Pope Francis and Ecumenical Dialogue

Luther posting the 95
Theses on the Castle
Church Door 

Pope Francis continues to drive the Krazies to the brink of schism.  The current outrage is his apology for the atrocities committed by Catholics against Protestants during the Reformation and his decision to attend a public commemoration of the Reformation at the Lutheran Cathedral in Lund, Sweden, this autumn marking the beginning of the 5^th centennial of the Reformation. 

It is curious that the commemoration marking the beginning of the year long anticipation of Luther’s 1517 posting of the 95 Theses on Wittenberg Castle Church is being held in Sweden and not in Germany.  Presumably the conclusion of the centennial will be held next year in Wittenberg and it is easier for the Pope to go to an event held by the (Lutheran) Church of Sweden rather than the Evangelical (Lutheran) Church in Germany as the Swedish Church has always maintained much more of its Catholic heritage than the other Lutheran Churches. 

Lund has been a diocese since 1060—originally suffrage to Hamburg—and a Metropolitan Archdiocese from 1104 until the Reformation.  During the Middle Ages it held the primacy of Scandinavia.  During the Reformation the Scandinavian Churches temporarily abolished the distinctions of Archbishop, reducing Lund to a diocese again.  It currently is a diocese suffragen to Uppsala.  The last Catholic Archbishop of Torben Bille who, before he could be consecrated, was arrested and imprisoned by Christian III of Denmark. 

This gets a little complicated here as there are several interlocking historical circles.  Lund at the time of Torben Bille was actually under Danish rule.  Christian’s father, Frederick I, had introduced Lutheranism into Denmark.  Christian’s accession to the throne was initially blocked by the Catholic bishops and nobles who were resisting the Reformation, but after the Count’s War King Christian prevailed in his efforts to make the Church of Denmark Lutheran.  As Lund was in his realm, he was not anxious for a Catholic bishop there and so replaced Bille with Frans Vormordsen.  It was over a century later, in 1658, that Lund was ceded to Sweden. 

As for the Church of Sweden being Lutheran, that is a parallel but separate story.  Sweden, Denmark, and Norway had been united under one crown by Margaret I of Denmark in the 1397 Union of Kalmar.  With the gradual rise of distinct national identities among the Scandinavian peoples in the fifteenth century this Union became more and more fragile.  In the early sixteenth century the Swedes established their independence under the leadership of Gustav Vasa, a truly great monarch.  The problem was that the Archbishop of Uppsala and primate of Sweden, Gustav Trolle, was still loyal to Christian II of Denmark.  The Danish parliament, the Riksdag, petitioned the pope to replace him with Johannes Magnus, a prelate  more to his own liking.  There were four other empty dioceses and Gustav proposed candidates to the pope for these dioceses as well.  The pope rejected Magnus and three of Gustav’s four candidates.  The King installed Magnus without the authorizing papal bull.  The irony is that Magnus turned out to be a loyal Catholic and Gustav was frustrated in his attempts to introduce Lutheranism to Sweden.  He finally sent Magnus to Russia on a diplomatic errand.  Meanwhile, Magnus’ brother went to Rome and explained to the Holy See the situation in Sweden and why Trolle could not be reinstated.  The Holy See ended up having Magnus consecrated as Archbishop of Uppsala but as Gustav Vasa was determined to introduce Lutheranism to his kingdom, the point was moot and Magnus was unable to return to his see and spent the remainder of his life in Rome. 

Why did Gustav Vasa want Sweden to be Lutheran?  Basically it was the same story as the motivation behind Henry VIII.  Both monarchs—as well as several other European Kings and princes—believed that the Church in their realms should be subject to the Crown and not to a foreign prince—the Pope.  This was the time of the rise of nation states and the various kings and princes saw the political power of the Church and were determine to harness it for their own purposes.  In countries such as France, and even more so Spain, where the papacy pretty much gave control over the Church to the Crown there was no problem.  But in Denmark and Sweden and England and Scotland and a variety of German principalities and dukedoms, the practicalities of politics trumped Christian faith.  Of course today too God often get’s the word and self-interest gets the deed. 

