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 Today's commentary from Dr Ian Elmer follows on from the lengthy discussion in our forum in recent weeks on the questions of authority. Who do we believe? It's a long commentary where he re-visits arguments he's presented earlier on Catholica of the history of authority and dissent in the time of St Paul and Ss Peter, James and John. Ian invites readers who are already familiar with those arguments to skip the first part and proceed directly to his "Final Reflections" which brings all this discussion we've been having to some kind of focus. Click HERE to go directly to the "Final Reflections". Peter, Paul and James (Gal 2:1-10) Recent days have seen the forum filled with extended discussions about the nature and exercise of authority in the Church, both recent and in the past. In these discussions St Paul's somewhat troubled and ambiguous relationship with the Jerusalem apostles has been cited as evidence of how conflicts over authority structures have characterise ecclesial politics from the very start.
I have written at length on the issue of Paul and Jerusalem in my series for the Year of Paul. I would, however, like to revisit one pivotal incident, the so-called Apostolic Council, which remains one of the most puzzling stories in the Pauline letters. I won't rehearse all of the details of the Council that I covered in depth last year (e.g., Elmer 2009b, 2009c, 2009d). I would like only to contribute to the present debate on authority by examining the relationship between the three key players, Peter, James and Paul. Clash of the Titans... As we have observed in those earlier commentaries, in Galatians we find Paul vehemently defending his Law-free gospel and his right as an apostle to preach this gospel among the Gentiles (1:16; 2:8) against accusations to the contrary advanced by opponents in Galatia who were advocating "a different gospel" (1:6-10). A significant aspect of their message must have been the record of the events surrounding Paul's early association with the Jerusalem Apostles, Peter, James and John, including the Council at Jerusalem (2:1-10) and possibly also the so-called "Incident at Antioch" (2:11-14). Many commentators on Galatians argue that there would seem to be in Galatians 1-2 a clear reflection of additional allegations by his opponents at Galatia that Paul, like they, had similarly received the "gospel" by way of Jerusalem (Martyn, 1997: 117; Dunn, 1993: 72-78; Longenecker, 1990: 36, 42, 44-45, 64-66; Bruce, 1982: 26). There may also be here, as F. F. Bruce (1982: 101-102) points out, a further implied charge that Paul had failed to preach that gospel correctly, abridging and adulterating the import of the message that he had received at Jerusalem. The story here is one with which we are oh-so-familiar. Last year (Elmer, 2009b), I drew parallels between the situation described in Galatians 2:1-10 and the debacle over St Mary's in South Brisbane. In both cases, the clash has been initiated by people, whom Paul called "false brothers" who acted as "spies" and tattletales, taking it upon themselves to report perceived abuses to the "authorities". The ensuing debates in both cases raised issues about "authority" and how it is exercised within the Church. Similarly, in both cases, the issues came down to the tension between a two different models of Church polity: one of which preferred a decentralised arrangement; the other of which privileged the central authority over the local. Paul's response was to argue his independence of all central authorities by appeal to a direct, personal, divine mandate. Paul insisted that his gospel was neither the product of human tradition nor did he preach it in order to win the approval of mere humans; if this were not the case he would not have been the servant of Christ (1:10). On the contrary, Paul's gospel was the product of a "revelation from Jesus Christ", which he did not receive via any human agency (1:11-12). Appeals to private revelations are always difficult to make. James and Peter had also been recipients of similar Christophanies; but they interpreted their experiences in a very different manner to that of Paul. Paul's experience led him to "convert" to the Law-free Gospel, and later embark on a mission to the Gentiles. The experiences of Peter and James led them to remain Law-observant Jews and even oppose the Law-free mission to the Gentiles (Donaldson, 1997). James and Peter, however, had the benefit of direct historical connections to Jesus. Ultimately their authority rested upon that connection; although, their Christophanies were seen as an apostolic commission — that much is obvious from the traditions about the first witnesses to the resurrection retailed by Paul in 1 Corinthians 15:1-11. Paul and the Original "Apostles"...
