It’s an interesting word. It’s an especially interesting word to bring up on the heels of the last quote from the 1955 Manual For Oblates where we are encouraged to pray for the extirpation of heresies and schisms.
The word ecumenism does have a nice ring to it.
Ecumenism, as an idea and as a movement, boasts of being an endeavor to unify. It offers something in the way of a remedy for the fractured brokenness that realistically characterizes the multi-denominational church world. Relationships can be built with others of differing doctrinal mindsets. Bridges can be built through inter-religious dialog with religions differing from the Judeo-Christian faith.
Relationships, communication, understanding and acceptance are all important dimensions of life in the pluralistic world of religious faith. But, for all the effort, can ecumenism ever serve as the vehicle that achieves Christ’s deep desire reflected in his priestly prayer?[1]
Personally, from the little corner where I live out of my own experiential frame of reference as a Protestant convert to Catholicism, I hardly think that it can. Not in an ultimate fashion. Not in a fashion that will become the catalyst for the conversion of the long list of ancient “other than Christian” religions. Not as the means that will bring all the “separated” Protestant brethren back into the sheepfold of the Holy Roman Catholic Church.
Ecumenism, as with every other item and issue that concerns my life as a Catholic believer and as an Oblate of St. Benedict, comes down to one simple matter. It is simply a matter of legitimate spiritual authority. Not only a matter of legitimate spiritual authority. But of personally yielding to its Christ given position in His design for the Church.
For me as an individual, mere mental assent in these matters without a total life response is a sure and compromising course leading toward an ever deepening emptiness full of self-deception.
Somewhere, somehow, there simply has to be a final and definitive voice of authority that can herald an authoritative yea or nay. I find this voice of authority in the Supreme Pontiff and his bishops and priests as they rightly divide the word of truth[2] and its accompanying traditions that keep my own interpretations of it from going askew and leading me into anathema. I also find this voice of authority in the Abbot of St. Bernard Abbey where he leads the monks and Oblates in the way of the Gospel set forth by St. Benedict and contained in the Rule.
Ultimate and absolute spiritual unity cannot exist without ultimate and absolute spiritual authority. We can have plenty of individualism and denominationalism without it. We can have plenty of lively and meaningful inter-personal and inter-religious interaction without it. We can do plenty of altruistic good works without it. There is a lot that we can have and do without it. But the one thing that we cannot have or achieve without ultimate and absolute spiritual authority is true, ultimate, and absolute spiritual unity.
This presents something of an unavoidable predicament, one of those inescapable horned dilemmas. No matter how we dress it up, pare it down, or rationalize it.
[1] John 17 (particularly verses 20-21)
[2] 2 Timothy 2:15
3 comments:
David, much to ponder... I guess I only hope that my coming close to the doors of the Catholic church but finally my refusal to enter would not exclude me from the bond of love that I believe we have through Jesus Christ. That is, I would deeply hope that the ultimate and absolute adherance to external strutures of any church dogma, Protestant or Catholic, does not overide the mystery of the simple and profound action of loving one another as Christ loved us. I can certainly be mistaken about this but that has been my reading of Jesus' priestly prayer. What I mean is that my being a follower of Jesus is judged not by my believing or disbelieving certain church articles, but by my daily acts of charity and compassion for those around me, and by my acts of fraternal love. Does that make sense?
In love, stephen
It makes perfect sense to me, Stephen, and I hope that the posts that follow the one on ecumenism do something to flesh out a line of thought that I started with that particular post.
I do an awful lot of pondering about a lot of things, especially as a convert to the Catholic Church. It's also very interesting to consider the general stance of the Catholic Church toward Protestantism before and then after Vatican II.
A lot of hard attitudes and descriptive language has thankfully been left behind. Quite a number of tremendous strides have been made toward bridging the gaps and there is nothing in the current Catechism of the Catholic Church that would lead anyone to believe that the Roman Rite thinks Protestants are not Christians.
But there is still a terrible distance to go on both sides of the Catholic/Protestant fence before the fence is removed and all believers share together the Gift on the Alter. That was something that became painfully obvious to me when, as a Protestant believer, I first became an Oblate. Though I was a Christian and an Oblate of St. Benedict, and shared in all the other "riches", I was excluded from partaking of the Gift from the Altar before I was confirmed in the Catholic Church.
In my mind, being able to share together the Body and Blood of Christ is the single greatest sign and fruit fulfilling Christ's desire in his priestly prayer.
I certainly don't have all the answers to the dilemmas but I do understand the Catholic reasoning and positioning. At the same time, I'll admit that it does have a certain note of sadness to it and it breaks my heart to know that genuinely professing brothers and sisters in Christ are excluded from the Eucharistic Table.
I simply have to humbly accept the authority of the Church in matters that are far outside my vocation. And while I do, I also humbly pray that the life that I'm living (and have the audacity to blog about) does nothing to exacerbate the dilemmas that we've inherited.
God bless you, Stephen, my dear brother in Christ. You are often in my thoughts and prayers.
Peace,
David
Thank you for your gracious response. Peace, s
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