Carl E. Olson's Blog, page 162
March 19, 2013
The Pope and the Poor
The Pope and the Poor | Fr. James V. Schall, S.J. | Catholic World Report
A Jesuit reflects on the new pontificate and the problem of poverty
The day following the election of the archbishop of Buenos Aires to the
papacy, I must have received fifty e-mails from friends and family
asking if I knew the man or had any comment on him. What struck me was
how little we knew about him. If he has a paper trail (the previous
three popes had extensive ones), it is yet to reach us, though I did
read the following comment from a statement in Buenos Aires a couple of
years ago: “We hope legislators, heads of state, and health
professionals, conscious of the dignity of human life and the rootedness
of the family in our peoples, will defend and protect it from the
abominable crimes of abortion and euthanasia, that is their
responsibility.” I presume Ignatius Press is busily translating and
preparing what we do have for English publication. What we do have are
actions taken and gestures made while he was Jesuit provincial and a
bishop in Argentina. He rides the bus, leads a simple life, and loves
the poor.
Though Cardinal Bergoglio was reportedly a contender in the previous
conclave, his age and health seemed to militate against him, but in
retrospect only “seemed.” They turned out to be advantages. We are
reminded that Pope Leo XIII was elected as a sort of interim pope but he
lasted twenty-five productive years. With the voluntary retirement of
Benedict XVI, the whole issue of a pope’s health has changed. I have
heard it said that Pope Francis has only one lung. Well, I figure if
Schall can get by with one eye, the man on the Chair of Peter can get by
with one lung!
Two things immediately strike us about Pope Francis: he is from
Argentina and he is a Jesuit. Neither one of these may mean much in the
long run. He is now in an office that transcends both, but does not
necessarily bypass them. Pope Francis will clearly, I think, have
cordial relations with Benedict XVI, as well as with the Jesuit General
and the Latin American Bishops’ Conference, not to mention the
Franciscans. He is a friend of Opus Dei. With John Paul II and Benedict,
we have become used to the attention paid to the various Orthodox
traditions, and this connection will continue. Francis was a friend of
the Ukrainian Catholic community in Argentina, and he will be meeting
this Wednesday with delegates from several Eastern Catholic Churches.
It seems pretty well settled that Francis is Francis of Assisi, not
Francis Borgia, Francis Xavier, or Francis de Sales. Yet probably every
Francis is ultimately named after Francis of Assisi.
March 18, 2013
Piers, Penn, and the Essence of Catholicism
by Brian Jones | CWR blog
At the end of a Wednesday evening class last semester, one of my students approached me to ask a question. After hesitating somewhat, he proceeded in the following manner: “Professor, I really have enjoyed your class, but you always teach as though Catholicism is true. You rarely talk about other religions, of which I was actually hoping to learn more about.” I reminded the troubled young man that he should re-read the syllabus, since “Teachings of the Catholic Church” is actually the official course title. The humorous encounter reminded me of Walker Percy’s response to the question of why he became a Catholic: “What else is there?” How ironic, yet typical of most university students, that someone would be taking a course on Catholicism and simultaneously be disgruntled that this is precisely what he is getting.
The history of Catholicism has thankfully shown us that there is a tremendous pedagogical character regarding the nature of error: it helps us achieve greater clarity on a particular matter that may have, up to that point, been otherwise. Moreover, error also helps us to see whether or not the one committing it has willfully chosen it. It would be safe to say that the latter is a hallmark of many post-modern Catholics. The student mentioned in the beginning was, in my estimation, suffering from a high degree of excusable ignorance; he did not have a full grasp of what he was asking, and seemed more the result of a cultural that had groomed him to accept relativism a priori. Others, have fallen away from the faith, not by an excusable ignorance or happenstance, but by a mode of living that refuses to conform itself to the demands of the faith.
These preliminary points came to mind last week as I watched the brief exchange between Piers Morgan and Penn Jillette (easily accessible on YouTube).
