This morning I decided to go see what my new e-friend, Emergent Church leader Alan Creech, has to say on his enjoyable Emerging Church blog. There I found a new post, "the new relationship," in which Alan, friendly to Roman Catholicism, quotes Thomas Merton in a place where Merton speaks of the reality of our faith truly as a new Life, a life of love, not just a set of rules and regulations. Alan then goes on to question, in light of Merton's remark, the usefulness or validity of such structural things as canon law which, in his opinion, may actually interfere with the full living out of the life of faith.
It is a really interesting post, and at the end Alan challenges us to really think about it. And so I did, from my Catholic perspective, and wrote a reply to him, which I posted in his combox and which I also think is worth reflecting on here. For the benefit of my Catholic readers, and anyone else who is interested, here it is:
Alan, you are onto something so important. Our religion is not just a set of rules and regulations, or a set of propositional doctrines. It’s a whole way of life, and Life itself, in Christ, to be lived 24 hours a day. People of all denominational stripes tend to approach faith in such a reductionist way, and can lose the heart and soul of it, the very meaning of it.
But is the question really either we have structure, or we have life? I’m not sure that the two are opposed to each other. I think the problem is a little bit different. Here’s my point of view (it’s long; I apologize in advance), from my own experience:
I don’t think canon law, or other systems that grow up in the life of a church, are necessarily the problem. Rather I think it’s what they are for, how well they are understood, and the attitude with which they are approached and applied.
As a corollary, our country has a constitution and a system of laws for governance; they may be applied well or not so well; there are citizens and officers who abuse or ignore the system. But the purpose of the system is for the welfare of our country, for our protection and freedom. When you’re driving home late at night with your children in the car, you’re probably grateful for drunk driving laws. The constitution undergoes interpretation, and the laws undergo change, according to the circumstances of a given time. Imagine if we had no constitution, no law: we would have anarchy, chaos, the domination of the weak by the strong.
The Catholic Church is, on one level, both an institution and a country, a city state (the Vatican) with its citizens dispersed all over the world. Naturally it needs a constitution and law for its governance, to preserve order and to protect the rights and freedoms of all involved. That’s what canon law is. It’s not doctrine, and it is changeable (it was updated after Vatican II). But it is based on the tenants of our faith.
I was surprised, as a new Catholic, the first time I picked up and actually read a few sections of canon law, which my priest had suggested I do. I expected a dull, dry read; and not all the sections were interesting or relevant to me. But there is a section devoted to the laity which I found very beautiful, even inspiring – and solidly biblical. It outlines not only our duties and obligations, but also our rights, as Christians and members of the Church. It’s wonderful, actually.
For example, according to canon law we have the right to a good Christian education, and a duty to raise our children with the same. We have the right to be free from coercion, and the duty to help spread the message of salvation. We have the right to choose our own state in life, and the duty, within that state, to pursue holiness.
Not such a bad thing, in my opinion. I’m glad that the Church is looking out for my rights, and helping me understand my obligations.
Another case is liturgy. I love Emergent Church for its interest in liturgy. Liturgy has been much maligned and criticized. But I think the problem here is very similar to the problem Emergents have identified in megachurches: people come to church and expect to be entertained. They are passive consumers who expect the pastors and musicians to put on a good performance, and are disappointed if they don’t. In the Catholic world, many people have not been taught, or have not bothered to find out for themselves, what liturgy is, what it means, and how one is to approach it. They stand, sit, kneel, recite prayers, all rote and with no understanding of what is actually happening, or what they are really supposed to be doing.
And some priests, or so it appears to me, do the same. They say the mass without feeling, without any real understanding, as far as I can tell, of what they are really doing. The difference between a priest who knows what he is doing, and does it well, and one who doesn’t, is immeasurable. The first is immeasurably uplifting, inspiring, bringing the presence of Christ palpably to the congregation. The other is, well, immeasurably boring, stifling, and dry.
The problem is not the liturgy itself, that we must throw it out and start over. The problem is we don’t know what the liturgy is. The liturgy is, first of all and primarily, interior. It is a deep focusing on Christ so as to immerse oneself more and more deeply in Christ, and let Him immerse Himself more and more deeply in us. When we stand, we stand in His presence. Kneeling, we kneel before Him on His high throne in heaven, adoring Him. Singing and praying, we sing and pray to Him with all our hearts. Listening to the word and the preaching, we listen to Him, speaking to us. And when we go to receive the Holy Eucharist, we go to receive Christ from His own Hand, for it is Christ who is the Giver, and Christ who is the one Given.
The better we know the liturgy, the more it frees us to deepen our interior concentration. We make the outward gestures, and they are not empty, rote gestures, but beautiful, impregnated with meaning and with our inner awareness of Christ. We make them together, in union, as one Body in Christ. We make them sometimes without even thinking of the physical act, we are so immersed in Christ. When we do this, it doesn’t matter whether the music is good or bad, or the preaching dynamic or dry. We are not caught up in externals. We are caught up in Christ, because He is truly present. But to do so with a priest and a congregation who are well aware of what the liturgy is, and who really immerse themselves in it individually and as one, is a beautiful thing.
Canon law, liturgy, structure: they are elements of how the Body is structured. You may think of canon law as the skeleton, liturgy as the heart. Without a skeleton the body collapses. Without a heart, it dies. It’s not either we have structure, or we have life; structure, or love. Structure enables life, and trains us in love.
I apologize for the long dissertation. But I think there is a different way of looking at things. Structure understood the wrong way can be dry, confining, restricting – a skeleton without flesh. But understood the right way, it can be freeing. To use an analogy, athletic training can be exhausting, but it also makes a better athlete. Without it, you can lose the game.
In your quote from Merton, he said, “One of the most fundamental ideas of Christianity is that the free decision of men to love one another in Christ enables them to cooperate positively and creatively in the definitive manifestation of God on earth.” For us Catholics, and I assume for Merton, the Church is part of the definitive, ongoing manifestation of God on earth; and we love one another in it, and cooperate in it, as well as loving and cooperating with, as best we can (some of us better and some of us some worse, I’m sorry to say), all Christians. It doesn’t mean it’s always easy, and we sometimes struggle. But it’s a good, worthwhile struggle, if undertaken with the right spirit: the spirit of love, the Spirit of Christ. It makes us grow, in selflessness, and in love.
There are many different ways to approach Christ, and I’m not suggesting that the Catholic way is the only way. But I can tell you that, properly understood, it’s a really great way. Canon law and all.
