Golden Rule

I used to think that the Golden Rule was peculiar to the Bible. Jesus taught in the sermon on the mount: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you" (Mt. 7:12).

I came across a form of that rule in the Old Testament too: "Do to no one what you yourself hate" (Tobit 4:2).

There is also the story in Jewish literature about a man who came to Hillel, who lived about a century before Jesus, and challenged the holy man to teach him the whole of Torah while standing on one foot.

Hillel responded, "What is hateful to yourself, do not do to your fellow man. That is the whole of Torah and the rest is but commentary. Go and learn it."

Even earlier (about 500 years before Jesus) the Chinese social philosopher known as Confucius had taught, "Do not impose on others what you do not wish for yourself."

And earlier still forms of the Golden Rule can be found among the ancient Greeks. Pittacus of Myteline, born about 640 BC, is credited with the saying: "Do not to your neighbor what you would take ill from him."

And Thales of Miletus (born about 624 BC, and thought by some to be the first philosopher of Greek wisdom) said, "Avoid doing what you would blame others for doing."

There were versions of this so-called rule of reciprocity in ancient Babylon and ancient Egypt as well. The truth of the Golden Rule is apparent to thoughtful human nature.

Closer to our time a strange little man named Peter Maurin formulated still another version.

It was Maurin who taught and encouraged Dorothy Day to found the Catholic Worker newspaper to be an advocate for social justice and to establish Catholic Worker Houses to care for the homeless and broken members of society.

Day and Maurin met in 1932. In her biography of him, Day wrote, "Peter never tired of teaching, and many were the meetings held in the store, which was the first office of the Catholic Worker. Night after night, those first years, the meetings went on, from eight to ten, often far later."

In one of his lessons, Maurin insisted that he wished to be "what he wanted the other fellow to be."

That simple thought has profound ramifications.

That I should be what I want others to be would prompt more patience when I am driving, more kindness when meeting new people, more generosity to those in need.

Jesus' teaching that I should do to others as I want them to do to me is further clarified when I take on the persona of people around me.

Atticus Finch taught his daughter in To Kill A Mockingbird, "You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view --until you climb into his skin and walk around in it."

Maurin's advice is another way of expressing that law of reciprocity, that so-called Golden Rule.

It struck me hard when I read his version. I have a lot of work to do.

Age of the Laity

At the beginning of the twentieth century Pope Pius X wrote an encyclical letter deploring the decision of the French government to withdraw from agreements made with the Vatican. In the course of that letter (Vehmenter nos) the pope further lamented the civil government's interfering in Church matters, and went on to explain that only the pastors of the Church have the right and authority to direct its members.

In emphasizing the role of the Church's pastors, he said, "The one duty of the multitude is to allow themselves to be led, and, like a docile flock, to follow the pastors" (#8).

This last statement reflects the long-standing paternalistic attitude of clergy toward the laity.

This paternalism gave rise to the observation that "it seems that the duty of the faithful is to pray, pay and obey."

This mentality about the role of the laity was challenged at the Second Vatican Council. The magisterium of the Church now formally confirms that the laity share in the salvific mission of the Church (Lumen Gentium, 33) and that they must be aware of what their faith demands and not hesitate to take the initiative at the opportune moment (Gaudium et Spes, 43).

It is clear that the laity are to turn to the clergy for guidance and spiritual strength, but it is equally clear that the laity are "to shoulder their responsibilities...participate actively in the whole life of the Church" (ibid.)

Vatican II no longer looked at the laity as simple, docile sheep.

The Council continued, "Let them (the laity) realize that their pastors will not always be so expert as to have a ready answer to every problem (even every grave problem) that arises; this is not the role of the clergy: it is rather up to the laymen to shoulder their responsibilities under the guidance of Christian wisdom and with eager attention to the teaching authority of the Church" (ibid.)

