[This article originally appeared in The Living Light Spring 2001, Vol. 37, No. 3. Subscribe to The Living Light. Copyright © 2001, The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. All rights reserved. Neither this work nor any part of it may be reproduced, distributed, performed or displayed in any medium, including electronic or digital, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.]

Editor's Forward Divulging the Church's Best Kept Secrets
By Berard L. Marthaler

One of the authors in the pages that follow mentions a book with the subtitle "The Church's Best Kept Secret." This subtitle specifically refers to the Church's social teaching found in papal encyclicals and other magisterial statements, but it might well apply to the whole corpus of church documents.

It is ironic (but not inaccurate) that church documents often cloak Catholic teaching in secrecy when their purpose is actually to elucidate the teachings. Papal encyclicals, apostolic exhortations, and instructions of various kinds are intended to spread the word around the world. Yet many of these documents are not read; even when read, they are not always understood. When church documents were written only in Latin, people did not have easy access to them, and it took time for the encyclicals to be translated into modern languages. Then, people didn't know where to obtain copies. But these excuses for not reading important documents are no longer valid in this age of electronic communication. Translations of most important pronouncements and instructions of recent popes and the Roman curia are available almost im-mediately on the Vatican website.

However, the downside of modern communications is the way that church documents are presented in the media. In the era of headline news and "sound bites," journalists and editors—like town criers of old—herald the publication of new encyclicals and church directives. The nature of their work requires that they capture the essence of a document in a lead paragraph of two or three sentences. Headlines and thirty-second radio spots create an impression that lingers, which is often the reason that people do not read the actual documents. Many readers are satisfied with a news summary that—as they are led (willingly) to believe—captures the main points. Sensational headlines—as in the case of Pope Paul VI's encyclical Humanae vitae (On the Regulation of Birth) in 1968 and in the statement Dominus Iesus (On the Unicity and Salvific Universality of Jesus Christ and the Church) published this past year by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith—put a spin on documents that misrepresent their purpose and make them a lightning rod for controversy. Such headlines focus on a single issue apart from the whole and turn a specific directive into a general principle. Too often the loudest critics are individuals who have hurriedly read the document and overlook why it was written and to whom it is addressed.

Reading is an art. Almost all readers easily distinguish between prose and poetry, and they bring different mindsets to the reading of the newspaper's editorial and sports pages. The accomplished reader instinctively recognizes subtly different literary genres, which in the case of church documents means distinguishing between papal encyclicals and apostolic exhortations, and between the constitutions, decrees, and declarations of the Second Vatican Council.

The informed reader, knowing that the author's intended audience shapes the contents and tone of a document, looks immediately to see to whom it is addressed. Pope Pius XII addressed his encyclicals "to our venerable brethren, patriarchs, primates, archbishops, bishops and other local ordinaries" in communion with the Holy See. Pope John XXIII added "and to all the clergy and faithful of the Catholic world," and in the case of his encyclical Pacem in terris (Peace on Earth), "to all men of good will." Pope John Paul II addressed his encyclical Fides et ratio (On the Relationship Between Faith and Reason) simply "to the bishops of the Catholic Church," but he addressed Evangelium vitae (The Gospel of Life) to "bishops, priests and deacons, men and women religious, lay faithful and all people of good will."

Readers who most appreciate church documents are individuals who recognize them as part of the Church's living tradition. They trace a trajectory back from the latest papal pronouncement to the New Testament. The popes and other authors of the Church's official documents are like the head of the household in Jesus' parable, "who brings from his storeroom both the new and the old" (Mt 13:52). Like St. Paul in his epistles, they interpret and apply the meaning of Christ's life and teaching to the concrete circumstances of the world in which we live. Papal encyclicals, apostolic exhortations, and other instructions—no matter how formidable they appear—are intended to make the Christian message better known. Readers of this issue of The Living Light who take the time to identify the different genres of church documents and learn some basic rules of thumb for reading them will discover the many secrets these documents contain.

[This article originally appeared in The Living Light Spring 2001, Vol. 37, No. 3. Subscribe to The Living Light. Copyright © 2001, The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. All rights reserved. Neither this work nor any part of it may be reproduced, distributed, performed or displayed in any medium, including electronic or digital, without permission in writing from the copyright owner. Subscribe to The Living Light.]

"Rules of Thumb for Reading Church Documents " by Patrick J. Hayes

Ask and Catholic parishioner to give an example of a church document and he or she might reply, "the Sunday bulletin." As informative as bulletins are, they are not the more substantial, lasting type of document to which Catholics cling as part of the Church's teaching or internal discipline. Church documents are obscure to the average Catholic, perhaps especially when reported in the secular press. At best, a document's impact is a matter of abstraction: Catholics may sense something is up "over there" in the Vatican, but that "something" is far removed from the peculiarities of their daily lives.

Although Catholics recognize, in some vague way, that church documents are important and have a bearing on their lives, many (most?) do not know how to deal with them. There are any number of reasons that the ordinary faithful do not give church documents a great deal of attention. One reason is simply the number of documents. The flurry of documentation from the Holy See since the Second Vatican Council is without precedent in the history of the Church. Scores of letters and instructions are issued each year from the pope and various dicasteries—offices in the Roman curia—often at breakneck speed and frequently without warning. To compound the matter, some texts are quite lengthy, making them difficult to summarize and impossible to fully absorb. This avalanche of documents leaves most people overwhelmed. A second reason is that the ordinary Catholic does not know how to sort them out or how to weigh their relative importance. In short, few of the faithful know how to read church documents.

The challenge of educating the Church on the meaning and importance of these documents falls squarely on the beleaguered shoulders of those in the catechetical and pastoral ministries who themselves often need guidance.

Rules of Thumb
What follows are some basic guidelines that will aid in the reading of church documents. By no means exhaustive, this list may lead to further reflections and a greater appreciation of the purposes and contents of church documents. These guidelines apply to three types of situations that church documents address: (1) the teaching of faith and morals, (2) matters related to church governance, and (3) matters related to church discipline. Legitimate questions arising from these three contexts include the following: What is a church teaching? To whom are these teachings addressed? Do church teachings change over time or are they "timeless"? Are all church documents "magisterial"? However, although the rules of thumb given here may touch upon these questions, the guidelines are more concerned with the act of reading for meaning.

Understand the title.
The first thing to know is that the Latin phrase by which many documents are known is not really a title. In most cases, this phrase only hints at the contents of the document. For example, few would know from the opening words of Lumen gentium that this document is Vatican II's Dogmatic Constitution on the Church. Another example is John Paul II's document Veritatis splendor: the title translates as The Splendor of Truth, but the content addresses the fundamental moral questions of the Church.

Know the type of document being read.
Communications from the Holy See come in all kinds of packages: letters, notifications, decrees, apostolic constitutions, encyclicals. In fact, about twenty types of documents appear in Acta Apostolica Sedis (AAS), the official listing of all Vatican communications published by the Secretariat of State. It may be helpful to know that each year the last issue of L'Osservatore Romano indexes the church documents of that year. Knowing the type of document being read will assist the reader in coming to terms with its authoritative weight or the type of issue under scrutiny. Church documents vary in importance in large part because of their subject matter. Dogmatic constitutions issued by ecumenical councils enjoy the highest authority. The authority of conciliar decrees and declarations is derivative from the constitutions. Papal documents that teach on faith and morals belong to the Church's magisterium. A document issued directly by the pope carries more weight than decrees and pronouncements issued by Roman dicasteries. Some commentators have ranked the significance of these communications from the pope in the following way, beginning with the most solemn: decretal letters, encyclicals, apostolic constitutions, motu proprios (documents issued under the pope's own initiative), apostolic exhortations, and papal allocutions. A similar list pertains to documents from the curia, again beginning with the most solemn: decrees, instructions, declarations, circular letters, and directories.¹

Before giving a brief description of these communications, I should note that all church documents have a single referent, namely, divine revelation. No word from a pope makes any sense without some reference to the ideas of church leadership contained in Sacred Scripture and particularly the canonical gospels. Moreover, the purposes of the pope's words are rooted in the advance of the Gospel. However, when people speak of church documents proper, they are not speaking of something on the same level as Sacred Scripture. Even dogmatic statements, while contained in the deposit of faith, are not of the same class or character as the Scriptures themselves.

Decretal letters are formal statements. These letters, which include decrees of canonization of blesseds to sainthood, are surrounded by a high degree of solemnity that witnesses to their significance.

Encyclicals—the most familiar communication to Catholics—are pastoral letters usually addressed to the entire world that attempt to refine our understanding of some doctrine or part of the human condition through the pope's ordinary teaching office. They differ from apostolic epistles, which can be directed to a specific group of people, such as the pope's fellow bishops. An example of an encyclical is Redemptor hominis (Redeemer of Man), Pope John Paul II's 1979 encyclical (his first), which was addressed not only to members of the Church, but to all people of good will.

