Category: Ecumenical, interreligious, and other relationships

Becoming Friends — Carefully

Once upon a time, the elephant and the mouse were talking about being friends.
“Remember when our fathers were together with Noah and all the others. We were shipmates, living close one to the other in the ark. Why have we drifted so far apart over the centuries?”
“Well,” said the elephant, “to be perfectly frank, much of the time I’ve hardly given you any thought at all. You are rather small and easy to overlook.”
“Sometimes precious things come in small packages,” said the mouse. “I know you’re big, but bigness doesn’t mean better. Don’t get me wrong — I don’t mean to imply you’re any less. It’s just a matter of equal dignity for all us animals.”
Careful not to tread on the mouse, who, perhaps imprudently, was edging a little too close for comfort, the elephant retorted, “Sometimes you make me nervous, especially when you get near a sensitive place, like my nose. I know it must seem strange to you, but that’s the way I am!”
The mouse found it hard to believe that he could ever make the elephant nervous, but, the mouse thought, “Part of being friends is believing what your friend says.”
To reciprocate the mouse’s trust and good will, the elephant made a generous offer, “Why don’t you climb up and I’ll give you ride. The view from my back is vast and greater than from where you are on the ground.”
What a tempting offer it was, the mouse astride the elephant, but how incongruous too. “Maybe once or twice, just for a minute,” said the mouse gently, “but I have my proper place and perspective, and I must mind them.”

“Another part of being friends,” reflected the elephant, “is to spend more time together, perhaps even living in the same neighborhood.”
The mouse, who lived in a rather large old house, indicated that he was reasonably comfortable, even though traps were often set for him.
“You can hardly expect me to move into your burrows with you,” said the elephant.
“Nor vice-versa,” said the mouse, “for I fear I would be lost with you. Besides, I’d barely be noticed, while at home I’m known to the landlord and my friends.”
The elephant was becoming increasingly saddened by the turn the conversation was taking, and the mouse was too.
“Is there no way, then,” the elephant said, “for us to share more of our lives with each other.”
“Friendship is not a matter of physical proximity,” said the mouse. “In fact, for me that always remains rather dangerous. But there are other ways to be close. For example, the way we’re talking to one another right now.”
“Ah,” sighed the elephant, “how I wish that there weren’t such differences between us. But, don’t we have a lot in common too? Hopes, fears, sufferings, and sometimes even common enemies?”
“Indeed,” said the mouse in fond farewell, “and please God there will be other occasions for us to get together.”
How do an elephant and a mouse become close friends?
Carefully!


(Published as “On Friendship” in
Catholic Near East, 23:2, March 1997)

A Stitch in Time Saves Nine

“Please make a pot of coffee, but very, very strong,” I asked my assistant a few weeks ago. Patriarch Raphael I Bidawid, head of the Chaldean Catholic Church, was coming to visit.
The patriarch is from Baghdad. In Iraq and throughout the Middle East, a visitor is always welcomed and offered hospitality. Usually this is expressed by a small cup of “Arabic” or “Turkish” coffee — a coffee that is aromatic, strong, and thick.
A cup of coffee or tea, a biscuit or a sweet, even a cigarette to smoke, are indispensable accompaniments to any Middle Eastern visit. Another is the elaborately courteous and seemingly casual and random conversation, which often veils yet indirectly pursues a well planned agenda.
A visit is an important part of life in the Middle East — in fact, in most parts of the world. It is a gesture of respect, an expression of concern for the interests of the one visited, and, above all else, an important medium of communication.
Over the years, besides visiting our offices and programs in the Middle East, I make a lot of other visits — to Catholic and Orthodox patriarchs and bishops, to other Christian leaders, to muftis and rabbis, even to civil authorities.
First visits frequently are somewhat stilted and guarded. The unspoken questions are, “What is the reason? Why is he here?” Gradually, as visits are repeated, motives become clearer and apprehensions grow less.
Visit by visit trust begins to be stitched together and the fabric of a relationship begins to grow.