Today there is a strong backlash against ecumenism among the right-wing Catholics.  They ignore both the complexities of history and our contemporary world and want no dialogue—much less apologies—with those who differ from their own opinions and views.  They are quite like the wing-nuts that have taken over conservative politics in the United States: it is all or nothing, no dialogue and no compromise.  I will steer away from the political realm—though it interlocks with a certain distorted Christianity—but in the realm of Christianity we cannot afford not to sit down and dialogue with anyone who is willing to enter into sincere and honest dialogue.  The healing of the divisions in Christianity is of paramount importance in a world that on the one flank is confronted by jihadist Islam and on the flank by the rampant secularism of our post-modern world.   Jesus’ final request for us was ut unum sint: that all may be one.  This is not an option: it is a commandment.  We are a long way from being able to fulfill that mandate but it begins with dialogue. 

The Complexities of Ecumenism

Pope Francis greets Archbishop
of Uppsala and Primate of the
Church of Sweden, Antje Jakelen 

It wasn’t that long ago that a delegation from the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America declined an invitation to meet Pope John Paul II when the Vatican insisted that one of the bishops in the delegation be excluded from the papal meeting because she is a woman. It was the Vatican stance that such a meeting would undermine the Church’s opposition to women’s ordination.  Last May Pope Francis met with Antje Jackelén, the Archbishop of Uppsala and Primate of Sweden—and a woman. This was supposedly the first time a Pope had met—at least officially—with a woman bishop.  The Pope was somewhat circumspect in addressing Archbishop Jackelén, never using the title “Archbishop.”  She was “esteemed Madame Jackelén,” or “Dear Dr. Jackelén,” or “esteemed sister.” (The use of “sister” is telling as the Pope traditionally refers to his fellow bishops as “brother,” but I am not sure we should read very much into that choice of terms.)

Well the Pope took another small step forward last week when he received an ecumenical delegation from the Finnish Catholic Church and the Lutheran Church of Finland in which he said “I thank the Lutheran Bishop of Helsinki, Irja Askola, for her kind greeting on your behalf.”  This is no sign that the Catholic Church is—at any time soon—going to drop its opposition to the ordination of women but it is a sign that the Church is prepared to face the ecumenical realities of divergent opinions on this  (and other) key principles of both doctrine and discipline. 

Ecumenism has grown much more complicated in the fifty+ years since Vatican II and Unitatis Reintegratio.  Fifty years ago Christians could have spoken with one voice, at least officially, on subjects such as same-sex marriage, abortion, transgendering, and extra-marital sex.  Fifty years ago most Protestant denominations did not—and were not contemplating to—ordain women to the ministries of Word and Sacrament.  (The Methodist Church is one of the exceptions having approved the ordination of women in the mid 1950’s—and there having been ordinations of women among certain Methodist groups even in the late 19^th century.) 

Dialogue means an openness to change.  It also presents an opportunity for witness.  There are many among the Krazies who live in mortal terror of ecumenical dialogue because it means that there may be yet more changes in our Catholic way of doing things.  Ecumenical dialogue will have to face the issue of the ordination of women before we can (officially) have sacramental sharing.  Honest dialogue will require that all participants come with open minds and discerning spirits.  Dialogue could present us with sound arguments to rethink our position on any number of issues.  This isn’t compromise—Truth cannot be compromised—but we may come to new and fuller appreciations of the Truth.  Why are people so afraid that they may not possess Truth in all its fullness?  None of us has the fullness of Truth.  The depths of the Mystery of God have yet to be fully explored.  Nor will they ever be.  We cannot stand paralyzed in fear when we are only a few steps into what is an eternal journey.  Bishop Kallistos Ware put it well when wrote of the Hesychast Fathers

Perfection is to be seen not in static but in dynamic terms: the blessed never reach a point where their pilgrimage comes to an end, but through all eternity they continue to advance further and further into the love of God.