Apostolic constitutions and motu proprios are documents that take on a peculiarly legislative character when they attempt to promulgate some measure in the Church for its betterment. An example of an apostolic constitution would be 1983's Sacrae disciplinae legis (The Sacred Discipline of Law), issued by John Paul II to authorize publication of the 1983 Code of Canon Law, or 1992's Fidei depositum (The Deposit of Faith), authorizing publication of the Catechism of the Catholic Church.

Apostolic exhortations and papal allocutions are meant to be less inspirational in purpose; rather, they are more hortatory and rhetorical, even though they may be issued before audiences that will be directly affected. Typically, Pope John Paul II has issued apostolic exhortations after each of the world's synods (Europe, Africa, Asia, and the Americas). Papal allocutions are typically made each year before such bodies as the Roman Rota, the tribunal that hears appeals involving the Roman curia.

This essay will not go into depth about the documents that emerge from the various Vatican offices, most of which are legislative in nature, except to say a word about texts that are approved in forma specifica and in forma communi. These types of documents are reviewed by the pope and so carry special weight upon their promulgation. In forma specifica documents have deliberate papal approbation, and so the documents, even though issued by a Vatican office, take on the character of speaking to a papal concern. An example of this occurred in November 1997, when several Vatican offices released a joint Instruction on Certain Questions Regarding the Collaboration of the Lay Faithful in the Ministry of Priests. In forma communi documents, in contrast, have been reviewed by the pope as one aspect of the pontiff's daily activities. They do not indicate the pope's explicit approval, even though they might have it.

Some church documents are issued from episcopal conferences or from individual bishops. These are of a different class or character, too. It is an open question among both canon lawyers and ecclesiologists over just how to treat these kinds of statements with respect to their binding force on the faithful. The issues involved in this debate would take us far afield, but it is important to note that while that discussion proceeds, it has no bearing on the types of church documents issued from the Holy See.

Know the audience to whom the document is addressed.
Pope John Paul II's 1993 Veritatis splendor and 1998 Fides et ratio (On the Relationship Between Faith and Reason) show an interesting development in the use of encyclical letters. While addressing them only to his brothers in the episcopate, he has called them "encyclicals," not "apostolic epistles." While these encyclicals express the pope's desire to have his brother bishops attend to ideas that may be circulating in the local churches, this desire does not preclude the fact that others should heed this call as well. In fact, an educated Catholic should be aware of some of the pope's intellectual concerns because these usually touch on the Church's understanding of doctrine. Moreover, because these encyclicals treat matters of great import for the life of the Church, all the faithful must see it as their responsibility to give them a willful hearing even if they have little bearing on the performance of one's daily activities.

While many church documents have a narrow audience, readers should remember that the Catholic Church is a universal Church. Following the principle that "whatever impacts one, impacts all," the idea that the salutation determines the scope of the message should be viewed with caution. For example, in 1937 when Pope Pius XI issued Mit brennender Sorge (On the Church and the German Reich), the encyclical condemning racism, he did so in the German language. Even though the target audience may have been Hitler's National Socialist government, the message had (and continues to have) universal application. Another example is Pacem in terris (Peace on Earth), which was addressed to all people of good will. Inevitably, church documents speak to the whole Church in some way.

That being said, not all church documents should be seen as having universal application. For instance, certain apostolic constitutions are addressed to colleges and universities (e.g., Sapientia christiana [On Ecclesiastical Universities and Faculties] or Ex corde Ecclesiae [On Catholic Universities]), some to societies of apostolic life (e.g., Vita consecrata [The Consecrated Life]), and some to episcopal conferences (e.g., Apostolos suos [On the Theological and Juridical Nature of Episcopal Conferences]). In these instances, the direct address of the salutation should be interpreted strictly, even though the document may contain some educational value for those not immediately affected.

Know that the document's authors are well intentioned.
The pope, as universal shepherd, wants to lead the Church to God. This desire motivates various pronouncements that, at times, do not sit well with the faithful. Any reasonable person can disagree with the contents of a particular document, either in whole or in part. This does not mean that the faithful should fix themselves in opposition to the pope. Nor does this mean that the pope must adhere to the whims of the people.

Without falling into an all-too-saccharine view that says that the faithful cannot be critical of documents of the Holy See, I suggest that more mature reflection about the authors of these texts is required. Readers need to respect the effort and intention of the authors who recognize themselves as shepherds of the Church. This sober attitude prevents premature accusations against a document's contents. To admit that the authors are well intentioned not only gives them the benefit of the doubt, but serves as a way readers can cooperate with the process of reception.

In discerning how individuals will receive church documents, think first about who the reader is. This raises some questions. How will the reader choose to perceive the contents of a document? What will his or her commitment entail—that is, should he or she choose to assent to the teachings found in the document? Will it matter if the reader decides to accept certain principles if others do not? For instance, reading a document like Dominus Iesus (On the Unicity and Salvific Universality of Jesus Christ and the Church), a 2000 declaration of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, can be of little consequence to individuals who aleady accept what is affirmed in the classical creeds of the Catholic Church. For them, the document is simply a confirmation of their beliefs. But the document could mean something entirely different to a Buddhist or Hindu, who might see it as a direct challenge to their belief system. Even within the Christian family—Episcopal, Lutheran, Presbyterian, Methodist, and so on—there was a mixed reaction to some of the principles of that document.

Learn to recognize that church documents can be beautiful.
Some church documents are not so much authoritative decrees as they are elegant reflections on the human condition as humans strive toward God. Such documents sing to the soul, demand our attention, and remind us that the call to holiness is universal. This does not mean that we shed our critical eye—only that we remove the beam that blinds us to what is potentially a rich, aesthetically fruitful experience.

Where else but in the social encyclicals will the reader find someone willing to extol work as a moment of grace, "sharing in the activity of the Creator" (Laborem exercens [On Human Work], no. 25)? Where will they find the courage to go out into the world, commissioned by the Spirit, to make disciples of all nations (Redemptoris missio [On the Permanent Validity of the Church's Missionary Mandate], nos. 21-30)? When the psalm is prayed to "open the lips" of the faithful, will readers then speak the splendid truth that continually reveals itself in the visage of Christ (Veritatis splendor, nos. 1-2)? These documents lift up the most genuine aspirations of people everywhere: to exist in productive freedom, to do good, and to speak to one another of the ultimate meaning of life.

Learn to recognize that church documents can be useful.
Beyond the esoteric utility of their contents, church documents can also serve as resources for real situations. The usefulness of church documents is that they are tangible efforts to wrestle with real problems. When readers recognize this, they become part of the conversation. They are forced to decide about the issues involved in a particular document or the ways in which they apply its teachings to their own lives. Beyond this, they will not be timid about church documents in the future, so that when questions arise they can be engaged in a spirit that is both critical and respectful.

Learn to "see the forest for the trees."
Some church documents are part of a composite whole, a developing tradition. In other words, they compose part of the "big picture." That is, when a document seems to speak to a specific time or issue, it should not be seen as trapped in that time or by that issue. Instead, consider the document as but one more thread woven into a living tapestry, say, the creation of God's kingdom on earth or the eschatological culmination of humanity. Ask the questions, "How does this document fit into our understanding of salvation? How does this document bind us more deeply to Christ and his Church?"

"The big picture" is precisely how the Holy See views its own documents, at least according to the late biblical scholar Raymond Brown. He notes that in 1973 the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith issued the declaration Mysterium ecclesiae (Instruction on the Ecclesial Vocation of the Theologian) against some "present day errors."² This document provides four principles of how to arrive at the meaning of certain faith pronouncements. Citing the document, Brown makes the following points:

• The meaning "depends partly on the power of language used at a certain . . . time."
  
• "Some dogmatic truth is at first expressed incompletely (but not falsely) and later . . . receives a fuller and more perfect expression."
  
• Pronouncements usually have a limited intention "of solving certain questions or removing certain errors."
  
• The truths being taught "may be enunciated in terms that bear the traces" of "the unchangeable conceptions of a given epoch" and may need to be reformulated by the teaching Church to present more clearly their meaning.³

[This article originally appeared in The Living Light Spring 2001, Vol. 37, No. 3. Subscribe to The Living Light. Copyright © 2001, The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. All rights reserved. Neither this work nor any part of it may be reproduced, distributed, performed or displayed in any medium, including electronic or digital, without permission in writing from the copyright owner. Subscribe to The Living Light.]

Towards "A Renewal of the Biblical Renewal": Interpreting Magisterial Documents By John J. Pilch

Beginning with Pope Leo XIII, the Church has urged the study of languages and the use of the historical method for a better understanding of the sacred text and for more effective preaching of the Christian message.

