Tag: Ecumenism

One Church, One Faith, One Lord

For the first ten years of my life, I was a city dweller and lived in an apartment house.
   A curious word, when you think about it—a kind of “house” [singular] made up of separate “apartments” [plural].
   But, after all, a house is a dwelling made up of separate rooms. So, an apartment house is a dwelling made up of separate apartments.
   The apartment house dwellers have some sense of solidarity since they live in the same building with the same identifying address—but, they have a sense of separateness too since the apartments vary in size, furnishings, and inhabitants!
   To make it a tad more complicated, sometimes apartment houses themselves are grouped together, to be identified as neighborhoods—different clusters of buildings in the one and the same city or town.
   As a kid, growing up, I certainly, clearly knew what apartment and which house I lived in, what neighborhood and (since it was in New York City) what borough we lived in, and of course what city, state, and country we lived it—and, as I learned more about geography, what continent and part of the world as well.
   Later on, I learned about the world as one of many planets in the same solar system, our solar system as one of many in the same galaxy, and the many galaxies as well…
   If your life started out in a very different situation—for example, on a large estate or ranch in a wide-open sector of the country—you might find the city lifestyle and mentality somewhat strange and hard to understand. And, you might even be more suspicious of strangers than a city dweller who encounters them all the time.
   What stirred up all these odd thoughts for me was the concluding refrain of each stanza of a hymn in the Divine Office: “One church, one faith, one lord”

   When we say, “one church” what do we mean? Is it the church we’re used to and were raised in? Is it the local parish or diocese? Is it the particular branch of Christianity we belong to?
   Is our one church more like an historic dwelling on a huge estate or more like an apartment house with a lot of different dwellers, but sharing the same address.
   Does one church mean everybody prays, believes, and behaves the same (or at least tries too)? Or, can one church include a wide variety of languages, ideas, customs, rules, and regulations.
   For many centuries, long ago, people believed in the existence of many gods. This, of course, invited a difference of opinion about right and wrong, how to worship, and a host of other things.
   But, if people believe in only one god, they must be actually believing in the one and the same god no matter what different names, titles, prayers, customs, and usages they might have and observe.
   And, it follows, that the one and the same God isn’t giving contradictory commandments, rules, and teachings to different groups of believers. It’s got to be the misunderstandings of the different groups of believers among themselves.
   Religiously, we are like dwellers in an apartment house! We live next door to one another, but in the same dwelling. Apartments can and may be different in size, furnishings, and number and kinds of people, but all share the same address.
   We’re fellow dwellers and citizens in the same town and place. We’re all neighbors. We live together in the same world with the one and same God!


11 December 2022

From Another Point of View

Remember the experience? A time, when all of a sudden, you looked at a thing from another point of view—and, all of a sudden, it looked very, very different.
Optical illusions are a simple example of that. As a kid, I remember drawing the outlines of a box. You look at it one way, and it’s like you’re looking down on it, even into it, from above—then, all of a sudden, it seems you’re looking up at it from below!
Einstein’s theory of relativity is a sophisticated example of a similar thing. It calls attention to the fact that the position and movement of the observer affects the observation.
Does the sun rise and set? Or, does the earth rotate and the sun stand still?
When did we begin generally to accept the idea that the earth isn’t flat, but round?
Isn’t it odd that the shortest flight from New York to Tokyo may go over the Arctic?

During the Second Vatican Council (1962-1966), there was a very controversial and life-changing shift in a theological point of view:
The Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Lumen Gentium, 21 November 1964, stated in section 8:

The one mediator, Christ, established and constantly sustains here on earth his holy church, the community of faith, hope and charity, as a visible structure through which he communicates truth and grace to everyone . . .
This is the unique church of Christ which in the Creed we profess to be one, holy, catholic and apostolic . . . This church, constituted and organized as a society in the present world, subsists in the Catholic Church . . . Nevertheless, many elements of sanctification and of truth are found outside its visible confines.

What a controversy the cautious words, “subsists in the Catholic Church”, caused! (I remember it well; I was working in the Council at that time.)
Till then, the common point of view was “Outside the church there is no salvation”, and “church” was taken to mean by Catholics as “the Catholic Church”.
The traditional point of view among Catholics before Vatican II was that, over the centuries, many dissidents broke away from the one church of Christ. As a result there now are many churches, but only one is the true church.
The Council began to look at all this from a different point of view. Now, for the first time, Catholics began to distinguish “the church of Christ” from “the Catholic Church.”
“The church of Christ” includes all Christians in their individual and organizational diversity—Western and Eastern Catholics, the various Orthodox churches, the Anglican church, the traditional Protestant churches, Evangelicals, Charismatics, every follower of Jesus!
From this different point of view, there is no black nor white, but various shades of grey. There’s no longer in or out, but varying degrees of unity. The various churches are not ancient enemies seeking unity, but one family whose scattered members are seeking reconciliation.
Negotiations between enemies tend to be rife with suspicion; family reunions are matter of forgiveness and love.
Even if it still seems odd, the shortest way from East to West may go over the North pole!