March 17, 2013
"Twelve-Step 'Pride Elimination' Plan", by Dr. Donald DeMarco
Twelve-Step “Pride Elimination” Plan | Donald DeMarco, Ph.D. | Homiletic & Pastoral Review
At the end of Lent, as we are called to put the Crucified One at the center of our lives, we are also encouraged to let go of the many subtle ways pride tempts us to keep ourselves at the heart of things.
Pride is the deadliest of the deadly sins. It is unrealistic, unattractive, and unprofitable. One would have to be rather foolish, it seems, to grant significant room in his life for pride. If the devil could laugh, and the angels could weep, they would do so over the way we human beings stubbornly cling to ourselves as the center and the meaning of reality. That is pride. Yet, of all the seven deadly sins, it is the most subtle to diagnose, the most common, and the most difficult to eliminate. We should note, however, that not all pride is deadly (cf. 1 Jn 5:17). There is a sense in which pride is fully justified. A parent has this kind of “good” pride when his children attain some standard of excellence. Likewise, a coach can be proud of his players for comporting themselves with good sportsmanship. Good pride conforms to a good standard; bad pride does not. St. Thomas Aquinas referred to this latter kind of pride as the attempt to achieve a “perverse excellence.” Though it has many facets, this form of pride is, basically, an inordinate desire for praise, honors, and recognition. Because it is “inordinate,” it is out of synchrony with whom we really are, as well as our proper place in the grand scheme of things. “In general,” as John Ruskin has remarked, “pride is at the bottom of all great mistakes.”
At the end of Lent, as we are called to put the Crucified One at the center of our lives, we are also encouraged to let go of the many subtle ways pride tempts us to keep ourselves at the heart of things. Here are some points for our own examination of conscience as we stand before the pierced heart of Jesus.
Pride as Unrealistic:
1) Pride is unrealistic on a personal level. We are not the cause of our own being. We do not bestow upon ourselves whatever gifts we have. Our life is short, and our hour fleeting. It is, as Shakespeare called it, a “brief candle.” It is a mere moment in time, a veritable sliver wedged between two eternities. It makes far more sense that humble gratitude be our dominant characteristic rather than pride. One thing we can truly take credit for is our willingness to attain such humble gratitude.
2) Pride is unrealistic on an historical level. Piety is one virtue that has lost a great deal of its force and beauty in the present era. It honors the historical factors that give us, not only our life, but all the opportunities, conveniences, blessings, and riches to which we are heir. Thus, we honor our parents and our ancestry, as well as our tradition. Because we receive more than we can possibly give, an attitude of thanksgiving seems to be far appropriate than the desire to seek praise.
3) Pride is unrealistic on a social level.
March 16, 2013
Casting the First Stone
Readings:
• Is 43:16-21
• Ps 126:1-2, 2-3, 4-5, 6
• Phil 3:8-14
• Jn 8:1-11
Imagine being caught in a most serious and embarrassing sin, then taken into a crowded public area and placed before the man who will, apparently, determine your fate. You stand in the middle, between your accusers and your judge, like someone walking a tightrope with doom, perhaps death, waiting on either end.
You are lost, alone, damned. And you know you are guilty of the sin of which you have been accused. The only unsettled matter is the exact form of your punishment. You only hope it isn’t death.
We all have something in common with the woman caught in adultery: we are sinners in desperate need of mercy, without argument or alibi, completely at the mercy of a righteous judge. Lent, of course, is meant to remind us of this need for God’s mercy and forgiveness, not in order to make us feel enslaved, but to recognize anew the joy of salvation. “Those that sow tears,” today’s responsorial Psalm states, “shall reap rejoicing.”
