PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS WAS WRITTEN OVER TEN YEARS AGO. MY VIEW HAS BECOME MORE NUANCED.
This reflection is in reaction to a phenomenon I have observed wherein critics immediately stereotype and associate the "institutional" with cruelty and sinful hypocrisy. It is not always the case that institutions victimize the "individual" or the "weak". If left uncontested, such a stance regarding corporations and governments might be hastily translated into a pessimism regarding relationships to the Church, too. Indeed, this already seems to be the case. We place our private agendas ahead of those truths taught and practices sustained in the institution that Christ founded.
When studying at Catholic University, I recall countless times during the liturgies when individuals would inflict injury upon orthodox sensibilities. Visitors and progressive seminarians would add petitions to the Prayer of the Faithful, like, "For women who are called to be ordained, that the oppressive male-dominated structures will be overturned and that all will hear their appeal for justice, we pray to the Lord," or "That the Church will discard its pompous wealth for the sake of the poor and needy, we pray to the Lord," or "That the Pope and bishops will be mindful of Christ's example in not making the terrible burden of celibacy mandatory, we pray to the Lord," etc. The presumptions in all these "so-called" intercessions are severe and they "victimize" the universal Church and those who render assent to her teachings. Notice in all these examples the authority of the "institutional" Church, as they might term it, is questioned. There is no sign of any critical eye turned to their own views. There is nothing of Christian humility in their stances.
The stark and rugged individualism, in which Americans often take great pride, and which these revisionists would criticize as not adequately empowering the needs of struggling sub-communities, is at work, nevertheless, behind the scenes of their own prideful advocacy. My dilemma in their regard often has to do with their ill-founded sense of certitude. Without being elected or appointed, they draw to themselves a select sect of like-minded believers and posit their "infallibility" over that of the shepherds established by Christ and safe-guarded by the Holy Spirit. In other words, they deem to speak in the name of God against his universal Church. Unlike the Magisterium, which we believe is protected by the Holy Spirit in a formal way from falling into serious error; these men and women have no such safeguard. Even their particular holiness is no guarantee to fidelity in doctrine. Many Protestants, with whom the Church take exception regarding particular beliefs, have demonstrated sincere faith in Christ and signs of spiritual Christian perfection. Even canonized saints of the Church have not, in retrospect, been correct regarding every theological opinion or interpretation of private revelation. Having said this, a callous disregard for the shepherds of the Church or of her structures can put serious barriers between us and the Lord who deems to give us his grace and salvation. While many revisionists would seek to stamp the Church as "institution" with the stigma of sin; it may be that the purity of the Church reflects or mirrors back the unrepented sins of her critics. This is not to say that the Church is totally void of sin. Christ came to call sinners and we have been faithful in filling our churches with them. However, we attempt to preserve ourselves from the charge of hypocrisy by using the penitential rite at the beginning of every Mass: "Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy." The Church is holy because Christ is holy.
Recently, I read a book by Brian P. Hall entitled,
Shepherds and Lovers. Although it had some good points, and indeed, is a good book overall, it too seemed to reflect the mentality that the "institutional" is somehow tainted. His references to theologians like Boff (outspoken proponent of liberation theology) and Kung (not so infallible questioner of papal infallibility) gave away his theological persuasion as revisionist and challenging of authority. He writes, ". . . each of us is caught between what our primary experience of institution demands of us and what individuals want from us" (p. 4). This introductory statement in itself makes some actual sense. In pastoral counseling, people often come with situations in which there is a struggle between "going by the book" and trying to help them come to some basic decisions of their own regarding their lives. However, Hall's tendency to put the mask of the villain on the institutional comes out in an earlier quote: "To succeed, 'to come out on top,' we need greater consciousness [whatever that means], more skills, and personal support systems that will enable us to oppose the very institutions that appear to support our day-to-day existence" (p. 1). He sees the tension between the "creative development of an institution" and the call to the "Shepherd Leader" as so terribly intense, that he identifies it with the Cross of Christ (p. 7).