26 July 2020

Surviving Vatican II

I don’t belong to any survivors’ network. In fact, I don’t even know if there is one that I can join. But, I am a survivor — a survivor of the Second Vatican Council.
By now, most of the people who attended the Second Vatican Council have gone on to their eternal reward. The council met annually from 1962 through 1965. Any bishop who attended the council would have to be now about 80 or older; any priests or lay experts would have to be now around 70 or older.
I had a very minor role in the council, as a kind of administrative assistant during the second (1963) and third (1964) sessions. It was a great privilege to be able to attend the daily plenary meetings in St. Peter’s Basilica, listen to all the speeches and study all of the working documents.
Above all else, it was an almost tangible experience of the presence and action of the Holy Spirit.
The real survivors of the council are the great ideas, concepts and understandings that were born of the Spirit during those rich and fruitful years and that still perdure and revitalize the church today.
One of the most powerful of them has to do with understanding the very nature of the church itself.
The first draft of what was to become the dogmatic constitution on the church, prepared by experts of the Roman curia in preparation for the opening of the council in October 1962, was among the documents rejected by the council fathers.
A new draft was studied, debated and amended by the council fathers during the fall 1963 council session, and a final text was overwhelmingly approved by the council and promulgated by Pope Paul VI on 21 November 1964.
There was one modest but incredibly significant change made in the text as a result of the 1963 deliberations.

The working draft presented to the council fathers in 1963, referred to the church of Jesus Christ and identified it with the Catholic Church, headed by the Roman Pontiff and the bishops in communion with him.
The draft was amended to introduce an important new concept, “subsists.” It stated that the church of Christ subsists in the Catholic Church, governed by the successor of Peter and the bishops in communion with him.
This one little word unlocked a great door in Catholic theological understanding of the church. It implied a difference, albeit modest, between the church of Christ and the Catholic Church.
This seed notion, regarded as dangerous and almost heretical by many, has born fruit in the great ecumenical advances of the past decades. It has provided a foundation for the many declarations and actions of reconciliation that have blessed the entire church of Christ.
A new chapter of Christian history has opened. The tales of narrowly individual churches — Catholic, Orthodox, Protestant, Evangelical — denouncing the others and denying salvation to all but their own members have begun to fade into the past.
The process still continues. As the council also reminded us, the church of Christ is a pilgrim church, filled with imperfections. Yet it wends its way to the fulfillment of the divine plan, guided by the Spirit.
In spite of the misgivings, setbacks, misunderstandings, prejudices and apprehensions, the new understanding of the church is growing.
It’s a survivor.


(Published as “Survivors” in
one, 35:3, May 2009 )

Unorthodox Orthodoxy

On 30 November, the feast of St. Andrew, patron of the Church of Constantinople, I spent most of the day in a large, windowless room — the studio of the Eternal Word Television Network in Birmingham, Alabama.
I was honored to be invited to help the network’s viewers understand better the implications of Pope Benedict XVI’s historic apostolic journey to Turkey.
As supreme pastor of the Catholic Church, the pope came to visit his tiny Catholic flock, Roman, Chaldean, Armenian, and Syrian.
As Successor of St. Peter, he came in the service of unity to nurture bonds with the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople and other Orthodox churches of the East.
As first in the Church of Christ, he came to this predominantly Muslim country to witness to the solidarity and brotherhood of all believers in the one God.
Before his arrival in the Turkish capital city of Ankara, the mass media seemed to have a morbid fascination with the possibilities of disaster. With the cordial greetings of the Turkish authorities and the smooth progress of the pope’s journey, they seemed to lose all interest.
When the water level in the glass is midway, why is it so much more tempting to see it as half empty instead of half full?
Unfortunately, it wasn’t just the media that looked to the negative side of the visit. Many Orthodox and Catholic Christians seemed to focus more on sad events and hurts of the past than on the wonderful and positive reality of the trip itself.
Yes, in 1054 the heads of the sister churches of Rome and Constantinople excommunicated each other. Yes, the leaders of the Fourth Crusade pillaged the great Christian city of Constantinople instead of going to the Holy Land.

