Engaging with Contemporary Culture

Christianity, Theology and the Concrete Church

Martyn Percy

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2016
• Print ISBN: 9780754632597
• eBook ISBN: 9781317143345
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Religion

Theology and the churches are often considered to be at the margins of contemporary culture, frequently struggling for identity and attention. In this important new book Martyn Percy argues that a rich form of practical theological engagement is needed if the churches are to comprehend their situation in the modern world, thereby enabling them to engage more confidently with society. Drawing on a range of perspectives in the religion-culture debate, and from case studies in the USA and Europe, the book explores the myriad of ways in which culture is now shaping contemporary Christianity, and how vital an appreciation of this dynamic is for the self-understanding of churches and theology. This book explores the crucial and continuing contribution that theology can make to public life, in an era that is often perceived to be dominated by consumerism and secularity. It will especially appeal to scholars of contemporary religion, practical theologians, and all those who are engaged in ministerial formation.

PART I
THEOLOGY, CHURCH AND CONTEMPORARY CULTURE

Chapter 1
Church, Authority and the Culture of Credibility

Modern ecclesiology is essentially concerned with describing and analysing the shape of the contemporary church in relation to modern life and its understandings of God. Put another way, it is the internalized social expression of its doctrinal mind; ecclesiology mirrors theology. The missiology of the church, in contrast, can be more detached from the immediate self-understanding of the church. Whilst it will undoubtedly disclose something of the inner heart and mind of any ecclesial body, it can also at once be more pragmatic and experimental: testing the Spirit at work in the world, as it were. In this chapter, the exploration of Christianity within contemporary culture proceeds in two ways. First, a comparative analysis of writers addressing ecclesiological issues in North American Roman Catholicism is offered, in order to gain some preliminary understanding of how the church is developing in response to crises of authority, reception and public perception. Second, there is a broader, ecumenical focus on the teaching authority of the church, and its relation to notions of credibility and identity. Here the discussion expands to include Anglicanism and some recent ecumenical initiatives, although the shape of the argument has implicature for other historic denominations.

Roman Catholicism in North America: Four Writers in Dialogue

Radical blueprints for reforming the Roman Catholic Church are hardly new. Hans Kung, Karen Armitage, Hans Winjgaards, to mention but a few, have all, in their different ways, advocated radical changes in theological and ecclesiological self-understanding. Whether or not one agrees with their agenda is, for our immediate purposes, inconsequential. Rather, it is important to grasp that each such writer argues with a degree of passion, cogency and tenacity for the reform of the church. They have sought to set out a new schema for the church in which its missiological shape and ecclesiological dimensions would better ‘fit’ with modern times. No self-respecting writer in the realm of ‘public theology’, it would seem, can leave the issues alone.

Paul Lakeland’s recent The Liberation of the Laity (2003) carefully charts the situation of the laity before Vatican II, the achievement of Yves Congar, the teaching of the Council on the laity and the new emergent situation since Vatican II. But Lakeland’s book contains a second part, which is arguably far more significant. Here he argues for a ‘lay spirituality of secularity’, the liberation of the laity (from overt clerical domination), the shaping of mission for the postmodern world, and changes in the way the church is governed. These proposals include greater accountability and transparency, women and married people occupying roles of leadership, as well as the eventual elimination of both ecclesiastical careerism and the College of Cardinals. But such contributions to contemporary Roman Catholic ecclesiology (from both within and without) are hardly unusual at the commencement of the twenty-first century. There is widespread debate, which reflects a range of reformist agenda and discontent, as well as a predictably concerted attempt to try to maintain the current shape of the church, despite much criticism. In order to explore this ecclesiological territory in more depth, a comparative strategy will now be deployed.

Four recent books that attempt to engage Roman Catholic thinking with the everyday challenges of contemporary life are Francis Buckley’s The Church in Dialogue: Culture and Traditions (2000), Anthony Gittins’ Ministry at the Margins: Strategy and Spirituality for Mission (2002), John Fuellenbach’s Church: Community for the Kingdom (2002) and Nicholas Healy’s Church, World and Christian Life: Practical–Prophetic Ecclesiology (2000). The authors are all North American and might, therefore, have the immediacy of their context in mind as they write. No one can dispute that such an agenda is a timely one. Roman Catholics are a diverse body of believers in the third millennium. Furthermore, the relationship between ‘official’ and ‘operant’ in American Catholic religion is under increasing academic scrutiny:

Most observers agree that there is a great deal of diversity among American Catholics .... While there was a certain amount of diversity in the 1940s and 1950s ... the beliefs and practices of American Catholics have become increasingly varied since then. Studies done during the 1950s and 1960s indicated that there was more uniformity among Catholics than among mainstream Protestant groups .... More recent research, however, suggests that American Catholics’ beliefs and practices are now more diverse than they were prior to the Second Vatican Council .... (Williams and Davidson, 1996, p. 102)

But there are now additional problems to note, besides the diversification of Catholic beliefs. The Roman Catholic Church in the USA has been rocked over the past few years by a series of unfolding scandals that have undermined its authority and power. The Boston Globe has led the way, challenging Cardinal Bernard Law and his fellow prelates over their handling of priests who have subsequently been convicted for paedophile offences. August papers such as the New York Times have also joined in the fray and have exposed chronic gaps between rhetoric and reality in the life of the church.

