Fall 1969

Page 1


The Most Reverend Cletus F. O'Donnell, J.C.D. The Most Reverend Raymond P. Hillinger, D.D. The Most Reverend Aloysius J. Wycislo, D.D.

Trustees Rt. Rev. Msgr. John D. Fitzgerald Rt. Rev. Msgr. J Gerald Kealy Rt. Rev. Msgr. Arthur F. Terlecke Rev. Stanley C. Stoga Founders

Rt. Rev. Msgr. Thomas J. Burke Rt. Rev. Msgr. D. F. Cunningham Rt. Rev. Msgr. Francis J. Dolan Rt. Rev. Msgr. John B. Ferring Rt. Rev. Msgr. James D. Gleeson Rt. Rev. Msgr. Patrick J. Gleeson Rt. Rev. Msgr. James C. Hardiman Rt. Rev. Msgr. Michael J. Kilbride Rt. Rev. Msgr. Francis I. Lavin Rt. Rev. 1\fsgr. John A. McMahon Rev. Raymond J. Ackerman Rev. Anthony Chisek Rev. Francis M. Coyle Rev. William R. Doran Rev. Arthur E. Douaire Rev. Francis D. Hayes Rev. Edward M. Hosty Rev. Claude E. Kiarkowski

Rt. Rev. 1\fsgr. Eugene V. Mulcahey Rt. Rev. 1\fsgr. James V. Murphy Rt. Rev. 1\fsgr. Gerard C. Picard Rt. Rev. Msgr. Stanley J. Piwowar Rt. Rev. Msgr. Edward J. Smaza Rt. Rev. 1\fsgr. James A. Walsh Rt. Rev. Msgr. Richard F. Wolfe Rt. Rev. 1\fsgr. Raymond J. Zock Rev. Francis R. Krakowski Rev. Edward T. Kush Rev. Joseph J. Mackowiak Rev. Francis C. 1\furphy Rev. Harry C. Rynard Rev. Stanley L. Ryzner Rev. Joseph I. Schmeier Rev. Harold H. Sieger Rev. Andrew T. Valcicak

Charter M ember ACTA

Rev. Walter F. Somerville 335




Editor George J. Dyer

Associate Editors John F. Dedek

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John P. McFarland, S.J. Charles R. Meyer Norbert E. Randolph Robert A. Reicher Richard F. Schroeder William A. Schumacher Edward J. Stokes, S.J. Thomas F. Sullivan Gerald P. Weber Raymond O. Wicklander

CHICAGO STUDIES is edited by the faculty of St. Mary of the Lake Semniary and the priests of the Archdiocese of Chicago for the continuing education of the clergy. The editors welcome articles and letters likely to be of interest to our readers. Ail communications regarding articles and editorial policy should be addressed to the editors. Subscriptions should. be sent to CHICAGO STUDIES, Box 665, Mundelein, Illinois 60060. Subscription rates: $5.00 a year, $9.00 for two years, $16.00 for four years; to students, $4.00 a year. Foreign subscribers: add 50c per year. CHICAGO STUDIES is published three times a year with ecclesiastical permission and copyright, 1969, by Civitas Dei Foundation, Box 665, Mundelein, Illinois 60060. Third Class postage paid at St. Meinrad, Ind. Views expressed in the articles are those of the respective authors and not necessarily those of the editors or editorial board. Indexed in The Catholic Periodical Index and New Testament Ab-

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FALL, 1969

Articles TOMORROW'S CHRISTIAN, A Review Article


Robert A. Reicher


Carl Lezak


Edward Marciniak



Ernest Lussier, S.S.S.



Joseph O'Brien



Jared Wicks, S.J.



Donald P. Gmy



Robert L. Faricy, S.J.



Gerard M. Fourez, S.J.










Robert A. Reicher

Tomorrow's Chdslian A Review Article

ln basic agreement tvith M m¡ciniak, the au thor tries to push the discussion along even further.

Rarely does a reviewer enjoy this unique experience. Tonwrrow's Christian emerged in sorne inexplicable fashion from Mr. Marciniak's bulging brown briefcase, from scribbled and pocketed notes, as weil as a lifetime of social action experience. Now that the book has finally been published, I can recall ali the ignored suggestions, such as a different title, rejected paragt¡aphs and stillborn ideas. It would be easy to write a ponderous review recalling what might have been said. But Tomorrow's Christian is carefully written and basically sound discussion of the work of twenty-first century Christians. My comments, therefore, are not only designed 227.



to praise the book, but to push the discussion further along, raise points requiring clarification, and above ali to arouse a lengthy debate over the issues presented. Obviously, I find myself in basic agreement with the thesis of Tomorrow's Christian. Shortly before publication, Ed Marciniak facetiously proposed an explanatory title: An Introduction to a Pmlogomenon of the Theo/ogy of the Chu1·ch. In essence, the vividly written Tomoh·ow's Christiain analyzes the development of social thought sin ce John XXIII. Since the publication of Christianity and Social Prog1·ess and Peace on Earth, Paul VI's Prog1·ess of Peoples, and Vatican II's Church and the Modern World, many clerics appear still to be operating out of a pre-Vatican II outlook. 'Mr. Marciniak states: "On the one hand, religious isolationists would confine clergymen to the sacristy. In the name of separation of church and state they would strip the religions conscience of any social content. On the other hand, institutional voices within the church overrate their contribution to the !ife and death struggles in human society. The compulsion to speak out, often on the basis of a hastily scribbled statement, scantily discussed with others and aimed at 'making the church look good,' wins few friends and influences fewer people. At issue, then, is the formation of the social conscience of believing Christians and the wisest way to go about it. For is not this what the Christian ministry is ali about? To move among the people of God, to help open eyes and ears so that they respond personally to Christ. To overcome inertia within the community of faith, to give Christians spine and spunk" (pp. 77-78). Whatever else can be found in Tomorrow's Christian, to me the above selection indicates what it is ali about. From the viewpoint of the social historian, John XXIII responded to the historical setting of the pre-Vatican II era. He sensed both the despair and hope in the postwar world; he felt the demand for a changed Iitm·gy; he saw the culmination of severa! decades of adult Catholic education; he appreciated the desire of men to have a voice in the affairs which influence them; he sympathized with the agony of finding God after the catastrophe of death. In many ways, both or-



dained Christians Ieft their earldoms and baronies and raced and the world and initiated change. Perhaps Vatican II responded to the need for change rather than created it. Ordaine<! Christians Ieft their earldoms and baronies and racee! into the world, speaking about poverty, war and peace, technology and other departments of human experience. The secular Christian Iooked away from his worldly work and raced into the institutional structures of the church, demanding that they be made more nourishing and intelligible in the modern world. Admittedly, the cleric who fails to stimulate the social conscience is irrelevant; the church ¡structures which do not fee! the healing salve of secular Christians will be abrasive. But in the mad footrace, bath ordained and secular Christians have possibly passed one another by. As the clerical caste system has happily broken dawn, what roles are left for ordained and secular Christians to play in modern society? APPARENT CONTRADICTION

At first, Mr. Marciniak's remarks appear contradictory. In vigorously defending the supremacy of the secular Christian in the world, he does not look too kindly at the priest head of a community organization, the priest who attacks political and social institutions without direèting similar attention to ecclesiastical institutions, and especially the clergyman who views himself as the church made relevant. The cleric does frequently think of himself as the embodiment of the Christian people, the church involved and the church in action. At the same time, the author insists that the cleric must be a "boatrocker" and "wave-maker," someone who can never be satisfied with the status quo, someone who conscientiously stirs up the social conscience. 1 would have to voice agreement with the Marciniak position. Agreement can be made on severa! levels. First of ali, there is the historical record of clerics. Their track record Jacks luster. The great silence on civil rights, the quiet shrug of the shoulders during the debate on the international juridical community, and the limited vision of the past are weil known. What would the church in the United States and the country be like if the LaFarge, Cantwell, Egan, Ryan, McGowan type



clerics had been heat¡d? These men were openly ridiculed and ignored by the larger body of ordained Christians. Clerics also back the sociological imagination required to perceive properly the areas of social concern. When they speak of residential integration, they are unaware of the pressures of population growth and movement and the difficulties of attracting white or black buyers into racially changing neighborhoods. The priest who considera himself the "leader" in social action often acts with the same kind of dictatorial aplomb of an Irish pastor of the 1930's. More seriously, however, is the theological question which is raised. The cleric admittedly has rights and duties of citizenship, but his responsibility as a cleric implies something different from citizenship. His responsibility precisely is the stimulation of the Christian conscience. Now he can make judgment as to how this should be done. Disagreements about methods can evolve, but the basic point that Mr. Marciniak is making is crucially important. The style of solution, the manner of resolving social issues, the posture of evincing change is not the streamlined short eut of the cleric. Where a plurality of social reforms are available, there is not one which then becomes identified as the ecclesiastical or churchly solution to social problems. Clerics like to think of themselves as knights in shining armor, creating community where none exists, forging the tools necessary to elevate the poor. Too often, however, this vision can retard the intelligent growth of the secular Christian and continue the first class citizenship of the ordained Christian. At first blush, many writers would disagree with the opinion of the author of Tomorrow's Christian. Yet, if documents mean anything in this troubled tirne, it is the thrust of Vatican II and the J ohannine contribution to social thought. Th ose who care little about such documentation are debating about the origin of the pastoral role as related to the cultic role. Sorne suggest that the distinction between ordained and secular Christian vocations should be eroded, and that the era of the parttime cleric, the working priest, is about to retum. Whatever the theological position rnight be, the very complexity and secularization of modern society reinforces the preeminence of the secular Christian in the world. The very definition of church does not make the ecclesiastical body the



same as any other element in the power structure. A priest is to be judged not on how weil he plans a city, but how he inspires city planners, not on how excellently he organizes a community, but how a principled organization is formed, not on how weil he speaks, but perhaps on how weil he listens. The position of Mr. Marciniak, which clearly states that in civil matters, even bishops do not speak for the church, is not ali that subtle. However, other reviewers seem to review the book for what they think was written rather than what is really seen. When Mr. John McDermott reviewed the book, he implied that a kind of nostalgie, old-church, regular Catholic action atmosphere permeated Tomo1-row's Christian. The momentum of the book is just the opposite. In reality, the old vision of the authoritarian priest moving about society is reinforced by Mr. McDermott through his statements about the "church" meaning the priests or bishops exercising leadership, when they are meant to serve. .


There are two problems, however, in Mr. Marciniak's book which should be elaborated upon. There is a kind of elitism implied when the urban expert, labor expert, legal expert holds positions of influence. Somehow or other, 1 wish it would have been stated more clearly that the skilled secular Christian must 1isten to the skilled and unskilled citizen. Th en 1 wonder what should be said about the areas of the city or the country, in which institutions are unresponsive to. the needs of people. And frequently they are. What means should be taken to crea te responsiveness and what roles should clerics assume? The response is easy in those issues which are clearly right or wrong, such as the destruction of voting rights on the basis of skin color. But when the problems are greyed and darkened, is the cleric ca lied to do more than stand as John the Baptist in the wilderness painting out the way of the Lord? 1 think there is a response to this problem. The second problem is more serious. Since the volume was published, a kind of dissatisfaction has swept through sorne segments of American society. We have a radicalism developing which may or may not enjoy greater support in the future.



I do not believe, as one priest informed me, that it is the function of the church (meaning priests) to radicalize the young. YetI think the relationship of the ordained Christian to radical movements requires greater attention, no matter what the political preferences of the cleric might be. Is there an¡ underlying assumption in Tomorrow's Christian that reform is probable and possible? What happens if the secular Christian judges it is neither? I remember once in a conversation that John Courtney Murray suggested that the church (meaning the institutional church) is essentially a conservative force in society, yet he suggested that sorne members of the church stand at its cutting edge, breaking new ground and moving on. I think that those of us who are more or less professionally occupied with social action matters must discuss the new and uncertain thrust of reform and revolution more carefully. The response here could also be evident. The cleric excites the conscience, but he must also insist that its ethical imperatives be ethically achieved. Again, throughout the book, Mr. Marciniak is attempting to establish sorne principles by which Christians, both secular and ordained, achieve sorne' leve! of order and community in society. Both have unique roles, and 1 do not really believe that the differentiation in responsibility can be lightly set as ide. There is a hard saying and who can hear it? For ordained Christians to exercise a humility in their witness and for secular Christians to walk away from social irresponsibility is far from easy. Both secular and ordained Christians have to be freed from pre-Vatican II thinking in order that both might affect the world in which both live. But after ali is said and done, there is one final disturbing note. Is the whole debate irrelevant? Sorne young people, upon reading Tornorrow's Christian, said it did not deal with their hang-ups. The grave issues of peace and war, poverty, race, the questing of the human spirit are not bound up in intramural discussions. The movement of world civilization builds up each day and it will not be slowed while Catholics solve their identity crisis. Yet without a resolution of the identity crisis, the people of Cod cannot do their best work in the world, and therefore the debate is crucially important. Somewhere in Tomorrow's Cht¡istian Mr. Marciniak uses



the familiar parable of the church as a submarine. The submarine periodically surfaces, looks around, and submerges once again. The post Vatican II cleric sometimes believes, now that he is peering at the world and influencing it, that the church is running full speed ahead on the surface. In reality, for good or bad, better or worse, the church has been running on the surface since its founding. The secular Christian, at work in the world, sometimes scorned, sometimes a second-class citizen, but always present has been doing the Christian's work in the world. Their recent discovery will soon !ose its novelty, and then both secular and ordained Christians can more easily become tomorrow's Christian.

Carl Lezak

Tomorrow's Christian A Review

ls M1-. Marciniak's cure for clericalism as dangerous as the disease itself?

According to Isaac Newton every physical action occasions and stimulates an equal and opposite reaction. The German philosopher Hegel proposed the dialectical them¡y which says that Iife is an endless series of theses, antitheses, and syntheses. Modern psychology has made popular the terms "reaction" and "over-reaction" to describe similar phenomenon in the rea lm of interpersonal relations. If the rea der of Tomorrow' s ¡ Christian by Ed Marciniak approaches the book with such reactionary categories clearly in mind he may be able to appreciate the many positive contributions that Marciniak does make to the continuing Christian dilemma about lay and clerical roles. Seen in Hegelian terms as an antitheses which helps to modify and clarify sorne of the yesterday's concepts of clerical domination, Marciniak's position is understandable and useful; seen as a workable synthesis to be applied as such to today's Christian (let alone tomorrow's, as the title suggests), Marciniak's cure, I am afraid, might be as dangerous and extreme as the illness of clericalism he is trying to remedy. 235



Proposed and developed at length in the first chapter, "The Church in Caricature" and then frequently repeated throughout the book is the principal thesis of M.'s thought: Catholic priests who publicly take social, moral, andjor political positions usual1y are not speaking or acting for the Church in any truly representational sense; the Church, M. points out, in most of these instances is not real1y speaking at ail; it is the voice or action of a single cieric who pretends (andjor is thought) to represent the Church. Furthermore, M. maintains, such clerical misrepresentations serve little effective purpose other than to further frustrate and hinder the Christian development and activity of the layman who should be the "native" in the world of Christian action. Marciniak's new hero of tomorrow's Church is to be the secular Christian and he, of necessity, is to be a layman, not a priest. If this is to be the theology for the Christianity of tomorrow, we can aH stop struggling with Rahner, Küng, and Co. and just dust off our old Catholic Action manuals and re-read Pius XII. ·Earl y in the book M. states that "nobody in his right mi nd will any longer admit allegiance to this caricature" (of individual clerics "being" the Church). Evidently, however, just to be on the safe side the remainder of the book is generously sprinkled with numerous examples of clerics masquerading as truly representative ecclesial spokesmen. His indisputable evidence ranges from the over-zealous mm·ching parish-priest to the publicly moralizing prelate. For sorne reason M. stops short · of applying or even relating his position of non-representative and pseudo-ecclesial action to the Church's foremost cleric (and foremost offender?), the Pope. In fact, M. sees the Pope's 1966 United Nations peacé appeal as "a different matter" and "made on behalf of the Church." It is a little puzzling how the Church has lacked representational and ecclesial leadership on the parochial and diocesan level, but not on the inter·national or world-wide leveL Of course, it is on the local leve] of Church activity that M. is most experienced and qualified, with his extensive experience in the Chicago City administration in recent years, in addition to his active and formai participation in many of the more prominent Catholic Action movements prior to that. Undoubtedly, Ed Marciniak, in both persona! and official activities, has more than his share of ex-



perience with the frustrated and frustrating priests he so accurately describes. It was precisely the knowledge of Marciniaks' vast experience in the Church and government of the city of Chicago that occasioned my greatest persona! disappointment in reading the book: the Jack of single example or reference to. the two men who are possibly the single most powerful lay and clerical leaders respectively in the Church in America today, Mayor Richard Daley and Cardinal John Cody. To struggle with the subject of relationship of lay and clerical roles, to talk about the u'se and abuse of power within the Church, particularly in Chicago, and ignore these two men is more than unfortunate. Given the faults and omissions described above, ali due credit should be given to Marciniak for cogently reminding us of a significant problem that-despite the progress of Vatican II-still haunts the Church of today: clericalism at its worst. There are still too many priests and prelates pretending to represent what they really do not, interfering in areas in which they Jack competence, and ~vorst of ali, stifling the involvement and action of their fellow Christians, the laity. THE PROPOSED REMEDY

Agreed that the clericalism which M. describes is still a problem for today's church, we move to the consideration of his proposed remedy. It is precisely at this point that the reader is cautioned to recall the categories and theories of Newton, Hegel, et al. As a cure for the ills of clericalism and fictional representationalism M. suggests that the implementation of Christian principles in the secular world should be limited to the only true secular Christian, the layman. The clergy must resist the temptation to "forsake the grandstand for the playing field itself." The role of the clergy, although not well-defined by M., seems to be confined to educating and inspiring the layman to action. "In the marketplace," he says, "the native clergy are, of course, the secular Christian." Such thinking is more than vaguely reminiscent of the role of the Catholic Action chaplain of the 1940's who was supposed to provide the laity with scriptural inspiration and formation and then remain in the background in silent support while dis-



cussion and application were carried on by the lay apostles. The saving role of the exclusively lay secular Christian is really as ironie as it is simplistic. It is simplistic to think that the reform of centuries-old structures will be accomplished by¡ either changing the layman's title (a rose by any other name, etc.) or merely transfering the delicate responsibility of representational leadership from one ill-defined province of the institution to another. I am afraid that we might soon find that the paternalism and arrogance that M. attributes to the clergy cornes not from the application of the sacred oils but from the opportunity to exercise power and leadership without accountability. A lay leader can and often does stifle dialogue, participation and communal¡ decision-making among his peers. What the Church needs is not new titles, but a new means of mutually responsible communication with appropriate sanctions that will make true representational leadership and ec~lesial action possible. Such channels and checks will have to apply with proportionate force to everyone from the Pope to the "secular Christian" who is delegated to represent the parish on the most insignificant of public committees. What makes M.'s solution so ironie is that the suggested canonizing of the layman as the only secular Christian will just serve to preserve the "sacredness" of the clergy and maintain in a more subtle form the very clericalism that is supposedly under attack. As long as the priest has a privileged, spiritual, sacred role-even though in the background-he will continue to be in a superior and controlling relationship to M.'s secular Christian. The layman or secular Christian would stiJl be dependent on his spiritual leader for direction prior to action andjor review afterwards. We would stiJl be faced with the unreal situation of clergy trying to apply general, abstract principles apart from the suffering, conflict, and judgment of the public sector. More often than not it has been the general Jack of familiarity and involvement that has led to the clergy tripping over their cassocks when they finally did venture into political and social activities. Approaching this book as one who thinks of himself as a secular Christian (must we not ali be?) who also happens to be ordained, but not as a theologian. I hesitate to fault M. for the Jack of a profound theological foundation. N either



do I pretend to solve the whole question of the relationship of sacred and secular in a paragraph; the problem is that M. seems to be oblivious of the debate. Severa! times he states explicitly that what is needed is a new theology of Church. Agreed. But his thinking i~ based upon suppositions that refuse to take seriously the wedding of the sacred and secular in the Incarnation. If M. theories were to be applied in retrospect, we would be faced with either of two cqually difficult choices. One is that Christ could in no way be called a priest. It should be increasingly obvions to readers of scripture that Christ was in no way a juridical or ecclesiastical functionary of the religions institution of )lis day. But I doubt if M. would want to destroy the very traditional application of priest to Christ in the sense that he was the unifier, the personification, of divine and human, sacred and profane. But admitting that Christ was priest, we would accorcling to M.'s tenninology, be forced to choose the second alternative and say that Christ as the first Christian priest exceeded his priestly "role" by not staying in the background and thus pt¡e-empted the role of the Apostles ( prior, that is, to the ir own ordination and active retirement). As we modern Christians continue to argue about "roles" and "states of !ife" we might occasionally dwell on the fact that the early Christian community reserved the word priest for Christ himself or the community as a whole. Since theological theorizing has seldom settled a theological question, I would seriously suggest this practical solution to M. and others still disturbed about rigidly and pennanently defined roles in the Church: the quickest way to destroy the myth of clerics speaking for anyone but themselves is to foster more of them doing just that, i.e. publicly abusing their role as Church "spokesmen ;" enough of the People of God will sooner or later become sufficiently angered to effectively proclaim, "That guy doesn't speak for me." When that day of wrath arrives we, layman, priest, prelate, etc., can begin to take seriously the universal priesthood of Christ and collectively work out a response to "Who is the Church ?" In the meantime, a book such as Tomorrow's Christian can serve to remind us-applying the concept of equal and opposite reaction-just how extreme and harmful the clericalism of yesterday's Church continues to be.

