Catholicism Must Adapt
Catholicism Must Adapt
By Robert J. Willis, Ph.D.
I once described a psychotherapy patient’s presenting problem this way:
[Peter] had been born and raised in Berlin, Connecticut, in a blue-collar neighborhood . . . . Although he was thirty-three he was still living with [his parents]. . . .
He explained at length what made him seek me out. He was having an increasingly difficult time driving home from work. He took Interstate 91 South from Bradley Field and Interstate 84 West toward Berlin. The problem started as soon as he hit 84. He would be driving along, go over a bump, and wonder immediately if he had struck something. When he looked in his rear-view mirror, he could see nothing nor spy any cars slowing down because of an accident. Then he’d think, “But maybe I hit somebody. If I did, it would be a terrible thing if I just went on as if I didn’t care.” So he would get off at the next exit and circle back to the part of the highway leading up to the offending bump. He would move along very slowly, checking carefully till he became certain that no mishap had occurred. Once satisfied, he would get up to speed and head toward home. But then another bump would shake the car and the whole cycle would repeat. Sometimes it took him over an hour to get from Hartford to Berlin, a drive of about thirty minutes. This crazy business was driving him nuts. He had to do something to stop. Could I help him?
I inquired what would be so terrible about driving on if he had struck a pedestrian. What did he think would result? Besides being a hit-and-run and being picked up by the police, he shuddered to think about the effect on his family. If he showed so little care for others that he wouldn’t even try to get them to the hospital, then God would certainly punish him. God in retaliation would kill one of his parents or siblings. He couldn’t risk that his selfishness would spark this family disaster.[1]
As the therapy revealed, Peter in his anger over his dependent existence was secretly wishing for the death of his parents. However, he refused to face that desire or to confront his anger. Nor had he pursued possible adjustments to his living situation. Instead, he was slavishly following his version of God’s will. He did experience some immediate relief of anxiety through this ritualistic behavior. His actions failed, however, to engage and solve his problem.
Over the past forty years in the United States, priests and religious have in astounding numbers abandoned their ecclesial vocations. In response, church leaders—begun by a timorous Paul VI, accelerated by a stubborn John Paul II, and continuing today by a backward-gazing Benedict XVI—have attempted to push the clock back to a pre-Vatican II era. Obsessively, they chase after the phantom of a re-found, lock-step organization shaped by the Council of Trent in the 16th Century. Although vacant schools, empty rectories, consolidated parishes and shrinking congregations shout to the steeple-tops the failure of this strategy, these popes and their Vatican bureaucracies keep repeating over and over the same futile maneuvers. Like poor Peter, they struggle to find a way home; like him, they use God and God’s supposed will to avoid dealing constructively with their problem.
Smart and capable people, among others, land in therapists’ offices because of insoluble problems, misplaced attempts to address them, and self-serving explanations for their failure. They blame others for their troubles; they seek salvation elsewhere; they demand change while refusing to change themselves.
In the present crisis in our church, conservatives blame Vatican II, clergy shake their fingers at a materialistic laity, while popes rail against a pantheon of ism’s: materialism and secularism, modernism and atheism, capitalism and communism, and the current pope’s favorite target, relativism. If only these distorted movements would go away, if only their misguided advocates would see the Christian light, peace and order, obedience and faith would flourish again among us. One wonders who among those wise blamers ever considers the complicity of Catholicism in creating this troubling mess. Perhaps God does not want our church leaders to hide behind some mythical God’s will that preserves it from its own conversion. “Change it but don’t change me” does not live comfortably with Christ’s demand for metanoia.
Obedience has become the cover for inaction. Priests must teach and act according to the commands of their bishop; bishops must follow the directions of the Vatican and the decrees of the pope; the pope must conform to divine revelation as contained in Scripture and concretized in Tradition. From top to bottom of the ecclesiastical hierarchy the straight jacket of conformity dictates responses, effective or not, as long as they are approved by somebody else, and ultimately, by God. The most telling of excuses, of course, lies in this statement: we cannot do that because it violates God’s revelation.
Sadly, unlike my patient Peter, our ecclesiastical leadership has not dared therapy. So it obsessively repeats ineffective coping patterns, leaving in place an ever-worsening situation. We must challenge this gross disservice to the Catholic community.
Protestant denominations associate “we must” with Scripture and with the activity of the Early Church; in Catholicism the ruling hierarchy determines “we must” and “we cannot” by today’s official interpretation of Scripture and Tradition. Both claimants trumpet God’s revelation to buttress their positions. Do they do so validly? Does God’s revelation lead God’s people to security and certainty, or rather to faith and adaptation? Let us examine some telling moments of Christian history in search of an answer.
Role and Consecration of Bishops
The New Testament breaks open for us the faith experience of the immediate companions of Jesus. In a simple sentence it proclaims the divine Good News: God loves us. His disciples, then as now, accept this marvelous truth as the core of their faith.
Christian history, from the initial writings of Paul to the final testimony of John through the reflections of generations of Christians up to our own day, presents the ever-evolving story of that revelation. Day in and day out believers add phrases and clauses, adjectives and adverbs and clarifying punctuation that deepen our grasp of the divine declaration. When we say “God,” what do we mean? In what ways does God exist? How does God love, like or unlike us? What evidence do we possess of that love’s presence in our world? What may we expect from a loving God? And, finally, who receives divine love: Christ’s apostles and disciples, those who believe in the name of Jesus, only the righteous, all believers and doers of life, all creation? What happens to the recipients of the divine largesse? How do they act and live as a new creation?
The New Testament does not conclude God’s self-revelation; on the contrary, it opens it up for all ages till the end of the world. It enunciates one for-all-time declaration: God loves us. We need a history of God-with-us to realize the import of this unfathomable gift. We have one task: catch God in the act of loving us, and respond in kind.
Over the course of its two millennia, Christianity has lost its focus on God and a divine presence among us. Indeed, it has substituted its own ecclesial paraphernalia for God, and equated faith with obedience to the organization’s expectations and demands. Theology has morphed into ecclesiology; orthodoxy requires conformity, not faith; one must love and believe in the Church, the anthropomorphic stand-in for the divine.
