Dogmas and Dogs
Introduction
Church Unity Octave
From the 18th to the 25th of
January (last Wednesday), the feast of
the Conversion of St. Paul, the Roman
Catholic Church always observes an octave of prayer for the unity of the
Christian Church. At midnight Mass last Christmas Eve, the pope opened the holy
door of Jubilee 2000 in St. Peter’s Basilica. On Christmas day itself, he
opened the holy door of St. John
Lateran (his cathedral church). On January 1st, feast of the
solemnity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, he opened the holy door of St. Mary
Major. On the Sunday before the feast of the conversion of St. Paul (i.e. last Sunday), he opened the last holy
doors in Rome: that of the Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Wall (outside the
ancient Roman wall surrounding the city of Rome).
Fortunately for me, last Sunday late in the
afternoon, I happened to turn on cable
TV, EWTN, and caught the
ceremony. John Paul had just opened the holy door of St. Paul’s, and was now
presiding over an ecumenical prayer service in
the basilica. Fortunately for me, I say, because when I am in Rome, St. Paul Outside the Wall is always my
parish church. I live two block from
the basilica, and I know that marvelous edifice almost as well as I know Old
St. Mary’s. There the Pope was
presiding under a huge mosaic of
Christ who himself is presiding
from the lofty curved ceiling of the sanctuary. The mosaic is icon-style with the usual fierce features of a very
strong Christ.
The church was packed. Leaders and representatives from all the great Christian religions were present. The Anglicans with their British accent were there. The Orthodox, bearded and heads veiled in black, were there. The Lutherans with the heavy accent of Luther’s native land were there. All of them participated. All rose to pray or read or speak about the unity of the Church of Christ, before the bishop Rome, Pope John Paul II. All were voicing one and the same aspiration so very well-expressed in the very opening words of today’s mass: “Save us, Lord our God, and gather us together from the nations, that we may proclaim your holy name and glory in your praise.” Save us, and gather us together.
Ecumenism :the
church’s mission
As the first Good Friday
was drawing near, Caiphas, the high priest, speaking to the Sanhedrin (the
Jewish Council) said to them, “Don’t you realize it is better that one man die
for the nation than to have the whole nation destroyed?” John says that with those words the high
priest “was prophesying that Jesus was
going to die for the Jewish people, and not only for them but in order to gather
together the scattered children of God” (Jn 11:52). The mission of Christ: “to gather together the
scattered children of God.” The mission of the Church? None other than that of Christ: “to gather
together the scattered children of God.”
Not
to divide and scatter the children of God, not to set one human being
against another, but to gather them together into one. Whenever church or
synagogue divides and scatters, whenever it sets one human being against
another, it is false. It is scandalous. It is, in fact, traitor to its very own
mission. and to its very root meaning. In Greek, “church” comes from a Greek
verb which means “to gather.” In Hebrew
“synagogue” comes from a Hebrew word which likewise means “to gather.” On the
other hand, whenever church or synagogue calls the many together and makes them
one, it is true. It is faithful to
itself. It is busy with its finest business.
The ecumenical question
and problem is this: How do the many become one? How do a "good Italian
Catholic" girl and a "good German Lutheran" boy become one? "Good Catholic" means Holy Mass
and Communion, respect for the Holy Father,
devotion to the Holy Mother of
God, and things you bless with holy water.
And "good Lutheran" means the Bible, Jesus the personal
Savior, and justification not by works but by faith alone. (When religion
doesn't really mean that much to the boy and girl, there isn't much of a
problem. And that's often the case.)
The ecumenical question
(how do the many become one) is really not just a religious problem; it’s the
constant problem of our daily lives.
How does “any many” become one (not
just Catholics and Lutherans)? How do
Israeli and Palestinians become one?
How do Gentiles and Jews become one? How do male and female become one in
society and Church? How do blacks and whites become one in Milwaukee? How do
the followers of the Council of Trent (the Latin Mass people) and the followers
of the Second Vatican Council become
one? Yes, how do husband and wife
become one? How do children and their
parents become one?
The answer: the many
become one not by winning but by losing. (That’s not the total answer but it is a good part of the whole
answer.) The many become one not by
winning but by losing; not by the one
winning over the other but by both losing whatever it is that each should be losing. Sounds strange, doesn’t it, that sometimes
the way to win is to lose? But strange also are the words of Jesus, “"Who
saves one's life loses it, and who loses one's life saves it" (Mk
8:35). Believe it or not, that’s meant
to be a formula for success!