Hall is ultimately in the same camp as the liberation theologians -- a different ilk, but still the same. Written in terms of spirituality and psychology, his work is keenly preoccupied with freeing people in their very selves and in raising their awareness of themselves and of God's plan for them. I find this very noble, even if I do claim differences of emphasis on some points. I am not sure that the demonic or sin can be explicitly identified with this tension he discusses. I am not claiming that the tension is neutral; indeed, what I propose might be quite frightening, that the tension is an opportunity for growth and blessing. The tendency for us to lump the Church with other "institutions" is unfair. We use the word by analogy with other organizations, not as one totally identical. Unlike a corporation, the parts and structures of the Church are not readily disassociated. Take away those aspects which are catalogued under the term "institution" and there is nothing left. From parishioner to Pope, from cathedral to missionary hut, from canon law to the commandment of love -- the Church is ONE. Even to speak of one part as distinct from another runs the danger of fracturing her organic unity, even if only on the theoretical level. However, a contemporary society which loves dualism, the thesis and antithesis, will always seek to separate for individual scrutiny, the body and soul, the Church's hierarchical structures and the charismatic Christian. What emerges in my mind as the pertinent question is whether any such inquiry would reflect the reality of the Church in which we all share. The Church is as she must be, the way Christ intended from the first seed of her foundation.
If there appears a tension between our obligations as members of a larger community, the friction and struggle needs to be interpreted as an opportunity to be weaned away from sin and to grow in holiness. The Church, not merely as an institution, but in all her constitutive parts, by definition must be in tension with the world. This is not to create another extreme dualism in which the Church is always seen as good and the world as evil; this would be an exaggeration. Prior to the foundation of the Church, there were many societies in which good pagans lived out their lives. However, the Church, as the beginning of God's kingdom breaking into the world, calls us not only to abandon sin but from an inadequate humanism as well. It calls us to fulfillment and to go beyond the natural into the supernatural realm. Both can be good, but one is better. Indeed, the one can be so much more wonderful that the good of the natural order might seem drab by comparison. For this reason, there will sometimes be a tension discerned; when actual evil intervenes, this tension hardens and becomes more fully actualized. However, to locate this evil or demonic in the institution seems too general a hypothesis.
The Christian tradition speaks of many kinds of evil. The Lord's Prayer itself speaks of deliverance from "the evil one," thus denoting a personal quality to this term. This "evil one" has been rendered as the great fallen angel, Satan. His most perverse weapon might be the humorous caricatures and atheism we have adopted in his regard. What you do not believe in, you cannot be defended against. (Before I continue, I must make note of that word "personal" used in Satan's regard. Although I believe he exists and has influence upon us, I would suggest that he is more an "it" than a "he". Sin by its nature always destroys the dignity of the person and a sin unrepented and mortal would strip away the significance of this great gift.) Evil can also be distinguished in terms of natural and moral. An example of natural evil would be if you lived with your family on a hillside and while you were playing with your children, a volcano erupted and wiped you all out. A natural event is interpreted as evil because people are involved. Otherwise, it might be quite neutral or even judged beneficial. An example of moral evil would be if the same family was assaulted and murdered in their beds by an intruder. Admittedly, the example is severe, but if I mentioned theft, blasphemy, sexual permissiveness, etc. the reader might not see anything wrong. Or, the examples might merely be equated as but another instance of tension between the "institution" and the average Joe.
The Church may be said to create tension in that her values are not entirely the same as those of cultures in which she finds herself. To forgive, to seek peace, to be charitable, etc. are often nice mottos on Christmas and Easter cards, but the Church actually challenges us to live out these values. Even in the hierarchy, the Pope himself is called the "Servant of the Servants of God." The word comes close to meaning slave! However, we interpret his position strictly in terms of power and influence. It is but one more case wherein the way the Church sees something is viewed as the direct opposite by those enraptured by the world. Obviously, there would be Christians who would deny this view; I would simply throw the ball back to them and suggest that even Christians and communities in the Church often see things and operate according to worldly values or Mammon and not as Christ requests. Religious people are not exempt; after all, did not Jesus, himself, call the Pharisees "blind guides"?
I recall another book I encountered recently, which also had something to say about our relationship to the "institutional" Church. Called
Basic Christianity by John R. W. Scott, the book begins: "'Hostile to the church, friendly to Jesus Christ.' These words describe large numbers of people, especially young people, today" (p. 7). He continues in the next paragraph to say: "They are opposed to anything which savours of institutionalism. They detest the establishment and its entrenched privileges. And they reject the church -- not without some justification -- because they regard it as impossibly corrupted by such evils" (p. 7).
It should be noted that the above author belongs to the Church of England and not to the Roman Catholic Church. This is but a matter of clarification, not of snobbish antagonism. After all, we have not been without corruption or sin in our camp either. This brings us to an important point. The split or dualism in the language people use in regards to the Church might have something to do with the quality of our Christian witness. Division might sometimes be caused because people see professed Christians living very unchristian lives. A Church which has high churchmen involved in illegal banking swindles, a clergyman who is spied in a very compromising situation, parishioners who attend Mass every Sunday and illustrate their disdain of brothers and sisters Monday through Saturday, etc. may not be all that appealing or convincing to those who are searching for meaning in their lives.