And, "the Church can never be without the lay apostolate; it is something that derives from the layman's very vocation as a Christian. Scripture clearly shows how spontaneous and fruitful was this activity in the Church's early days (cf. Acts 11:19-21; 18:26; Rom 16: 1-6; Phil 4:3)" (Apostolicam Actuositatem, 1).

Theologian Richard Gaillardetz addresses the teachings of the Council about the role of the laity: "Although the council was unable to offer a fully developed and completely consistent theology of the laity, its contributions nevertheless lay the foundation for a new age of the church.

"No more were the laity to be relegated to servile obedience to clerical mandates. Now the laity were to engage the world with initiative, courage, and conviction. In the postconciliar era we have witnessed a renewed emphasis on the priority of Christian baptism and the demands of Christian mission calling every baptized follower of Jesus to be a servant of God's reign" (Keys to the Council, p. 101, Liturgical Press, 2012).

Belief or Faith?

We ought to  ask ourselves whether the focus of our religion is belief or faith. The two differ.

Belief could be described as acceptance of doctrines. At the Council of Nicea in 325 AD, the council fathers published a creed. They were responding to a controversy in the Church about whether Jesus was equal to the Father. A priest named Arius argued that Jesus was subordinate to the Father, that Jesus received his being from the Father at the beginning of time.

Others insisted that Jesus was not subordinate, that Jesus was truly God like the Father.

As the intensity of the conflict increased, the Emperor Constantine called the bishops of the Church together to settle the matter: What do Christians believe about Jesus' relationship to the Father?

The major result of this council was the creed which formally defined that Jesus is "from the substance of the Father, God from God, light from light, true God from true God, begotten not made, consubstantial with the Father."

Although this proclamation settled the matter about what the council bishops believed to be the truth, the controversy continued for many decades. A second council was called in 380 AD to respond once more to the Arian heresy.

It is clear that spelling out one's beliefs has an enormous effect upon one's faith. If faith is a lived response to God, then it makes a difference to a believer whether Jesus is God or not. How much more awesome (and filled with mystery) is God's love for the world if indeed it was God who "became man and dwelt among us" and not simply some emissary.

Belief, then, is important, but acceptance of a creed is only the first step; the second is faith.

It is conceivable that a person could believe what the Bible and the Church teach and still not be a Christian in the full sense of that designation.

Believing a set of doctrines does not a Christian make. To be a Christian one must be a disciple of Jesus, must pick up his cross, must walk in his footsteps, strive to live out the Gospel, and have a personal relationship (deep and intimate) with Jesus.

It is much easier to be a believing Catholic than to be a practicing one.

Catholics who are intense about doctrine are also called to be intense about compassion, kindness, forgiveness, service, and many other Christ-like virtues.

When Church members become "liturgical police" or "heretic hunters," they may distort both their religion and the faith. Attitude is a vital element of true discipleship. Jesus' concern was people over law. He did not denigrate the law, but neither did he condemn the law-breakers.

Belief, then, is a matter of creed, of doctrines and magisterium. Faith, then, is a matter of living one's beliefs, of loving one's neighbor, of intimacy with Jesus.

It is noteworthy that in the middle of Mass the congregation pauses to profess its faith in the words of the creed.

It is especially noteworthy that, as scholar Karen Armstrong explains, "The word 'belief' itself originally meant to love, to prize, to hold dear...In the 17th century, it narrowed its focus...to mean an intellectual assent to a set of propositions, a credo."

She continues, "I believe did not mean, 'I accept certain creedal articles of faith.' It meant 'I commit myself. I engage myself.'"

With that insight in mind, note that the creed becomes an excellent transition piece between the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist. Think of that next Sunday.

The so-called "profession of faith" is no longer a mere recitation of beliefs; it is rather a committing to faith, an accepting of the Father as Creator, a welcoming of Jesus as Lord, a being open to the Holy Spirit, a rededicating of oneself to full partnership in the community of Christ.

Belief and faith are not opposed to each other; they need each other. Belief without faith is dead.

Praying What We Believe

There is a principle in theology which holds that the way we pray is the way we believe -- or lex orandi, lex credendi to be more precise.

