With the election of Francis I to the papal office, I want to set out a renewed vision of what the papal office might be into the 21st century.
First, some background on why this revision is necessary.
Calls against the corruption of the institution of the Church -- in light of the sex abuse scandals that currently rock the Church worldwide (most prominently in America and in Ireland, but I'm doubtless have existed elsewhere) -- have been made by several of my friends. They rightly point out that those who harbor and aid abusers of power are, themselves, guilty of fracturing the unity of the Church and the holiness of Christ's Body, so they deserve to be handed over to the temporal authorities for responsibilities that arise from those actions. I can't hide from the fact that the power of Caesar's sword has been exercised by the Church throughout history -- not just here and now (in the sex abuse scandals) but also throughout the world (in silencing theologians in South America, for example, or in silencing nuns in the United States). Unity doesn't mean uniformity. That's a lesson we've lost since the Protestant Reformation. (Luther, for all his faults, rightly pointed out that excesses in the papal office were demonstrative of corruptions of the institution and rightly called for reform.)
Reform, though, doesn't mean you're throwing the baby out with the bathwater. I'm committed to the vision of Christian unity found in the New Testament. I'm also committed to the vision of the episcopal office as part of that vision. So I'm not as quick to call for a complete dismantling of the office of bishop (or, specifically, of the episcopacy of Rome); I'm also a lot more Anglican about episcopal matters, so I'm at best a schismatic (and more appropriately a heretic).
Also, I want to draw attention to things that have already been said before about Christian unity. John Paul II's Ut Unim Sint is a beautiful document that demands a wider readership. The vision of unity that it contains really is the vision Jesus expressed in John 17. Today, there's a special opportunity before us to seize that vision, so we'd best take it. Not just for the sake of the health of the Church, but for the world.
The ministry of Peter has always been about the leadership of Jesus. Peter may have played major roles of leadership in the New Testament, and he may have been the bridge between the ministries of James and Paul, so it's right that the NT depicts him as being the "rock" upon which the Church is built (Mt 16.17-19). In fact, Peter's ministry served as an inspiration for countless generations to follow. So no matter whether the Church is built on a person (as Roman Catholics perceive that), or on a confession (as most Protestants conceive it), or even as an inspiration (as I'd argue), Peter's memory does serve as a centralizing force for the Church's ministerial leadership.
Thing is, Peter's ministry was never about centralizing power. It wasn't about institutionalization of that power in the elite structures of wealth and education, either. As the NT records it, Peter's ministry was affirming the "royal priesthood" of all believers. All of God's people are the "living stones" founded upon Christ "the Cornerstone" (1 Pet 2.4-10). Given the alienation that early Christians felt under growing Roman social and political pressure to conform -- as well as pressure from Jewish circles (think the stoning of Steven in Acts 6 as one example) -- Christian converts found in the Christian community a new family. This family was radically egalitarian and viewed themselves as "brothers" and "sisters" in the Family of God, with Jesus as their head.
The primary theme of early Christianity -- indeed, the principal confession of Christians throughout the ages -- has been that "Jesus is Lord".* That confession places every structure of leadership (bishops, priests and deacons, especially) under the active and dynamic leadership of Jesus. Only with that confession already made can we begin to talk about the roles structural leadership can play: Calling people to the center of Christian mission, calling for adherence to right faith and practice in the Church, facilitating the addressing of human needs internally and externally, and organizing worship, ministry and teaching for the furthering of ecclesial vitality.
The problem with the Protestant Reformation, though, is that it replaced one misunderstanding of that structural leadership with another. Protestants generally understand the "priesthood of the believer" to be a rejection of institutional leadership, and in favor of a radical individualism that is foreign to the New Testament itself. While that sort of individualism is the heart of Western thinking after the Enlightenment (and hence enshrined in the memories and lives of modern Americans), it's at odds with the way the New Testament itself depicts being human.