A word that stands out to me in the story of Jesus and the adulterous woman is “caught.” The woman had been caught in adultery—probably through devious means, based on the absence of the guilty man. The scribes and the Pharisees hoped Jesus would be caught in their legal snare. Their trap was simple and seemingly airtight. The Law was clear about the punishment for sins such as adultery: “If a man is found lying with the wife of another man, both of them shall die, the man who lay with the woman, and the woman; so you shall purge the evil from Israel.” (Deut. 22:22; cf. Lev. 20:10). If Jesus allowed the woman to live, he would be accused of acting contrary to the Law. But, as St. Bede noted, if Jesus “determined that she was to be stoned, they would scoff at him inasmuch as he forgotten the mercy that he was always teaching.”
Jesus’ response was brilliant on both the legal and spiritual levels. First, he bent down and began to write on the ground, the only instance of Jesus writing that is recorded in the Gospels. What did he write? Speculation abounds. Perhaps the sins of some of the accusers? Perhaps something from the Law, such as, “You shall not join hands with a wicked man, to be a malicious witness” (Ex. 23:1)?
Whatever the words were that Jesus traced on the ground, they set up his stunning riposte: “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” This turned the rhetorical thrust of the scribes and Pharisees back into themselves. In so doing, Jesus presented the accusers with difficult options: if any of them did throw a stone, he would have outrageously declared his moral perfection. And if anyone threw stones, they likely risked being severely punished by the Romans (cf. Jn. 18:31). If none of them threw a stone, they would admit implicitly their sinfulness. They were caught.
It wasn’t just that the scribes and Pharisees were sinners; it was the fact that Jesus had exposed their unjust and sinful use of the woman as a pawn. “He recognizes that,” observed Fr. Raymond Brown, “although they are zealous for the word of the Law, they are not interested in the purpose of the Law…” Beaten at their own game, the accusers melted away. “The two were left alone,” wrote St. Augustine in a memorable description, “the wretched woman and Mercy.”
Now you are standing face to face with the righteous teacher and merciful judge. You know your sins; you are well aware of what you deserve. Further, you know that Jesus has not overlooked your sins. “Therefore the Lord did also condemn,” insisted Augustine, “but condemned sins, not the sinner.” And so, while rejecting your sin, he accepts you. He invites you to a radical life of discipleship, liberated from sin and free from being precariously balanced between accusation and damnation.
(This "Opening the Word" column originally appeared in the March 21, 2010, edition of Our Sunday Visitor newspaper.)
March 15, 2013
Vatican insider to release the definitive biography on the Pope of a New World
Andrea Tornielli will release new book on Pope Francis in April
ATLANTA, March 14, 2013 – “Francis, rebuild my Church!” This is how St. Francis of Assisi recounts Christ’s call of the founder of the Franciscan Order. It is also how Jorge Mario Bergoglio, at the age of 76, and a Jesuit, seems to have accepted his election to the papacy with the choice of a name that no other
pope has ever chosen.
So, who is Pope Francis, elected in one of the shortest conclaves in history? Who is this man chosen to be the first Pope from the Americas and the first Jesuit Pope? What does he think? How does he understand his call to serve Christ, his Church, and the world? Will he compromise on the Church’s moral teachings? Will he face the scandals of the Church head-on?
Drawing from the words, ideas, and the personal recollection of Pope Francis – including inside material made available right up to the final hours before his election – the most highly regarded Vatican observer, Andrea Tornielli, reveals who the new Pope will be for both a Church and a world in need of transformation.
“Francis, Pope of a New World,” published by Ignatius Press, is a definitive and complete biography on Pope Francis. It will provide the keys to understanding the man who was a surprise choice, even a revolutionary choice, for pope. It is the story of a humble pastor of one of the world’s largest archdioceses; a cardinal, who takes the bus, spends time in the street talking to the community, pays his own bills and makes his own meals, and lives simply. It is the story of why the cardinal electors of the Catholic Church set aside political and diplomatic calculations to elect a pope who will lead the renewal and purification of the worldwide Church of our time.
Contact Lisa Wheeler (770-591-0045 or LWheeler@CarmelCommunications.com) or Kevin Wandra (404-788-1276 or KWandra@CarmelCommunications.com) of Carmel Communications for more information or to schedule interviews for when the book is released.