Ed Marciniak

Tomorrou/s Christian A Review of Two Reviews

The experience of a distinguished "seeular Ch1¡istian" is refiected in his search for a theowgy of the Church.


Why was Tomor1¡ow's Christian written? Speaking personally, I saw many of my friends (laity and priests) agitated by change. Sorne were in serious trouble, splashing about wildly in uncertain seas. I saw many a priest struggling, by himself, for self-respect and identity. His problem, I knew, could be resolved-not alone, not with other priests, not with his bishop, not with the Pope but with al! of them and especially with those ordinary Christians on whose behalf he has been called to be a priest. To questions about his priesthood, his profession, his role, his unique service, a priest will find few helpful answers outside the community of Christians, which is the Church. In a spirit of collegiality and co-responsibility, I wanted the experience of the secular Christian (the layman so-called to be reflected in the present search for a living theology of 241



the Church. Our notion of the Church does have practical consequences. Could my book, in any way, help bridge the widening gulf: between the Church downtown and the Church in the diocesan hinterland? between that ecclesiastical center, often mistaken for the Church, and that rambunctious frontier where Church and world coexist and where the rank and file Christian is daily challenged to respond to God's word? between public preachment, for example on interracial justice, and private practice? between frustrated clergy and indignant laity? and finally between young men considering a future as priests and those priests who consciously or unconsciously were planning for the obsolescence of the priesthood? Seeking to write a book free of pions prattle I could not sidestep controversial issues. I had to give names and places, to speak bluntly. To examples as up-to-date as today's newspaper, sorne readers add their own interpretation and draw a different conclusion-often with confusion. To my plainspoken language other readers react erratically. For this I offer no apology. In a time of crisis, we need to confront one another with love-and with honesty. To be open and direct with each other we have to throw overboard the bilge of devions languagĂŠ and circumlocution that obstructs the truth. "Love," St. Paul tells us, "rejoices with the truth." Father Reicher notes that my book exaggerates the role of the professional and expert and underplays the contribution of the citizen-amateur in resolving the human dilemmas that confront mayors, chiefs of police, prime ministers, university presidents, and secretary-generals of international organizations. His point is weil taken. The book did concentrate its fi re on a tenclency among Christian social movements to elevate the importance of the outsider-protestor and to devaluate that of the insider-expert. The book explained why relevance today is seldom achieved by those who poohpooh most politics and huzza only direct confrontation. Too many concerned citizens are hung up on problems but not on solutions. As a VISTA poster for recruiting volunteers capitalized, "if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem." Without politics, which I regard as the art of social change, violence becornes the only honorable alternative to a demand for justice which is resisted. Short run "victories" may be achieved with-




out the presence or help of the insider, but in the long run any religions strategy for Christian relevance is destined for frustration and defeat unless there is plenty of room for the insider-expert. Where the outsider may stress the wickedness in the finite, the insider better understands the fini te in the wickedness. The temptation of the former is heavenly righteousness, that of the latter, hellish nonchalance. Both are part of the problem anrl its solution. THE ROLE OF THE PRIEST

In elaborating a theology of the ch urch few questions are as pivotai as the relationship between priest and people. "Is the cleric," Father Reicher asks, "callerl to do more than stand as John the Baptist in the wildernéss, pointing out the way of the Lord?" This question also perturbs Father Lezak. My answer is unequivocal: consider the priestly example of that 17th Centm·y social reformer, St. Vincent de Paul. ln Tomor>'O>v's Ch>·iRtian I devoted severa! pages to praising a 20th Century troublemaker, an Indiana priest who involved himself personally-in the face of opposition and indifference-on behalf of exploited farm migrants from Mexico who were living in a makeshift camp nearby. About him, I wrote, "Nothing so far is intendèd to discourage any priest from becoming a troublemaker in the community to which he is committed as an uncommon man." My priestly models have always been men like those named by Fat11er Reicher. The issue is not simply whether a priest specializes in social action, labor, civil rights, or peace, but, more important, ·how does he help the men and women who are part of the problem and its solution? Undeniably, priest and secular Christian share a common Christian· vocation to serve the city of man. The question remains: How best does the ordained Christian, chosen for his special task from and by the Christian community, carry out that vocation? The question is not answered by noting that secular Christians· and clergymen as citizens have a common competency and responsibility. There is more to the work of building the good society than the task of a citizen. The truly great society needs judges, civil servants, political piuty leaders and members of parliament who are just, wise, and courageous.



To do their jobs weil, college presidents, elected officiais, tycoons, and bishops need the help of public opinion-citizen criticism (lay and cle"'ical). But this role is neither the chief nor the unique service of the priestly vocation. Nor is it the ordinary service. As a man chosen from among fellow Christians to aid them serve God and his world, the priest will certainly be judged as a Christian, but he will also be measured by how weil he uses the talents of his priestly vocation. A limited. comparison may help make this point. The congressman who is elected from among his fellow citizens remains a citizen who obeys . the law, uses the ballot box conscientiously, and pays his taxes. He does not stop being a citizen when elected a lawmaker. (Nor does a calling to be a priest supersede one's first calling to be a Christian.) But it is his stewardship as a legislator that will count foremost in the final analysis. He dare not neglect his special vocation-to make laws for the public good-by chasing other attractions that make him an inferior lawmaker. (Of course, a national emergency, disaster or war, for example, may require him to shuffie his priorities.) Similarly teachers, without stopping to be learners, serve students. Doctors help patients. Lawyers counsel clients. Merchants sell to customers. And priests are servants of the people of God. No one is surprised when a mother finds pride in her grown children who are happy, God-loving, kind, and useful or when a teacher is serenely satisfied at seeing her students take high honors or overcome discouragement to become educated men, or when a baseball coach .feels that he does better on the sideline than playing bali in the field. A priest finds dignity in seeing the congregation of God, which he serves, nourishing adult, generons, committed Christians. The priest (minister or rabbi) is the one person in human history capable of answering Socrates' question about whether virtue can be taught and caught. He dares answer affirmatively and positively because he teaches through and within a community of Christians. His hope is a Christian community peopled by courageous boat rockers and wave makers. Without the company of secular Christians, the priest will not comprehend what the priesthood truly means.




How then are we to fashion a vital relationship between priest and people, without converting priests into second-rate laymen and without demanding that laymen become second-rate clergymen? I suspect that here lies the core of Father Lezak's misunderstanding of my position and the source of his reluctance to outline out what his own position might be. I would encourage him to spell out his view, so that I and others can discuss it. His misunderstanding grows out of his own Hegelian dialectic. Operating on the assumption that the chief thrust of Tomorrow's Christian is an attack on "clericalism", he then reacts to his own thesis. I am allergie to every variety of "clericalism." But I avoided using this concept because it was an awkward and antiquated way of defining the contemporary tension between priest and people. The main concern of Tomorrow's Christian is far better summed up in the excerpt quoted by Father Reich er. I uvge readers to refract what Father Lezak describes as my position in the light of that excerpt, or better still, to read the book itself. At times, Father Lezak seems to have read me loosely. For example, no matter what he says, I did not exempt the Pope from that pseudorepresentational role--from church to world-played by sorne Church leaders and "spokesmen" and attributed to them so often by others for self-serving purposes. The United Nations appeal by Pope Paul VI in 1966 was in fact used to include the Pope, not to exclude him. What is the new situation? In the book I tried to describe it as follows: "There must be unqualified respect for the autonomy of the secular Christian's responsibility for the secular city. Lip service to this principle must be ended once and for ali by opposing the 'divine right' of chui¡chmen to have the final word. The secular Christian's final responsibility before God for the world of occupations and professions was grudgingly acknowledged in the practical arder, but rarely respected in social philosophy and theology. To acknowledge the secular Christian's jurisdiction is not to deify the secular, but rather to put into his hands the concern of God for human society. 'The world,' Gerard Manley Hopkins reminds us, 'is charged with the grandeur of God,' and his stewards are the men and



wœnen he has placed in the world. Any Jack of faith by religious leaders in the competence of a secular Christian to exercise his stewardship undermines his sense of responsibility for the world" (pp. 20-21). "Without being fully conscious of the reasons, the laymen often resented the stance of Christian colonialism in which su ch a religious movement ( Catholic Action and the lay apostolate) involved him if he took it seriously. The superiority of Catholic Action as the prototype of lay activity has successfully been challenged. The secular Christian is not an errand boy in the world for the clergy" (pp. 24-25). A stumbling block not only for priests but even more so for secular Christians, this new understanding will prevail only if we can renew kinship between priest and people. In Visions and Tactics: Toward an Adult Church, Brother Gabriel Moran, F.S.C. suggests how radical is the alternative we face: "The great moral questions are never going to be answered in the classroom, the pulpit, or the confessional. They will be answered by educated laymen who can find answers in concrete situations and who are not afraid to trust their own judgment." A new relationship between priests and people is beginning to evolve--fundamentally affecting our notion of church. I urge the editors of Chicago Studies to invite further dialogue on this vital question. In Tomor1·ow's Christian I tentatively sketched out what I saw on the horizon. The major portion of three chapters is devoted to sketches of complementary roles of priest and people. Arnong those sketches will be found my view of the sacred and secular and my understanding of how God works in the world and through the church. Instead of speculating as to what my views on this subject might be, I hope Father Lezak will deal with what I had to say on this subject: "The secular service of finding jobs for the unemployed is no Jess a Christian act than the sacred service of Sunday. With familiarity the Christian maves between the profane and the religious. He recognizes that raising a family is not a religions act and that prayer is not a secular habit, but that bath for him can be Christian" (p. 146). If that view of the sacred and secular, or a




similar one outlined in the final pages of the last chapter, presents Father Lezak with problems, I mge him to plll·sue them with equal vigor. . STRATEGY FOR SOCIAL CHANGE

,Finally, both Fathers Reicher and Lezak conclude with a series of questions asking for a strategy for social change. This is too large a subject for brief comment, especially since the key ideas (social reform, radical, revolution, establishment, etc.) are charged with high emotional voltage. However, one comment is in order : While I endorse the objective of Father Lezak's next-tolast paragraph, his specifie prescription puts our en tire pt"Oblem into focus. He "would seriously suggest" that "the quickest way to destroy the myth of clericals speaking for anyone but themselves is to foster more of them doing just that, i.e., pul:!licly abusing their l"Dle as Church 'spokesmen ;' enough of the People of God will sooner or later become sufficiently angered to effectively proclaim 'That guy doesn't speak for me'." Assuming that Father Lezak is not putting us on, I have these questions: Does it make no difference what the issue is? Are we sim ply out to provoke a gut reaction? What if the spokesman is Father Francis X. Lawlor? What. will the reaction th en be? Was this strategy reached after a face-taface, heart-to-heart consultation with fellow Christians? Or were only fellow Hegelians consulted? What do we do if only a handful protest while the many are simply turned off? Would not most pew patrons rather switch than fight? Is polarization the normal means by which the priests catch the attention of people? Answers to these questions would help us aiL At stake is the future of the Christian community. To quote from Tomor•·ow's Ch>istian: "Most of the questions which come up in a vital encounter between priest and layman are not subject to a magician's legerdemain. Take ... the question of a white property owner in a racially changed parish: 'Wh en negroes started moving in, you advised my family to stay. Their children were pushed around by whites. My family tried hard to be neighborly. But now we are the last white



family on the block, and my boys are getting roughed up. What do I do?' "Unfortunately, glib answers can easily be found and passed around. These exemplify priestly disservice. For it is in the dialogue between laymen and their priest that these questions ¡ open up, that his opportunity for authentic service lies. "Together they can then explore the mystery of human freedom. Together, with no axes to grind, in open honesty, and without a hidden agenda they seek to help one another read the signs of our times via the eyes of faith. Togèther in small communities of dialogue and encounter they deepen their concern for others, through such love keeping in touch with God, who is love. The agenda cornes from the serious concerns defined by the secular Christian. No priest, minister, or rabbi can carry out his priestly vocation without nourishing adult fellowship. Y et, a great many try and so forsake their ministry. To enroll the church in the service of humankind each of the 400,000 ministers, rabbis, and priests in the United States had better get on with this priestly job" (pp. 83-84).

Ernest Lussier, S.S.S .



Sorne Reflexions on the Narratives of the Institution of the Eucharist

Today it is the histo1·ical value of the gospel narratives of the Eucharist and not their literary authenticity which is being questioned.

The last decade has been most fruitful in the renewal of Eucharistie theology especially from the biblical and pastoral viewpoints. It might be useful to cull here what may be considered as the acquir~d results of this recent work, specifying parti cu Jar points, sorne more important than others. There is first the agelong question of the relation of the Last Supper to the Jewish Passover. What is certain is that the Eucharist was instituted by Christ at Passover time, in a Paschal atmosphere, and that in its meaning the sacrament is closely related to the J ewish feast. As St. Paul puts it: "Christ, our passover, has been sacrificed" (1 Cor. 5 :7). The synoptic tradition (Mt. 26:17, Mk. 14:12, Lk. 22:7-8, 15) more interested in theology than in chronological detail has perhaps overemphasized this Paschal atmosphere by presenting the Last · Supper as an actual Passover meal. This first impression would 249



be correc!Rd by St. John who makes it cleru· that the Last Suppe>·, notwithstanding its Paschal symbolism was not adually a Passover meal ( (Jn. 18 :28, 19:14, 31, 42). lt remains possible, of course, that it is St. John who is theologically inclined in this matter and that he has timed Christ's crucifixion artistically to coïncide with the slaughter of the paschal lambs in the temple at Jerusalem. In any case this situation clearly indicates the precarious character of the efforts of many commentators to identify the details of the Eucharistie institution with specifie details (first eup, last eup) of the Passover meal. The same must be said for the.new chronology of Holy Week suggested by Miss Annie Jaubert. Following the ancient liturgical calendar known from Qumran, Jesus would have celebra!Rd the Passover and instituted the Eucharist on Tuesday evening, though it is othenvise clear that the crucifixion occmTed on a Friday (Mk. 13:42, Lk. 23 :54). This theory has the advantage of leaving more time for the judicial processes which preceded Christ's death, events which otherwise ali take place in half a day. On the other hand the three days of the new chronology seem rather empty. Another weakness lies probably in the fact that the solution of this problem should rather be sought in the litera>-y development of the synoptic" narratives, due ultimately to a simplification which originated in the primitive aPQstolic preaching. The literary types of the gospel narratives and the manner of their compositions are of paramount interest and it is there that the solution of apparent conflicts between the different writers are to be sought. The gospels are above ali catechetical pieces guided by what may be called organic, logical, and doctrinal preoccupations which are quite as important as any historical or especially chronological consideration. Jeremias' book The Euchm·istic Words of Jesus must face sorne of the preceding criticism. The first part of the book (p. 15-88). in fact, concludes that the Last Supper was actually a Passover meal. Moreover, part four (p. 138-203) is in search of the ipsissima verba, the very words used by our Lord in the institution of the Eucharist. This appears as a rather illusive quest since it is generally admitted that the institution texts are liturgical texts, the crystalization in liturgical formula of our Lord's Eucharistie teaching. The formulas arrived at by



Jeremias are at best the specification of the more authentic liturgical tradition. Jn. 6:51, "the bread that I shall give is my flesh fm· the !ife of the world," is possibly as close, if not closer, than any of the other formulas of Eucharistie institution. The fact that the institution natTatives are liturgical texts woulrl indicate that the text was assured a relatively fixed form at a very early date. And, in any case, it was su rely not until after the Easter experience that the full significance of what h·anspired at the Last Supper dawned upon the disciples. THE PREPARATIONS FOR THE SUPPER

In the narrative of the' preparation for the supper (Mt. 26:17-19, Mk. 14:12-16, Lk. 22 :7-13) there is probably no teaching of foreknowledge on the part of Jesus. Matthew omits ali reference to the man carrying the pitcher and gives a narrative that supposes that arrangements with someone had previously been made for the use of his house. Such reserve is not characteristic of Matthew and suggests that he saw nothing extraot·dinary in the incident. The structut·e and wording of the episode in Mark and Luke are strikingly and suspiciously parallel to that of the entry into Jerusalem (Mt. 21 :2-3 and parallel passages) and reveal a stereotyped form of composition. This is probably the evangelists' way of indicating the central importance of the occasion for Jesus and for his Church, which interest is also underlined by the mention of the dining room, a large upper room furnished with couches and ali prepared for a banquet (Mk. 14: :14-15). Notice that the phrase the L01·d's Suppe1· is Pauline (1 Cor. 11 :20) where deipnon refers to the evening meal, the main meal taken towards evening. In current English, and only in English, the phrase is a traditional misnomer. Formerly supper indicated the last of the three meals of the day: breakfast, dinner, and supper. Now it stands for the last substantial meal of the day when dinner is taken in the middle of the day, or it refers to a last meal following an early evening dinner, or a meal after a social gathering in the evening. THE EUCHARIST: THANKSGIVING AND FEST AL BANQUET

More important is the true meaning of the word Eucharist



which is often explained without specification, as meaning thanksgiving. There is no ancient Hebrew word for simple thanksgiving of our modern sense. The biblical meaning of the Greek word eucharistein is really not thanksgiving but praise, that is, to pronounce the blessing (eulogia in Greek, berakah in Hebrew), to utter the praise of God. The idea of memorial (anamnesis in Greek, zikkaron in Hebrew) is closely related. This is the reason why the words ( eucharistein and eulogein, that is, to thank and to bless) are used indiscriminately in the institution narratives and in the stories of the multiplication of the loaves. Jesus gave thanks to God as every pious Jew did, pronouncing the grace over bread and wine. Such a benediction evidently would obtain a more sublime meaning on the lips of our Lord and include an appeal to the divine omnipotence. This idea of blessing (berakah), an essentially Eucharistie theme, brings up again the problem of the relation of the Euchat·ist with its J ewish background. The Paschal character of Jesus' last meal cannot be established with historical certainty either as a ritual Paschal meal or as an anticipated and then modified Paschal meal. The New Testament S(>Urces only permit with certainty the conclusion that Jesus' last meal was a festal banquet. According to ancient custom, the actual festive dinner was followed by a drinking session, which as symposion (mishtita in Hebrew) gave the whole banquet its name and later was the occasion for certain problems, for example at Corinth (1 Cor. 11 :17-22). At Jewish banquets the drinking session was opened with a prayer of thanksgiving and there can hardly be any doubt thàt as regards form history and history of tradition, the primitive Christian Eucharistie prayer has its roots in this Jewish thanksgiving prayer. The kiddush (a preliminary rite consisting essentially in the blessing of bread) the01·y must now be considered as insufficient. The double Eucharistie action was the bread and the eup, in origin was Jewish in character and reftected the ritual beginning and end of a festive. meal. These two meal rites were ultimately juxtaposed. Jesus' actual actions were coordinated and continued to be imitated. Furthermore, the indications point to a festive meal since at ]east the action with



the eup was not a feature of everyday meals. Now tradition tells us, and quite credibly, that it was the circumstances of Jesus' last supper which made it a solemn farewell meal, the fact that it was the institution of the Euchadist. THE EUCHARISTIC SYMBOLISM

The question of the symbolism of the Eucharist is crucial for a correct understanding of the mystery. The basic, essential Eucharistie symbolism is food, nourishment. The bread that Jesus used in his daily !ife had little to do with the wheaten wafer that we have come to use in the west, and that nearly demands an act of faith to verify that it is really bread. Bread in Jesus' day had the form of a large pancake or a thin omelet which could be bent and folded and used in place of spoons or forks. It was made of wheat, barley, oats, maize, or spelt. Barley bread was the usual bread of the poor. People frequently ate their bread unleavened and not only for Passover. The leaven when used (Mt. 13 :33) was a piece of dough left over from a preceding batch. Liturgically and historically the Church discipline of unleavened hosts is not biblical. The primitive Church before the ninth century used indiscriminately both leavened and unleavened bread, although in the Latin Church the custom of unleavened bread generally prevailed. In the eleventh century as a reaction against the schismatic Greeks who insisted on fermented bread and unjustly accused the Latins because of their use of unleavened bread, the Church adopted the present legislation. In the nineteenth century Pope Pius IX solemnly sanctioned the use of unleavened bread appealing to "Apostolic traditior." The question, however, is purely disciplinary since the Church recognizes the validity of the Greek rite with lea vened bread. Theologians, especially of the canonical breed, should probably be more discreet in specifying the "matter" of the Eucharist which is now firmly established in clearly defined principles. To the question: is the use of bread and wine of dogmatic significance for the concrete celebration of the Eucharist, simply because Christ used bread and wine at the Last Supper? one should probably answer negatively since the sig-



nificance is prabably merely canonical and juridical. Incidentally, the traditional ceremonies which take place around dropped hosts or consecrated wine spilt on the altar cloth seem to be exaggerations. lt is no longer possible to drink the spilt wine which consequently has very little more to do with the sacrament.



