Ecumenism of Hate?

It's not every day that the Roman Catholic pope suggests magazine articles for the faithful to read.

But that's just what Pope Francis did during a recent meeting with Jesuits in Mozambique and Madagascar.

In this blog post, I'm looking at the section subtitled "Fundamentalist Ecumenism" in one of those articles. It appears in Evangelical Fundamentalism and Catholic Integralism: A Surprising Ecumenism.

The authors are Antonio Spadaro, a Jesuit Catholic priest, and Marcelo Figueroa, a Presbyterian pastor from Argentina who is a close associate of the pope.

Their core argument is fascinating and thought-provoking:  In the USA, there are religious groups who have no interest in an ecumenical relationship with each other but who still join together to advocate for common causes. The groups mentioned in this article are those on the conservative right--that includes some Catholics integralists as well as some Evangelicals, Pentecostals and Protestants on the religious right.

Overall, both groups are cold at best--and hostile at worst--to ecumenism. Yet, here they are working together.

The expression given to this kind of relationship:  Ecumenism of hatred.

At first, I thought this was an extreme description. After all, "hatred" is a pretty extreme word! Further, I have known many Catholics and evangelicals who have grown to respect each other through this work, even if they didn't begin that way. Is that a fair way to describe them?

It is an ecumenism of hate because, well, technically speaking, these groups hate each other.

That is indeed a strong word. What I mean is:  They "hate" each other in the sense that neither thinks the other has anything of value, at least nothing that the other side doesn't already have. Neither is really interested in getting to know the other.  Both sides hold that they--and only they--have the truth in a singular way. They have no interest in getting to know the other on one's own terms.  The only valuable conversation between them would be for the purposes of proselytizing in order to destroy what is unique about the other and mold them into our version of ourselves. These groups are for all practical purposes competitors. Despite this, they are willing to work together to pursue this common vision, even though their common vision ultimately excludes each other! If either side were to dominate they would gladly snuff out the other. Despite this, the Catholics have adopted an evangelical world view and visa versa. It's a very strange set-up if you look at it this way.

By contrast, a true relationship of traditional ecumenism is about "inclusion, peace, encounter and bridges" to use language from the article. In a truly ecumenical relationship, both sides are open to the other. Each would be receptive to what the other may bring to the table. You make room for each other. There is respect for each other. There is a hope and a sense that another group brings something of value, perhaps something that both may need. Perhaps another groups just shows the vastness of God in new, unimagined ways.

However, this ecumenical approach is seen as problematic if you already believe you have it all so nearly contained in a particular box so that no further dialogue is necessary. The only communication left in this scenario is to proselytize--in other words, to get the other to leave their box and enter your box.  The only goal here is to obliterate the other. Again, that may also seem like a strong word, but if the only goal is mold the other into what you want for them, then it truly is a fair description. Ecumenism, on the other hand, is a way to grow in awe and wonder and to respect each other as we already are.  We can and will still certainly disagree on some things while still being open to one another.

That kind of thinking is not possible when groups believe that the totality of truth is contained in their locked sphere to such an extent that they determine there is nothing of value in the other.

Is Ecumenism Incompatible with Religious Conviction?

Some people worry that ecumenism and having religious convictions are incompatible. They worry that ecumenism just leads to a watering down or a denial of the truth of a particular religious tradition. The worry that ecumenism presents a zero sum formula: The more we affirm the value in another denomination the more we are reducing the value of our own.

Not so.

I see ecumenism not in zero sum terms but more like a rising tide that lift all boats. It is a way to grow in awe and wonder. Personally speaking, my ecumenical relationship have only deepened my own relationship with my own faith tradition. Many other ecumenists have said very similar things.

One can still hold convictions while still respecting the gifts that others bring and can still be open to new insights and new ways that God is working in others. But mostly an ecumenical relationship just means being open to and interested in others and entering into a dialogue as equals from the standpoint of true respect.

More Catholic than the Pope?

It used to be that no one questioned the Catholicity of the Catholic pope, but in these days of internet conspiracies little is surprising in that regard, anymore. Nevertheless, all reasonable people should agree that the pope is one of the most Catholic people there is, if not the most.

In light of that, it is worth mentioning that all recent Catholic popes have been strong ecumenists. Their openness to truly encounter another person on their own terms did not threaten their Catholic standing. If even the most Catholic of all the Catholics can be ecumenical without becoming less Catholic, then we should all be able to move forward into ecumenical relationships without fear!

Left vs Right?

"Ecumenism of hate" is not necessarily a commentary on the specific causes that these groups are advocating for, such as abortion, religious freedom, etc. However, the article does exercise cautions in approaches that would blend the church and state in theocratic ways--that is partly due to the fact that religious groups so often get manipulated by political forces even when they think they are the ones doing the influencing. However, this commentary is less about the validity of right vs left as it is about the approach. The concern is when people join forces with others absent a true spirit of ecumenical cooperation.

Even though certain conservative culture warriors are the examples given in the article, it is worth asking if other groups also fall into these same tendencies. Or is this a tendency seen more on the right? In general, ecumenism is far less popular with conservatives of all denominations. However, that doesn't exclude moderates and those on the left from also having "put a wall where a bridge should be", to paraphrase the pope. It may be a constant challenge for each of us to critically reflect on all the ways we dismiss the other and avoid true encounter with one another and ultimate with God.

Ecumenism = Necessary

The #1 takeaway I have from this article is that ecumenism is necessary. 