For example, at Christmas time, according to a well orchestrated tradition in Beirut, Damascus, and Jerusalem, each patriarch visits the other — for visits need to be reciprocated.
The visits are occasioned by the holy days, but they form part of the great knitting together of the churches, which is the work of the Holy Spirit in our day.
While in the United States, Patriarch Bidawid visited Mar Dinkha IV, Catholicos-Patriarch of the Assyrian Church of the East, to explore ways and means toward union with the Church of the East.
Melkite Greek Catholic Patriarch Maximos V Hakim and Greek Orthodox Patriarch Ignatius IV Hazim, through their holy synods, are committed to seeking the union of the Church of Antioch.
Through their many mutual visits, the patriarchs and other Christian leaders of Jerusalem have enough mutual confidence to meet and plan together regularly after centuries of separation.
Even the fragile fabric of peace between Israelis and Palestinians, and throughout the Middle East, depends on whether visits take place and, if so, the mutual respect they proclaim and the trust they build.
The angel visited Mary and Joseph. Mary visited Elizabeth. Jesus visited Levi and Zacchaeus. Nicodemus visited Jesus. The Holy Spirit often has visited you and me.
Praise be to the one God who knits us all together!


(Published in
Catholic Near East, 23:1, January 1997)

Two’s Company, Three’s a Crowd

On 6 January 1996, the Holy See’s Congregation for the Eastern Churches issued an Instruction for Applying the Liturgical Prescriptions of the Code of Canons of the Eastern Churches.
The attractively printed, 96 page document seems, at first blush, to be a somewhat technical publication of interest only to liturgical and canonical specialists.
Nothing could be farther from the truth. The prescriptions of this beautifully crafted document are revolutionary in their implications, They are another bold step forward by the Holy See in its quest for Church unity.
The first millennium of the Church’s life is a history of its spread throughout the ancient world and beyond, in Europe and in Asia. It also is a history of divisions, rooted in politics, rivalries, cultural differences, and misunderstandings.
During the second millennium, the Church spread throughout most of the world. The dark side of this period was the splintering of the Western Church and the attacks on Christianity in modern times. The bright side was the quest for the unity of the Church and new vitality in Church life everywhere.
During recent centuries many groups of Eastern Christians, separated from the Church of Rome, sought to establish full communion with the Holy See, even at the price of breaking away from their mother churches. Most of today’s Eastern Catholic Churches were born this way.
Over the years, these Eastern Catholic Churches began to adopt many of the rites, customs, traditions, and vesture of the Latin or Roman Church. In other words they, became “Latinized.”

From the Roman Catholic point of view, these churches seem thoroughly eastern. But from the Orthodox point of view, they are too absorbed and influenced by the West. In a way, they have become a third kind of church, a hybrid of East and West.
The major focus of this new Vatican document is to encourage the Eastern Catholic Churches to divest themselves of all western adaptations and to restore the ancient traditions of the Eastern Churches:

. . . the Eastern uniqueness . . . risks being compromised or even eliminated in the contact with the Latin Church, her institutions, her doctrinal elaboration, her liturgical practices, and her internal organization . . . In every effort of liturgical renewal . . . the practice of the Orthodox brethren should be taken into account, knowing it, respecting it and distancing from it as little as possible . . .

The Instruction lays the groundwork for a striking plan for the unity of the Church. The churches that broke with Orthodoxy for the sake of union with Rome must become instruments of union.
Firm in their communion with Rome, they must return to the fullness of their ancient traditions so that Eastern Churches not yet in full communion with Rome will see in them a genuine, uncompromised model of unity in diversity.
May the third be the millennium of unity!


