Response to Karl Rahner’s “Interpretation of Vatican II”
Richard Greydanus
My Papers
Traditionally Reformed (Calvinist) students have been taught that the principle divergence between Protestant and Roman Catholic understandings of the Christian faith has been over the conception of spiritual authority. On the side of the former, the Scriptures stand alone; while on the side of the later, the Scriptures are joined by Holy Tradition and the Magestrium. The comparison serves to underline a basic point of Protestant polemic: that by augmenting the spiritual authority of the Scriptures with other sources, Roman Catholics have diluted the Scriptures’ essential meaning, that is, their spiritual authority. Such is anathema. Words drawn from the concluding paragraph of John’s Revelation, in such an understanding, apply to the whole biblical canon: “I warn everyone who hears the words of prophecy of this book: If anyone adds anything to them, God will add to him the plagues described in this book. And if anyone takes words away from this book of prophecy, God will take away from his share in the tree of life and in the holy city, which are described in this book.” (Rev. 22:18-9) The 20th century, however, has seen a marked softening of the Protestant tradition of protest against the Roman Catholic Church. So much so, in fact, that a leading North American Evangelical historian, Mark Noll, in a recent book asked, Is the Reformation Over? (2005) This softening of attitudes, I would argue has a great deal to do with the Protestant rediscovery of tradition and its importance, particularly in shaping the interpretation of the Scriptures. In the context of this brief reflection, I would pose this question: Has Karl Rahner forgotten the importance of tradition?
Summarized briefly, Rahner proposes to discuss “a fundamental theological interpretation of the Second Vatican Council,” grounded in the conviction that “[t]he meaning and nature of events…have genuine existential significance” which transcends that which is merely given to the human consciousness. “[I]ts precise goal is to describe the history of the Church’s essence” (716) and it yields the conclusion that “the Second Vatican Council is, in a rudimentary form still groping for identity, the Church’s first official self-actualization as a world Church.” (717) To give a broad demonstration his thesis, parallels are drawn between that of Vatican II and the transition between Jewish and Gentile Christianity. (Note here especially Acts 11:1-18 which records the Apostle Paul’s justification his missionary activities among the Gentiles and Acts 15:1-30 which addresses the issue of whether Jewish circumcision, and more generally, the entire Mosiac law, would be observed among communities of Gentile Christians.) Further, Rahner’s argues that “today we are experiencing a break such as occurred only once before, that is, in the transition from Jewish to Gentile Christianity.” (723) In his telling, the Church finds itself on the cusp of a new era; and the Church must be ready, as it was in the days of the Apostles, to make the hard decisions required to make the necessary transition. My reading of Rahner would see him as wanting to do away with an inconvenient history enshrined in tradition. But if tradition goes, what happens to the Church, which is, of necessity, a tradition-ed thing?
An illustrative, though rhetorical, question will be asked to open my critical engagement with Rahner: Can an essence of have history? That is, if something is deemed essential, is it not, strictly speaking, beyond history? Rahner has an answer: “It is, of course, already open to misunderstanding, inasmuch as the Church was always a world Church ‘in potency’”. (717) And, inasmuch as Rahner anticipated the question, it is necessary to admit that I believe Rahner is onto something important, namely that it is necessary for the contemporary Church to redefine the nature of the mission it received from its immediate forbearers. Nevertheless, I wonder whether Kantian, rather than Aristotelian/Thomistic, categories might better serve to understand the contemporary situation: Is it that the essence of the Church has finally actualized itself as a world Church? or is it that the Church has entered into a new era in history in which that which the Church is in itself must be reappropriated, i.e. enculturated, for us? If Aristotle can be used by Christians to convey deep spiritual meaning, why not Kant?