When we understand that God did not create us to be a graduate school of dogma but a people who journey together into the Mystery of God the fear of what lies ahead dissipates.  This requires not only some drastic rethinking on our part, but some conversion of our hearts.  But then isn’t the conversion of our hearts what Christian faith is all about? 

Speaking of Lutherans and the need to rethink things: the Reverend Doctor Martin Junge, Secretary General of the Lutheran World Federation and Cardinal Kurt Koch, President of the Vatican’s Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity last week issued a “Common Prayer” to prepare for the upcoming 500^th anniversary of the Lutheran Reformation which will occur in 2017.  (Martin Luther nailed his famous “95 Theses” to the door of Wittenberg Castle Church on October 31, 1517 calling for a theological debate on what he—and others—saw as serious flaws in Catholic doctrine and practice.)   It is truly a remarkable sign of change that the Holy See is prepared to view the Reformation not as a tragedy (though in so many ways it was) or a rebellion (which it also was, all rebellions not being bad things) but as an event in the history of the Church that has positive as well as negative aspects.  Along with the krazies, I have no doubt that Gregory XVI and Pius X and Pius XI and dozen of other popes would be scratching their heads and wondering just what malaria from the malodorous Tiber had affected and infected the brains of current Vatican officials that they were preparing to commemorate the Protestant Reformation.  But again, I think this is the benefit of honest dialogue.  We can come to an honest appreciation of the Reformation.  Yes, it divided Western Christendom and yes it caused strife at every level of society and even warfare.  But God brings forth Grace in every situation no matter how sinful.  The Reformation shocked Catholic Europe into Reformations of its own and gave us great saints like Charles Borromeo and Francis de Sales and Teresa of Avila.  It made us face into the complicit tolerance of the gross immorality of prelates and priests and princes and set impeccable standards of behavior. (You know, I think we could use another one of these reformations.) It gave us seminaries and catechisms.  It reformed convents and monasteries. It reformed the Liturgy and cleaned out a multitude of superstitious practices that had crept into Catholic devotionalism.  It gave us the Jesuits and the Discalced Carmelites and the observant Franciscans.  It put the bible into the language (and the hands) of the faithful. 

And it didn’t do bad for our Protestant brothers and sisters either.  As for us, it was also for them a mixed blessing.  There was much that was good that was lost.  But it created the great hymnody of the West, beginning with Luther’s own hymns.  It set standards of moral rectitude and reinforced the family as the basic unit of the Church (and thus of society).  It introduced people to the Word of God in scripture.  It strengthened the idea of the community of the faithful which in turn led to the emergence of democratic ideas and institutions.  It too gave us some masterful spiritual writers such as Lancelot Andrews, George Herbert, the poet John Donne, Jakob Böhme, and Martin Luther himself whose devotional writings are well worth looking at.  Protestant spirituality can be seen in such remarkable texts as John Winthrop’s famous sermon to the Massachusetts Bay colonists: “A City Upon A Hill” or Milton’s Paradise Lost.  Much sound spirituality (as well as even more florid piety) can be found in Protestant hymnody.  The hymns of Charles Wesley are especially to be commended and many are used in Catholic worship since Vatican II—and a few even before. 

We Christians must build a common future. To paraphrase Benjamin Franklin in a very different situation: we must stand together or assuredly we shall hang separately.  It is very urgent that we face the threats of secularism and religious extremism with one faith, one determination, and one voice—the voice of Christ in the Gospel.  The tragedy of the Reformation is not that it happened, it is that false disciples want to perpetuate the hatred and strife the Reformation caused and block the Grace that God wishes to bestow on us through our shared history. 

