In regard to
the Catholic Church and Catholic teaching, it is in some ways easier to
define what I don’t believe rather than what I do. Catholic teaching is
simpler to define and these days I am in agreement with the Church on
fewer and fewer of its teachings. Having said that however, it is not even
a matter of what I don’t believe but rather those things that I don’t
lose any sleep over, and dogma fits into that category. Dogma such as the
Virgin Birth, Trinity, Immaculate Conception, Communion of Saints,
Transubstantiation, Indulgences and the rest are not things that I argue
about. If you believe that’s fine, if you don’t that’s fine too. The
question for me is whether I need to believe, whether any Catholic needs
to believe those things in order to lead a good Catholic life, faithful to
the model and message of Jesus. Personally, I don’t think so. Whether I
believe such things are true or not, doesn’t impact upon the faith that
I do have in Jesus, because I live my life according to my conscience, not
the dictates of the church. And as much as the hierarchy would like to
believe it, my conscience is not uninformed or erroneous, because it is
based on so many and varied life experiences, both religious and secular,
that I have encountered and learnt from over the years. That is not to say
that every choice I make will be right, but it will however be based on a
solid foundation.
What we believe is very much a product of the influences that have
shaped our development. So to set the scene to talk about what sort of God
I believe in and my beliefs in relation to the Catholic Church, I tell you
a bit about my early influences.
I really don’t need to tell people I grew up a Catholic. I only
need to say that I was born in the 1950s and that I have seven brothers
and sisters. Must be Catholic. I’m sure there are many of you who grew
up Catholic in that era who have had similar experiences to mine - such as
sitting in the front row at mass and we took up the whole row; responding
mindlessly yet perfectly in Latin; taking communion at the altar rails by
mouth; family rosary and prayer; mass very often; weekly confession;
adoration of the cross; incense; nuns in habits; priestly visits to the
home; Catholic schools; youth group; Catholic friends. I’m sure you get
the picture – my whole life was centered around the church and to doubt
or question was too scandalous to contemplate. I don’t think my family
even had any friends who were not Catholic. Mind you, it wasn’t my soul
that was at risk if I missed mass, it was my physical being I was afraid
for if my mother had found out. My own baptism was very indicative of the
church of the 1950s as I was not allowed to be baptized Kerry, after
county Kerry in Ireland, but instead by my second name Therese after the
Little Flower, who was obviously a saint. I don’t expect there to be a
Saint Kerry any time soon.
Another significant life experience that has impacted on my beliefs
is the damage caused by Vatican 11. Damage may seem as strange word, yet I
can’t think of a better one to describe the sense of hope that emanated
in the aftermath of V2 that has slowly but systematically be crushed in
the intervening years. As such I am one of the many Catholics who had
great expectations of and for the church who are now disillusioned by the
way the church is fleeing backwards to a pre- V2 mode of thinking and
operation. So Vatican 11, which should have been a very positive influence
on my beliefs, has ultimately had a much more negative effect. I realize
that Vatican 11 itself is not the culprit here, but the result is still
the same.
Earlier in the year I watched an SBS documentary called Religious
Right at the Crossroads on the role of the conservative evangelical
Christians in the election of Barak Obama. Historically US evangelical
Christians are Republican voters yet over 60% of the 3 ½ million young
evangelicals voted for the Democrat Obama. The catalyst for such an
unprecedented move was the belief of the young people that the stance of
the religious right was too narrow and too negative. While they still were
staunchly against abortion and homosexuality they were also looking for
leadership that could encompass important issues such as poverty, AIDs and
the environment. Such young Christians saw themselves as citizens of the
world rather than people bound by rigid religious practice. These young
Christians were not only effecting great change within US politics but
within their own religious communities as well. This for me is a great
example of how even staunchly religious people can change and grow without
loosing the important foundations that they hold dear. Unfortunately for
the Catholic Church we have few young people to drive such change.
So to a Creed
– do we need one or even want one?
The Merriam Webster dictionary tells us that the word CREED comes
from the Latin credo, from credere to believe, trust,
entrust; and means:
1:
a brief authoritative formula of religious belief
2:
a set of fundamental beliefs; also
:
a guiding principle (Merriam Webster)
I tend more towards the 2nd meaning as it feels less
rigid, but is also open to many more possibilities than is an
“authoritative formula”.