In his First Letter to the Corinthians Paul enumerated the gifts of the Spirit bestowed for the common good. These included wisdom and knowledge and faith, performing healings and working miracles, prophesying and discerning spirits, speaking in and interpreting tongues (1 Cor. 12:4-11).[2] The graced recipients served the church as apostles and prophets and teachers, as miracle workers and healers, and finally as helpers, administrators, and ones speaking in tongues (1 Cor. 12:27-31). We may note that Paul did not locate bishops (ép iskopoi) in this catalogue. Indeed, the word for bishop does not occur in the Gospels; while Paul used it only three times in contexts that make the position undistinguishable from that of the elders (presbúteroi).[3] After discussing ministry in the New Testament, James Mohler concludes: “Although presbyters seem to have been in the Church from the beginning, the guardians [épískopoi] do not appear till [the Council of] Ephesus in 58. The distinction between presbyters and guardians is growing, but not yet is there the monarchical trend of the second century.”[4]
Early in the 2nd Century, Ignatius, bishop of Antioch in Syria, disobeyed an edict of Emperor Trajan that Christians should participate with their pagan neighbors in worshiping the gods. By royal command he was hustled off under guard to Rome to be sacrificed to beasts in the Coliseum. During this journey Ignatius met deputations from various Christian communities; in response he wrote a number of letters to the home communities. He urged the Christians to remain firm and courageous in the face of persecution and to pray for him. He also, over and over, counseled them to obey their bishop, elders, and deacons.
Ignatius writes directly to Polycarp, bishop of Smyrna; he simply mentions Damas, bishop of the church in Magnesia. He does not address other bishops, supposed leaders of their communities. One may reasonably conclude that either he did not know them, or these young congregations did not yet have bishops. The latter seems probable. He appears to be suggesting with determined emphasis that these groups of Christians should organize themselves as the church in Antioch had done. This would furnish guidance and support during persecution, as well as provide a stable authority to counter heresy.
The title of épískopoz comes from two Greek words meaning: “look upon.” In the Roman Empire overseers functioned as civil or military officers exercising authority in the name of an absent ruler or owner. Although during the post-New Testament era many Church spokesmen speak of bishops, these Apostolic Fathers nowhere describe that position or provide a list of episcopal duties. In addition they regularly include with the bishop a council of elders (presbutérion) and a cadre of deacons (diákonoi). Together they all administrated the local church. Did the Christian people elect its bishop? Did the presbyters nominate the bishop from the presbyterate, like the president of a council? Did the bishop and presbyterate function together or separately? We do not know except in individual instances. We may, indeed, affirm that the selection and consecration of a bishop evolved as the Church took on an increasingly clerical flavor and hierarchical structure.
In the first chapter of Acts (1:15-26) Peter assembled the other apostles and 120 brethren. At his urging they nominated two candidates to fill the vacated apostolic position of Judas. After praying together they cast lots. Matthias—chosen thus by the Lord—became the twelfth apostle.
The apostles needed diaconal assistance that might free them from daily charitable activities that interrupted their preaching. They called together the community; they asked their fellow Christians to nominate “seven men of good repute” whom they might appoint as deacons. The people did so and presented them to the apostles; after prayer the twelve laid their hands upon them (Acts 6:1-6).
At the Council of Jerusalem church members agreed that the Gentile converts to Christianity need not be circumcised according to Jewish tradition. The group—“the apostles and the elders, with the whole church”—selected a deputation from among their number to go with Paul and Barnabas to deliver this news to the church in Antioch (Acts 15: 1-29).
Choices important to the young Christian community came out of the discussions and deliberations of the assembly. As the position of bishop gained organizational importance, the people participated centrally in the selection of their leader.
Near the end of the 1st Century an unknown author wrote the Didache or Teaching of the Apostles. The writer counseled the Christian communities to organize with a more settled local ministry. They should “therefore appoint for yourselves bishops and deacons worthy of the Lord” (15.1). The text does not elaborate on the process of selection and confirmation.
Hippolytus, a presbyter of the church in Rome, in approximately 215 A.D. composed The Apostolic Tradition. Distraught over the innovating practices of the Roman bishops Zephyrinus and Callistus, he sought to preserve the prayers and rituals of the 2nd Century. He laid out in detail the accepted method among the Christian communities of selecting bishops:
Let him be ordained bishop who has been chosen by all the people, and when he has been named and accepted by all, let him assemble the people together with the presbytery and those bishops who are present, on the Lord’s day. When all give consent, let them lay hands on him, and let the presbytery stand by, being still. And let all keep silence, praying in the heart for the descent of the Spirit; from whom let one of the bishops present, being asked by all, laying [his] hand on him who is being ordained bishop, pray. . . .[5]
We recognize here two processes: selection of and affirmation of the candidate by the whole local church and attendant bishops; the consecration presentation and action before the people, in the name of the people, by an ordaining bishop.
During the persecution of Decius, Fabian, bishop of Rome, was martyred. In March 251 A.D. Cornelius, contrary to his personal desires, became his successor. Opposed by the followers of Novatian for his compassionate attitude toward lapsed Christians, not everyone approved of his election. Cyprian, bishop of Carthage, wrote a number of supportive letters to him. In one he exclaimed:
But—I speak to you as being provoked; I speak as grieving; I speak as constrained—when a bishop is appointed into the place of one deceased, when he is chosen in time of peace by the suffrage of the entire people, when he is protected by the help of God in persecution, faithfully linked with all his colleagues, approved by his people by now four years’ experience in his episcopate; . . . It is evident who assails him: . . .[6]
Some years later, after a personal, interior struggle, a reluctant civil servant named Ambrose acquiesced to the importunities of the Christian community. His elevation to the episcopacy of Milan underlines the central role the laity assumed in the selection of their spiritual leader.
In 374 A.D. Bishop Auxentius, a follower of Arius, died. Because of violent internecine conflicts between the Arians and the defenders of the Nicene Creed, the bishops of the province appealed to Emperor Valentinian I to disallow any popular election of his successor. He refused. When the two sides assembled in the basilica to select a new leader, Ambrose, a lawyer and governor of the area, addressed them. Earnestly, he implored peace. As he spoke, a voice—some say of a child—shouted “Ambrose for bishop!” After a momentary pause, the crowd took up the chant; they soon nominated him as their candidate for the episcopacy.