In my limited capacity as an outsider, and as a Protestant, I should make my appreciation for Vatican II’s articulation of a stance of openness towards the religious “Other,” be they Reformed, Lutheran, Evangelical, or even Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, or other. I wonder, however, at that sort of “openness” Rahner is calling for. Two conceptual tensions, for instance, which may be discerned in the article reveal something of Rahner’s “guiding” intent for penning this article. Frequent mention is made of 1) the aforementioned Church as world Church in potency versus Church as world Church in actuality, albeit vague and undefined; and 2) the Church’s essence versus the its necessary historical-situatedness, or inculturation. In regards to the later, Rahner appears to want to honour the historically situated character of his own articulation of the meaningful content of that essence. He says towards the end of the article, “no one can correctly predict the secular future to which the Church must do justice in the new interpretation of her faith and of her essence as world Church.” (724) But he nevertheless seems to be more interested in speculating about historical discontinuities with the old Western epoch—and with tradition—than with continuities. The Western Church’s missionary endeavors are subjected to wholesale criticism for being vehicles merely for the export of Western culture; their lack of success among the other world religions blamed for their failure to be sensitive to local conditions—as if culture was the only barrier to Christianization. (726) (Might not Buddhism, Hinduism, or Islam stand on their own two feet precisely because they possess the same strengths as religions that Christianity does? In my mind, at least, the jury is still out on the purported failure of the Western missionary enterprise.) A vague reference to “Christ, the Risen One” is made. (724) But we look in vain for an appeal to a common Christian history or tradition: the few remote references to the Holy See all tend in a negative direction— no doubt Rahner was soured by his experience had heavy-handed popes. Pluralism of religious discourse, confession, and theology (as if such did not already exist both inside and outside the Western Church) is promoted. Rahner goes so far as to say they will be “incommensurable” with one another. As it is used in the contemporary academy, the term is very clumsy. This is made worse by Rahner’s use of the awkwardly drawn distinction between incommunicability and incommensurability. (725) If, by balancing the later off with the former, by claiming the later does not necessarily imply the former, Rahner wants to address some epistemic difficultly, he seems unaware that the former opens the door again for a discussion of historic continuity, i.e. a communicable tradition. His entire argument, however, appears directed against the notion of tradition. Given his predominantly Roman Catholic readership, the question whether Rome should remain the seat of the Holy See is wisely not addressed directly. Even so, what is Rome but the traditional center of Roman Catholicism?
Perhaps the Rahner’s article should merely be read as a provocation. Yet, even if this is the case, the overall tendency of his argument away from reception and preservation of tradition renders in my mind problematic the sort of openness for which he appeals. It could, in fact, be characterized as an argument for everything but tradition—and, if only implicitly, everything that is carried along by tradition. At this point, the question of rather the sort of tradition I am appealing to here is simply a variant of conservatism could be raised. No doubt, it is possible appeals to tradition could slide into conservatism; but I would argue that ignoring one’s tradition just opens up to the problem of rootlessness and the loss of a sense of self-identity. If the Church is to become a world Church, in Rahner’s terms, should it not be done through a reappropriation, indeed a reinterpretation, of her tradition in the plural context of a the new global culture.
The principle criteria Rahner employs to justify his claim that Vatican II marks the Church’s “first official self-actualization as a world Church” is the participation of a healthy contingent of non-European bishops in the council’s proceedings. It seems that Rahner is principally interested in everything but Europe. Is the traditional home of Roman Catholicism deadwood in his argument? Does Europe not belong within the world Church? The initial glimmers of the emergence of Rahner’s world Church, I prefer to locate with the release of Leo XIII’s encyclical Rerum Novarum (1891). Leo has been credited for bringing the Roman Catholic Church into the modern age for turning the Roman Catholic Church’s attention to the troubled social environment of Europe caught between the forces of capitalism and socialism. The encyclical was significant for conceptually overcoming the much criticized modern paradigm of missions, understood as a movement from the West to the Rest, by transforming a long-neglected Europe into a missionfield. Thus the Church’s missionfield was redefined as wherever the Church was and wherever the Church had yet to go; in effect, the world as God’s world is the missionfield, missio Dei. (This is a play on Bernard Lonergan’s definition of “being,” as such, and his proof of God from intelligibility.) I would argue that it is here the Roman Catholic Church began its difficult struggle to acclimatize itself to a modern, and indeed an increasingly plural, cultural context.