In general, it is a widely shared perception amongst the American public that most of the bishops in the Roman Catholic Church have performed very poorly in the midst of this crisis. The bishops have been reticent about being taken to task by secular law, clearly preferring to keep priestly paedophilia as an ‘internal matter’. They have resented the growing clamour of voices amongst the laity for greater openness and accountability. The newly formed ‘Voice of the Faithful’ movement has been quickly suppressed and labelled as seditious and divisive, despite a clear programme that pursues justice and truth. And in terms of delivering any reform in the future, the bishops already seem to have promised far more than they are ever likely to deliver. Commitments to involve the laity more and to compensate victims have already turned sour. In the media overall, the bishops have shown themselves to be flat-footed and lacking dexterity, tenacity and appeal. A number of commentators have noted that, instead of looking like fathers in God, the bishops more likely resemble a disparate collection of minor mafia uncles. Trusting no-one, and having failed their own, they nonetheless expect to rule to the end, remaining above secular law at all times, sorting out their own problems in their own way.

So four books concerned with Roman Catholicism and contemporary culture ought to be timely, refreshing and helpful. Whilst these books could not have hoped to address the ecclesial cancer that was first revealed in the archdiocese of Boston (and is now known to be very widespread), one would nevertheless anticipate that Roman Catholic theological engagements with contemporary life would be able to make some important connections. For example, at a time when attendance at mass is declining and religious observance is moving from the obligatory to à la carte, what is the connection between the authentic life of the church and its claimed authority? How do you catechize new generations of Roman Catholics when the (so-called) ‘lapsed’ have distanced themselves from many of the arcane customs and beliefs of the church? It is a fact that the majority of Roman Catholics in the USA are in favour of married priests, would not mind ordained women in their parishes and don’t believe that Methodists or Muslims are necessarily bound for hell. But the official teaching of the Roman Catholic Church is not quite in step with the vernacular religion of the faithful. Increasingly, ‘official’ and ‘operant’ religion finds themselves at odds with one another. For most of the time, this is a quiet, unspoken revolution.

In England, for example, the Roman Catholic birthrate has been falling for years. But good Catholic women do not take contraceptive pills for birth control – only to regulate their periods. The ends justify the means. In the USA it is hardly very different. Even parish priests turn two blind eyes: one to the official teaching of the church, the other to what really goes on amongst their congregations. Williams and Davidson (1996), in their study of American Catholicism, offer a generational explanation for the seismic shifts of the last 50 years. The pre-Vatican II generation (born in the 1930s and 1940s) viewed the church as an important mediating force in their relationship with God. When asked why they were Catholic, many participants in the Williams and Davidson study replied that it was because ‘it was the one true church’. The Vatican II generation (born in the 1950s and 1960s), however, were more circumspect about the nature of the church and its absolutist claims. Interviewees were more inclined to see their priest as representing ‘official’ religion which, in turn, was only one religious source that fed and nurtured their private and individual spirituality. In this sense, the Vatican II generation is pivotal, since the post-Vatican II generation (born in the 1970s and 1980s) has tended to be even more liberal and open. For this generation, mass attendance is not a priority; being a good person is more important than being a good Catholic; faith is individualistic and private – ‘what really counts is what is in your heart’. Williams and Davidson conclude their study with these words:

One thing is certain: the hands of time cannot be turned back. Societal changes, as well as changes occurring within the church, leave no doubt that tomorrow’s Catholics will be very different from previous generations. The children of post-Vatican II Catholics will receive their religious education from those who never read the Baltimore Catechism, and are likely to know little about the changes brought about by Vatican II. The conceptions of faith post-Vatican II Catholics are apt to pass on to the next generation will look decidedly individualistic in nature .... (Williams and Davidson, 1996, p. 37)

So what kind of hope do Healy, Gittins, Fuellenbach and Buckley offer for the future of their church? How are their approaches to faith and contemporary culture-enabling, enlightening and empowering? Each author has their own approach to the debate, and offers a distinctive take on how Roman Catholicism is attempting to come to terms with the multiple and diverse pressures of modernity. These contributions will be briefly described in a moment. But the main focus of our interest here will be to dwell not so much on what the authors say as on what they don’t say. In other words, this conversation should perhaps begin where the books finish. Correspondingly, I want to draw out the possible implications of each author’s approach to the subject and invite them to say a little more about what needs to be done.

