It should be self-evident that we can never fully capture in human words the divine reality.
Whatever we say about God falls short. The human mind and the words we formulate to capture truth are too small to embrace the Supreme Being.
Whatever we say about God we say by way of analogy. For this reason human beings use a variety of literary forms to speak about God. The Sacred Scriptures use poetry, song, folklore, myth, history, Gospel, letters, etc. to express what we perceive to be the truth.
The Bible is the result of our Jewish ancestors' struggle to understand their experience of divinity. Consequently we employ a variety of traditions and theologies to organize the complexity and superority of God.
The first chapter of Genesis emphasizes the transcendence of God; the second chapter presents God's immanence. Is God above and beyond us? Or is God truly with us? The answer to both questions is "Yes." God is transcendent and immanent.
The Bible is trying to express the inexpressible, often by formulating or borrowing traditions. It is a compilation of these traditions. Sometimes the stories have similar incidents but different characters. Sometimes elements of the stories contradict each other.
If you ask most Bible readers, "Who killed Goliath?" their answer is "David," and they may refer you to 1 Samuel 17 to verify it. Some others may give a different answer, and refer you to 2 Samuel 21:19: "There was another battle with the Philistines in Gob, in which Elhanan, son of Jair from Bethlehem, killed Goliath of Gath..." Two traditions, two heroes.
Acts 9:7 says that those with Paul on the road to Damascus "heard the voice but could see no one," while Acts 22:9, referring to the same incident, says they "saw the light but did not hear the voice." Two traditions, differing details.
These discrepancies do not invalidate the effort to understand and verbalize our perception of God's revelation. They do point, however, to the differing ways we experience God, to the variations in how we express that experience.
Theologians have long held that there is greater accuracy in saying what God is not than in saying what God is. In a sense, everything we say about God borders on heresy.
If we acknowledge that there are variations in the experience and that it is impossible to fully understand and verbalize those experiences, are we to conclude that all our theologizing is in vain and that religion is by its nature unreliable speculation?
No, not at all. Would it make sense to refuse to eat a meal because all the food groups are not represented on the table? No, we will eat what is there. Would it make sense to refuse to have a relationship with some people because we cannot meet and know all people? No, we relate to those we can.
In similar fashion, though we cannot know everything about God, we will not for that reason refuse to know anything about the divine. And we can even allow the probability that others may have an insight or a word that expresses the truth better than we do.
In an earlier age Church leaders argued over how best to express the truth that Jesus is divine. The expression "consubstantial with the Father" was chosen to express Jesus' divinity, but that same expression was understood by some to mean that Jesus and the Father are one and the same. Words sometimes fail us.
John the evangelist faced the challenge of capturing the truth: Jesus said, "I and the Father are one" (Jn 10:30) and "I am leaving the world to go to the Father" (Jn 16:28) ---one in being but distinct.
Despite our deficiencies, it remains possible for us to develop theologies, to reject statements which contradict what we know, to explore better ways of formulating our understanding.
At the same time we must acknowledge that we never fully capture God in human language. Good theologizing always requires a dose of humility.
Showing posts with label theology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theology. Show all posts
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Liberal or Conservative?
I was asked recently, "In matters of Church, are you liberal or conservative?"
Since I did not know how my inquirer defined those terms, I chose not to choose. (A good apologist knows that the one who defines the terms wins the argument.) I replied, "I'm orthodox."
My dictionary defines conservative as "traditional in style or manner, avoiding novelty." Liberal is defined as "favorable to progress or reform."
With those definitions in mind I asked myself, "In matters of Church, which are you --liberal or conservative?"
As I read the New Testament I am struck by the simplicity of Jesus' teaching, by his emphasis on God's mercy, by his gathering of disciples who were neither philosophers from Greece nor lawyers from Rome but fishermen from Galilee and a headstrong Pharisee from Tarsus.
