Category Archives: The Pope

Does Reunion Include Dissolution?

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Vatican IIThe Second Vatican Council met in the autumn months between 1962 and 1965. Therefore, some fiftieth anniversaries have already come and gone: the Council’s opening, the death of Pope St. John XXIII, and the election of Paul VI. Saint Joseph’s College has contributed its own recognition. This year and next, though, will mark the real fiftieth anniversaries—the passing of conciliar documents like Lumen Gentium, the Dogmatic Constitution of the Church, and Gaudium et Spes, the Pastoral Constitution of the Church in the Modern World. When you hear or read somebody comment “Vatican II revolutionized the Church,” these documents provide the sparks for that change. We do not suffer a shortage of accounts detailing the changes of Vatican II and their impact throughout the Church. As many of us know, conciliar enthusiasm has not swept everybody off their feet. Perhaps that is why these fiftieth anniversaries of the Council are so important. We are still, as Peter Huff has said, “on the sacred mountain,” seeking to make sense of the Council and its legacy.

Another conciliar document witnessing its golden anniversary this November is Unitatis Redintegratio, the Council’s decree on ecumenism. St. John’s Gospel includes Christ’s prayer to the Father that all His followers may be one, just as He and the Father are one (17:21). So, after the Church’s self-assessment (Lumen Gentium) but before turning its attention to the modern world, the Council duly considered the readily evident fact that Christianity stood torn asunder, represented by many churches instead of one, true, unified Church. Addressing and correcting this sad reality figured among Pope St. John XXIII’s inspiration for the Council. While he did not live to see its promulgation, Unitatis Redintegratio aptly addressed Pope John’s hope.   Non-Catholic Christians were recognized as possessing some, but not all, elements of the Gospel (#3). Furthermore, the Catholic faithful—lay and clergy—are called to “recognize the signs of the times and to take an active and intelligent part” in ecumenical work (#4). Honestly studying the beliefs of other Christians is no longer the purview of a specialized academic few, but now expected of everybody (#9).

Each conciliar document poses so many questions and new avenues of discovery, and Unitatis Redintegratio does not disappoint. A simple one might be: Do we thus give up everything for the Council’s vision? Out with the old, in with the new? Within twenty years of the Council’s conclusion some Catholic theologians called for a complete reorganization of the Church’s perception of itself and other churches and religious traditions. From now on, the argument went, being truly Christian meant de-emphasizing uniquely Christian elements and eschewing many proudly Catholic expressions. So it seemed that Roman Catholic Christian renewal involved dissolving oneself, or at least one’s ecclesiology and theology.

True to form, though, Unitatis Redintegratio contains answers to the very questions it has prompted. The Council fathers made very clear that while common prayer might foster unity, common worship services could often give the wrong impression. Catholics should remain Catholic, while Baptists, Presbyterians, and Pentecostals attended their own affairs (#8). Common concerns such as feeding the poor and serving those afflicted by disaster, though, demonstrated to the world that unity for which Christ had prayed (#12). Finally, almost twenty years ago Pope St. John Paul II addressed the Council’s call to ecumenical dialogue. The papacy, so long a visible obstacle to Protestants, still could serve the pursuit of unity. Some critics seemed dismayed that Catholic intransigence had, once again, reared its ugly head. But John Paul’s reaffirmation of the Council should not have surprised many. Unitatis itself had declared: “Every renewal of the Church essentially consists in an increase of fidelity to her own calling” (#6). That call included the realization that God alone can bring about true Christian unity (#24). Therefore, the road to reunion runs right through the heart of the Church itself.

Guest blogger Jeffrey Marlett blogs at Spiritual Diabetes.

Love and Education

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On Father’s Day, I posted a piece on God’s paternal love for us, drawing from both the Hebrew Scriptures (Ex 34:6-8) and the New Testament (Lk 15:11-32). Recently, I read a presentation delivered by Pope Francis, then Cardinal Bergoglio, entitled “The Educational Process” which describes the relationship between teacher and student in similar terms. In this paper, Pope Francis describes the difficulties which teachers, especially college and university professors, can encounter that derive from the contemporary culture which we inhabit. These difficulties include facing special interests within the educational system which “are alien to education itself,” and the ever-increasing phenomenon of the participants in the educational process (i.e., students, teachers, and parents) becoming disengaged with their own formation and the formation of those in their charge. “We have become spectators,” Pope Francis writes, “and ceased to be protagonists of our personal history and our life.”

Supper at EmmausTo bridge these divisions, Pope Francis proposes a pedagogy of “encounter.” By this he means that the educational process ought to be characterized by a type of love. Drawing from the New Testament, and the Greek learning inherited by the early Church, Pope Francis distinguishes between three types of love. Eros is a type of love which seeks its own satisfaction. Naturally, it has come to be associated with romantic love but is certainly not limited to that sphere. Whenever we have a deep desire which seeks consummation – and many of the mystics speak of the transformation and sanctification of this desire for God – it is, so to speak, erotic. Agape, on the other hand, is a type of love which is self-sacrificing. It expects nothing in return, but wills the good of the other. Christ’s self-sacrifice on the cross is the example par excellence of agapic love; so much so that, in the early Church, the commemoration of Christ’s sacrifice in the Eucharist was referred to as the ‘love (agape) feast.’

School of AthensBut education is not built upon either of these senses of love. A third type of love, which is the foundation of a pedagogy of “encounter,” is philia. Derived from the Greek word for ‘friend,’ philia is a love which is neither totally self-seeking nor totally self-sacrificing. Rather, philial love is given with the expectation of reciprocity; thereby forming a communion of persons. “It is a love of relationship,” Pope Francis writes, “participation, communication, and friendship.” Pope Francis is not advocating, however, that professors become “BFF’s” with their students. Philial love in this context is characterized by a concern for the good of the student and a recognition of the good in the teacher. It is much closer to the relationship between a parent and a child than the relationship of peers to each other. It is, one might say, covenantal.

Pope Francis sees this love as the foundation of a pedagogy of “encounter” because it is only within this type of friendship that both teacher and student can “encounter” each other as persons. Within this friendship, the student is not simply ‘student x,’ but Joseph. The teacher is not simply ‘my professor for subject y,’ but Dr. Mary. Again, as Pope Francis writes: “For this educational encounter to happen, we teachers […] need affection. Trust in your affection. Love what you do and love your students.”

Christs Charge to PeterIn closing, the type of love which Pope Francis speaks of as the foundation of education is most uniquely illustrated at the end of St. John’s Gospel (21:15-19). After his glorious resurrection, Jesus asks Peter three times if he loves him. Naturally, and as one reads in every scriptural commentary on this passage, Jesus asks this question of Peter three times as a way of redeeming Peter’s three denials of him on Holy Thursday. But what is lost to the English reader is that Jesus asks Peter if he ‘loves’ (agapas) him twice. The final question to Peter is: “Do you love (phileis) me?” In other words, Jesus twice asks Peter if he would sacrifice himself for him, but on the third occasion he asks Peter: “But are we friends?” It is not enough for Peter to repent of his denials by offering himself for Jesus. No. In order to “tend Jesus’ sheep,” the two must have an active, living relationship: a friendship. In order to form others in Christ, one cannot simply view one’s ministry as a sacrifice. There must be present a friendship with Christ that one wishes to share with others. Similarly, a true education cannot be founded solely upon the idea of serving the other – let alone the simple communication of data – but upon a living and relational encounter: a friendship.

Anthony Coleman teaches theology for Saint Joseph’s College Online.