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Confused by Cardinal Ratzinger Statement. Did He Really Say This?

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nyj

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Paul S said:
This last part, "To go to Church on the ground that one can visit God Who is present there is a senseless act which modern man rightfully rejects", just sounds like a complete denial of the Real Presence.

It doesn't sound like that to me. I'm with FullyMT on this. Eucharistic Adoration isn't just about "having a conversation with God", it's about worship. God isn't our peer, some buddy we chat things up with from time to time. Seeing it as a mere conversation is an offense to the principle of Adoration.

Glad to see that we're still discussing the liberal/traditional crud around here. Some people are just never happy. We get a Pope who's as orthodox as they come and all they can do is drudge three darn decades into the past to find something to complain about. Sheesh.

Why aren't we criticizing St. Paul for killing St. Stephen?
 
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nyj said:
Glad to see that we're still discussing the liberal/traditional crud around here. Some people are just never happy. We get a Pope who's as orthodox as they come and all they can do is drudge three darn decades into the past to find something to complain about. Sheesh.

Why aren't we criticizing St. Paul for killing St. Stephen?

I haven't seen anyone criticizing PBXVI, just trying to figure out what he was saying. It's perplexing, at face value. Even the most traditionally oriented folks support him, so I don't see the problem.
 
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D'Ann

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I haven't read through it all yet, but so far it looks good.

http://www.catholicculture.org/docs...cfm?recnum=3920
Ecclesiology Of The Constitution On The Church, Vatican II, 'Lumen Gentium', The



The Ecclesiology Of The Constitution On The Church, Vatican II, 'Lumen Gentium'



By Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger

Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith

At the time of the preparation for the Second Vatican Council and during the Council itself, Cardinal Frings often told me of a small episode, which moved him deeply. Pope John XXIII had not personally decided on themes for the Council, but invited the world's bishops to make their suggestions, so that the subjects to be treated by the Council might emerge from the lived experience of the universal Church. In the German Bishops' Conference, topics were presented for the Council but, not only in Germany but throughout the Catholic Church, it was felt that the theme of the Council should be the Church. The First Vatican Council was unable to complete its ecclesiological synthesis because it had been cut short by the Franco-Prussian War, and had to leave the chapter on the primacy and infallibility of the Roman Pontiff to stand by itself. To offer a comprehensive vision of the Church seemed to be the urgent task of the coming Second Vatican Council. The focus on the Church flowed from the cultural atmosphere of the time. The end of the First World War had brought a profound theological upheaval. Liberal theology with its individualistic orientation was completely eclipsed, and a new sensitivity to the Church had been arising. Not only did Romano Guardini speak of a reawakening of the Church in souls. The Evangelical Bishop Otto Dibelius coined the formula "the century of the Church", and Karl Barth gave to his dogmatic synthesis of the reformed (Calvinist) tradition the programmatic title Kirchliche Dogmatik (Church Dogmatics). He explained that a dogmatic theology presupposes the Church, without the Church it does not exist. Among the members of the German Episcopal Conference there was consequently a broad consensus that the theme of the Council should be the Church.

Speak Of Church Within Discourse On God


But the senior Bishop of Regensburg, Bishop Buchberger, who came to be esteemed and respected far beyond his diocese for having conceived of the 10-volume Lexikon fur Teologie und Kirche, now in its third edition. He asked to speak — as the Archbishop of Cologne told me — and said: "Dear brothers, at the Council you should first of all speak about God. This is the most important theme". The bishops were deeply impressed; they could not ignore the seriousness of his suggestion. Of course, they could not make up their minds simply to propose the theme of God. But an unspoken concern lingered, at least in Cardinal Frings, who continued to ponder how the bishops might satisfy this imperative.

The episode came to mind when I read the text of the conference given by Johann Baptist Metz in 1993 at the time he retired from his chair in Munster. I would like to quote at least a few significant phrases of his important address. Metz says: "The crisis reached by European Christianity is no longer primarily or at least exclusively an ecclesial crisis . . . The crisis is more profound: it is not only rooted in the situation of the Church: the crisis has become a crisis of God. To sum up, one could say 'religion yes', 'God no', where this 'no', in turn, is not meant in the categorical sense of the great forms of atheism. There are no longer any great forms of atheism. Today's atheism can effectively return to speaking of God — distractedly or calmly — without really intending him [his person] . . . Furthermore, the Church has her own concept of immunization against the crisis of God. She no longer speaks today of God — as, for example, she still did at the Second Vatican Council — but only — as she did at the Council — of God proclaimed through the Church. The crisis of God is codified ecclesiologically". Words like this from the mouth of the creator of political theology cannot fail to capture our attention. They rightly remind us that the Second Vatican Council was not only an ecclesiological Council, but that first and foremost, spoke of God, and this not only within Christianity, but to the world, of the God who is the God of all, who saves all and is accessible to all. Perhaps the Second Vatican Council, as Metz seems to say, only accepted half the legacy of the First Vatican Council? Obviously a treatment of the ecclesiology of the Council has to deal with this question.

Basic Thesis


Right now I want to state my basic thesis: the Second Vatican Council clearly wanted to speak of the Church within the discourse on God, to subordinate the discourse on the Church to the discourse on God and to offer an ecclesiology that would be theological in a true sense. Until now, however, the way the Council was received has ignored this qualifying characteristic in favour of individual ecclesiological affirmations; it has highlighted single phrases that are easy to repeat, and has thus fallen away from the broad horizons of the Council Fathers. Something similar can be said about the first text on which the Second Vatican Council focused — the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy. The fact that it was placed at the beginning was basically due to pragmatic motives. But retrospectively, it must be said that it has a deeper meaning within the structure of the Council: adoration comes first. Therefore God comes first. This introduction corresponds to the norm of the Benedictine Rule: Operi Dei nihil praeponatur [Let nothing be placed before the work of God, the divine office]. As the second text of the Council, the Constitution on the Church should be considered as inwardly connected with the text on the liturgy. The Church is guided by prayer, by the mission of glorifying God. By its nature, ecclesiology is connected with the liturgy. It is, therefore, logical that the third Constitution should speak of the Word of God that convokes the Church and renews her in every age. The fourth Constitution shows how the glorification of God is realized in the active life, since the light received from God is carried into the world and only in this way becomes fully the glorification of God. In the history of the post-Conciliar period, the Constitution on the Liturgy was certainly no longer understood from the viewpoint of the basic primacy of adoration, but rather as a recipe book of what we can do with the Liturgy. In the meantime, the fact that the Liturgy is actually "made" for God and not for ourselves, seems to have escaped the minds of those who are busy pondering how to give the Liturgy an ever more attractive and communicable shape, actively involving an ever greater number of people. However the more we make it for ourselves, the less attractive it is, because everyone perceives clearly that the essential focus on God has increasingly been lost.