But, this day, Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew I, Archbishop of Constantinople and New Rome, warmly welcomed Pope Benedict XVI, Bishop pf Rome to his cathedral church and patriarchate.
They prayed together in the Orthodox Church of St. George. They embraced in the kiss of peace. They jointly blessed the mixed congregation of Orthodox and Catholic Christians. They solemnly signed a common declaration celebrating the progress of the movement toward the reestablishment of full unity and expressing hopes for it attainment.
This was no encounter of two heads of separate churches seeking to find common ground — this was the embrace of two brothers in Christ reaffirming that they and their respective flocks belong to one great family, regrettably separated by culture, language, and history over the years.
Even so, the glass is still not yet full — unity is still not yet complete. There are still painful hurts and memories to be overcome, complex theological issues to be explored and clarified, and diverse traditions and practices to be understood and respected.
In response to the promptings of the Holy Spirit, Benedict and Bartholomew, like Peter and John, are racing together to encounter the Risen Lord — but each leads and shepherds a flock.
If they speed too fast toward unity, they risk leaving behind too many of their grazing and wandering sheep. They can only go as far and fast as solidarity with their flocks allow.
Godspeed!


(Published in
one, 33:1, January 2007)

Dead Ends

Every journey involves choices. Every time we come to a fork in the road — and this occurs again and again — we choose one way over another.
Every choice involves a gain and a loss. We get to experience all that is good and wonderful about the way chosen; we lose the opportunity to taste and enjoy the way not taken.
What about dead ends?
In English, the expression used to describe a chosen path that ultimately leads nowhere is a “dead end.” In Spanish, it’s usually described as a “callejón sin salida.”
The difference in emphasis is interesting. The English expression stresses that there’s no way to move forward, that all our hopes for the journey are dashed. The Spanish phrase says it’s a street with no way out — there’s no exit.
Both ways of looking at the same disappointing situation are correct — and both could benefit from a little optimism.
When you get to a dead end, you’re frustrated because it’s unexpected — it impedes you from going the way you wanted, it devalues the choice you made when you took the fork in the first place.
But . . . if you’re willing to cut your losses, bite the bullet, and admit you made a mistake, you can always turn around, retrace the steps you took till you get back to that fork in the road — and then make a new and hopefully better choice.
In fact, if you really want to go somewhere, there’s no alternative — you have to back up, choose a new direction and once again go full-speed ahead.
A popular device used in psychological experiments is the maze, “a confusing, intricate network of winding pathways . . . a network with one or more blind alleys,” says my dictionary.

The pessimist sees only the frustration of plans while painfully negotiating the way; the optimist emerges from the labyrinth and says, “Amazing!”
Of course, I’m not talking merely about physical journeys from place to place but the journey as a metaphor for the many “journeys” we make during the course of our lives — and for the journey of life itself.
How painful it is, for example, when we invest an enormous amount of feeling, time, and energy in developing a relationship with someone and arrive at a dead end, at a dashing of hopes and plans for the future.
“If you don’t succeed, try, try again.” (That’s the eternal optimist talking.)
How painful it is, for example, when we pour so much of our lives into a quest for justice and peace, in the generous desire to make this world a better place, and we arrive at a dead end.
“You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.” (That’s the realist talking.)
How painful it is, for example, when we indefatigably commit ourselves to the cause of ecumenism, of the unity of the church, and find that all our strategies and tactics have led us to a dead end.
“God writes straight with crooked lines.” (That’s the Holy Spirit blocking our path, when we’re going the wrong way.)
The worst-case scenario is when you seem to have tried every way and taken every fork and you still are in the maze — when you can’t find any exit.
That’s when merely human realism kicks out and real hope — the gift of God — kicks in!


(Published in
one, 32:4. July 2006)

Way to Go

Caminante, no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar.

This evocative verse of Antonio Machado loses something in translation, but it more or less says:

Wayfarer, there is no way,
the way is made by wayfaring

It may have applied to Southern California before any Europeans arrived there, but it surely doesn’t now.
Recently, I was driving about in the Los Angeles-San Diego area visiting friends and relatives. What a spaghetti tangle of ways — winding country roads, local city streets, broad avenues, highways, interstate highways, and freeways.
Some people find New York City traffic intimidating, but as a native New Yorker I was in awe of freeways with six or more lanes of traffic speeding in the same direction.
I was fascinated by a new gadget in my rental car — a global position monitor and guidance system. Enter an address using a small keyboard and ask for guidance. A voice guides you to your destination — wherever it is — telling when and what turns to make.
There is also a constantly scrolling map on a small screen that shows you exactly where you are whether you are asking for guidance or not.
Naturally the system chooses the most direct way to get where you are going, using the best roads. That means it guides you onto the nearest freeway rather than using local streets, even if they are a tad more direct.