Ambrose had never been baptized, being just a catechumen. Nor did he have any training in theology or church governance. He implored Valentinian not to accept the nomination. Instead, the popular acclamation of a royal governor for ecclesiastical honor pleased the emperor. Ambrose tried to flee the city; he hid himself in a senator’s home until that worthy, knowing of the emperor’s approval of the people’s choice, revealed his whereabouts. Finally, no avenues of escape left, Ambrose relented. After baptism and a quick succession of orders, he was consecrated bishop of Milan on December 7, 374 A.D.
Even the early champion of Roman monarchy, Leo the Great, who reigned from 440-461 A.D., in his letter to the bishops of the province of Vienne urged in the matter of ordinations that “he who is to govern all, should be chosen by all.”[7]
Church archives preserve consecration rites for a bishop from the fifth to sixteenth centuries. Recently Sharon McMillan authored an extensive structural analysis of them.[8] She concluded that during most of this period the rites required two separate presentations. The first sought testimony from the vacant see of its need for a leader and assurance of its free designation of a suitable candidate; further, it included the examination of that candidate by the consecrating bishop. The second–in early versions on the following day–began with a reaffirmation of the request and local choice, followed by the mass of consecration.
The Ordo Romanus XXXIV in use from the sixth to eighth centuries “preserves the earliest unquestionably Roman ordo for the ordination of a bishop.”[9] Its Saturday presentation brought members of the vacant see with their request. They delivered their petition to the consecrating bishop, assured him of their free choice of the elect, and introduced him. The bishop then examined the candidate relative to his personal fitness and theological orthodoxy. Once satisfied, the bishop declared: “. . . Because the desires of all have agreed upon you, today you will abstain and tomorrow, if it is pleasing to God, you will be consecrated.”[10]
On Sunday the consecration began after the gradual of the mass. The bishop-elect appeared in episcopal regalia. This–
“. . .change in vesture at this point is not insignificant. Preceding any consecratory prayer, preceding any ritual gesture, the elect enters the church for consecration already vested as a bishop. The validity of this vesting lies in the significance of the Selection Presentation that occurred the previous day. Because of the consensus which elected this man and further confirmed his selection, a substantial part of his ordination has already occurred. He has been constituted bishop-elect by the desires of all; . . .[11]
There followed an additional proclamation of consensus:
The clergy and the people of the city of N. consenting, with their neighboring sees, have chosen for themselves N., the deacon or presbyter, to be consecrated bishop. Therefore let us pray for this man, that our God and lord Jesus Christ may grant to him the episcopal chair for ruling over his church and all the people.[12]
With a litany, a blessing, and a kiss of peace, the mass concluded. The new bishop was enthroned in a special chair positioned above the assembled bishops.
From this brief discussion we may attest to the intrinsic importance of the involvement of the members of the diocese in the selection, election, and ordination of their bishop during this era.
Although some changes show up in succeeding rituals, they continued to espouse the two presentations and the involvement of the laity of the vacant see. So, for example, the Roman Pontifical of the Twelfth Century started with this phrase: “PrXII.X. Here begins the order for the calling and examining or consecrating the elect a bishop according to the practice of the roman church.”[13] The clergy of the vacant see now presented the elect to the consecrating bishop. After the examination, however, the bishop declared: “Therefore thus examined and well prepared, with the consent of the clerics and laity and the agreement of the bishops of the entire province, in the name of the lord he may be ordained.”[14] The presenting clergy, therefore, came as representatives of all the people of the diocese.
By the time of the Editio Princeps (1485) we note significant alterations to the consecratory rite. The title, “Regarding the Consecration of the Elect as a Bishop,” manifested the first instance in a long written history that refers only to half of the constitutive ritual.[15] Two assistant bishops replaced representatives of the vacant see; indeed, no reference alluded to any particular see, metropolitan, or church. A papal mandate replaced the people’s letter of petition while the examination of the elect focused solely on fidelity to the Holy See. A statement about the role of bishop substituted for the proclamation of consensus and consecration. The pope, not the diocesan community, selected the bishop-elect; the pope, not the metropolitan and his bishops, granted permission for ordination; the pope through his delegated bishops consecrated the new bishop. This novel papal emphasis sought to counter lay intrusion into ecclesiastical life. The local prince had taken to himself the role of the people.
McMillan quotes Robert Benson’s The Bishop-Elect to explain how civil rulers came to interfere in the consecration of bishops:
During the High Middle Ages the episcopacy was, like monarchy, a universal governing institution throughout Latin Christendom. The double role—ecclesiastical and secular—of most bishops heightened the historical importance of episcopacy and the episcopate. Every bishop was a successor of the apostles and a prince of the Church, possessing both sacramental and jurisdictional powers, and with a solemn responsibility for the salvation of Christian souls. Moreover, most bishops were also princes of this world, whose duties demanded the combined talents of a politician, and administrator, and even sometimes (at least until the twelfth century) a soldier.[16]
In the effort to counteract the intrusion of lay investiture, it happened that only the pope had sufficient power and authority to withstand overweening local lords. Indeed, as McMillan remarks, quoting Hervè-Marie Legrand: “The direct nomination of virtually all Catholic bishops by the pope does not derive from his primacy, but from historical circumstances which allowed the pope to remove it from the hands of the civil authorities.”[17] Thus evolved the people’s selection of the bishop-elect, their presentation to a consecrating bishop, and the consecration in, for, and among the people of the vacant see. What once sprang up from the people now belonged to Rome.
The Evolution of Papal Jurisdiction
Having considered the general place of bishops in the Church, let us now focus on a special one, the bishop of Rome. From the outset among the Christians in Rome, “the roots of Roman church governance remain murky.”[18] When Paul wrote them, he did not salute personally any leader of that community. Nor did Ignatius. When the author of the First Letter of Clement to the church in Corinth counseled Christians embroiled in a struggle over power and influence, he neither wrote to a bishop nor did he himself claim any episcopal authority. Indeed, the fracas concerned a revolt of younger church members against church elders (presbúteroi).
