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Jim's PERSPECTIVEMay 29, 2014For we are all baptized by one Spirit into one body…and the body is not made up of one part but of many…The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you.” 1 Corinthians 12:13, 14, 21 Some years ago I teamed as an Assistant Spiritual Director on an Emmaus Walk (a lay spiritual retreat carried on by a beautiful group of God-loving folk), and during lunch on the second day of the week-end event I was sitting at table with seven other Pilgrims (that’s what Emmaus first-timers are referred to) when a particularly unpleasant conversation began. It has been my experience, and not infrequently, that when I find myself in the midst of a bunch of Christians gathered in a religious setting, some form of controversial or theological “God-talk” (that’s what I call it) will ensue. Please understand that these were “novices,” in a sense, so, for the purposes of discussion, the following mindless, loveless callousness should be graciously overlooked. Think of it as an all-too-typical situation in which religious people, because they are conscious that they are hanging with other religious people, feel the need to be religious and give voice to their opinions. In any case, my stomach turned over when the person who struck up the conversation said, “I was listening last week to such-and-such Christian radio (a Virginia network comprised of stations that will remain anonymous), when some co-hosts on a call-in show were asking the question: “Are Catholics really Christians, and are they going to heaven?” He mentioned that he thought it was interesting, and that segued into a discussion in which views both pro and con were discussed around the table. I continued eating and minding my own business, hoping that it would all go away, when one of the luncheon theologians looked over at me and interrupted the conversation with, “Wait a minute. Jim hasn’t said anything. I want to hear what he thinks.” I had been pretending to be engrossed in my hotdog and chips, but I looked up and said, totally spontaneously and un-self-consciously, “I’ve always loved Catholics.” And that’s true. I had a girlfriend in high school who was Catholic, as were two of my best friends growing up. I had always thought that Catholics were the coolest-of-the-cool denominations. They aren’t really a denomination, though, because they are the original church. Everybody else is a Johnny-come-lately. Since becoming a “serious” Christian in 1972, I have admired the church fathers and early Christian writers—Athanasius, Irenaeus, Polycarp, Origen, Tertullian, Justin Martyr, Clement of Alexandria, Ignatius of Antioch, Augustine—the list goes on. One of the Pilgrims apparently thought that I was being philosophic and contemplative, and he chimed in, “I’m with Jim. I think we ought to love Catholics.” But by now I was ready to engage. “That’s not what I said,” I replied. “I meant, I have always loved Catholics. I don’t have a problem with them. In fact, I have some friends who go to the Catholic church near my home, and if you didn’t know beforehand that they were Catholics, the way they talk about the Lord, you would think they were Baptists.” I went on to point out the fact that we all owe our Christian heritage to the Catholics. This kind of put a damper on the rest of the meal time, and no one else said anything more on the subject. But it got me thinking about another side of the controversy and tension between Catholic and Protestant. My father-in-law, Earl Tyson, a Methodist evangelist, for a number of years led tour groups to Israel, and one of the trips was made up of a group of ministers from around the country who had become friends with him. Among Earl’s fellow sojourners and admirers was a Roman Catholic priest who seemed to fit right in as a regular participant. Because this was a smaller-than-normal band of Holy Land pilgrims, the tour company asked Earl if it would be alright with him to share the bus with another relatively small group of Catholic seminarians. Earl said of course and that he was delighted that they could make use of the extra space. Everything was fine, and everyone was having a grand time until they arrived at the Garden of Gethsemane. While speaking with the seminarians, Earl’s priest friend learned of their intention to have communion in the Garden. Word spread throughout the bus, and Earl’s group thought that it was a great idea and looked forward to partaking of the elements together. Once inside the facility, however, the Catholic priest in Earl’s group turned to him and said, “I’m sorry. We are just not allowed to break bread with you.” And then he ran on up ahead to join his “brothers.” I can only imagine the disappointment that Earl and the others felt at such a snubbing and rejection. It was shocking and maddening, but not in the least surprising. One of my dearest friends believes that I am naive when it comes to expressing my incredulousness when encountering religious opposition. After all, these kinds of divisions have been going on forever. My friend says that in railing against such dissensions as unacceptable, I am insisting that “the trees are blue.” “No,” I say, “I’m insisting that the trees are green. In my mind, everyone else is claiming that they are blue.” Saying that “the trees are green,” as a statement of the obvious, is to suggest that dissension and schism are the obvious norms—normal, as in a standard of normalcy. While totally natural, there is nonetheless something inherently abnormal about division. I will never believe that dissension, schism, division, and strife, are the “norms” among Christians—and other religions and peoples—even though they have gone on from the beginning and are so commonplace. And, please, don’t quote to me such scriptures as, “Whence cometh wars and fightings among you….” or “What fellowship hath light with darkness,” or, “Come ye out from among them and be ye separate,” or other self-justifying, mis-applied Biblical explanations and injunctions. It seems to me that opposing sides of any number of theological/doctrinal/dogmatic disagreements (Catholics, Protestants, Fundamentalists, Pentecostals, et al) who cannot break bread together are in effect saying to each other, “We have no need of you.” In his discussion in the 12th chapter of 1 Corinthians on the oneness of the Body of Christ, Paul uses that expression, ”we have no need of you” to serve as an example of the kinds of things that divided believers say and think, and to insist that the divisions leading to such exclusive and loveless statements should not be found among Spirit-filled believers. He pointed out earlier in that chapter on spiritual giftedness—and oneness—that “We are all baptized by one Spirit into one body.” A spirit of division is a denial of the Spirit and Presence of God, no matter how one tries to justify one’s separatist practices, beliefs, doctrines, or dogmas. In my understanding, oneness and genuine unity is the mind, goal and intention of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, and this is the true norm. - Jim Radford |
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©2013 Jim Radford. All rights reserved. Unauthorized duplication prohibited.
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