Francis Buckley’s The Church in Dialogue (2000) is a warm and thought-provoking work that aspires to ‘engage in fruitful conversation with various cultures, academic disciplines and religious traditions’. The scope of the chapters covers a very broad range of topics that will be of particular interest to Catholics: Mary and catechesis, ecumenism, liturgy and enculturation, and so forth. Buckley writes with freshness and poise, and his rhetorical style assumes an easy familiarity with readers. At times, the book almost reads as though one were in a distance-learning process of spiritual formation, being mentored and coached through various stages and negotiations.

Methodologically, the book is apparently influenced by educational studies (although no specific theorists are cited), and Buckley pays considerable attention to narrativity in his treatment of themes. Thus, the chapter on Marian catechesis actively promotes a theology that listens to the inductive reasoning of worshippers (ibid., p. 46), whilst at the same time advocating a deductive approach to the teaching of Marian dogma. The open, listening approach to the insights of the laity for the professional theologian also emerge with some force later (Chapter 6), where Buckley argues for an educational strategy that learns from ‘popular religiosity and sacramentality’. Yet despite these encouraging signs, I have substantial reservations about Buckley’s agenda. It looks to be charitable, open, committed to encounter and dialogue, and yet the text is riddled with unchallenged hierarchical assumptions.

For example, Buckley states that: ‘Christianity is an adult religion, since adults best understand and respond to revelation ...adults teach children in the family and schools’ (ibid., p. 8). What children may be able to teach adults about God, worship, the church, truth, and more besides, does not seem to occur to him. Similarly, in the chapter entitled ‘Building Christian Community’, Buckley has no difficulty stating that:

... sects tend to oppose sacramentalism and institutional structures as unwarranted compromise with the world ... [such as] Pentecostals, Adventists and Quakers .... In the small sect one feels welcomed, needed, understood, loved, and helped, with a strong sense of belonging. But many drift from sect to sect, searching for the perfect community. (Ibid., p. 140)

Buckley seems to be wholly blind to his paternalism and patronizing tone, as though there was no ‘real’ problem with the present order he seeks to gently reform but fully support. So what emerges from Buckley’s text, finally, is a vision for a church that is more open, accommodating, politer and friendlier to all those that it does not understand or know (in other words, there are some good things to say about sects and their members). But the underlying assumption is that all ‘aliens’, including the Hispanic community, on which Buckley writes movingly, will make little difference to the authority, praxis or shape of the church. The church will continue to be guided by an elite group of males who need to adapt to a new climate of pluralism, but who nonetheless must continue to dominate the church. So, the ‘popular religiosity’ of the Hispanics is affirmed but, in the same breath, dammed. It has something to say to the church, but this same group are, at the same time, targeted for catechizing, clearly indicating that Buckley sees their ‘popular’ theology as something less than ‘proper’.

For Buckley, enculturation is something that the church accepts, but ultimately expects to be able to overcome. In enculturation, the church may adapt its teachings to fit a context, but there is little sense in which the culture can help to reform the church, calling it to repentance. Perhaps this is why Bernard Law can be seen on television, sitting in court, scowling at the black female judge who is compelling him to answer questions about the practice of his church. I have no doubt that Law thinks he only need answer to a higher authority, and not to an ordinary court of law, and certainly not to a woman. And that is the problem with Buckley’s book. Ultimately, I do not think that The Church in Dialogue is serious about true dialogue. By dialogue, Buckley only means learning just enough about local culture to translate the Gospel into local dialects, so you can then teach the natives the one true language of the church. There is no real commitment to listen to the world – especially if it means that the world might change the church.

Theologically, I find that this is highly problematic. If the Holy Spirit cannot speak to the church from the world, calling it to new adventures, opportunities and, yes, repentance, then the extensive revelation of God is something less than what Vatican II thought (ibid., p. 5). Now, I am conscious that this is a somewhat harsh reading of a book that tries very hard to be charitable, open and reformist. Indeed, Buckley makes many concessions that some Roman Catholics would choke on (for example, on intercommunion). But the extraordinary interiority of the rhetoric that peppers so much of the text makes me want to suggest that, to even begin to achieve a fraction of what Buckley might hope for, the Roman Catholic Church might like to begin in a different place and consider itself as a more fallible part of God’s universal church, and learn to be a listening body that is as receptive as it is communicative, and as open as it is bounded.