Irenaeus, bishop of Lyons in southern Gaul, c. 185 A.D. authored an extensive refutation of Gnosticism. After describing its various sects, in book three he contrasted Gnosticism with authentic Christianity. Among other differences he noted how the Gnostic sects began with their local proponent while true Christian faith embraced a rich history extending back to Christ and His apostles. As an historical example he listed the succession of bishops of the community in Rome, from the foundation by Peter and Paul to its current leader, Bishop Eleutherius.
He selected Rome to argue his point for three reasons. In the first place, it would be a tedious digression in his work to list the succession of bishops in every local church. Secondly, he showcased it as the “very great [maximae], the very ancient [antiquissimae], and universally known [omnibus cognotae] church founded and organized at Rome by the two most glorious apostles, Peter and Paul.”[19] Finally, this local church readily stood for the whole Church inasmuch as the faithful everywhere must believe in the apostolic tradition on which it rests.
The Latin translation of the lost Greek text states: “ . . . it is necessary for every church to agree with this church propter potentiorem principalitatem.”[20] Literally this translates as “on account of its more powerful original position” from the two apostles. Catholic scholars regularly argue from this statement to the juridical authority of the bishop of Rome over all the churches in matters of doctrine. What should one make of this claim?
It merits caution. One should not blithely embrace this conclusion. Irenaeus here emphasizes his choice of Rome as his example; he is not setting out to proclaim Roman preeminence. Moreover, he is delivering a rhetorical argument, not enunciating accepted fact: Does he claim the church at Rome to be antiquissimae, older than Antioch? On what basis would he declare it maximae, the greatest? Other than being located in the seat of the Roman Empire, how would that Christian community be omnibus cognitae, known by all? Since we do not possess Irenaeus’s Greek manuscript, since we do not know the motivation or intentions of his Latin translator, we cannot claim any certitude about Irenaeus’s intent in pointing to the agreement of other churches with Rome, other than its apostolic foundation.
If we should assert Irenaeus’s defense of Rome’s legal authority over other Christian communities, what do we make of the life of his disciple Hippolytus of Rome? A theologian of note in his day, he clashed with the Roman bishop Zephyrinus for failing to condemn the heresy of Modalism. When the deacon Callistus succeeded him, Hippolytus criticized the new prelate severely concerning his theology and over disputed church practices. Leaving the Roman faith community, Hippolytus set himself up as bishop of the true Christian church, from 217-235 A.D. In that final year, Emperor Maximinus banished Bishop Zephyrinus and Hippolytus to the Sardinian mines. Once there, the two reconciled, both stepped down as bishops, and both soon expired as martyrs for the faith. Clearly, Hippolytus did not consider any legal deference owed to these early Roman bishops if he judged them mistaken. We must wonder if Irenaeus differed significantly from this stance of his irascible pupil.
We know that many churches owe their foundation to apostles. We commonly speak of Petrine, Pauline, and Joannine churches. What, then, could be so special about the Roman church; why tout it above that of Jerusalem, Antioch, or Smyrna, for example? Being of apostolic foundation does not distinguish it from them. Does the explanation lie in anything more than two apostles and leaders who became martyrs in the civil center of the then-all-powerful Roman Empire?
Church apologists routinely point to Peter’s confession in the Gospel of Matthew as Jesus’ commission to Peter. Because of his faith in Jesus as “the Son of the Living God” (Mt. 16:18), Simon, now Peter, becomes the foundation upon which Jesus “will build my church” (Mt. 16:18). This affirmation in time translated into promoting Peter as the first pope, from whom sprouted the hierarchical Roman Catholic Church. Matthew used the word ékklesia, meaning congregation or assembly. In Jesus’ day and place a “church” as opposed to a “synagogue” did not exist. Jesus himself often attended services in a synagogue. It stretches credulity to posit Jesus prophesying the Christian hierarchical church and his apostles understanding this prophecy. A less tortured rendition of Matthew’s account would have Jesus saying to Peter: “Your faith in me as Son of the Living God will become the basis upon which the community of believers in me will grow.” Peter as believer becomes the rock; his belief serves as the community’s foundation and guide.
Whatever our present-day interpretation, what evidence highlights the position of the Early Church concerning the primacy of Peter and the position of the church of Rome?
In his Ecclesiastical History,[21] Eusebius of Caesarea records the Church’s development from the life of Christ, through successive reigns of Roman emperors, up to the time of Constantine. He mentions the names of bishops in the various churches, including Rome. He does not speak differently of Roman bishops; they had authority in their church as others did in theirs. He does not designate any Roman bishop as “pope” (that first appears with Pope Siricius in 375 A.D.). As Daniel Maguire, a theologian at Marquette University, pithily points out: “There was no pope in the early church.”[22] Eusebius grants the church of Rome respect primarily for its creation by the two apostles early on in the community’s life.
Eusebius’s honor for that church echoes the reflections of the Church Fathers in the 2nd and 3rd centuries. As Walter Ullman, a historian of the papacy, notes: “Moreover, the Roman church had been credited with some pre-eminence by a number of early writers and theologians who applied certain biblical texts, notably in the New Testament, to this church.” Ullman continues with an important clarification: “It is nevertheless worthy of note that this biblically based pre-eminence of the Roman church was asserted by writers and ecclesiastics outside Rome. This is important to bear in mind if the historical situation is to be properly assessed: there was neither before nor for some considerable time after the Constantinean peace any reference by the Roman church itself to any biblical basis of its pre-eminent role among Christian communities.” He concludes: “By the time of the settlement of 313 the Roman church had a somewhat superior but purely moral authority in comparison with other churches. . . . There was, as yet, no suggestion that the Roman church possessed any legal or constitutional pre-eminence.”[23]
Late in the 4th Century, a document surfaced that attempted to establish the juridical superiority of the Roman church. Rufinus of Aquileia, a theologian and monk, translated from the Greek a letter purported to be from Bishop Clement of Rome to St. James, the Lord’s brother, bishop of Jerusalem. In it Clement related the passing of St. Peter and a momentous occurrence immediately preceding it.