Paul has within his letters an organic model of complementarity that seems lost on any number of Christians -- Catholic and Protestant. Rom 12.3-8, 1 Cor 12.1-31 and 14.1-40 as well as Eph 4.1-16 all depict a multiplicity that works together under the dynamic leadership of Jesus. In the Church, we're all connected to our head, and each part is as important as any other part. Relationship and mutuality are thereby highlighted. Likewise, images from the Johannine literature include such living and dynamic metaphors as being gathered by Jesus into a flock and abiding in Jesus as branches are connected to the vine (Jn 10.16; 15.1-17). Fluidity, connectedness, and mutuality -- those are are central themes when it comes to understand what the Church is in the New Testament.
What's more, charisma and structure go hand in hand. If we take John 14-16 seriously, the Spirit-based working of Jesus in the community leads us truth, convicting of sin and leads us into right living. The models of leadership that we have in the community must honor that work, or else that leadership is itself foreign to the Spirit of Jesus.
Beyond the Gospels, there are plenty of accounts of leadership in the New Testament that honor this relationship of mutuality and connectedness, charisma and structure. Think Acts 15. When faced with a major decision about its mission, about who speaks for God's notion of leadership in the community, everyone has a chance to speak, and only then is unity achieved. They waited long enough to discern a common understanding. That's the sort of vision of leadership which genuine Christian unity demands. So it's not a surprise to have Peter intimately connected to that story.
It also serves as a vision for what we might accomplish in our own understanding of the Papacy. In it, we might find a person who constantly points to Jesus as Lord, who reminds us visibly and physically of the unity we have in Jesus, and serves as an office of prayer and discernment. It isn't about the power of uniformity. It's about the power of unity.
Yesterday, I characterized this choice as the choice between the power of Caesar's throne or Jesus' cross. I think this choice is the genuine answer to Jesus' prayer for unity in John 17.
It's obvious that Christians are fractured and divided. It's obvious that there are plenty of genuine obstacles to unity. But it's also possible that the Church can be faithful to following Jesus, the Lord. Organizationally, theologically, morally, sacramentally, proclamationally -- there's a lot to get in the way. But what I'm advocating here is a radical return to the vision of the New Testament as regards that unity and its leadership.
I've maintained all along that if you're focusing on the sins of any one man -- even the Pope -- you're missing the point. As flawed as I am -- and I have many, many flaws -- I am attempting to serve my Master. Sure, matters of morality are important. I'm not diminishing them. But when attention is placed solely on the leadership of the Church, we're buying into a false image of what the Church is.
If we take the New Testament as a guide, there are some markers to guide our conversation about what the Church is and how to understand it, and the leaders of it:
First, there's John 10. There, we discover some key principles:
Then, there's John 17.
_____________
First, some background on why this revision is necessary.
Calls against the corruption of the institution of the Church -- in light of the sex abuse scandals that currently rock the Church worldwide (most prominently in America and in Ireland, but I'm doubtless have existed elsewhere) -- have been made by several of my friends. They rightly point out that those who harbor and aid abusers of power are, themselves, guilty of fracturing the unity of the Church and the holiness of Christ's Body, so they deserve to be handed over to the temporal authorities for responsibilities that arise from those actions. I can't hide from the fact that the power of Caesar's sword has been exercised by the Church throughout history -- not just here and now (in the sex abuse scandals) but also throughout the world (in silencing theologians in South America, for example, or in silencing nuns in the United States). Unity doesn't mean uniformity. That's a lesson we've lost since the Protestant Reformation. (Luther, for all his faults, rightly pointed out that excesses in the papal office were demonstrative of corruptions of the institution and rightly called for reform.)
Reform, though, doesn't mean you're throwing the baby out with the bathwater. I'm committed to the vision of Christian unity found in the New Testament. I'm also committed to the vision of the episcopal office as part of that vision. So I'm not as quick to call for a complete dismantling of the office of bishop (or, specifically, of the episcopacy of Rome); I'm also a lot more Anglican about episcopal matters, so I'm at best a schismatic (and more appropriately a heretic).