Partial Interpretations


As regards the ecclesiology of Lumen gentium, certain key words continue to be kept in mind: the idea of the People of God, the collegiality of the bishops as a reappraisal of the bishops' ministry in relation to the primacy of the Pope, the reappraisal of the local Churches in relation to the universal Church, the ecumenical openness of the concept of Church and openness to other religions, lastly, the question of the specific position of the Catholic Church, expressed in the formula which holds that the Church, defined in the Creed as one, holy, catholic and apostolic, subsistit in Ecclesia catholica. For now I will leave the famous formula untranslated, because — as was foreseen — it has received the most contradictory explanations — which range from the idea that it expresses the uniqueness of the Catholic Church united to the Pope to the idea that it expresses the equivalency of the other Christian Churches with the Catholic Church and that the Catholic Church has given up her claim of being distinctive. In the early stages of the reception of the Council, the concept of "People of God" predominated together with the theme of collegiality; the term "people" was understood in terms of ordinary political usage, later in the context of liberation theology it was understood in terms of the Marxist use of the term people as opposed to the dominating classes, and even more widely, in the sense of the sovereignty of the people, which would now finally be applied to the Church. This in turn gave rise to broad discussions about her structures, in which People of God was interpreted, according to the situation, either in a more Western way as "democratization", or in the Eastern European way as "popular democracy". Gradually these "verbal fireworks" (N. Lohfink) around the concept of People of God burned out, on the one hand, and above all because the power games became empty and had to make room for ordinary work in parish councils, and, on the other, because sound theological work has incontrovertibly shown that the politicization of a concept that comes from a totally different context cannot be supported. As a result of his careful exegetic analyses, the exegete of Bocum, Werner Berg, to take one example, states: "Despite the small number of passages that contain the _expression 'People of God', from this point of view 'People of God' is a rare biblical _expression, but nevertheless a common idea emerges: the phrase 'People of God' expresses 'kinship' with God, a relationship with God, the link between God and what is designated as 'People of God', hence a 'vertical orientation'. The _expression lends itself less to describe the hierarchical structure of this community, especially if the 'People of God' is described as a 'counterpart' to the ministers . . . Nor, starting with its biblical significance, does the _expression lend itself to a cry of protest against the ministers: 'We are the People of God'". Josef Meyer zu Schlotern, the professor of fundamental theology of Paderborn, concludes the examination of the discussion about the concept of "People of God" by observing that the Constitution on the Church of the Second Vatican Council ends the pertinent chapter in such a way as "to outline the Trinitarian structure as the foundation of the ultimate definition of the Church . . ." Thus the discussion is led back to the essential point: the Church does not exist for herself, but must be God's instrument, in order to gather man to Himself to prepare for the moment when "God will be all in all" (I Cor 15, 28). It was the concept of God that lost out in the "fireworks" sparked by the _expression, and in this way the _expression, People of God, lost its meaning. In fact, a Church that exists for herself alone is superfluous. And people notice it immediately. The crisis of the Church as it is reflected in the concept of People of God, is a "crisis of God"; it is the consequence of abandoning the essential. What remains is merely a struggle for power. There is enough of this elsewhere in the world, there is no need of the Church for this.

Ecclesiology Of Communion


It can certainly be said that, at the time of the extraordinary Synod of 1985, which was to attempt an evaluation of the 20 years following the Council, there appeared a new effort to sum up conciliar ecclesiology in a basic concept: the ecclesiology of communio. I received this new focus of ecclesiology with joy and did my best to prepare it. Even so, it should be recognized first of all that the word communio does not have a central position in the Council. But if it is properly understood it can serve as a synthesis for the essential elements of conciliar ecclesiology. All of the essential elements of the Christian concept of communio are combined in the famous text of I Jn 1, 3, which can be taken as the criterion for the correct Christian understanding of communion: "That which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you also may have fellowship with us; and our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. And we are writing this that our joy may be complete". Here the starting point of communio is brought to the fore: the encounter with the Son of God, Jesus Christ, who comes to men and women through the Church's proclamation. So there arises communion among human beings, which in turn is based on communio with the Triune God. We have access to communion with God through the realization of the communion of God with man which is Christ in person; the encounter with Christ creates communion with him and thus with the Father in the Holy Spirit; and from this point unites human beings with one another. The purpose of all this is full joy: the Church carries an eschatological dynamic within her. In the words "full joy", we can glimpse a reference to the farewell discourse of Jesus, to the Easter mystery and to the return of the Lord in his Easter appearances, which prepare for his full return in the new world: "You will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice; you will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn into joy . . . I will see you again and your hearts will rejoice . . . ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full" (Jn 16; 20; 22; 24). If the last sentence is compared with Lk 11,13 — the invitation to prayer in Luke — it clearly appears that "joy" and "Holy Spirit" are one and the same, and that the word "joy" in I Jn 1, 3, conceals the Holy Spirit who is not expressly mentioned here. The word communio therefore, based on the biblical context has a theological, Christological, salvation historical and ecclesiological character. It therefore has within it the sacramental dimension which in Paul appears explicitly: "The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ? Because there is one Bread, we who are many are one body . . . " (I Cor 10, 16 f.). The ecclesiology of communion is a profoundly Eucharistic ecclesiology. It is thus very close to the Eucharistic ecclesiology, which Orthodox theologians have developed convincingly in our century. Ecclesiology becomes more concrete and at the same time remains totally spiritual, transcendent and eschatological. In the Eucharist Christ, present in the bread and wine and giving himself ever anew, builds the Church as his body and through his risen body unites us to the Triune God and to one another. The Eucharist is celebrated in different places, and yet at the same time it is universal, because there is only one Christ and only one body of Christ. The Eucharist includes the priestly service of the repraesentatio Christi and thus the network of service, the synthesis of unity and multiplicity, which is already expressed in the word communio. Thus it can be said without a doubt that the concept incorporates an ecclesiological synthesis, which unites the discourse on the Church with the discourse on God and with life from God and with God, a synthesis that takes up all the essential intentions of the Second Vatican Council's ecclesiology and connects them in the right way.

For these reasons I was grateful and pleased when the Synod of 1985 made the concept of communion once again the focus of reflection. However, the years that followed show that no word is safe from misunderstandings, not even the best and most profound.

Partial Interpretations



To the extent that communio became an easy slogan, it was devalued and distorted. As with the concept of "People of God", here too a gradual "horizontalism" should be pointed out, with the giving up of the idea of God. The ecclesiology of communion began to be reduced to the theme of the relationship between the local Church and the universal Church, which in turn degenerated gradually into the problem of the division of the areas of competence between them. Of course, the egalitarian cause, which claimed that there could only be complete equality in communio, was again disseminated. Thus once again the disciples' discussion on who was the greatest became operative, which, of course, will not be settled in any generation. Mark mentions it with the greatest insistence. On the way to Jerusalem, Jesus had spoken for the third time to the disciples about his forthcoming Passion. On arriving in Capernaum he asked them what they had been discussing on the way. "But they were silent", for they had been discussing which of them was the greatest — a sort of discussion of primacy (Mk 9, 33-37). Isn't it still the same today? As the Lord walks towards his Passion, while the Church, he himself within her, is suffering, we reflect on our favourite theme, the discussion of our rights of precedence. And if he were to come among us and ask us what we were discussing along the way, how embarrassed and silent we would have to be!

This does not mean that the Church should not also discuss the proper order and designation of responsibilities; and naturally, imbalances will always be found in her that will require correction. Of course, there can be an excessive Roman centralism, which must be identified and purified. But such matters cannot detract from the Church's true task: the Church must not speak primarily of herself but of God; and only in order that this may happen with integrity, there are also certain intra-ecclesial criticisms for which the connecting of her discourse on God and on common service must provide the proper direction. Finally, it is not by accident that what Jesus said about the last becoming first and the first becoming last returns in various contexts of the evangelical tradition — as a mirror, that always reflects everyone.

CDF Letter On Communion



To confront the reduction of the concept of communio which has taken place since 1985, the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith saw fit to prepare a Letter to the Bishops of the Catholic Church on "Some Aspects of the Church Understood as Communion", which was published on 28 June 1992.