The letter reports that Peter called together the Christian community there. After informing it of his impending death, he designated Clement as the next bishop of Rome (Clementum hunc episcopum vobis ordino . . . ). In doing so Peter explicitly transferred to him the authority Christ had bestowed on him:
On account of which I hand over to him the power of binding and loosing given to me by the Lord, so that whatsoever he shall decree on earth, this decree may be in heaven. For he will bind what it is fitting to bind, and loose what he determines to loose. . . .[24]
Here, indeed, Clement forged a strong link from Christ to Peter to himself: what belongs to Christ by nature, what Christ choose to bestow on Peter, Peter now passes on as his last will and testament to Clement. All bishops reign as heirs of the apostles; only the bishop of Rome may claim to be an heir of Peter. Clement communicated this to James, as he said Peter had commanded. The writer did not explain how Peter, the first bishop of Rome, ordained Clement, the fourth. Rufinus held the opinion that Peter simply outlived his immediate successors, Linus and Anacletus, the latter who conveniently must have recently died.
We do not possess the original Greek text. Scholars have concluded that an unknown author wrote it in the late 2nd Century. Moreover, Rufinus routinely made free translations of texts from Greek to Latin, a practice for which St. Jerome severely took him to task. In addition the letter appears in the Pseudo-Isidorian Decretals, a 9th Century compilation of papal decrees that includes sixty apocryphal letters from popes, beginning with this one from Clement to James. No one disputes the forging of the decretals; no reputable scholar maintains that Bishop Clement of Rome wrote James this juridical message: Ullman dismisses the letter as “spurious.”[25] This being said, the bogus letter bolstered the case throughout the Middle Ages of Rome’s Petrolineal authority.
The church of Rome established itself as the government of the whole Church during the fourth and fifth centuries. A brief review illustrates that development.
In 325 A.D. Emperor Constantine convoked the Council of Nicaea. Although nearly 200 bishops attended, two priests alone represented the community in Rome. Indeed, only five occidental bishops participated, one of these an imperial appointee. The Roman church played barely a minor role in this groundbreaking theological gathering.
With the migration of Constantine and his court to the East, Byzantium became the “New Rome.” Thereby, historical obsolescence threatened the old capitol and its Christian community. Its bishop, Damasus, countered through a conciliar declaration in 382 A.D. that linked the dignity of the Roman church to its founding by two apostles, Peter and Paul. An erstwhile historical justification of ecclesial Rome as superior to Constantinople morphed into pre-eminence by divine choice. Damasus referred consistently to his church as “the apostolic see” (sedes apostolica); his council touted the “primacy of the Roman church.”[26]
His successor, Pope Siricius, issued decretal letters modeled upon the responsa “of the emperor dispatched to provincial governors which decided controversial legal matters.”[27] In his oldest extant decretal letter, one sent to the Spanish bishops in 385 A.D., the pope referred to himself as the heir of St. Peter; moreover, he claimed to bear the burdens of all and thus the responsibility for the whole Church.
Innocent I took over the papal throne in 401 A.D. He turned the papacy into a governmental organ with a decidedly Roman capacity for law and order. Both in volume and quality his decretals broadly touched the life of the Western church. As Ullman comments:
In style, structure and above all juristic penetration and refinement they [these decretals] were worthy equals of their imperial patterns (the rescripts). The tone of these early decretals was the language of authoritative government; they were suffused with juristic wisdom, detached and objective. Their underlying idea was frequently enough repeated: no bishop was at liberty to set aside with impunity a papal decree and synodal decisions . . . .[28]
In the middle years of the 5th Century (440-461 A.D.) Pope Leo I occupied the apostolic chair. A jurist and Roman aristocrat, he used his background, training, and Roman law to further the theory of papal primacy. Using Peter’s declaration of faith in the gospel of Matthew (Mt. 16:18) and the aforementioned falsified letter of Clement to James, he claimed that any successor in the church of Rome had power in and through an inheritance given by Peter to that church. On the anniversary of his elevation to the papal throne, he preached the following:
The dispensation of Truth therefore abides, and the blessed Peter persevering in the strength of the Rock, which he has received, has not abandoned the helm of the Church, which he undertook. . . . And still to-day he more fully and effectively performs what is entrusted to him, and carries out every part of his duty and charge in Him and with Him, and through Whom he has been glorified. And so if anything is rightly done and rightly decreed by us, if anything is won from the mercy of GOD by our daily supplications, it is of his work and merits whose power lives and whose authority prevails in his See (Sermon III.2).[29]
Leo’s genius lies in separating the office from its holder. Peter bestows his authority on the office; subsequent bishops do not receive their authority from their immediate predecessor; Peter grants directly his power to the current pope-elect. As regards this authority, the personal qualities of a pope matter not at all, for when a pope decrees, Peter decrees through him. On this basis Leo affirmed the primacy (principatus) of the Roman See, whose bishop exercised the fullness of apostolic power (plenitudo potestatis). Leo, of course, well knew that Roman emperors applied both terms to themselves. Leo clearly sought to establish the papacy as a legal monarchy at the apostolic height (apostolicum culmen) whose decrees could, therefore, not be legally reviewed by any other authority, civil or religious. After him, at least in the West, and until the schism in the East and the Reformation in the West, Christianity accepted both this reasoning and this doctrine according to Leo. Rome ruled and Rome embraced that role.
The Movement from Presbyter to Priest
Having considered two historical foundations of the hierarchical church, popes and bishops, let us examine the roots of its final, most local pillar: the cultic priesthood.
Jesus uttered many harsh words about the religious leadership of the Jews in his time. Among others, this passage stands out:
The Scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat; so practice and observe whatever they tell you, but not what they practice. They bind heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on men’s shoulders; but they themselves will not move them with their finger. They do all their deeds to be seen by men; for they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long, and they love the place of honor at feasts and the best seats in the synagogues, and salutations in the market places, and being called rabbis by men. But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all brethren. And call no man your father on earth, for you have one Father, who is in heaven. Neither be called masters, for you have one master, the Christ. He who is greatest among you shall be your servant; whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted (Mt. 23: 2-12).
These men burden others with religious duties while shirking the same. They lack compassion while gathering to themselves honors, the false fruits of religiosity.
When his disciples were discussing among themselves what merited greatness in following Him, Jesus counseled them thus: “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like the child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven” (Mt. 18: 2-4). Do not worry about your honor and rectitude before others; be instead open and loving, simple and humble, like a young person not yet corrupted by the world.