Pope Francis praises Benedict XVI, encourages cardinals
Pope Francis met today with the cardinals in the Clementine Hall and spoke a bit about his predecessor, saying that Benedict XVI "“lit a flame in the depths of our hearts.” The New York Times reports:
After a day on Thursday when he seemed to bring a new and more frugal tone to the Vatican, Francis spoke to the cardinals — the so-called princes of the church — urging them to persevere and find ways to spread word of their faith around the world.
“Let us not give in to pessimism, to that bitterness that the devil offers us every day,” he said. But he offered no direct allusion to the myriad challenges facing the Vatican from a series of sexual abuse, financial and other scandals swirling around the church, overwhelming Benedict’s papacy.
The reference to the devil comes a day after his first homily, in which the newly elected pontiff said, "When we do not profess Jesus Christ, the saying of Léon Bloy comes to mind: "Anyone who does not pray to the Lord prays to the devil." When we do not profess Jesus Christ, we profess the worldliness of the devil, a demonic worldliness." An emerging theme of the young pontificate seems to be that of spiritual battle against the devil, expressed in direct, simple language. Also:
March 14, 2013
Pope Francis and the Humility of Orthodoxy
Pope Francis and the Humility of Orthodoxy
| Carl E. Olson | Catholic World Report | Editorial
The newly elected pontiff demonstrates how Catholicism is both consistently compelling and often very unpredictable.
For many people, including many Catholics, the Catholic Church is too old-fashioned, staid, and boring, supposedly failing to be "relevant" and "with the times." And yet, the ancient traditions and venerable institutions of the Church—especially the papacy—continue to fascinate and even transfix the world at large. And today's events in Rome demonstrate this fact, showing that Catholicism, far from being dull and predictable, is both consistently compelling and often very unpredictable.
Pope Francis is Exhibit A through Z. First, the unpredictable. Although the Argentinian Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio was reportedly a runner-up in the 2005 papal election, he wasn't on most short lists for this conclave, largely because he is 76 years old, just two years younger than was Cardinal Ratzinger eight years ago. While the possibility of a pope from the Americas seemed more likely than ever before, the names mentioned were mostly from North America, especially Cardinals Dolan and O'Malley.
And yet, just 24 hours and a few votes into the conclave, the first pope from the Americas was introduced to the world. He also is the first pope who belongs to the Society of Jesus, which is something to ponder considering the Jesuits were founded nearly 500 years ago, but also because his taken name, Francis, seems more Franciscan than Jesuit.
Yet even the name comes with a twist or, better, with layers of possible meaning. Most people, understandably, think of St. Francis of Assisi, known for his poverty and humility. That is certainly in keeping with Bergoglio's modest, working-class roots and his widely acknowledged humble and low-key approach, evidenced by his regular use of the bus in Buenos Aires.
But St. Francis of Assisi, viewing the dilapidated church of St. Damian, was told by Jesus Christ, "Francis, go and repair my house, which you see is falling down." There has been much talk of "reform", and most of it has centered not on changing Church doctrine—which needs to be communicated, not reformed—but on cleaning up corruption and rooting out spiritual sloth. Such repair is ever necessary in the household of God, the Church.
However, two other Francis's—both of them Jesuits—must be mentioned, both very likely on the mind of Pope Francis.
March 13, 2013
Who is Jorge Mario Bergoglio?
Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio, S.J., Archbishop of Buenos Aires, Argentina, Ordinary for Eastern-rite faithful in Argentina who lack an Ordinary of their own rite, was born on 17 December 1936 in Buenos Aires. He studied as and holds a degree as a chemical technician, but then chose the priesthood and entered the seminary of Villa Devoto. On 11 March 1958 he moved to the novitiate of the Company of Jesus where he finished studies in the humanities in Chile. In 1963, on returning to Buenos Aires, he obtained a degree in philosophy at the St. Joseph major seminary of San Miguel.