A traditional Jewish delineation between Jew and Gentile designated whoever was not Jewish, past, present, and future, to be Gentile. The transition between Jewish and Gentile Christianity, which Rahner identifies as the transition between the first and second epoch of Christianity history, is in my mind the best place to locate an actualization of the Roman Catholic Church as a world Church, or an actualization of the Roman Catholic Church as the Church for the world—or any church for that matter. Both historic continuity and discontinuity may be found here. The racially defined boundaries of the people of God were burst. At the same time, a line of historic continuity may be drawn through Christ’s command to “Go into all the world and preach the good news to all creation” (Mark 18:15) to Yahweh’s promise to Abraham, “I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you…and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you.” (Genesis 12:2-3) Rahner’s claim that the Church first actualized itself as a world church at Vatican II, I would prefer to understand as the Church reclaiming its original mission.
Now, all the critique aside, much of what Rahner has to appeals to a base level Protestant common sense. His endorsement of a concilar model of church governance, a hope no doubt of rekindling of the failed 14th and 15th century Conciliar reform movement that appeared just prior to the Reformation, is a step in the direction towards a Protestant congregationist model. Without wanting to presume too much, it could also be argued here that Rahner’s (naïve) endorsement of a plurality of “incommensurable” religious discourses is an implicit endorsement of the Protestant congregationalist model. Would formally independent indigenous churches not stand a better chance of being successfully enculturated than ones affiliated with the Roman Curia? I do not propose to answer this question with the obvious Protestant affirmative. Better, I think, is the ambiguous yes and no: for the pros and cons must be weighed carefully. What does your tradition, your history, tell you?
The earlier distinction drawn between the Aristotelian/Thomistic categories essence and potency and the Kantian thing-in-itself and thing-for-us produces a false dilemma. That which is the potency of the Church Universal, the Body of Christ-for-us remains, as Rahner says, “a finally hidden instinct of the Spirit and of grace that remain mysterious—even though the element of reflection borne along with the action [of enculturation] should certainly not be disregarded or considered superfluous.” (723) The Church-in-itself, its essential identity as reestablished Kingdom of our Lord, awaits its final unveiling at Christ’s return. In the words of the Apostle Paul, “Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” (I Cor. 13:12) In the words of the Apostle John, “He who testifies to these things says, ‘Yes, I am coming soon.’ Amen. Come Lord Jesus. The grace of the Lord Jesus be with God’s people. Amen.” (Rev. 22: 20-1)
My Papers
Traditionally Reformed (Calvinist) students have been taught that the principle divergence between Protestant and Roman Catholic understandings of the Christian faith has been over the conception of spiritual authority. On the side of the former, the Scriptures stand alone; while on the side of the later, the Scriptures are joined by Holy Tradition and the Magestrium. The comparison serves to underline a basic point of Protestant polemic: that by augmenting the spiritual authority of the Scriptures with other sources, Roman Catholics have diluted the Scriptures’ essential meaning, that is, their spiritual authority. Such is anathema. Words drawn from the concluding paragraph of John’s Revelation, in such an understanding, apply to the whole biblical canon: “I warn everyone who hears the words of prophecy of this book: If anyone adds anything to them, God will add to him the plagues described in this book. And if anyone takes words away from this book of prophecy, God will take away from his share in the tree of life and in the holy city, which are described in this book.” (Rev. 22:18-9) The 20th century, however, has seen a marked softening of the Protestant tradition of protest against the Roman Catholic Church. So much so, in fact, that a leading North American Evangelical historian, Mark Noll, in a recent book asked, Is the Reformation Over? (2005) This softening of attitudes, I would argue has a great deal to do with the Protestant rediscovery of tradition and its importance, particularly in shaping the interpretation of the Scriptures. In the context of this brief reflection, I would pose this question: Has Karl Rahner forgotten the importance of tradition?
Summarized briefly, Rahner proposes to discuss “a fundamental theological interpretation of the Second Vatican Council,” grounded in the conviction that “[t]he meaning and nature of events…have genuine existential significance” which transcends that which is merely given to the human consciousness. “[I]ts precise goal is to describe the history of the Church’s essence” (716) and it yields the conclusion that “the Second Vatican Council is, in a rudimentary form still groping for identity, the Church’s first official self-actualization as a world Church.” (717) To give a broad demonstration his thesis, parallels are drawn between that of Vatican II and the transition between Jewish and Gentile Christianity. (Note here especially Acts 11:1-18 which records the Apostle Paul’s justification his missionary activities among the Gentiles and Acts 15:1-30 which addresses the issue of whether Jewish circumcision, and more generally, the entire Mosiac law, would be observed among communities of Gentile Christians.) Further, Rahner’s argues that “today we are experiencing a break such as occurred only once before, that is, in the transition from Jewish to Gentile Christianity.” (723) In his telling, the Church finds itself on the cusp of a new era; and the Church must be ready, as it was in the days of the Apostles, to make the hard decisions required to make the necessary transition. My reading of Rahner would see him as wanting to do away with an inconvenient history enshrined in tradition. But if tradition goes, what happens to the Church, which is, of necessity, a tradition-ed thing?