The Bible is the word of God and the words of men. It is often the primary means of evangelization and catechesis. However, few are aware of the documental history of the struggle to articulate the Church's position in reference to the issues of biblical study and interpretation that stand at the heart of our use of the Bible. The purpose of this article is to provide pastoral ministers with a context for reading papal and other documents relating to the study of Scripture. This information is crucial if we are to take seriously the recent call for "a renewal of the biblical renewal" given by Carlo Cardinal Martini, archbishop of Milan and well-known biblical scholar. Though the Second Vatican Council mandated that the proclamation, preaching, and study of Scripture was to be at the heart of church life, the vitality of the biblical renewal seems in danger of being overwhelmed by a massive increase in the number of official church documents dealing with other matters. Further, it is not always clear how the theological reflection in these documents relates to the Bible. Couple this trend with the constant literalist, fundamentalist readings of the Scripture common in the United States, and one can see that the renewal of the biblical renewal is an idea whose time has come.

A first step in fostering such renewal is for Catholics to have recourse to official Roman Catholic documents on biblical study. To understand these documents, one must know the historical context of the documents. All church documents and statements were produced in response to persons, events, challenges, and publications, but these purposes are not always explicitly stated. A second step is to investigate how the papal encyclicals and other magisterial pronouncements relate to one another. These documents, often issued on anniversaries of previous statements—in subtle and not-so-subtle ways—advance biblical studies, update interpretations that are no longer tenable in light of further research, and back away from positions that at one time seemed certain and have later been found faulty. Popes have too much respect for their predecessors and for the office to openly withdraw earlier statements, but the informed reader looks to scholarly commentaries, often issued simultaneously with the document itself, to learn where new insights are endorsed and old positions abandoned.

Providentissimus Deus (November 18, 1893)
Most scholars date the beginning of the modern biblical renewal around 1893, when Pope Leo XIII, the author of many monumental encyclicals, issued Providentissimus Deus (On the Study of Holy Scripture). Flourishing research by Protestant biblical scholars from the 1870s had challenged Catholic scholars and left many bewildered. Catholics had been searching for ways to harmonize traditional Catholic teaching with new insights into history and the better understanding of ancient languages that arose from archeological discoveries in the Near East. Pope Leo XIII, a learned man, made a somewhat nuanced response to these challenges. In this first papal document on biblical studies, he proposed a plan of study, called for well-trained teachers, and encouraged the use of the Vulgate as the basic text. However, he allowed reliance upon other ancient manuscripts as well, and he urged the study of Oriental languages and literary criticism. Above all, he indicated, Catholic scholars were to be guided by the analogy of faith in their research. He cautioned them against taking positions that were in direct and formal rejection of church dogma.

Especially significant was his definition of inspiration: "By supernatural power, He [the Holy Spirit] so moved and impelled them [human authors] to write—He so assisted them when writing—that the things which He ordered, and those only, they, first, rightly understood, then willed faithfully to write down, and finally expressed in apt words and with infallible truth."¹

The Holy Father rightly identified the enemy as the Rationalist movement (i.e., "reason gone astray") and its followers. Perhaps this explains the encyclical's traces of hostility toward higher criticism and the research of non-Catholic scholars: "The sense of Holy Scripture can nowhere be found incorrupt outside the Church and cannot be expected to be found in writers who, being without the true faith, only gnaw the bark of the Sacred Scripture and never attain its pith."² Leo XIII's chief concern was the defense of the supernatural character of the Bible, and scholars today agree that Providentissimus Deus inaugurated a new era in Catholic biblical studies.

Pontifical Biblical Commission
Almost ten years later, on October 30, 1902, Leo XIII established the Pontifical Biblical Commission, a select group of scholars, to offer guidance relative to new developments in biblical research. Between 1905 and 1915, this commission issued a number of decrees about biblical questions, most of which are no longer relevant or applicable. These decrees were precautionary and, while conservative in tone, were often phrased with subtlety and nuance. For many years the commission was accused of solving problems by fiat rather than by research and scholarship.

Several of the early decisions (responsa) issued by the Pontifical Biblical Commission addressed questions of the Mosaic authorship and historicity of the first chapters of the book of Genesis. In 1906, the commission decreed that Moses was substantially the author of the Pentateuch. This position was essentially a reaction to the Documentary Hypothesis theory, which was first advanced by Julius Wellhausen in 1883 and today is generally accepted. (Wellhausen identified four documents or traditions in the Hexateuch [the first six books of the Bible] originating with four different authors living in different time periods: J [Yahwist, about 870 b.c.], E [Elohist, about 770 b.c.], D [Deuteronomist, 621 b.c.], and P [Priestly, about 400 b.c.]). Further, in a decree issued in 1909, the commission defended the literal and historical character of Genesis 1–3, notably on nine points including the special creation of man and the formation of the first woman from man. This decree was a reaction to critical scholarship that noted parallels between Genesis and other ancient creation stories and concluded that Genesis 1–3 ought to be considered along the lines of those ancient myths.

These and similar decisions of the commission shaped the Catholic approach to biblical scholarship for decades and restricted the research of many of the Church's most able biblical scholars. The best known example of this restriction is probably the experience of Dominican Marie-Joseph Lagrange (1855-1938). Fr. Lagrange founded the École Biblique in Jerusalem for the scientific study of the Bible. Encouraged by Providentissimus Deus, Lagrange urged scholars to study Oriental languages and the art of criticism, and to investigate with full freedom specially challenging biblical passages. In 1897, Lagrange began pursuing research into Pentateuchal sources along the lines proposed by Wellhausen in 1883. In 1905, Lagrange published Historical Criticism and the Old Testament, in which he attempted carefully and respectfully to calm fears about historical criticism and its potential negative impact on faith.³

People in many circles believed that the commission's decisions were targeted at Lagrange. As a result, his Dominican superiors directed him to shift the focus of his research and teaching from the Old Testament to the New Testament. He obeyed and continued his research. In 1948, ten years after Lagrange's death, the commission replied to a letter from Cardinal Suhard of Paris about the Pentateuch and Genesis, saying that previous commission statements about the Pentateuch and Genesis 1–11 were in no way opposed to truly scientific research and its conclusions over the previous forty years. No biblical scholar in 1948 doubted the existence of written sources and oral traditions or refused to admit a progressive development of Mosaic laws or historical narratives.

Criticisms of the commission continued through the Second Vatican Council. In 1971 Pope Paul VI restructured the commission, giving it greater freedom to address issues of authorship, historicity, and the use of the Bible in theology.

Magisterial Documents: 1893 to 2001
Pascendi Dominici gregis (September 8, 1907)
The period between 1900 and 1940 was dominated by a concern about Modernism, which was considered to have emerged particularly in the writings of a biblical scholar and priest, Fr. Alfred Loisy. Pope Leo XIII had declared Neo-Scholasticism to be the official thinking pattern for the Catholic theology in contrast to liberal Protestantism. By separating individual reason from the Church's authoritative way of communicating tradition, Protestantism gave rise to Rationalism, then Liberalism, and finally Modernism, which is liberalism within the Church. To counter Modernism, St. Pius X first published a decree,

Lamentabili (Condemning the Errors of the Modernists), that listed sixty-five Modernist propositions condemned by the Congregation of the Sacred Inquisition (July 3, 1907). This was followed shortly by his encyclical Pascendi Dominici gregis (On the Doctrine of the Modernists), in which the Holy Father singled out and refuted the errors of the Modernists, including their position on inspiration and on their distinction between the human Christ of history and the divine Christ of faith.

Scholars note that the Holy Father condemned Modernism entirely without attempting to distinguish between the value of critical studies and some Modernists' misuse of these methods. Such a wide-sweeping condemnation is similar to Leo XIII's conviction that Protestant scholars cannot get to the heart of biblical truth. Studies also provide solid historical and cultural context for understanding how the problem (Modernism) arose, why it was perceived to be a problem, and why the Holy Father responded with such an uncompromising and sweeping rejection without sufficiently considering nuances. Be that as it may, people had to live with this rejection for a long time. Seminary professors and candidates for ordination had to swear an oath against Modernism at least until the 1960s, by which time all scholars had a different understanding of it. Conservatives used "Modernism" as a label to stigmatize scholars who continued to claim Leo XIII's grant of "full freedom" in critical biblical research.

Spiritus Paraclitus (September 15, 1920)
Issued by Pope Benedict XV on the fifteenth centenary of St. Jerome's death, the encyclical Spiritus Paraclitus (On St. Jerome) commended those who followed the guidelines of Providentissimus and lamented those who did not. Still, Benedict was not as open to those modern critical currents as was Leo. Benedict, caught in the swirl of Modernism, defended the historicity of the Bible. In this regard, he chastised those scholars who too readily took refuge in the idea of "kinds of literature," or as we refer to them today, "literary genres" or "forms." On the other hand, the Holy Father formally condemned the practice of many righteous believers who felt obliged to report to Rome every trace of perceived Modernism they found (and they found many). Benedict believed the purpose of biblical studies should instead be to gain spiritual perfection, to defend Catholic truth, and to preach the Scriptures fruitfully.