Since it now seems to have become obligatory for theologians who want to make a big name for themselves to offer a negative appraisal of the documents of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, theologians created a storm of criticism over it from which it could hardly recover. It was the sentence that said that the universal Church is a reality that in its essential mystery is logically and ontologically prior to the particular Churches that was singled out for criticism. In the text, this was supported concisely by recalling that, according to the Fathers, the Church, which is one and unique precedes creation and gives birth to the particular Churches (n. 9). Thus the Fathers take up a rabbinical theology which had conceived of the Torah and Israel as pre-existent: creation was considered to be so conceived that there would be room in it for God's will; but this would require a people who would live in accord with God's will and make it the light of the world. Since the Fathers were convinced of the ultimate identity between the Church and Israel, they could not see in the Church something that took place by chance at the last hour, but recognized in the gathering of the peoples in accord with God's will, the internal purpose of creation. The image is broadened and deepened on the basis of Christology: history — again in relation to the Old Testament — is explained as a love story between God and man. God finds and prepares a bride for his Son, the single bride who is the unique Church. Starting from the word of Genesis, that the man and his wife will become "one flesh" (Gn 2, 24), the image of the bride is united with the idea of the Church as the body of Christ, a metaphor, which in turn comes from the Eucharistic liturgy. The one body of Christ is prepared; Christ and the Church will be two "in one flesh", one body and thus "God will be all in all". This ontological precedence of the universal Church, the one Church, the one body, the one bride, over the concrete empirical realizations in the particular Churches seems to me so obvious that I find it hard to understand the objections to it. Indeed it seems to me that they are only possible if one does not want to see, or no longer succeeds in seeing, the great Church conceived by God — perhaps out of desperation at her earthly inadequacy —; she now appears as a theological fancy, so all that remains is the empirical image of the Church in the mutual relations and conflicts of the particular Churches. But this means that the Church as a theological subject has been obliterated. If from now on the Church can only be recognized in her human organization, then, in fact, all that is left is desolation. But then one has not only abandoned the ecclesiology of the Fathers, but also that of the New Testament and the conception of Israel in the Old Testament. In the New Testament, however, it is not necessary to wait for the Deutero-Pauline Epistles and the Apocalypse to find the ontological priority — reaffirmed by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith — of the universal Church in relation to the particular Churches. In the heart of the great Pauline letters, in the Letter to the Galatians, the Apostle does not speak to us of the heavenly Jerusalem as of a great eschatological reality, but as of one that precedes us: "But the Jerusalem above is our mother" (Gal 4, 26). In this regard, H. Schlier points out that for Paul, as for the Jewish tradition from which he draws inspiration, the heavenly Jerusalem is the new aeon. However, for the Apostle, this new aeon is already present "in the Christian Church. This is for him the heavenly Jerusalem in her children".

Lucan Vision Of The Church


Even though the ontological priority of the one Church cannot seriously be denied, the question concerning her temporal priority is certainly more difficult. The Letter of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith is referring here to the Lucan image of the birth of the Church at Pentecost through the work of the Holy Spirit. There is no intention to discuss the question of the historical aspect of this account. What matters is the theological affirmation, which Luke has at heart. The Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith called attention to the fact that the Church began in the community of the 120 gathered around Mary, especially in the renewed community of the Twelve, who are not members of a local Church, but the Apostles who will take the Gospel to the ends of the earth. As a further clarification, one can add that in their number, 12, they are both the old and the new Israel, the one Israel of God, which now — as at the outset was fundamentally contained in the concept of the People of God, is extended to all the nations and founds the unique People of God among all peoples. This reference is reinforced by two other elements: the Church at the time of her birth already speaks all languages. The Fathers of the Church have rightly interpreted this account of the miracle of tongues as an anticipation of the Catholica — the Church from the very first moment is oriented kat'holon — she embraces the whole universe. The counterpart to this is Luke's description of the multitude of those who listened as pilgrims coming from all over the earth on the basis of the table of 12 peoples, by which he intends to allude to the all-inclusiveness of the hearers. Luke has enriched this Hellenistic table of peoples with a 13th name: the Romans, with which he doubtless wanted to stress once more the idea of the Orbis. The precise meaning of the text of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith is not fully conveyed when a German theologian says of it that the original community of Jerusalem was in fact the universal Church and the local Church at the same time, and then continues: "This certainly represents a Lucan elaboration, in fact, in the historical perspective presumably several communities existed from the very start, with communities in Galilee alongside the community of Jerusalem". Here it is not a matter of the question, ultimately insoluble for us, of when and exactly where Christian communities came into being for the first time, but of the interior beginning of the Church, which Luke wants to describe and which he attributes, over and apart from any empirically verifiable fact, to the power of the Holy Spirit. However it does not do justice to the Lucan account to say that the original community of Jerusalem was simultaneously the universal Church and the local Church. The first reality in St Luke's account is not an indigenous community of Jerusalem; rather, the first reality is that in the Twelve, the old Israel, which is unique, becomes the new one, and this one Israel of God, through the miracle of tongues, even before it becomes the representation of the local Church of Jerusalem, is now revealed as a unity that embraces all time and places. In the pilgrims present who came from all countries, it immediately encompasses all the peoples of the world. Perhaps it is not necessary to overemphasize the question of the temporal priority of the universal Church, which Luke clearly presents in his account. What is important is that at the beginning the Church is generated in the Twelve by the one Spirit for all peoples, hence even from the first moment she is directed to being in all cultures, and thus to being the one People of God: she is not a local community that grows gradually, but the leaven that is always destined to permeate the whole, and consequently, embodies universality from the first instant.

Resistance to the affirmations of the pre-eminence of the universal Church in relation to the particular Churches is difficult to understand and even impossible to understand theologically. It only becomes understandable on the basis of a suspicion: "The formula becomes totally problematic if the one universal Church is tacitly identified with the Roman Church, de facto with the Pope and the Curia. If this occurs, then the Letter of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith cannot be understood as an aid to the clarification of the ecclesiology of communion, but must be understood as its abandonment and an endeavour to restore the centralism of Rome". In this text the identification of the universal Church with the Pope and the Curia is first introduced as a hypothesis, as a risk, but then seems de facto to have been attributed to the Letter of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, which thus appears as a kind of theological restoration, thereby diverging from the Second Vatican Council. This interpretative leap is surprising, but obviously represents a widespread suspicion; it gives voice to an accusation heard everywhere, and expresses succinctly a growing inability to portray anything concrete under the name of universal Church, under the elements of the one, holy, catholic of the Church. The Pope and the Curia are the only elements that can be identified, and if one exalts them inordinately from the theological point of view, it is understandable that some may feel threatened.

Council On The Universal Church


Thus we find ourselves concretely, after what is only apparently an excursus, facing the question of the interpretation of the Council. We now ask the following question: what really was the idea of the Council on the universal Church? It cannot be rightly said that the Letter of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith tacitly identifies the universal Church with the Roman Church, or de facto with the Pope and the Curia. The temptation to do so arises if at the start the local Church of Jerusalem and the universal Church had already been identified, that is, if the concept of Church has been reduced to that of the communities that are empirically discernible, and if one has lost sight of its theological depth. It is helpful to return with these questions to the text of the Council itself. The first sentence of the Constitution on the Church immediately explains that the Council does not consider the Church as a reality closed in on herself, but sees her in a Christological perspective: "Christ is the light of the nations; and it is, accordingly, the heartfelt desire of this sacred Council, being gathered together in the Holy Spirit, that ... the light of Christ, reflected on the face of the Church, may enlighten all men". With this background we can understand the image used in the theology of the Fathers, who see the Church as the moon that does not shine with its own light, but reflects the light of Christ the sun. Ecclesiology is shown to be dependent upon Christology and connected with it. But since no one can speak correctly of Christ, of the Son, without at the same time speaking of the Father, and, since it is impossible to speak correctly of the Father and the Son without listening to the Holy Spirit, the Christological vision of the Church necessarily expands to become a Trinitarian ecclesiology (Lumen gentium, nn. 2-4). The discourse on the Church is a discourse on God, and only in this way is it correct. In this Trinitarian ouverture, which offers the key to a correct interpretation of the whole text, we learn what the one, holy Church is, starting with and in all her concrete historical phenomena, and what "universal Church" should mean. This is further explained when we are subsequently shown the Church's inner dynamism towards the kingdom of God. Precisely because the Church is to be theologically understood, she is always transcending herself; she is the gathering for the kingdom of God, the breaking-in of the kingdom. Then the different images of the Church are briefly presented, which all describe the unique Church, whether she is described as the bride, the house of God, his family, the temple, the holy city, our mother, the Jerusalem which is above or God's flock, etc. This, ultimately, becomes even more concrete. We are given a very practical answer to the question: what is this, this one universal Church which ontologically and temporally precedes the local Churches? Where is she? Where can we see her act?