If we don't engage each other in true respect, openness, dialogue and peace, then logically speaking, we otherwise dismiss their value and are engaged with them in a witness of mutual elimination, exclusion and overt competition. We run the risk of falling into a narrow fundamentalism that doesn't permit the light of wisdom to enter and does not honor the space for the Holy Spirit to work. In this way, ecumenism is simply not optional. It is a challenge and part of the "permanent mission of the Church," as other Catholic popes have articulated. We can never stop being open to each other and engaging each other in true dialogue and respect.  If we don't, we are not neutral but rather hostile to one another by the very fact that we deny the presence of any value in the other. This is the challenge before us!

Pope Francis, the Death Penalty, the 2nd Amendment and Fundamentalism

It reads like a headline from the Babylon Bee: 

Catholics Upset Because Pope Francis Doesn't Want Them To Kill People Anymore.

The truth is often stranger than fiction, as the saying goes.

Pope Francis has recently updated Catholic Church teaching by declaring that the death penalty is "inadmissible."

Controversy has erupted. Some argue over whether Church teaching can truly "change" at all. Others take issues with the updated teaching itself.

I wonder why so many people seem to want the death penalty. I can understand (though not necessarily agree with) the argument that the death penalty may at some times be regrettably necessary. But even so, it should always be a last resort and something very sad. It means all other options have failed (and that those other options have been tried and tried again), and that's nothing to celebrate. I wish I saw as much passion from people working hard for envision alternatives to the death penalty as I do from those who want to keep it.

Still, I've been struggling with trying to figure out what actually happened with Francis' pronouncement. I wholeheartedly support the Church moving more clearly in the direction of love, life and nonviolence, but when I try to "work out the theological math" so to speak, I have been left skeptical. My issues have nothing do with whether or not doctrine can develop (as some argue), because I'm convinced it can and has (see below under the section "Fundamentalism"). My questions are about the theological implications of the pronouncement itself.

Here's why:

If the death penalty is "inadmissible" in every single case and condition--including cases of absolute self-defense--then the Catholic Church has taken a step toward a paradigm of nonviolence and pacifism. That would be huge.

If not, then what has happened is that Francis has simply clarified the teaching that was already there and changed the wording to prevent misunderstandings. The real leap forward came with Pope John Paul II.

As I explained in a previous article, the death penalty has already been de facto inadmissible in the previous version of the Catholic Catechism. That Catechism contains this line: "the traditional teaching of the Church does not exclude recourse to the death penalty." However, what follows is a very strict conditional clause: "if this is the only possible way of effectively defending human lives against the unjust aggressor." It even goes on to spell out that such cases where the death penalty could be admissible in modern society "are very rare, if not practically nonexistent." If that weren't enough, the Catholic Church even put this section about the death penalty under the category of "Legitimate Defense" just to make sure there would be no confusion. 

In short: The Church is not supporting the right of nations to dole out God's punishments, but it does not deny the right to legitimate defense, even if such instances are only hypothetical in the modern world.

For reasons that I have a hard time understanding, many people took that to mean the death penalty was still up for debate. It's not. Simple reading comprehension will tell you that. And this was long before Francis.

The U.S. 2nd Amendment and Other Matters of Interpretation

Church teaching is one thing; how that teaching is interpreted is wholly another.

Catholic blogger Jack Quirk penned a blog entry that gets to the heart of the matter. He mentions how Francis' update to the Catechism negates "prudential judgment" interpretations. This is key. Many take some parts of Catholic Church teaching more literally than other parts. To that latter category, they apply "prudential judgment," which is a fancy way of saying they take the teaching prayerfully and seriously but not authoritatively or literally. Francis is saying that you cannot apply prudential judgment to this teaching--it speaks from a higher level of authority.

In addition, a lot of people were reading the Catechism on the death penalty the way many American conservatives currently read the 2nd amendment: They read the first part divorced from the second part in a manner reminiscent of Justice Scalia. In the 2nd amendment, the opening clauses states that the people have to right to bear arms, but that right is nestled within the necessary condition of a well-regulated militia. Most Constitutional scholars have read it that way since the passing of the Bill of Rights. However, the more recent Scalia style of interpretation separates the first part from the latter context. In other words, the "right to bear arms" now stands alone, largely divorced from its context, namely, the condition of a "well-regulated militia."

Many apply that same interpretative style to the Catholic Catechism on the death penalty. As stated above, the first part says that yes, the Church cannot totally rule out the use of the death penalty. But then there is the conditional clause: There must be no other way to save lives and/or protect the common good. With current resources for incarceration and sociological studies overwhelmingly denouncing the death penalty as a deterrent, it is almost impossible to claim the death penalty is "necessary" for protection. However, many Catholics just read the first part saying the Church cannot rule out the use of the death penalty and stood it on its own. They regarded the prevalence of executions through history as the backing of tradition and they just ignored or downplayed the second part about necessary defense. The door was open just a tiny crack but they attempted to drive a truck through it. That's the problem Francis was trying to address, I think.

If we read carefully the previous Catechism, the death penalty is not actually supported--only self-defense is a legitimate use of force, not the death penalty. However, the previous Catechism seems timid about saying that outright, even though that's really the only logical conclusion to take from the text itself. So I see Francis as saying 'let's quit beating around the bush and just tell it like it is.' I don't think Francis is taking away the option for "legitimate defense" and moving the Church towards pacifism, even though he may personally want to do that and I would be sympathetic to that, as well, but that would be a rather significant can of worms to open. 

Maybe I'm wrong and Francis has indeed introduced pacifism. Case in point: Moral theologians will say that through "double effect" reasoning, an execution--which is "inadmissible"--could still happen, but the primary motive would be to protect the common good and the death of the prisoner would be a regrettable secondary outcome. Others (like Stephen Schloeder) argue that Francis has put the death penalty into a category that makes double effect reasoning null and void, as "inadmissible" sounds a lot like "intrinsically evil." This is fodder for moral theologians to hash out in the coming years.