Paul was willing to concede primacy to Peter, James, and the Twelve as the first bearers and the guardians of the Jesus' traditions. Similarly, in 1 Corinthians 15:11, Paul explicitly claims to preach the same message as that of the Jerusalem Apostles. Indeed, the whole passage in 1 Corinthians 15:1-11 relates "traditions" about the resurrection that have been "passed on" to Paul from the first apostles. What Paul will not concede, however, is that either Peter or James has primacy over his mission. In a manner reminiscent of his earlier defence in Galatians, Paul describes his credentials as an apostle by a correlation with the Christophanies granted to Peter and the Twelve, James, and "all the Apostles" (1 Cor 15:5-7), appending his name to this traditional list of "Apostles" and witnesses to the resurrection. What seems clear from this passage, and others in 1 Corinthians (1 Cor 1:10-17; 3:1-4:21; 9:2, 8-27; 15) and, to return to our original text, Galatians (1:18-2:14; cf. 2 Cor 6:3-13; 11:23-33), is that Paul adheres to a collegial model of apostleship that views all apostles as having an equal status. Moreover, he challenges Peter, James and the Jerusalem Apostles to demonstrate genuine leadership in recognising the legitimacy of this model of authority (Gal 2:2; cf. 1 Cor 15:10). For Paul, Barnabas and the Antiochene community whom they represented at the Council, collegiality and subsidiarity were the guiding principles for ecclesial polity. Later, when Paul leaves Antioch and embarks on his own mission, establishes Churches around the Aegean basin, he continues to follow authority structures based on the principle of subsidiarity — raising up local leaders and granting wide-ranging authority. For Paul, apostolic authority was limited to those communities for which one was directly responsible. Paul was convinced that Christianity must eschew all the former ethnic distinctions; that the message of Christ was meant for all people. Paul understood that the best model for this message to spread was one that fostered local initiative and decentralised the missionary structures. I would not want to give the impression that Paul did not recognise the authority of the Jerusalem church and, in particular, the primacy of Peter. By following the principle of subsidiarity it was possible to both recognise the primacy of Jesus' first disciples as the guardians of Tradition, while permitting variety in liturgical worship and missionary outreach. Of course, Paul, Barnabas and Antioch were fighting a losing battle. James' rise to power in Jerusalem was conditional on the mandate of the priestly and Pharisaic elements in the nascent Church who were bent on centralising all authority in Jerusalem. We should not, however, be too quick to dismiss the legitimacy of James' and Peter's model of Church polity. There are good reasons for supported a central "touchstone of orthodoxy", especially when it comes to the issue of "private revelation". And, here again, we are confronted with the question of "authority". The Authority of Private Revelations... Today, if someone were to claim justification for challenging the "authorities" in Rome or the local diocese on the basis of private revelations we would have a ready answer. After all, the Catechism delved into the subject by observing that while some "so-called private revelations ... have been recognized by the authority of the Church ... They do not belong, however, to the deposit of faith" (67). Still, the Church has always put great stock in "some" of these revelations. In recent times, the seers of Fatima have reached almost superstar status — especially under the last Pope. Nevertheless, it still remains true that "private" revelations (even those from Fatima) have never played any role in, what the Catechism (67) refers to as "improving" or "completing" the "definitive revelation" found in Christ. What role then do they play? How much stock should we invest in them? How can we be guided to make proper sense of such experiences? The answer the Church gives is that we must be guided by the "the magisterium of the Church and the sensus fidelium". I suspect that this must mean that every such revelation must be judged according to whether it conforms to the "deposit of faith", as found in the biblical record and the tradition of the Church. One could not accept the import of a private revelation if such apparently claimed to surpass or correct the revelation of Christ. But what if the import of that private revelation was in accord with the teaching of Christ but opposed to current practice within the Church? So this deceptively simple explanation still leaves me with a difficulty. Paul's Revelation and the Magisterium of Peter and James... Let us return to Peter, Paul and James. From the point of view of Jesus' brother, James, and Jesus' first disciple, Peter, Paul's private revelation did not take precedence over their historical connections to Jesus. In a very real sense, the teachings of Peter and James represented the original "deposit of faith". Paul claimed to be in receipt of a revelation that was clearly at odds with teachings of the Jesus' original apostles. Indeed, in Galatians (1:1, 11-12) Paul explicitly denies that his Gospel and his ministry is derived from neither human commission nor human tradition, but from a direct communication from God. Now I