Baptism And Eucharist


The Constitution answers, speaking to us of the sacraments. First comes Baptism: it is a Trinitarian event, in other words, totally theological, far more than a socialization bound up with the local Church; this, unfortunately, is a common distortion. Baptism does not derive from the local community; rather through Baptism the door of the one Church is opened to us, it is the presence of the one Church and can only flow from her, from the heavenly Jerusalem, from the new mother. In this regard, the well known ecumenist, Vinzenz Pfnur, recently said: "Baptism is being incorporated into the 'one' body of Christ, opened up for us through the Cross (Eph 2,16), in which we ... are all baptized by means of the one Spirit (I Cor 12,13), that is, it is essentially more than the baptismal announcement in use in many places: "we have received into our community . . . " We come to belong to this one body through Baptism, "which should not be replaced by membership in a local Church. The 'one' bride and the 'one' episcopate also belong to it . . . in which one participates, according to Cyprian, only within the communion of bishops". In Baptism the universal Church continuously precedes the local Church and builds her. Because of this, the Letter of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith on communio can say that there are no strangers in the Church: everyone is at home everywhere, and is not just a guest. The Church is always the one Church, one and the same. Whoever is baptized in Berlin, is as much at home in the Church in Rome or New York or Kinshasa or Bangalore or in any other place, as he is in the Church where he was baptized. He does not have to register for Baptism again, the Church is one. Baptism comes from her and gives birth within her. Whoever speaks of Baptism, speaks of, and, by that very fact, treats of the Word of God, which for the whole Church is only one and continuously precedes her in all places, summons her and builds her up. This Word is above the Church, yet it is in her, entrusted to her as a living subject. To be effectively present in history, the Word needs this subject, but this subject on her part does not subsist without the vital life-giving force of the Word, which first makes her a subject. When we speak of the Word of God, we also mean the Creed, which is at the heart of the baptismal event; it is also the way in which the Church receives the Word and makes it her own, in a certain way it is a word and also a response. Here too, the universal Church, the one Church, is present in a concrete way, and can be perceived as such.

The conciliar text passes from Baptism to the Eucharist, in which Christ gives his body and thus makes us his body. This body is one, and so again forevery local Church the Eucharist is the place of incorporation into the one Christ, the becoming-one of all communicants in the universal communio, which unites heaven and earth, the living and the dead, past, present and future, and opens up into eternity. The Eucharist is not born from the local Church and does not end in her. It continuously shows that Christ comes to us from outside, through our closed doors; the Church comes to us continuously from outside, from the total, unique body of Christ and leads us into it. This extra nos of the sacrament is also revealed in the ministry of the Bishop and of the priest: the truth that the Eucharist needs the sacrament of priestly service is founded precisely in the fact that the community cannot give itself the Eucharist; it must receive it from the Lord through the mediation of the one Church. Apostolic succession, which constitutes the priestly ministry, Implies at the same time the synchronic aspect and diachronic aspects of the concept of Church: belonging to the whole history of the faith from the Apostles and being in communion with all who let themselves be gathered by the Lord in his body. The Constitution on the Church has notably treated the episcopal ministry in chapter three, and explained its meaning starting with the fundamental concept of the collegium. This concept, which only marginally appears in tradition, serves to illustrate the interior unity of the episcopal ministry. The bishop is not a bishop as an individual, but by belonging to a body, a college, which in turn represents the historical continuity of the collegium Apostolorum. In this sense, the episcopal ministry derives from the one Church and leads into it. Precisely here it becomes evident that there is no opposition between the local Church and the universal Church. The Bishop represents the one Church in the local Church, and builds up the one Church while he builds up the local Church and awakens her particular gifts for the benefit of the whole body. The ministry of the Successor of Peter is a particular form of episcopal ministry connected in a special way with responsibility for the unity of the whole Church. But Peter's ministry and responsibility would not even be able to exist had the universal Church not existed first. In fact he would have been moving in a void and representing an absurd claim. Without a doubt the right relationship between episcopate and primacy must be continuously rediscovered, even through hard work and suffering. However, this quest is only correctly formulated when it is seen in relation to the primacy of the Church's specific mission and, in every age, when it is oriented to and subordinated to it: that is, to the duty to bring God to men and men to God. The Church's goal is the Gospel, around which everything else must revolve.

'Subsistit In': Church Of Christ 'Subsists In' Catholic Church


At this point I would like to interrupt my analysis of the concept of communio and at least briefly take a stance regarding the most disputed point of Lumen gentium: the meaning of the disputed sentence of Lumen gentium, n. 8, which teaches that the unique Church of Christ, which we confess in the Creed as one, holy, catholic and apostolic, "subsists" in the Catholic Church, which is governed by the Successor of Peter and by the bishops in communion with him. In 1985 the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith was forced to adopt a position with regard to this text, because of a book by Leonardo Boff in which he supported the idea that the one Church of Christ as she subsists in the Roman Catholic Church could also subsist in other Christian Churches. It is superfluous to say that the statement of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith was met with stinging criticism and then later put aside.

In the attempt to reflect on where we stand today in the reception of the Council's ecclesiology, the question of the interpretation of the subsistit is inevitable, and on this subject the post-conciliar Magisterium's single official pronouncement, that is, the Notification I just mentioned, cannot be ignored. Looking back from the perspective of 15 years, it emerges more clearly that it was not so much the question of a single theological author, but of a vision of the Church that was put forward in a variety of ways and which is still current today. The clarification of 1985 presented the context of Boff's thesis at great length. We do not need to examine these details further, because we have something more fundamental at heart. The thesis, which at the time had Boff as its proponent, could be described as ecclesiological relevatism. It finds its justification in the theory that the "historical Jesus" would not as such have conceived the idea of a Church, nor much less have founded one. The Church, as a historical reality, would have only come into existence after the resurrection, on account of the loss of the eschatological tension towards the immediate coming of the kingdom, caused in its turn by the inevitable sociological needs of institutionalization. In the beginning, a universal Catholic Church would certainly not have existed, but only different local Churches with different theologies, different ministers, etc. No institutional Church could, therefore, say that she was that one Church of Jesus Christ desired by God himself; all institutional forms thus stem from sociological needs and as such are human constructions which can and even must be radically changed again in new situations. In their theological quality they are only different in a very secondary way, so one might say that in all of them or at least in many, the "one Church of Christ" subsists; with regard to this hypothesis the question naturally arises: in this vision, what right does one have to speak at all of the one Church of Christ?

Instead, Catholic tradition has chosen another starting point: it puts its confidence in the Evangelists and believes in them. It is obvious then that Jesus who proclaimed the kingdom of God would gather disciples around him for its realization; he not only gave them his Word as a new interpretation of the Old Testament, but in the sacrament of the Last Supper he gave them the gift of a new unifying centre, through which all who profess to be Christians can become one with him in a totally new way, so that Paul could designate this communion as being one body with Christ, as the unity of one body in the Spirit. It then becomes obvious that the promise of the Holy Spirit was not a vague announcement but brought about the reality of Pentecost, hence the fact that the Church was not conceived of and established by men, but created by means of the Holy Spirit, whose creation she is and continues to be.

As a result, however, the institution and the Spirit have a very different relationship in the Church than that which the trends of thought I just mentioned would like to suggest to us. The institution is not merely a structure that can be changed or demolished at will, which would have nothing to do with the reality of faith as such. This form of bodiliness [body of Christ] belongs to the Church herself. Christ's Church is not hidden invisibly behind the manifold human configurations, but really exists, as a true and proper Church, which is manifest in the profession of faith, in the sacraments and in apostolic succession.