Theologians Karl Rahner and Herbert Vorgrimler noted in their dictionary of theology that there was a similar statement recorded in the Council of Ephesus (431) when it was cataloguing authoritative statements from popes. It has lex supplicandi, lex credendi, which might be rendered "the law of supplication, the law of believing" (Denzinger, 139).

Rahner and Vorgrimler explained that the statement from the Council of Ephesus developed into the theological principle that "the liturgy is the norm of faith, a witness to the infallible belief of the praying church."

If you have stayed with me through these three paragraphs, please follow me into the Roman Missal (Third Edition) and to the second eucharistic prayer.

The new translation of that prayer includes the petition, "Have mercy on us, O Lord, that...we may merit to be coheirs to eternal life..."

It is the term "merit" that makes me question what it is we believe.

If we keep praying that we may merit eternal life, then does that not influence what we believe about grace, about eternal life as pure gift?

It is Catholic theology that no one merits heaven; it is a gift.

We follow God's commands, we suffer along with Christ, not so that we will merit eternal life but because it has already been offered to us. Doing things and being good in order to earn heaven is putting the cart before the horse.

Some children are taught that they should be good in order to receive presents at Christmas. Adults are urged to be good because Christ has already offered them.

The notion that we have to do things in order to merit God's love and eternal life is reflected in the older son in Jesus' parable of the prodigal. He thought he should have been rewarded for his loyalty and service, and was upset that his younger, profligate brother was being welcomed home with a party.

St. Therese the Little Flower, and later the French author George Bernanos, happily proclaimed, "Grace is everywhere."

Perhaps the second eucharistic prayer would be better translated "that we may inherit eternal life."

If we understood the prayer in this way, we are simply affirming that the law of believing is the law of praying, or lex credendi, lex orandi.

Re-ordering the Sacraments

The custom at Sacred Heart Church when I was first named pastor there in 1990 was to offer Confirmation to young people when they were in high school, in their teens.

Some parents thought waiting until high school was a great inconvenience because their children were expected to attend special classes to prepare for receiving the sacrament, and the times of the preparation classes often conflicted with other schedules, such as sports practice.

In response to the complaints, I asked the staff to individually research the matter, especially what was considered the best age for receiving Confirmation.

I was really looking for background that would support our custom of waiting until the youth were a bit older. Some liturgists and theologians were calling Confirmation "the sacrament of maturity."

When the parish staff gathered to share their findings and recommendations, we were all surprised to discover that each of us had come to the same conclusion --waiting until teenage years was not the best practice!

The clearest piece of evidence that waiting until teenage years was not a good idea was Canon Law (#891) which said that "the sacrament of confirmation is to be conferred on the faithful at about the age of discretion."

Age seven is generally considered the age of discretion, the age when a child is capable of making informed choices.

Church law then was telling us that age seven not seventeen was the norm.

Canon 891, however, goes on to say that conferences of bishops may decide on another age. The US bishops had agreed to disagree about the age, and said confirmation was to be conferred between ages 11 and 16.

Our staff research also concluded that in the earliest days of the Church the traditional order for receiving the sacraments of initiation was Baptism, Confirmation, Holy Eucharist.

We had to admit that there were conflicting ways of understanding the theology of Confirmation: completion of Baptism versus sacrament of mature faith and adult commitment. We concluded, however, that historically Confirmation originally followed Baptism, and in fact was normally conferred at the same ceremony as Baptism.

Having assessed the theology, history, customs and law concerning Confirmation, we decided to move its conferral at Sacred Heart from freshmen year to second grade.

The bishop, however, had a different idea. He pointed to the ages set by the US Bishops Conference and allowed us to move the conferral to the middle years of grade school.

My argument that Confirmation is not a sacrament of maturity but rather a completion of  Baptism was not persuasive.

Last week, on March 8, 2012, Bishop Samuel Aquila of the Diocese of Fargo announced that in his diocese the ancient order of receiving the sacraments of initiation was being restored, that is, Confirmation before First Eucharist.