Sometimes Religious Syncretism Works

Seventeenth-century altar rail in
an English (Anglican) Church

For many Catholics who are disturbed by the liturgical changes of the last fifty or so years one of the most upsetting has been the removal of the altar rails from their parish churches.  What many do not know, of course, is that the altar rail has its origins in the Protestant reformation. 

We can tell from reading the Fathers of the Church that the practice of receiving Holy Communion for at least the first seven centuries was—as it remained and still is in the Eastern Churches—for the communicant to present himself or herself standing to the priest at the foot of the altar.  In the very early centuries, let us say from apostolic times up until perhaps the seventh century, it was expected that all present would receive Holy Communion.  (Those who were not eligible—catechumens and penitents—had been dismissed after the sermon.)  However, as through missionary efforts Christianity spread northward into what is today Germany, England, the Low Countries, Austria, and eventually Scandinavia and Poland, and as the various “Barbarian” tribes swept down into Italy, the large number of poorly catechized converts saw a dramatic decline in the numbers of those who received Holy Communion.  Many never received at all.  An exaggerated emphasis on the need for Sacramental Confession before receiving Holy Communion and the imposition of very strict Communion Fasts also contributed to the decline in people receiving.  The situation became so desperate that in 1215 the Fourth Lateran Council had to mandate that Christians must receive at least once a year and that during the period from Septugesima until the Octave of Pentecost—the Lent-Easter season.  Even then many never received the Sacrament from their first Communion until their deathbeds.  Communions became so rare that they were often separated from Mass with people receiving from the Reserved Sacrament in the Tabernacle before Mass or after Mass.  Indeed it was not rare for there to be no “Communion of the faithful” at Mass, with only the priest receiving.

In such cases those few receiving Holy Communion would present themselves kneeling in one of the smaller chapels of a large church or at a side altar of the main church before or after Mass.  Kneeling became a common practice after the seventh century as the Church more and more stressed the need for penance and demanded of communicants a penitential posture. 

Tourists and pilgrims visiting Rome are often surprised how few churches in the ancient city, and none of the old churches, have communion rails.  That is because of this practice of receiving outside of Mass.  With only four or five people receiving on any occasion—and often as few as one—the communicants would approach the priest one by one, kneel and receive Holy Communion.  The Rite for Communion outside of Mass involved the priest coming to the altar in surplice and stole, the candles being lit at the tabernacle.  The people, or more often the server(s) recited the Confiteor and priest granted the absolution that follows.  The priest then showed the Host to the communicants saying the Ecce Agnus Dei…and the response thrice given “Domine non sum dignus…” The communicants then approached the priest, knelt and received the Host on their tongue as the priest said the “Corpus Domini Jesu Christi…” There was then a final prayer over the communicants.  (There were local variations of this rite but the practice of Communion outside of Mass persisted as the normal form until the Liturgical Reforms of Pius X at the beginning of the 20^th century and was in common use even up to Vatican II.) 

The Protestant reformers tried to restore frequent and universal communion—with mixed results.  Luther had more luck with this than Calvin or with the Anglican Church.  Luther’s liturgical revisions were far less drastic than either Calvin or the English Church’s and much of the Mass appeared very little altered except for the substation of the vernacular for the Latin (though even the Latin persisted in some places, especially for the sung parts of the service).  From sixteenth century woodcuts of Lutheran liturgies we can see the introduction of the rail with communicants kneeling to receive.

Let me back up here for a moment.  Railing the altar in one form or another was nothing new.  At some older churches in Rome, notably Santa Maria in Cosmedin, San Clemente, Santa Sabina, we can see the rails that were erected as early as the sixth century to mark off the space for the choristers and the Sacred Ministers during the liturgy.  These were not Communion rails—they are approximately four-and-a-half feet to six feet high.  They were simply an effort to prevent the crowds from taking over the space around the altar needed for the Ministers to perform the Liturgy.  Similar barriers developed in the East into the Iconostasis.  In the West, particularly in England but also elsewhere, they became choir screens.  The magnificent choir screens of many of the Spanish cathedrals have survived but these are high walls—thirty and forty feet in height. 