I believe all that Francis did was try to put an end to opportunistic readings of the Catechism in regards to the death penalty. The Church is against it and this is authoritatively said--no more prudential judgment readings nor separating out isolated statements out of their context.

Fundamentalism

Most of the controversy about this move by Francis is over whether doctrine can truly "change" at all. Some claim that everything that appears to be a change in Church teaching is only an adaptation to the signs of the times and not actual doctrinal evolution. Others--especially Church historians--cite instances of legitimate change in Church teaching over its 2,000+ year pilgrim journey.

The whole controversy over doctrinal development is really just the Catholic Church wrestling with its own form of fundamentalism.  In Protestant Fundamentalism, the defining issue is the literal interpretation of the Bible. In Catholic fundamentalism, the claim of fundamentalists is that the teaching authority of the Church (the Magisterium) can never be wrong on matters of faith and morals. Both camps deny history, deny the written word and bend over backwards to try to make all the pieces fit, instead of just admitting that an absolute, unchanging, literal interpretation of either Scripture of Magisterial pronouncements is the actual error.

Just War Theory

Many have noted the similarities between the theologies of the death penalty and Just War Theory. A change in one could bring about a change in the other. Stay tuned . . .

Should Bloggers Smell like the Sheep, too?

Pope Francis is famous for saying that priests (and presumably other church leaders and ministers) should "be shepherds living with the smell of the sheep." This statement is often repeated and resonates like a mantra. And rightly so—it reflects a powerful vision of accompaniment, solidarity and servant leadership.

The statement has been greeted with proverbial cheers by the masses who know all too well the problems that can arise when church leaders are too distant from the lives of the people they are attempting to shepherd.

Leaders—especially those who aspire to imitate Christ—lead best when they are close to the people. This closeness can be expressed in many ways, from sharing in the same lifestyle, sharing in the sufferings and just being geographically close.

I’m privileged to work for an organization that lives this out very well. The missionary priests, brothers and lay co-workers of GlenmaryHome Missioners walk close to the people they serve in the small towns and hollers of the rural US South.

However, Pope Francis has made another, very similar statement that has failed to grab the imagination of the people the way the first one has. It was initially shared by Catholic media but has all but disappeared with the passing news cycle.

Pope Francis has also said theologians should also "smell of the people and of the road."

The second clause is great emphasis:  Not only are theologians charged with having the smell of the people, but Francis also thinks they need to be on the road. In other words, they need to be out there in the muck and mire of the world, rather than some secluded office. He doesn't use the word "sheep" here presumably because academics are not necessarily pastors, but to the extent that we all minister to each other, we are both sheep and shepherd at times.

Admittedly, Francis shared this statement in quite a different format than the one about clerics. The first statement was said in one of his first Masses as pope when he had the world's attention. The second was in a letter to faculty at a university in Argentina two years into his pontificate. Still, I tend to believe that the statement could have taken on the urgency of the first if only we had ears to hear. Other offhanded comments by Francis have captured the world's attention, after all.

Perhaps the statement about theologians has been forgotten because it points the finger at a great many of us. I take his comment to apply not just to professional academics but also to us amateur and professional bloggers and commentators on the faith—in other words, just about all of us. It’s easy to point the fingers at those church leaders—it’s harder to point the finger at ourselves.

Everyone has different gifts. Some are thinkers. Some are healers. Some are pastors. Some are activists. Some are janitors, dish washers, nurses and mentors. However, there is something amiss when a life is completely un-integrated—for example, when someone is predominately a thinker and little else. I have known people who are profound theologians who flounder—if they bother to make any attempt at all—at integrating any of that theological insight into their lifestyle and actions. One of my first mentors was one such person. Probably the greatest lesson he taught me was the one he didn't intend. I have worked hard in the years since to see his example as a cautionary tale. There are reasons, of course, why people become so fragmented, and my intention is to learn from them without judging too harshly.

People love the Church Mothers and Fathers. These were great writers and holy people from the very early Church. Even 2,000 years later, their writings are still powerful and capture our attention. One thing that just about all of these people had in common was they seemed to display a very integrated faith life. They were profound theologians. They also lived holy lives. Some wrote—literally—on the road to martyrdom. They lived lives of sacrifice, dedication, some in solidarity with the poor and doing what we would refer to today as "activism." Their lived experience was not simply in addition to their theology—rather, it seems their theology was all the stronger because of this lived experience.

A biblical scholar once noticeably scoffed at me when I suggested that Fr. Daniel Berrigan's exploration of the Book of Job was one of the most helpful in my scholarly studies of the book. As an activist priest who has been very close to suffering all this life, including spending years in prison for the cause of the gospel, perhaps Fr. Berrigan had a better chance of truly understanding the message of Job than an academic sitting alone in a comfortable library. Rigorous academic study is important (as I'm sure Berrigan would have agreed), but it is worth asking whether we can truly understand the biblical texts outside of a lived experience of suffering, oppression and the other contexts out of which the biblical authors wrote? In other words, can you truly understand Job if you don't, well, smell like Job?

I've had suffering in my life, but I am quite comfortable today writing in my warm home on a mild Ohio day. It's hard to willingly leave my comfort zone to be close to the ones I am ministering to, whether that involves suffering, oppression or simply change and discomfort. But that is why Francis' words are a much needed challenge to me and perhaps also to a great many of us. They help me examine the ways I have—and more importantly, have not—theologized from a position of closeness to the sheep while being out there on the road.

2 Takeaways from Pope Francis Statement on Capital Punishment

Pope Francis recently made bold comments on capital punishment. He called it "contrary to the gospel" and flat out "inadmissible." In these words, we are seeing the culmination of what's been building over the course of several pontificates—John Paul II, especially, but other popes, as well.