The Second Vatican Council, with the formula of the subsistit — in accord with Catholic tradition — wanted to teach the exact opposite of "ecclesiological relativism": the Church of Jesus Christ truly exists. He himself willed her, and the Holy Spirit has continuously created her since Pentecost, in spite of being faced with every human failing, and sustains her in her essential identity. The institution is not an inevitable but theologically unimportant or even harmful externalization, but belongs in its essential core to the concrete character of the Incarnation. The Lord keeps his word: "The gates of hell shall not prevail against her".

Council: 'Subsistit In' Explains Church As Concrete Subject


At this point it becomes necessary to investigate the word subsistit somewhat more carefully. With this _expression, the Council differs from the formula of Pius XII, who said in his Encyclical Mystici Corporis Christi: "The Catholic Church "is" (est) the one mystical body of Christ". The difference between subsistit and est conceals within itself the whole ecumenical problem. The word subsistit derives from the ancient philosophy as later developed in Scholastic philosophy. The Greek word hypostasis that has a central role in Christology to describe the union of the divine and the human nature in the Person of Christ comes from that vision. Subsistere is a special case of esse. It is being in the form of a subject who has an autonomous existence. Here it is a question precisely of this. The Council wants to tell us that the Church of Jesus Christ as a concrete subject in this world can be found in the Catholic Church. This can take place only once, and the idea that the subsistit could be multiplied fails to grasp precisely the notion that is being intended. With the word subsistit, the Council wished to explain the unicity of the Catholic Church and the fact of her inability to be multiplied: the Church exists as a subject in historical reality.

The difference between subsistit and est however contains the tragedy of ecclesial division. Although the Church is only one and "subsists" in a unique subject, there are also ecclesial realities beyond this subject — true local Churches and different ecclesial communities. Because sin is a contradiction, this difference between subsistit and est cannot be fully resolved from the logical viewpoint. The paradox of the difference between the unique and concrete character of the Church, on the one hand, and, on the other, the existence of an ecclesial reality beyond the one subject, reflects the contradictory nature of human sin and division. This division is something totally different from the relativistic dialectic described above in which the division of Christians loses its painful aspect and in fact is not a rupture, but only the manifestation of multiple variations on a single theme, in which all the variations are in a certain way right and wrong. An intrinsic need to seek unity does not then exist, because in any event the one Church really is everywhere and nowhere. Thus Christianity would actually exist only in the dialectic correlation of various antitheses. Ecumenism consists in the fact that in some way all recognize one another, because all are supposed to be only fragments of Christian reality. Ecumenism would therefore be the resignation to a relativistic dialectic, because the Jesus of history belongs to the past and the truth in any case remains hidden.

The vision of the Council is quite different: the fact that in the Catholic Church is present the subsistit of the one subject the Church, is not at all the merit of Catholics, but is solely God’s work, which he makes endure despite the continuous unworthiness of the human subjects. They cannot boast of anything, but can only admire the fidelity of God, with shame for their sins and at the same time great thanks. But the effect of their own sins can be seen: the whole world sees the spectacle of the divided and opposing Christian communities, reciprocally making their own claims to truth and thus clearly frustrating the prayer of Christ on the eve of his Passion. Whereas division as a historical reality can be perceived by each person, the subsistence of the one Church in the concrete form of the Catholic Church can be seen as such only through faith.

Since the Second Vatican Council was conscious of this paradox, it proclaimed the duty of ecumenism as a search for true unity, and entrusted it to the Church of the future.

Conclusion: Call To Holiness

I come to my conclusion. Anyone who desires to understand the approach of the Council's ecclesiology cannot ignore chapters 4-7 of the Constitution, which speak of the laity, the universal call to holiness, religious, and the eschatological orientation of the Church. In these chapters the intrinsic purpose once again comes to the fore: that is, all that is most essential to her existence: it is a question of holiness, of conformity to God, that there be room in the world for God, that he dwell in it and thus that the world become his "kingdom". Holiness is something more than a moral quality. It is the dwelling of God with men, and of men with God, God's "tent" among us and in our midst (Jn 1,14). It is the new birth — not of flesh and blood, but of God (Jn 1, 13). The movement toward holiness is identical with the eschatological movement and indeed, from the standpoint of Jesus' message, is now fundamental to the Church. The Church exists so that she may become God's dwelling place in the world and thus be "holiness": it is this for which one should compete in the Church — not for a given rank in rights of precedence, or for occupying the first places. All this is taken up and formed into a synthesis in the last chapter of the Constitution, which presents Mary, the Mother of the Lord.

Marian Vision


At first sight the insertion of Mariology in ecclesiology, which the Council decided upon, could seem somewhat accidental. In fact it is true, from the historical viewpoint that a rather small majority of the Fathers voted for the inclusion of Mariology. But from the inner logic of their vote, their decision corresponds perfectly to the movement of the whole Constitution: only if this correlation is grasped, can one correctly grasp the image of the Church, which the Council wished to portray. In this decision the research of Hugo Rahner, A Muller, R Laurentin and Karl Delahaye played a great part, and thanks to them Mariology and ecclesiology were both renewed and more deeply expounded. Hugo Rahner, in particular, showed in a magnificent way from the sources that Mariology in its entirety was first thought of and established by the Fathers as ecclesiology: the Church is virgin and mother, she was conceived without sin and bears the burden of history, she suffers and yet is taken up into heaven. Very slowly there develops later the notion that the Church is anticipated in Mary, she is personified in Mary and that vice versa Mary is not an isolated individual closed in on herself, but carries within her the whole mystery of the Church. The person is not closed individualistically nor is the community understood as a collectivity in an impersonal way: both inseparably overlap. This already applies to the woman in the Apocalypse, as she appears in chapter 12: it is not right to limit this figure exclusively and individualistically to Mary, because in her we contemplate together the whole People of God, the old and new Israel, which suffers and is fruitful in suffering; nor is it right to exclude from this image Mary, the Mother of the Redeemer. Thus the overlapping of individual and community, as we find it in this text, anticipates the identification of Mary and the Church that was gradually developed in the theology of the Fathers and finally taken up by the Council. The fact that the two were later separated, that Mary was seen as an individual filled with privileges and therefore infinitely beyond our reach where the Church in turn [was seen] in an impersonal and purely institutional manner, has caused equal damage to both Mariology and Ecclesiology. Here are active the divisions brought about by Western thought in particular, and which otherwise would have their own good reasons. But if we want to understand the Church and Mary properly, we must go back to the time before these divisions, in order to understand the supra-individual nature of the person and the supra-institutional nature of the community, precisely where person and community are taken back to their origins, grounded in the power of the Lord, the new Adam. The Marian vision of the Church and the ecclesial, salvation-historical vision of Mary take us back ultimately to Christ and to the Trinitarian God, because it is here that we find revealed what holiness means, what is God's dwelling in man and in the world, what we should understand by the "eschatological" tension of the Church. Thus it is only the chapter on Mary that leads conciliar ecclesiology to its fulfillment and brings us back to its Christological and Trinitarian starting point.

To give a taste of the Fathers' theology, I would like as a conclusion to propose a text of St Ambrose, chosen by Hugo Rahner: "So stand on the firm ground of your heart! . . . What standing means, the Apostle taught us, Moses wrote it: The place on which you stand is holy ground'. No one stands except the one who stands firm in the faith . . . and yet another word is written: 'But you, stand firm with me'. You stand firm with me, if you stand in the Church. The Church is holy ground on which we must stand . . . So stand firm, stand in the Church, stand there, where I want to appear to you. There I will stay beside you. Where the Church is, there is the stronghold of your heart. On the Church are laid the foundations of your soul. Indeed I appeared to you in the Church as once in the burning bush. You are the bush; I am the fire. Like the fire in the bush I am in your flesh. I am fire to enlighten you; to burn away the thorns of your sins, to give you the favour of my grace."