Also, I want to draw attention to things that have already been said before about Christian unity. John Paul II's Ut Unim Sint is a beautiful document that demands a wider readership. The vision of unity that it contains really is the vision Jesus expressed in John 17. Today, there's a special opportunity before us to seize that vision, so we'd best take it. Not just for the sake of the health of the Church, but for the world.
The ministry of Peter has always been about the leadership of Jesus. Peter may have played major roles of leadership in the New Testament, and he may have been the bridge between the ministries of James and Paul, so it's right that the NT depicts him as being the "rock" upon which the Church is built (Mt 16.17-19). In fact, Peter's ministry served as an inspiration for countless generations to follow. So no matter whether the Church is built on a person (as Roman Catholics perceive that), or on a confession (as most Protestants conceive it), or even as an inspiration (as I'd argue), Peter's memory does serve as a centralizing force for the Church's ministerial leadership.
Thing is, Peter's ministry was never about centralizing power. It wasn't about institutionalization of that power in the elite structures of wealth and education, either. As the NT records it, Peter's ministry was affirming the "royal priesthood" of all believers. All of God's people are the "living stones" founded upon Christ "the Cornerstone" (1 Pet 2.4-10). Given the alienation that early Christians felt under growing Roman social and political pressure to conform -- as well as pressure from Jewish circles (think the stoning of Steven in Acts 6 as one example) -- Christian converts found in the Christian community a new family. This family was radically egalitarian and viewed themselves as "brothers" and "sisters" in the Family of God, with Jesus as their head.
The primary theme of early Christianity -- indeed, the principal confession of Christians throughout the ages -- has been that "Jesus is Lord".* That confession places every structure of leadership (bishops, priests and deacons, especially) under the active and dynamic leadership of Jesus. Only with that confession already made can we begin to talk about the roles structural leadership can play: Calling people to the center of Christian mission, calling for adherence to right faith and practice in the Church, facilitating the addressing of human needs internally and externally, and organizing worship, ministry and teaching for the furthering of ecclesial vitality.
The problem with the Protestant Reformation, though, is that it replaced one misunderstanding of that structural leadership with another. Protestants generally understand the "priesthood of the believer" to be a rejection of institutional leadership, and in favor of a radical individualism that is foreign to the New Testament itself. While that sort of individualism is the heart of Western thinking after the Enlightenment (and hence enshrined in the memories and lives of modern Americans), it's at odds with the way the New Testament itself depicts being human.
Paul has within his letters an organic model of complementarity that seems lost on any number of Christians -- Catholic and Protestant. Rom 12.3-8, 1 Cor 12.1-31 and 14.1-40 as well as Eph 4.1-16 all depict a multiplicity that works together under the dynamic leadership of Jesus. In the Church, we're all connected to our head, and each part is as important as any other part. Relationship and mutuality are thereby highlighted. Likewise, images from the Johannine literature include such living and dynamic metaphors as being gathered by Jesus into a flock and abiding in Jesus as branches are connected to the vine (Jn 10.16; 15.1-17). Fluidity, connectedness, and mutuality -- those are are central themes when it comes to understand what the Church is in the New Testament.
What's more, charisma and structure go hand in hand. If we take John 14-16 seriously, the Spirit-based working of Jesus in the community leads us truth, convicting of sin and leads us into right living. The models of leadership that we have in the community must honor that work, or else that leadership is itself foreign to the Spirit of Jesus.
Beyond the Gospels, there are plenty of accounts of leadership in the New Testament that honor this relationship of mutuality and connectedness, charisma and structure. Think Acts 15. When faced with a major decision about its mission, about who speaks for God's notion of leadership in the community, everyone has a chance to speak, and only then is unity achieved. They waited long enough to discern a common understanding. That's the sort of vision of leadership which genuine Christian unity demands. So it's not a surprise to have Peter intimately connected to that story.