There are, at least, two developments happening in Church teaching that I see:

1. Defense, Not Punishment. I assume that Catholic theology would still support some executions if they meet the conditions for the moral category of "necessary defense."  

What I think Pope Francis is saying is that if the death penalty is administered to defend human lives, then it is not actually the death "penalty" at all. It's not done as a punishment. Through double-effect reasoning, the intention would be to protect life rather than to punish wrongdoings. If somehow God's justice if done through this, that's frankly none of our business.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church comes very close to saying this. However, the language is muddy enough to allow confusion: "The traditional teaching of the Church does not exclude recourse to the death penalty, if this is the only possible way of effectively defending human lives against the unjust aggressor" [See Catechism, #2267, emphasis added by me.]

The clause that begins with "if" seems to be lost on supporters of the death penalty. The state is not charged with doling out God's punishment. Take away the necessary aspect of defense and the act of executing an aggressor loses any moral justification.

The classic example is a wagon train moving westward in the mid 1800s American frontier. If someone attacks the wagon train and puts the lives of others at risk, the pioneers may have no choice other than to execute the attacker, even if they successfully capture him. There are no prisons to speak of or even any law enforcement at all. They simply don't have the resources to render the attacker "harmless." They have every reason to believe that if they were to release him he's simply going to kill again. As unfortunate as it may be, execution may be the only option to protect the lives of the pioneering party. This is, however, not an act of carrying out God's justice by doling out punishment; rather, it's primarily an act of self-defense—doing what is necessary to protect the common good.

I'd still like to believe that Jesus has opened up a way that would not require any violence, even in the most tragic circumstances. It would also not surprise me in the least if Francis were completely nonviolent himself. However, traditional Catholic teaching has supported the use of some violence in limited circumstances to protect the common good, and I don't read Francis as contradicting that.

2. The State is Not the Arbiter of God Justice. Francis is distancing the Church from the unfortunate theology that sees the state as the administrator of the justice of God. Proponents of this theology like to cite Roman chapter 13 as a proof text.  However, they are forgetting the larger, more consistent biblical message that only God is the Lord over life and death (see 1 Samuel 2:6 and Deuteronomy 32:39).  

The notion that the political state is always* the administrator of God's justice is seriously problematic at best and absurd at worst *("always" added later due to comments below).

The church has always respected the role that governments play and acknowledges they have a legitimate realm of decision-making—true. Governments are charged with protecting the common good, and to the extent that they do that, they may indeed be a conduit for the goodness of God—absolutely. That is why Christians can and should prophetically challenge governments in our quest to make way for the Kingdom of God.  

But given the evil in the world perpetuated by governments, to say that governments are sanctioned by God to do what they do is to deny the obvious. Governments made legal the practice of human trafficking in the form of slavery. The government of Nazi Germany attempted the extermination of the Jewish people and ended up killing over 6 million people in death camps. The government of communist USSR killed millions and sent untold numbers of thinkers, artists and outcasts to die in Siberian work camps. The list could go on and on of heinous acts carried out under the mantle of "justice" by various state entities.

The human tendency to abuse power is bad enough without the underlying (false) belief that this power is sanctioned by God.

What is "sinful" and what is "illegal" are not always the same thing. For example, most governments no longer punish adultery outright through the courts, yet it still remains one of the most serious sins for a Christian. Yet, few people still believe it is the job of the government to settle the score on behalf of God. Adultery is a wound that needs considerable work to heal and atone for, but few see the government as having the authority to do that. In a likewise manner, a murderer does indeed have issues to account for with the victims and with God, but it is not necessarily the job of the state to settle every bit of that.

Christians apply Romans 13 very selectively. It seems to only pertain to the death penalty and a few other affairs but they fail to bring it up on any number of other issues. It makes no sense that we should just blindly submit to the state when it is conducting executions yet challenge the government on everything else it does. Besides, it surprises me that many of the same people who mistrust the government implicitly on just about everything seem to blindly trust the same government to make decisions of life and death in a very flawed criminal justice system.

Pope Francis is making it clear that governments cannot claim Catholic Church support for executions any longer. Francis is on solid ground to state that the Church revokes all support for the death penalty. The Church would not deny the state the right to punish criminals. But it is saying that punishing with an execution is not moral:  The right to life of the convinced criminals, coupled with the opportunity to repent and reform, should come before whatever punishment the state deems appropriate.

Is Pope Francis Against a Personal Relationship with Jesus Christ?

Pope Francis has come under fire for his comments which seem to suggest that he is against a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

His phrase, from his May 25, 2014, Weekly General Audience, can sound very antagonistic to Evangelical Christians at first:

Pope Francis described as "dangerous" the temptation to believe that one can have "a personal, direct, immediate relationship with Jesus Christ without communion with and the mediation of the church."

I was alerted to this by a comment on the Facebook page John 17:21 Evangelicals and Catholics, which I moderate. More than any other pope, Francis has earned a strong reputation for working together and praying with Evangelical Christians. I was naturally surprised to hear that he said something so potentially off-putting to that segment of the Christian community.

While I am no expert on what the Pope is thinking or feeling, I feel the need to address this. "Personal relationship with Jesus" is an extremely important phrase to many Evangelical Christians.  In addition, telling Christians that their relationship with Christ must be mediated through the Church no doubt inflames a lot of old wounds from the Protestant Reformation. The Reformers reassured us that we can go to Christ directly and that no human or institution can get in the way.

The pope actually clarified what he meant, but like so many things on the internet, one line gets taken out of context and the explanation gets forgotten. It is good to discuss what he means, though, as there is some great food for thought into how Catholics and Evangelicals think about their faith. I also recommend clicking the pope's address above and hearing in his own words what he's describing.