Between 1964 and 1965 he taught literature and psychology at the Immacolata College in Santa Fe and then in 1966 he taught the same subjects at the University of El Salvador, in Buenos Aires.
From 1967 to 1970 he studied theology at the St. Joseph major seminary of San Miguel where he obtained a degree. On 13 December 1969 he was ordained a priest. From 1970 to 1971 he completed the third probation at Alcala de Henares, Spain, and on 22 April 1973, pronounced his perpetual vows.
He was novice master at Villa Varilari in San Miguel from 1972 to 1973, where he also taught theology. On 31 July 1973 he was elected as Provincial for Argentina, a role he served as for six years.
From 1980 to 1986 he was rector of the Philosophical and Theological Faculty of San Miguel as well as pastor of the Patriarca San Jose parish in the Diocese of San Miguel. In March of 1986 he went to Germany to finish his doctoral thesis. The superiors then sent him to the University of El Salvador and then to Cordoba where he served as a confessor and spiritual director.
On 20 May 1992, John Paul II appointed him titular Bishop of Auca and Auxiliary of Buenos Aires, He received episcopal consecration in the Cathedral of Buenos Aires from Cardinal Antonio Quarracino, Apostolic Nunzio Ubaldo Calabresi, and Bishop Emilio Ognenovich. of Mercedes-Lujan on 27 June of that year.
On 3 June 1997 he was appointed Coadjutor Archbishop of Buenos Aires and succeeded Cardinal Antonio Quarracino on 28 February 1998.
He was Adjunct Relator General of the 10th Ordinary General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops, October 2001.
He served as President of the Bishops' Conference of Argentina from 8 November 2005 until 8 November 2011.
He was created and proclaimed Cardinal by Blessed John Paul II in the consistory of 21 February 2001, of the Title of S. Roberto Bellarmino (St. Robert Bellarmine).
He was a member of:
The Congregations for Divine Worship and Discipline of the Sacraments; for the Clergy; and for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life; the Pontifical Council for the Family; and the Pontifical Commission for Latin America.
Bishop Robert F. Vasa: The CWR Interview
"A failure to do that is an abdication of my responsibility."
| Carl E. Olson | Catholic World Report
Bishop Robert F. Vasa talks about education, witness, conscience, responsibility, faithfulness—and Benedict XVI.
His
Excellency, Bishop Robert F. Vasa, is the sixth bishop of the Diocese of
Santa Rosa, California. Prior to coming to Santa Rosa in January 2010,
he was the bishop of the Diocese of Baker, Oregon, for ten years. Bishop
Vasa recently required the 200 teachers in the diocesan schools to sign an
addendum to their contracts, titled "Bearing Witness". This addendum
acknowledges that they are called "to a life of holiness" and that "this
call is the more compelling for me since I have been entrusted, in my
vocation as a teacher/administrator in a Catholic school, with the
formation of souls." It also states, "I am especially cognizant of the
fact that modern errors -- including but not limited to matters that
gravely offend human dignity and the common good such as contraception,
abortion, homosexual 'marriage' and euthanasia -- while broadly accepted
in society, are not consistent with the clear teachings of the Catholic
Church."
Bishop Vasa spoke last week with Carl E. Olson,
editor of Catholic World Report, about the controversy over his
directive, the proper goals of Catholic education, the serious
misunderstandings that exist about "conscience", and some of the biggest
challenges facing the Church in the United States.
CWR: You
had a similar situation when you were the bishop of the Diocese of
Baker, Oregon, where you asked all those involved in catechesis—
Bishop Vasa: —in ecclesial ministries of one kind or another.
CWR: —to sign. How similar are the two situations?
Bishop Vasa: It was the same general principle, but it is different
here because it involves people who work for me in a contractual
relationship because I am their employer.
CWR: And the
situation in Oregon involved people who were sometimes volunteers and
such.
Bishop Vasa: Right.
CWR: You know the lay of
the land and you surely expected some negative reaction. Did the
reaction live up to your expectations?