The sacrilicial nature of the Eucharist cornes from the nature of the Eucharistie food, namely, the body given for us (Lk. 19 :19), t)l.e blood shed for the forgiveness of sins (Mt. 26 :28). Unfmtunately sorne theologians are still finding false symbolic meanings in sorne of the details of the institution narratives. Thus the present participles of the original Greek are used for the immediate, near future, and have no special meaning when repeated in the Eucharistie liturgy. They stress the sacrificial aspect of the Eucharist because of its essential relation to the Cl'Oss. The would-be sacrificial symbolism of such details as the fraction of the host and the double consecration are later mystical consii:lerations which have little, if anything, to do with the essential Eucharistie symbolism. The broken bread and the ftowing wine are only remotely, if at ali, signs evoking our Lord's passion. They are essentially and simply normal meal references. Our Lord used bread and wine because they belong to the universal language: hunger and thirst are universal experiences. Bread and wine are symbolic of food in its most nourishing form. Water (Is. 3 :1) not wine is the ordinary biblical beverage; wine is for banquets and special occasions. lt follows that the Eucharistie wine symbolizes the Messianic banquet. Its main symbolism, however, is in relation to the sacrificial character of the New Covenant. To break the bread was a necessary preparation for the distribution that followed; bread was broken, not eut. This ordinat-y gesture when perfmmed by the president at table, symbolized in Jewish centers the bond of fraternity which unites the guests at the same table. The "breaking of the bread" soon became a recognized phrase for the Eucharistie celebration but not with a precise, math erna tic identification (e.g. Acts 27 :35). The official and total explanation of the essential Eucharistie symbolism is



given in Jn. 6:51: "the bread that 1 shall give is my ftesh for the !ife of the world." The word bread focuses on the sacramental elements; ftesh specifies the result of the sacramental action; life clarifies the essential symbolism of the wine. The E ucharist is a sacramental sacrifice. The Mass is pu rely relative to Cal vary: it is the sacramental actualization of Christ's unique sacrifice by the real presence of the priest and victim of Calvm-y, the sacrificed Lamb (A p. 5 :6), our eternal high priest living forever to intercede for ali (Heb. 7:25). The Eucharistie symbolism is multiple: it in volves the ideas of nourishment, persona! souvenir or remembrance, and expiato1-y sacrifice. These different aspects of the Eucharist, as sacramental sacrjfice, as sacramental presence and sacrificial offering, correspond to the essehtial Christian mysteries of the Incarnation and the Redemption. The Eucllarist and the redemptive Incamation are complementary and mutually indispensable. THE EUCHARIST AND THE CHURCH

The Last Supper is rouch more than the institution of a sacrament: it is the foundation of the New Covenant and of a new people of God. The two questions of the Church and of the Eucharist are inseparably connected. The institution of the Eucharist is the formai institution of the Church. The re is, in fact, an essential bond between the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist and his real presence as Lord living in the Church, as foundation of the Church. The body of the Lord in the Christological sense is sour.ce of the body of the Lord in the ecclesiological sense. Christ's Eucharistie body ¡is the community of the two, the reciprocal real presence of Christ and his Church, meaningfully signified in the nourishing of¡ the body th at is the Church by Christ's risen body. God's plan of redemption is incarnational; it cent.~rs on Christ's assumed human body. This incarnation body becomes the immolated body, the risen body, and the Eucharistie body to build up the Church, Christ's mystical body. REAL PRESENCE "VI VERBORUM"? ..


Many theologians still claim to prove the real presence of



Christ in the Eucharist by the so called "vi verborum," by the strength of the assertations found in the narratives of the institution of the Eucharist. Unfortunately such an approach is unconvincing and impossible. Philologically the verb "to be" could mean either "is really" or "is figuratively." Ez. 5 :5 says of his hair thrown into the tire, "This is Jerusalem." Our Lord himself says, "1 am the door of the sheep" (Jn. 10 :7), or again, "1 am the true vine" (Jn. 15 :1); see also Mt. 13:37 and 1 Cor. 10:4. Thus the institution texts are philogically open and the death knell should be sounded for the argument "vi verborum." Catholic tradition has resolved the openness in terms of identity and real presence, but in this it was aided by other passages of the New Testament which clearly show the mind of Christ (Jn. Ch. 6) and the interpretation of the primitive Church ( (1 Cor. 11: 24 :32). That tradition was crystallized in the Tridentine decrees on the Eucharist. In the primitive Church the development of the interpretation of the celebration of a meal with Jesus was parallel to a progressive penetration into the mystery of Christ. Originally in the Acts, the emphasis was not on interpreting this meal but on celebrating it with joy and experiencing it. Y et even in the New Testament the emphasis was transferred, witness the institution narratives from the ecclesiastical community of grace in Christ, the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist under the species of bread and wine. Today authors prefer to explain transubstantiation in an existential, anthropological, and phenomenological context, rising above both the physical (philosophy of nature) and purely ontological interpretations. To put it brietly, and evidently defectively, by Christ's sacramental gift of himself, the bread receives a new value and becornes the vehicle of faith. THE EUCHARIST AS MEMORIAL

The Eucharist is to be a continuai calling to mind of him who redeemed man from the bondage of sin, as the Passover was an annual remembrance of the deliverance from Egypt. The Eucharist is not a vague souvenir but an actual, persona! one. It is an anamnesis (zikkaron), a rite for remembrance, which according to Jesus' thought effects what it recalls. The



Eucharist is as real and efficacious as what Jesus did at the Last Supper and on Cal vary because he will act in and through his Church. The gestures, the words will be repeated, but the reality will persist unchanged, namely, the sacrificial otfering of the body and blood of Christ made once for ali. And thus the Lord, in an abiding and substantial presence, will be with his own to the end of time. The sacrifice of the Mass would be nothing without the presence of him who is its priest and victim. St. Paul (1 Cor. 11 :26) has explained our Lord's command to "do this as a memorial of me." Paul is not giving a precept but explaining an established liturgy. "You proclaim the death of the Lord," evidently not in the sense of announcing a future event, since the death of our Lord is a thing of the past, but in the sense of celebrating, representing, in the sense of doing this in remembrance of him. The Eucharist is not a dramatic imitation of what was done at the last Supper; it is the same thing. The relation of the Eucharist to the Last Supper is not simply in the way in which, for example, a scene in a pageant is related to the historical event which it depicts. The Eucharistie celebration is an acted sermon, an acted proclamation of the death it commemorates and repeats in its essential elements, namely, the internai oblation and the persona! souvenir. The Eucharist is the sacrament of the unseen presence, fraught with the achievement of the past and the promise of the future. The Eucharistie proclamation of the Lord's death is not an obituary notice but the triumphant cry of Christ's victory over death. THE NEW COVENANT

The Eucharist is the New Covenant in Christ's blood ( 1 Cor. 11 :25, Lk. 22 :20). This is a patent reference to the words of Moses in Ex. 24 :8 when after he had read the book of the Covenant and the people had promised to observe it, he sprinkled them with sacrificial blood saying, "Behold the blood of the covenant which Y ahweh has made with y ou." Christ's sacrificial blood, not merely s prinkled but drunk, is the seal of the New Covenant. Blood was considered as the principle of !ife and played an important role in Old Testament worship. As



Moses dedicated the ûld Covenant with the blood of sacrifice, so Christ dedicates the New Covenant with his·own blood which is not merely a sign but really the efficient cause of the New Covenant. As at Sinaï, the blood of victims sealed the Covenant of Yahweh with his people (Ex. 24 :4-8), so on the cross the blood of Jesus, the perfect victim is about to seal the New Covenant (Lk. 22 :20) between God and man, the Covenant foretold by the prophets (Jer. 31 :31). Jesus takes on himself the task of uni versai redemption that Isaiah assigns to the servant of Yahweh (Is. 42:6, 49:6, 53:12). THE HISTORICAL VALUE

Today it is the historical value of the gospel narratives of the institution of the Eucharist and not their literary authenticity or literai meaning which is being questioned. Briefly, many cri ti es refuse to attribute to Jesus himself sacramental conceptions wh ich they declare vulgar and unworthy of our Savior. No doubt, the Last Supper was the starting point of the Eucharist, but this Last Supper was nothing else but a farewell banquet, a symbolic action meant to express the intimate union which should bind the disciples together. Jesus never ordered his followers to reiterate the rite after his death; yet the custom prevailed in the Christian communities. At first there was nothing but a love feast (agape) without any mystical relation to the Passion and without faith in the real presence. It was Paul, the sacramentalist, who finally linked this commemorative rite with the thesis that was so dear to him, the redemptive value of the death of Christ, but he was more or Jess unconsciously influenced by the Greek mysteries. It was thus that the Eucharist-sacrament was born; the joyful bt:eaking of the bread of the Acts of the Apostles gave way before the sad, funereal Pauline celebration. This would-be historical reconstruction supposes gratuitously that Jesus did not foresee the redemptive value of his death; now Pauline theology is not an innovation but the development and explanation of the most authentic teaching of Jesus (Mk. 10:45). Paul clearly appeals to tradition as the source of his Eucharistie doctrine (1 Cor. 11 :23). Moreover, it is most improbable that Paul who was so opposed to idolatrous worship could have really borrowed from the Hellenistic



mysteries. And it should be stressed that nowhere, in St. Paul's time, did anyone initiated into the pagan mysteries, even in the Baœhanalia (the drunken revel of Bacchus), believe that he was eating the flesh of his God or drinking divine blood. This idea is something essentially Christian. It is quite clear that the first Eucharists as presented in the Acts of the Apostles did emphasize the joy of the celebration. The impaÊt of the resurrection experience was such that at first the disciples' thought of the death of Jesus was pushed into the backgmund, and their psychological state was overwhelming joy at his spiritual presence. This joy with its eschatological outlook or even greater glories to come, continued for a while as a predominant feature in the Church's Eucharists. But to suppose that there was no thought or remembrance of the l\'!aster's death is an unwarranted a8sumption: and psychologically it is improbable. Paul did lay a renewed emphasis on the remembrance of the death of Christ, which was already present, but which at Corinth was in danger of being forgotten, along with brotherly generosity and simple good manners (1 Cor. l l :17-34).

Joseph O'Brien •

To Cluster or not to Cluster. Thal is the Question The cluster seems to offer the advantages of improved education to a degree that most seminaries could not meet on their own.

"Among the¡ changes which will occur in the next decade, it seems likely that sorne seminaries will enter cooperative cluster developments which will enable the participants to centralize common facilities such as class rooms, libraries, student housing, and administrative facilities" ("Theological Curriculum for the 70's" Theological Education, Summer 1968, 826). This prophecy by the Association of Theological Schools points to a continuing trend in modern seminary education, the trend toward "cluster." A little over a year ago the Association, made up of both Protestant and Catholic theological schools, set up severa! task forces to study, evaluate, and develop programs for the coming decade. One of the principal recommendations of the task force was that quality theological education will best be obtained in clusters of Roman Catholic and Protestant seminaries combining their resources through cooperative organizations. Even as we enter the '70's severa! 261



such clusters have appeared on the American scene and others are in process. Until very recent times most .seminaries have tended to remain aloof and independent of each other even seminâries of the same denomination. Now a new trend appears, the trend toward greater cooperation and interdependence. These cooperative efforts vary in locale and size; sorne are just a "gentlemen's agreement" to discuss conunon prob-

lems and promote a few joint ecumenical seminars, while others have entered into a comprehensive educational program. Inbetween there is a wide latitude of cooperation, depending on location and varying religious interests and commitments. This trend has grown so powerful that there is scarcely a major Roman Catholic or Protestant seminary that is not wrestling with the question "to cluster or not to cluster." What reasons are there for this sudden development, so important to the future of theological education? No doubt many factors are involved, varying with different situations, but I think the following are three major reasons. lMPROVED EDUCATIONAL RESOURCES

Today's seminary education has grown so complex and demanding of so many special talents and abilities that very few, if any, seminaries or theological schools can provide adequate faculty for this task. Moreover the rise of theological faculties on state and private universities has created a competitive market for theological educators so much so that many seminaries complain of a "brain drain." Higher salaries, resource facilities, involvement in the university world, have proved very attractive to many of the best theological educators so that seminaries must now compete with the universities for their talents. In addition many students, particularly in Protestant cil¡cles, but increasingly also among Catholics, are "shopping around" for the best education they can find; they are no longer content with "ye old seminary in the woods." Many new programs, essential to modern theological education, such as field experience and urban studies, require special competency beyond the resources of most seminaries. For these multiple reasons, many seminary faculties see the need to combine with others to provide the educational resources needed



today. The cluster seems to otfer the advantages of improved theological education to a degree that most seminaries could not meet on their own. FINANCES

Many seminaries, both Catholic and Protestant, are feeling the pinch between dwindling student bodies and increased costs of education. Large plants and real estate holdings now stand idle or are only partially used. Separate student housing and library facilities increase seminary budgets almost to the breaking point. The cluster may offer sorne solution to these financial problems. As the AATS report puts it: "One of the ... financial benefits of such cooperation ventures is the opportunity they will afford to redeploy capital which today is tied up in plant and real estate. By moving to new locations, using more modest facilities, and sharing many of these with other seminaries, seminaries have the opportunity to put sorne of this capital to more productive use in support of instructional programs" ("A Theological Education for the '70's," Theological Education, Summer, 1968, 826). Sorne seminaries have already made this move, but it is not an easy decision for administrators and religions authorities. Often it means abandoning impressive and traditional locations, close to the heart of students, faculty, and alumni. Yet increasing costs may require such alternatives. Sorne sug-. gest that the costs of such a move may be offset by the advantages of increased fund raising since many private foundations and outside financial interests will be more interested in "funding" a -cluster for ecumenical education than an individual seminm-y. While this view has not yet been proven, it does seem to be weil founded. Aside from the problem of moving to new locations, many other financial savings can be made in administrative costs, library holdings, and perhaps in faculty. No doubt the cluster itself will requin! financial support, perhaps even add to seminary costs at !east during its formative years. Over the long run though a cluster should create a better financial situation than the present system of multiplying costs by individual seminaries and denominations.



Yet these reasons are not sufficient to ex plain wh y Roman Catholic and. Protestant seminaries are clustering together. A new and vital element must be considered, the spirit of ecumenism. As this spirit of ecumenical cooperation has grown among the churches, its influence has been felt in the seminaries. Almost ali seminaries today have begun to develop sorne programs in ecumenical studies. At first these may be no more adventurous than invi ting a J ewish Rabbi or Catholic priest to give a lecture or special course in his "tradition". In the face of a vastly changing and secular world more and more educators realize this is not enough. Christians must enter into an in depth dialogue with each other if the spirit of ecumenism is to bear fruit. The barriers of hostility, church rivalry, and denominational clannishness have begun to break down, not only in seminaries, but throughout our churches, local parishes, and schools. The climate of ecumenism is increasing, spmTed no doubt by the efforts of Pope John and Pope Paul as weil as those of many other Catholic and Protestant leaders. Many dioceses and even local parishes have established programs for ecumenical cooperation and dialogue. What better preparation for the pastors of the future than that in their very training they come to understand through direct contact the traditions and values of fellow Christians and fellow ministers? A cluster, which ideally seeks to mix 3 Catholic and 4 Protestant seminaries together, seems to be the best place for this spirit to grow. Lest sorne fear that this form of education may lead to religions "indifferentism" or even "conversions" to other religions, they should visit a class or seminar between students of different religions beliefs. Invariably each student becomes more aware of the depth of his own tradition, its values, and his own commitment to them; he learns at fu¡st hand to respect the values of others. There is no attempt or desire to "water down" or take "defensive apologetic" positions, but rather truth and honest inquiry are the tools and goals of students and professors. There are sorne real questions and problems involved and I will treat of these more at length in this paper, but the seminary cluster



does seem an important step toward imp1¡oving the climate of Christian cooperation. In addition to these three reasons, common to ail clusters, two others should be considered: university setting and urban location. Many seminaries grew up in rural areas and apart from major universities. Today's student and today's ministry may weil require a closer affiliation with a large urban university. The 'need for exchange between theology and the various sciences, particularly psychology, sociology, and the liberal arts can best be fostered in such a setting. Today's seminarian does not wish to be isolated from the student world or from the city where he will one day minister. During his educational and formative years it is important for him to be in contact with the world of ideas and the world of action. Most of the clusters which have so far arisen have attempted to bridge these problems by affiliating in sorne way or other with a large urban university. The cluster itself may be able to olfer the university and the city ministry its own talents and combined resources as weil as profit from theirs so that a real exchange takes place. Whether or not this means a change in geographical location, it does mean that seminaries and clusters of seminaries must develop and promote these contacts. Whereas a single seminary, even one which has been associated with such a university, may fee! "!ost" in this urban and university world, a strong cluster of seminaries can provide the forces to truly influence education and urban studies. Moreover many universities are more open to association with such a cluster with its ecumenical advantages than they would be to a single denominational seminary. Among the many clusters which al'e now in existence or at !east at the planning stages, three have taken prominent place: the Gradua te Theological Union (Berkeley, California), the¡ Boston Theological Institute, and the Toronto School of Theology. Each of these is at varions stages of development and cooperation and have different programs and problems. Yet they may provide models for future clusters. Let us look briefly at each one.



On the outskirts of the University of California at Berkeley, ·on a quiet street among a row of "fra t" bouses stands an old Georgian red-brick building, the headquarters for the Graduate Theological Union. Here housing the administrative offices of President Dr. John Dillengerger is the center of the first tr,uly ecumenical cluster on the Americl)n scene, a little over three years old. GTU is unique in that it is a graduate school of theology composed of member schools of severa! religions denominations and Catholic religions orders. Ali the schools cooperate as a single graduate faculty granting degrees of Th.D., and, in conjunction with the University of California, the Ph.D. Practically ali the schools are within walking distance of each other; the J esuits and Franciscans have just recently moved from other locations to take up residence.in severa! "frat" bouses close by. This close geographical location is both cause and symbol of the close cooperation among the schools. Next to its excellent faculty, one of the best assets of this cliîster is its "Bibliographical Center" which catalogues and coordinates thé libraries of the various schools. In itself the Center is one of the best theological resources in the United States for graduate studies. Although the schools work together as a single unit on the graduate leve!, each school maintains its own program for students in basic theological training or first degree leve! (B.D.). However this faU GTU plans to begin to coordinate programs for these students as weiL Admittedly by concentrating on the graduate leve! GTU was able to make quick advances in cooperative efforts and avoid many denominational fears. Now that its success has led to greater trust and cooperation among the schools it can begin to work on this basic leve! also. Severa! other groups are associated with the Graduate Union, such as the Diocesan Seminary at Menlo Park and the Catholic Center for Theological Education (for the training of lay theologians), even though as yet they are not part of the Union. GTU posseses the twin·advantages of' close proximity among its member schools and close cooperation with one of the largest . urban universities. Being the first cluster, GTU has often been used as a mode! for others, yet with surprising differences.