Like some many things that get lost, a key concept here is "only." The Pope is not suggesting that we cannot or should not have a direct, personal, intimate relationship with Jesus. In fact, his writings tell us how important it is to have that relationship. He urges all people to accept the invitation of Christ into that very relationship. But he is saying that this shouldn't be our only approach to Christian discipleship.

He is saying that we cannot do this alone. Other human beings, their writings and the church have all helped to midwife this relationship for us. Even if you have that direct relationship with Jesus, it is probably another human being who told you that this was possible. You may have read about others having that relationship. Perhaps a preacher invited you in a sermon. It is likely that your parents or a neighbor modeled what this relationship looks like. And then once you have that relationship, it is your duty to witness to this to others. Every believer is part of a community as both receiver and giver of blessings.

The Reformers are right that no human being or institution can get in the way of our own direct contact with God through Jesus Christ. But Francis is reminding us that every single one of us has also benefited from the witness, the words and the actions of fellow believers who helped us in that relationship with Christ. And then we must help others. Bottom line: It does us no good to pretend that individuals are in isolation from others.

We pray "Our Father," not "My Father," as one website pointed out. The Christian life is lived out in community, and it would be wrong to believe we are isolated human beings completely divorced from our relationships with our fellow human beings. A personal relationship is not dangerous or harmful by itself--what is dangerous is believing that our fellow human beings have no role to play in our Christian journey. It's no different than a person claiming they are a "self-made millionaire." That is a slap in the face to everyone who mentored, taught and assisted that person in making those millions.

Here are some of my own favorite words of Pope Francis.  These are from the first major doucment that he wrote after becoming pope, the apostolic exhortation Evangelii Gaudium--The Joy of the Gospel:

I invite all Christians, everywhere, at this very moment, to a renewed personal encounter with Jesus Christ, or at least an openness to letting him encounter them; I ask all of you to do this unfailingly each day. No one should think that this invitation is not meant for him or her, since “no one is excluded from the joy brought by the Lord”. The Lord does not disappoint those who take this risk; whenever we take a step towards Jesus, we come to realize that he is already there, waiting for us with open arms. Now is the time to say to Jesus: “Lord, I have let myself be deceived; in a thousand ways I have shunned your love, yet here I am once more, to renew my covenant with you. I need you. Save me once again, Lord, take me once more into your redeeming embrace”. How good it feels to come back to him whenever we are lost! Let me say this once more: God never tires of forgiving us; we are the ones who tire of seeking his mercy. Christ, who told us to forgive one another “seventy times seven” (Mt 18:22) has given us his example: he has forgiven us seventy times seven. Time and time again he bears us on his shoulders. No one can strip us of the dignity bestowed upon us by this boundless and unfailing love. With a tenderness which never disappoints, but is always capable of restoring our joy, he makes it possible for us to lift up our heads and to start anew. Let us not flee from the resurrection of Jesus, let us never give up, come what will. May nothing inspire more than his life, which impels us onwards!

The Pope Who Prioritizes

(CNS photo/Alessandro Bianchi, Reuters) From ncronline:
"Pope Francis opens the Holy Door to inaugurate the Jubilee Year
of Mercy in St. Peter's Basilica at the Vatican Dec 8."

There has been a lot of debate as to whether Pope Francis is changing Catholic doctrine or not. Early in his papacy, his approach was categorized as a "change in tone," and that phrase has stuck remarkably well. It's an often unquestioned subtitle to Francis' papacy.

“Change of tone” is a politically shrewd phrase. It has the word “change,” which excites liberals. But it also suggests that the change might be more along the lines of style and not substance, which is an attempt to reassure conservatives. Francis dances in the space between.

That phrase is helpful, but I have never found it wholly satisfactory.

I believe the papacy of Pope Francis has been, among many things, an attempt to put first things first and second things second: Francis is the pope who prioritizes.

Pope Francis affirms the centrality of a joyful, living relationship with Jesus Christ in Evangelii Gaudium. He holds up the primacy of conscience in navigating grey areas in Amoris Laetitia. Francis raises up care for creation to its rightful place in Laudato Si. He not only erases all doubt that environmental issues are merely a secondary matter but actually holds up an integral human ecology as an overarching paradigm encompassing other life issues. Throughout his papacy, Francis has asserted Catholic values of life and family while avoiding getting entrenched in the culture wars quagmire.

In a likewise fashion, I believe Francis instituted the Year of Mercy in part to search for the appropriate balance between the necessary rules of the institution and the role of love. This is to put the practices of the Church more in line with a Gospel vision. We Catholics know how to focus on rules. We don’t do as well of a job navigating in the territory of mercy. That should alarm us, given the centrality that Jesus himself gives it.

Matthew 22:40 reminds us that how the doctrines are arranged and prioritized matters immensely. When introducing the Greatest Commandment to love God and one another, Jesus adds that, "all the Law and Prophets hang on these two commandments" (Matthew 22:40). This often glossed over line provides a stunning vision if we pause to consider it. This requires more than just a change in tone or even of emphasis.

Imagine that our religious laws, customs and moral codes are like Christmas

 ornaments.  Mercy is the tree on which they all hang.  The tree not only displays them, but it helps them rise to the dignity they are meant for. The tree helps them all make sense.  Some ornaments may look good sitting by themselves on a mantle, but most of them do not function well without the tree. Without the tree they could all just as easily sit in some dusty box in an attic somewhere.

The ornaments themselves do not really make sense, nor do they serve much of a purpose, without the tree on which to hang.  This is, I believe, what the Jesus is saying in the Gospel of Matthew.  Love and mercy is the structure on which the rules and regulations of the Church hang.  Without it, they don’t make much sense. 