know I am splitting hairs, since Paul the "apostle" belongs to period of "public revelation". As a model of Christian action, however, Paul's willingness to go it alone against the "magisterium" of Peter, James and John at Jerusalem, to grant primacy to his "private revelation" over the public revelations of the "those who were apostles before [him]" (Gal 1:17; cf. 2:2, 6), stands in stark contrast to the claims of the hypothetical "faithful to the Magisterium Catholics" who would have us believe that it is all a simple matter of "towing the party line". Surely, there have been times when the private revelation granted to one individual has required them to dissent or challenge the Church. After all, the Church indeed teaches that a "private revelation" is binding on the individual recipient. St Francis of Assisi is one such "mystic" (for want of a better word) who comes to mind. His private revelations led him to imagine a new way of being church that challenged the prevailing notions of a "Church triumphant" steeped in worldly wealth and power. Of course, one need not have any such "private revelations" like Paul or Francis to lead them to dissent from the magisterium — which leads me to another, final, albeit related, issue: dissent. The term "dissent" in many quarters is considered a nasty word. In a recent Catholic Answers forum, I read a response to a question about the dissent shown by so-called Cafeteria Catholics. The respondent finished his answer to the question by stating that "Cafeteria Catholics in denial of certain truths are in danger of committing heresy" — to which he appended his signature with an anachronistic "With love in Christ". Dissenters rarely get a lot of praise in church circles, and sometimes they get thrown out of the community. It is interesting to note that the term "dissent" did not appear in theological literature prior to the end of Vatican Council II (cf. Lumen Gentium 25). More recently, the Instruction on the Ecclesial Vocation of the Theologian promulgated by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith in 1990, has stressed the importance of the principle of obsequium religiosum. The principle of obsequium religiosum, as expressed in the Instruction on the Ecclesial Vocation of the Theologian, means that while theologians (and others) can propose their views on Church doctrine as hypotheses to be considered and tested by other theologians, ultimately, the final judgement rests with those who have, within the Church, the solemn obligation of settling disputes and speaking the mind of Christ (i.e., the pope and the bishops). According to this view, one is not giving a true obsequium religiosum if one dissents from magisterial teaching and proposes one's own position as a position that the faithful are at liberty to follow, substituting it for the teaching of the magisterium. There is an apparent assumption here that the "teachings of the magisterium" are static and unchanging, and that no form of dissent from those teachings will be tolerated. What few may not know, however, (especially our respondent on Catholic Answers) is that dissent on many occasions has helped to clarify doctrine, pull the church out of error, or bring Christians to a better understanding of themselves and their relation to the world. So much so that the contributions of constructive dissent cannot be ignored or denied. I think we would all agree that this was the case with both Paul and Francis — but few would consider these two men as anything but exceptional. Dissent is not always and everywhere a legitimate option. Catholics believe the teachings of the pope and the bishops are not just opinions to be lightly regarded or disregarded. Belief in the teaching authority of the church is a part of the faith, and authority is generally to be given the benefit of the doubt. An argumentative and contentious attitude is not conducive to the spirit of unity that ought to mark the People of God. On the other hand, history demonstrates that some teachings, even some that appeared to be solidly entrenched in scripture and tradition and taught at the highest levels, were not as well-grounded as the magisterium as those at the time believed them to be. All-too-often past dissent has become present doctrine. This is certainly true of Paul. His vision of a Church sans all ethnic divisions led to the internationalisation of a once exclusively Judean movement. But we can name a couple more recent cases. One need only think of John Henry Newman, whose argument in favour of the sensus fidei won him the title of "the most dangerous man in England". Newman ended his days as a cardinal and his view of the indispensible role of the faithful found its way into the Vatican II's Dogmatic Constitution on the Church (Lumen Gentium), which speaks of the "prophetic office" being fulfilled "not only through the hierarchy who teach in his [Jesus'] name and by his power, but also through the laity" (35). Similarly, the Vatican II document on Divine Revelation even went so far as to say that very development of tradition and doctrine derives from the "contemplation" and "study" of "all believers" (8). As a result of Newman's dissent, the modern Church has come to the realisation that both hierarchy and laity are seen as "witnesses" whose combined efforts, thoughts, study and reflection lead to the sensus fidei.