To emphasize the difference between Christian and non-Christian leadership, be that secular or religious, Jesus called together his apostles who were upset over the attempt of James and John to get Jesus to give them a place of honor, “one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory” (Mk. 10: 37). He outlined what he expected from them and from all Christian leaders:
You know that those who are supposed to rule over the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great men exercise authority over them. But it shall not be so among you; but whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be slave to all. For the Son of man also came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many (Mk. 10:42-45).
According to New Testament accounts, especially witnessed in Paul, the apostles preached the Good News, established groups of believers, and moved on. The local communities organized themselves formally around their elders and deacons, informally around various roles assumed by members according to the needs of their brethren. As regards their weekly remembrance of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection, the Christians gathered under the leadership of their host and hostess, or the elders, or the deacons. Nowhere do we find mention of a cultic priesthood equivalent to Jewish practice. No priest (íereuz, sacerdos) officiated over a Christian liturgy, holding the position of an official mediator accepting in Christ’s name the offering of the congregation. Leadership sprouted from the needs of the people; leaders exercised their roles as servants of the Christian community.
New Testament Christians rejected a cultic priesthood. As the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews writes: “Consequently, when Christ came into the world, he said, ‘Sacrifices and offerings thou has not desired, but a body hast thou prepared for me; in burnt offerings and sin offerings thou has taken no pleasure.’ Then I said, ‘Lo, I have come to do thy will, O God,’ as it is written of me in the roll of the book’” (Heb. 10: 5-7).[30] They did not require priestly ministers because “we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, . . . He has no need, like those high priests [of the Jews], to offer sacrifices daily, first for his own sins and then for those of the people; he did this once for all when he offered up himself” (Heb. 4: 14; 7: 27). Christ alone is “the mediator of a new covenant” (Heb. 9: 15). No priests were to sacrifice before God in this people’s stead “for it is impossible that the blood of bulls and goats should take away sins” (Heb. 10: 4). “How much more shall the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish to God, purify your conscience. . .”(Heb. 9:14).
Mohler, speaking of the New Testament experience, notes that they had three kinds of ministry: “First, the inspired apostle, evangelist, prophet and teacher; secondly, the cultural and eleemosynary services of the presidents, deacons and widows; and, finally, the disciplinary and judiciary and administrative offices of the presbyters from whom the guardians [bishops or presidents] were drawn. . . . As yet we have no Christian priesthood paralleling that of the temple.”[31]
Into the 2nd Century, the era of the Post-Apostolic Fathers, no priests served the Christian community. However, we may note an effort to situate the eucharistic liturgy under administrative control.
The Didache instructed believers to assemble on the Lord’s Day. That their sacrifice may be pure, they should confess their transgressions before breaking bread and giving thanksgiving.[32] Around the same time, in mid-century, Justin Martyr concluded his First Apology with references to the Christian Sunday assembly. After readings from Scripture:
. . . the president verbally instructs, and exhorts to the imitation of these good things. The we all rise together and pray, and, as we before said, when our prayer is ended, bread and wine are brought, and the president in like manner offers prayers and thanksgiving, according to his ability, and the people assent, saying Amen; and there is a distribution to each, and a participation over which thanks have been given. . . .[33]
The president, either a bishop or the head of the presbyterate, presided over an early form of our mass.
The above description echoes an earlier exhortation in which Ignatius of Antioch counseled the Christians of Smyrna:
Let that be deemed a proper Eucharist, which is [administered] either by the bishop or by one to whom he has entrusted it. . . . It is not lawful without the bishop either to baptize or to celebrate a love-feast; but whatsoever he shall approve of, that is also pleasing to God, so that everything that is done may be secure and valid.[34]
In these examples we have a clear preparation for the appearance of a Christian priesthood, especially relative to the celebration of the Lord’s Day.
How, then, did the Church come to put aside a simple leadership role and embrace instead a cultic priesthood? One may point to various steps taken toward that clerical state.
In The Apostolic Tradition (early 3rd Century) Hippolytys of Romedemonstrated a growing analogy between the Christian clergy and its Jewish forebears. During the liturgical rite for the elevation of a new bishop, a consecrating bishop prayed for the nominee: Grant, Father who knows the heart, to your servant whom you chose for the episcopate, that he may feed your holy flock, that he will wear your high priesthood without reproach, serving night and day, incessantly making your face favorable and offering the gifts of your holy church; in the spirit of the high priesthood having the power to forgive sins according to your command, to assign lots according to your command; to loose any bond according to the authority which you gave to the apostles; . . .[35]
No mention is made of the nominee stepping forth by the will of the people or as issuing from the presbyterate: God chose this new bishop. Moreover, the liturgical role he will exercise placed him before God, between God and His people, offering gifts as a high priest. This position underpins his administrative power to bind and loose the fortunes of church members. Though still one of the presbyterate, the bishop, he who ordained presbyters to their position, outranked them. Here is reflected the practice of the Jewish religion: the elders (presbúteroi) come from the people and represent them; the priests (íereoi) stand apart from the people before the Almighty.
In the East the bishop at this time assumed the position, not only of high priest, but even that of supreme ruler, a king. Consider this statement in the Syrian Didascalia Apostolorum:
Then were first fruits and tithes and part-offerings and gifts; but today the oblations which are offered through the bishops to the Lord God. For they are your high priests; but the priests and Levites now are the presbyters and deacons, and the orphans and widows: but the Levite and high priest is the bishop. He is minister of the word and mediator; but to you a teacher, and your father after God, who begot you through the water. This is your chief and your leader, and he is your mighty king.[36]
How far this depiction has strayed from the servant leadership Christ urged on His disciples! The bishop has become a cultic high priest.
As a consequence of this monarchical position, deacons, the right hand of the bishop reaching out into the community, obtained new power and notoriety. At the same time, the presbyters were relegated to a more honorary, less egalitarian position. Though continuing as the bishop’s consulters, though still occupying prominent seats around him during liturgical functions, they no longer exercised daily administration of the church: the bishop and his deacons ran the community life.