He forgave sinners, reprimanded the self-righteous, and warned his followers not to seek positions of rank or titles of honor but to be servants meek and humble of heart.
Jesus was stern: "You know how the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and the great ones make their authority over them felt. But it shall no be so among you. Rather, whoever wishes to be great among you shall be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you shall be your slave" (Matthew 20:26-27).
Things changed over the centuries since Jesus taught and the Gospels were written. In the earliest days one was evangelized, baptized, and then catechized. Celibacy was not required of a bishop; forgiveness of sin did not require confession to a priest; liturgy was in the vernacular; bishops were chosen by the people not the pope.
Something changed when the Roman Emperor Constantine legalized Christianity, offered Church leaders money, houses, and titles, and built basilicas for Christian worship.
Something changed when more and more authority was acquired by the bishop of Rome and the successor of Peter became "the Supreme Pontiff," when bishops became princes and were called "Your Grace," when the priesthood became a career.
Something changed when the Vatican insisted on uniformity at the expense of diversity and unity, when the term "Church" became synonymous with the hierarchy, when the people became "the simple faithful."
Changes in the Church are inevitable, indeed required, if she is to be faithful to her mission in a changing world. But along with the necessary changes came novelties in liturgy (priests turned their backs on the people and spoke in a foreign language), in law (a metropolitan bishop is obliged to request the pallium from the Roman Pontiff, cf. Canon #437), and in papal power (choosing who can be ordained a bishop, or insisting that a non-infallible teaching is definitive and may no longer be discussed).
It seems to me then that a conservative is one who shies away from novelties and cherishes foundational beliefs and practices. A liberal is one who promotes progress, changes and reform.
A conservative Catholic would be one who wants to see his Church drop hierarchical titles such as "Your Eminence," celebrate Mass in the old style (i.e., in the vernacular with the people gathered about the table), return selection of the bishop to the local church community, accept married clergy, and reaffirm the Gospel values of poverty and service in the early Church.
A liberal Catholic would be one who wants to maintain clericalism, celebrate Mass in the recent innovative style (i.e., in Latin with the laity separated from the altar), intensify papal centrism, require celibate clergy, and promote titles, vestments, and practices of the Medieval Church.
My analysis transposes the common application of the terms liberal and conservative, so you can see why I am reluctant to choose one as a self-description. I have come to believe that conservatives are really liberals, and liberals are really conservatives. You perhaps do not agree with my assessment, but then he who defines the terms wins the argument.
Since I did not know how my inquirer defined those terms, I chose not to choose. (A good apologist knows that the one who defines the terms wins the argument.) I replied, "I'm orthodox."
My dictionary defines conservative as "traditional in style or manner, avoiding novelty." Liberal is defined as "favorable to progress or reform."
With those definitions in mind I asked myself, "In matters of Church, which are you --liberal or conservative?"
As I read the New Testament I am struck by the simplicity of Jesus' teaching, by his emphasis on God's mercy, by his gathering of disciples who were neither philosophers from Greece nor lawyers from Rome but fishermen from Galilee and a headstrong Pharisee from Tarsus.
He forgave sinners, reprimanded the self-righteous, and warned his followers not to seek positions of rank or titles of honor but to be servants meek and humble of heart.
Jesus was stern: "You know how the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and the great ones make their authority over them felt. But it shall no be so among you. Rather, whoever wishes to be great among you shall be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you shall be your slave" (Matthew 20:26-27).
Things changed over the centuries since Jesus taught and the Gospels were written. In the earliest days one was evangelized, baptized, and then catechized. Celibacy was not required of a bishop; forgiveness of sin did not require confession to a priest; liturgy was in the vernacular; bishops were chosen by the people not the pope.
Something changed when the Roman Emperor Constantine legalized Christianity, offered Church leaders money, houses, and titles, and built basilicas for Christian worship.
Something changed when more and more authority was acquired by the bishop of Rome and the successor of Peter became "the Supreme Pontiff," when bishops became princes and were called "Your Grace," when the priesthood became a career.