We may get all the rules right but if we put them in the wrong order of emphasis, or without a corresponding love, we can get it wrong.

Anyone who has spent any time immersed in the struggles of what it means to be “church” knows that there is a place for rules. Love them or hate them, they aren’t going away entirely. But how they are applied and administered can be where the error lies. Mercy has to be held in balance with the rules of the institution.

Whereas Pope Benedict XVI may have had a knack for speaking to the letter of the law, Pope Francis has the calling to speak to the infrastructure of that law, especially as it relates to mercy. As Francis puts the house in order, he has called us into a whole Church conversation about the parts of our faith and tradition that have not seen the light of day in accordance with their due and the signs of the times. These include the role of conscience, the care for our common home and mercy. 

It’s not just a kinder, gentler application of the same thing. 

It’s a vastly reordered, radically restructured system that puts Jesus first, that takes the words of Jesus seriously, that takes the Gospel seriously, and which reorders all our rules, regulations and codes in light of those fundamental truths.  It also raise mercy to its rightful place as the overarching theme, as it is the structure on which all law and prophets hang.

On Sustainability: No Need to Look Under the Hood

People are working hard to take better care of the environment. We are unraveling generations of bad practices that have unfortunately become commonplace. As Pope Francis pointed out so well in his encyclical Laudato Si, we are living in a way that is simply not sustainable. What we are taking from the earth is not being adequately replaced. The natural cycles of growth and decay are no longer in balance. Sometimes it takes a scientist to show the problems, but often we can see it for ourselves.

The word "sustainable" has just become part of our regular lingo. It's sometimes used in place of other words about the environment. As a result, we often don't pay attention to it. We should pause and consider what it means--if something is not sustainable, that means--by definition--that it cannot continue perpetually. The system will eventually run out and run dry.

If topsoil is eroding faster than it is being created, then once fertile farmlands will turn into deserts. Many of our utilities are powered by coal, but we know that coal will run out and contribute to greenhouse gases and toxic air pollution in the meantime. If we cut down trees to burn wood but do not replant new ones, we will eventually run out of trees--or at the very least, reduce how much forestland covers the earth which reduces habitat for wildlife. There are limits on these resources.

It does not require climate scientists showing mathematically sophisticated computer models to see these examples. If we accidentally dump motor oil into our morning coffee, we have polluted it. Our delicious morning brew is now undrinkable. We are simply saying that this is happening on a larger scale. For example, pollution from burning coal ruins river and lakes, and makes them unfit for swimming, fishing and for drinking water.

The earth does not have an infinite ability to process all these toxins at the rate we are producing them. Humans have historically assumed that the earth was a "bottomless pit" that could absorb whatever trash we threw her way. We now realize that just as we can pollute small areas, like our cup of coffee, we can also ruin large areas, too--up to an including the whole climate of the planet.

Some people accuse the pope of being hopelessly unrealistic, but it's the opposite: The current system is unrealistic. We have gotten accustomed to something that is doomed from the start. The good news is that we do not have to live this way. It is going to take all hands on deck--from individual households to companies to governments. We can all evaluate how our decisions affect the common home we all share.

Imagine I am going to take a car ride from Columbus, OH, to my office in Fairfield, OH. Google Maps says it is a 133 mile trip one-way. I have this wonderful car--a gift from my father. It is not mine, though. It's for my children, but I am free to use it until they are old enough. However, I only have enough gasoline to go 100 miles. In addition, the oil has begun leaking out.

Nobody in their right mind would support my decision to do this. If for some reason the oil does not completely leak out and burn out the engine, ruining the car and risking a highway accident, then the gasoline will eventually run out. The math is easy: Attempting to go 133 miles when there is only enough fuel for 100 makes no sense. This is compounded because I know there's an oil leak. What a sad way to treat a gift that is really meant for my children to enjoy.

This is an analogy of what we are doing with the climate. We are on an unsustainable, suicide mission. On the surface, the car looks fine. It runs well enough. However, looks can be deceiving. Sometimes you need to pop open the hood to get the real story. By the time the car shows symptoms of the problems, it may be too late. But if you are really honest with yourself--you don't really have to look under the hood. You already knew the math doesn't work.

The same is true for the earth. If you take a look outside your bedroom window, you may see birds flying, trees thriving and green grasses. There may be hot days and cold days. It takes a scientist to pop open the proverbial hood to give us another look--bee populations (who do critical pollinating) are dying off. Most rainwater has pesticide residue in it. Virtually all seafood has some level of toxins in them. Plastics are being absorbed into the food chain. The earth's temperature has been steadily rising since the industrial revolution began and the forests and grasslands to neutralize these greenhouse gases are being chopped down. Everything may start to look more bleak.

We can treat the earth with the same common courtesy we would treat a neighbor: If you borrow their car, you return it--with a full tank of gas. If you make a mess, you clean it up. If you damage something, you fix it or replace it. It's just responsible stewardship.

 

Belief or Pratice - What Makes a Christian?

For most of the last 500 years since the Protestant Reformation, denominations in Western Christianity have been obsessed with making sure they have the right doctrine. The assumption in western Christianity has often been this: Being a Christian is about having the right salvation plan and your very salvation plan depends entirely on the right set of beliefs. 

Beliefs are the meat & potatoes in this model while actions are treated as the optional gravy side dish. Having the right beliefs is the foundation in this mindset, and on that foundation, a church community has some flexibility in the way those truths are lived out. Various styles and charisms follow. The beliefs are absolute; the practices vary. We are sympathetic when people do not live into the difficult prescriptions in the Gospel for our lifestyle, but we hold as absolute our beliefs. 

