La Croix International takes a summer break during the month of August. And during this month we bring you the best and most relevant articles published during the year that you may have missed or would like to read again.   

First published on Feb. 7, 2023.

-----

(The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official editorial position of La Croix International)

The significance of the Second Vatican Council (1962-65) – despite more than half a century – is still a terra incognita  to very many Catholics. More importantly, it has not been internalized by the majority of clergy – the evidence being that they do not recognize what a definite break it marks with the very limited vision of the Church (the oikoumene) and of the Catholic Church that became dominant in the nineteenth century.

If further proof of this lack of appreciation, and internalization, be needed, then the fact that so much of the talk surrounding synodality, such as that emerging in Germany, is frightening the horses and shows that those frightened had never really studied and made their own Lumen gentium, the Council dogmatic constitution on the Church.

The outburst of fury attacking Pope Francis and synodality that appeared last year was typical of many which show scant understanding of the Council. That it has now emerged as coming from a cardinal is deeply disturbing as an indicator of how carelessly Vatican II is being studied, much less taken to heart.

The more ministers identify as ‘clergy,’ the greater their difficulty in seeing themselves are just other members of the People of God.

The pilgrim People of God

The image of “the pilgrim People of God” was intended to be a biblically rich vision to replace the vision of the Church as an “unequal hierarchical society” (societas inaequalis hierarchica). Yet few organizations have such hierarchically clear levels. The clue is in the name: the Church claims to be hierarchical (in the original sense of its having a divinely-appointed government and in the popular sense of ranks in a pyramid); other power pyramids are only “hierarchical” by analogy.

The Second Vatican Council used the image of the Church as the People of God to emphasize that it is all the baptized, as one community, that witnesses, preaches, works, suffers, and prays.

Put another way, the basis of the Church would be centered around baptism, not ordination. This basic insight of Lumen gentium is only now becoming fully visible. The process of development does not simply explain how we got to where we are, it is ongoing in our life. Development is part of the life of the pilgrim people. This means that as synodality develops, we have to experience the decay of hierarchy.

Being on "The Way"

It would also be a pilgrim Church. It has not yet reached its goal, so cannot think of itself as a societas perfecta. In the older ecclesiology the Church was the perfect beacon that not only other religious organizations but all other societies should imitate.

Vatican II saw the community of the baptized as serving the larger human family, growing, and learning, humbly aware of its incompleteness. After several centuries of triumphalism, taking the pilgrim image on board has been just too much for many of us.

Many of the divisions within contemporary Catholicism can be seen in terms of a willingness, on the one hand, and a reluctance, on the other, to take this image of the Church as a “pilgrim people” to heart.

This is the conciliar background to Pope Francis’ repeated calls for a “synodal Church”. His hope is that synodality will give flesh to Vatican II’s vision.

When we are faced with new images of the Church, our instinct is to look backwards to “the early Church”, to see if we can draw lessons or inspiration from there. This longing to recover some golden age of the first Christians is not new. Already in the early second century, when writing the Acts of the Apostles, Luke presents us with a vision of unity, harmony, and dedication:

All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved (Acts 2:42-7).

Luke’s statement raises some important questions.

• How accurate is his picture of the first Christian communities?
• Does looking backwards reflect a Christian vision?
• And while it is rhetorically powerful, is it pastorally effective?

Problems are part of pilgrimage 

If it were not for the conflicts in the Aegean churches we might never have had the letters of Paul. There were disputes over religious practices and an unwillingness to welcome one another as equals (1 Corinthians) and about what was to be believed and expected (1 Thessalonians).

We know of arguments between Jewish followers and gentile followers of Jesus, about both circumcision and the sharing of resources. Abuses over hospitality and support by “apostles and prophets” generated the first internal Church regulations, and it was not long before the term “christmonger” was coined for ministers greedy for money: there were “clergy on the make” within a few decades of the crucifixion and several centuries before “clergy” emerged. And far from holding all in common, the wealthy kept their slaves, and most did not like practices that challenged the social status quo.

In other words, the first Christians were as challenged as we are by the vocation given us by the Christ. Far from being plaster-cast saints, it was their willingness to keep trying to live the Gospel in a culture that saw them as fools and odd-bods that was their claim to being “among the saints” (Ephesians 5:3). Greco-Roman civilization looked back to “a golden age” since the time things started going downhill. But Christians were different. They looked to the future: to the coming of the Son of Man. At the heavenly banquet people will be gathered from north, south, east and west. They are on a journey.

Synodality is focused on the future

This colors our thinking about the Church, and about synodality. We do not imagine that there was a perfect time which we are seeking to re-create, but we, confident in God’s help, ask what we should become.

Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me” (Matthew 25:34-6).

We are not engaged in a restoration project. 

Luke’s device of imagining a perfect past as a blueprint – a technique he borrowed from Greek history writing – engages the human propensity for nostalgia: “We shall not see their like!” But the sense that it was somehow easier for the first Christians -- that they belonged to the “age of the saints”, “the springtime” -- disempowers us. Inherent in this is a lack of faith that our moment is as beloved of the Creator who holds it in being as that of those called to witness in the first days.

The times have changed, but the call to follow and witness – amid the particular difficulties of our age – is always the same. Those early Aegean churches and our churches today are one in hearing: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe” (John 20:29).

Being disciples

Something else distinguishes the pilgrim people from the societas perfecta: discipleship. Until the 1930s most mainstream Churches were united in thinking of belonging in terms of identification and the acceptance of specific beliefs. The matter of identification was seen in their desire to be recognized within legal frameworks: ideally, establishment, but at least giving their leaders a say in education or social policy. Likewise, individual belonging was presented as assent to certain propositions. Churches and denominations had their “truths to be accepted” (credenda). There were a list of boxes to be ticked.

The sneering lie on the gate into Dachau: it was in this experience that some of the followers of Jesus rediscovered both the cost of discipleship and the poverty of our inherited theologies. (Photo by Thomas O’Loughlin)

Then came movements such as Fascism, Nazism and Communism. Identification and assent to propositions was no longer enough to “belong” – as was recognized by theologians like Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906 – 9 April 1945). One had to become a disciple.

The Disciple as "Apprentice"

The disciple – more an “apprentice” than a “student” – knows that one cannot just talk the talk, but must also walk the walk, as they say. And this is the walk of the pilgrim. Discipleship costs.

Or as our formal memory (Mark 10:38) presents the desire of disciples looking towards their destination: “You do not know what you ask. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?”

The “synodal Church” is not an exercise in nostalgia, an attempt to recreate an illusory early church without disagreement or dissent. Pope Francis’ dream is that synodality will bring about Vatican II’s vision of a pilgrim Church of disciples, “among the saints”. Not because they are perfect but because they are disciples, humble witnesses to the Gospel of mercy. 

Thomas O'Loughlin is a presbyter of the Catholic Diocese of Arundel and Brighton and professor-emeritus of historical theology at the University of Nottingham (UK). His latest book is Eating Together, Becoming One: Taking Up Pope Francis's Call to Theologians (Liturgical Press, 2019).