March 11, 2013
"Peter and Succession" by Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger
Peter and Succession | by Joseph
Cardinal Ratzinger
From Called
To Communion: Understanding the Church Today
Editor's
note: This is the second half of a chapter titled "The Primacy of Peter
and Unity of the Church." The first half examines the status of Peter in
the New Testament and the commission logion contained in Matthew 16:17-19.
The principle of succession in general
That the primacy of Peter is recognizable in all the major strands of the
New Testament is incontestable.
The real difficulty arises when we come to the second question: Can the idea of a Petrine succession be justified? Even more difficult is the third
question that is bound up with it: Can the Petrine succession of Rome be
credibly substantiated?
Concerning the first question, we must first of all note that there is no
explicit statement regarding the Petrine succession in the New Testament.
This is not surprising, since neither the Gospels nor the chief Pauline
epistles address the problem of a postapostolic Church—which, by the
way, must be mentioned as a sign of the Gospels' fidelity to tradition.
Indirectly, however, this problem can be detected in the Gospels once we
admit the principle of form critical method according to which only what
was considered in the respective spheres of tradition as somehow meaningful
for the present was preserved in writing as such. This would mean, for example,
that toward the end of the first century, when Peter was long dead, John
regarded the former's primacy, not as a thing of the past, but as a present
reality for the Church.
For many even believe—though perhaps with a
little too much imagination—that they have good grounds for interpreting
the "competition" between Peter and the beloved disciple as an echo of
the tensions between Rome's claim to primacy and the sense of dignity
possessed by the Churches of Asia Minor. This would certainly be a very
early and, in addition, inner-biblical proof that Rome was seen as continuing
the Petrine line; but we should in no case rely on such uncertain hypotheses.
The fundamental idea, however, does seem to me correct, namely, that the
traditions of the New Testament never reflect an interest of purely historical
curiosity but are bearers of present reality and in that sense constantly
rescue things from the mere past, without blurring the special status
of the origin.
Moreover, even scholars who deny the principle itself have propounded
hypotheses of succession. 0. Cullmann, for example, objects in a very
clear-cut fashion to the idea of succession, yet he believes that he can
Show that Peter was replaced by James and that this latter assumed the
primacy of the erstwhile first apostle. Bultmann believes that he is correct
in concluding from the mention of the three pillars in Galatians 2:9 that
the course of development led away from a personal to a collegial leadership
and that a college entered upon the succession of Peter. [1]
We have no need to discuss these hypotheses and
others like them; their foundation is weak enough. Nevertheless, they
do show that it is impossible to avoid the idea of succession once the
word transmitted in Scripture is considered to be a sphere open to the
future. In those writings of the New Testament that stand on the cusp
of the second generation or else already belong to it-especially in the
Acts of the Apostles and in the Pastoral Letters—the principle of
succession does in fact take on concrete shape.
The Protestant notion that the "succession" consists
solely in the word as such, but not in any "structures", is proved to
be anachronistic in light of what in actual fact is the form of tradition
in the New Testament. The word is tied to the witness, who guarantees
it an unambiguous sense, which it does not possess as a mere word floating
in isolation. But the witness is not an individual who stands independently
on his own. He is no more a wit ness by virtue of himself and of his own
powers of memory than Peter can be the rock by his own strength. He is
not a witness as "flesh and blood" but as one who is linked to the Pneuma,
the Paraclete who authenticates the truth and opens up the memory and,
in his turn, binds the witness to Christ. For the Paraclete does not speak
of himself, but he takes from "what is his" (that is, from what is Christ's:
Jn 16: 13).
This binding of the witness to the Pneuma and to his mode of being-"not
of himself, but what he hears" -is called "sacrament" in the language
of the Church. Sacrament designates a threefold knot-word, witness, Holy
Spirit and Christ-which describes the essential structure of succession
in the New Testament. We can infer with certainty from the testimony of
the Pastoral Letters and of the Acts of the Apostles that the apostolic
generation already gave to this interconnection of person and word in
the believed presence of the Spirit and of Christ the form of the laying
on of hands.