During the Catholic Reforms of the fifteenth (Spanish) and sixteenth (Trent) legislation demanding that the altar area be railed off became normative and rails were built around the sanctuary to divide it form the nave. Originally they had nothing to do with the reception of Holy Communion but were to keep out stray animals, wandering children and over-enthusiastic worshippers.  Where these railings survive they are usually about four feet high (too high for communion rails) and without a kneeling step on which the communicants can kneel.  Communion rails were not needed in Catholic Churches since communions were relatively rare and usually conducted away from the main altar before or after Mass.

The Lutheran custom of the rail caught on in both Germany and Scandinavia.  In England there was a conflict.  The Puritan wing of the Church of England, Calvinst in theology, clung to Cranmer’s practice where Holy Communion was celebrated at an ordinary table placed in the chancel.  The communicants were expected to kneel around the table as the priest placed the bread into their hands and then gave them the cup from which to drink.  Frequent communion did not catch on in England at the time.  People would come for Morning Prayer and the Sermon and then leave with only a dozen or so remaining for Holy Communion.  But the efforts of the High Church Party under Archbishop Laud in the early seventeenth century won a significant number of people over to a more Sacramental worship.  The High Church party moved the table from the middle of the chancel or from the nave where Cranmer had put it back to the traditional position against the eastern wall of the Church.  And it introduced communion rails with the communicants kneeling at the rail rather than around the table.  All this was done away with during the Puritan Commonwealth but was restored with the Restoration of the Episcopacy and the Crown in 1660. 

There was a dramatic Reformation of the Catholic Church in France in the seventeenth century.  The French Crown had blocked the promulgation of the Decrees of the Council of Trent for decades but a determined group of French ecclesiastics under the leadership of (later Cardinal) Pierre deBérulle undertook an internal reform of the Church.  Old religious orders were reformed and new religious orders were founded along with the Society of Saint Sulpice to train diocesan clergy.  Francis de Sales preached an everyday spirituality for lay people that brought incredible new energy to the Church.  Great attention was paid to the liturgy and magnificent churches were built.  And in these new churches communion rails appeared.  There were many connections between England and France at this time.  Sizable communities of English Catholics—both lay and religious—had taken refuge in France.  People went back and forth across the channel with regularity.  Many French churchmen had contacts with Church of England clergy and academics.  Many English converts to Catholicism came to France for education in the faith.  England had a French Catholic Queen  from 1625 until 1649.  Catholic chapels were maintained in London by Continental European embassies throughout the sixteenth century except for the years of the Commonwealth.  We can’t say for certain that the communion rail was an import from the Church of England but its appearance in France from where it spread through much of the Catholic world strongly suggests a link.  

That All May Be One

Martin Luther

I saw recently that a joint commission of Bishops and Theologians representing both the Catholic Church in the United States and the Evangelical Lutheran Church In America (ELCA) are forwarding to Rome and to the General Convention of the ELCA) a proposal authorizing Eucharistic sharing between Lutherans and Catholics in recognition of the significant doctrinal agreements that have been reached in the fifty years of Ecumenical dialogue since the Second Vatican Council.

I must admit that I was startled at the proposal.  (“Startled” doesn’t mean that I don’t like it, only that—much like the “Francis Agenda” at the recent Synod on the Family, I am amazed how fast the Church is ready to move in this papacy.)  There are significant issues to be addressed, not the least of which is the Elephant on the Coffee Table of Valid (Apostolic) Orders.  The Catholic Church believes that during the Reformation the Apostolic Succession of the Lutheran hierarchy and ministry was “lost.”   This is a serious question because the authority to preside at the Eucharist, to forgive sins, to confirm, to ordain, and to anoint the sick depend—in Catholic theology—on the minister of the sacrament standing in an unbroken succession of clergy whose ordinations can be traced back to the Apostles.