But, the system doesn’t allow for traffic congestion, repairs, or accidents. For example, it sent me onto the main interstate highway through downtown Los Angeles during rush hour. This may have been the most direct way to go as the crow flies, but it certainly wasn’t the fastest.
Sometimes the fastest, best way to get to your destination is a long way around or involves detours because of particular conditions on the preferred road.
There is some analogy here with one’s way of life — that is, with choosing the road that leads us through this life to its fullness. It is not the case that “Wayfarer, there is no way.” Quite the contrary, there are many ways, some of which are competitive, one with the other.
Are all ways through life equal? Hardly. Some ways take you to where you want to go and others don’t get you there at all.
Also, some direct roads are better than others. The journey through life has its country lanes as well as its freeways.
Like roads, sometimes the best way is temporarily blocked or slowed down. But, generally it is still the best way to go.
Every now and then an interstate highway more or less follows an “old” highway. But the new, fast road often bypasses many charming towns and villages that were on the old road.
You can’t have it all. Although the new road may be better, you do lose some good things of the old. That’s life, too.


(Published in
CNEWA World, 29:6, November 2003)

Already But Not Yet

Many years ago Cardinal Avery Dulles, S.J. wrote a landmark book about a complex topic, the theology of Church. Translated into many languages, Models of the Church stimulated profound thinking about the nature of the Church.
Cardinal Dulles suggested that better to appreciate the profound theological reality and mystery of the Church, we draw on analogies afforded by our experience — utilizing a variety of approaches or models to describe different aspects of the Church.
His book proposed five models for understanding the Church: the Church as institution, as mystical communion, as sacrament, as herald, and as servant. Each of these leads to a different emphasis in the quest for Church unity.
Concern for the institutional aspect of Church tends to see unity in very juridical terms. Historically, this was defined as the subordination of all the faithful to one and the same teaching authority, especially the Roman Pontiff.
The community model of Church situates unity more in the heart — an interior union of mutual charity leading to a communion of friends — while the sacramental model of Church places a high emphasis on holiness. The Church must be, in the word of Vatican II, “a sign and instrument, that is, of communion with God and of unity among all men.”
From the point of view of heralding the Gospel, it is solidarity in preaching the Word of God that lies at the heart of the unity of the Church. The Church as servant implies that it is the common witness of charity and selfless love that is the core of Church unity.

How much Church unity already exists and how much does not yet exist?
The Pope’s visit to Damascus, where he was warmly received by the Greek Orthodox, Syrian Orthodox, and Melkite Greek Catholics was a good case in point.
If unity means a uniformity of ecclesiastical discipline, liturgy, and customs, then unity will never exist.
If unity means mutual love, expressions of brotherhood, and sense of being one great family, then unity already exists.
If unity means sharing one faith and praying with one voice to the one Father of us all, then unity already exists.
If unity means being united in common service to the Christian community and to the wider world of belief and unbelief outside it, then unity already exists.
If unity means persevering together in the quest for reconciliation, justice, peace, and solidarity, then unity already exists.
If unity means accepting that the Pope has a unique and special role at the service of the whole Church, then unity almost exists.
But if unity means agreeing on the practical, structural forms for the exercise of the Pope’s special role of primacy, then unity does not yet exist.
We’re long since past getting to know one another, meeting each other’s family, courtship, and even engagement. Oh, to set the time and place of the wedding soon!


(Published in
CNEWA World, 27:5, September 2001)

On the Road to Damascus

On Friday, 4 May 2001, according to the Roman lectionary, the first reading at Mass was the passage from The Acts of the Apostles about St. Paul’s encounter with the risen Lord on the road to Damascus. It was a happy coincidence that we were taking the road to Damascus from Beirut that very morning. The Melkite Greek Catholic Patriarch of Antioch and All the East, of Alexandria, and of Jerusalem, Gregorios III, had invited CNEWA’s Secretary General, Msgr. Robert Stern; Associate Secretary General, Msgr. Denis Madden; and Regional Director for Lebanon, Syria, and Egypt, Issam Bishara to be his personal guests for the duration of Pope John Paul’s pilgrimage visit to Syria.