The Petrine succession in Rome
In opposition to the New Testament pattern of succession described above,
which withdraws the word from human manipulation precisely by binding
witnesses into its service, there arose very early on an intellectual
and anti-institutional model known historically by the name of Gnosis,
which made the free interpretation and speculative development of the
word its principle. Before long the appeal to individual witnesses no
longer sufficed to counter the intellectual claim advanced by this tendency.
It became necessary to have fixed points by which to orient the testimony
itself, and these were found in the so-called apostolic sees, that is,
in those where the apostles had been active. The apostolic sees became
the reference point of true communio. But among these sees there was in
turn–quite clearly in Irenaeus of Lyons–a decisive criterion
that recapitulated all others: the Church of Rome, where Peter and Paul
suffered martyrdom. It was with this Church that every community had to
agree; Rome was the standard of the authentic apostolic tradition as a
whole.
Moreover, Eusebius of Caesarea organized the first version of his ecclesiastical
history in accord with the same principle. It was to be a written record
of the continuity of apostolic succession, which was concentrated in the
three Petrine sees Rome, Antioch and Alexandria-among which Rome, as the
site of Peter's martyrdom, was in turn preeminent and truly normative.
[2]
This leads us to a very fundamental observation. [3] The Roman primacy,
or, rather, the acknowledgement of Rome as the criterion of the right
apostolic faith, is older than the canon of the New Testament, than "Scripture".
We must be on our guard here against an almost inevitable
illusion. "Scripture" is more recent than "the scriptures" of which it
is composed. It was still a long time before the existence of the individual
writings resulted in the "New Testament" as Scripture, as the Bible. The
assembling of the writings into a single Scripture is more properly speaking
the work of tradition, a work that began in the second century but came
to a kind of conclusion only in the fourth or fifth century. Harnack,
a witness who cannot be suspected of pro-Roman bias, has remarked in this
regard that it was only at the end of the second century, in Rome, that
a canon of the "books of the New Testament" won recognition by the criterion
of apostolicity-catholicity, a criterion to which the other Churches also
gradually subscribed "for the sake of its intrinsic value and on the strength
of the authority of the Roman Church".
We can therefore say that Scripture became Scripture
through the tradition, which precisely in this process included the potentior
principalitas–the preeminent original authority–of the Roman
see as a constitutive element.
Two points emerge clearly from what has just been First, the principle
of tradition in its sacramental form-apostolic succession—played
a constitutive role in the existence and continuance of the Church. Without
this principle, it is impossible to conceive of a New Testament at all,
so that we are caught in a contradiction when we affirm the one while
wanting to deny the other. Furthermore, we have seen that in Rome the
traditional series of bishops was from the very beginning recorded as
a line of successors.
We can add that Rome and Antioch were conscious
of succeeding to the mission of Peter and that early on Alexandria was
admitted into the circle of Petrine sees as the city where Peter's disciple
Mark had been active. Having said all that, the site of Peter's martyrdom
nonetheless appears clearly as the chief bearer of his supreme authority
and plays a preeminent role in the formation of tradition which is constitutive
of the Church-and thus in the genesis of the New Testament as Bible; Rome
is one of the indispensable internal and external- conditions of its possibility.
It would be exciting to trace the influence on this process of the idea
that the mission of Jerusalem had passed over to Rome, which explains
why at first Jerusalem was not only not a "patriarchal see" but not even
a metropolis: Jerusalem was now located in Rome, and since Peter's departure
from that city, its primacy had been transferred to the capital of the
pagan world. [4]
But to consider this in detail would lead us too far afield for the moment.
The essential point, in my opinion, has already become plain: the martyrdom
of Peter in Rome fixes the place where his function continues. The awareness
of this fact can be detected as early as the first century in the Letter
of Clement, even though it developed but slowly in all its particulars.