(Published in
Catholic Near East, 22:4, July 1996)

Full Circle

In his book, The Phenomenon of Man, Father Teilhard de Chardin, S.J., observed that “Nothing is so delicate and fugitive by its very nature as a beginning . . . Beginnings have an irritating but essential fragility, and one that should be taken to heart by all who occupy themselves with history.”
As much as we would like to know more about the beginnings of the ancient Church of India, we have only the immemorial tradition that it was founded by St. Thomas the Apostle
Although early historical references are few, it seems clear that the descendants of the converts of St. Thomas were joined over the centuries by various groups of Christian immigrants from the lands of the old Persian Empire.
When the Portuguese arrived in India at the end of the 15th century, they found this ancient Church of India undivided, though not without its internal differences. By then it was thoroughly integrated into the fabric of South Indian society and Chaldean in its religious life and traditions.
Whether due to misunderstanding or indifference, the regulations and demands of the Portuguese authorities, both civil and religious, provoked a deep polarization and, ultimately, a division of this Indian Christian community.
The fragmentation of the Indian Church continued through the beginning of the 20th century until, providentially, a new movement seeking reunion arose.
Its founder was a priest of the Malankara Orthodox Syrian Church, Father P.T. Geevargheese. In 1919, he had started a religious community, the Bethany congregation, seeking to combine Oriental monastic traditions with Indian spirituality.

The new community flourished and was a great spiritual leaven within the Orthodox Christian community.
In 1925, Father Geevargheese was consecrated a bishop with the new name of Mar Ivanios. He still dreamed and worked for the unity of the Thomas Christians of India.
In 1926, he and four other bishops of the Malankara Orthodox Syrian Church began to explore the possibility of reconciliation with the Church of Rome.
On 20 September 1930, Mar Ivanios and his suffragan bishop, Mar Theophilos, entered into full communion with the Holy See. Two years later Pope Pius XI appointed him as Archbishop of Trivandrum and a new Eastern Catholic Church was born, the Syro-Malankara.
By the time of the death of Mar Ivanios in 1953, the Syro-Malankara Catholic Church had grown rapidly and consisted of two dioceses, Trivandrum and Tiruvalla
His successor, Mar Gregorios, provided dynamic and creative guidance to the Malankara Church for the next 40 years.
In 1978, a third Malankara diocese was created, Battery. Its founding bishop, Cyril Mar Baselios, just promoted to Archbishop of Trivandrum, assumes the mantle of leadership of this youngest, yet ancient, Eastern Catholic Church.
May God grant him much success in continuing the great work of reuniting all of Thomas’s children!


(Published in
Catholic Near East, 22:1, January 1996)

Detours on the Road to Unity

Once upon a time, there used to be just one holy catholic and apostolic Church. In the course of the centuries, because of misunderstandings of language and customs, because of personal rivalries and jealousies, because of political pressures and violence, and because of God knows how many other factors, the one Church became divided.
Truly, no Christian is happy about the divisions.
Over the years there have been a variety of attempts to resolve them, especially as regards the divisions between the churches of the East and the West.
During the last four centuries, some Christian communities decided to unite with Rome, even at the price of breaking communion with their mother churches.
In those days the choice seemed to have been either “us” or “them”. Ecclesiology, or understanding of church, in the West tended to portray the divisions of the Church like the separation of branches from the trunk of the tree or like the separation of stray sheep from the body of the flock.
The Eastern Christian communities that opted for full union with the Church of the West and placed themselves under her authority, are now the Eastern Catholic churches, or “uniate” churches, as they are sometimes called.
Since these churches were organized, ecclesiology has developed and the understanding of the nature of the Church has evolved in both West and East.
After Vatican Council II, the image of church as a family or as a communion of disciples became more prominent.

Also, unity came to be seen, not so much as a “yes” or “no” situation, but as a matter of degrees and as a growing process.
Now, we speak less of who is right and who is wrong and more of how we can we all live in peace and communion, one Christian family, together.
The challenge of East-West Christian unity has become three-way: among the Church of the West (the Roman Catholics), the churches of the East (the Orthodox), and the churches of the East in union with Rome.
How does each church live and grow without offending or impeding the other? There’s need for a delicate balance.
On 23 June 1993 the Joint International Commission for Theological Dialogue between the Catholic Church and the Orthodox Church, meeting in Balamand, Lebanon, issued a striking statement addressing this task: “Uniatism, Method of Union of the Past, and the Present Search for Full Communion.”
Honestly analyzing the past in the light of our shared faith, it calls for a rejection of “uniatism” as an outdated method for the attainment of unity, for the recognition of the legitimacy and rights of the existing Eastern Catholic churches, and for the exclusion of all proselytism and all desire for expansion by Catholics at the expense of the Orthodox Church.
Of course, we’ve known the right method to attain Christian unity all along: “Love one another as I have loved you.”


