Cardinal Kasper at Catholic University in Washington

OK, OK, I know this isn't an engaging title for a blog posting, but I was fortunate this evening to hear Cardinal Walter Kasper give the lecture accompanying his being awarded the Johannes Quasten Medal by the Catholic University of America and I am excited about his talk.  The audience was much larger than expected and we were tightly squeezed into the auditorium at Caldwell Hall but I was fortunate to arrive early and get a seat behind a row of young Dominican friars in their white habits. From an ecclesial perspective, it was a rather diverse audience—a lot of religious in their habits, diocesan seminarians in their collars, professor types in jackets with elbow patches, business people in suits, a huge assortment of people in dress-down casual, and, of course, the usual NCR lefty types in sensible shoes.  The talk was well received because it was really an apologia for Pope Francis’ pontificate.  Kasper was the man behind the podium but Francis was the man of the hour.  

The Cardinal began by giving a contrast between the theological methodologies of Popes Benedict and Francis.  Benedict was, as one would expect of a scholar of his background, steeped in the classic European theological method, though from the patristic sources rather than the Thomist perspective that had so long dominated Catholic dogmatic theology.  Francis—whom Kasper described as “not a Franciscan in disguise, but a Jesuit through and through” works from the Ignatian model of discernment which Saint Ignatius developed in his Spiritual Exercises In Francis’ theological model this is interpreted through the Argentine experience of the Communidades de Base, the so-called “Base Communities” that study the scripture together in order to arrive at a “hermeneutic from below” and which use a “See, Judge, Act” methodology to move from theological theory to concrete action.   Kasper admitted that this draws on “the Argentine model of Liberation Theology” which he very carefully distinguished from the Marxist models of the same.  Nevertheless, it was clear from his talk that it is respectable, indeed more than respectable, again to be fan of “liberation theology.” 

Cardinal Kasper moved from Francis’ model of theological reflection to the Pope’s preoccupation with the idea of “joy” which he learned from reading the Gospel with these communidades de base.  This led Jorge Bergoglio, now Pope Francis, to understand that the Gospel is not a dogmatic text but a living message of God’s love for the world.  One of the key insights the Cardinal gave in his talk is that dogma or doctrine does not interpret the Gospel but the Gospel is the key to interpreting the doctrines.  This alone made the talk more than worthwhile as so many Catholics are trapped in a pseudo-theology where the Joy of the Gospel (in Latin: Evangelii Gaudium—which is the title of Francis’ encyclical) can be trumped by the rigors of dogma.

This joy of the Gospel opens our eyes to the central message of the Gospel which is the Mercy of God.  Mercy—and this is another great idea expressed by the Cardinal—is the maximization of justice whereas justice is the minimalization of mercy.  In other words, the barest minimum of mercy is to offer justice, but justice—expanded to its fullness of virtue—will always manifest itself in mercy.  Mercy will always manifest itself in love.  The Church’s mission—and mission is the priority of the Church in the world—is to spread this message of God’s love in a cynical and weary world. 

The Cardinal went on then to talk about Francis’ understanding of Church.  Of the various ways in which we can look at the Church, Francis emphasizes the Church as communio, as the People of God.  The Institutional model of Church doesn’t hold much of Francis’ interest.  Again this understanding of the Church as a communion of people, of the living and the dead, comes from his experiences in the communidades de base.  But Francis also sees the Church not as a centralized institution, but as a communion of local Churches, each gathered around its bishops and in communion with all others. This has great impact on the potentials for ecumenical and inter-religious dialogue.  And Francis, the Cardinal said, sees the Church’s relationship with other Churches not in the model of concentric circles of truth, diminishing in truth as they move further and further from the Catholic center, but as a gem with its many facets, each of which reflects the light, albeit it in different ways and in different intensities. 

So all in all it was an evening of stimulating thought and exciting vision for the future.  Not everyone clapped at the end.  I notice the professor types were, for the most part, somewhat reticent but academia is filled with its Sheldon Coopers who think no one else is quite so intelligent or has so much to say as themselves.  And as we walked into Caldwell, I notice two sad souls (three, if you count the life-size statue of Our Lady of Fatima they brought with them.  It would be nice to count her as she was the only one with a smile, though a somewhat wry smile.)  They were saying the Joyful mysteries of the rosary.  Too bad the talk wasn’t tomorrow so they could say the sorrowful ones.  Joy didn’t befit them.  But then, as the Cardinal implied in his talk, that is the difference between Religion and the Gospel.   

The Politics of Spirituality

Thomas Merton, leading

American Spiritual writer

of the last 100 years.

A friend of mine called me the other evening with a question he is facing on a take-home exam at Catholic U in Washington.  He wanted my advice as it is a field in which I teach.  And the question was “Compare and contrast contemporary spiritual writers with the classical spiritual writers.” 