Mohler concluded his account of this period with this observation:
The third century saw the office of bishop flourish, more clearly outlining the grades of the ministry. Detached from the presbyteral college, the episcopal takes on the sacerdotal character of the priests of old. Principally seen in his liturgical presidency, he offers the Eucharist whose sacrificial aspect grows in importance, he baptizes, reconciles and lays on hands.[37]
In the 4th Century Emperor Constantine declared religious freedom for the young Christian Church in his domains. Before the century’s conclusion, in 380 A.D., Emperor Theodosius in the East and Emperor Gratian in the West decreed Christianity the official religion of the Roman Empire. Persecutions had ceased; civil authorities supported their Christian counterparts, and Christian congregations flourished.
A movement in the Church strengthened against the deacons who, because of their influence on the daily life of the congregation, frequently positioned themselves ahead of the presbyters, especially in the eucharistic liturgy. The Council of Nicaea in 325 A.D. declared strongly against this presumptiousness:
It has come to the attention of this holy and great synod that in some places and cities deacons give communion to presbyters, although neither canon nor custom allows this, namely that those who have no authority to offer should give the body of Christ to those who do offer. Moreover it has become known that some of the deacons now receive the eucharist even before the bishops. All these practices must be suppressed. Deacons must remain within their own limits, knowing that they are the ministers of the bishop and subordinate to the presbyters. Let them receive the eucharist according to their order after the presbyters from the hands of the bishop or the presbyter. Nor shall permission be given for the deacons to sit among the presbyters, for such an arrangement is contrary to the canon and to rank. If anyone refuses to comply even after these decrees, he is to be suspended from the deaconate.[38]
As councils and articulate churchmen forced the deacons back into a subordinate position, they perforce elevated the presbyters. Although these still kept their consultative function, the emphasis decidedly shifted to their role as assistants to the bishop and as his delegates in liturgical matters.
Book VIII, Section III of the Apostolic Constitutions deals with the Ordination and Duties of the Clergy. In #28 the writer clearly differentiates the presbyters from the deacons while underlining the priestly role of the former:
A presbyter blesses, but does not receive the blessing; yet does he receive the blessing from the bishop or a fellow-presbyter. In like manner does he give it to a fellow-presbyter. He lays on hands, but does not ordain; he does not deprive, yet does he separate those that are under him, if they be liable to such a punishment. A deacon does not bless, does not give the blessing, but receives it from the bishop and presbyter: he does not baptize, he does not offer; but when a bishop or presbyter has offered, he distributes to the people, not as a priest, but as one that ministers to the priests.[39]
Gradually, the presbyter moved from occasional delegate to ordained priest. John Chrysostom in his treatise On the Priesthood presented a glowing picture of the priest at the altar:
For when thou seest the lord sacrificed, and laid upon the altar, and the priest standing and praying over the victim, and all the worshippers empurpled with that precious blood, canst thou then think that thou art still amongst men, and standing upon the earth? Art thou not, on the contrary, straightway translated to Heaven, and casting out every carnal thought from the soul, dost thou not with disembodied spirit and pure reason contemplate the things which are in Heaven? Oh! what a marvel! what love of God to man! He who sitteth on high with the Father is at that hour held in the hands of all, and gives himself to those who are willing to embrace and grasp him. And this all do through the eyes of faith![40]
He continued on to describe who this priestly man should ideally be: “. . . he ought to be dignified yet free from arrogance, formidable yet kind, apt to command yet sociable, impartial yet courteous, humble yet not servile, strong yet gentle. . . .”[41]
Thus did Christianity transform the Jewish presbyter, elder of the synagogue and representative of the people, into a priest of the temple and mediator of the people’s sacrifice before the Almighty. As Jerome declared, priests have become clergymen “either because they are the lot of the Lord, or else because the Lord Himself is their lot and portion.”[42] Now becomes solidified a distinction between the clergy and laity (Ordo et Plebs) that obtains even to our day.
Conclusion
Ever since the Protestant Reformation challenged the jurisdictional hegemony of Rome, Catholics routinely differentiate themselves from other Christian denominations by identifying themselves with their Church’s hierarchical structure. A Catholic believes in the Church, follows the pope, reveres the bishop, and obeys the parish priests. No Protestant denomination bows under papal authority; some few consecrate bishops or ordain ministers; most emphasize varying degrees of local ecclesial autonomy.
Our foregoing analysis demonstrates that no Scriptural mandate dictates a hierarchical Roman structure. The church in Rome did not claim for itself any jurisdictional oversight of other local churches until the 4th Century, nor did it solidify such till well into the next one. Nor did any bishop of Rome designate himself as pope before late in the 4th Century. Although bishops assumed leadership positions from the Church’s earliest days, they did not exercise any monarchial jurisdiction until the 3rd Century. And priests, the local building blocks of the hierarchical edifice, did not surface as cultic delegates of their bishop until the 4th Century.
What should we make of this? Did the early Christians flout the express wishes of Christ for nearly 300 years, not forming themselves into the ecclesial organization he desired? Were all those early bishops and presbyters, confessors and martyrs, schismatics at best, heretics at least? In such a case which church can rightfully claim to follow Christ, that of the first three centuries or its hierarchical descendent? Protestant denominations maintain that only the church of the New Testament, the one that existed before its Roman and hierarchical devolution can call itself Christian. Citing Scripture and Tradition, Catholic apologists insist upon a firm unity between the unstructured early community and its structured offspring.
Without attempting to prove or disprove the opposed positions, we can say with some certainty that Catholic Christianity does not of necessity have a pope, bishops, and clergy. If we claim an unbroken link from the apostles up to the present, then we must accept that our Church for three centuries had no hierarchical or monarchial structure. If that occurred without schism or heresy, then it could, as circumstances dictate, happen again. Church leaders, those holding positions of power and honor within the hierarchical system, of course dispute this. They customarily assert that this structure must stand inviolable and forever because Christ revealed it and demanded its presence. But that only brings us back to the uncomfortable lacuna of non-hierarchical existence. Must one assert that Christ instructed his followers to become hierarchical only after three hundred years, or that he reappeared later to inform them that he had changed his mind from New Testament days? Either explanation verges on the absurd.