Another significant dissenter was Father John Courtney Murray, a Jesuit theologian, who was condemned by Rome for his championing of the concept of freedom of religion. Like Newman, Murray's dissenting view eventually found its way into many of the documents of Vatican II, including the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church (Lumen Gentium, 16-17), as well as in its declaration on the relationship of the Church to non-Christian religions (Nostra Aetate), its Decree on the Church's missionary activity (Ad Gentes), and its Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World (Gaudium et Spes). A celebrated passage of the later document, after stating how Christians come in contact with the paschal mystery of the death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ, affirms clearly that the same applies 'in a way known to God' for members of the other religious traditions. It says: "All this holds true not for Christians only, but also for all men of goodwill in whose hearts grace is active invisibly. For since Christ died for all, and since all men are in fact called to one and the same destiny, which is divine, we must hold that the Holy Spirit offers to all the possibility of being made partners, in a way known to God, in the paschal mystery" (Gaudium et Spes, 22). These two examples, as well as the eventual victories of Paul and Francis, suggest to us that no one can live in a hermetically sealed box oblivious to the experience of the Body of Christ as it has been lived; historical unconsciousness is not an option. The tradition of the Church should not be construed simply as a static body of eternal and immutable truths, which exist separate from other "truths" that we know from our experience in the "real world". And asking questions about Church teaching and their continuing validity or relevance is not, in and of itself, wrong. If anything it is absolutely necessary for the renewal of the Church. The story of Paul's clash with James and Peter at the Apostolic Council teaches us that all are called to wrestle with the tradition and its implications for difficult matters in our own time. At the very least, history should stimulate a bit of humility, making the church at every level less prone to pontificate despite natural inclinations to do so. The church moves and grows and learns through the ages and the Spirit, as John Henry Newman taught us, blows where it will. Ultimately, the "proof is in the pudding". Paul's private revelation seemed at odds to the tradition as interpreted by the ecclesiastical authority of James and Peter. And, yet, Paul's insight and conviction that Christianity could no longer remain a Jewish sect would prove the making of the movement. The same is true of John Henry Newman and John Courtney Murray; but what of Peter Kennedy and Geoffrey Robinson?  Bibliography and Further Reading:
©2009 Dr Ian Elmer |
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Dr Ian Elmer is the Lecturer in Biblical Studies at St Paul's Theological College, ACU (Australian Catholic University). He is also on staff at the CECS (Centre for Early Christian Studies), and a member of various professional associations, including ACBA (Australian Catholic Biblical Association) and SBL (Society of Biblical Literature). His research specialities are Paul and First-Century Christianity. He is the author of published articles in the Australian Ejournal of Theology (AJET), Prayer and Spirituality in the Early Church IV and V, and the Australian Biblical Review (ABR). His most recent publication is the monograph Paul, Jerusalem and the Judaisers, WUNT II.258 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009).
I Want To Know What Love Is 2002 live performance of the hit "I Want To Know What Love Is". Posted in response to a comment on the forum by DavidC: "I sometimes wonder if jerimands against homosexuality, and the like are reflections of the fear of one's own impulses, of fears of where radical self acceptance might take one". 5m 41s [Catholica forum post where Billy first published this 07Aug09] | [WATCH THE VIDEO]
Reports 023: 07 Aug 2009
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