It also serves as a vision for what we might accomplish in our own understanding of the Papacy. In it, we might find a person who constantly points to Jesus as Lord, who reminds us visibly and physically of the unity we have in Jesus, and serves as an office of prayer and discernment. It isn't about the power of uniformity. It's about the power of unity.
Yesterday, I characterized this choice as the choice between the power of Caesar's throne or Jesus' cross. I think this choice is the genuine answer to Jesus' prayer for unity in John 17.
It's obvious that Christians are fractured and divided. It's obvious that there are plenty of genuine obstacles to unity. But it's also possible that the Church can be faithful to following Jesus, the Lord. Organizationally, theologically, morally, sacramentally, proclamationally -- there's a lot to get in the way. But what I'm advocating here is a radical return to the vision of the New Testament as regards that unity and its leadership.
I've maintained all along that if you're focusing on the sins of any one man -- even the Pope -- you're missing the point. As flawed as I am -- and I have many, many flaws -- I am attempting to serve my Master. Sure, matters of morality are important. I'm not diminishing them. But when attention is placed solely on the leadership of the Church, we're buying into a false image of what the Church is.
If we take the New Testament as a guide, there are some markers to guide our conversation about what the Church is and how to understand it, and the leaders of it:
First, there's John 10. There, we discover some key principles:
- Jesus first declares the character of intimate knowing between himself and his authentic sheep. He knows his own, and they know him -- just as he knows and is known by the Father. As the Good Shepherd, he lays down his life for his sheep (Jn 10.14-15).
- Second, Jesus acknowledges the diversity-and-unity of his flock. He has sheep yet to gather that are not of this fold, which he desires to bring into the fold that there might be one fold and one Shepherd. This implies the priority of Christian outreach -- inviting our joining Jesus in the ingathering of the scattered flock of God across the bounds of space and outward measures (Jn 10.16).
- Third, Jesus explains the division of his true sheep from those who are not. Those who refuse to receive the divine initiative embodied in Jesus reject his signs and that which they signify -- his being sent from God. Conversely, those who attend his voice and are known by Jesus follow him, and they are members of his authentic flock (Jn 10.25-27). These statements force us to reconsider a view of the invisible Church as being contained concentrically within the circle of the visible Church. There are some members of Jesus' flock who are not currently found within our visible boundaries of the organized Church, and yet they attend the authentic voice of Jesus. Likewise, those who might appear to be inside the fold, but who neither attend the voice of Christ nor follow him, are not part of the authentic and invisible flock. Whatever the case, Jesus affirms the concern for the scattered flock of God across worldly boundaries and invites us into partnership with him in gathering them into one flock, under One Shepherd.
Then, there's John 17.
- Jesus first prays for the unity of his followers as a function of God's protection. He protected his own while he was with them personally, that none of them should be lost, but upon his departure he entrusts them to the Father’s care that they would be protected by the power of God’s name (and thus authority) so that they may be one as Jesus and the Father are one (Jn 17.11-12).
- Jesus then prays not only for those who were with them during his earthly ministry, but he prays for all believers across the spans of time who would believe on their behalf. In that sense, he prays for all generations of believers, including present ones, that they may be one as Jesus and the Father are one (Jn 17.20-21).
- The character of this unity is love, revealed before the foundation of the earth, and the result of Christian unity is that the world will know that Jesus' having been sent by the Father is an authentic commission. Therefore, the glory given the Son by the Father is passed on to believers that they may be one as the Son and the Father are one with the result that the love of the Father and the Son and the believers will be made known to the world (Jn 17.22-24). From age to age, the unifying work of Christ functions by the love of the Father for the Son and the obedience of the Son to the Father, which when shared by believers, immerses them in that love and thereby implicates them in that same eschatological mission. Therefore, the unity of the Church across the bounds of time is made manifest to the world by believers' making known to the world the love of the Father and the Son, which is the Holy Spirit.
_____________
* Most of my peers remember me, even as a student, fashioning my theology around the confession, "Jesus is Lord". I owe a huge debt to Karl Barth for that. And should acknowledge that here, yet again.