Syria

The independence of the Syrian Arab Republic dates from 17 April 1946. However, it proudly cherishes its ancient patrimony as a cradle of civilization and of two great monotheistic religions.
Syria was sometimes the seat of empire, sometimes a part of empire. About 4,500 years ago a great Semitic empire centered in northern Syria extended from the Red Sea to what is now modern Turkey and east to Mesopotamia. Two thousand five hundred years later, at Jesus’s birth, “when Quirinius was governor of Syria,” the entire Mediterranean world was under Rome.
Syria came under Muslim rule in 636. The ancient city of Damascus became the capital of the Umayyad Caliphate, the Muslim empire that extended from Spain to India, from 661 to 750.
For four hundred years before World War I, Syria and all the Near East was part of the Ottoman Empire. After the war, until its independence, Syria was governed by France with a mandate from the League of Nations.
Today Syria is a rapidly developing country of 16,110,000 people, most of whom are Muslim. About 10 percent of the population is Christian, including 309,000 members of various Catholic churches. Although the president must be Muslim, Syria is a secular state. The Christian churches freely maintain their institutions and services to their people and, in some ways, e.g., tax exemptions, are favored by the government.

Welcome ceremony

Thousands of young police officers lined both sides of the road to the Damascus International Airport on the afternoon of Sunday, 5 May. When the Alitalia flight carrying the Pope and his modest entourage landed, the President of Syria, Dr. Bashar Assad, the ministers of his government, and all the patriarchs and bishops of Syria were on hand to greet and welcome the Holy Father.
Syrian and papal flags were flying, an honor guard stood at attention, and the band was playing as the tall young President warmly greeted the stooped and frail visitor who slowly stepped onto Syrian soil, the first pope ever to visit Syria – although eight earlier popes were Syrian-born.
The speech of President Assad was laced with many warm welcomes, as is the Arab way, and references to Syria’s rich Christian and Muslim heritage. However, it had some dissonant words as well. He not only spoke about those who are afflicting the Palestinian people and occupying Arab lands – i.e. Israel, although he didn’t mention the name – but also accused them of opposing “the principles of divine faiths with the same mentality of betraying Jesus Christ.”
From the political perspective, for Israel – and to a large extent the West – Syria is perceived harshly and negatively. For the Syrian government, the opposite holds true – Israel is the enemy. Regrettably they make no distinction between Judaism, Zionism, and the policies of the government of Israel.
In his talk, the Pope eschewed the political, speaking primarily of the religious dimensions of his visit and of his respect for the faiths and people of Syria. The Pope, however, could not ignore the tensions and conflicts troubling the Middle East.
He reaffirmed that “it is time to return to the principles of international legality: the banning of the acquisition of territory by force, the right of peoples to self-determination, respect for the resolutions of the United Nations Organization and the Geneva conventions.”
The Pope also gently offered a counterpoint to the harsh words of the President, stating that “we all know that real peace can only be achieved if there is a new attitude of understanding and respect among the peoples of the region, between the followers of the three Abrahamic religions.”
He said it is important “that there be an evolution in the way the peoples of the region see one another, and that at every level of society the principles of peaceful coexistence be taught and promoted.”

Ecumenical meeting

After his courtesy visit to the President of the Syrian Arab Republic at the Presidential Palace, the popemobile took Pope John Paul II straight to the Greek Orthodox Cathedral of the Virgin Mary in the old center of Damascus.
There he was warmly welcomed by the Greek Orthodox Patriarch of Antioch and All the East, Ignatius IV. Two other patriarchs of Antioch stood at his side: Syrian Orthodox Patriarch Ignatius Zakka I and Melkite Greek Catholic Patriarch Gregorios III.
The packed cathedral included not only the Catholic and Orthodox bishops of Syria, but most of the other Catholic patriarchs, many of the Greek and Syrian Orthodox bishops of the two patriarchates from other countries around the world, and an enthusiastic congregation.
Actually Syria is one of the most ecumenical places in the world. The three patriarchs who live in Damascus are truly brothers in Christ. Greek, Syrian, Maronite, Armenian, and Latin Christians live peacefully side by side, often intermarrying and frequenting one another’s churches.
Beautiful symbols of unity were a joint profession of the Creed, warm and loving words from both the Greek Orthodox Patriarch and the Pope, a mutual embrace or kiss of peace, and the recitation of the Lord’s Prayer by all.
Sometimes we talk so much about the need for Christian unity we almost forget how much real unity already exists.