It is interesting to see in the documents how often the popes expressed concern for improving the biblical content of preaching. On this point, Benedict quoted Jerome extensively in support of his position. These passages are truly worth reading since they still sound relevant. For example, Jerome wrote, "Students ordained at this time seem not to think how they may get to the real marrow of Holy Scripture, but how best they may make peoples' ears tingle by their flowery declamations!"4 For modern times, the words "flowery declamations" can probably be replaced with "jokes," "humor," or "topical relevance."

Divino afflante Spiritu (September 30, 1943)
The period between 1941 to 1965 witnessed a renewal and extraordinary flourishing of Catholic biblical studies. With this encyclical, Pope Pius XII initiated the greatest renewal of interest in and love for the Bible that the Roman Catholic Church has ever experienced. The occasion for Divino afflante Spiritu (On the Promotion of Biblical Studies) was the fiftieth anniversary of Providentissimus. Pius XII desired to ratify and underscore all that his predecessor Leo XIII promulgated. He also wrote to address concerns of that period in history. For instance, while Leo permitted scholars to attend to original texts of Scripture, Pius required them to work from the original texts (Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek) from which new translations were to be made.

Another significant move forward in this encyclical is a new perspective on the Vulgate. According to the Holy Father, the "authenticity" of the Vulgate is primarily juridical—that is, it is free from error in faith and morals. Its critical authenticity—that is, in the matter of accurate translation—is much less than its juridical authenticity. Because we have better Hebrew manuscripts than those to which Jerome had access, our contemporary translations are in many instances more accurate than Jerome's.

Humani generis (August 12, 1950)
In Humani generis (Concerning Some False Opinions Threatening to Undermine the Foundations of Catholic Doctrine), Pope Pius XII offered guidance to exegetes on evolution, polygenism, and the historical narratives of the Old Testament. This encyclical is particularly noteworthy in that it did not chastise any biblical scholars but was mainly precautionary to all who investigate the topics it considered. Pius XII believed in the value of modern biblical criticism to the end of his life.

The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church (1993)
In its newest document, the Pontifical Biblical Commission points out that the encyclicals Providentissimus and Divino afflante Spiritu appeared in different historical circumstances. The first was written in response to Rationalism, which mounted attacks against the Catholic Church's faith, while the second responded to attacks by people within the Church on the scientific interpretation of Scripture, especially the use of higher criticism. Those who rejected higher criticism wanted to substitute a so-called "spiritual" interpretation of the Bible ("so-called" is the phrase used by the commission).

The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church correctly notes that instead of rejecting scientific criticism as he might have in 1893, Leo XIII instead urged scholars to master these methods in order to refute the enemies with their own methods. Fifty years later in Divino afflante Spiritu, Pope Pius XII could point to the great fruit borne of that advice. In his turn, Pius XII likewise did not condemn outright this search for a spiritual sense but noted that both approaches, scientific and theological, are valuable and should be used conjointly. However, the spiritual sense of a text must offer proof of its authenticity. A purely subjective interpretation is insufficient: the interpreter must be able to show that the spiritual sense is "willed by God" or "given by God" to the inspired text. Above all, however, the exegete must be principally concerned with the literal sense of the Scriptures, which has been a constant theme in all church documents for more than one hundred years now.

The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church is similar to Humani generis in that it too does not condemn or chastise anyone. The document has four parts. In the first section, it surveys and evaluates thirteen contemporary methods of interpreting the Bible, most of which have developed in the last fifty years. Only Fundamentalism is explicitly termed "dangerous" because it invites people "to a kind of intellectual suicide." Nevertheless, the commission spells out advantages and shortcomings of the other twelve approaches. This section on methods is truly invaluable for pastoral ministers and not just those involved in various educational ministries.

The second section discusses "meaning" questions (hermeneutics), notably the literal, spiritual, and fuller senses of Scripture. The spiritual sense must always remain firmly connected with the literal sense as its indispensable foundation: "The spiritual sense is not to be confused with subjective interpretations stemming from the imagination or intellectual speculation" (II.B.2). This comment helps us understand why the commission refers to the "so-called" spiritual sense promoted by those who make no effort to understand the literal sense.

The third section presents characteristics of Catholic interpretation reflecting on the biblical tradition (relationships between the Old Testament and the New Testament), on patristic exegesis, on the task of the exegete, and on the relationship of Scripture with other theological disciplines, especially systematic and moral theologies.

The fourth section offers practical suggestions for applying Scripture to life ("actualization"), interpreting the Mediterranean-rooted Bible for other cultures ("inculturation"), and using the Bible in liturgy, lectio divina, pastoral ministry, and ecumenism.

This splendid document by the Pontifical Biblical Commission is truly a child of its times. Since the Second Vatican Council, ecumenical collaboration has blossomed with incredible results. In the realm of biblical studies, critical scholars of all denominations have successfully collaborated on many projects because all use the same methods and principles. Denominational differences do not enter into scientific study of the Bible. Pope John Paul II noted the reason for this in accepting The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church: "Catholic exegesis does not have its own exclusive method of interpretation, but starting with the historico-critical basis freed from its philosophical presuppositions or those contrary to the truth of our faith, it makes the most of all the current methods by seeking in each of them the ‘seeds of the Word.'"⁵

A Personal Note
An article that I published in The Living Light in 1994 briefly reported that a 1991 meeting in Spain of an ecumenical group of biblical scholars, with whom I have been collaborating for more than twenty years, helped Fr. Domingo Muñoz contribute to the section of The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church entitled "The Approach Through Cultural Anthropology." This section does not mention the meeting in Spain, nor does it mention anyone's name. However, the characteristics of the "Mediterranean person" that are enumerated there reflect the topics of the papers presented by my colleagues and myself at that meeting. Among the characteristics noted is "secrecy." The title of the paper I presented was "Secrecy in the Mediterranean World: An Anthropological Perspective."

It is a blessing to live in the Church at a time when scholars with rare exception need not fear condemnation. The "full freedom" in research promised by Leo XIII continues to the benefit of all the people of God.⁶ As the commission wrote, "This [the necessity of paying attention to historical and cultural context] is what makes the task of exegetes so complex, so necessary and so fascinating!" (8; my emphasis).

John J. Pilch teaches Scripture at Georgetown University in Washington, D.C. Dr. Pilch is the author of The Cultural World of Jesus: Sunday by Sunday, 3 vols. (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 1994-1997), and of Healing in the New Testament: Insights from Medical and Mediterranean Anthropology (Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press, 2000). A third book, The Cultural Dictionary of the Bible (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 1999), won the 2000 Catholic Press Association Award.

From Rerum Novarum to the Catechism on Social Teaching by Thomas A. Shannon

Papal documents advance Catholic social teachings by addressing current issues and dialoguing with previous writings.

The Church's social teaching comprises a body of doctrine, which is articulated as the Church interprets events in the course of history, with the assistance of the Holy Spirit, in the light of the whole of what has been revealed by Jesus Christ.

All eyes, as often before, turned to the Chair of Peter, to that sacred depository of the fullness of truth whence words of salvation are dispensed to the world. To the feet of Christ's vicar on earth were seen to flock, in unprecedented numbers, specialists in social affairs, employers, the very workingmen themselves, begging with one voice that at last a safe road might be pointed out to them. (no. 7)

In the face of . . . widely varying situations it is difficult for us to utter a unified message and to put forward a solution which has universal validity. Such is not our ambition, nor is it our mission. It is up to the Christian communities to analyze with objectivity the situation which is proper to their own country, to shed on it the light of the Gospel's unalterable words and to draw principles of reflection, norms of judgment and directives for action from the social teaching of the Church. (no. 4)

In the world of human beings, the dictates of the natural order are realized in a different way—they must be understood and rationally accepted. And this understanding and rational acceptance of the order of nature is at the same time recognition of the rights of the Creator. Elementary justice on the part of man towards God is founded on it. Man is just towards God the Creator when he recognizes the order of nature and conforms to it in his actions.²

Action on behalf of justice and participation in the transformation of the world fully appear to us as a constitutive dimension of the preaching of the Gospel, or, in other words, of the Church's mission for the redemption of the human race and its liberation from every oppressive situation.

1. Human Dignity
   
2. Respect for Human Life
   
3. Association
   
4. Participation
   
5. Preferential Protection for the Poor and Vulnerable
   
6. Solidarity
   
7. Stewardship
   
8. Subsidiarity
   
9. Human Equality
   
10. Common Good

[This article originally appeared in The Living Light Spring 2001, Vol. 37, No. 3. Copyright © 2001, The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. All rights reserved. Neither this work nor any part of it may be reproduced, distributed, performed or displayed in any medium, including electronic or digital, without permission in writing from the copyright owner. Subscribe to The Living Light.]

