Viewpoint The Spirit works on both sides of dispute
By KENNETH PARKER
Like most pew-warming Catholics, I
rarely remember homilies past the offertory. Its not that I dont
care -- I am a professor of theology, after all. Its just that with small
boys on my lap, bills to juggle and a house and car that always need repairs,
Im preoccupied. This past Triduum was different. Maybe its because
my third child was baptized or that my wife was received into the church and
confirmed a Roman Catholic. Perhaps the meeting with my bishop earlier that
week had something to do with it. All I can tell you is that the Holy Thursday
message I heard still rings in my ears almost two months later, particularly
its revelance to recent developments in implementing Ex Corde
Ecclesiae.
The homilist that evening is provincial of a religious order, a
man I revere as wise and holy. He preached eloquently about the dilemma of
Caiaphas, the spiritual leader of an oppressed people, who decided expedience
required that one man should die rather than risk unrest. The homilist analyzed
factors Caiaphas weighed and stated with disturbing gravity, Had I been
in Caiaphas shoes, I would have done the same. The preacher himself
sounded oppressed as he spoke of the obligations institutional spiritual
leaders have and the judgement calls they must make. He concluded with a moving
request: This Good Friday say a prayer for the Caiaphases of our
world.
I have a fertile imagination, the curse of many in my trade, and
all sorts of uninvited analogies with our church came to mind: a
people bound together by no cultural or ethnic cohesion; centralized
authority with power emanating from Rome; regions of unrest that smolder on the
edge of rebellion; delegated leadership that implements policy despite personal
conviction.
The Caiaphas of Johns Gospel is a villain. Yet viewed in the
context of his times, he made logical and prudent choices. The man who stood
before him looked like so many others from the recent past. Some had led
political movements; others had inspired radical religious fervor. Caiaphas
knew his job: He led a people whose survival depended on submission to a
distant power. Jesus was just one more threat to that tenuous peace.
The Caiaphases of our church are sometimes painted as villains
(even in the pages of this weekly). Yet their goals are at least as sincere.
There are many strange voices in the wildernesses of our global communion that
threaten the church as it is. Our Caiaphases know their job: The
survival of their local churches depends on universal submission to a distant
power. A feminist scholar here or a liberation theologian there are threats to
that tenuous peace.
The Jesus of Johns Gospel is a hero. Yet viewed in the
context of his times, he was a menace. He had entered Jerusalem just days
before, surrounded by followers who mixed politics with religion. He had
instigated a riot in the temple. Caiaphas knew that he came from Nazareth --
and nothing important happened there! Jesus was a small sacrifice weighed
against the survival of the Jews and the temple where Caiaphas functioned as
chief priest.
Lay theologians who challenge aspects of our church as it is are
sometimes portrayed as heroes (especially in the pages of this weekly). Yet
they are a danger to the way things are. They attract
followers who mix contemporary concerns with religion. Our Caiaphases know they
come from the backwaters of our global communion (unimportant places like Asia,
South America -- even Africa, Australia, and North America). They are a small
sacrifice weighed against our preservation as a people and the integrity of
sacramental priesthood as it is.
With the luxury of hindsight, one can see flaws in Caiaphas
logic. His choices only delayed a massive rebellion and crushing reprisals from
Rome. The Jewish people were scattered, and the temple was destroyed. Rabbinic
Judaism reconstructed a faith practice devoid of temple worship. It was
radically different from the tradition Caiaphas had sought to protect.
We do not know whether the Caiaphases of our church reason with
impeccable insight (though John Paul IIs public apologies for past
transgressions suggest perfection eludes our leaders). Will their choices
simply delay a massive rebellion and destructive conflict? Will our church
re-form into a very different faith practice in the wake of such turmoil? Would
our Caiaphases recognize the future as the present they had sought to
protect?
I love and admire the man who identified with Caiaphas on Holy
Thursday. He faces challenges that are not mine. He must make choices I need
not make. He must cooperate with policies that violate his personal
convictions. I dont doubt that he does what he must, given his station in
life. I do not question his motives, for he wants the church to survive into
the next generation. If I extend this charity to a friend I know, surely I must
do the same toward the many who share his station in life.
If not for Ex Corde Ecclesiae and the requirement to seek a
mandatum, I would no doubt be content to warm my pew on Sunday, care for
my babies and worry about bills and repairs. This is the ordinary rhythm of my
chosen station in life.
Yet the guidelines implementing Ex Corde Ecclesiae remind
me that I also serve the church. These documents press upon me a harsh and
painful truth: My work is not delegated to me by my bishop. I study, teach and
publish theology by virtue of my baptism. Like all baptized believers, I am
called to seek understanding of the faith I have received. It is not my calling
to protect our church as it is. As a lay theologian, it is my vocation to speak
the truth I find -- flawed and limited as it may be. My colleagues and I are
like those dangerous voices on the margins of first-century Judaism. We are
sometimes a menace to the way things are.
I puzzle about this as I look toward the future. Do I have the
courage to follow Jesus example? Can I take up crosses laid on my back by
the Caiaphases of my world? Or will I follow Peters example that first
Holy Thursday and deny the man I love most of all? Will it someday be expedient
to sacrifice me, in a vain attempt to avoid unrest in the church?
I have been praying for the Caiaphases of our world. I hope that
they are praying for me. I believe that the Holy Spirit can lead us all away
from the temptation to duplicity, and into her wisdom, compassion, and love.
This is the faith I have received -- the faith I seek to understand.
Kenneth Parker is associate professor of historical theology at
St. Louis University.
National Catholic Reporter, July 13,
2001
|