© L'Osservatore Romano, Editorial and Management Offices, Via del Pellegrino, 00120, Vatican City,
 
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D'Ann

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Cardinal Ratzinger’s theology is not “derivative,” but
original and seminal, covering a vast range
of subjects with refreshing clarity, insight and optimism.


A question of fairness

By Vincent Twomey

Cardinal Ratzinger is perhaps the most controversial figure in the Church today, a subject awaiting an author. Various articles about him have appeared, but no book, until the recent appearance of that by John L. Allen, Jr., Vatican correspondent for the National Catholic Reporter.1 Is it fair to Ratzinger? As a former student of the Cardinal, I must admit to having some serious misgivings.

This book, Cardinal Ratzinger: The Vatican’s Enforcer of the Faith (Continuum, 2000), is a strange mixture, part early biography (ch. 1-3), part chronicle of some major controversies (4-6), part judgment on Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger’ s performance as “enforcer of the faith” and his chances at becoming future pope (7-8). Towards the end of the book, Allen describes the Cardinal as “in most ways the best and brightest the Catholic church of his generation has to offer, a musician and man of culture, a genteel intellectual and polyglot, a deep true believer” (p. 313). Yet, Allen adds, he has left in his wake a fractured Church. The “yet” (or its equivalent) well typifies Allen’s account of Ratzinger’s position on various theological and ecclesiastical issues, which is often concise, though lacking any great depth or insight, but in the final analysis is negated by some “fault” or other. In his concluding chapter, he also offers his readers a succinct summary of the main points of what he considers to be of enduring value that remained with him after reading Ratzinger for over a year (pp. 303-6). Anyone skeptical of Allen might first read this to be assured of his good faith. So too, Allen’s accounts of various major controversies, in particular the chapter on liberation theology, are invariably interesting. How accurate they are is another matter, but the author generally tries to be fair and balanced. The crucial question is: to what extent does he succeed?

For Ratzinger, in the final analysis, remains for Allen the bogeyman that frightens most liberals, the main source of division and demoralization in the contemporary Church. He is the power-wielding churchman whose later theological views, in contrast with his earlier “liberal” stance, has had the effect, inter alia, of “legitimizing the concentration of power in the hands of the pope and his immediate advisors in the Roman curia” (p. 309). In other words, despite all his efforts to be fair, and Allen does make considerable efforts in that direction, the Cardinal remains the ogre.

Take, for example, Allen’s account of the liberation theology saga culminating in its effective defeat as a result in large measure of Ratzinger’s theological analysis and, more importantly, it is claimed, his ecclesiastical, political machinations. This account is not without its merits, but one’s confidence in Allen’s historical judgment is placed under severe strain, when he blames the Cardinal for the failure of Latin American Catholicism to create a social order that better reflects gospel values, namely less inequality between rich and poor (cf. p. 173). One could reasonably argue that more might have been accomplished at the political level in Latin America, if liberation theologians had at the outset not been so skeptical of either Catholic social teaching or the political potential of indigenous cultural traditions of piety they later rediscovered, but that is another issue.

Allen claims that Ratzinger’s attitude to other religions is negative, yet he fails to note, for example, that the Patriarch of Constantinople awarded Professor Ratzinger the Golden Cross of Mount Athos for his contribution to a greater understanding between Catholicism and Orthodoxy. Later on, as Cardinal, he joined his former students at the Orthodox center near Geneva for a most amicable and fruitful discussion with representatives of the Greek Orthodox Church, whose tradition he frequently cites. Allen seems not to know anything about the Cardinal’s role in helping to establish diplomatic relations between the Vatican and Israel. And not a word is heard of his defense of Islam from the blanket charge of fundamentalism (cf. A Turning Point for Europe?, p.165-70) or his appreciation of the significance of primordial religious rituals and myths, as found, e.g. in the Hindu tradition (cf. ITQ 65/2, 2000, 257).

But it is above all in Allen’s attempt to write a life of Cardinal Ratzinger (ch. 1-3), that the distorting effect of what seems to be the liberal’s underlying fear of the bogeyman can be seen. The main tendency in these opening chapters, it would appear, is to find an explanation for the transmutation into the “enforcer of the faith” of the earlier “liberal” Ratzinger, the young and promising theologian, who as peritus to Cardinal Frings, played such an important role at the Second Vatican Council.

Joseph Ratzinger grew up in the shadow of Nazi Germany within a family that was decidedly anti-Nazi and a Church that was hostile to Hitler — though perhaps not as publicly defiant as a later generation, that did not live in those circumstances, might claim that it should have been. That experience undoubtedly had an influence on Ratzinger, as he himself expressly said. But the claim that “Ratzinger today believes that the best antidote to political totalitarianism is ecclesial totalitarianism” (p. 3), however appealing as a sound bite, does not stand up to scrutiny. It is, however, the leitmotif of the whole book. According to Cardinal Ratzinger himself, on the contrary, the best antidote to totalitarianism is the upright conscience typically associated with the poor and the weak (cf. Church, Ecumenism and Politics, p. 165-80). And the role of the Church, he once affirmed, is primarily educational — understood in the spirit of the Greek philosophers who sought “. . . to break open the prison of positivism and awaken man’s receptivity to the truth, to God, and thus to the power of conscience. . . .” (A Turning Point for Europe?, p. 55). Though of central importance to Cardinal Ratzinger, both as a man and as a theologian, the primacy of conscience is not even mentioned by Allen.

More serious are insinuations about the supposed failure of Ratzinger’s own family to show more overt opposition to Nazi terror. Such a judgment shows little understanding of what living in a reign of terror involves, especially for a policeman and his young family (one is reminded of the film Life is Beautiful). Failing to note the fleeting and sketchy nature of such recollections, and unaware of other autobiographical references to that time (cf., e.g., Dolentium Hominum, no. 34, 1997, p. 17), Allen claims that Ratzinger tends to be selective in his own memory of those times. To prove that Ratzinger’s positive appraisal of the role of the Catholic Church at the time was “one-sided and even distorted in its emphasis on the moral courage of the church, at the expense of an honest reckoning with its failures” (p. 30), Allen claims that “Hitler came to power on the back of Catholic support” (p. 27). This is a serious misinterpretation of events. Allen gives no source for this or similar doubtful interpretations of events. (Indeed, his failure to give his sources is a major weakness of the book.) It would seem that here Allen is following some very biased reading of the historical events. But the reader is left with the vague, overall impression that Cardinal Ratzinger must be hiding something, or at least temporarily repressed it. And so, a shadow is cast over his youth in preparation for the emergence of the full-blown ogre in later life.

It is a cliché in popular theological circles to distinguish between the early and the late Ratzinger. He himself maintains that there is a basic continuity in his theology, a continuity that is not inconsistent with significant changes in perspective, even at times contradicting isolated claims he made in his theological youth. He has acknowledged, for example, a significant development in his eschatology. After all, “[T]o live is to change. . . .” Is it too much to suggest that the changes in his thinking might best be interpreted as signs of maturity, of further reflection due to changing circumstances and broader experience, especially as Prefect of the Congregation? His youthful enthusiasm for collegiality, for example, led to a reappraisal of the institution of national Episcopal Conferences in the light of his own personal experience in such conferences and as a result of his further theological reflection. He also noted the failure of the German bishops during the Nazi period to act more decisively and effectively because of collective responsibility.