(Published in
Catholic Near East, 21:2, March 1995)

We Believe in One God . . .

What does the believing Christian think about the believing Muslim?
The Second Vatican Council, in its declaration, Nostra Aetate, taught:

The Church has also a high regard for the Muslims. They worship God, who is one, living and subsistent, merciful and almighty, the Creator of heaven and earth, who has also spoken to men. They strive to submit themselves without reserve to the hidden decrees of God, just as Abraham submitted himself to God’s plan, to whose faith Muslims eagerly link their own. Although not acknowledging him as God, they venerate Jesus as a prophet, his virgin Mother they also honor, and even at times devoutly invoke. Further, they await the day of judgment and the reward of God following the resurrection of the dead. For this reason they highly esteem an upright life and worship God, especially by way of prayer, alms-deeds and fasting.
Over the centuries many quarrels and dissensions have arisen between Christians and Muslims. The sacred Council now pleads with all to forget the past, and urges that a sincere effort be made to achieve mutual understanding.

Reading history, it is clear that the message of Islam often was accompanied by political conquest — as happened with the message of Christianity. When the Byzantines and other Christian nations resisted, there was open warfare, but not always. For example, the introduction and penetration of Islam into Christian Egypt took place gradually over a period of several centuries.

Through the years, Christians in Muslim lands adopted a defensive cast of mind and retreated within themselves. Until recently, the Christian and Muslim worlds had remained very separate with little mutual comprehension.
How should the believing Christian approach the believing Muslim?
The first challenge is to find a common ground and vocabulary. There are many aspects of Christian faith that Muslims share but many they do not understand and reject. It is difficult to say whether they reject them having fully understood them or whether they reject them because of their misunderstanding. The reverse also holds true.
Take prophets, for example. A prophet is one who speaks the word of God. Christians may not accept that Muhammad is “the Seal of the Prophets” as Muslims believe. But, if almost one billion people in the modern world are striving to find their way to God and live a life of prayer, fasting, and sacrifice because of the teachings of Muhammad, can not and should not Christians consider Muhammad as a prophet, as one whom God uses to bring his word to many of humankind?
Once John said to Jesus, “Master, we saw someone casting out demons in your name and we tried to prevent him because he does not follow in our company.” Jesus said to him, “Do not prevent him, for whoever is not against you is for you.”


(Published in
Catholic Near East, 20:5, September 1994)

Tokens of Love

It wasn’t a very elegant entrance into the holy city of Etchmiadzin. We had all piled into a jeep that morning in the Armenian mountain town of Ashotzk. The papal nuncio was driving, Cardinal Silvestrini was in the front seat, and Msgr. Gugerotti and I bounced along in the back.
We thought we had an 11 A.M. appointment with Catholicos Vasken I, Supreme Patriarch of All the Armenians, and we were running a little late.
Well, we did have an appointment, but not as we thought.
Cardinal Silvestrini, Prefect of the Congregation for Eastern Churches, had requested an audience with the Catholicos for our small Vatican delegation. The Cardinal’s mission—to present him with a special gift from Pope John Paul II, relics of the holy Apostles Bartholomew and Thaddeus.
As we pulled into the precincts of the Catholicosate and headed towards the office of the Catholicos, the great bells of the cathedral began to peal in celebration. We hastily got out of our jeep and arranged our robes for what clearly was a major liturgical reception.
A procession of Armenian Apostolic clerics met our quickly improvised entrance procession bearing the reliquaries of the two apostles. Reverently accepting the relics from our hands — Msgr. Gugerotti and I bore them — they led us into the cathedral.
The Catholicos awaited us at his throne with all the bishops of Armenia grouped around him. Bishops, priests. and deacons were solemnly vested. A magnificent choir chanted while the relics were placed on the altar amid candles and flowers.

