. J. Michael Byron, did his doctoral work under the supervision of the controversial Roger Haight who was recently “silenced” by the Vatican. This class is on Ecclesiology from a Roman Catholic perspective. We will be reading a ton of Vatican II documents as well as Avery Dulles’ Models of the Church. I am really looking forward to this course and I will keep you posted on what I’m thinking about in terms of ecclesiology.