Instead, Allen attributes a radical change from “erstwhile liberal” to the conservative “enforcer of the faith” to four causes: the 1968 student unrest, perceptions of decline in church attendance and vocations, too much exposure to Catholic faith at its most distorted, and, finally, power. The student unrest in the late ‘60s did have a profound effect on anyone who lived through that turbulent period, and he himself has on occasion referred to this, though it seems to me that his reflections on this period make use of ideas he had already formed in his earlier writings. It is doubtful if the decline in church numbers could have had such a radical effect on him. At a discussion of precisely this topic during a meeting of his former students, he once remarked that the sin for which David was most severely punished by the Lord was not his adultery or the murder of Bathsheba’s husband, but the census, the king’s attempt to number the people of God. Thirdly, his exposure as Prefect to the “pathology of the faith,” as Allen calls it, is more than offset by his own wide reading in the Fathers, contemporary theology, and philosophy, not to mention literature. His scholarly disposition to read and research finds due _expression in various scholarly and general publications, the most recent being The Spirit of the Liturgy earlier last year (also not mentioned by Allen). And so one is left with the final “cause”: power. To suggest that the lust for power played a central role in any supposed “change of heart” that Professor Ratzinger revised his theology to advance his career, is (to put it mildly) mistaken, since his theological shift was manifest long before he went to Rome.

It should be mentioned that Ratzinger was never a student of Rahner, as Allen, quoting Wiltgen, claims. Nor was his move to Regensburg made in order to separate himself “intellectually from hitherto close colleagues like Küng and even his old ally, Rahner,” as Adrian Hastings in a review of this book claims. Rahner at the time was at Münster, not Tübingen. The main reason for Ratzinger’s decision to leave such a prestigious university was to escape the turmoil among students and on the faculty in Tübingen, and thus be able to devote himself completely to scholarship in his native Bavaria. This was told to me by Professor Kevin McNamara, Maynooth, in 1970 — information that led to my going to Regensburg for postgraduate studies instead of Tübingen. Later, some of Ratzinger’s doctoral students and assistants at Tübingen confirmed this. (He also had personal, more familial reasons.) Incidentally, Rahner was invited by Ratzinger to be a guest speaker at one of the end-of-semester doctoral colloquia in Regensburg. To the best of my knowledge, their theological differences (which were profound) predate Ratzinger’s appointment to Tübingen. Such differences did not dull his respect for Rahner.

His so-called “change of heart” in theology, it is claimed, is reflected in the two Schülerkreise (not Studentenkreise, the term Allen uses) he is supposed to have built up: those from his years in Bonn, Münster, and Tübingen and those from his years in Regensburg, “the latter group theologically at odds with the former” (p. 104). This division “underlines the gap between Ratzinger before and after the Council.” I am mentioned as an example of the latter group. Allen seems to have conducted fairly extensive interviews with two students of the “earlier Ratzinger,” but only spoke briefly on the phone to one of the “later Ratzinger”, Fr. Joseph Fessio, S.J. Considering the number of postgraduate students who studied under Ratzinger (somewhere between 40 and 50), this is slim evidence on which to base such a far-reaching thesis. It is a pity that the author did not consult the comprehensive report on the doctoral colloquium and the later Schülerkreis by his former Assistant, Professor Stephan O. Horn, SDS (cf. Alla scuola della Verità, Milan, 1997, pp. 9-26). Allen is wrong on several details, such as describing me as a spokesman for the Archbishop of Dublin (untrue) and citing extracts from my writings, especially that from my thesis, without any regard for the context. And he erroneously makes Cardinal Schönborn a student of Ratzinger’s, devoting several pages to the present Archbishop of Vienna to illustrate the “later Ratzinger” (While a visiting scholar in Regensburg, Schönborn joined our colloquium for two semesters, as did other visitors. It was only after Ratzinger’s elevation as Archbishop of Munich, that Professor Schönborn became one of a number of regular guests at the annual meetings of the Schülerkreis.

It is, further, misleading to say that Ratzinger “built-up” two distinct circles of students. There was never more than one, though its composition evidently changed with its members. Indeed, some of his students from his time in Bonn, Münster, and Tübingen might well be considered to number among his more “conservative” students, while others who started their studies while he was in Regensburg are held to be among his more “liberal” students. However, it is true to say that his critical views on postconciliar developments tended in time to attract students more sympathetic to such views. More significant is the fact that all students, irrespective of their basic standpoint, felt at home in the colloquium. This is because of Ratzinger’s evident respect for each member, his quite remarkable ability to promote dialogue and discussion, and his tolerance of diverse viewpoints. I have never encountered anyone who could engender such a free and frank discussion as Professor Ratzinger could. And he gave his students total academic freedom in the choice and treatment of their topic.

It is therefore simply untrue to claim that it was at Regensburg “that Ratzinger began educating a generation of students who would go on to play a leading restoration role in their own national churches” (p. 92). He never set out to indoctrinate any group of students, as seems to be implied here. The seminars and colloquium in Regensburg were places of intense debate and disagreement — and, it should be added, of wit and humor. It was also a time of intensive ecumenical activities for Ratzinger, including his pioneering lecture on the future of ecumenism at the University of Graz in 1976, his support for the various Regensburg Ecumenical Symposia, and the end-of-the-year doctoral colloquia with the Lutheran theologians Pannenberg and Joest, none of which Allen mentions. What Professor Ratzinger taught us at Regensburg, primarily by his example, was to search for the truth with scholarly rigor, to be objective and respectful in debate, to risk unpopularity, and to give reasons for one’s convictions. I even heard the reproach that he had failed to form his own distinct “school,” so diverse were his students and so open was the atmosphere he cultivated. In this, he has not changed with the years, as evidenced by the yearly meeting with his former students.

This characteristic of openness and dialogue is perhaps the key to understanding Ratzinger then as now: it is expressive of his concern for truth, which, he is convinced, will always prevail in the end (cf. p. 286). and explains both the primacy of conscience and the complementary role of the Church in his writings. This in turn involves the greatest possible objectivity, the continual (personal and collective) search for what is in fact true, and so openness to the opinions of others, and the courage to speak the truth in love. As a result, Ratzinger manages to preserve a certain distance from all the controversies that embroil him and his office. Contrary to what is claimed in this book he is ready to listen, is in fact a consummate listener, who once said that “All errors contain truths” (A Turning Point for Europe?, 108).

Consistent with this thinking is the statement in the Instruction on the Ecclesial Vocation of the Theologian that a judgment of the Church on theological writings “does not concern the person of the theologian but the intellectual positions which he has publicly espoused” (my emphasis). For this reason it is strange for Allen to claim that when “Ratzinger denounces a theologian, he also implicitly rejects his theology” (p. 242). On the contrary, he, as Prefect, disciplines theologians because of their theology, not the other way around, and can only do so if they are recalcitrant in their refusal to accept the authoritative judgment of the Church, unpleasant though that may be. For Allen to underline the personal charm of Charles Curran, whom “virtually no one who knows him could construe as an enemy of the faith” (p. 258) is to miss the point completely.

Equally misleading is the claim by Curran (and others) that the methods of the congregation are “a violation of the most basic notions of due process” (p. 271). Such a comparison is invidious. The process used in determining the objective orthodoxy of a theologian must of its nature be different from the process used in a court of law, which judges the subjective guilt of the criminal. Likewise, the various penalties he has imposed on theologians disciplined by the Congregation are, no doubt, very much out of tune with the temper of the times, though to compare them — as has been done — with the penalties meted out to dissidents by totalitarian regimes in the twentieth century is grotesque, and deeply offensive to the dissidents. Those penalties are of course regrettable but, sadly, unavoidable. They do, however, underline the significance the Church accords to theology. Ratzinger is simply fulfilling his responsibility as Prefect of the Congregation with which he has been entrusted, scrupulously adhering to the approved procedures. Theology reflects on the revelation of ultimate human truth as handed on by the Catholic Church. It is concerned with our spiritual health, and is not a value-free academic discipline. In that regard, of course, it is in the same boat as any other serious human endeavor such as, for instance, medicine or law. If someone wishes to practice alternative medicine, he or she is free to do so, but outside the canons of traditional medicine. Mutatis mutandis, that is what is at stake in Ratzinger’s disciplining of certain theologians in recent years.