An illustrative, though rhetorical, question will be asked to open my critical engagement with Rahner: Can an essence of have history? That is, if something is deemed essential, is it not, strictly speaking, beyond history? Rahner has an answer: “It is, of course, already open to misunderstanding, inasmuch as the Church was always a world Church ‘in potency’”. (717) And, inasmuch as Rahner anticipated the question, it is necessary to admit that I believe Rahner is onto something important, namely that it is necessary for the contemporary Church to redefine the nature of the mission it received from its immediate forbearers. Nevertheless, I wonder whether Kantian, rather than Aristotelian/Thomistic, categories might better serve to understand the contemporary situation: Is it that the essence of the Church has finally actualized itself as a world Church? or is it that the Church has entered into a new era in history in which that which the Church is in itself must be reappropriated, i.e. enculturated, for us? If Aristotle can be used by Christians to convey deep spiritual meaning, why not Kant?
In my limited capacity as an outsider, and as a Protestant, I should make my appreciation for Vatican II’s articulation of a stance of openness towards the religious “Other,” be they Reformed, Lutheran, Evangelical, or even Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, or other. I wonder, however, at that sort of “openness” Rahner is calling for. Two conceptual tensions, for instance, which may be discerned in the article reveal something of Rahner’s “guiding” intent for penning this article. Frequent mention is made of 1) the aforementioned Church as world Church in potency versus Church as world Church in actuality, albeit vague and undefined; and 2) the Church’s essence versus the its necessary historical-situatedness, or inculturation. In regards to the later, Rahner appears to want to honour the historically situated character of his own articulation of the meaningful content of that essence. He says towards the end of the article, “no one can correctly predict the secular future to which the Church must do justice in the new interpretation of her faith and of her essence as world Church.” (724) But he nevertheless seems to be more interested in speculating about historical discontinuities with the old Western epoch—and with tradition—than with continuities. The Western Church’s missionary endeavors are subjected to wholesale criticism for being vehicles merely for the export of Western culture; their lack of success among the other world religions blamed for their failure to be sensitive to local conditions—as if culture was the only barrier to Christianization. (726) (Might not Buddhism, Hinduism, or Islam stand on their own two feet precisely because they possess the same strengths as religions that Christianity does? In my mind, at least, the jury is still out on the purported failure of the Western missionary enterprise.) A vague reference to “Christ, the Risen One” is made. (724) But we look in vain for an appeal to a common Christian history or tradition: the few remote references to the Holy See all tend in a negative direction— no doubt Rahner was soured by his experience had heavy-handed popes. Pluralism of religious discourse, confession, and theology (as if such did not already exist both inside and outside the Western Church) is promoted. Rahner goes so far as to say they will be “incommensurable” with one another. As it is used in the contemporary academy, the term is very clumsy. This is made worse by Rahner’s use of the awkwardly drawn distinction between incommunicability and incommensurability. (725) If, by balancing the later off with the former, by claiming the later does not necessarily imply the former, Rahner wants to address some epistemic difficultly, he seems unaware that the former opens the door again for a discussion of historic continuity, i.e. a communicable tradition. His entire argument, however, appears directed against the notion of tradition. Given his predominantly Roman Catholic readership, the question whether Rome should remain the seat of the Holy See is wisely not addressed directly. Even so, what is Rome but the traditional center of Roman Catholicism?