On the opposite seaboard, on the grounds of Episcopal Theological Seminary, close to Harvard Yard, a white colonial building houses the office of Dr. Walter Waggoner, Dean of Boston Theological Institute. Just entering its second year this cluster of seven schools whose Catholic members are St. John's Diocesan Seminary, Boston College, and the Jesuit Weston Seminary, coordinates sorne of the best theological resources in the country including those of Harvard Divinity and Boston University. Yet this cluster rose in response to quite different problems from those of GTU. First it concentrates on programs for the basic leve! or first degree rather than graduates studies. Its students generally are aiming at the pastoral ministry. Renee ¡its . programs must allow for greater flexibility and denominational differences than those of GTU. While students are allowed to freely register in other schools for courses, each school controls the amount of such cross-registration according to its own standards and denominational needs. Generally students are encouraged to crossregister as long as they take the large bulk of their courses in their own seminary or school. Secondly many of the schools are scattered throughout the Boston-Cambridge region. In effect two mini-clusters have arisen within the large one. On one side of the Charles river, Harvard, Episcopal, and Weston (Jesuit) have entered into very close cooperation among themselves, especially since the Jesuits moved from their country setting to take up residence near Harvard and share class-room facilities with Episcopal Theological Seminary. These three schools have begun to work toward a common faculty in history, scripture, and languages. No doubt by size and prestige Harvard stands out in this cluster, but also receives the advantages of increased student body and ecumenical faculty. Across the river the other schools, St. John's Boston College, Andover-Newton, and Boston University Divinity School, have also drawn doser together if to a lesser degree. Thirdly, BTI grants no degrees on its own nor is it affiliated with any single ¡university, though many of the member schools are. Yet by coordinating and combining the resources of severa! schools BTI has been able to develop programs which no single mem-



ber could have done. One of the best results so far has been in the area of field education. Here under the leadership of Dr. Tjaard Hoomes many programs specifically for training in pastoral ministry have been developed which give real promise for the future of theological education. In an area where traditionally Catholics and Protestants have held aloof or even been antagonistic to one another, the Boston Brahmin and the Boston Catholic are learning from each other. TORONTO SCHOOL OF THEOLOGY

Surrounding the University of Toronto severa! schools, both Catholic and Protestant, have joined a loose ¡confederation called theToronto School of Theology. Most of the schools are in close proximity, but one Regis (Jesuit) is more than % hour distant from the central campus. Cooperation in integration of courses has been agreed upon and cross-registration is open in many areas. Attempts are being made to eliminate reduplication and overlapping of courses. This year ali courses in Hebrew will be taught at one school, Trinity College (Anglican), and a basic course of Church history will be given by a team of ecumenical scholars. While each school continues to give its own basic courses in theology for its students, others are invited to participate in these course. Toronto is still just in its beginning stages but already has developed a high degree of cooperation, and its members are enthusiastic about the future. In addition to these clusters severa! other areas are in the process of creating clusters, such as Atlanta, Dubuque, Philadelphia, New York, and Chicago. Each area has its own special needs and ils own special problems. Sorne enjoy the advantage of close proximity among member schools while otl1ers attempt to coordinate programs among widely scattered institutions, through the use of traveling pools, special schedules, evening programs, use of T.V. etc. So far none has found that distance in itself prevents cooperation so Io"ng as there is sufficient interest and worthwhile programs. Most educators, however, admit that cooperation is more likely to occur if schools are within walking distance of each other, wherever this is possible. From this brief survey we see that each



cluster arase to meet special needs and that no two are identical. Perhaps it is too early to make any judgment on the success or failure of these new forms of theological education. So many factors are involved and the very newness of the cluster concept makes it diflicult to set up any hard and fast guidelines. Y et I would like to suggest three norms or guide!ines as essential for the success of a cluster experiment. These are 1) commitment to new forms of theological education, 2) a high degree of involvement of students, faculty, ¡ and religions bodies, and 3) suflicient financial support.



A cluster is more than a service agency, more than an impressive catalogue of faculty and course offerings, more than a combined, ecumenical school. Mere numbers, impressive library holdings, expensive and competent faculty, and urban Jocation do not of themselves make a cluster; they may indeed constitute a multi-seminary with ali the problems, drawbacks, and impersonalization of many of our present niulti-universities. No financial savings are worth the Joss of individual and persona! contact or denominational interests and beliefs. Unless the cluster leads to new and significant advances in theological education it may be nothing more than a paper victory over the present situation. The hard and fast question which must continually be asked is whether the students themselves receive a better, more comprehensive, inore integrated, and indeed more Christian education from the cluster than they would have received from any single isolated unit. Unless the combined faculties are willing to remove serions overlapping of courses, to drop outmoded techniques and incompetent members, to create courses and programs which fit the students' and the churches' needs today, then the cluster will not benefit theology and ministry. To multiply mediocrity is no advance in education,. nor is size alone a sign of success. The cluster by combining many talents and specialities should lead to just such improvements. There are two areas particularly where the cluster can be effective-in field education and community involvement. Only in recent years has field education begun to be taken seriously as part of a student's training. Today



many theological educators are beginning to see that it is more than just a part of the student's education but ought to be the . very basis for his theological understanding. For 911ly as theology meets the 1·eal !ife experiences of the active ministry will it come alive and have impact on the !ife of the Christian community and the !ife of the student. Like war and generais theology is too important to be left in the hands of theologians. It must be joined to the practical experience of vast numbers of dedicated Christian leaders both religions and lay. It can no longer be sheltered in ivory towers or behind covers of books in unused libraries, but in contact with !ife. No single seminary or denomination can present the fulness of experience needed for this type of education. ·A cluster should be the ideal setting for this style of theology. It can combine the best minds, the most capable and reflective theologians representing different traditions, and a vast number of trained specialists, and offer a wide variety of pastoral experience& for the student. In this way the student cornes to experience and integrate his theology rather thau just memorize it. In no way does this !essen the importance of the theological education which the student must acquire in his own seminary and in the tradition of church of which he is a believing member, but enables him to experience through the cluster this wider community to which he and his church must also minister. The very fact that the cluster representa varions church bodies means thàt it has a much wider impact on the community than any single member. Just as a single seminary, so the cluster too can withdraw, remain on its own "campus", stay aloof from the wider community which it .must serve. Y et it is precisely here that the cluster should have great influence, but this will put demands upon students and faculties. To be successful the cluster must give evidence that it is committed to these new f01·ms of theological education. HIGH DEGREE OF INVOLVEMENT

This second factor is much more difficult to assess. Without a high degree of interest and involvement on the part of faculty, administrators, students, and religions bodies a cluster can not even get started much Jess continue effectively. For the



cluster will demand many hours of committee meetings, travel and expense, particularly in its formative years and indeed to sorne extent throughout its existence. y et each school has its own special problems, continuing !ife and student interests, which absorb so much of its attention. Y et time, interest, and attention must be given to the whole cluster if it is to succeed. As one administrator put it "In the beginning each school thought 90% about its own interests and 10% about the cluster, now at !east its 50-50 and that's real progress." Until each school sees its own interests as involved with this Iarger group, the cluster will make little progress. The degree of involvement will d_epend to a large extent on the amount of trust which grows among the various schools. To succeed a cluster. may have to start with very small steps until this trust can be generated. Yet each step should Iead to greater involvement on the part of students and faculty. But no cluster can really succeed unless it has the support of the various religions bodies and particularly the support of the local clergy. Every seminary has its loyal body of alumni; the cluster as su ch has none. Stiii it can be of service to these men and women through a variety of programs in continuing education, urban studies, and pastoral concerns. From its vast resources of personnel and variety of programs, a cluster can provide for true ecumenical studies which will profit the local community. Indeed a cluster should generate cooperation among the varions bodies of clergy and Iaity that it serves as weil as profit from their continuing interest and support. FINANCES

Perhaps we in our seminar training never thought much about the cost of education, but certainly bishops and comptroiiers must. The cluster will require at !east initially large grants if it is to work effectively and promote new forms of education. Sorne clusters already in existence are woefuiiy underfinai:tced and must cm¡tail worthwhile programs. Ail administrators, staff, and special programs are expensive and will add to the present costs .of the member seminaries. Wh ile outside aid from foundations and others may be expected, this aid is often dependent upon the amount that each seminary is



willing to contribute to the cluster. To attt路act such grants the cluster must prove its viability over a period of years, at !east three, and hence lts major expenses must be borne by the member institutions and their religions bodies. It would be a serions mistake to see the cluster as an immediate answer to increasing costs, for the cluster itself will attract faculty and personnel which may be even more expensive thau at present. As we have said, over-the-long-run the cluster should lead to financial savings, but for the immediate future it路 would be better to say that the cluster will provide a better use of funds thau any significant decrease. lndeed it will probably demand increases for there is no such thing as a "cheap" education. If the supporting institutions and religious leaders are wholehearted in their commitment to the advantages of the cluster then they will see that it does receive the financial support it needs. RELIGIOUS INDIFFERENTISM

路so far we have presented the positive case for clustering. 路 Yet many do fear honestly that this form of education may lead to religions indifferentism or depersonalizing of seminary education. These are real concerns and every cluster has tried to openly .face these twin problems. A cluster is not a single, large, ecumenical seminary, but a group of seminaries cooperating together. Each seminary rightly maintains its own autonomy and guides its own programs in studies and formation for its students. Especially in the area of basic theological education, each sees that its students are familiar with their own tradition. Moreover it is important that the administra tors of a cluster be sympathetic to the interests and beliefs of each member school and the denomination they serve. Ali experience so far shows that the students themselves gain a deeper insight into their own faith and church tradition precisely because they are in dialogue with others. Y et a cluster can and should help to dramatically break down the barriers of hostility and religions bigotry which may exist either consciously or subconsciously among its members. Just to visit another campus, be in class with men and women of different religious persuasions, taught by a group of scholars of varying backgrounds,



can do more to awaken Christian charity and understanding than any number of learned articles of courses on ecumenism. M01·eover there are many areas of theological education where denominational differences are eliminated, and here the cluster can especially benefit the stud~nt. Certainly no member or administrator of a cluster advocates religions indifferentism. Tli.e goal of a cluster is not to jell eve1·yone together but to enable members of varying faiths to learn from each other and to understand common problems. Hence it is important for the cluster not to absorb its member schools but to coordinate them in a common effort. The danger of depersonalization is a risk which each cluster must guard against. One must admit the possibility of a student feeling "!ost" in a large multi-seminary. Yet the experience of ali clusters so far is that this danger can be controlled and even eliminated. The cluster by relieving course loads, cutting down on administrative tasks, and maintaining the autonomy of each school should enable students and faculty to enter into much more persona! relationships. Indeed the cluster in theological education might be ·a helpful mode! for many of our multi-universities. For here a group of severa! small closely-knit groups are united in a common purpose yet maintaining their own autonomy and student interests which may be the answer to the growing impersonalism so much resented by students on many large campuses. In the cluster ideally the student should fee! he is an integral part of his own school, church, and tradition, as. weil as a part of a larger, wider community. Let me conclude by saying that the cluster mode! for theological education is gaining increasing support among educators and religions leaders, but its most ardent advocates are the students themselves who have experienéed this style of education. Perhaps this student interest is the best indicator of the success of a cluster as weil as the best hope for its continuing success. While every cluster differs in programs, degree of cooperation, and religions traditions involved, in ali of them without exception students seem enthusiastiè and eager to increase their own participation. No doubt these future religions leaders, faculty, and administrators will see that the prophecy of the AATS cornes to fulfillment.

Jared Wicks, S.J.

Luther through Catholic Eyes

Ma1¡tin Luther more than anyone else is the incamation of Reformation Christianity. His image is changing.

Reports on the emergence and present development of ecumenism among .Roman Catholics inevitably speak of Catholics' new appreciation for the Protestant Ref01mers. Often, I find, this appreciation is no more than a vague kind of sympathy generated by the spirit of "the open Church" and by a realization of the deep Christian substance evinced by Protestant friends and acquaintances. But a whole series of recent publications shows a Catholic sympathy for the Refotmer Martin Luther that goes far beyond this. In fact, one can say that a new sub-field of theological literature has suddenly become weil populated. This is the field of Catholic Luther Scholarship. ¡ What follows is a brief account of the main works in this sector of .ecumenical theology. I would emphasize that this is an 275



ongoing activity, a cm-rent venture, and for the most part we cannot yet speak of secured resulta and widely accepted conclusions. Thus, 1 limit myself to giving an initial orientation or interim report. The c1路ucial turning point that opened the new epoch of Catholic work on Luther was the appearance in 1939 of the first volume of Joseph Lortz' history of the Reformation in Germany. This monumental work, recently released in English translation by Herder & Herder, centers about a 300-page essay on Luther's !ife and theology. With this one publication the stormy polemics of four centuries were resolutely brought to an end. Sixteenth century Catholics, like Emser, Cochlaeus, and Pistorius, had approached Luther with blatant hatred. At the turn of the twentieth century Heinrich Denifle heatedly charged Luther with being a theological ignoramus and a fallen, libertine monk in whom no ounce of Christianity remained. Hartmann Grisar tried to approach Luther more calmly, but produced a cold and onesided reading. In Joseph Lmtz ali this was finnly and definitively superseded by a careful historian who is weil aware of Luther's central religions intention. L01tz' central achievement remains his interpertation of Luther in the Church of the early sixteenth century-an aspect of Lmtz' work said to have displeased Pius XII and led to "postponement" of later printings of his work until 1958. However, Lortz' central achievement remains his interpreation of Luther as the horno ,路eligiosus. JOSEPH LORTZ

Lmtz, we hasten to add, is not an uncritical or naive enthusiast for Luther. He is a competent historian who knows that criticism is an essential part of his task. Lortz points to extremes in Luther, for example, to that Jack of the restraint that should mark a teacher subject to the Word of God. Lortz shows where Luther was impulsive and overbearing in a way 路that disto1ted the fu tt message of the New Testament. But, still, Lortz' overall judgment is permeated with a profound amazement at Luther's spiritual 路 intensity, at the wide range of his abilities, at the vastness of his productive tabor, at his



linguistic genius, and at his all-consuming concentration of his !ife and theology on God's grace revealed in Christ. Lortz shows that a Catholic historian can have a real ad vantage in studying the Reformers. He has the critical distance needed for good j udgment. His perspective is not affected by a pre-scientific commitment to Luther as the prophetie renewer of Christianity after centuries ·of . decadence. Further, the Catholic researcher often knows far more about the issues posed in the RefOI'I!lation era than do his Protestant colleagues. Sorne of these very issues (biblical preaching, vernacular liturgy, scholastic or non-scholastic theology) are being debated in the Church today. Thus I would suggest that "Catholic" Luther scholarship is not a mere adjunct or peripheral part of the recovery of Luther. This is the kind of question forced on us by the work of someone like Joseph Lortz. In any case, one can safely say that his achievement made possible ali the recent works showing this new approach to Luther. · Stephanus Pfürtner, O.P., wrote ·a small book, Luther and Aquinas on Salvation (Sheed and Ward, 1965), that shows what is possible when the debris of four polemical centuries has been cleared away. Pfürtner took a fresh look at Luther's doctrine of saving faith-the faith or fiducia this is most certainly assured to forgiveness and God's grace. First, this doctrine must be seen in tandem with Luther's repeated warnings against security in Christian living. Then, Pfürtner sets Luther's teaching along side what Thomas Aquinas wrote on the virtue of Christian hope. Aquinas has a remarkable doctrine of reliance on God made possible by God's gift. The result is the suggestion that Luther and Aquinas are much closer to each other than the controversies over fiducial faith and certitude of grace would ever lead us to suspect. In his Foreword, Jaroslav Pelikan spoke of how Pfürtner's tentative conclusions forced him to take another look at both Luther and Aquinas, and thus move out of "the Parochialism of our distinct little pasts, whether Thomistic or Lutheran." No matter what one eventually says about Pfürtner's conclusions--and they have been challenged-the resulting reexamination is a genuine step in the right direction. Perhaps today's most widely read book on Luther by a Cath-



olic is John Todd's Ma1·tin Luther-A Biogmphical Study (Newman Press, 1964). Todd is an English layman who shows great sympathy for Luther. He lmows Luther's deep spirituality, his suffering over the unchristian elements in Church !ife in his day, and his trenchant proposais for reform. However, Todd's book is not the product of primary research on Luther. He depends heavily on the historian, Gordon Rupp, and on a large store of British common sense. On a number of factual matte1-s I would have questions about Todd's narrative. For instance, the heroic scene in which Luther posts his 95 theses on indulgences on the door of the Wittenberg Castle Church (October 31, 1517) is better taken as a legend that arose after Luther's death. ln portraying the historie clash between Luther and Cardinal Cajetan at Augsburg, in 1518, Todd shows the influence of the playwright John Osborn in his fascination with the personalities üf the t\•.ro men_ This leads to missing the point over which the two men argued, as Luther collided for the first time -with the teaching Church. Lastly, Todd gives ve·ry seant attention to Luther's momentous controvérsy with Zwingli over the Real Presence of Christ's Body and Blood in the Lord's Supper. Luther's defense of the Real Presence dominated his work from 1525 to 1530, and "deserves more than one paragraph. This dogrnatic strain in Luther may not be popular today, but it can!lot be left out of a biography, especialiy when we have the main documents available in reliable English translation in Volumes 36 and 37 of Luther's Works-The American Edition. THE LUTHERAN CONGRESS

The year 1966 provided one smali landmark in Catholic work on Luther. This was the Third International Congress for Luther Resem·ch, held in Jarvenpaa, Firuand. Here 120 scholars gathered from ali continents and ali confessions for six intensive days of papers, semina1-s, and conve1-sation about Luther. Everyone remarked how good it was to have Catholic participants. These were not merely observers, but twelve fullfledged members of the guild who cited Luther with ease and explained his work in a fresh and sympathetic manner. Warren Quanbeck of Luther Theological Seminary in St. Paul told



me that among the twelve papers he learned most from Erwin Iserloh's presentation of the Christ-mysticism in Luther's teaching on justification-the one f01mal contribution by a Catholic participant. Erwin Iserloh holds the chair of Modern Church History in the Münster Catholic faculty and for the past ten years has concentrated his research on Luther. His most controversial · work in the little volume, The Tkeses Were not Posted (Beacon Press, 1968), which focuses sharply on the events of October and November 1517, the time traditionally charted as the beginning of the Reformation. Actually, Iserloh finds Luther in these months still between ref01m and Ref01mation, that is, between a biblical renewal of theology and preaching and the doctrinal positions which led to division. On October 31, Luther sent his 95 theses on indulgences along with a little treatise on the subject to the Archbishop of Mainz, who had commissioned ·Johann Tetzel to preach the St. Peter's indulgence. Iserloh's careful reading of ali Luther's own statements in retrospect about this day tm"lls up no !east reference to any public posting of the theses. In fact, Luther maintained in letters and other writings that he did nothing in public until the bishops failed to respond to his well-grounded pleas fot' ref01m in the preaching of indulgences. At first even Luther's best friends did not know about his intervention. Luther is most insistent that after warning the Archbishop of his pastoral responsibility, he gave him time to take steps with regard to Tetzel, and then only when nothing happened did he begin to circulate his theses. Thus we see Luther going through correct channels to correct an abuse, but receiving no hearing from the Church's responsible pastors. This is not the version found in most hist01y books and retold in Ref01mation Day sermons, but it seerns a far more just and engaging view of Luther's actio?s in th ose fateful days of late 1517. In 1967 Iserloh brought out a full history of the Reformation as part of Volume IV of the Herder Handbook of Church Hi.stm"?J (translation in preparation). Characteristically, much of his narrative deals with Luther's career as teacher and Reformer, and this has been hailed by Protestant histot·ians as a mode! presentation of their sixteenth century origins. The one criticism I have heard of Iserloh's histoty is it was so generons



in covering Luther that it neglected to give equal space to John Calvin. JUDGED BY THE SCRIPTURE