A cursory examination of Church history demonstrates how the Christian community adapted to the political and social environment in which it grew. So, for example, during times of persecution it organized itself in small house churches in order to avoid detection. When civil harassment ceased, the church in Rome began to flex its authoritative muscles in response to Constantine’s decampment to Byzantium and his proclamation of the “New Rome.” Popes appeared who were schooled in Roman law and determined to control their ecclesial empire á là Romanita. Whatever doctrinal disputes existed between West and East, the Great Eastern Schism came about because the eastern patriarchs accepted a subordinate position to the Emperor in the East while Rome proclaimed itself superior to all civil and religious authority. Popes, bishops, priests: they all became part of the Church, not because of any divine command, but as responses to circumstances affecting ecclesial life.
In our current crisis ecclesiastics customarily take refuge in God’s will. Change cannot happen because divine revelation prohibits it. We must have a pope because of Christ’s naming of Peter as “the Rock”; we must have bishops because Christ gathered apostles around him and the bishops are descendents of those apostles; we must have priests because presbyters existed in New Testament times and they are the forerunners of priests. Moreover, none of these may be female because the apostles were male; none may be married because . . . well, Gregory VII said they cannot. And only clerics can celebrate the Eucharist because Christ instituted that sacrament among his apostles, the original divinely ordained clerics.
However, the argument from divine will begs the question. Did the Almighty really lay out for mankind a plan for ecclesial management? Or did God just instruct his people to believe in him, to recognize his existence among them, to realize his presence ever more fully, and to celebrate it joyfully? To put the question starkly: Did Christ become human to found a church modeled on the Roman Empire, or to make abundantly clear God’s love for his creatures?
From the beginning Christians gathered to proclaim and celebrate Christ’s loving presence among them. As days and years rolled by, they organized themselves the best they could so that they could carry out their joyous birthright. Today’s Christians must do likewise. That, and only that, is undeniably God’s will.
[1] Willis, Robert. Breaking the Chains. Lincoln, Nebraska: iUniverse, 2005, pp. 265-256.
[2] All subsequent quotations from Sacred Scripture are found in the Revised Standard Version, Catholic edition, 1965.
[3] Cf. Phillipians 1:1; Titus 1:7; 1Timothy 3:1.
[4] Mohler, James. The Origin and Evolution of the Priesthood. Staten Island, New York: Alba House, 1970, p. 30.
[5] The Apostolic Tradition, 2. Cf. Bradshaw, Paul, Johnson, Maxwell, & Phillips, L. Edward. The Apostolic Tradition: A Commentary. Minneapolis: Augsburg Press, 2003, p. 24. Quoted in McMillan, Sharon. Episcopal Ordination and Ecclesial Consensus. Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2005, p. 5.
[6]Letter LIV.2522. Cf. Christian Classics Ethereal Library: http://www.ccel.org/ccel/schaff/anf05.iv.iv.liv.html .
[7] Epistle X.6: Teneatur subscriptio clericorum, honoratorum testimonium, ordinis consensus et plebis. Qui praefuturus est omnibus, ab omnibus eligatur.
[8] Op. cit.
[9] Ibid. , p. 21.
[10] Ordo 34.30. Ibid. p. 24.
[11] Ibid., p. 27.
[12] Ordo 34:38.Ibid.
[13] Ibid. , p. 137.
[14] Ibid. , p. 140.
[15] Ibid., p. 205.
[16] Ibid. , p. 280. Cf. Benson, Robert. The Bishop-Elect. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1968.
[17] Ibid. , p. 283. Cf. Legrand, Hervè-Marie. “Theology and the Election of bishops in the Early Church. R. Wilson (trans). Concilium 7/8 (1972), p. 41.
[18] Jefford, Clayton N. The Apostolic Fathers: An Essential Guide. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2005, pg. 92.
[19] Irenaeus, Against Heresies, III,3.2. “. . . maximae, et antiquisssimae, et omnibus cognitae, a gloriosissimis duobus Apostolis Petro et Paulo fundatae et constitutae ecclesia. . . .”
[20] Ibid.
[21] Eusebius of Caesarea. A History of the Church from Christ to Constantine. G.A. Williamson (trans). New York: Penguin Books, 1984. 429 pp.
[22] Maguire, Daniel. The Church IS a Democracy.” The Religious Consultation. Cf. http://www.religiousconsultation.org/Church_IS_a_Democracy.htm .
[23] Ullman, Walter. A Short History of the Papacy in the Middle Ages. New York: Routledge, 1982, pp. 4-5.
[24] Hinschius, Paul. Decretales Pseudo-Isidorianae. Aalen: Scientia Verlag, 1963, chapter 1, p. 31: “Propter quod ipsi trado a domini mihi traditam postestam ligandi et solvendi, ut de omnibus quibuscumque decreverit in terris hoc decretum sit et in caelis. Ligabit enim quod oportet ligari, et solvet quod expedit solvi, . . .”
[25] Op. cit. , p.14.
[26] Ullman, op. cit. , p. 10.
[27] Ibid., p. 12.
[28] Ibid., p. 16.
[29] Cf. Feltoe, C.L. Sermons of Leo the Great. Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, 2nd Series, Vol. XII. New York, 1895, p. 117. Quoted in the Internet Medieval Sourcebook: www.fordham/halsall/sbook.html .
[30] Cf. Ps. 40: 6-8.
[31] Op. cit., pp. 30-31.
[32] Chapter 14: 1-3.
[33] Chapter 67: 3-6. Cf. http://www.earlychristianwriters.com .
[34] Chapter 8: 2-4. Cf. http://www.earlychristianwriters.com .
[35] 3:4-5. Cf. http://www.bambaxo.com/hipolytus.html .
[36] Chapter 9: 8-13. Cf. http://www.bambaxo.com/didascalia.html .
[37] Op. cit., p. 68.
[38] Canon 18. Cf. http://www.ewtn.com/library/COUNCILS/NICAEA1.HTM .
[39] Cf. http://www.womenpriests.org/traditio/apscon2.asp .
[40] Book III.4. Cf. http://www.ccel.org/ccel/schaff/npnf109.iv.v.html
[41] Book III. 16. Cf. idem.
[42] L 52.5 “Letter to Novitian.” Cf. http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3001052.htm .