Perhaps the Rahner’s article should merely be read as a provocation. Yet, even if this is the case, the overall tendency of his argument away from reception and preservation of tradition renders in my mind problematic the sort of openness for which he appeals. It could, in fact, be characterized as an argument for everything but tradition—and, if only implicitly, everything that is carried along by tradition. At this point, the question of rather the sort of tradition I am appealing to here is simply a variant of conservatism could be raised. No doubt, it is possible appeals to tradition could slide into conservatism; but I would argue that ignoring one’s tradition just opens up to the problem of rootlessness and the loss of a sense of self-identity. If the Church is to become a world Church, in Rahner’s terms, should it not be done through a reappropriation, indeed a reinterpretation, of her tradition in the plural context of a the new global culture.
The principle criteria Rahner employs to justify his claim that Vatican II marks the Church’s “first official self-actualization as a world Church” is the participation of a healthy contingent of non-European bishops in the council’s proceedings. It seems that Rahner is principally interested in everything but Europe. Is the traditional home of Roman Catholicism deadwood in his argument? Does Europe not belong within the world Church? The initial glimmers of the emergence of Rahner’s world Church, I prefer to locate with the release of Leo XIII’s encyclical Rerum Novarum (1891). Leo has been credited for bringing the Roman Catholic Church into the modern age for turning the Roman Catholic Church’s attention to the troubled social environment of Europe caught between the forces of capitalism and socialism. The encyclical was significant for conceptually overcoming the much criticized modern paradigm of missions, understood as a movement from the West to the Rest, by transforming a long-neglected Europe into a missionfield. Thus the Church’s missionfield was redefined as wherever the Church was and wherever the Church had yet to go; in effect, the world as God’s world is the missionfield, missio Dei. (This is a play on Bernard Lonergan’s definition of “being,” as such, and his proof of God from intelligibility.) I would argue that it is here the Roman Catholic Church began its difficult struggle to acclimatize itself to a modern, and indeed an increasingly plural, cultural context.
A traditional Jewish delineation between Jew and Gentile designated whoever was not Jewish, past, present, and future, to be Gentile. The transition between Jewish and Gentile Christianity, which Rahner identifies as the transition between the first and second epoch of Christianity history, is in my mind the best place to locate an actualization of the Roman Catholic Church as a world Church, or an actualization of the Roman Catholic Church as the Church for the world—or any church for that matter. Both historic continuity and discontinuity may be found here. The racially defined boundaries of the people of God were burst. At the same time, a line of historic continuity may be drawn through Christ’s command to “Go into all the world and preach the good news to all creation” (Mark 18:15) to Yahweh’s promise to Abraham, “I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you…and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you.” (Genesis 12:2-3) Rahner’s claim that the Church first actualized itself as a world church at Vatican II, I would prefer to understand as the Church reclaiming its original mission.
Now, all the critique aside, much of what Rahner has to appeals to a base level Protestant common sense. His endorsement of a concilar model of church governance, a hope no doubt of rekindling of the failed 14th and 15th century Conciliar reform movement that appeared just prior to the Reformation, is a step in the direction towards a Protestant congregationist model. Without wanting to presume too much, it could also be argued here that Rahner’s (naïve) endorsement of a plurality of “incommensurable” religious discourses is an implicit endorsement of the Protestant congregationalist model. Would formally independent indigenous churches not stand a better chance of being successfully enculturated than ones affiliated with the Roman Curia? I do not propose to answer this question with the obvious Protestant affirmative. Better, I think, is the ambiguous yes and no: for the pros and cons must be weighed carefully. What does your tradition, your history, tell you?
The earlier distinction drawn between the Aristotelian/Thomistic categories essence and potency and the Kantian thing-in-itself and thing-for-us produces a false dilemma. That which is the potency of the Church Universal, the Body of Christ-for-us remains, as Rahner says, “a finally hidden instinct of the Spirit and of grace that remain mysterious—even though the element of reflection borne along with the action [of enculturation] should certainly not be disregarded or considered superfluous.” (723) The Church-in-itself, its essential identity as reestablished Kingdom of our Lord, awaits its final unveiling at Christ’s return. In the words of the Apostle Paul, “Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” (I Cor. 13:12) In the words of the Apostle John, “He who testifies to these things says, ‘Yes, I am coming soon.’ Amen. Come Lord Jesus. The grace of the Lord Jesus be with God’s people. Amen.” (Rev. 22: 20-1)
posted by Richard | 8:09 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home