Conversing in charity
THE
Catho l i c
Bishops’
Conference of the Philippines has set this rather “interesting” year as the Year of Interreligious Dialogue. In decades past, we prayed that the “separated brethren” would return to the true fold. “O bring them back, Good Shepherd of the Sheep…,” went one of the pious songs popular at the time.
There is a problem of course when the sheep whose return you ardently wish for think that it is you who have gone astray and need to return from your meandering, back to
It would be to start off on the wrong foot were we to downplay the differences that exist. These are divergences not only in ritual or liturgical expression; they go to the very core of what is believed. In Catholic terms, they are differences about what we consider “dogmatic.” And serious, scholarly dialogue along these lines must be pursued. Theologians of faith communities willing to enter into dialogue must continue to clarify for each other the meanings of our symbols and the root metaphors that we use and distinguish what is a matter of faith and a matter of human vanity and stubbornness. Much of this endeavor to reach a shared understanding will center on the book that has, quite tragically, divided rather than held us apart — Sacred Scriptures.
But there is another route that need not render the first superfluous. It is that tracked out by Pope Francis when he so boldly announced that he was offering the Orthodox Church with Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew at its head “full communion without any preconditions.” Obviously, Francis was not saying that there were no theological difficulties that stood in the way. Rather, he was, I believe, urged by the Spirit to do the right thing pastorally: To invite Catholics and Orthodox alike to sit at the same table, nourish themselves by the same Word, and share in the inestimable patrimony of the Eucharist — the Divine Mysteries — without being hampered by the ongoing theological debates that may take all of eternity to resolve.
The obscurity of Clement of Rome reference to the Church of Rome as “presiding in charity,” the lesson learned from the Galatian confrontation between Paul and Peter, and the clear references to the Petrine Ministry in the Gospel should provide enough basis for some kind of a “primacy” of the Successor of Peter that does not trump the conciliar or synodal traditions of the Orthodox Church nor subject their patriarchs to vassalage to the See of Peter. And our common faith in the gift of the Eucharist should allow full “
(common participation in worship) without further ado.
A broader understanding of “apostolic succession” — less physical, and truer to the original inspiration of “apostolic” as “witnessing to the ministry, to the passion and Resurrection of the Lord” should allow us to recognize that other faith communities are “apostolic” as well. We will still need apologetics, that is for sure, but we will need that kind of biblical theology that provides us common ground from which a more variegated systematic theology can arise. In other words, we need not all believe exactly the same things to be one community, one Church seated at one table.
The break of 1054 between Rome and Constantinople merely brought to headlong a simmering rivalry, not really theological difference, but a clash of personalities and of traditions. Conscious of these we may well avoid the same mistakes as the past and, rather than imposing uniformity, rejoice and celebrate the variety of perspectives, recognize the fact that the Holy Spirit gives us different tongues to proclaim one faith, and transform the confusion of Babel into an unrivaled symphony of Christians loving each other, acknowledging the same Lord and endeavoring to make of this wounded world the foundation stones of the Kingdom of God.