Keys for Interpreting Liturgical Documents Liturgical documents must be carefully read and properly understood because they have a great impact on liturgical catechesis and sacramental practice.

The publication of two recent liturgical documents—the English-language study translation of the Institutio generalis Missalis Romani (commonly called the "General Instruction of the Roman Missal") and the National Conference of Catholic Bishops' (NCCB) Built of Living Stones: Art, Architecture, and Worship—resulted in reactions in the popular media, both secular and religious, that serve to remind liturgists, religious educators, and the "people in the pews" that such documents still possess the power to evoke (and in some cases provoke) a wide spectrum of reactions from Catholics.¹ These reactions and perspectives lead to the much larger question of what would be an appropriate set of hermeneutical principles with which someone untutored in liturgical theology might approach such documents.

In light of these concerns, this essay attends to three tasks. First, it notes several hermeneutical "locked doors" that unfortunately bar both the secular and religious press from full understanding. These can be particularly problematic for catechists and religious educators who rely on the media for information regarding liturgical matters. Second, a number of general interpretive principles or "keys" that might be helpful for reading such documents are explored; these principles should be understood as broad hermeneutical strategies. Finally, several practical and more immediate strategies are suggested, especially for those situations in which a religious educator, catechist, or liturgical minister has a question that needs immediate attention.

People engaged in a catechetical or religious education ministry in a Roman Catholic context are the intended audience throughout this essay, though pastoral ministers will hopefully find these reflections helpful. Thus, the presumption is that the reader is not a specialist in either liturgical theology or canon law.

Hermeneutical "Locked Doors"
There exist at least three approaches to reading and interpreting liturgical documents that ultimately result in non-productivity or "locked doors": (1) prematurely beginning with a hermeneutics of suspicion, (2) reading liturgical documents in isolation from one another, and (3) acting (or reacting) prematurely.

Surely one of the more distressing aspects of recent reactions to the publication of certain liturgical documents is their suspicious and critical tone. For example, the revision of the Institutio generalis has been greatly criticized on a number of fronts. Two instances suffice here to illustrate the point.

First, the insertion of the word "sacred" as an adjective to refer to liturgical rites, vestures, vessels, and so forth—that is, "sacred books," "sacred rites," "sacred vessels"—has been criticized by some as an attempted re-inscription of a more traditional and dualistic dichotomy between the sacred and the profane. Comments by members of both the secular and religious media have suggested that this is yet another instance of a plot to turn back the liturgical clock and bring back a pre-conciliar approach to Catholic worship that emphasized too keenly the distinction between the secular and the sacred.

Another commonly heard criticism of the revised Institutio argues that the revision attempts to reassert the old clericalism. This attempt is said to be illustrated by the new emphasis on instituted lectors and acolytes and certain clarifications regarding the role of extraordinary ministers of the eucharist. The directive that the priest give the kiss of peace to those in the sanctuary area is said to be another example of a retrieved clericalism.

These interpretations may or may not accurately reflect the spirit of those responsible for the revised document. The point here, however, is that other "readings" are possible. As a former director of a diocesan office of worship, I think that a number of abuses, albeit well intended, have certainly taken place during the past few decades. Catechesis in which the celebration of the eucharist was referred to as a "Sunday party," instances of the use of clown vestments, vessels that are arguably inappropriate for liturgical use—all these examples point out some problems in the recent past. In light of both abuses and confusion, the idea that the revised Institutio generalis seeks, in fact, to provide some clarifications can be plausibly entertained. In fact, the document attempts to foster a renewed awareness of and appreciation for liturgical vessels, vestures, and persons that are "consecrated."

While a hermeneutics of suspicion certainly has a place in the interpretation of documents, it would be unfair to employ it as the first action in the circle of interpretation. Therefore, the first liturgical locked door to avoid is a jaundiced reading of the documents that actually begins with a hermeneutics of suspicion. Rather, such a hermeneutics should be incorporated after a more irenic and innocent initial reading.

A second situation that often leads to a locked door is the reading of one particular liturgical document in isolation from other liturgical documents and, more broadly, from other non-liturgical church documents. Here again, a simple illustration suffices. A number of newspapers, both religious and secular, commented on some of the directives in the Institutio generalis without due recognition of the Pastoral Introduction to the Order of the Mass. The Pastoral Introduction, while not of the same canonical weight as the Institutio, nevertheless does further clarify or modify some of the latter's directives. For example, some in the media suggested that if extraordinary ministers of the eucharist could not break the body of Christ at the Lamb of God, then neither could they pour the precious blood into the cups. In fact, the Pastoral Introduction notes that they can do this. The Bishops' Committee on the Liturgy had to clarify this point, among others, in a newsletter.² Thus, a second locked door: Liturgical documents and any directives contained therein should not be read in isolation from related documents. The relationship must be understood as a dialogical one.

An anecdote suffices as an illustration for a third locked door. I arrived in the sacristy of a nearby parish a week after articles regarding the directives in the Institutio generalis had appeared in both the diocesan newspaper as well as several secular newspapers. The article that appeared in the diocesan newspaper had tried to carefully note some of the changes that would be inaugurated as a result of the revisions. One of these, of course, was the elimination of the carrying of the lectionary in the procession as well as the use of the Book of the Gospels in procession by the deacon. In this parish, as a result of what was gleaned from the newspapers, the lector was not carrying the lectionary (as had been the practice in this parish for at least two decades) and there was some question as to the vesture of the lector as well as placement in the procession. Needless to say, a modicum of commotion ensued. And so the third locked door, stated simply, is this: Acting prematurely on such documents, especially the interpretation of their contents by the press, secular or religious, can be problematic. Slow down and wait for diocesan directives.

Some Helpful General Principles
These locked doors and some possible remedies having been noted, what helpful general principles might be applied to the reading and interpreting of liturgical documents? It might be helpful here to note what is meant by "general principles." They emerge from the context and the experience of the typical "lay person," that is, the person who is not an expert in either liturgical theology or canon law. The principles are rooted in certain theological presuppositions as well as in a common-sense approach to the reading of liturgical documents. They are not meant as a substitute for knowledge of canon law.

However, before briefly exploring these general principles, I should note that certain liturgical theological presuppositions serve as the backdrop for any reading and interpreting of liturgical documents:

• The priority of the liturgical assembly: This priority is rooted biblically, in part, in the Pauline idea of the Church as the "mystical body of Christ." It has played a rather significant role in the modern liturgical movement and reforms.
  
• The priority of full, active, and conscious participation: This does not necessarily imply that everyone is doing everything at the same time, in the same manner, and to the same degree. It does, however, mean that people should know and comprehend, even in a non-thematic way, the meaning of the liturgical celebrations in which they participate.
  
• The priority of liturgy as the public worship of the Church: The liturgy is not private in the sense of a privatized or isolated experience. Likewise, the liturgy is the official public worship of the Church and thus can be distinguished from devotion.
  
• The priority of the spiritual well-being of the faithful: The goal of the liturgy is both the glorification of God as well as the sanctification of people.

[This article originally appeared in The Living Light Spring 2001, Vol. 37, No. 3. Copyright © 2001, The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. All rights reserved. Neither this work nor any part of it may be reproduced, distributed, performed or displayed in any medium, including electronic or digital, without permission in writing from the copyright owner. Subscribe to The Living Light.]

Dominus Iesus: The Document and the "Spin" By Douglas Clark

Headlines and editorial comments misled readers as to the purpose and content of Dominus Iesus.

Last fall's interminably long political season when "spin doctors" dominated the media also affected the press's response to the Vatican document Dominus Iesus (On the Unicity and Salvific Universality of Jesus Christ and the Church). Secular papers as well as editors in the Catholic press could not avoid the issue of "spin," that is, adding a subjective opinion to the reporting. One headline of the Washington Post (September 6, 2000) read, "Vatican Claims Church Monopoly on Salvation," while the Los Angeles Times (September 7, 2000) ran the headline "Salvation that Reopens the Door to Intolerance." No responsible editor of a Catholic newspaper, however, would even consider spinning the news in the rather shameless way common to political flacks. But the challenge of keeping the news objective is not limited to political reporting. A Catholic diocesan newspaper has the obligation to report pronouncements of the Church's magisterium honestly and in such a way as to gain them a fair hearing even when the message may be unpopular. The Catholic press's reporting of Dominus Iesus, issued September 5, 2000, by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith is an excellent example of this editorial dilemma. In this essay I describe how the Southern Cross, the newspaper of the Diocese of Savannah, Georgia, of which I am the editor, handled the story, and I share some of the insights gained from the experience.