In his visit to Pope Benedict XVI, Aquila learned that the Holy Father was pleased that Aquila was restoring the sacraments of initiation to their proper order of Baptism, Confirmation, and First Eucharist. He had papal approval!

According to the story on www.catholicnewsagency.com/news/bishop-aquila the bishop said he made the change because "it really puts the emphasis on the Eucharist as being what completes the sacraments of initiation" and on confirmation as "sealing and completing Baptism."

Aquila also noted that the change distanced the Sacrament of Confirmation from "some false theologies that see it as being a sacrament of maturity or as a sacrament for 'me choosing God.'"

As I read Aquila's explanation I felt our parish staff's conclusion back in the early 1990s was more than justified.

Those of us who participated in that staff study will now be waiting to see how long it will take other bishops to catch up! Forgive our chutzpah!

If John XXIII Had Lived

I wonder what the Church would be like today if Pope John XXIII had lived for all four years of the Second Vatican Council.

The Council met over a four year period, 1962-65. Pope John died in 1963 and was succeeded by Pope Paul VI.

It is pure speculation, of course, but I wonder how Pope John would have dealt with the recommendation of the Papal Commission on birth control.

Pope John had established the commission in 1963 at the suggestion of Cardinal Leon-Joseph Suenens. The Vatican II Council fathers were reminded on at least three occasions that this delicate issue was not to be debated on the council floor because the matter was being studied by this special papal commission.

Suenens, however,  caused a major stir when he suggested that it was time to review the old teaching on birth control and perhaps accept that the doctrine was due for "development." He further urged Pope Paul VI to reveal the names of the members of the papal commission. It is said that Paul was a little more than irked by Suenens' speech.

When the majority of the members of the papal commission on birth control recommended a change in the church's position, Pope Paul reserved the matter to himself, and in 1968 published his encyclical letter Humanae Vitae, electing to make no change.

It is pure speculation, of course, but I wonder how Pope John would have dealt with the question of episcopal collegiality, that is, how the bishops as a college relate to the pope.

General editor of the five-volume History of Vatican II Giuseppe Alberigo summarized the issue this way: whether the bishops constituted a single body, a "college," a fraternal union of persons dedicated to a common task, just as the apostles had been "the Twelve."

Alberigo wrote that nearly 130 of the bishops spoke to this matter, many of them stressing "the close association between the 'college' of the apostles and that of their successors, the bishops." Opponents of this "collegiality" feared that such an idea would undermine the authority of the pope.

Further there were bishops who proposed that the Church should be run by a committee of bishops in union with pope, replacing the authority of the Curia, the Vatican Bureaus.

It is said that Pope Paul had misgivings about these proposals, so on his own initiative he announced that he was going to establish "the Synod of Bishops," but it would be an advisory body with no authority beyond what the pope would give it.

Church historian Father John O'Malley assessed the papal document (Apostolica Sollicitudo) as "a preemptive strike." Paul did not even use the word collegiality. He stressed papal primacy.

Synods of bishops continue to meet periodically with the pope in Rome today, but the Vatican sets the agenda. The proposals for a collegial rule of the Church have been ignored.

It is pure speculation, of course, but I wonder how Pope John would have dealt with the question of optional celibacy for priestly ordination in the Roman branch of the Catholic Church.

The issue of clerical celibacy came up in 1962 at a preparatory commission meeting  about what to do about priests who had left the ministry. The question was whether such men should be relieved of the obligation of celibacy. The commission thought the matter too complicated for open discussion and suggested the matter be left to the pope. Pope John XXIII took the matter off the table.

Although priestly celibacy was not an issue in 1962, by 1965 a small minority of bishops  thought the rule should be revised, at least for some regions of the Church. When a number of Brazilian bishops wanted to bring the matter to debate on the council floor, Pope Paul VI intervened and took celibacy off the agenda.