Jesus called on us to be "salt of the earth" (Matthew 5:13), but he seemed to imply something much more essential than just an optional flavoring. 

 

This belief-centered approach is promoted even when the language goes to theological extremes that few can understand. Even the most educated theologians struggle to understand slim nuances of difference between theological arguments. Nevertheless, many churches have not hesitated to claim that your eternal life depends on having the right beliefs and joining the right club.

I have an advanced degree in Theology, and yet I still do not understand the differences between any number of hot button church dividing issues.

Those nuances DO matter. But is it possible that we may sometimes obsess over the finer points of theology as a distraction from actually changing our lifestyle in light of the revelation of Christ?  

The belief-first model makes sense on some levels: For example, we can all agree on the belief that feeding the hungry is important. How we feed the hungry can legitimately change shape depending on the circumstances. Still, not all methods are equal, and therein lies the rub.

 

We also know that humans are imperfect, and we believe in a God of compassion and forgiveness in our mistakes to manifest this truth we have come to know. We may fail to freed the hungry but still affirm that feeding the hungry is important.

 

I am suggesting something more symbiotic: 

The truth impacts the way we live, so having different beliefs will definitely bring about different practices. It goes the other way, too: The way we practice the Christian faith informs our beliefs. By practicing mercy, for example, we come to know God and therefore expand our beliefs, not to mention demonstrate what we actually mean by those beliefs. By getting to know the world better through servanthood, our beliefs broaden, deepen and develop.



Left: Traditional Model - Belief Centered
Right:  Symbiotic Model

I liken it to the way Scripture and Tradition have a symbiotic relationship in Catholic theology--bouncing off each other, informing each other, each providing a lens to see the other.  

I would be hesitant to suggest that practice is more important than belief. For now, I am comfortable saying that the two should be kept in balance.

The relationship between belief and practice would follow in a similar way:

Our knowing helps us to do --

and our doing helps us to know.

 

"The medium is the message," as philosopher Marshall McLuhan said and my Theology advisor always reminded me. Belief and practice are expressed as one phenomenon. How something is conveyed is just a part of the message as the explanation that may accompany it. There is a oneness here. Thought cannot be divorced from action. 

Telling someone you love them while punching them in the face gives at best a mixed message, if it is not an outright contradiction. It certainly calls into question your definition of love and your meaning, intention and conviction behind it. You may believe in love, but do you really know love? I am using "know" here in the Biblical sense--a whole-person experience rather than just a detached intellectual experience.
 
Obviously, we will all have ideals that we fall short of realizing. I am suggesting something more than simply "practice what we preach." I am saying that the way we understand the faith could benefit greatly if we understood the Christian life as being as much a verb as a noun.

The famous love passages in 1 Corinthians 13 backs this up. Grace--as understood as faith, hope and love--is the only thing that is eternal or coherent, according to the passage. Knowledge, prophecy--everything, really--all pass away, but faith, hope and love endure. All else is only so much senseless noise. It is only God's grace which brings order out of chaos, which turns that senseless noise into music and which brings something that dies to life. Our participation in this is a more energetic relationship than an intellectual, contractual agreement.
 

Hiding-in-Plain-Sight Christianity

 

The spiritual path can be hard, and it is easy to hide from it. There is no better way of fooling people--and yourself--than hiding in plain sight. We do this by talking about Christianity. We may practice a few core disciplines that our tradition mandates--we may go to church and abstain from certain behaviors, for example. But do our lives actually give witness to what we claim to believe? Is there even an attempt made to express the radical reality of Christ? Do we know Christ only in our thoughts but not elsewhere?

 

The western mind is the descendent of the Ancient Greeks. Their heavily analytical style broke apart reality into pieces for study and comment. The human person in its wholeness became thought of as mind, body and soul. This kind of fragmentation is great for analytical study so long as we do not lose sight of the integrated whole. The Greeks may have inadvertently paved the way for the way we nowadays often see belief and practice as so distinct as to be virtually unrelated to each other. 

 

The Letter of James attempts to remind us that the human experience is whole: "For just as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is also dead" (James 2:26).

The great Reformers cautioned us with this. They wanted to quell the idea that humans are in charge of our destiny and that somehow we can "earn" salvation from our own efforts. It is a fair point, but they miss an even bigger point: Grace itself is a holistic experience of faith, hope and love that is not limited to the mental affirmation of belief. When we say that faith is crucial but works are not, we are acting like attendance in the locker room is essential but participation in the game itself is optional. Good works become a kind of optional victory lap in the Christian life rather than the race itself.

James challenges us more than most Christians are willing to consider. Consider this often ignored line: "Even the demons believe--and shudder" (James 2:19). Belief is not enough--the Christian experience must be more than that.

Faith without works is dead not because we earn salvation, as many in the Reformation argued. It is dead because the Christian life is not merely an intellectual head game--it is a whole-person endeavor.

 

A lot of people like to talk about religion. It is like theology is a puzzle to figure out, and they brood over it deeply. Indeed, many people have the spiritual calling--or burden--to be theologians. Their minds are unceasingly pondering the great mysteries and trying to glean what we can know of God from what has been revealed. Still, one of the great hiding places for the westerner is to hide in her/his own mind. We need thinkers, but when thoughts are too separated from a lived expression they fall short.

Defining Ourselves By Orthopraxy

Christians tend to group themselves along lines of belief. What if we were to group Christians along lines of practice?

Take something like the peace movement—very united in practice, but not always united in dogma, as people come from a variety of traditions. Yet at the same time, the practice of peace does bring about a sense of who humans are and our place in the cosmos—an implied theology is there. The peace movement is a kind of "church." Perhaps according to the test of Matthew 25, maybe we need to remove the phrase "kind of" and say "is"--it is a church in the sense that it is doing what Christ says to do.