Something changed when the Vatican insisted on uniformity at the expense of diversity and unity, when the term "Church" became synonymous with the hierarchy, when the people became "the simple faithful."
Changes in the Church are inevitable, indeed required, if she is to be faithful to her mission in a changing world. But along with the necessary changes came novelties in liturgy (priests turned their backs on the people and spoke in a foreign language), in law (a metropolitan bishop is obliged to request the pallium from the Roman Pontiff, cf. Canon #437), and in papal power (choosing who can be ordained a bishop, or insisting that a non-infallible teaching is definitive and may no longer be discussed).
It seems to me then that a conservative is one who shies away from novelties and cherishes foundational beliefs and practices. A liberal is one who promotes progress, changes and reform.
A conservative Catholic would be one who wants to see his Church drop hierarchical titles such as "Your Eminence," celebrate Mass in the old style (i.e., in the vernacular with the people gathered about the table), return selection of the bishop to the local church community, accept married clergy, and reaffirm the Gospel values of poverty and service in the early Church.
A liberal Catholic would be one who wants to maintain clericalism, celebrate Mass in the recent innovative style (i.e., in Latin with the laity separated from the altar), intensify papal centrism, require celibate clergy, and promote titles, vestments, and practices of the Medieval Church.
My analysis transposes the common application of the terms liberal and conservative, so you can see why I am reluctant to choose one as a self-description. I have come to believe that conservatives are really liberals, and liberals are really conservatives. You perhaps do not agree with my assessment, but then he who defines the terms wins the argument.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Correcting Errors
On December 8, 1864, Pope Pius IX issued an encyclical letter titled Quanta Cura ("With Great Care"). He directed the Church's hierarchy to oppose what he called a "great perversity of depraved opinions." Calling on his "apostolic authority," the pope condemned certain "evil opinions and doctrines" and commanded Catholics to eschew them as well.
Accompanying the publication of Quanta Cura was a listing of 80 condemned propositions in a document now known as Pope Pius IX's Syllabus of Errors. Public reaction to the Syllabus, even among Catholics, was largely negative, sometimes hostile.
The problem was: The list included not only opinions which were in essence opposed to Catholic dogma, but also ideas which were not necessarily contrary to dogma.
For example, the Syllabus condemned the proposition that belief in Christ is irrational and that divine revelation is harmful to the perfection of the human race. There was little opposition to condemning that idea.
On the other hand, the Syllabus condemned the proposal that "every man is free to embrace and profess that religion which, guided by the light of reason, he shall consider true." There was much opposition to this condemnation of freedom of conscience.
Whoever put the list together committed himself a great error. The compiler took statements out of context, statements of errors previously condemned in Church and papal documents. For example, taken out of context, the idea that the pope should not come to terms with modern civilization is nonsensical, and yet that is what Error #80 seemed to say. The problem here is that the pope was using the term "civilization" in a very restricted, almost sarcastic way, to refer to new movements which undermined the Church.
At the same time, however, not all "errors" were misunderstandings. Some of the ideas condemned in the Syllabus were later recanted, or re-interpreted.
For example, the Syllabus denied that there are myths in the Bible (#7). As noted above, the pope considered freedom of religion to be untenable (#15). The list condemned the suggestion that the papacy had contributed to the division of the Church into Eastern and Western (#38). And the Syllabus insisted that it was an error to hold that "The Church ought to be separated from the State, and the State from the Church" (#55). Today we do not think of these ideas as errors.
Today the Church lends support to the idea of the separation of Church and State (see Vatican II's Declaration on Religious Liberty), even though the Syllabus condemned it.
Today Catholics are urged to engage in ecumenical dialogue (see Vatican II's Decree on Ecumenism) even though in 1928 Pope Pius XI condemned the ecumenical movement (see Pius XI's Mortalium animos).