The first thing required when reporting on news that may be unpopular to many is accuracy. The Catholic News Service (CNS) offered a clear précis of Dominus Iesus in its news releases, while Origins printed the full thirty-six-page text. We at the Southern Cross decided to run the document as a front-page story in our September 16 issue. Because the CNS release not only offered a fair and logical summary of the document but also included a range of reactions from Catholic and other religious leaders, we decided to keep the CNS headline, "Vatican Document Warns Against Concessions to Religious Pluralism." This decision turned out to be fortunate for us, as one neighboring diocese ran the story with its own headline, "Catholic Christianity Necessary for Salvation" (echo of Pope Boniface VIII's doctrine "no salvation outside the Church"), a headline that caused an avalanche of complaints that reached the diocesan bishop, who then felt obliged to write a column expressing his regret at the headline and giving his own helpful exegesis of the document.

In the same Southern Cross issue, I penned an editorial entitled "Not Pride, but Humility," which gave my interpretation of the document. I saw Dominus Iesus as a reiteration of the teachings of the Second Vatican Council. I emphasized the parallel between the document's insistence on the unique saving role of Jesus and the universal mission of the Catholic Church, and drew some implications of this parallel teaching:

When anyone, Christian or not, receives God's grace, he or she is receiving Christ, who is that grace, consciously or not. If a Jew, a Moslem, or even a Hindu or a Buddhist outshines a professed Christian in the living out of the grace received, it is to the Christian's shame.

Likewise, all baptized believers belong, to some degree, to the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church; theologically speaking, there is no other. But it should be noted that "denominational" Christians, whose communities may lack one or more of the means of salvation abundantly present in the Catholic Church, may make greater use of them in their journeys of faith than do some Catholics, again to the shame of the latter. Not pride but humility prompts the Church to confess Jesus Christ as savior and herself as his gift.

[This article originally appeared in The Living Light Spring 2001, Vol. 37, No. 3. Copyright © 2001, The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. All rights reserved. Neither this work nor any part of it may be reproduced, distributed, performed or displayed in any medium, including electronic or digital, without permission in writing from the copyright owner. Subscribe to The Living Light.]

Christ Will Come Again By Frank J. Matera

The story of Jesus did not end with the cross. Indeed it has not ended at all.

Every Sunday, when we recite the creed, we profess our faith that "he will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end." Then, at the eucharistic acclamation, we proclaim, "Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again." Finally, after reciting the Lord's Prayer, the priest prays, "Deliver us Lord, from every evil, and grant us peace in our day. In your mercy keep us free from all anxiety as we wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ." All these elements from the liturgy make clear that the Second Coming, the return of Christ—what the New Testament calls the "parousia"—plays a central role in our Christian faith. Indeed, were we to live our faith apart from this hope, our faith would be seriously deficient.

However, this hope that Christ will come again is somewhat puzzling, if not embarrassing, to many contemporary believers. If asked, "Do you believe that Christ will come again?" many, if not most, would respond, "Yes! But not in my lifetime." Such an answer is not surprising. After all, Christians throughout history have sold their possessions, gathered in community, and fervently waited for the Second Coming—only to be disappointed.

The simple fact is that we have been waiting for Christ to come again for two thousand years. Why should we continue to hope that he will come again? Before presenting an answer, a review of the biblical concept "the day of the Lord" is in order.

The Old Testament and the Day of the Lord

At the core of Israel's faith was a firm conviction that God would come in power to judge the nations and vindicate his people, Israel. This day of vindication was called "the day of Yahweh," or "the day of the Lord." Originally, it was to be a day on which God would punish Israel's enemies and vindicate his people. But as the concept developed, some of Israel's prophets realized that "the day of the Lord" would bring judgment and punishment to unfaithful Israel as well as to other nations. Particularly powerful statements about the day of the Lord are found in the prophets Amos and Zephaniah.

Woe to those who yearn for the day of the Lord!
What will this day of the Lord mean for you?
Darkness and not light!
As if a man were to flee from a lion,
and a bear should meet him;
Or as if on entering his house
he were to rest his hand against the wall
and a snake should bite him.
Will not the day of the Lord be darkness and not light,
gloom without any brightness? (Am 5:18-20)
Near is the great day of the Lord,
near and very swiftly coming;
Hark, the day of the Lord!
bitter, then, the warrior's cry.
A day of wrath is that day,
a day of anguish and distress,
A day of destruction and desolation,
a day of darkness and gloom,
A day of thick black clouds,
a day of trumpet blasts and battle alarm. . . . (Zep 1:14-16)

The concept of the day of the Lord was central to Israel's faith. On the one hand, Israel was confident that God would vindicate her on that day because her people were God's people. On the other hand, the people of Israel were deeply aware that the day of the Lord might also be a day of severe judgment for them as well as for the nations, if they were not faithful to God's covenant.

Jesus and the Day of the Lord

Jesus was a Jew, one of the people of Israel. Accordingly, his faith and his hope were nourished by the faith and hope of his people. Nurtured by Israel's scriptures, he knew that there would be a day of reckoning, a day of the Lord when God would manifest himself in power and majesty.

John the Baptist announced this day when he warned Israel to flee from the coming wrath. He baptized the crowds with water and prophesied that a mightier one would come, one who would baptize them with Holy Spirit and with fire: "He will clear his threshing floor and gather his wheat into his barn, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire" (Mt 3:12).

In this way John set the stage for Jesus, who announced that the time of waiting and hoping was fulfilled, and that the kingdom of God was making its appearance in his life and ministry. This kingdom was God's own rule; as Jesus proclaimed, God's rule was now invading human history and reclaiming creation anew. Thus Jesus cast out demons, healed the sick, ate with sinners, and called them to repentance because he knew that the kingdom of God was making its appearance in his life and ministry.

The ministry of Jesus did not completely correspond to what John the Baptist had anticipated. For while John expected a Messiah who would immediately cleanse and judge Israel, Jesus proclaimed God's rule in a surprising manner that manifested the abundant grace and mercy of God as well as God's judgment.

Jesus, however, was aware that although the kingdom of God had made its appearance in his life and ministry, its power and glory were still hidden. Thus, Jesus looked to a day when the rule of God, which his ministry inaugurated, would be established in power, might, and glory. To express this coming power and glory, Jesus spoke of his own return at the end of the ages when he would appear as the glorious Son of Man to gather his elect and judge the nations. Toward the end of his ministry, therefore, Jesus delivered a discourse in which he predicted that the temple of Jerusalem would be destroyed and that he would return on the clouds of heaven:

Immediately after the tribulation of those days,
the sun will be darkened,
and the moon will not give its light,
and the stars will fall from the sky,
and the powers of the heavens will be shaken.

And then the sign of the Son of Man will appear in heaven, and all the tribes of the earth will mourn, and they will see the Son of Man coming upon the clouds of heaven with power and great glory. And he will send out his angels with a trumpet blast, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of the heavens to the other. (Mt 24:29-31)

[This article originally appeared in The Living Light Spring 2001, Vol. 37, No. 3. Copyright © 2001, The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. All rights reserved. Neither this work nor any part of it may be reproduced, distributed, performed or displayed in any medium, including electronic or digital, without permission in writing from the copyright owner. Subscribe to The Living Light.]

Harry Potter, Hope, and Holiness By Harold Daly Horell

The Harry Potter series affirms that it is still possible to distinguish between good and evil and to remain true to our friends.

From Magic to Holiness

One night at dinner my wife Barbara and I asked our sons, Brendan and Gareth, when they experienced joy and hope in life. Brendan mentioned that reading good books (like Robin Hood and Harry Potter) and swimming were two of the things he found most exhilarating. Noting that he particularly enjoyed the magical qualities of J. K. Rowling's world of Harry Potter because it sparked his imagination, Brendan reported that while reading the Harry Potter series his mind was opened up or expanded and he felt a sense of wholeness.1 Sometimes, he said, he got a similar feeling of wholeness at swim practice or meets.

My son's comments led me to think about possible links between a contemporary understanding of holiness and the Harry Potter books. During the recent past and to some extent today it has been common to think of holiness as meaning set apart. Thus understood, holy space is sacred space that stands in contrast to all that is profane or secular. Today, however, holiness is more frequently thought of in terms of wholeness or completeness. From a contemporary theological perspective, the call to holiness is a call to be open to the experience of God's presence within all the events of life as a presence that makes whole or complete all that one does. In and through the events of the world, the pluralism of modern living, the complex decisions and conflicting values they must struggle with, contemporary Christians are called to seek the presence of God as a healing—and one might say wholing—presence as they strive to be the people of God.