Comparable problems are not located in Anthony Gittins’ Ministry at the Margins (2002). Here we encounter a sophisticated yet practical theological treatise on ‘how mission should be undertaken in practice’ (2002, p. ix). Indeed, it is one of the few books about Christian ministry that I think one could commend ecumenically. Gittins states that his book is:

... offered to boundary crossers of all kinds ... intended for anyone committed to outreach and inclusion ... [it] is a book about ministry ...a minister is the opposite of a master; not very visible and not self-important, but nevertheless necessary ... margins are minimally important in themselves, yet they mark where inside meets outside ... mission often takes place at the margins .... (Ibid., p. xi)

Each chapter is an excellent exposition on its theme, and Gittins writes with an intellectual depth coupled with passion and elegance that serves to strengthen the force of his argument. For example, his chapter on ‘Gift-Exchange and the Gospel’ uses the work of Mauss to disclose the reciprocal nature of mission. For Gittins, mission involves a prior commitment to learn and to change (ibid., p. 119). True mission across cultures involves mutuality: the desire to give must be matched by the obligation to receive. For Gittins, there can be no sense in which cross-cultural missiological dialogue can hide the kinds of hierarchies that are consistently implied in Buckley’s text:

We may have talked to people, but actually talked down to them. We may have listened to people, but perhaps selectively. Sometimes we craved relationships, but only as givers. Sometimes we set ourselves to learn from others, but only as teachers ... our listening, our relationships and our teaching have been impregnated with power, righteousness, certainty, and the control of initiatives ... Gift-exchange may provide structure for our ministry and teach us the place of trust and risk-taking, vulnerability and indebtedness, and mutuality in mission .... (Gittins, 2002, p. 119)

Gittins carries forward his theology of mission by carefully sketching a missiology based on the concept of hospitality. His exploration of the value of ‘strangers’ examines the Christian imperative to receive the alien, to welcome the foreigner, as we too, as Christians, were once aliens. Gittins, quite apart from having a fine socio-anthropological grasp of the stranger–host relationship, is able to take his thinking into finely tuned practical theological insights. Thus, he offers perspectives on the host – that is, rights, duties, obligations and ambivalence (ibid., p. 126) – and on the stranger – that is, as receiver, resource, alien and guest (ibid., p. 131) – before bringing this analysis together in an assimilation of the insights. These include a discussion of how the church can become a more incorporative community, sharing histories, pooling resources, generating solidarity, enriching lives and mediating in the midst of hostilities.

The final chapter from Gittins is an apt crescendo for the book: ‘the missionary as stranger’. Here the author offers a rewarding account of his own missiological experiences, but coupled to rich theological reflection. What is so attractive about Gittins’ work is his ability to see the familiar in a strange, new and more illuminating light. Thus, Jesus on the road to Emmaus becomes a missiological paradigm – a stranger who needs to be received, in order for the Gospel to be proclaimed. But there is also the need to set this insight, as Gittins does, alongside Jesus’ own teaching in relation to welcoming the stranger. The church cannot simply cast itself in the role of ‘revealed’ visitor, expecting the world to receive it. There are many occasions when the church must be the host to the Christ-like visitor and be transformed by the Christophany that is manifest in the face of the hungry, the stranger, the beggar and the prisoner.

John Fuellenbach’s Church: Community for the Kingdom (2002) is a relatively traditional if well put together treatise on the church. Fuellenbach is well aware that the Roman Catholic Church has woken up to the advent of late modernity and found itself in a different world. Noting that there are several ‘megatrends’ that affect the church today (2002, pp. 100ff), he writes that:

People’s needs for God are no longer met in the present structures of ministry. A whole range of new ministries is required. There are 400,000 [Catholic] priests. Of these, 68 per cent care for the 40 per cent of the Catholics who live in Europe and the United States and 32 per cent minister on behalf of the remaining 60 per cent. There are not enough to take care of the sacramental needs, never mind mentioning other pastoral necessities. The church has to develop different ministries and new styles of ministry .... (Fuellenbach, 2002, p. 102)

Fuellenbach is wise enough to know that this crisis – and others within the Roman Catholic Church – will not be set straight by achieving a new level of ‘objective’ talk about the church (ibid., p. xiii). He understands that the sources of theology themselves are multiple: the Bible, tradition and the magisterium; the ongoing life of the worshipping community; the life situation of the committed community; and, finally, the presence of the Holy Spirit. This allows Fuelle...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Half-Title Page
• Epigraph
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Table of Contents
• Acknowledgements
• Part I Theology, Church and Contemporary Culture
• Part II Ordinary Theology
• Part III Theological Culture and the Concrete Church
• Bibliography
• Index