Today Catholics do not believe that Jews are rejected by God and accursed as Christ-killers (see Vatican II's Nostra aetate) even though in the 18th century Pope Pius VI forced Jews in the Papal States to live in ghettos and required them to wear badges identifying them as Jews.
The point is: The Church or, more correctly, its members, must expect to grow in understanding and to refine its practices. Of course there are dogmas that will never change; we will never in the future deny Jesus' divinity or Christ's resurrection. But not every papal opinion is dogma. Further there are times when our sitz-im-leben changes, and we must change how we think about it.
The New Testament gives Jesus' assurance that he will send the Spirit of truth to "guide you to all truth...he will declare to you the things to come" (John 16:13). Scholar Raymond Brown's exegesis of that passage is most helpful: "The declaration of the things to come consists in interpreting in relation to each coming generation the contemporary significance of what Jesus has said and done."
We have then a Spirit that helps us to grow in our understanding and to make course corrections when we go astray. With that assurance, we need not fear change or development. The Spirit of God moves us toward the truth.
Accompanying the publication of Quanta Cura was a listing of 80 condemned propositions in a document now known as Pope Pius IX's Syllabus of Errors. Public reaction to the Syllabus, even among Catholics, was largely negative, sometimes hostile.
The problem was: The list included not only opinions which were in essence opposed to Catholic dogma, but also ideas which were not necessarily contrary to dogma.
For example, the Syllabus condemned the proposition that belief in Christ is irrational and that divine revelation is harmful to the perfection of the human race. There was little opposition to condemning that idea.
On the other hand, the Syllabus condemned the proposal that "every man is free to embrace and profess that religion which, guided by the light of reason, he shall consider true." There was much opposition to this condemnation of freedom of conscience.
Whoever put the list together committed himself a great error. The compiler took statements out of context, statements of errors previously condemned in Church and papal documents. For example, taken out of context, the idea that the pope should not come to terms with modern civilization is nonsensical, and yet that is what Error #80 seemed to say. The problem here is that the pope was using the term "civilization" in a very restricted, almost sarcastic way, to refer to new movements which undermined the Church.
At the same time, however, not all "errors" were misunderstandings. Some of the ideas condemned in the Syllabus were later recanted, or re-interpreted.
For example, the Syllabus denied that there are myths in the Bible (#7). As noted above, the pope considered freedom of religion to be untenable (#15). The list condemned the suggestion that the papacy had contributed to the division of the Church into Eastern and Western (#38). And the Syllabus insisted that it was an error to hold that "The Church ought to be separated from the State, and the State from the Church" (#55). Today we do not think of these ideas as errors.
Today the Church lends support to the idea of the separation of Church and State (see Vatican II's Declaration on Religious Liberty), even though the Syllabus condemned it.
Today Catholics are urged to engage in ecumenical dialogue (see Vatican II's Decree on Ecumenism) even though in 1928 Pope Pius XI condemned the ecumenical movement (see Pius XI's Mortalium animos).
Today Catholics do not believe that Jews are rejected by God and accursed as Christ-killers (see Vatican II's Nostra aetate) even though in the 18th century Pope Pius VI forced Jews in the Papal States to live in ghettos and required them to wear badges identifying them as Jews.
The point is: The Church or, more correctly, its members, must expect to grow in understanding and to refine its practices. Of course there are dogmas that will never change; we will never in the future deny Jesus' divinity or Christ's resurrection. But not every papal opinion is dogma. Further there are times when our sitz-im-leben changes, and we must change how we think about it.
The New Testament gives Jesus' assurance that he will send the Spirit of truth to "guide you to all truth...he will declare to you the things to come" (John 16:13). Scholar Raymond Brown's exegesis of that passage is most helpful: "The declaration of the things to come consists in interpreting in relation to each coming generation the contemporary significance of what Jesus has said and done."
We have then a Spirit that helps us to grow in our understanding and to make course corrections when we go astray. With that assurance, we need not fear change or development. The Spirit of God moves us toward the truth.
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