We were shown to places of honor to either side of the Catholicos. His firm words belying his frail appearance, Vasken I welcomed us bearers of these holy relics with great emotion.
Just as the Church of Rome is founded on Saints Peter and Paul, he said, so the Church of Armenia traces its faith to Saints Bartholomew and Thaddeus. Just as the Apostles were brothers in Christ, so must be the churches founded by them.
Truly we were received as brothers in Christ, notwithstanding all the ancient misunderstandings, competitions, and separations between the two churches.
The movement for the reunion of the Churches is called ecumenical. It springs from the special impulse of the Spirit of Christ who prayed that all may be one.
Usually its practitioners are canonists and theologians who, often in elaborately orchestrated dialogues and meetings, carefully analyze points of difference and propose formulas for mutual agreement.
The warmth of the experience of Etchmiadzin made me think yet once again how much ecumenism really is more a matter of the heart than of the mind, a matter of friendship and love.
There is a time for dialogue, but there is a time for embracing too. Don’t just tell me you’re my friend — show me! Let your actions speak loud and clear. Come to me, talk to me, spend time with me — give me tokens of your love.


(Published in
Catholic Near East, 20:4, July 1994)

Brotherhood of Believers

Whenever I visit Damascus, I try to make a courtesy call on each of its religious leaders. Besides paying my respects to the Catholic and Orthodox patriarchs and the apostolic nuncio, I usually ask to be received by the Grand Mufti of Syria.
The mufti, Sheikh Ahmad Kaftaro, is the spiritual leader of Sunni Muslims in that republic. An elderly man, he has devoted much of his life to improving relations between Muslims and all believers.
On 28 January, he sent his grandson — a singular honor — to bring me and my three associates to a meeting with him.
Much to my surprise, when we reached the mufti’s Abu Nur headquarters, instead of escorting us up the stairs to his study, his grandson asked us to take off our shoes — a certain indication that we were about to enter the mosque.
It was noon on Friday, the day of Muslim observance. The mosque was carpeted with men, literally thousands, sitting on the floor, while other men and women looked down from tiers of galleries.
Although the service had already begun, the Mufti’s grandson led us down the center, making a way among the worshipers. We were given special places in the front, next to the central dais upon which the sheikh was seated.
Even simultaneous translation from Arabic into English had been arranged for us, and small radio receivers were at our chairs.
The mufti began to speak. He welcomed me as a representative of the Vatican and the American Catholic Church! Then, he set the theme of his sermon:
How necessary is solidarity and mutual understanding among the followers of Muhammad, Jesus, and Moses.

Confronted by the problems and evils of the modern world, all believers in the one God must stand together as brothers, he said. We are all children of Abraham.
During his long discourse, the sheikh spoke of Mary, the only woman mentioned in the Qur’an. He told his congregation how the Prophet Muhammad taught them to respect Christians.
It was truly extraordinary. Everyone in the mosque hung on his every word.
When he and another speaker concluded, he invited me to speak too! My words were translated into Arabic over loudspeakers in the mosque.
After expressing condolences — for Syria was mourning the recent tragic death of the president’s son — I told them what a treasure they had in their mufti.
If we could behold the throne of God, I said, surely we would see Moses, Jesus, Muhammad, and all the prophets gathered around it. And, if we come one day to paradise, surely we will be all together with them. So truly we must seek to be together in this world.
If the one God sends different messengers to us over the years, I added, how can the messages be contradictory? We are the ones responsible for division and misunderstanding, because in appearance, language. and ways we are strange one to another
Strangest and most wonderful of all—the mufti and a Catholic priest together speaking of God to the children of Islam.