Within the
Catholic Church the first use of a creed was for baptism, where the adult
being baptized, acknowledged the beliefs that had led them to seek
baptism. Over time however this acknowledgement of belief became a “Rule
of Faith” and ultimately a measure of determining suitability for
inclusion in the Catholic Community. Even today there are many instances
where the creed is being used as a way for individuals to prove their
faith and conformity to the Church’s dogma. When a holocaust denying
Bishop can be welcomed back into the Church (admittedly without Episcopal
authority) because he can acknowledge the creed, it says to me that there
is something really wrong with the church at the highest levels and the
creed itself as neither appear to reflect any real understanding of how
the model of Jesus would be truly present in such a situation.
Interesting
also was the early Church’s use of the Greek word “hairesis” or
“heresy” meaning a “school of thought or preferred doctrine”. It
seems that historically heretics were a valued part of the community, as
they helped the group to understand more about themselves and what they
believed in. Today of course, the word heretic is used often by the
Church, but not in a positive way. The term places the person outside the
community, with the understanding that their beliefs are at best confused,
more likely wrong. Not only that, however, as they need to be kept apart
so that they don’t taint the orthodox members of the community.
The creed
should never have been used as a weapon to support hierarchical power, and
according to Leonardo Boff the use of this power bears little resemblance
to the example of Jesus:
In 1992 he said
“My personal experience of dealing over the last 20 years with doctrinal
power is this: it is cruel and merciless; it forgets nothing; forgives
nothing; it exacts a price for everything” (Leonardo Boff – 1992).
For myself,
there came a time when I could no longer say the words of the creed. I
could not, in good faith, profess things that I had probably never
believed. Such words are quite distant from the faith that I do proclaim.
Of course, I knew the words by heart, but when I consciously chose to mean
what I was saying, I couldn’t do it. For me the current Creed we
proclaim does not speak of things I can take to heart, let alone
understand. Of course, as many of us have done all our lives we can take
these creedal statements on faith and just say them. They are not for me
however a profession of faith, or a basis for how I live my life. Such
words as begotten, incarnate, proceeds from the father and the son, one
holy Catholic and apostolic, one baptism for the forgiveness of sins
don’t assist in the deepening of my relationship with God, my fellow
travellers or the world around me. At some point in history they may have
meant more to the faithful, but today the creed needs to be so much more.
The creed as it
is talks of belief but not responsibility. For me a creed needs not only
to proclaim what I believe about God and perhaps the Church, but also must
include my own responsibilities in regard to making these beliefs real, in
my own time and place. A creed does not need to be too specific, but
rather, like a mission statement, it lays a foundation on which
communities of faith can build their own practices while still reflecting
the principles of that creed. We can then perhaps have one creed that is
invoked in a variety of ways, dependant on the needs, resources and
cultural understanding inherent in a church that touches millions of
people worldwide. Then perhaps the church could truly be universal.
To be relevant
a creed also needs to speak to individuals. This doesn’t mean that it
doesn’t encompass the foundational beliefs of the entire family of
believers, but it must be relevant, on some level, to everyone. In the
mass our penitential rite has us using the first person “I”. Yet when
we reach the creed we have moved on to a communal “we”.
Using the plural, for me, abrogates the responsibility and spreads
the need for action to the group as a whole. This may not be the intent,
but it can be the result. Each person “gathered in his name” should
feel able to say, with conviction, that “I” believe. Without that
individual commitment, I feel the creed looses its ability to transform.
There is no
doubt that as a Church and as individuals we do need to be able to
articulate a creed. Such a creed helps us to define ourselves and provides
guidance for us on the journey. Yet, such a creed needs to be a strong
reflection of where we have come from, where we are now and what we strive
for. It should also not be set in concrete, as in reflecting the church
that we are and strive to become, it needs to incorporate contemporary
understandings and experience. I don’t mean something that necessarily
incorporates every new idea and fashion, but a creed must remain open to
the message of the spirit in all times, all people and all places. A
creed should never be imposed or used as a tool of judgment or exclusion.
As people of God our human frailty means that we will often not live up to
our individual or community beliefs, but as God’s children we trust that
we will always be accepted and nurtured at each and every point in our
journey. I believe that Jesus confirms this for us all.
So while I may
not be able to say many of the words of the official creed, I can still
say that I do believe.
So if I had to
formulate something called a creed, it would be simple and go something
like this:
I believe
in a god who is love, therefore I must exemplify that love.
I believe
in a god who embraces, therefore I must open my heart to all people.
I believe
in a god who leads, therefore I must be prepared to follow.
I
believe in a god who challenges, therefore I must grow.
Kerry
Gonzales. a Catholic seeking change