In passing judgment on the “enforcer of the faith” — itself a loaded term — Allen fails to appreciate the extent to which the Cardinal Prefect has in fact made the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith conform in the letter and spirit to the reform inaugurated by Pope Paul VI. This was symbolized most recently, when he opened the archives of the Congregation to scholarly research (not mentioned by Allen). It is also evident in the way he takes considerable pains to give the reasons for each decision taken by the Congregation. Few of his predecessors have provided anything like the close argumentation to be found in documents such as Donum Vitae or the two Instructions on Liberation Theology.

Though on two occasions Allen quotes from papers read by Ratzinger to meetings held between officers of his Congregation and presidents of episcopal doctrinal commissions on various continents, he misses the real import of such meetings. They were attempts to enter into dialogue with the Asian, African, and American Churches, to bring the center to the periphery, as it were, to listen, to promote debate. That Ratzinger did listen was clear to us, when at the annual meeting of his Schülerkreis, he spoke informally about various events of the previous year involving his Congregation. While in Zaire, he evidently appreciated the adaptation of the Mass to African culture, including the incorporation of ritual dance in that liturgy. He was impressed with the caliber of the Asian theologians he experienced at first hand in Hong Kong.

Apart from the seminars on papal primacy, Allen seems unaware of various other seminars organized by the Congregation under his direction to listen to and learn from experts from around the world on controversial questions, for example, in moral theology and bioethics. Neither is there any mention of the publication by the Pontifical Biblical Commission (under his direction) of the important document on biblical interpretation. In addition, Cardinal Ratzinger has continued to lecture and publish in his own name as a theologian, inviting criticism. The bibliography of his publications (including secondary literature) up to 1997 covers some 101 pages. And he continues to publish. Last year alone, for example, saw the publication of two major books, one an extended interview with a German journalist. That he listens and responds to serious objections is illustrated by his readiness to enter into public debate, as in his extensive interview (covering two full pages) with the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung (22 September 2000) on hostile reactions to Dominus Iesus.

Finally, far from trying to centralize power in Rome, he has been heard to complain that, because the local bishops fail to act (or feel powerless to act when faced with a theologian who has built up his own international network), his Congregation is often reluctantly drawn into the controversy. Allen’s account of the case of Fr. Tissa Balasuriya would have been more credible, if Allen had taken the trouble to investigate the way this particular case ended up in Rome.

Allen describes a book quoted by Ratzinger (in a discussion of the pluralist theology of religions) as having a reputation for being “tendentious and error-prone, down to small details such as citing the wrong page” (p. 240, again no source is given for this serious accusation). This is really the kettle calling the pot black. As I have briefly described, Allen’s book is error-prone, down to small details of German spelling. It is certainly tendentious, illustrated not only by its subtitle but above all by the uncritical way he quotes accusations made by hostile witnesses, such as Hans Küng, without ever questioning their objectivity or veracity. And, apart from those gaps already mentioned, there are other serious lacunae.

There is, for example, no appreciation of Ratzinger’s writings in areas such as spirituality, politics, and ethics. Many of his sermons, meditations, and retreat talks have been published, even in English, but his rich spirituality does not merit Allen’s attention. Neither is there any treatment of his substantial body of writings on politics and ethics. International recognition of his unique contribution to the field of politics and ethics came when he was appointed a “membre associé étranger” at the “Académie des Sciences Morales et Politiques” of the “Institut de France” on 7 November 1992 in Paris, taking the seat vacated by the death of the Soviet dissident Andrei Sakharov. One searches in vain for any reference to this significant fact in Allen’s book.

Allen is neither a theologian nor a historian. And yet, despite its drawbacks, his book gives the reader who otherwise might not even glance at any of Cardinal Ratzinger’s writings a little taste of their richness. He conveys something of the importance of this largely underestimated theologian holding one of the central offices in the Church at this tempestuous yet exhilarating time in history. But the price to be paid is a rather black and white approach to a man who is far more subtle, charming, and courageous than the man portrayed here. The book is unable to convey the richness and diversity of Ratzinger’s theology, which is not “derivative,” as some anonymous theologian quoted by Allen claims, but highly original and seminal, covering a vast range of subjects with refreshing clarity, insight, and, yes, optimism. Hopefully, its publication may prompt others to study his original writings, to judge for themselves — and so to enter into dialogue with one of the truly great contemporary thinkers.

1 Cardinal Ratzinger. The Vatican’s Enforcer of the Faith, by John L. Allen, Jr. (New York/London: Continuum, 2000).

Reverend Vincent Twomey, S.V.D., was ordained in 1970. He completed his doctorate at the University of Regensburg, Germany (1971-78) under the supervision of the then Professor Joseph Ratzinger. He taught theology first at the Regional Seminary of Papua New Guinea and the Solomon Islands then at the SVD Faculty at Modling, Austria, and is at present Lecturer on the Faculty of Theology, Pontifical University, Maynooth, Ireland. This is his first article in HPR.

 
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Paul S

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nyj said:
It doesn't sound like that to me. I'm with FullyMT on this. Eucharistic Adoration isn't just about "having a conversation with God", it's about worship. God isn't our peer, some buddy we chat things up with from time to time. Seeing it as a mere conversation is an offense to the principle of Adoration.

I'd agree with that, but taken as a whole, that isn't what the statement appears to say. How do you explain the last part: " To go to Church on the ground that one can visit God Who is present there is a senseless act which modern man rightfully rejects."

But even if this statement is heretical, it's probably not one the Pope still believes - he wrote it almost 40 years ago, and his views have changed since then, so it's hardly an attack on him.
 
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faerieevaH

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Paul S said:
I'd agree with that, but taken as a whole, that isn't what the statement appears to say. How do you explain the last part: " To go to Church on the ground that one can visit God Who is present there is a senseless act which modern man rightfully rejects."

But even if this statement is heretical, it's probably not one the Pope still believes - he wrote it almost 40 years ago, and his views have changed since then, so it's hardly an attack on him.

I think it might be a matter of emphasis. If you read the sentence twice and lay the emphasis of it on God Who is present, I can understand the concern, if you read it with an emphasis on the 'visit' part, I think we might have a different understanding.
I don't know about the US, but in Belgium we have, amongst people this tradition of 'the visit'. In which people gathered together so to speak over coffee to come and gossip (not always malicious) etc.
If I read that statement, I think more of the Cardinal saying that going over to have 'a visit' with God, almost as if he is an equal. Sort of a 'koffieklatsch' (difficult to translate, but see previous notion of visit). While God is fully present to go there and expect to meet him as we would meet another human seems indeed a senseless act, not recognising the deep Mystery of Gods presence, as if going to Him to talk about what we have done there is a necessity not just for us to bask in His presence, but more to keep him current of what we've done with our lives because he wouldn't know otherwise. As if God needs our visits to keep up with us. And in that we would indeed ignore his Omnipotent presence.
 
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FullyMT said:
It sorta makes sense. He's saying that people who go into a church to adore Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament for the sole reason of wanting to talk to Him are blind to the fact that they can talk to Him anywhere they are, because God can talk and listen to us anywhere.
Then Cardinal Ratzinger was pointing out that the notion that we can only talk to God inside a church is a wrong one.

bingo sis...tha's how it came acroos to me!
 
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CaDan

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nyj said:
It doesn't sound like that to me. I'm with FullyMT on this. Eucharistic Adoration isn't just about "having a conversation with God", it's about worship. God isn't our peer, some buddy we chat things up with from time to time. Seeing it as a mere conversation is an offense to the principle of Adoration.

Glad to see that we're still discussing the liberal/traditional crud around here. Some people are just never happy. We get a Pope who's as orthodox as they come and all they can do is drudge three darn decades into the past to find something to complain about. Sheesh.

Why aren't we criticizing St. Paul for killing St. Stephen?

Nice to see you back, Tom.
 
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