In his book What Happened At Vatican II, Father O'Malley summarized the situation: He (Pope Paul) believed such a discussion highly inappropriate...The bishops, even most of those who talked about possible change in the discipline, agreed that to open the matter on the floor of St. Peter's would probably generate more heat than light, send the media into a frenzy, and result in inadequate treatment because the time left to the council was so short (p.271).

Although it would be pure speculation to wonder about what would have happened in the areas of collegiality, contraception, and celibacy if Pope John XXIII had out-lived the council, there is no doubt that some Catholics think "things" would be different now.

The issue of episcopal collegiality versus Curial rule festers yet today. Contraception remains an area of dispute for many Catholics. Clerical celibacy is still a stumbling block, especially in the light of the Church's practice of welcoming married Episcopalian priests into the Roman fold.

The Second Vatican Council may be 50 years old, but its direction continues, its hopes abide, and its controversies linger.

Celebrating Vatican II

Not everyone in the Catholic world is eager to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Second Vatican Council (1962-65).

Writing from Rome, Drew Christiansen, SJ, editor of America magazine, said in the February 20, 2012, edition, "I have been here a week and seen no reference to the 50th anniversary of the Second Vatican Council, even in the tourist shops attuned to every other observance."

On the other hand the newly-formed Association of US Catholic priests (AUSCP) has planned a conference for June in Tampa, Florida, with the theme, "Keeping Alive the Vision and Passion of Vatican II." And Catholic University of  America, Washington DC, is sponsoring a four-day conference in September titled "Reform and Renewal: Vatican II after 50 Years."

Undoubtedly Church officials in Rome will in some measure commemorate the council's anniversary, but will they celebrate it?

I suspect they will use the occasion to repeat their interpretation that the council is fully in continuity with tradition as opposed to those who interpret the council as a rupture in the history of Catholicism.

The distinction between "continuity" and "rupture" arose when a symposium held in Bologna in 1996 used the term "event" to describe Vatican II. Some theologians and members of the hierarchy rejected the idea that the council was an event because in historical sociology an "event" is understood to be a detachment from the ordinary or traditional.

Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger (now Pope Benedict XVI) weighed in against calling the council an event, saying, "There is no "pre-" or "post-" conciliar Church...There are no leaps in its history, there are no fractures, and there is no break in continuity. In no wise did the Council intend to introduce a temporal dichotomy in the Church."

Cardinal Camelo Ruini criticized lay theologian Giuseppe Alberigo, a participant in the "Bologna school," for describing the council as event, noting that his use of the term "event" was a borrowing from secular social science and implied a rupture, a change from received norms and ways.

In his analysis of this controversy, church historian John O'Malley writes, "I do not see that Alberigo and others who have used 'event' as an instrument to interpret the council have given it the radical meaning that their critics attribute to them."

Commenting on Alberigo's five-volume history of the council, O'Malley continues, "Nowhere in the Alberigo volumes is there the slightest suggestion that 'new beginning' meant in any way a rupture in the faith of the Church or a diminution of any dogma."

Listening to the two sides of this controversy, one might well conclude that Rome is rightly concerned that no one should think of Vatican II as a dogmatic break with the past, and it wasn't. At the same time there is reason to acknowledge that something new did occur in this 21st ecumenical council that makes it different from the previous twenty.

As cardinal and now as pope, Joseph Ratzinger has cautioned those who are enthusiastic about Vatican II to remain faithful to the letter of the council and to be leery of embracing the so-called spirit of the council.

O'Malley points out the inadequacy of simply appealing to the spirit of the council since your spirit of the council is not necessarily my spirit of the council. At the same time he acknowledges that there was in the council a certain orientation or direction that can rightly be called its spirit.

The work and influence of Vatican II are far from over. This upcoming golden anniversary commemoration is pregnant with possibilities for reviewing the letter and releasing the spirit.

Not everyone in the Catholic Church is eager to celebrate Vatican II, but, God willing, all will commemorate it and re-discover Pope John XXIII's dream for "a new Pentecost in our time."