Drawing on the imagery of the Harry Potter series, one can describe a contemporary understanding in terms of an openness to the wondrous, magical qualities of life. Just as magic seemed amazing and beyond Harry when he first encountered it, the holy or divine can seem at times to be something astonishing and beyond us as Christians. However, participation in communities of faith and ongoing faith formation can enable us to recognize that holiness permeates our world, that all of creation reflects the goodness and holiness of the Creator. In a way that parallels Harry's educational journey at Hogwarts, we as Christians can learn that we need to align ourselves with, rather than trying to control, the power of holiness in our lives and world. Moreover, just as Harry, as a member of Gryffindor house, discovered that magic and morality go together, we as members of Christian communities can learn that we cannot be fully open to God unless we are open to recognizing the dignity of other persons as beings made in the image and likeness of God. Overall, just as Harry discovered magic as something that expanded his sense of himself and the world, we Christians can discover a sense of the holy within everyday life as something that completes or makes whole all that we do and all that we are. This fosters a greater appreciation for the wondrous, even magical, dimensions of our world.

Popularity and Influence

The Harry Potter series has received international acclaim and deeply touched the hearts and minds of many. People of all ages read and reread all four books and are awaiting the next three. Rowling is greeted by overflowing crowds everywhere she travels; fans flock to her book signings as if she were a rock star or teen idol. In my home my spouse and I and our twin ten-year-old sons eagerly await the fifth book.

The popularity of the Harry Potter series is due in part to the extraordinary imagination of the author. Harry is a likeable boy who is famous in the wizarding world as the only person ever to survive an attack by the evil Voldemort, an assault that killed Harry's parents and marked him for life with a lightning-bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. Rowling conjures a fascinating wizarding world: the people in photographs actually wave; owls deliver mail; and the most popular sport is Quidditch, which involves four different-sized balls, six hoops, and two teams of seven players, each of whom ride broomsticks. Rowling draws her characters and imaginative world into page-turning plots that keep readers thirsting for more. In short, Rowling is a wonderful storyteller.

The success of the Harry Potter series, however, goes beyond the telling of a great tale. Rowling's popularity comes from her ability to capture the spirit of our increasingly postmodern age. We are in the midst of a broad cultural shift in the way people understand and make sense of their lives and the world. This movement is referred to frequently as a shift away from the certainty and confidence of modernity to the greater ambiguity of postmodernity. Within the increasingly postmodern present is also a deep hunger for meaning. People strive to move beyond the complexities of these time to affirm fundamental truths and values. Rowling speaks to the tumult of these times through Harry Potter and his friends. Their lives are often marked by conundrums, secrets, and seemingly impossible situations. Yet Rowling has a gift for turning confusion into adventure and chaos into new creation. As Harry and his companions battle the forces of chaos, Rowling leads us to see the unfamiliar not only as threatening but also as magical and even wondrous. She affirms our hope that it is still possible to distinguish between good and evil, and to strive to make good life choices and remain true to ourselves, our friends, and our commitments even in the midst of head-spinning, postmodern complexity and ambiguity.

Homelessness and Hope

We live in uncertain times. Increasing social mobility often leads people to feel that they have no true home, that they lack a sense of being rooted. The fast pace of contemporary life can leave us feeling harried and confined by the circumstances of our lives. The speed and complexity of cultural and technological change seem to dominate our lives, producing feelings of inadequacy and threatening to engulf us.

When readers turn to Harry Potter we find someone who can share our sense of homelessness and anxiety about the uncertainties of life. Harry is an orphan who becomes an unwanted guest in the house of his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon Dursley. He is forced to spend much of his early childhood confined to a cramped cupboard under the stairs. The Dursley's son, Dudley, takes a perverse delight in beating up and belittling Harry, constantly reminding him that he is smaller and weaker.

Harry's life improves at age eleven when he leaves the Dursleys to enroll at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, yet he is never fully at ease in his new surroundings. Harry is famous and, as a result, is frequently set apart from his classmates. Moreover, having been raised by the Dursleys—people who fear and avoid anything having to do with magic—Harry is unprepared for the wizarding world and sometimes overwhelmed by what he finds there. Finally, the more Harry understands about Hogwarts and wizardry, the more confusing things appear.

Despite Harry's lack of a true home and the bewildering complexities of his life, Harry displays a remarkable sense of centeredness, wholeness, and an ability to act wisely. Like the mythical phoenix, Harry rises from the ashes of impoverishment and struggles to find new life and hope. He is, after all, the only person ever to have survived the dreaded Avada Kedavra death curse (HP I, 17; HP IV, 216). Through all that happens to him, Harry retains a confidence in himself that is rooted in the knowledge that he is special, that his life has been marked by unique strengths. Moreover, after growing up in the Dursley house—a house characterized by prejudice, fear, and greed—Harry emerges as a pre-teen who is trusting, curious, generous, and open to new ideas. Harry may be immature and a bit arrogant at times, but he is never mean-spirited.

Overall, Harry Potter emerges throughout the series as a symbol of hope. His enthusiasm for life despite a deeply impoverished childhood suggests that feelings of homelessness need not lead to paralysis. Harry's optimism and sensitivity support our hope that it is worthwhile to strive to overcome whatever confines us and keeps us from growing and developing as individuals. As with Harry, the circumstances of our lives, our families, and perhaps the institutions of which we are a part may at times constrict our outlook on life or foster prejudice, fear, and injustice. Still, these foundational faults need not lead us to despair. Harry Potter invites us to imagine ways of emerging from these confining spaces as people who are open to others, who can distinguish good from evil, and who have a thirst for justice. Our world, like Harry's, may seem at times to be filled with complexity, ambiguity, and unanswered questions. Yet Harry's adventures encourage us to believe that even when we do not have all the answers, when we do not have some meta-narrative or grand story within which we find our niche of meaning, we can know enough to make good life choices that move us toward the realization of personal and social good. From a Christian faith perspective, Harry Potter's hope affirms our belief that the goodness and blessedness of God can still be discerned in our lives and world, even amidst the complexities and ambiguities of our time.

The Inspiration of Harry Potter's Hope

As readers are drawn into the world of Harry Potter, we come to understand the factors that have shaped his life. First, Harry's life is affected deeply by the love of his parents. Even though they died when he was an infant, Harry is able, in the first book, to meet his parents by gazing into Erised, the magic mirror of desire, to see them magically reflected back. In book two, Harry learns an important truth about the power of nurturing love. The protective cloak of his mother's love insulated the infant Harry from Voldemort's evil curses. In the next year at Hogwarts (HP III), Harry learns that his father possessed the rare magical ability to transform into a stag. When, during a climatic moment, Harry masters the difficult spell of conjuring a Patronus—a guardian that can serve as a kind of protective shield from despair—Harry's Patronus takes the form of a stag, connecting him intimately to his dead father and arguably serving him as a magical father figure (HP III, 411-412). Then, in book four, in a kind of magical echo, Harry's parents appear from beyond death to aid him in a duel with Voldemort.

Beyond the power of his parents' love, Harry benefits from the guidance of Albus Dumbledore, the Hogwarts headmaster. It is Dumbledore who leaves Harry to be raised by the Dursleys (HP I, 13). During Harry's four years (thus far) at Hogwarts, Dumbledore mentors Harry as he approaches pivotal moments of decision. Dumbledore's unobtrusive wisdom keeps Harry from being entranced by the Mirror of Erised, saves him from being killed by one of Voldemort's most devoted servants, and instructs Harry about how to protect himself, his friends, and his teachers when they face life-threatening dangers crossing the grounds at Hogwarts. Just as importantly, Dumbledore is present at key moments to listen and to help Harry sort out his thoughts about the confusing twists and turns of his life.

Harry's own choices also shape his life in significant ways. While the love of his parents and the wise guidance of Dumbledore provide a foundation for Harry's life, Harry's own decisions shape how he sees the world and who he becomes as a person. Even though he grows up in an atmosphere of ignorance and selfishness in the Dursley household, Harry remains open-minded, trusting, and positive, partly because of the choices he makes. On the day he arrives at Hogwarts, Harry is required to make a fundamental life choice. Harry can focus on using his wizarding powers to seek courageously what is good and true, or he can develop his abilities in order to seek greatness and power. Harry chooses the nobler path: honor over ambition, bravery over cunning. His choice so profoundly affects the way he perceives and responds to life events that Voldemort attempts, by way of a dream, to bully Harry into changing his mind (HP I, 130).

The community of Gryffindor house provides another major life-shaping factor for Harry. Hogwarts students reside in four separate houses. Slytherin house is known for the ruthless ambition of its students and graduates. In contrast, Gryffindor is known for daring and chivalry (HP IV, 118). One of Harry's major life choices involves wanting to be in Gryffindor rather than Slytherin or one of the other two houses. Gryffindor is where Harry finds friends and learns about life in the wizarding world. His sense of hope and his courage are developed further through his relationships among his new family in Gryffindor house.