During the Second Vatican Council, this theme emerged in the document regarding atheism, placing part of the blame upon ourselves for the plight of nonbelievers. Today, more and more people are opting, not for atheism and yet not for the Church, but for the dislocated figure of Jesus. As the quality of Christian witness declined, the person of Jesus has tended to be disconnected from the sacrament of his presence, the Church. This is a most bizarre development. Scott writes: "Yet what they have rejected is the contemporary church, not Jesus Christ himself. It is precisely because they see a contradiction between the founder of Christianity and the current state of the church he founded that they are so critical and aloof. The person and teaching of Jesus have not lost their appeal, however. For one thing, he was himself an anti-establishment figure, and some of his words had revolutionary overtones. His ideals appear to have been incorruptible. He breathed love and peace wherever he went. And, for another thing, he invariably practiced what he preached" (p. 7).
These are words which are quite on the mark. The only thing I would add is that the contradiction people see is not only in the "institution" but also in the individual. Our language can betray an ignorance of this distinction. For instance, I can recall dissenters to moral teaching being interviewed on television. Instead of hanging out the Church's dirty laundry in public, they should have sought quiet resolutions to their problems, thus avoiding scandal and leading others into sin. How someone can be so egotistical as to believe that he is absolutely right in the face of contrary doctrine and Scriptural testimony, is beyond me. Espousing ideas imprudently might lead others further away from the truth and salvation. That should be felt as a heavy weight to bear. Dissent should always be displaced by religious assent, treating all matters with humility, patience, and the utmost respect. In regards to the issue of lumping blame for problems upon the Church hierarchy, especially upon Rome, I fear it is simply a case where anti-Catholic bigotry is starting to take hold in the consciences of believers. Again, look at what people are saying. During the Fr. Curran affair, many reporters were questioning whether or not serious divergences on moral issues might lead to schism and a separate American Church. The Know-Nothings of yesteryear would have loved to hear that gibberish.
In casual talk, people will speak about how they can be good Catholics despite the misled and oppressive hierarchy. This stuff sounds like a child telling his parents that he won't love them anymore unless they give him all the candy he wants. The parents get yelled at and kicked for doing something they know they have to do in order to preserve the delinquent's teeth. Maybe the rebellion we sometimes see is simply the stirring of the Church in America, undergoing a childish tantrum of maturing as an adult?
I began this reflection by observing that we cannot be too severe in making distinctions between one part of the Church and another. And yet, people do the opposite all the time. Even those halfway benevolent to our heritage fall into these guffaws. For instance, I recall one interview on television wherein a young woman shouted, regarding abortion, "We are the Church and as women we know what is right to do with our bodies!" Or another, "The Pope and Bishops are wrong, we as the People of God know this to be true (contraception) because the majority of us are in agreement."
Let me begin to take some of this apart, for it is very complex. In the first statement, "we are the Church" and in the second, "we are the People of God" are both accurate statements as far as they go. However, in both cases they are uttered with the explicit intention of negating the authoritative membership of the hierarchy; they are also part of the Church. The reality of the Church as a sacrament of Christ's presence is much like the Eucharist. From the Church universal to the local and parish community, the risen Lord is fully present and available. Each is therefore complete in itself, in this sense. We are intimately bound with the other assemblies of our faith who are in communion with the See of Peter in Rome. To destroy or rupture this unity on a universal scale has as its effect, the distortion of the presence of Christ in the local community. The reason I tend to avoid the word "institution" in this regard is because it has been overly identified with another word "corporation" which unfortunately in the popular mind denotes corruption, greed, manipulation, and fraud. These are themes angry people imagine when they think of Church leadership on a universal scale. It is a stereotype which is no more than a big lie.
The irony which emerges in this kind of language is that the very ones who say that they have been excluded from decision-making positions and power would themselves exclude in their rhetoric, the Church leadership, rendering them inconsequential in regard to their views, and even worse, demoting them as non-members of Christ's Church.