In 1966 another note was sounded by Paul Hacker, who wrote in German on "the Ego in faith" in Luther's teaching (Graz: Styria Verlag). This is a wide-ranging critique of Luther's theology and spirituality that rests on careful analysis of a number of texts which Stephanus Pfürtner did not treat. Hacker charges that Luther tends to exclude the Biblical attitude before God of loving adoration. Luther is concemed to stt·ain with the Word of God until it engenders in hlm a conscious and consoling certitude of his own individual forgiveness and grace. Luther, according to Hacker, teaches the Christian tJ) he so concerned with apprehending or grasping his own salvation in Christ that the attitudes of sorrow for sin and loving self-donation to God ·are made peripheral. Paul Hacker writes about one major tlaw in Luther's religious genius. He does not pi·esent the \Yhole Luther, and even in his one point there is a degree of imprecision. Hacker is hard on Luther and in places appears to be choosing texts that fit his thesis while neglecting neighboring texts showing another side of Luther. Still, his work retains its imp01tance, because of his impressive knowledge of Luther and his passion for judging Luther by the one norm acceptable to ali, the New Testament. Somewhat parenthetically, we should note the booklet of Richard Stauffer, Luther as Seen by Catholics (John Knox Press, 1967), which gives a useful survey of the Catholic views on Luther in our century. He speaks in deta,j] about the works coming before Lortz and traces the influence of the early bitterness on popular writing by Catholics on Luther down to the work of John Todd. But Stauffer had the misfortune to write his book during the very time when a number of major works on Luther by Catholics were being prepared. The 450th anniversary of the beginning of the Reformation fell in 1967. The September issue of the Jesuit quarterly, Theological Studies, was indicative of the change that was taking place. Father Robert McNally of Fordham and Professor Authur Piepkom of Concordia Seminary in St. Louis wrote



in this number on the issues at the beginning of the Reformation. Louis Spitz of Stanford gave a masterful survey of recent literature on Luther. Father John O'Malley of the University of Detroit presented some astute reflections on how men of the sixteenth century tended to view their own age, thus giving an important approach to the elusive "mentality" of Luther's own time. The present writer presented a text by Luther on indulgences in translation with commentary. This was a short treatise showing Luther's remarkable understanding of indulgences in 1517 and witnessing to his insistence on the need for eamest prayer for God's healing grace. Moving closer to the present, we can begin with Father Harry McSorley's book, Luther: Right or Wrong? (Newman and Augsburg, 1969). This was originally a dissertation done in the Catholic faculty of the University of Munich and was published in German in 1967. The topic is the sixteenth century "hattie of the giants"-the confrontation between Luther and Erasmus on the freedom of the will. McSorley's work elucidates my earlier remark about Catholic scholars having a better "fee!" for the issues at stake in the early days of the Reformation. He begins with a 200 page sm-vey of the interrelation of grace and freedom in Scripture, the Fathers, the early Councils, High Scholasticism, and in the late medieval nominalists whose influence was so strong in Luther's time. This gives McSorley an excellent foundation for evaluating Luther and Erasmus over against this many-sided Christian tradition. McSorley does not give a simple answer to the provocative question in the title of his English version. Luther is far too complex to fit into¡ su ch a neat alternative. He keeps spilling out over any brief generalization. The best thing about McSorley's work is the way he sifts carefully what Luther says on grace and freedom. There is a difference between Luther's witness to our absolute need of God's grace and his strained use of philosophical arguments about the necessity with which God's plan is carried out in the world. The latter argument with its deterministic tendency can be separated from the first point of biblical doctrine. Thus, where Luther wrote on the bondage of the will there is good reason for saying that he was both right and wrong. The significance of McSorley's reassessment



of Luther is highlighted by the fact that the English version is the joint release of a Lutheran and a Catholic publishing house. LUTHER AND AQU!NAS

Potentially, the most significant recent work on Luther by any scholar is Otto H. Pesch's dissertation on the theology of justification in Luther and Thomas Aquinas (released in German by Matthias Grünewald of Mainz, 1967). Pesch is a gifted young Dominican who created a new theological genTe and then proceeded to give a massive demonstration (lxxi+ 1010 pages) of what he meant. Pesch is not simply concemed to reevaluate Luther, as L01tz and McSorley have done. Nor is he concerned with primary research on Luther. His is rather a systematic-comparative study of the two classic representatives of Protestant and Catholic thinking. Pesch begins from the work of reputable Luther scholars on the Reformer's notions of sin, law and gospel, grace, justification, and sanctification. He then asks Aquinas what of this teaching he would agree with. One is immediately amazed at the large area of common ground Pesch can point out. He then goes on to ascettain what Luther has added over and above the matters of common conviction, and to investigate what indications thet:e are that Aquinas might be open to what is specifie to Luther. In both parts of Pesch's work, we meet a wealth of detail, but also an effortless clarity of thought expressed in" uncommonly lucid German prose. Finally, Father Pesch attempts to explain in his concluding section what the fundamental point is that leads to the differences between Aquinas· and Luther on particular points. According to Pesch, Aquinas is a "sapiential theologian," who is concerned to describe and celebrate God's wisdom in the total plan of creation, fall, redemption, and the consummation of ali in Cht·ist. Here the theologian is a detached observer, who gi v es God the honor of profound attention to ali parts of his creative and saving work. Luther, on the other hand, is an "existential theologian," for whom every theological question centers on what God is saying to the individual, sinful men. Every theological statement is sorne form of the struggle toward confessing God's saving goodness. Pesch concludes with the question whether we are not dealing here with two corn-



plementary styles of doing theology, styles which could very weil C{H)xist within the same ecclesial home and which may even need each other as insurance against the distortions involved in exclusiveness. lt is too early to evaluate just what has been gained through Pesch's work. lt has a certain tentative character about it, because of its wide reliance on the work of other scholars for capturing the content and spirit of Luther's work. Also, one must admit that the relevance of Thomas Aquinas has dimmed somewhat, as Catholics move with a rush into the use of biblical and personalist conceptions in theology. For comparison with Luther there may be more kindred spirits in the Catholic spiritual tradition, for instance a person like St. Bernard of Clairvaux. However, the work of Otto H. Pesch is certain to occupy a central place in discussions about Luther for years to come. Alone, his account of Thomas Aquinas' thought will stir the minds of many. His hypothesis about. Luther and Aquinas being basically complementary should be tested, applied to other areas (sacraments, ecclesiology), and refined into a basic means of understanding the Catholic and Protestant traditions. CLEARING THE DEBRIS

August Hasler did his dissertation, Luthe,- in de,- katholischen Dogmatik (Munich, Hueber, 1968), at the Gregorian University in Rome and is nowa collaborator of Cardinal Willebrands in the Secretariate of Christian Unity. He has gone over the presentation of Luther's theology of sin, justifying grace, and the sacraments in sixty manuals of Catholic theology published in the past quarter century. He then contrasts this view of Luther with the commonly acĂŠepted version of his teaching in repu table studies by Luther scholars. Hasler shows that the Luther of our textbooks was the darkly pessimistic, quite illogical, sin-centered, antinomian teacher of a wholly extrinsic forgiveness of sin. What follows virtually demolishes this view as an incomplete and often twisted misunderstanding of Luther's views. Hasler goes on to show the reasons for. this, and calls for Catholic systematic theologians to come down form their towers to read Luther himself, or at !east to make themselves familiar with the better work done on him in the



past decades. Thus, Hasler has done a courageous deed and cleared away a great amount of theological debris. 路 The present writer's own dissertation, Man Yearning for Grace (Corpus, 1969) stl路ives to give a straightforward exposition of Luther's earl y works of 1509 to 1517. Here his prime interest was the inculcation of an intense spirituality of prayer, penance, and constant unrest to advance . Luther sets each man squarely under the impact of God's ward of judgment and grace. I think Luther's early work reached a highpoint in the months of 1517 just before the outbreak of the indulgence controversy. He began to stress the victorious work of Christ and accentuated the power of God's grace to transform the sick heart of man. Luther wrote and argued weil against the theology of nominalist scholasticism, especially where this theology was ovedy optimistic about man's purely natural powers outside grace. Luther approached indulgences from the viewpoint of the Christian penitent who must be concemed to expel the roots of sin still flawing his action. This man is not simply concemed to know he is forgiven, but constantly begging God for the searing, healing grace that does his selfseeking to death. This is Luther's rich vision of Christian living, which can be a powerful source of renewal for today's Protestants and Catholics alike. More research is needed, especially on the origins and main themes of Luther's theology of the sacraments, to see if he retained this impressive spirituality in his mature years. As far as I can see, the most recent work of Catholic Luther scholarship is the Gregorian University dissertation of the Flemish Jesuit, Joseph Vercruysse, on Luther's ecclesiology in 1513-15 (Fidelis Populns, published in German by Steiner Verlag of Wiesbaden, 1968). At his time Luther was beginning his teaching career by lecturing on the Psalms, and he often intet路preted the Psalm verses as the prayers of Christ or of the Church. Vercruysse's work shows Luther teaching his spirituality of holy dissatisfaction and concentrating on God's address to men in words of judgment, testimony, and promise of salvation. Vercruysse's work is a good example of what Catholic scholars can contribute to the historical investigations of detailed questions about Luther's !ife and teaching, much in the style of Joseph Lortz, Erwin Jserloh, and Harry McSorley. This is Jess overtly ecumenical work, but primarily 路historical



theology done side-by-side with Protestant scholars also engaged in recapturing the full measure of the authentic Luther. This historical work is nicely complemented by the comparative studies of Stephan us PfĂźrtner, Otto H. Pesch, and August Hasler, who deal with Luther as systematic theologians concerned with the perennial questions of Christian doctrine. These scholars make explicit the wide "overlap" between Luther and much of the Catholic tradition. Further, by such a conception as Pesch's distinction between sapiential and existential theology, they point the way to even further Catholic rapprochement and the man, Martin Luther, who more than anyone else is the incarnation of Reformation Christianity.


The Resurrection of/es us and the Worldly Presence of the Church The resurrection of Jesus • from the dead is an event of fulfillment. The theologians of hope, notably Jürgen Moltmann and Wolfhart Pannenberg, have recently argued for the importance of the apocalyptic tradition as the appropriate context against which the New Testament, and particularly the resurrection of Jesus, is to be understood. While this emphasis in sorne respects marks a rather dramatic return in contemporary theology to the much earlier discoveries of Johannes Weiss and Albert Schweitzer, it is nonetheless quite distinctive in approach on a number of counts. While Schweitzer, for example, is concerned primarily with apocalyptic in the preaching and selfconsciousness of Jesus, the theologians of hope are mu ch more concernerl with apocalyptic as an interpretive key to the resurrection-event, which Schweitzer ignores in his quest of the historical Jesus. For the theologians of hope apocalyptic becornes the focus for perceiving the rightful place of Jesus and the raising of Jesus from the dead within the whole of salvation-history. The emergence of the apocalyptic tradition in the late Old Testament period marks the culmination of the history of promise into which Jesus must be inserterl, even if the resun·ection of Jesus does not simply bring the history of promise to a close. 287



For Moltmann, apocalyptic represents an unsurpassable universalizing of the promise. Not only are ali the nations of the world now included within the scope of the promise, but the whole cosmos as weil. "The whole world is now involved in God's eschatological process of history, not only the world of men and nations. The conversion of man in the prophetie message then finds its correlate in the conversion of the whole cosmos, of which apocalyptic speaks. The prophetie revolution among the nations expands to become the ci>smic revolution of ali things" (The Theo/.() gy of Hope, N.Y., 1967, p. 137). Not only does apocalyptic bring the promise to full cosmic universalism; it also intensifies the promise to an unsurpassable degree. "Only when the horizon of expectation extends beyond what is felt ¡to. be the final boundary of existence, i.e., beyond the bounds of death, does it reach an eschaton, a non 1J!us ultra. a novmn ultimurn . ... The intensification of the promise finds its approach to the eschatological in the negation of death" (Ibid., p. 132). Within this context of universalized and intensified promise the resurrection of Jesus from the dead is, and must be seen as, an event of fulfillment. And yet it is an event of fulfillment which does not annul history by bringing it definitively to a conclusion. Throughout the history of revelation "the 'fulfillments' are taken as expositions, confirmations and expansions of the promise" (Ibid., p. 105). Similarly, the resurrection of Jesus is both an event of fulfillment and simultaneously an event of fmther promise. It not only serves to bring history to a close in a certain sense; it also serves to inaugurate a new history. EMERGENCE OF THE CHURCH

Out of the resurl"ection-event the Church is born. This is ¡ not to suggest that the Church was in no sense coming to birth during the historical ministry of Jesus. However, the resurrection plays a uniquely determinative role in the emergence of the Church, pruticularly if the resurrection is understood, as it should be, in the closest possible connection with the return of Jesus to the Father and the sending of the Spirit. It has not, however, always been completely clear that the Church itself has allowed its own self-understanding to be thoroughly cleter~




mined by the resurrection-event. Stt·angely, the resurrection of Jesus has tended to recede into the background of the Church's consciousness. Instead of receiving the attention it merited in the dogmatic tract on christology, the resurrection came to be treated almost exclusively in apologetics. This has been noted, for· example, by Karl Rahner: "The dogmatic theologian must ask himself new questions about Easter. For when he looks up the dogmatic text-books of today and sees what the dogmatic theologian has to say as a professional on the theology of the resurrection, he has to confess somewhat regretfully that apart from sorne distinguished exceptions, of which there are natUJ·ally a few, at the present time very little is said about this fundamental event of the history of salvation. And that is not because there is little to be said about it. For it cannot be that dogmatic theology has nothing to say on the subject. It can only be due to an accident of history and a shortcoming in the fulfillment of the task that every text-book today offers a long treatise on Good Friday and disposes of Easter in a few !ines" ( Theowyical Investigations, vol. IV, Baltimore, 1966, p. 121). . If the resurrec,tion has not been·pahicularly important in the development of dogmatic christology, why should one expect that it would be particularly important in the development of dogmatic ecclesiology. The Church has unfortunately suffered as grievously as the resurrection from its treatment in an apologetical context. There is an understandable tendency in this context to think of Jesus' relationship to the Church in terms of the mode! of a founder who deliberately and of set purpose goes about creating the institutional structures and mechanics of the community which he wishes to survive him. Not only does the founder take care to in sure the harmonious working of the institutional chain of command, bÙt he also is concerned to define with ali possible clarity and precision the purposes and ends of the institution. The founder expends himself in the training of a group of disciples whose purpose it will be to carry on a particular task in the absence of the originating master. Jesus' relation to the Church is thus understood largely in terms of the historical ministry with sorne attention to the forty-day interval between the resurrection and ascension, which is itself understood as more or less a continua-



tion of this historical ministry of educational training. Unfortunately, this view of Jesus' relation to the Church too often depends upon an eisegesis, a reading of la ter · developments back into the text, rather than upon an exegesis which seeks to illumine the authentically historical pm-poses and intentions of Jesus, as far as these are recoverable of coui·se. That the Church is grounded in Jesus is beyond dispute, but the relation of Jesus to the Church is sUI·ely complex, more complex than the founder mode! can account for. The existence of the Church is rooted in the total event of the appearance of Jesus, including the ministry, death, reserruction, ascension, and sending of the Spirit. The question of Jesus' relationship to the Church is undoubtedly of great significance to the future of ecumenical relations and can hardly be exhausted here. ln fact the plll·pose of these retlections is ,:ather more modest. We should simply like to see what sort of ecclesial self-understanding of the Church's presence in the world emerges when the resurrection, understood as an event of fulfillment and promise against the background of apocalyptic, is allowed to be determinative. We are therefore not going to rely on any words of the historical J.esus -to establish this self-understanding, even if it need not be denied that such wôrds have an important role to play in a more fully developed presentation. In accord with the theologians of hope we wish to place the Church's function squarely within the context of the history of revelation and salvation understood as a h istory of promise consistently directed towards the future Kingdom of God. We wish to speak of a variety of modes of ecclesial presence in the world as these are suggested by meditation on the resurrectionevent. THE MISSIONARY MODE OF PRESENCE

The missionary mode of the Church's presence in the world would seem to be very clearly founded in that command of Jesus to "go, therefore, and make disciples of ali nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Roly Spirit" (Mt. 28 :19). However, it seems altogether likely that Jesus gave no explicit missionary command to his disciples. Hans Küng observes in this regard: "There is no historical evidence to show that he spoke of



his intention that the Gospel should also be preached in missionary manner to the Gentiles; ali passages which refer to this idea are disputed by experts. The behaviour of the primitive Christian community scarcely indicates that it had received a general missionary brief. At the time of ,the beginning of the mission to the Gentiles, no appeal to the words of Jesus as support is reported, even by Acts. The versions we have of the (post-Easter) missionary commandments of Jesus presumably dateâ from the time after the mission to the Centiles had already begun (The Church, New York, 1968, p. 111). Shortly thereafter Kßng suggests that the community's becoming "aware of the concrete implications and consequences of the uni versalism of Jesus' message ... was won through historical experiences and serions .conflicts" (Ibid., p. 112). Our purpose is not to trace the his tory of ¡ that development in the primitive community, but simply to suggest how the decision to go to the Gentile nations can be shown to harmonize with the implications of the resurrection understood in the context of apocalyptic expectation, in fact, that the decision to go to the Gentiles grows naturally out of the resurrection thus understood. The resurrection occurred against the background both of a narrowly nationalistic aspiration closely tied to political activism and of an ali-encompassing universalistic thrust directed beyond Israel towards the nations and even the cosmos as a whole. It is within the latter context of universaHsm that the resurrection is seen to be fraught with missionary significance. The resurrection is not to be interpreted as an event announcing in ad vance as it were the coming vindication of Israel over against and in opposition to her enemies. Rather, it is to be interpreted as the harbinger of the about-to-commence reign of God over ali his creation. Interpretee! within the context of apocalyptic, the resurrection is seen to be an event for, and not against ali things, an event heralding the future kingdom of God beyond the limits and power of death. The resutTection is a sign of life for ali life, a sign of fulfiliment for ali things. COMMUNITY FOR THE WHOLE

Whether the Church wills it or not, the inescapable logic of the resurrection compels the Church to be a community for



the whole. The Church's self-understanding is to be determined by the universal promise ·of the resurrection. The Church in a very profound sense cannat close the door on salvation to any man or any nation now that the door has been definitively opened by the raising np of Jesus from the dead. The intent of the resuri"ection prevents the Church from ever legitimately understanding itself as a community of the elect outside of which there is no salvation. The resurrection forbids the Church from relating to the world as if its sole purpose were to gather in the predestined ones from the massa damnata. Ali are predestined to the Kingdom in the resurrection with the result that the massa dŒmnata ha.s become a people of God, over whom God's daim has been established by the resurrection: The Church is the servant and instrument of the pm·poses and implications of the resurrection in the world. "JESUS IS LORD"

Through the resurrection the lordship of Jesus over bath the Church and the world ha.s been established. "Jesus is Lord" ·represents not only the most primitive Christian confession and creed, but also the most fundamental and irrevocable fact about the meaning of huma.n and even cosmic history. This lordship exists irrespective of one's consciousness of it or loyalty and allegiance to it. The present lordship of Jesus constitutes the basic indicative in the Church's understanding of itself and its relationship to the world. In relation to the world, the Church is the servant of the ·universal lordship of Jesus. This lordship exists not for the Church but for the coming Kingdom of God over ali things. Like the risen Christ, the Church cau only exist for the same Kingdom, never merely for itself and its own peculiar interests. Its interests are the Kingdom's. The Church cau only properly understand the resurrection vis-à-vis the totality of things and hence it cau only properly understand itself as elected to exist in a missionary mode of presence in the world. The Church is to be differentiated from the world as the œmmunity created directly out of faith in the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. This is not to be construed in the sense that the resurrection is only relevant to this community because it alone has such faith. ·Resurrection-faith is distinctive of the



Church's !ife, but it should not be interpeted in such a way that it once again turns the Church into a community of the elect over against the world. The Kingdom of God which has been announced in the resurrection is for ail, not just for those who have faith either in the resurrection or the Kingdom or both. The universalism of the resurrection must never be attenuated by requirements of Church membership. It is pre-cisely because the faith of this community is determined by the resurrection as an event of universal significance that this faith cannot legitimately be nsed to create an irresolvable differentiation between the Church and the World. This faith impels towards the totality because it is faith m an event which points intrinsically towards the totality. THE PROCLAMATION OF THE RESURRECTION

If faith in the resurrection is distinctive of the life of this

community, the proclamation of the resnr1¡ection is distinctive of the activity of this community. This proclamation takes place within the Church in its liturgical activity, both in word and sign. It also takes place beyond the liturgical community in missionary ministry. In fact this proclamation must take place within both contexts because the Church'lives out of and for the sake of the resurrection-mystery as the proleptic presence of the Kingdom. The Church's faith in and proclamation of the resurrection is ultimately ~ faith in and proclamation of the Kingdom which has come to expression definitively in the historical ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Faith and proclamation are ultimately directed to the Kingdom which is not yet, but which has already become proleptically present in the sign of the l'isen Jesus. The Church's proclamation to the world should be dominated, therefore, by the message of the resurrection, the message that Jesus has been raised up by God for our sakes. This message is indeed good news ; it is the best possible news. There is in fact no way of turning this good news into bad news unless we are determined to hedge in the good news of the resurrection with requirements which are to be fulfilled before this message can become good news. The good news of the resurrection is not conditioned by our membership in the Church, our faith in the resurrection, or the rightness of our way of life. The gracions-



ness of God has appeared in this act of resun·ection and there is no way for man to contravene that graciousness. Even when man refuses the resurrection-sign of the Kingdom, this resurt·ection-sign stiJl remains good news for him as for al\ th.ings. J·esus' resurrection heralds the coming reign of God over ali things indiscriminately. This is the good news, the gospel of salvation to the nations and to the cosmos. Ail things are alrewly included by God in the great irulicative of the resurrection of Jesus and no man, no church, may put asunder what God has joined together for his Kingdom. The free grace of God in Jesus risen from the dead may not now be turned into the expensive grace of membership requirements and ethical standards, however much cheap grace may be dep!ored and suspected. The Church proclaims the good news of the resurrection to . the nations and seeks to celebrate this good news with them. However, if the world or unbelief refuses ·to celebrate this good . news with the Church, the Church must celebrate it on the world's behalf .inasmuch as the world's refusa! of the good news does not invalidate it as good news worthy to be cele. brated. The Church may glory in the good news itself but never merely in its own response to the good news, as if this response made the Church better than others, more ·elect as it were. The Church in the light of the resurrection must understand itself as a community of service for the coming reign of God which has been heralded· for in the raising up of Jesus from the dead by God.