As readers become immersed in Harry Potter's world, some of our most positive and hopeful convictions, including our faith convictions, are reinforced. We find ourselves more firmly convinced that no matter how ambiguous and confusing life may seem at times, the power of love can still make a difference in our lives and world. We are inspired to strive to be more loving and Christ-like. In being drawn to Dumbledore, we come to recognize more clearly the positive role played in our lives by wisdom figures and mentors, including wise Christian women and men—both those whom we know and those from history. We may also be more open to becoming mentors ourselves. When we turn from Harry back to the ambiguities and complexities of our everyday lives, we take with us a firmer sense that the choices we make are not insignificant, that they both show what we truly are and deeply impact who we are becoming. Traveling with Harry in our reading deepens our appreciation of the importance of our communities of faith and friendship. As a result, we find ourselves more willing to seek the support we need from these communities and to contribute our time and talents to them so that they can be places of nurture for others.

Magic, Magic Everywhere

Anyone exploring Rowling's books must take note of another important dimension of Harry Potter's world: It is shot through with magic. Harry first becomes aware of the realm of magic when he receives a mysterious letter in a yellow parchment envelope. Uncle Vernon destroys that letter and others that follow it. Still, the letters continue to arrive until one is delivered personally to Harry by Hagrid, the giant-sized gamekeeper of Hogwarts. When Harry meets Hagrid he is amazed at the aura of magic surrounding the man. Harry learns from Hagrid that the whole world is full of magic and that Harry's parents were powerful wizards.

Harry's astonishment at the world of magic fades during his first days at Hogwarts, during which he learns that magic is hard work (HP I, 133). At this stage, Harry approaches magic as a discipline to be studied and mastered.

During his time at Hogwarts, however, Harry's understanding of magic continues to evolve. He gradually regains an appreciation for the amazing qualities of magic and the magical, wondrous qualities of life. He begins to see magic as a force that one taps into or aligns oneself with, rather than as something to be controlled. Moreover, Rowling tells us that the series will end with Harry's coming of age in the wizarding world. As we look ahead to future books we can expect to find Harry exploring interconnections, and perhaps mutual dependencies, between his sense of himself and the powers of magic. Harry is learning that he needs to align himself with the powers of magic to express himself. At the same time he is coming to recognize that he, allied with his Hogwarts community, is needed in the wizarding world to give wholesome expression to the magic of life.

Harry Potter's attitude toward magic stands in contrast to the view held by non-magic people, referred to as Muggles. Most Muggles prefer to avoid magic. For many this avoidance is rooted in fear. Vernon Dursley, for instance, will not tolerate having what he calls the M-word said in his house. He shies away from everything magical because he sees magic as a kind of time bomb that could go off and destroy his nicely ordered world (cf. HP II, 2).

The differences between the Gryffindor and Slytherin houses also reveal an important dimension of Harry Potter's understanding of magic. While Harry and the other members of Gryffindor house focus on aligning themselves with the flow of magic, Slytherins regard magic as a force to be mastered and controlled. While Gryffindors are drawn to good and avoid evil, Slytherins are drawn to power and avoid weakness. The contrast between the two houses is seen clearly in their Quidditch matches. Gryffindors seek to play their best according to the rules and if possible to win. Slytherins seek to win at any cost (cf. HP I, 184-193; HP II, 166-173). For Gryffindors an openness to the magical (or what we might call wondrous, or even spiritual) dimensions of life must be linked to a basic sense of morality and a respect for persons as persons. For Slytherins, in contrast, magic is primarily a power of self-aggrandizement, and any sense of justice or care for others is likely to be regarded as a sign of weakness. The high moral and magical ideals of Gryffindor house are personified in the wise and discerning Dumbledore, a former head of the house and current headmaster of all of Hogwarts. In contrast, Slytherins are drawn to the dark arts of magic, epitomized by Voldemort, their most infamous graduate. Those drawn to the dark arts gain power by using magic to frighten their victims and prey upon their insecurities.

More Than Meets the Eye

Through her appeal to magic, Rowling expresses an ambivalent hope about possibilities for contemporary spiritual and moral renewal. On the one hand, the modern age was the age of secularization. Great efforts were made to replace all that was seen as magical, supernatural, and religious with scientific explanations. In our emerging era, though, there is a growing recognition that life is more than what can be studied under a microscope or observed using some other scientific instrument. This more is not an amazing or astonishing power beyond rational understanding and ultimately beyond us as human beings. Rather, it is a dimension of life that can be studied, understood, and tapped into as a potential force for spiritual and moral renewal. There will always be those who deny the reality of the transcendent dimensions of life. While our times are undeniably more complicated than Rowling's fictional world, we might call such people the Muggles of our world. Echoing Mr. Weasley, we might say, Bless them, they'll go to any lengths to ignore moral and spiritual truth, even if it's staring them in the face.

On the other hand, in the emerging postmodern era, societies tend to exhibit less optimism than in the recent past. Efforts to explore the situatedness of all human knowing and doing are leading to the erosion of modern myths of progress, pure scientific objectivity, and comprehensive knowledge. In this new era, the myths of modernity are often replaced with a much more sober recognition of the reality of evil and the possibility that our lives, rather than progressing forward, might lead us into meaninglessness and despair.

Fans flock to Rowling because she gives voice to our hopes that there is more to life than the drudgery of a demythologized, scientific, Muggle world. There are moral and spiritual dimensions to life that cannot be ignored: this is a world where magic truly does exist. As an expression of the paradoxical nature of postmodernity, Rowling's assertion of this hope appears more credible, even more hopeful, because she also acknowledges the existence of powers of deceit and possibilities of despair. Rowling captures the attention of readers because she acknowledges our awareness of the darker dimensions of life, while at the same time affirming our belief that all of life is permeated by the magical and wondrous.

Concluding Comments for Christian Religious Educators

Discussions of Harry Potter can help people name and reflect critically on both the challenges and hopes of our postmodern age from a faith perspective. On the one hand, reflecting on the uncertainties and complexities of Harry's life can spark conversation about the present-day challenges facing individuals and society as a whole. On the other hand, focusing on Harry as a symbol of hope and as a guide for understanding the wondrous can provide opportunities for people to voice their own hopes and their own sense of the call to Christian holiness. Religious educators can then draw from the resources of Christian traditions to address the challenges and hopes of our day from a Christian faith perspective. Moreover, this sort of connection between life and faith is vitally important and too often missing in Christian religious education today. Christian religious education without such a connection is likely to seem meaningless or overly abstract.

Every Christian religious educator should read the Harry Potter books. The series is a powerful instrument for helping today's catechists to unlock the mysteries of faith developing within the minds of postmodern youth and young adults. We cannot hope to form authentic Christian communities that help people recognize and respond to God's presence in their lives if we fail to embrace the ways in which they, with their distinctively postmodern perspective, impact our faith communities. In my family, some of the best discussions my wife and I have had with our children about life, morality, and faith have been sparked by our reflections on Harry Potter. The Harry Potter books are more than a jumping-off point for more serious discussions of Christian faith. Rather, I suggest that they are themselves an expression of the magical, wondrous, and sacred quality of the human spirit and imagination. Spending time with the Harry Potter books by ourselves and with our families can be spiritual reading that can lead us more deeply into the life of Christian discipleship.

Harold (Bud) DALY Horell is the associate director for academic affairs at the Institute of Religious Education and Pastoral Ministry (IREPM) at Boston College. Dr. Horell also teaches at IREPM as an adjunct professor.

1. 1. The following are the four books published thus far in the United States in the planned seven-part Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (New York: Scholastic Inc., 1997), referred to as HP I; Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (New York: Scholastic Inc., 1999), referred to as HP II; Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (New York: Scholastic Inc., 1999), referred to as HP III; and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (New York: Scholastic Inc., 2000) referred to as HP IV.

[This article originally appeared in The Living Light Spring 2001, Vol. 37, No. 3. Copyright © 2001, The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. All rights reserved. Neither this work nor any part of it may be reproduced, distributed, performed or displayed in any medium, including electronic or digital, without permission in writing from the copyright owner. Subscribe to The Living Light.]

John Paul II's Theology of the Body By Mary Shivanandan

For Pope John Paul II, the body constitutes an expression of the entire person and thus calls us to responsibility.

We have just left a century troubled by fierce controversies over the meaning of sexuality and the body. Above all there has been a search for the place of love and interpersonal communion in marriage—a search in which Pope John Paul II has played no small part. In his authoritative biography of John Paul II, George Weigel calls the pope's theology of the body a "theological time bomb." Weigel explains:

John Paul II's theology of the body may prove to be the decisive moment in exorcising the Manichaean demon and its deprecation of human sexuality from Catholic moral theology. . . . Few have dared push the Catholic sacramental intuition—the invisible manifest through the visible, the extraordinary that lies on the far side of the ordinary—quite as far as John Paul does in teaching that the self-giving love of sexual communion is an icon of the interior life of God.¹