In religious ecumenism,
just as in the “ecumenism” of our daily lives, nothing may be used as a
substitute for losing: neither lofty discussions among theologians, nor united
social action among the churches, nor
even high-ranking and impressive
ecumenical prayer services in towering edifices like St. Paul’s Outside the Wall. All those Anglican,
Orthodox, Lutheran, and Roman Catholic leaders, scholars, and theologians gathered in St. Paul’s last
Sunday, all of them will have to lose
something. And precisely because they are scholars, leaders and
theologians, they have a lot to lose. And those who have a lot to lose like losing
the least. That’s why they don’t make
good ecumenists, don’t make good unifiers of the Church of Christ. That’s not a criticism; just a simple statement of a psychological law.
It is the People
who make the best ecumenists, the best church-unifiers, for they have almost
nothing to lose, except the sense that so much of the religious division and
controversy doesn't make any sense at all.
It’s the people who make
the best ecumenists. Takes the case of Lisa, a marvelous Chicago relative of
mine. Comes from a “good Italian Catholic family.” Lived in a household that
included Grandma and Grandpa, nonno and nonna. The family boasts of a Monsignor (in Lucca Italy -- recently died), nonno’s brother, and two priests: one an African missionary and the other a Milwaukee
Capuchin. How do you like that for “a good
Italian Catholic family?” Lisa was always the apple of nonna’s eye –
grandma who prayed rosaries all day long.
Well, wouldn’t you know, Lisa ups one day and falls in love with a “good
German Lutheran.” And what was even worse, he was and is devoted to his
Lutheran faith. He is in fact a kind of deacon in his church, even writes music
for it.
Well, how did the many
become one in that case? His minister
and I married them off in her Catholic church. His minister and I, both of us together, poured the waters of
baptism over their six childrens’ heads in his Lutheran church. One
Sunday they might receive Communion
in the Catholic church and
another Sunday in the Lutheran church.
They chuckle when they tell me, “We’re raising “Cath-erans.” By the way, the kids aren’t confused at all;
adults might be confused but they’re not.
Peace and reconciliation shouldn’t confuse people, but warfare among
Christians should. How did the many become one in this case? Not by the one winning over the other but by
the both of them losing something that each were called upon to lose. And by
both losing, both have now won.
It is the People
who make the best ecumenists, for they don’t have much to lose except the sense
that so much of the religious division doesn't make any sense at all. They
don’t follow any rules of the game; only the rules that are in their human and
Christian hearts. And they unleash their ecumenism not in such lofty places
like St. Paul’s Outside the Wall but in the most unlikely places.
I remember one day when
ecumenism happened in a supermarket parking place. I had just returned to the car where my dog, Tina, was
waiting. A woman passing remarked:
"Oh what a beautiful dog!" (I like people who like my dog.) We talked
a bit. She was a Lutheran and I a
Catholic. She taught however in a Catholic grade school, and was a bit
surprised at the liberal attitude toward inter-Communion at that school. Her own Lutheran denomination forbade
it. Well, the two of us put our heads
together, and we solved this "very difficult ecumenical problem" with
remarkable ease: the Bread of Unity, we thought, shouldn't be turned into a
rock of division. Even Satan, the
tempter of Jesus, knows better: you turn stones into bread, but not bread into
stones!
Suddenly, with tears in her eyes, she said again: "Oh, what a beautiful dog! Recently we had to put ours to sleep." She added: "I know our faith tells us that only we humans have souls and that dogs don't go to heaven. But that's not very consoling." Well, the two of us put our heads together and solved that one too with remarkable ease: We wondered where do we get all this triumphalism of us humans over animals? And how does her minister or my priest know for sure what has a soul and what doesn't? And what gets into Paradise and what doesn't? Shouldn't something so loyal and loving as my dog, Tina, and her dog be eternally rescued and in some way inherit the kingdom along with us? In fact, St. Paul says that, “The whole of creation (not just some of it) is in tiptoe expectation of the day of glory “ (Phillips Modern English). “For we know that even the things of nature, like animals and plants, suffer in sickness and death, as they await this great event” (Living Bible, Rom 8:19-23). All that was indeed consoling for the both of us.
Ecumenism had happened in
the marketplace. The many had become one.
There was no victory of the one over the other. She didn't win, and I didn't win. We both had, in fact, lost: She lost some of her
"orthodox" Lutheran faith, and I had lost some of my
"orthodox" Catholic faith.
And in the losing, we both had won!
As we parted, she still a Lutheran and I still a Catholic, I chuckled inside myself: there we go -- divided by dogmas but united by dogs.