The Church's relationship to the world is always and everywhere detennined by its relationship of service to the coming reign of God as this has been made known in the resurrection of Jesus fmm the dead. On the _one hand, the Church proclaims and celebrates the good news of the reSurrection as an event heralding the Kingdom for ali men and ail things, whereas on the other it calls ail men and ail things to reexamine themselves in the light of the Kingdom which is not yet here. ln other words, the Church lays bare the distance which exists between the established order of things and the coming Kingdom which is the future of every past and every present. Fortunately for



the health of the Church, it is also cailed upon to lay bare its own distance from the Kingdom. The resmTection is the basis of the Church's prophetical mode of presence in the world both in criticism of the world and of its own !ife. Because the Church is a reality created by and for the future Kingdom, its service to that Kingdom requires a critical stance in respect to its own tendencies to become a self-interested power in the world. The proclamation of the Kingdom to the world calls into question both the one who proclaims and the one to whom the proclamation is made. Both are revealed in their essential limitation and provisionality when juxtaposed with the Kingdom which is to come. Again, the Church is not permitted to glory in itself because it has been commissioned by the resurrection-event to proclaim and celebrate the good news among the nations. The Church is not commissioned to proclaim itself as the definitive community of God's love, but rather is elected to point ahead to the Kingdom which alone is definitive. The Kingdom defines the present limits and the future possibilities of both .the¡ Church and the world. Both have received in the resurrection the good news of the Kingdom for judgment as weil as for consolation. The Church brings judgment upon itself and the world by challenging the supposed definitiveness of the present state of affairs. Precisely because the Kingdom is not yet here, every present stands refuted in its claim to be the Kingdom. Every present inevitably stands in relation to the coming Kingdom as the ultimate future of eve1y present, but no present is already the Kingdom, the final reign of God over al! the nations and over al! things. The Kingdom as heralded in the resurrection and procla.imed by the Church thus summons every present away from itself, either to its own fulfillment or its own condemnation in the future. The Church in its proclamation brings two realities together-the already existing order of things with its determinisms and possibilities and the not yet existing Kingdom which has been promised. In this act of juxtaposition the inadequation and incongruity of the pre<:<mt and the future are revealed and judgment is rendered. The times are indeed discovered to be out of joint in relation to their final reconciliation and healing. Every division is called into question by the coming community; every form of fragmentariness



is called into question by 'the wholeness which lies ahead; everywar is called into question by the predestined peace of God's Kingdom. FOR THE SAKE OF REPENTANCE

The prophetical presence of the Kingdom through the Church's proclamation is never merely for the sake of destruction. The Church proclaims the Kingdom for the sake of repentance, for the sake of change. The pretensions of the present are questioned for the sake of openness towards the future. The presence of the Kingdom in judgment exposes our ineluctable and inexplicable implication in the mystery of evil, but always for the sake of redemption. The good news of the Kingdom has gone out to ali the nations and to ali things, summoning them ali to judgment and to salvation hy calling them ali radically into question. None are spared because ali are summoned. Ail are revealed in their sin because ali are elected to salvation. No present is left standing, ail are relativized by and for the Kingdom. The Church's mis:sionary mode of presence inevitably includes a prophetical mode of presence, bath modes being rooted in and emerging from the Church's relation to the Kingdom as this is brought to light by the resurrection. If the message of God's Kingdom brings judgment on ail through the revelation of the disparity between the present and the future, it also brings consolation and hope. The prophet consoles as weil as criticizes, and the criticism as weil as the consolation stem from the same fundamental vision of the future as the coming reign of God. If the Kingdom deprives the present of its claim to absolute meaning, it does not thereby deprive the present of meaning altogether. The present is set . on pilgrimage by the Kingdom; it is given its identity in relation to the Kingdom which is not yet here. The present is given ultimate meaning by the Kingdom even if it is divested of absolute meaning here and now. The Kingdom not only relativizes the goodness of the present, but also the evil of the present. Both become provisional in face of the goodnes:s of God's reign. The inscrutable mystery of evil in human affairs is bracketed about by the Kingdom with a p!'O tempore character. The victory over evil which has already been achieved in



the !ife and resurrection of Jesus constitutes a proleptic and representative victory on behalf of ali things. The Kingdom as the ultimate future of ali pasts and presents brings meaning and consolation to ali pasts and presents. The mystery of evil is left standing in re but is cancelled out in spe. The prophetical mode of the Church's presence in the world makes the Kingdom of God's grace and redemptive love present within history as both judgment and consolation, calling the old into question at the same time that it promises the new. The Church which is sent out to ali the nations and to ali things everywhere in the missionary mode of presence, is constituted in the prophetical mode of presence the revealer of the incongruity between the present of the old and the future of the new. The Church which on the one hand reveals the universality of God's resurrection purposes, on the other hand serves as the instrument of universal judgment and universal hope. In both modes of presence the Church itself stands under the Kingdom to which it is summoned and by which it is continually questioned. THE CONSTf!UCTIVE MODE OF PRESENCE

The Kingdom is God's gracious reign over his creatures, a reign given by God himself. And yet the Kingdom can never be established apart from man's responsibility. The Kingdom which is yet to come also cornes now into the present for judgment and consolation, summoning to decision in faith and responsibility in love. The Kingdom which cornes upon man in judgment intends repentance. The Kingdom which cornes upon man in consolation intends hope. The Kingdom intends chance within history wherever it appears. The world which is judged in opposition to the Kingdom is called to conversion. The world which is j udged as pl"Ovision&l in relation to the K ingdom is ¡ called to doser correspondence to the pattern of the Kingdom. The Church's mission&ry mode of presence to ali things leads not only to a prophetical mode of • presence, but a Iso to a constructive mode of presence. The community which preaches the coming Kingdom promised in the resurrection must also practice it within history. The coming humanity of the future Kingdom must be anticipated, however inadequately, within the limitations and fragmentariness of the present.



The message of the Kingdom as a message of judgment leading to repentance and of consolation leading to hope is not a message fitted out for a quietism of grace. The transcendence. of the Kingdom as God's active reign over his creatures does not entai! a posture of passivity on the part of man. Man is indeed awaiting the coming Kingdom, but he awaits it in active and constructive hope because his present has been shawn by the resurrection of Jesus to be both unfulfilled and unredeemed. The Kingdom as ground of meaning and as pattern of !ife has created by its very futurity a context in which constructive activity becomes possible for man. No historical present constitutes a utopian realization once and for ali of the Kingdom's promise, but any historical present can become the anticipatory realization of the Kingdom's promise here and now. Because the Church's constructive mode of presence in the world is qualified by a fundamental missionary mode of presence for ali things, it is clear that the Church can never be concerned simply with the conversion and fulfillment of isolated individuals. The thrust of the Church's constructive presence is social and collective because it is all-encompassing and universai. The community which the Kingdom will bring about is in ali-inclusive community and it is only within such ali-inclusive community that the humanity of man can be realized. Always and everywhere man lives with others and these others must come under the reign of God with him. All-embracing unity is the horizon which the Kingdom has established for the Church's constructive and reconstructive presence and activity in the world. The Church's constructive presence is essentially a presence overcoming division on the one hand and building community on the other. The antagonisms of the present have been revealed in their provisionality by the resurrection, which has ,(estroyed the offensive wall existing between Jew and Gentile. male and female, slave and freeman. Ali have been called together and ali existing social, economie, and political patterns which reftect the former divisions belong to a superannuated order of man's. making. God has made a new thing for the future and this new thing has become normative for the reorganization of historical life. No community which excludes others is yet the Kingdom which includes everyone. Only corn-



munities open to other communities reflect in history the dawning of the Kingdom which embraces all communities. Only communities which construct in the interests of other communities reflect anticipatorily the community of communities which is God's final construction. THE CREDIBILITY GAP

The various modes of presence.of the Church in the world coinhere. In fact something like the traditional doctrine of the .circumincession or perichoresis of the divine persons can be seen to operate ecclesiologically. The universal missionary presence of the Church reflects the Father's all-encompassing creative presence, the Father's intent that !ife prosper everywhere and come to fruition. The uni versai prophetical presence . of the Church reflects the Logos' all-pervasive revelatory presence in judgment and consolation. The universal constructive presence of the Church reflects the Spirit's all-permeating unitive presence in love. These three are one and inseparable even if they are distinguishable. They rnutually inhere and interdepend. ¡ A Church that considers itself to be a narrow c.ommunity of and for the elect will not only bear within itself an inadequate missionary consciousness but will also show itself to be ineffective in its revelatory and constructive functions in the world. A Church which ties itself too closely to a particular culture or people by refusing to criticize it in the light of the Kingdom will also show itself to be ineffective in its missionary and constructive functions. A Church which is indifferent to the here and now economie, political, and social transformations of the existing status quo in the direction of God's coming community will also show itself to be ineffective in its missionary and prophetical functions: The Church may sin against the Father, the Son, or the Spirit, but in doing so it sins against all three together. In sinning against the Father, the Son, and the Spirit the Church sins against the Kingdom which it exists to serve and promote. Stt¡angely enough, it is this very sin against the Kingdom of the Father, Son, and Spirit which makes the Church incredible. The Church's !ife is essentially that of a witness, a witness which points toward the future through anticipatory commu-



nity existence in and for the whole. A Church which sins before heaven also sins before the world. The resurrection of Jesus from the dead mandates both the Church's rel.ationship as the Kingdom and to the world. Infidelity to the resurrection as the revelation of God's uni versai salvation purpose is infidelity to the world called to the Kingdom. ÛNE COMMANDMENT

The Church has been given one commandment for her wellbeing: "Seek first the Kingdom of God and his justice, and ali. these things shall be given y ou besides" (Mt. 6:33). When the Church seeks the Kingdom she does not become absent to the world in an attitude of serene otherworldliness. On the contrary, when the Church seeks the Kingdom she becomes · authentically present in the world for the purposes of the Kingdom and for the sake of the world, the two belonging inseparably together. A Church which loves the world in its totality loves the Kingdom, for the latter is the authentic, irrevocable, and divinely given future of the former. The only proviso the Church stands under in its love for the world is that the Church must love the world in relation to the coming · Kingdom. The Church will rightly refuse to affirm the world uncritically in its present fonn, but it must affirm the world as it tends toward its transformation into the Kingdom. The Church's !ife is given to it and governed by the future Kingdom as this has been promised in the resurrection of Jesus. The Church's self-understanding is detennined by the Kingdom as this has been promised in the resurrection of Jesus. The Church's modes of presence in the world are grounded in the Kingdom as this has been promised in the resurrection of Jesus. The Church's !ife is, in short, suspended between the promise given in the resurrection and the redemption of that promise in the Kingdom. The Church's retrospective memory of the resurrection exists as the ground of its pi·ospective hope for the Kingdom. The Church is not its own man as it were, for it belongs to another who has given it to the world for better or for worse.

Robert L. Faricy, S.J.

The Volunlarist Tradition in Catholic Theo/ogy

The voluntarist tradition is based on the idea of the primacy of the wiU--"doing the truth" rather than "knowing the truth."

In the history of Catholic thought in the Western Church since the beginning of the Middle Ages, there are two general traditions which can be designated as the "intellectualist" tradition and the "voluntarist" tradition. The intellectualist tradition is based on the idea of the primacy of the intellect, and its highest values are the intellectual values: knowledge, truth, contemplation. It is represented by the whole broad spectrum of Thomist philosophers and theologians. Bernard Lonergan and Karl Rahner are two outstanding contemporary figures in the intellectualist tradition. For this tradition, man is primarily an intellectual being. For the voluntarist tradition, on the other hand, man is primarily a choosing and loving being; the voluntarist tradition is based on the idea of the 301



primacy of the will. Its highest values are love, freedom, constructive action. Medieval representatives of the voluntarist tradition are Bonaventure, John Duns Scotus, and the Franciscan tradition as a who le; a modern representative is Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. In the western Catholic Church, the intellectualist tradition has dominated heavily, partly through tlie dominance of Thomist philosophy and theology and partly through the dominance of a Latin culture strongly intellectualist in orientation. After the dea th of Scotus, the voluntarist stream in Catholic thought became a trickle, although today American Catholics are rediscovering it, transformed, in ,the pragmatism of ¡Pierce, James, Dewey, and their followers. Even though often suspect in modern Catholicism, the voluntarist tradition is authentically Catholic. These two traditions, the intellectualist and the voluntarist, are best seen and compared in medieval theology. Not only are both traditions strong and healthy in the Middle Ages, but the very limitations of the medieval worldview make the frame of reference comparatively small and the comparison that much easieL THE MEDIEVAL UN!VERSE

The medieval worldview is that of a world that is an ordered and harmonious universe, a cosmos. The world is ordered horizontally in history into six or seven ages, and it is ordered vertically according to grades of being: plants, animais, men, angels, God. It is a static cosmos; it has no particular direction. There is no significant notion of progress, of evolution, of the world as developmental. Change is a generally negative idea; changeableness means imperfection, and change means deterioration. Man begins to die as soon as he is born. Because of this Jack of historical dimension, the medieval worldview does not give important weight to tradition. Medieval man Jacks a devĂŠloped sense of tradition; and so he Jacks, as weil, a strong sense of community. Given this framework and limitee! by it, the medieval mind asks the question: what is man's norizon, to what end or future is man directed? And since medieval man is Christian,



the question is a theological one: what is the Christian horizon? .Furthermore, within the medieval worldview the only meaningful future must be a persona! future (because o! the Jack of a strong sense of community) and an other-worldly future (not because this world is somehow evil, but because it is static, has no significant future). Once Alexander of Hales has made "faith seeking understanding" the definition of theology, and once Peter Lombard's Sentences has become the standard theological text and r.eference work, scholasticism cornes into maturity, and the question now is : what is man in the light of divine revelation? That is, what is man in the light of the persona! other-worldly future which God has revealed to him as the destiny to which God has ca lied him? What is human nature in the lig!�t of its supernatural destiny? This, of course,_ is the nature-supernature problematic that has characterized western Catholic theology right up .to the present time. ¡ BONAVENTURE AND SCOTUS

For Bonaventure, man is above ali a creature who is open to Infinite Love; he is made for God, for the love that is from God and that he can give to God. Man is essentially open to the future, and this openness of Infinite Love is fulfilled on earth in prayer, and in heaven in ultimate loving union with God. Bonaventure stresses prayer in the !ife of the Christian not because of sorne principle of "ftight from the world," but because he sees the Christian horizon as persona! and other-worldly and because he sees man as fulfi.lled by lovt>-and ultimately by the love of God. Theology, for Bonaventure, is mainly affective and practical. It is speculative, but its speculation is directed to awakening the . affections-for man is fulfilled by love. And theology is practical because it is ordered to helping people to be better Christi ans. John Duns Scotus is in the same tradition, and is the last great light of Franciscan theology. He died while still young, left his writings in disorder, and lives today mainly in the minds of Catholic seminarians to whom he is briefty pre- ¡ sented as an adversary to be refuted by neo-Thomist argn'



mentation. As for Bonaventure, theology for Scotus is affective and practical rathe1' than speculative and abstract. Theology is a science only in the sense of scientm, a form of knowledge. The purpose of theology is to help man to love God. Reason, for Scotus, has great value; but the truth of reason is best expressed in loving and committed action. Man is not primarily a reasoning being, but an acting, loving, choos.ing ,being; and the supreme human value is freedom. Scotus's theology is Christocentric; everything is created in Christ and ordered to him for its fulfillment. God's entire plan is built around Christ. What does this mean in terms of nature and grace? Nature is, "by its very nature," ordered to the supernatural, and this ordering of nature is primarily the ·ordering of the person to greater love of God (and of others in God). Man is by his nature open to God's love, although God's love is no Jess a gift for that. SCOTUS AND AQUINAS

A clear idea of the voluntarist tradition in the Middle Ages, when it was at its strongest in the Western Church, can be had by means of a comparison of the two · greatest Catholic representatives of the voluntarist and the intellectualist traditions, John Duns Scotus and Thomas Aquinas. For both, theology is the study of man in the light of divine revelation; but they have different ideas of hu man nature, and so they have different theologies with different purposes. For Thomas, who holds the primacy of the intellect in human nature, theology is ordered principally to the acquisition of speculative truth. For Scotus, in accord with his doctrine of the primacy of the will, the pm·pose of theology is, above . ali, right willing, correct conduct. For Thomas, man has two spiritual faculties or powers: intellect and will; these two are really distinct. The will, therefore, is a blind faculty and follows the intellect. The will adherès to whatever the intellect presents to it as good, and the will resista or move away from whatever the intellect presents to it as to be resisted or moved away from. This means that man is primarily intellectual, primarily a knowing, thinking, reasoning, being. And it is because he is an intel-




lectual being that he is a free, choosing, loving one. Since the intellect can simultaneously entertain severa! options, possibibilities, courses of action, it can present this to be done rather than that; and so the will can choose this rather than that. Because of the primacy of the intellect, the highest human value is truth, and man's highest activity is the contemplation of truth. For Scotus, on the other hand, there is no real distinc. tion between intellect and will. Man is primarily a dynamic, tending being that wills, chooses, loves. Man's will is intuitive, and directs his knowing. Man is a knowing and reasoning creature, but primarily he is a creature who wills and whose highest activity is not contempla:tion but love. ("Duns Scotus' Voluntarism," John Duns Scotu.~. 1265-1965; G. Sanchez, "Reflections on John Duns Scotus' Approach to Theology," PhilippianŒ SŒcra, 2, 1967.) This basic difference in their conceptions of human ·nature leads Aquinas and Scotus to different ideas of man's destiny. For Thomas,. man's innate tendency to eternal !ife is in terms of his intellect; man is ordered through his intellect to the beatifie vision. Man's nature is ordered to the ultimate grace of intellectual vision of God as he is in himself-and therefore to love of God, a loving through knowing. Man's ultimate future, then, is the eternal contemplation of the divine essence in the beatifie vision. For Scotus, man's iimate tendency · to eternal !ife is in terms of the natural desire of his whole nature considered as dynamic and centered in the will. Man, by his very (pre-conscious) nature strives for "wholeness," for completeness, for fulfillment. For Scotus as for Thomas, man's desire exceeds his grasp ; he is ordered to a destiny that is above his nature to attain. But, whereas for Thomas it is human nature insofar as it is intellectual that is fulfilled in the beatifie vision, for Scotus man's nature is completed, brought to fullness, through a primarily loving union with God. Scotus furthermore understands the ultimate wholeness and fulfillment of human nature to be found in Christ. Christ possesses human nature in its absolute fullness. From the point of view of the human species, man's nature is completed in Christ-"-for only the possession of an infinite love can fui-



fiil man's nature. This means that Christ is the ideal in union with whom, now inchoatively and later fuily, each man finds his own fulfiilment, the fulfillment of his own ·persona) nature-as-desire. Ail of human nature, therefore, and through man ail of nature, is ordered to Christ. For Scotus, man is ordered to his ultimate future, eternal life, through his will, through his capacity for love, and he is ordered through the very depths of his nature to union with God through being in Christ. Man's ultimate future is loving union with God in Christ. This is why Scotus understands the Incarnation as the keystone of ail reality. The whole cosmos depends on the Incarnation for its very existence. This is the meaning of the Scotist teaching that Christ is "first in God's intention." God's first intention, so to speak, is the risen Christ; in arder to have the risen Christ God needed to create mankind; but in arder to create mankind he needed to create the whole cosmos. · So it is not the Incarnation that presupposes the cosmos, but rather the cosmos that presupposes the Incarnation. Thomas, on the other hand, sees the Incarnation as primarily remediai of sin. The Incarnation was mainly for the purpose of restoring what was !ost in the fail of Adam. At one time, theologians asked themselves the question: "Would Christ have come if Adam had not failen ?" The Thomist answer is: "Probably not." The Scotist answer, of course, is "Y es," for Christ is the presupposition, the a p1·iori of ali creation. In line with their views on other theological matters, Thomas understands God chiefly as Infinite Being and Scotus understands God as Infinite Love. For, ultimately, their theological understandings of God, and of Christ, and of creation and redemption, depend on their theological understandings of man, depend on the two theological anthropologies. THE WILL TRADITION IN AMERICAN THEOLOGY

The theology of John Duns Scotus and ail medieval Franciscan theology was for its own time, as real theology always is. It is not for our times, anymore than Thomism is for our times. Theology interpretes the data of divine revelation in



the categories of contemporary experience, not in the terms of sorne past experience: No matter how great the theological synthesis of St. Thomas and no matter how brilliant the synthesis of Scotus, both are theologies that have been creatâ‚Źd within the framework of a medieval experience. Theology for today must be theology worked out within the reference frame of contemporary experience. Nevertheless, while needing to be contemporary, theology must be traditional: it must be in contact with tradition, must be theology in the present and aimed at the future but coming out of the past. The fact is that there are many Iike elements in American experience and in the theology of Scotus, of the Franciscan order, and in general in the. whole tradition of Catholic theology that has stressed the primacy of the will. The most obvious of these elements is a certain voluntarism, an emphasis on the will. This stress in the United States sometimes goes so far as to become an anti-intellectualism, or a sort of modern Pelagianism, or in sorne cases an almost blind commitment to a cause. Another element common to the will tradition of Catholic theology and to American experience is pragmatism. This is not to say that the pragmatism of William James and John Dewey is the same as the "pragmatism" of Scotus or of other Catholic theologians. But it is to say that there is a whole Catholic theological tradition that stresses "doing the truth" rather than "knowing the truth." This tradition is the voluntarist tradition in Catholic theology, and it goes with an orientation toward action rather than toward contemplation. And this too seems .to be typically American; the American is not typically a contemplative. He is a man of action. He thinks of himself not so much as one who knows what is right but is one who does the right thing, who does what he knows is right, who follows his conscience. Again, the emphasis on freedom as the highest human value in so much of the theology of the voluntarist tradition is in keeping with contemporary American experience. The freedom to determine one's own choices and one's own course, the freedom of self determination, is the heart of the freedom that is strèssed in the ¡,;,ill tradition in theology. This freedom of self determination is what Americans generally mean when they speak of freedom.