Concluding reflections
We shall break off at this point, for the chief goal of our considerations
has been attained. We have seen that the New Testament as a whole strikingly
demonstrates the primacy of Peter; we have seen that the formative development
of tradition and of the Church supposed the continuation of Peter's authority
in Rome as an intrinsic condition. The Roman primacy is not an invention
of the popes, but an essential element of ecclesial unity that goes back
to the Lord and was developed faithfully in the nascent Church.
But the New Testament shows us more than the formal aspect of a structure;
it also reveals to us the inward nature of this structure. It does not
merely furnish proof texts, it is a permanent criterion and task. It depicts
the tension between skandalon and rock; in the very disproportion
between man's capacity and God's sovereign disposition, it reveals God
to be the one who truly acts and is present.
If in the course of history the attribution of such
authority to men could repeatedly engender the not entirely unfounded
suspicion of human arrogation of power, not only the promise of the New
Testament but also the trajectory of that history itself prove the opposite.
The men in question are so glaringly, so blatantly unequal to this function
that the very empowerment of man to be the rock makes evident how little
it is they who sustain the Church but God alone who does so, who does
so more in spite of men than through them.
The mystery of the Cross is perhaps nowhere so palpably
present as in the primacy as a reality of Church history. That its center
is forgiveness is both its intrinsic condition and the sign of the distinctive
character of God's power. Every single biblical logion about the primacy
thus remains from generation to generation a signpost and a norm, to which
we must ceaselessly resubmit ourselves. When the Church adheres to these
words in faith, she is not being triumphalistic but humbly recognizing
in wonder and thanksgiving the victory of God over and through human weakness.
Whoever deprives these words of their force for fear of triumphalism or
of human usurpation of authority does not proclaim that God is greater
but diminishes him, since God demonstrates the power of his love, and
thus remains faithful to the law of the history of salvation, precisely
in the paradox of human impotence.
For with the same realism with which we declare today the sins of the
popes and their disproportion to the magnitude of their commission, we
must also acknowledge that Peter has repeatedly stood as the rock against
ideologies, against the dissolution of the word into the plausibilities
of a given time, against subjection to the powers of this world.
When we see this in the facts of history, we are not celebrating men but
praising the Lord, who does not abandon the Church and who desired to
manifest that he is the rock through Peter, the little stumbling stone:
"flesh and blood" do not save, but the Lord saves through those who are
of flesh and blood. To deny this truth is not a plus of faith, not a plus
of humility, but is to shrink from the humility that recognizes God as
he is. Therefore the Petrine promise and its historical embodiment in
Rome remain at the deepest level an ever-renewed motive for joy: the powers
of hell will not prevail against it . . .
Endnotes:
[1] Die Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition, 2d ed. (198 1),
147- 51; cf. Gnilka, 56.
[2] For an exhaustive account of this point, see V. Twomey, Apostolikos
Thronos (Münster, 1982).
[3] It is my hope that in the not-too-distant future I will have the opportunity
to develop and substantiate in greater detail the view of the succession
that I attempt to indicate in an extremely condensed form in what follows.
I owe important suggestions to several works by 0. Karrer, especially:
Um die Einheit der Christen. Die Petrusfrage (Frankfurt
am Mainz, 1953); "Apostolische Nachfolge und Primat", in: Feiner, Trütsch
and Böckle, Fragen in der Theologie heute (Freiburg im.Breisgau,
1957), 175-206; "Das Petrusamt in der Frühkirche", in Festgabe
J. Lortz (Baden-Baden, 1958), 507-25; "Die biblische und altkirchliche
Grundlage des Papsttums", in: Lebendiges Zeugnis (1958), 3-24.
Also of importance are some of the papers in the festschrift for 0. Karrer:
Begegnung der Christen, ed. by Roesle-Cullmann (Frankfurt am Mainz,
1959); in particular, K. Hofstetter, "Das Petrusamt in der Kirche des
I. und 2. Jahrhunderts", 361-72.
[4] Cf. Hofstetter.
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