Holy Mass on Sunday

Damascus’ Abbassyin Stadium holds almost 30,000 people. I think most of them were long since at hand when the Pope arrived to offer a public Mass at 9:30 Sunday morning. It was a moment of prayer for all Christians. Catholic bishops and priests concelebrated; Orthodox patriarchs and bishops shared the sanctuary – a great roofed stage at one side of the central oval of the stadium.
Coincidentally, 6 May was not only Good Shepherd Sunday in the Latin calendar but also the World Day of Vocations in the Catholic Church and the Syrian national holiday commemorating the “Martyrs of Liberty.”
It was a long but happy morning for the thousands there. Songs and cheers punctuated the celebration of the liturgy and the homily of the Pope. An orchestra played, choirs sang, and the Latin-rite Mass incorporated elements and chants from the various Eastern churches. Mercifully, there were intermittent clouds to shield the warm sun. Damascus is a city with almost a desert climate – even a day in May can be very hot.
As one of the many concelebrants, I was privileged to help in the distribution of Communion. It seemed like everyone wished to share in the Eucharist. So many young adults were there – Christian faith in Syria is alive and well.

Meeting with patriarchs and bishops

The root meaning of the word “companion” is one who breaks bread with you. Clearly this was an apt word to describe the Catholic and Orthodox bishops who were hosted to lunch with the Holy Father at the Melkite Greek Catholic Patriarchate following the outdoor Mass.
Somehow I had a place at one of the tables too. Much to my surprise I was seated across from Bishop Afram Athnil, Bishop of Hassake, Syria, of the Assyrian Church of the East. Just a few years before he had completed his theological formation at Mundelein Seminary of the Archdiocese of Chicago with a scholarship from CNEWA.
Lunch is an inadequate word to describe this magnificent meal, given through the generosity of a local benefactor. The food was wonderful, but the warm words exchanged by patriarchs on behalf of their churches were rich food for the spirit.

Meeting with clergy and religious

Just a short walk from the Melkite Greek Catholic patriarchate through the narrow streets of old Damascus is the Syrian Orthodox Cathedral of St. George. Patriarch Ignatius Zakka I invited the Pope there to greet the clergy and religious of all the Christian churches – and the Syrian Orthodox laity as well.
The small cathedral was jammed. The overflow crowd followed the service by television in the courtyards. Boy scouts in uniform lined the street. The arrival of the popemobile was heralded by an enthusiastic burst of music from the band.
The Holy Father’s entrance into the cathedral was accompanied by an entrance chant in Syriac, or Aramaic, the language spoken by the Lord and still used by the churches of the Syrian tradition. (There are three villages left in Syria where the spoken language still lives.)
Happily, this day was also the feast of St. George. Although he’s associated with England by many in the West, St. George was actually a Middle Eastern martyr. His veneration began at Lydda in Palestine in the fourth century and gradually spread throughout both East and West.

Meeting with Muslim leaders

An astounding event culminated this challenging first full day of the Pope’s visit to Syria. Toward evening, he traveled through the narrow covered streets of the suq or old market, which was lined with thousands of Muslims. He was on his way to greet the Muslim leaders of Syria in the Umayyad Great Mosque, for 13 centuries one of the most important mosques in Islam.
Hundreds of robed and turbaned sheikhs and scholars awaited the arrival of the Pope in the vast porticoed courtyard outside the doors of the mosque. A small group of bishops was invited to attend along with the papal party from Rome.
The Pope first visited the memorial of St. John the Baptist, which is still venerated in the great mosque. Originally a Byzantine church built to enshrine the head of the Baptist, it was rebuilt and enlarged as a mosque in the seventh century.
After emerging from the mosque, a formal meeting was held in the great courtyard. The sheikh of the great mosque cordially welcomed the pilgrim Bishop of Rome, the first pope to visit a mosque in the entire span of Christian history.
The Minister of Islamic Religious Trusts spoke first, then the Grand Mufti of Syria, Sheikh Ahmed Kaftaro, and finally the Holy Father.
Beforehand, I had the opportunity to greet the Mufti. A friend of many years, he once invited me to speak in his mosque during regular Friday services. Sheikh Kaftaro has long been an advocate of Muslim-Christian dialogue and understanding. Once he had been received by the Pope in Rome; it was a happy reciprocation for the Pope himself to be welcomed by the Mufti in Damascus.