Especially important for American Christians today is the spirit of the will tradition in theology with regard to man's ¡ relationship with God. Among Catholics, the dominance for so long of the Thomist intellectualist tradition has tended to distort our idea of man's relation to God. It is true that the voluntarist tradition, when dominant, can lead to fideism and to false piety. But the intellectualist tradition, when it dominates to the point of obscuring the voluntarist tradition, tends to reduce man's relation to God to an intellectual relation. In our own time, this has had a remarkably disastrous effect on the spirit and practice of prayer. It has dried up man's relation to God at its most intense, in _prayer, for it has tended to redu ce prayer to thinking, conceptualizing; it has tended to reduce prayer to solitary reflection. The idea of prayer as a loving interpersonal relationship with God in Christ has suffered greatly. The emotions have been thought to be unimportant in prayer. Once prayer and love are separated, once prayer is reduced to solitary reflection, the result is inevitable. Prayer will be rejected as feudal, fruitless, and generally inhuman. Among Catholics today, even arnong many priests and sisters, prayer is often de-emphasized and sometimes even said to be impossible. There are sorne who think that what used to be meant by prayer was simply talking to oneself, and that real prayer is communicating with other persons in a Christian way"horizontal prayer" as opposed to the old-fashioned "vertical" prayer. There are many who try to find Christ in others without finding Christ in hiinself. This is heartbreaking and pathetic. It is a result of a Catholic tradition that has, in its over-conceptualizing and its insistence on the intellect against the will, dried up man's relation to God as loving and prayerful. The ultimate result of this, the result of not taking God seriously as persona!, is the depersonalization of the Christian. What is needd is a return, not to the voluntarist theology of earlier generations, but a return to the spirit of that theology, a return to proper stress on the importance of prayer, the importance of love, and on the dignity and the freedom of the individual Christian.


Gerard M. Fourez, S.J.

The Priesllzood in Modern Society

Vital changes in modern society have reper,cussions on owr understanding of H oly Orders.

If you follow the press it is not difficult to realize that the image of the priesthood in the modern world is in question. A significant example is Monsignor Ivan Illich's article on "The Vanishing Clergyman," in the June, 1967 issue of Critic. In light of both sociological analysis and common sense he discovers a deep change in the role of the priest and the disappearance of what can be called "priestly caste." His study is certainly convincing but it leaves the reader in suspense .... It is not enough just to show what is happening and the direction in which things are heading; we want also to understand the meaning of this .evolution of the priest's role. With what in the past does it bear continuity? Where are its points of departure? At what point is traditional legacy bypassed and why? It is essential to know that it is the same loyalty to Christ which led our predecessors to build present priestly structures which now invites us to change them. Perhaps this hits the nail on the head ... Discussion had 309



been long and hard during a workshop. The question was: "What is the role of the scientific priest?" At a break a priest of the Oriental Rite who had been silent until then said, "The question seenĂŽs to revolve around the fact that the Church tirst ordains priests. Once the Church has them ordained she has to determine which work they will accomplish in the community. In the Oriental churches we reverse the approach to the problem. When we have a deacon who demonstrates by his !ife and his work that he is able to serve as a priest, we ordain him." Let us not go into the details of applying this principle just now: the reversai of the approach to the problem is enough to make us think .... Is there not a real insight in this view of the sacramental priesthood? This is what we are going to examine. We will briefly recall severa! essential traits to be considered in arder to understand the sacrament of Roly Orders. Next, we will concentrate on a particular point-the theology of the "priestly character." We will try to show how renewal of this theology is necessary and leads naturally to the key to a number of today's seething questions. THE THEOLOGY OF PRIESTHOOD

There is only one priesthood-that of Jesus Christ. He is the only priest--always and forever. It is he who gathers together the dispersed People of God, leads them to the Father, teaches them the Word of !ife and sends them the Roly Spirit which enables them to worship in Spirit and truth. By this action he crea tes a priestly people, a holy nation: the Church. Reunited in him, the true worshippers of the Father, ali Christians, form a "royal priesthood," not offering external sacrifices, but themselves-living offerings-efficient witnesses to the presence of a loving God. But this priesthood of the People of God is not an individual reality. lt is a communal participation in the priesthood of Christ. The People of God must express these two aspectsparticipation and community. To be a community the People of God structures itself as such. There is then place for a special function-that of leader, of pastor. But this leadership, according to Christs' own words must be different from



that known in the "world" still "outside" the community renewed by the coming of the Spirit: "Y ou know that among the pagans their so-caller rulers lord it over them, and their great men make their authority felt. This is not to happen among you. No; anyone who wants to become great among you must be your servant, and anyone who wants to be first among you must be slave to ali." Corresponding to such an attitude is the service of humble leadership. It is by this type of leadership or ministry that the Church is able to develop herself. Properly speaking, Holy Orders is the sacrament which proclaims this ecclesiastical function as an efficient sign of Christ's love reuniting his Church. Holy Orders can be called the sacrament of service through leadership. THE


The visible reality of this leadership is the efficient sacramental sign of Christ's action; in . other words Christ becornes really visible in the Christian communify in priestly ¡leadership. Moreover, since this leadership is not an individual priviledge but an ecclesial function, it is the Church who confers it: the sacrament of Holy Orders is an ordination in view of service. Ordination manifests the sacramental leadership which the new priest will exercise. lt is essential to recognize this because a person has no right to impose leadership by himself even if he exercises it in service to the community: ' a person must receive leadership (cf. Heb. 5:4). But ordination, besides being a sign effectively conferring Christian learedship has also another fundamental role: it indicates the source of ali ministry. It must show the community that the ministerial priesthood is a participation in the unique priesthood of Christ. If the community, of itself, were self-sufficient, designating its leader would be important but. it would depend only on the community-this designation would not be the object of a sacramental act. Such an act has meaning .only when what does happen has a transcendental dimension. So, the priest ordained for the ministry of the community shows that the worship--the unity of the community-is a gift of God. In that sense the sacrament of functional priesthood can establish the community in giving it visible structure.



Once he is ordained by the Church, the priest becomes essentially central to its unity: without him community is no longer constituted. This is why Holy Orders is a sacrament; the visible and efficient sign of Christ constituting the ecclesial community. The Church needs the priest to manifest herself fully. On one hand, the faithful (united and building the kingdom of God on earth) show the concrete, incarnate reality of God's work. On the other hand, the gathering of the comniunity around an ordained minister shows the priority of God's call in relation to man's response. The community receives the institutional unity which makes it a kingly people from the sacrament of Holy Orders. Precisely, apostolic succession shows that the unity of the ecclesial community has its origin in Christ who was sent to assemble the dispersed children of God. So, the functional priesthood (to be distinguished from Christ's priesthood and from that of the Christian community) is the sacrament of leadership in serving the community and ftows finally from the unique leadership of Christ which the priest manifesta. THE IMPORTANCE OF CHARISM

But that is not ail; it is also necessary that ordination be a sacrament, i.e., a sign. For a sacrament to be fruitful or even to be merely valid it must accurately communicate what it signifies. If it does not, the sacrament is only valid juri. dically and does not nourish people. What visible element is necessary for the fruitfulness of ordination? The Church's tradition is clear-whoever is to be ordained must be capable of leadership, of service. It is not enough that he have good will, that he be "edifying," he must be capable of animating the Christian community. This should imply that ordination ¡would not be considere<! at the end of a specialized formation but after a persan had exercised the charism of leadership (which charism might happen to be the result of good formation). This brings to mind the thinking of the Oriental priestthat ordination should follow rather than precede a man's exercise of leadership in uniting the comrriunity and helping it to build the kingdom.



To avoid arnbiguity, it should be noted that the charism of leadership itself is not "complete" before ordination. It is not enough to have someone offer himself for the ministry, to have the necessary aptitude, even to be recognized as an animator; it is necessary that his leadership be recognized by the Church and be of Church. Ordination is just the official and effective act in which the community confers leadership on • someone whose ability is already recognized. The leadersship that the Church recognizes is the same as that which Christ himself recognizes-in other words: ordination is a sacrament! But what kind of service should the priesthood rend er? Theological thinking has classified it in three categories: liturgical, prophetie and kingly. The kingly expresses, essentially, leadership in action-the capacity to unify and direct the community. Prophetically, the priest exercises the charism of proclaiming the word of God to the community and showing how it is applied concretely in real !ife situations. The litur. gical function proper is easy to define, still we should realize that to lead the community in prayer means much more than performing a certain number of rites. It is good to note that tradition has never limited itself by speaking uniquely of the cultic role; varions priestly roles were developed. These reflections seem to produce a coherent enough image of priesthood, and in particular, functional priesthood. However, something else enters the picture. It is a concrete fact that in the Church priests do not seem simply to be ordained Christians fulfilling a particular function but they seem rather to be very special individuals who are given privileges and select tasks. Moreover the theology of the priesthood affirms that ordination confers a character which marks the recipient in a defini te manner and in fact makes him a priest forever. It seems that we are far from a purely functional conception of priesthood. LEADERSHIP AND DIFFERENT CULTURES

Before direct! y attacking the problem we just mentioned we must consider the relationship between the varions forms



that leadership and government take in different societies: this will indicate what forms of leadership can be meaningful as a basis for the sacrament of Roly Orders in each culture. We will distinguish two types of culture--differentiated and uniform. This classification corresponds more or Jess to what sociologists cali secondary and primary or industrial and agrarian societies. In the first case stratification is defined by a person's function. These functions demand an impressive degree of training and competence. Such is the case in modern society. In the second type of society the simplicity and similarity of roles make other criteria necessary for stratification and differentiation. Competence is not enough to qualify sorneone for a job: there wou id be too many applicants. That the rector of the college of Avila was not yet twenty-four years old when he counseled St. Teresa goes to show that these roles which we consider so important did not demand a long specialized formation. Consequently, the differentiation of roles occurred according to natural criteria and were generally sealed by a deeper authority; often a religious one: power was based on divine law or at !east on na tura! law; caste was an integral part of the religious system and violation of the social rule.s ¡ was considered as a blasphemy, etc. Finally to insure overall stability, classifications were made permanent: "An aristocrat is noble forever." Notice that such st.-atification is not as anti-democratic as an anachronistic viewpoint might project it: it answers a real need and is a vital function of a pre-industrial society. Exercise of initiative and individual rights is narrowly confined by economies and social restraints. Consequently the social system must possess enough rigidity to discourage most initiative which would in the long run threaten the "common good." "Common good" then, practically and for them with sorne reason, became identified with the status quo. THE "PRIESTLY CHARACTER" AND CULTURES

We seem to have gotten away from the subject." It only seems this way. Actually, if the priesthood is, as we have said, the sacrament of leadership and service, it defines a role for itself in the society which is the Church. This role



will usually be distinguished from other roles by criteria which depend on the particular culture in which the Church is located. ln other words the theology of this priestly character must vary from one culture to another . What defines the function of the priesthood is, as we have shown, a relationship and a role in rapport with the Christian community: the priest is the one who exercises leadership in service to the community. To define such a role in static societies, two functional methods are possible-the first consista in choosing a priestly family from among the people-this was the solution used by the Jewish people. The second consists in creating a special group--a sort of clerical caste to which everyone would be eligible for admittance. But in this perspective if a certain amount of stability ls desired in the institution, entrance into the group must be lilke a new birthit confers on a new. member of the priestly caste a character which marks him permanently and indelibly. If such was not the case, the priest would Jack a title to leadership similar to. those in authority in the particular society of which he is a member. To realize that one has only to think of how the clergy of medieval France would have had any leadership without "priestly character." Because the priesthood is a sacrament and therefore a sign, it needs to use symbolism proper to the particular culture to which it must be significant. The theology itself had to speak of a "priestly character" which was conferred by anointing. So it signified the reality and efficiency of the priest's functional role. However, even in the most static societies a certain consideration of competence has always had its place; classification according to two sociological types is more systematic than actual. N ow, it is easy to imagine that in a differentiated society the situation will be altogether different-the role and classification of persons in the society will not be determined by birth or by a "character" "imprinted" in the personality but by a capacity to fulfill a function and the recognition of this capacity by society. The function itself !oses its global character and takes varions aspects according to a certain number of secondary functions: modern society lives under the standard of specialization .





In this perspective one sees a new meaning to ordination and a renewed theology of priesthood: thinking which expressed itself in "natural" categories now uses social ones. But before we turn to this new image of the reality of functional priesthood, we will study the scope of sorne of the affirmations of traditional theology in the light shed by the discovery of their sociological context. THEOLOGICAL AFFIRMATIONS

Understanding the sociological context gives us the ability to better discern what in theological affirmation depends on the profound truths asserted and what is simply derived from the symbols used to .express these truths. Renee, in the case that interests us, "priestly character," we must examine ali the implications which flows from the conception of a "character imprinted by Holy Orders." We must see if they issue from the expressions given to priestly function by a given culture or if they are derived from the reality of what priesthood is.

For example, the permanence of the sacrament: in the fact of a theology of "character" permanence is easily justified; everyone knows that a mark once imprinted, always remains, like a brand. But, when one becomes aware that the word "character" receives its meaning by the determination of a social relationship in the Christian community-the problem is no longer simple. The question which now imposes itself is whether or not this type of relationship in community implies a permanency of priesthood and if so, in what way? In this process the theology deepens itself and confronts more directly the meaning of sacerdotal function. We will come to that latet". We know only that when we have replaced theology in its sociological context, we are forced to re-examine the teaching of the tradition to see what is to be modified to have meaning in the new cultural contexts. The job will be particularly difficult when sorne correlation between the cultural context and theological affirmation is patent. To go back to the example of the permanence of the priesthood, it is easy to see that in a culture where ali the important social positions are for !ife, it will be difficult culturally even



to imagine a temporal-y priesthood. However in a society where the age of retiring is universal and where the more essential functions are performed only for a limited time the question poses itself altogether differently. Nevertheless, it is necessary to be careful not to jump to conclusions too quickly. There can be-and we shall see--<>ther reasons which confhm the petmanency of priesthood, but in a new light and with new meaning. At any rate we will have a renewed insight into the "permanency" of priesthood. We will now try to determine what direction to take to get the theological renewal of the "priestly character." THE CHARISM OF LEADERSHIP

If we really want the priesthood to effect what it signifies the sign of the sacrament must be real. In modern society a priest must be a real leader in the service of the community. This leadership may be exercised in a particular domain (we live, do we not, in a society of differentiated roles ?) , but it must be real. lt is not necessary for every priest to be a theologian (most priests never have been), a good confessor, a good preacher, a good anima.tor or spiritual counsellor, but it is necessary that he is proficient in at !east one of these functions of leadership. Is not this what Ignatius had in mind when he said that each Jesuit should be a specialist in at !east one field? Leadership may be acquired by a fotmation, theological or otherwise, or it could emanate simply from the personality and charism of certain Christians. But, by ali means, it should be real. It is not enough to know by heart ali the heresies of the Fourth Century to have knowledge useful to the community. However, in modern society leadership usually demands a certain intellectual education-at !east sufficient to recognize its limitations and, when needed, to refer people who seek help to more competent persons. Our culture more and more demands continuous education and re-education such as workshops and institutes to confront the complexity of ever new problems. The charism of leadership in service to the community could come from a special formation which, together with a life



really impregnated with Christ, could render certain Christians real pastors. But it could also corne about more sirnply. Who does not know sorne Christians who have a gift for encouraging others, for counselling, for helping people ta pray, who have a knack for indicating what needs to be done, who can anirnate the cornmunity? When such a persan appears among Christians why cannat ordination to the priesthood be justified? Why could not the actual sign, by the intervention of the Church, becorne a sacrament? Since these Christians are de facto leaders of the community, why not "perfect" this charism by ordination? From this, many present day problems are seen in a new light. First, the famous question of the job of the priest. It is clear on the one .hand that' in a classical society the setting apart of a clerical caste was practically necessary. There was no 'other system of leadership other than that corning from nobility or sorne "sacred orders." And, as it was difficult to distinguish the global social image of a persan from his role, the spiritual leadership of the priest could not be isolated from his social status. Consequently this status had to be cornpletely transformed by reason of his "priesthood." It was a sociological necessity. In our society, on the contrary, the charism of leadership is compatible with other raies and sornetirnes requires them. Every persan has indeed to fulfill a certain number of very specifie and distinct raies. Even more, to be at the service of the Christian community of workmen, scientists, doctors, etc. it is necessary somehow to be from their group; to have a certain job may ease the priest's acceptance as a rnember of the community. Often, also, a job will be necessary to prevent the image of the priest as a social parasite. The fact that sorne priests will have a secular occupation will not prevent others from being at the sĂŠrvice of the community full-time; they would in fact, simultaneously fulfill a certain numbee of roles ranging from social worker to sacristan. ROLES AND CHARACTERISTICS OF PRIESTHOOD

To recognize a man as a leader in community service it is necessary that his role be sufficiently¡ defined otherwise he



will fail in his function. But nothing is more difficult to define than leadership. Except for a certain number of specialĂŽsts whose functions require special training, the vocation to ordination should be discerned only after the explicit manifestation of charism. Sorne elements of discernments seem to be quite universal. As we have already said, the leader will have to have a college education and certainly a sufficient knowledge of Christian doctrine to enable him to act as the type leader he has to be. But everyone need not be trained as a specialist in theology: engineers, lawyers, union leaders who manifest the charism (which implies that they can think and reflect as Christians) can be good for the job. This brings to mind the actual situation of sorne parishes where one or another Christian or a Christian couple animate the whole community while the pastor, busy with organization, cornes only when a priest is really very necessary. Would it not have been better to have ordained the layman and made the priest a good deacon? .Lâ‚Źadership, especially in the charismatic sense of priesthood, presupposes a sensitivity to the problems of the community, availability and a certain commitment, a special !ife style-in other words, something by which the community can recognize the leadership at its service. Sorne priests could be considered part-time priests in a certain sense. But we do not accept the idea of part-time priests if part-time is to be understood in the sense that outside the moment they will be "necessary for the sacramental function" they would consider themselves and would be considered by others to be "simple laymen." According to such a vision, the sign of the sacrament would not be a true leadership with ali the human relationships implied. It would be a magical or juridical conception of priestly power. The priest would be someone who can act efficiently in a specifie domain because he has power, magical or juridical. The Christian concept is sacramental. That is to say, the priest really has the power signified by his functional and persona! roles. Being president of the Eucharistie assembly is certainly just one expressionprivileged without doubt-of leadership in service of the community. Teaching priests? ls it not obvious that among educators can be found sorne Christians able to animate and lead the