Now frankly, the Apostolic Succession is a highly complex issue.  Can only bishops ordain priests?  There are historical precedents before the Council of Trent (and I believe there is even one within the century after Trent) where the Catholic Church recognized ordinations conducted by a presbyter (priest).  (Ironically I came across this information about forty years ago in a series of essays by theologians and historians  who were involved in the same Lutheran Catholic dialogue process that is making the recommendation of Eucharistic sharing,)  If priests can validly ordain, then Apostolic Succession has been retained in the Lutheran Church.  Moreover, in some strains of Lutheranism, most notably the Swedish,  the office and ministry of Bishops was maintained in continuity with the pre-Reformation Church.  The argument was made by Catholics that in rejecting the Eucharistic doctrines of the Catholic Church, most notably Transubstantiation and Eucharistic Sacrifice, even those Episcopal Churches in the Lutheran Communion suffered a break in the Apostolic lineage.  But again, things are much more complex.  Recent ecumenical dialogues have established that there is no essential difference between the Catholic formula of Transubstantiation and the Lutheran doctrine of Consubstantiation.   As Catholics are bound to the doctrine of the Real Presence and not essentially to the doctrine of Transubstantiation (which is only one way of explaining the Real Presence) there is quite a bit of room for accord here.  Actually Transubstantiation and Consubstantiation are, at the root, essentially the same when one understands the difference between Thomistic (Scholastic and neo-Scholastic) thought in the Catholic Tradition and the Neo-Platonic or Augustinian philosophy espoused by Luther and the theologians who followed him.  When Luther says that the bread and wine remain bread and wine but Christ is truly Present “in, with, and under” the forms of bread and wine he means what we Catholics mean in saying that whle the “accidents” of bread and wine remain unchanged, their substance is transformed into the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity (and, though we forget to add it, humanity) of Christ.  The physical and chemical properties of bread and wine remain bread and wine. 

While we have come a tremendous distance in a common understanding, I am not hopeful that this proposal will be accepted by Rome.  (I think the ELCA will be all over it like ants at a picnic.)  The highly sensitive issue of Apostolic Orders has not been addressed and a solution has not been found for it.  More important are the unspoken agendas.  Rome, even after Vatican II, can’t seem to move away from an “unconditional surrender” approach to Ecumenism.  With Rome you pretty much have to buy the whole ball of wax and we have some issues here.  We won’t even bring up the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin or purgatory.  Women’s ordination is a stumbling block all of its own.   Katholic Krazies will go berserk about this proposal as the ELCA supports “a woman’s right to choose” as well as Same-Sex marriage.  And of course most of the Krazies just hate ecumenism in general because they get a lot of their energy just from hating. 

In the end it is a huge fuss over nothing.  I see Lutherans and Presbyterians and Episcopalians and even the odd Greek Orthodox coming up the aisle in our Church for Holy Communion every Sunday.  My Methodist sister-in-law even has permission from the local Catholic bishops to receive Holy Communion.  She is at mass with my brother every Sunday.  Used to run the kid’s choir in the parish.  Hardly anyone in town knows that she technically isn’t a Catholic.  And hey—Catholics in the Lutheran Church: I know we aren’t supposed to go to Communion but I’ve seen priests—even fairly uptight ones that like to get all dolled up like Cardinal Burke—kneeling at the Lutheran rail.  Most Catholics don’t have a clue about the prohibition and it wouldn’t stop them if they did.  As in so many ways, the faithful are out in front while the magisterium puts their mitered heads in the sand and the theologians all wriggle and moan like they need a laxative. 

So am I condoning Eucharistic Sharing with Lutherans?  Don’t have to any more than I have to condone the sun coming up in the East.  It is just a fact of life.  Sure the krazies are beside themselves, “goin’ to fight it with everything in me” one writes.  But the words of Jesus remain: ut unum sint.

Now, for another matter.  I am taking a few weeks off while on a secret mission.  keep me in your prayers and I will keep you in mine.