In the footsteps of St. Paul

Monday morning, 7 May, Msgr. Madden and I were waiting in the little church of St. Paul on the Wall. It’s actually built into one of the gates of the old city of Damascus, Bab Kissan, and commemorates how St. Paul escaped the city by being lowered over the wall in a basket from a window.
I could identify with that, for my guest room in the patriarchate was built over the wall too, my window just a few hundred feet from the shrine dedicated to St. Paul.
When Pope John Paul arrived, he was delighted by the welcome of a small group of children from the Melkite Greek Catholic orphanage located by the shrine, and went over to embrace them. I was delighted too – for years, this institution was part of CNEWA’s Needy Child Program.
A brief moment of prayer was all that the Pope’s busy schedule allowed. He then left for another stop, the Memorial of St. Paul, a church in a poor quarter of the city, before leaving for Quneitra.

Prayer for peace in Quneitra

Thirty-six miles south of Damascus are the ruins of Quneitra. Once a large – and in large part Christian – village in the Golan Heights, its houses were blown up by the Israeli army when they pulled back to the edge of a United Nations-monitored demilitarized zone between the Israeli-occupied Syrian territory of the Golan and Syria itself.
No one lives in Quneitra now. The Syrian government leaves the ruins untouched as a reminder of the past – and present – hostilities. For the occasion of the papal visit, thousands of people were there; many of them original inhabitants, long since displaced to poor neighborhoods in Damascus.
A cool breeze blew across the verdant countryside, flowers bloomed alongside shattered, tilted concrete slabs. The Pope, accompanied by Catholic and Orthodox patriarchs, entered the abandoned shell of the Greek Orthodox parish church to kneel in a prayer for peace.
A brief but significant ceremony followed. The Holy Father watered a small olive tree planted as a symbol of peace and memorial of his visit.
“Merciful Father,” he prayed, “may all believers find the courage to forgive one another, so that the wounds of the past may be healed, and not be a pretext for further suffering in the present. May this happen above all in the Holy Land, this land which you have blessed with so many signs of your Providence, and where you have revealed yourself as the God of Love.”
Amen!

Youth meeting

Late Monday afternoon several thousand young people jammed the Melkite Greek Catholic Cathedral of the Dormition of the Virgin Mary and all the courtyards and streets around the patriarchate. Banners were flying, flags were waved, and loudspeakers animated the huge crowd with music and song.
The sight and sound of the young people animated the Pope too. He lit up at the sight of this tumultuous welcome as his special little car brought him to the doors of the cathedral.
By now a familiar sight, the Catholic and Orthodox hierarchs and clergy together awaited him in the church amid the throngs of teenagers and young adults cheering his entrance: “John Paul Two, we love you” they shouted in English amid cheers and songs in Arabic
Several of the youths made brief addresses to the Pope and, of course, he warmly greeted them. Although he spoke in French, his words were repeated in Arabic and often interrupted by applause.
Melkite Greek Catholic Patriarch Gregorios III received a tremendous acclaim when, in the course of his address, he said he would change the date of the celebration of Easter in Syria to the same Sunday celebrated by the Orthodox.
The celebration of Easter on separate days by Catholics and Orthodox is very unpopular, especially where Christians are a minority. The papal visit occasioned this important gesture toward Christian unity.

Farewell ceremony

Tuesday morning, 8 May, the Pope and the accompanying officials of the Holy See were once again at the airport. John Paul had barely spent 72 hours in Syria, yet they were three unforgettable days for the country and especially for its Christian population.
President Bashar Assad, escorted by his government ministers, was there once again to bid a formal farewell to the Pope and his group. Again, the President spoke, this time to bid the Holy Father farewell, and the Pope to give his thanks and pledge of prayers for the President, his government, and the people of Syria.
As-salamu ‘alaikum (Peace with you),” were Pope John Paul’s first and final words in Syria – as well as those of the President.
I was there with a small group of patriarchs and bishops. We each had a chance to greet the President and bid farewell to the Pope as he boarded a special Syrian Air flight to Malta, his last stop on the way to Rome.
The Holy Father walked the remaining distance along the red carpet to the plane. An honor guard in full dress uniform flanked the Pope’s way, a stiff wind blowing his robes as he walked. He slowly mounted the stairs to the plane. The door was sealed and the steps removed. As the plane began to move away to the head of the runway, the President himself stood waving goodbye. He stood for all of Syria.