 

The same is probably true of other movements, such as the charismatic movement or missionary movement(s). Movements have a theology. 

My colleague Dr. Rick Stern noticed that there is a unique and identifiable theology in the lyrics of bluegrass music. The practice of the music, the community which has formed around it and the revelations discovered through its practice have give it a distinct charism, or theology.   

Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me."
—John 14:6 NIV

This is a verse most Christians have heard over and over again. It just becomes part of the wallpaper of daily life—it is so central, yet it can be so overlooked.

 

Jesus announces that He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  In other words:

* No one comes to the Father except through the Truth of Jesus. 

* No one comes to the Father except through the Way of Jesus. 

* No one comes to the Father except through a Life in Jesus. 

 

Practicing Christianity may be just as important as believing in the right Christianity. To this point, many early Christians were referred to as followers of the Way (Acts 9:2).

 

Even the word "truth" itself is not necessarily about intellectual assent but about the Mystery of Jesus as the Incarnation of God. It is how we are in relationship with this Mystery and the impact it has on our lives that matters.

Merely identifying the Truth alone is only part of the equation, and I believe this is what James was warning us about. James was not fostering a "salvation by works" theology as much as he was reminding us that the challenge of Christ is a whole person endeavor, and he was trying to call us out of one of our favorite hiding places: Our mind.

For Further Reading

Saving Souls, Not Dogma, is the Heart of Pastoral Church Life discusses a paradigm shift along the lines of this post and was helpful in constructing it.

The First Canon: Mercy offers the quote by Pope Francis below which I believe also speaks to the relationship of faith/works and orthodoxy/orthopraxy:

"Mercy is not just a pastoral attitude,

but it is the very substance of the Gospel of Jesus."

-- Pope Francis

Pope Francis -- More than a Change in Tone

It is almost impossible to read a commentary about Pope Francis without someone describing his approach as a "change in tone."

This is a big debate in Catholic circles about the leadership of Pope Francis.  He seems to be changing a lot of things.  Is he changing basic beliefs?  Some say he is just bringing a new style.  Some say he is focusing on our pastoral practices but not changing doctrine.

There is reason to celebrate the expression "change in tone"--those who fear change are reassured of continuity and those who want radical change are also affirmed that their view has a long history of Church support. The phrase is politically ingenious.

However, the phrase lacks bite in an important way:  All of these suggestions are inadequate, because belief and practice are not isolated from each other.

I will go on record in saying that "a change in tone" is one of the worst ways of understanding Francis.

Gridiron Christianity or Locker Room Analysis?

Before a football game, the teams meet in the locker rooms and strategize with mock plays on the chalkboard.  They study the rules and rehearse drills.  They review the mishaps and celebrations from the previous week.

Later, they show up on the gridiron and attempt to turn those plays into reality--all the while experiencing the elements, shouting crowds and on-the-field improvisations.  The lessons from the past and the hopes for the future all intersect in the present moment in the snap of the football. The arrows and symbols on a chalkboard are simplistic representations of a much bigger process that unfolds in the lived reality of the game.  While the playbook matters, no one would ever confuse the playbook with the game itself.

Going from the locker room playbook to the lived reality of the field is far more than simply a "change in tone"--it is the game itself.

How silly it would be for people to debate the correct sequence of plays in the locker room and never step foot on the football field, yet that is exactly how many Christians live their Christian life.  We act like the theory is more important than the practice.  We choose the life of a sports commentator rather than the grunts, tackles and gasps of a first-person encounter.  It makes no sense for football.  Why do we settle for this in our spiritual walk?

We play football on the field but many of us live Christianity in the locker room. 

I know a lot of folks who approach Catholic Social Teaching as a mental exercise.  They spend hours pouring over books and locked in discussions.  They struggle to understand what Jesus meant when he called on people to "feed the hungry," for example.

From the perspective of the hungry person, it matters little if people have the best theology if that theology does not somehow manifest in the form of potatoes, corn and beans in front of them.

Likewise, it matters little if someone can poorly articulate a cohesive theology if they come in love bearing sacks of grain.  On some level of their being, they "get it" even if their explanation would not hold up to an academic critique.

Some say that love by itself is not the Gospel.  I am not sure about that.  What I would argue is that doctrine without love is not the Gospel.

The Good News for the hungry is not the reassurance that well intentioned people are studying the Gospels--the Good News is knowing that the food delivery truck is on its way.

It's All About Love

Scripture reminds us of the Mystery of love--without it, our actions are just a senseless banging of gongs and cymbals (1 Cor 13:1). It is as if what we do does not even matter without love--those actions do not participate in eternity.

God turns chaos into order in Genesis, and without love our actions deteriorate back into chaos. Love, therefore, is the creative expression of God!  Scripture speaks to this in saying, "everyone who loves is born of God" (1 John 4:7). 

Going from noise to music is, literally speaking, a change in tone.  But to stop there in the description is to miss something big: It is also what separates order from chaos.  It separates what endures from that which fades, the eternal from the temporal.  It separates death from life, as James reminds us that "faith without works is dead" (James 2:26)--it is not because we "earn" salvation through our own efforts, as the great Reformers worried, but rather it is because knowing Jesus is whole-person endeavor that is much more than just intellectual knowledge.

To the extent that Pope Francis is turning belief into practice marks a change not just in tone but of essence.  He calls on us to practice mercy.  He calls on us to live simply and tend to the poor.  This is not just icing on an otherwise fine piece of cake.  The practice of mercy is not just a softer delivery of the same ole, same ole--it is the difference between the playbook and game itself.  This is Good News.