(Published in
Catholic Near East, 20:2, March 1994)

Distinction Without a Difference

Last month the new director of our Jerusalem office, Fr. Denis Madden, spent a week in New York for his initial orientation. Naturally we overwhelmed him with papers and reports and his every day was crammed with meetings and conversations.
The most important aspect of his orientation hardly could be put into writing. It had to do with intangibles, the attitudes and style which characterize our work — our Catholic Near East Welfare Association “oral tradition.”
Discussing the ecumenical dimension of what we do, I conveyed to him one of our prime directives: “Always act as if the church is one, unless you are forced to encounter a difference.”
This means being as respectful, attentive, and solicitous to the needs of the Orthodox and Protestant communities and their spiritual leaders as we are to the various Catholic communities.
So often in ecumenical dialogues, as they are usually called, theologians fasten upon the points of doctrinal difference and seek to bridge the gaps and hostilities.
In our work we’re more fortunate. In our “dialogue of charity,” to use a beautiful expression of Pope John Paul II, we fasten upon the commonality of need and the universal appeal and power of love.
When it comes to helping people in need, their creed or their lack of it is not a determining factor.
Our mission is to be of service not just to Roman Catholics, but to all Catholics — not just to Catholics, but to all Christians — not just to Christians, but to all believers — not just to believers, but to all members of the one human family.

The tendency of modern societies is to accentuate differences — differences of nationality, ethnic group, race, religion, political affiliation — differences of social class, economic achievement, education, and breeding — even differences of sexual orientation, life-style, and values.
If all I do is accentuate what makes me different from others, after a while I paint myself into a lonely corner. After all, if we press it far enough, each one of us is ultimately unique and different from everyone else in the whole world. That’s the way God made us!
To know who you are — and to have confidence in yourself — you have to know and appreciate all that is distinctive about yourself.
To be in touch with anybody else, to be joined or to be in solidarity with others in any way, you have to learn to bridge the differences.
That’s what forgiveness, reconciliation, and peacemaking are all about, whether between individual persons or among groups or nations.
In fact, the special name for this power God gives us, which enables us both to appreciate all that distinguishes us and to reach out and join together with others, is love.
Maybe the prime directive for the successful orientation of every new member of the human family should be this: “Always act as if we all are one, unless you are forced to encounter a difference.”


(Published in
Catholic Near East, 20:1, January 1994)

Triage

I arrived at the emergency room of the hospital with my sick friend. “He needs to see a doctor right away,” I said. But, before we could see the doctor, he had to be screened by the triage nurse.
In case you’re not familiar with the term, the French word triage means “picking”, “sorting”, “choice”, or “selection”. It has come to be used in English to describe a difficult and critical pre-selection process.
In this case, since there were too many patients to be seen by the doctor that afternoon, the triage nurse had to set the priorities and decide which cases were the more urgent.
As one who shares primary responsibility for making funding decisions at Catholic Near East Welfare Association, I often feel like a triage nurse.
Regretfully, there are too many needs and too many worthy requests for our aid for us to be able to respond positively to them all. We’re forced to pick and choose among them.
In order to make informed and responsible decisions, we have to set clear priorities and criteria — which is easier said than done.
For example, should our first priority be helping Catholics? In this case, of the countries we serve, Ukraine should get the lion’s share of our attention, with its population of over 4,000,000 Catholics
Most of them are Catholic by tradition, but, after generations of Marxism, not what we in the West would consider “practicing”.
If practicing Catholics are the norm, then India with its dynamic Eastern Catholic Churches numbering 3,400,000 should take first place.

Ironically, by this standard, the Holy Land should get the least of our attention with only 90,000 Catholics.
Should our first priority be the total number of Christians? Then, among the countries we serve, our concern should be for Russia, followed by Ethiopia, Ukraine, India, and Egypt.
Should our prime criterion be poverty and suffering? From this point of view, Ethiopia heads the list. Armenia is in dire straits. Iraq, which normally is considered a wealthy country, now is in great need.
Are humanitarian or pastoral needs more important? Is food or medicine or clothing more important? Is emergency relief more important than long-term development? Which comes first, formation of persons or construction of buildings?
Our agency’s challenge is the same one that each of us faces in our personal lives. The media overwhelm us with knowledge of human needs all over the world. Whom are we to help? And, how much?
In the parable of the good Samaritan, Jesus gives us some of the answer:
Whom do I help? Whoever, in the providence of God, crosses my path, whomever in need I personally encounter in my life’s journey.
How much do I help? As much as the other needs and I can.
Alas, there may need for triage as regards our material resources, but may there never be a limit to our love!


(Published in
Catholic Near East, 19:5, September 1993)