People of God? These should be ordained! But it is also true that sorne teaching priests who merely "teach" are hardly manifesting the charism leadership in the community. One could perhaps question the reason for their ordination. Y et we must be careful not to limit our understanding of the charism of leadership too much. As Teilhard, with his prophetie charism so weil indicates, the forms according to which the spirit acts cannot be determined in advance. The perspective we have indicated can perhaps also shed light on the question of clerical celibacy. On one hand the social context may help in understanding one of the reasons among others why the celibate clergy has triumphed in the western world: certainly celibacy helps to preserve a clerical caste, but on the other hand it is hard to understand why, when one relinquishes the vision of a clerical class and distinguishes the charism of leadership from that of celibacy for the kingdom, married people who clearly manifest charismatic leadership cannot be ordained. Space does not permit adequate development of this idea. THE PERMANENCY OF PRIESTHOOD

We have already mentioned the question of the permanency of the priesthood. To affirm that a priest is a priest forever, we have seen that it is not sufficient to invoke his priestly character. However, in view of ali that is implied in the commitment of a person to leadership of the Christian community, we are going to find it difficult to conceive that commitment as temporary. ¡ There are two kinds of human commitment: those which have for¡ their objective sorne limited project and those which address themselves to persons. The first ceases at the moment when the objective is realized. The second is similar to an open door: one can never predict to what or to whom the door will give access. When a person commits himself to another person that means first that they have encountered each other, perceived each other at the transcendental leve! with ali their qualities and defects, ali that they have and are, and that they are bound to each other "for !ife." That indicates that they are committed to each other in a certain availability which will




result in the fact that even if the circumstances of persona! evolution separate them a bond exista between them. This bond may be that of love, of care for the other, of hope in him and for him, or simply that of persona! hate. lt will not be possible to have a trivial or banal relationship: even indifference cannot enter into the relationship--it can! But this return to indifference will always appear as a regression, a negation of the persona! leve! which was attained. This regression signifies a refusai to love and to hope. It is no longer the indifference which reigns in the triviality of everyday relations, but resulta from a choice of a certain type of relationship, with the knowledge that it could have been possible to have another type. If our definition of a persona! commitment fita, a commitment conceived from the beginning as temporary and limited could not be considered as persona!. It would not address itaelf to the person at the persona! leve! but rather at sorne objective leve!; it would address itaelf more to the person's qualities than to the persan himself. The priestly commitment--that of leadership in serving the Christian community-must be truly persona! ; and becimse it à ddresses i~elf to a community it must be publicly so. Consequently, the priest does not put himself at the service of the Church for sorne limited goals, even if sorne of his goals may be_ specialized. The relationship must situate itaelf at a deeply persona! leve! and at that leve! it is difficult to conceive that someone will accept the care of the community for a limited time only. A true commitment between persons transcends limit&--we have already seen that; and unless being unfaithful and regressing in his Christian availability, a priest cannot retire simply to cultivate his garden. Whoever accepta the priestly ministry¡ commita himself to persona! availability to others. He must have the will and maturity to commit himself at that leve!. Such a commitment is deeply different from the one which accepta leadership for a limited project-like starting a group, for example. Consequently, it seems that the permanency of the priesthood is a way to express the persona! dimension of a commitment to serve the Christian community. However this availability does not mean that the priest will always be able to act as leader in the community. For



many reasons, from old age to persona! deficiency, including failure to adapt himself to changing circumstance-the priest may discover at a certain time that he is no longer able to respond to the needs of the community. Even more probably, through his own fault or not, he may begin to hinder the persona! fulfillment of the people he wants to serve. Then in fidelity to the care that he has for the community, by fidelity itself to his commitment ¡as priest, because he is commited to people-not to a task-he should give up the exercise of a function for which he is no longer adapted. This retirement can then be the pm¡est expression of leadership to the service of man: to be able to withdraw at times is not the ]east quality of leadership! In such cases, if age doesn't prohi~it him, the priest should consider fulfilling other roles in civil or ecclesiastical society. The withdrawal from the ministry in such circumstances should not appear as infidelity. The thing to which a priest must be faithful is the community of Christians that he serves in the Church. Because of the respect he has for people, to be faithful to them he must have the courage to refuse the functions for which he is no longer competent. Consequently, even though the human and Chl'istian commitments of the priest must be permanent (and in that sense priesthood is permanent) the functional aspect can be temporary. Moreover, to force priests by ali means to remain in the ministry is probably connected with a conception of priesthood as a clerical class. In a more modern perspective the retirement. from the ministry will probably take an enti rely different form than the one we now know. THE PRIESTHOOD OF WOMEN

Today, the question of the priesthood of women has obviously arisen. It seems clear that until the last century the social situation of women (always considered as a minor person) was such that it was normally unthinkable to consider her as a leader-normally, that is! We must not forget Elizabeth of England, Marie Therese of Austria, Cathrine of Russia. But now that sex is no longer an obstacle to the function of authority, govemment or teaching, these reasons for disregarding women for ordination are no longer valid. So, if a woman mani-




fests the charism of spiritual leadership, why not ordain her? One cannot contest the possibility of seeing this charism become apparent in women by saying thàt this would be contrary to feminine nature. This article will not analyse this objection. It seems to be based on a concept of the human person which is deterministic rather than existential. Let us only indicate a few points on that theme. "To be a woman" is partly a cultural concept. It evolves according to cultural, psychological and biological data. If our culture still accepts feminine leadership with difficulty, at !east it does not make it impossible, as can be verified in political !ife. For example, daily experience reveals that feminine leadership can be seen and is accepted: it can be seen in universities (woman professors), in business (women executives) ; and in other social sectors. Even in .the ecclesiastical milieu (qui te easily plagued by misogyny) the spiritual leadership of women is more and more accepted. They were at the Council ... finally! On the other hand the reason for denyü1g such roles to women frequently looks like a defense mechanism of a masculine society. Men seem too often unconsciously threatened in their privileges not to have their reasons suspected. On the one hand the. psychological reasons for blocking the ordination of women are disappearing; and on the other hand the participation of women in spiritual leadership is increasing. If these conjectures are correct, it is high time to ask ourselves if Christian communities should not recognize the charism of sorne women and "perfect" it by ordination. PRIESTS AND LA YMEN

Finally, last but not !east, this perspective puts a patticularly interesting new light on the relationship between clergy and laity. It can be good to note first sorne facts about this distinction between two classes of Christians. First--what is the basis for this distinction? It could be the existence of two · kinds of Christians-those who exercise an official function in the institutional Church-the clergy; and those who are not exercising an official function-laymen. This distinction, which is perfectly adequate and functional leads naturally, in a society with a static structure, to two



distinct castes among the People of God. Such an institutional structure is adequate in that particular kind of society, but if society begins to evolve into a structure with more differentiate roles, what will happen in the period of transition? Most likely the clerical caste will continue to exist on the basis of what it was in the past--that is, mainly according to its character of traditionally established authotity. But competence and leadership will appear more and more outside the clerical caste. A phenomenon similar to the succession of the bourgeoisie to the aristocracy will take place. In the first place sorne rights will be granted to non-members of the clerical caste. People will speak of the rights of laymen, etc. Parallel to this the clergy will be evaluated more and more according to its competence in animating the People of God, and not so much according to its priestly "character." At that moment people will no longer ask for "a priest," but "a particular priest." The second step--and we are in it--sees laymen working in collaboration with priests to assume the effective, if not official Jeade>¡ship in the Church. It is a time when congresses of laymen are more interesting than episcopal synods. The important fact at thi~ time is not so rouch to be pat"t of the clergy, but to have the charism of leadership. Will not the end of the evolution result in recognizing that Roly Orders shoul<l normally consecrate and "perfect" actual existing leadership. In other words, when sorne "laymen" because of their competency, their caring for the Church are elected to represent the faithful, and to think about ways to build the kingdom of God, and they accept this leadership, would it not be good that they would be ordained? This ordination would be a sacramental (and consequently efficient in the theological meaning of the word) recognition of the charism. Will it not become normal to see in such elections the practical acknowledgement of an ecclesial charism? Through this ordination the sacrament does not give a magical character to the priest but the Church visibly recognizes, at the institutional leve!, the charism which is Christ's way of leading the Church, and in doing so, completes it. By ordaining a man, the Church affirms that the charism is official and that she confers official leadership (because no one can take it on himself to impose himself as a leader). Finally, the Church affirms that the experiences of




leadership in the Church is really Christ's leadership. "Whatever you shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven and whatever you shall loose on earth, shall be loosed in heaven" (Mt. 16 :19).

If this analysis is correct, cm-rent problems concerning the relationship between clergy and Jaity (which come ultimately from the competition between an institutional leadership and functional leadership) are questions of transition. This will obviously imply in the Church an evolution of the institutions similar to the one by which civil society has gone from absolute monarchy to democracy ....



In our modern world, when a chief of state is no longer able to function as su ch (no matter what the reason is : the Joss of the trust of the nation, for example) the transition can be made rather easily because the institutional leadership is transferred to somebody who can exercise it. Could not something similar exist in the Church? In such a perspective, even though ali the problems inherent in any society of men will al ways be present, one can predict a lessening of the tension provoked by the existence of a clerical class closed in on itself in the face of a world of laymen who are becoming more and more competent. The end of compulsory celibacy for the clergy (which can probably already be forseen) will more than likely do a lot toward the destruction of the "clerical class." Ali this leads us to examine just what is the hierarchy of the Church. At the present stage of development of that problem (theologians are still digesting the consequences of the Council's adoption of the chapter on episcopal collegiality) we will only ask sorne questions and indicate sorne hypotheses. The Church as community has sorne institutions which make it socially visible. These have to use the institutional and symbolic resources of the culture in which the ecclesial community lives. From the preceding observations it is easy to understand that in contemporary society, until very recently,. it was practically necessary that the visible Christian community exist as a monarchical institution: this was the only way a group could structure itself. The power of the bishop and of Peter



had to be similar to the institutionalized power of the parallel secular society. N atumlly, the Church borrowed its vocabulary and symbols from contemporary kingdoms and empires. Consequently, then, one may and even must question what in the theology of the episcopacy, the papacy, and the hierarchy cornes from the essence of the Church and what cornes from .the culture where these institutions were born. If the Church is the human sign of the kingdom should she not make full use of the symbols and the language of human culture. When to function properly, the social situation demands a firm structure which limits initiative, monarchical and aristocratie institutions and a directive authority played their role weil. But since society ditferentiates roles and these roles demand more and more specialized training, would it not be better to look to modern democratie institutions and non-directive attitudes to find a real and efficient sigu of the kingdom? In other words, are the theological affirmations, pertaining to the episcopacy and the papacy concerned with the cultural peculiarities of these institutions or with the ir unive1-sality? If these institutions are meant to structure a visible society as a real and efficient sign of the kingdom, they should be periodically reformulated according to the changes of the culture. If these theological affirmations then are reworded could we not imagine that perhaps "in loco Petri" (in place of Peter) there would be instead of a ki nd of monarch, a kind of president of a democratic-like institution. In that, there would not be any discontinuity, but fidelity to the principle of the Incarnation: this states, indeed, that the place of the divine on earth is directly in the human institutions themselves. To want to preserve the cultural symbols of another time would be j)erhaps just to be' gin to be unfaithful ... ln such a perspective, we do not propose that an ecclesiastical hierarchy is a pm¡ely human institution. What we propose is that what Christ instituted in a particular form could develop itself in different patterns. ln other words, the right question is: "ls not the Church, as a sacrament of salvation, more impot-tant than the patterns in which she has embodied herself throughout history? Was not the Church as a sacrament of salvation instituted by Christ for herself? Were not the patterns instituted only because the Church could not exist



except as a visible organization? In such a case, then, these patterns cleveloped themselves throughout history. Sorne ecclesiastical institutions whose origins were traditionally attributed clirectly to Christ in fact coulcl have evolved from the foundation by Christ of the ecclesial community as the sacrament of salvation. A doctrinal clevelopment recognizing this distinction is obviously possible only at an age--such as ours-which is able to disccrn the relations between institutions and cultures. These are the questions that a reflection on the priesthood and leadership in the Church force us to ask ... even without yet being able to answer them. ¡ CoNCLUSION

Considering the image that leadership takes in modern society we have been led to rethink what could be the manifestation of the sacrament of the priesthood. We have seen how our thinking had to get beyond the cultural contingencies relative to a time and a place to look for the charism of leadership always present in the Church. Our development looks more sociological than theological! lt is only truc in part: theology must indeed, to be faithful to the movement of the Spirit in history, look to what happens in the human community. There only, will theology be able to recognize the "signs of the times" .... The strength of faith is to be able to realize that through human structures it is truly Christ who cornes. Faith proper is to be able to see human structures as a presence of Christ. Faith does not have to scparate the supernatural from the human but has to recognize that through the Incarnation and the sacraments it is precisely the human that manifests the divine of which it is pregnant....




Robert L. Faricy, S.J. is an assistant professor in the Religious Education Department of Catholic University. Gerard M. Fourez, S.J. is a recently ordained Jesuit from Belguim, who is now studying for a doctorate in Physics at the University of Maryland. His article is an adaptation of a study published in La Revue Nouvelle. Donald P. Gray is assistant professor in graduate religions studies at Manhattan College, Bronx, New York. Carl Lezak is associate pastor of St. Sebastian's Church m Chicago, Illinois. Ernest Lussier, S.S.S. is a professor of Sacred Scripture at St. Mary of the Lake Seminary, Mundelein, Illinois. Edward Marciniak is the Deputy Commissioner of the Department of Development and Planning for the City of Chicago. Joseph J. O'Brien is a professor of systematic theology at St. Mary of the Lake Seminary, Mundelein, Illinois. ¡Robert A. Reicher is chaplain for the Catholic Council on Working !ife in Chicago, Illinois. Jared Wicks, S.J. is a professor of systematic theology at Bellarmine School of Theology, North Aurora, Illinois.


INDEX TO VOLUME 8 (1969) n. 1 (Spring), 1-112; n. 2 (Summer), 113-224; n. 3 ( Fall) 225-336. Blake, Richard A., S.J., The Vanishing Godin the Films of lngmar Bergman ............................................................ 145 Bracken, Joseph A., S.J., Deus Absconditus ........................ 163 Carmody, John, S.J., Karl Rahner's -Theo/ogy of the Spiritual Life .... .............................................................


Dedek, John F., A Blueprint fo.r a Cuniculwn .................... 217 Dulles, Avery, S.J ., The Open Chwrch ..................................


Dyer, George J., Youth and the "Faith Crisis" Among Seminarians ........................................................


Faricy, Robert L., S.J., The Voluntarist Tmdition in Catholic Theology ........................................................... 301 Fourez, Gerard M., S.J., The Priesthood in a Modern Society .............................................................................. 309 Fox, Richard Wightman, Lamennais' Understanding of the Spiritual and Tempoml ............................................ 177 Gray, Donald P., The Resurrection of Jesus and the Worldly P1路esence of the Church ................................... 287 Kollar, Nathan, O.Carm., The Church and the Sick ............


Lezak, Carl, Tomor1路ow's Ch?-istian, A Review .................... 235 Lussiet路, Ernest, S.S.S., Some Reflexions on the Narratives of the Institution of the Eucharist ................................ 249 Malone, George K., MassMedia and Chwrch Teaching ....... 205 Marciniak, Edward, Tomor1路ow's Christian. A Review of Two Rev,:ews ................................................................ 241 331



Meyer, Charles R., The Crisis of Faith and Pâestly I rlenti ty ________________________________________________ . ___ ____ ______ __________ __ 115 Meyer, Charles R., A New Theology ------------------------------------


Meyer, Eric C., C.P ., Catholic Theology and the Death of God: A Response _____________ --------------- ------------------------- 189 O'Brien, Joseph J., To Cluster or not to Cluste1·: That is the Question ____________________________________________________ 261 Philbrick, Richard, Association of Chicago Priests ___________ 103 Reicher, Robert A., Tonwrrow's Christian, A Review Article __ .______ ._________________________________________________________ . _______ . __ 227 Rigali, Norbert J., S.J., Moral Theology: Old aml New______


Rigali, Norbert J., S.J., The Unity of the Moral Order ______ 125 Siedlecki, Edmund, Renewing the Sacraments --------------------


Wicks, Jared, S.J., L1dher Th1·ough Catholic Eyes ____________ 275

CHICAGO STUDIES REPRINTS The following reprints are available in limited quantities at a 40% discount; you may find them valuable for class work, study clubs, etc. Please send 20if for each reprint ordered : Chicago Studies, Box 665, Mundelein, Illinois 60060. ' Ahent, Barnabas M., C.P. Sacramentality: lts Biblical Background

Bastian, Ralph, S.J. Confirmation: The Gift of the Spirit Baute, Paschal, O.S.B. A Report on Pastoral Counselor Training Bea, Augustin. Aspects of a Peaceful Revolution

Bernard, James. The Priest of Being Biechler, James & McDonald, James. New Horizons w Canon Law Boe, John. Church Music and Aggiornamento: An Angelican View Boyer, Charles, S.J. One Flock and Many Shepherd:; Braybrooke, Neville. Voices. in the Desert: Jung and Teilhard Buckley, Francis, S.J. Penance in_ the Church Camara, Helder. Vatican Il: Reflections and Suggestions Chirico, Peters, S.S. The Theology of the Parù;h: The Problérn Collins, Joseph, M.M. The Strange World of Father Teilhard Congar, Yves M.-J., O.P. The Church Seed of Unity and Hope Connors, Joseph, S.V.D. Science of the Sunday Sermon Cooke, Bernard, S.J. Theological Education of Seminarians Crossan, Dominic, O.S.M. Biblical Tru th as Dialectical A nalysù; Daniélou, Jean, S.J. The Church of the Poor Dedek, John F. An Excursion in Theological Methodology, Some Moral Minimalism Della Penta, Joseph C., ,O.P. On Dante "Cantabile" Dirscherl, Dennis, S.J. Doestoevsky: Advocate of Chrù;tian Suffering Donlon, Stephen E. Monarchial Episcopate Dreher, John. Sacramental Aspects of Tradition DuBay, William H. Democratie Structures in the Church Dvornik, Francis. The Patriarch Photius and Roman Primacy Dyer, George J. The Unbaptized Infant in Eternity. Doctrine Growth or Betrayal. New Emphasis in Sacramental Theology. The Theology of Death





Ellis, John Tracy. A Seminary Jubilee Emanuel, Thomas, C.SS.R. The Nurnen and the Good News Fichtner·, John A., O.S.C. The Fellowship of the Saints Gaffney, James, Geaney, Dennis Gorman, John & Gray, Dona1d P.

S.J. William James on the Virtues of l'J'ar J. The Chicago Story McDonagh, Andrew. God's Disappointments Sin and the Destruction of Community

Hliring, Bernard, C.SS.R. The Dynamism of Christian Life Hassel, David, S.J. Mediator Between Church and Secular Learning Heaney, Thomas W. Cosmic Resurrection and Apocalypse Hofinger, Johannes, S.J. Contemporary Catechetics Jedin, Hubert. Luther: A New View Keating, John R. .Marriage of the Psychopathie Personality Kiesling, Christopher, O.P. Detoart on Faith. From Ceremony to Communication. The Church's Institution of Liturgy. Liturgy in the Modern lV orld Klauder, Francis. Challenge Of Thought of Pierre Teilhard de Cha1·din Kreyche, Gerald. Phüosophy and Contemporary Man Lambert, Ro11ins. Jewish Back,qround of the Liturgical Year Lay, Thomas, S.J. Contemporary Images for Contwmporary Preachers McCiory, Robert. Modern Morality and the Natural Law McElwain, Hugh. Theology in an Age of Christian Reneum.l McFarland, John, S.J. Polority in Certain Existentialists McKenzie, John, S.J. Sign.') of Power: NT Presentation of ft1iracles Mahon, Leo T. Machismo and Christianity Malone, Georg-e. Mater, Si! Magistra, Si. Academie Freedom and Apologetics. The Church Organization and Structure. Academie Freedom Revisited Mangan, Joseph, S.J. Questions on ''The Pill" Meyer, Charles R. Sorrow that Sanctifies. Lost Virtue? Obedience in the Modern lVorld. Ordained Women in the Early Church. Status of Grace Toda y. Signs of Times: Theological Overview Motherway, Thoma!'l, S.J. Su.penwtu.ral Exist.ential Munson, Thomas, S.J.Marxist Atheism: Refiection in the Plâlosophy of Religion. Philosophy ·in Ecumenical Dialogue Murphy, Ronald, O.Cann. Divine Afjlante Spiri.tu-Twenty Years A/ter Reicher, Robert. Prie.')t in Civil Righi.') Demonstrations. Collective Bargaining and Church-related Institutions. Social Origins of Seminarians. Priest8 and Cornmunity Organization.: A Dissent Siedlecki, Edmund J, Liturgical Reform: Diagnosis a.nd Prognosis