I suggested several ideas he might want to follow—contemporary spiritual writers draw on other fields such as psychology, anthropology, sociology of religion etc. in their writing, fields not developed at the time of Francis de Sales or Teresa of Avila or Bernard of Clairvaux.  Moreover, contemporary spiritual writers will also draw insights from other world-religion traditions such as Buddhism or Islamic mysticism and they will also find insight in Native American spirituality or in the spiritual
traditions of cultures such as the Australian aborigines.  This would not have been done before Nostra Aetate at Vatican II nor could it have been done in the more culturally narrow worlds of the medieval or even the early modern periods.  At this point my friend interrupted me and said that the contemporary authors they had read for this course on the history of Christian spirituality drew neither on an inter-disciplinary nor a inter-faith tradition.  So whom, I asked, had they been assigned to read.  The answer was Joseph Ratzinger (Benedict XVI), Karl Rahner, and Henri deLubac.  I had been expecting Thomas Merton, Thomas Keating, Joan Chittester, Ronald Rohlheiser, Richard Rohr, Evelyn Underhill, Henri Nouwen, and other contemporary writers.  Ratzinger, Rahner, and deLubac are great writers—but they are systematic theologians not spiritual theologians.  Granted that each of the produced some writings of profound spiritual importance and each has shown through his writings a profound personal spiritual experience but it is interesting that the writers who are influencing contemporary American Catholics are overlooked in favor of these ivory-tower pietists. 

Now I realize that a Ratzinger or a Rahner or a deLubac  bring an academic rigor to their writings that the above mentioned authors do not.  But Teresa of Avila and Thérèse of Lisieux and even Francis de Sales were not academics.  Ignatius and his Spiritual Exercises are not the overflow of scholarly reflection. Thomas à Kempis did not write from a theological perspective.  Eckhardt was a theologian of course—but clearly distinguished between his mystical works (which were usually in the vernacular being in the way of sermons for enclosed nus) and his speculative theology which was written in Latin.   So too Bernard—while his work is theologically sound—wrote from inner spiritual experience not from rational constructions.  I am not questioning why a fellow professor assigned Rahner and Ratzinger but I do wonder why he passed over Merton, Underhill, and others?  But then, it is Catholic University and the ecclesiology of some professors is rather narrow to suit the purposes of the University’s governors and their own advancement.   Such is how the academic world plays its politics. 

It is, I am afraid, another symptom of the widening gap between the Church of the hierarchy and the Church of the Faithful.  Those who buy into the hierarchical model of Church dismiss the work of the Holy Spirit among the ordinary rank and file Christians.  It is tragic that this dichotomy has opened up at all but it is dangerous that the gap is widening.  There is so much spiritual vitality among the everyday Catholics that can be harnessed for a true New Evangelization if only those leading the hierarchical Church could look beyond their narrow vision and see it.      

 

Origins of Radical Catholicism X: A Catholic University

The next scheme the liberal party came up with was the founding of a Catholic University in Washington DC.  John Lancaster Spalding, Bishop of Peoria, won the endorsement of the majority of bishops at the Third Plenary Council of Baltimore in 1884 for this idea.  This should not be surprising as Spalding had already presented the plan to Leo XIII for his approval—which was given—and he also had persuaded a wealthy New York Heiress Mary Gwendolyn Caldwell for a burse of three hundred thousand dollars (worth approx 6.7 million today) to realize the initial phase of the university.  Caldwell Hall, the principal residence for priests professors is named after Ms. Caldwell.   (We might do an adults-only blog on the Spalding/Caldwell ties.)   Not everyone was in favor of this projected university; there was, one should not be surprised, an agenda.  The primary function of the University was to be a  seminarium principale for the American Church—a place where dioceses could send their men to study and earn pontifical degrees without having to go to Europe.  Up until this time, if a priest wished to earn a church-recognized degree (which was required for seminary professors) he had to go to one of the European universities such as Leuven in Belgium or Innsbruck in Austria or one of the Roman Universities.  (There were other options, notably in Spain, but most Americans went to one of the three named; and in fact most went to Rome.) The liberals, in their project to stamp the Church in the United States with a distinctly American identity, wanted to avoid exposing future generations of clergy as much as possible to European thought and customs.  Given the strong monarchial and integrist tenor of late nineteenth century Europe this is understandable.  As the Americanist agenda became more clear, the more conservative bishops—German and American alike—began to back off their support.  Corrigan led the way.  Of course, Corrigan had an agenda too—he wanted Fordham, the Jesuit University in his archdiocese, to be the official Catholic University for the United States.  Milwaukee Archbishop Michael Heiss, the leading German bishop in the United States and an implacable foe of the liberal party, was a member of the committee to choose a rector, and his abrupt resignation alerted Rome that something more than what appeared was going on.  The Jesuits—jealous to protect Georgetown from a second church affiliated university in Washington and anxious to make their university at Fordham the Catholic University, worked with Corrigan.  In the end, it was Gibbons (who ironically was not a supporter of the idea) who used his friendship with Leo XIII to bring the project to fruition.  The University opened in 1889—the centenary year for the establishment of a Catholic hierarchy in the United States—with John Joseph Keane as Rector.  (Keane, you may remember from earlier posts, was a leading liberal).  The university would be the scene of many a battle between liberals and conservatives over the course of the twentieth century, not least of which was the Henry Poels debacle in 1908, the John Courtney Murray archdebacle in the 1950’s, and the case of Father Charles Curran after the Humanae Vitae Encyclical in 1968 with Act II of this tragic farce from 1986-89.   These are blips, however, on a fairly consistent track record of arbitrary authority triumphing over sound scholarship.   At some future time when I do a blog or two on the John Courtney Murray debacle I will justify the words "arbitrary" and "sound," but until then we move on—the next blog will be on the Apostolic Delegation.  Remember that while blogs are posted most days, there will be gaps as i do have a (not terribly demanding) day job.  The image today is McMahon Hall on the campus of The Catholic University of America, Washington DC