(Published in
CNEWA World, 27:4, July 2001)

Family Reunions Are Challenging

“My son is dead,” the father said, though the son was actually very much alive. The young man was raised in an Orthodox Jewish household. From the moment he decided to embrace Christianity, his father never looked on his face or spoke to him again.
What pain for both. What a price to be paid by each for fidelity to his religious convictions. The father saw his son as not only abandoning the traditions that were the father’s very lifeblood but also as rejecting the commandments and very truth of God. The son saw his father as so locked into his customs and practices that they overrode his understanding and love.
Throughout the centuries, Christians too have often read whole Christian communities out of the Church and acted as though they no longer existed. In effect, this is what the first ecumenical councils of the Church — its “family reunions” — did to confront controversies.
Arians were condemned at Nicaea in324; the followers of Macedonius, at Constantinople in 381; and Nestorians, at Ephesus in 431. This led to the estrangement of the Assyrian Church of the East from the rest of the Church.
The decrees of the Council of Chalcedon in 451 were rejected by many of the subject Christian peoples of the Byzantine Empire. As a result the Universal Church no longer counted the churches of Armenia, Egypt and Syria as part of the world-wide Christian communion.
In 553 and 680 at Constantinople and in 787 at Nicaea, councils still wrestled with problems of orthodoxy.

A sad result of the council held in Constantinople in 869 was the condemnation of the Patriarch of Constantinople, Photius. This aggravated the growing estrangement between the East and West. By 1054, the Pope and the Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople solemnly read each other out of full communion with the Church.
Councils were convoked by the Catholic Church in 1123, 1139, 1179, and 1215 (Rome); in 1245 and 1274 ( Lyons); in 1311-12 (Vienne); in 1414-18 (Constance); in 1431-42 (Basel-Ferrara-Florence); in 1512-17 (Rome): in 1545-63 (Trent): and in 1869-70 and 1962-65 (Vatican).
At the councils of Lyons and Basel-Ferrara-Florence there were short-lived attempts at dialogue and reconciliation with the Orthodox Church, but even so the schism between the East and West continued unabated.
A great change of heart came about with the Second Vatican Council in 1962. The Catholic Church invited all the Christian churches of the world to send observers to the council. It recognized them as still-living parts of the one Church of Christ, even though not in full communion with Rome.
For the first time in centuries, in spite of existing important differences, all Christians were considered as one great family, and bold steps were taken towards achieving a complete family reunion.


(Published as “Family Reunions”
in Catholic Near East, 25:6, November 1999)

Ecclesial Biodiversity

Although only a few kinds of potatoes are grown all over the world, there are hundreds of varieties still growing in the homeland of the potato — Peru.
My neighborhood market usually carries Red Delicious apples and a few other varieties, but many other tasty apple varieties are grown throughout the area.
Biologists lament the destruction of the Amazon rain forest. They warn us that thousands of unknown species of plants and herbs are being lost forever, some of which may have medicinal properties vital to our future.
What as a child I knew as the Bronx Zoo — the New York Zoological Society — now calls itself the Wildlife Conservation Society. It sees its mission to preserve endangered animal species that are disappearing as a result of over-hunting and destruction of their natural habitats.
We should have similar concerns for the Church. Right now the most widespread, dominant, and renowned variety of Church throughout the world is the Roman Catholic or Western Church. But, besides the Roman Catholic Church, there are other significant varieties and groupings of churches.
The daughter churches and ecclesial communities of the West — the Anglicans, the Protestants, and the Evangelicals — are also found all over the world.
In the East — the ancient homeland of Christianity — there are many apostolic and deeply rooted species of church: the Assyrian Church of the East, the Oriental Orthodox churches, and the great family of Byzantine Orthodox churches — as well as the Catholic Eastern churches in full communion with the Church of Rome.

Some of these relatively small Eastern churches preserve disciplines and canon laws, sacramental and liturgical practices, customs and popular religious traditions of great validity and importance, yet different from those of the great Roman Church.
An obvious example: From time immemorial most of the churches of the East ordain both married and celibate men as priests — although now bishops are always chosen from among the celibates.
In the Roman Catholic Church, the ministers of the sacrament of marriage are the couple themselves; the presence of the priest is required by church law, but he is considered only an official witness. In the East, the priest administers the sacrament of matrimony — the priestly blessing is indispensable for the couple to be wed.
Although the Orthodox churches agree with the Roman Catholic Church concerning the indissolubility of a true Christian marriage, most have a different discipline when it comes to remarriage.
There are many important usages in the East that may be lost forever, if not all the Eastern churches survive. Churches, too, can become an endangered species.
Concern for church unity must not become concern for church uniformity. Ecumenical sensitivity implies concern for preserving the existence and life of all the Eastern churches, whose rich diversity is the common patrimony of us all.


(Published in
Catholic Near East, 24:5, September 1998)