From Pope to parishioner, we are all members of the People of God with particular roles and responsibilities. We should not seek to blur the distinction in our roles or to overlap them where to do so would do damage to the mechanism which works in the Church. Even theologians, who are called to defend and to help promote the teachings of Christ which develop and mature organically throughout history -- even they are not the Magisterium of the Church. They are helpers and movers but not the ultimate teachers. Pope, Cardinal, Bishop, Priest, Deacon, Religious, Layperson -- this is the pattern which safeguards the good order of the Church. This order is ingrained in us and is not simply extrinsic. All are ways to follow Christ in the universal call to discipleship. The teachings of the Church are taught by the Magisterium which itself is protected by the Holy Spirit from grievous error. Doctrine cannot be determined by census poll or vote. Again, we have to be cautious that we do not make our ways into God's ways. In Hall's book, there also reoccurs the subtle criticism about how individuals are called to leadership. Again, our view of democracy even colors our interpretation of the early Church. A few isolated incidents of communities voting for their ministers does not constitute a precedent and certainly not an infallible forum. The use of Trustees almost destroyed the young Church in this nation, I doubt we would want to return to it. We have all heard stories about Protestant clergymen who have sacrificed their values to get the choice appointments. The Catholic clergy must never do this. Ambition kills the priest! No, the magical answer is not always having communities dictate who their leaders should be. We are called, not to be navel-gazing narcissists but to be Christians. There will be times when the best leaders will tell us what we will NOT want to hear. They will challenge us to grow beyond our selfishness. This is true of the parish and this is true of the Church as a whole.
There is some truth to Hall's statement that "There are many Christian leaders who are not Ministers (bishops, priests, or deacons), but need to develop their ministry as shepherds within their respective institutions" (p. 8). However, I would caution that the limits of such ministry be clearly delineated so that it might not become confused with the service offered by clergy. Indeed, the word "ministry" itself might be better used as something peculiar to the ordained. A ministry might be "confirmed within" and become "evident to" one's community; however, I would caution against a clear identification (p. 18). Hall uses the example of Saint Francis who failed in converting Muslims in Syria and went home to where his call was fulfilled in his community. Certainly, God may have called Saint Francis back to Italy, but because he had something for him to do there, not because his ministry up until that point had been a failure. Such a view would negate the value of almost all missionaries in foreign lands where the message falls upon deaf ears. The Lord does not call us to be successful, only faithful. Again, we find another error of revisionism, that the fruits of our labors must always be abundant and obvious. The real ways of God are such that we might minister an entire lifetime and never really know empirically whether we made any difference or not; and yet, in faith, we know we did what we were called to do-- what we had to do. God's kingdom may be filled with a bounty prepared and harvested unknowingly in this life by faithful and tireless ministers of the Gospel.
Hall makes two points which I would like to applaud and re-emphasize:
Individuals are important but always within an institutional context. (p. 19)
If the growth is to be positive and life-giving, the institution must become a friend rather than an adversary. (p. 20)
First, there is a sense in which statement one is false. After all, each and every one of us is precious and irreplaceable in the eyes of God. Second, however, in regard to the corporate, the Catholic Church has always had a high regard for herself as a community. We are all bound together in the Mystical Body of Christ. From the saints in glory to the most miserable sinner asking pardon on this planet-- we are one. In the Old Testament, Yahweh called to himself a primitive Semitic people and made them his own. He called Abraham, Moses, David, Solomon, the prophets, etc. from out of this community to bring them repeatedly back to fidelity to him. In the New Testament, Jesus emerges as the Messiah who would be hailed by John the Baptizer and who would gather twelve disciples around himself as the beginnings of a new People of God. All the great heroes or saints of the Church are the individuals who are important in our legacy as a Church and as disciples of Christ.
The second proposition is true as well; however, there is a responsibility of the perceived to witness integrity and holiness and of the perceiver to be generous and open. Closed hearts and minds will interpret the most loving and protective of mothers as simply oppressive and demanding. Conversely, we are to nurse from the bosom of this bride of Christ as thankful children, not as a ravenous and corrupted horde. We should not so much stress the tension as the unity of all the facets which make up the jewel we call the Church. The Church is here understood as the vehicle of salvation; not as an obstacle to everlasting life.
Prayer:
Dear Father, help us to see beyond our own selfish agendas to recognize the true needs of our brothers and sisters. Let us be as respectful to the teachers of our Church as we are to our family members whom we love and respect. From single to married, from bishop, priest, deacon, religious to layperson, let us nurture a generous spirit and a tongue which utters words of reconciliation. Let us be mindful that we are an indispensable part of a whole which is valuable and wonderful. We are part of this "institution" stemming some two thousand years, countless saints, and a billion followers walking this planet right now. Make us one in heart, mind, and soul, as we are one in baptism. Amen.