by Mike Riddell

You might have missed the Feast of the Transfiguration on 6 August 2000. Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger did not. On that day, he published a declaration designed to make sure that even if Jesus had been transfigured, the Roman Catholic Church would not be.

In short, the decree asserts the Primacy of the Bishop of Rome, on the usual shaky theological premises, and regrets that Episcopal churches are not yet in full communion with the institution he heads. This is a better deal than lesser churches get; those not considered to have preserved the apostolic line are deemed to be "not Churches in the proper sense". And other religions, while perhaps possessing insights, do not participate in salvation.

EVERYONE KNOWS THAT the Catholic Church has a long-established franchise on The Truth, and any attempts by lesser brands to trade on its hard-won market dominance will be vigorously resisted. There is no surprise in the fact that Ratzinger, the Vatican's Schwarzenegger of doctrine, should come out with a statement reasserting Catholic monopoly on divine revelation. But the seal of papal authority on such revisionist diatribe has insiders disturbed.

A further ominous sign was the Pope's beatification of his predecessors Pius IX and John XXIII on September 3. While the wildly popular John XXIII was always a sitter for official confirmation of his place in the hearts of the faithful, Pius IX was a doubtful starter in the race for sainthood. His main claim to fame was the convocation of Vatican I, and a reputation for reasserting the authority of tradition in the face of those calling for engagement with the wider world. He is also remembered for his anti-Semitism, and for instigating such interesting doctrines as papal infallibility and the Immaculate Conception (which has nothing to do with clean sheets).

Those in the know suggest that Pius IX was beatified alongside John XXIII as a message of counterbalance and resistance to the renewal which John instituted through Vatican II. There is a signal being sent that the opening doors of that council of renewal are beginning to swing the other way. As Bob Dylan said in a different context: "Don't stand in the doorway; don't block up the hall." Of course he was talking about the times changing, a concept which appears lost on the present powers that be in the Catholic Church.

WHAT IS GOING ON in the cramped corridors of the Vatican? John Paul II has always been conservative, but it now seems he is losing the plot altogether. Is there any truth to the rumour that the Pope has been dead for several years, only to be reanimated as an android controlled by Ratzinger? Is there a recurrence of what is now politely termed the "Reagan factor"? While these suggestions may be appealing, they do not do justice to the immense internal conflict which has been rumbling through Catholicism for the last couple of hundred years.

As a Catholic myself, and a recovering theologian, I find myself not only perplexed but increasingly embarrassed by the bizarre and authoritarian posturing emanating from the Vatican. We in the West had thought we had put this chapter of our Church behind us. But an embattled Curia seems to grow more strident and dogmatic as it realises that control is slowly but steadily slipping away from it. The attitude reminds me of English tourists who think that if they just speak more loudly, foreigners will understand them.

The problem which is generating the heat, is what to do in the face of a Western culture which has dumped Christianity and is busy getting on with life. The initial challenge to the Church's authority came with modernity; but it has been accentuated wildly in the climate of post-modernity. The Vatican's response to modernism was to batten down the hatches and keep sailing the same course, with the likes of Pius IX at the helm.

It wasn't until John XXIII and Vatican II that theologians realised that the vessel in which they sailed was headed directly toward the rocks. Belatedly, they allowed some fresh air into the holds and dared to suggest a change of course might be in order. Many of the passengers breathed a huge sigh of relief. But now, with the wild storm of postmodernity churning the seas anew, it seems that those on the bridge are attracted back to old solutions.

Ratzinger's consistent response to the challenges of the emerging culture is to look over his shoulder and remark how far the Catholic Church has come, and what a fine ship she is. Somebody needs to buy the good Cardinal a ticket to The Titanic, so that he understands that sincere confidence is not necessarily sufficient to keep even a very large vessel afloat. Particularly if it is already holed below the waterline.

THERE ARE AT LEAST two major difficulties for the Vatican, neither of which is being addressed with any understanding. The first is one of theological method. Catholic thinkers have traditionally worked on the assumption of the "deposit of faith". By this they claim that The Truth was given as a legacy 2,000 years ago, and that the continual task of the Church is to make withdrawals upon it in order to meet ongoing situations.

In theory this means that all teaching must be grounded in either scripture or the decrees of previous ecclesiastical authorities. Precedent rules. Documents such as Dominus Iesus are chock full of references to previous decrees (102 footnotes!), including a highly selective reading of Vatican II. In practice, canon lawyers have become very skilled and innovative, interpreting the tradition creatively and pragmatically, as doctrines such as papal infallibility demonstrate.

But the orientation is always toward the past, with a corresponding suspicion of the present. The key to understanding Dominus Iesus is contained in the final clause of it, where the authors explain their approach: "Faced with certain problematic and even erroneous propositions, theological reflection is called to reconfirm the Church's faith..." This is one understanding of faith; an attitude which calls to mind the servant who sought to preserve his master's wealth by burying it in the ground.

But if faithfulness to God was as simple as "reconfirming" that which had been handed down in the past, then the Pharisees would be right and Jesus wrong. We can no more give allegiance to a dead tradition than to a Jesus who remains in the tomb. The affirmation of Christian faith is not just that God acted in the past, but that God continues to act in history. Faithfulness demands more than a routine recounting of received orthodoxy; it requires the encounter of a living tradition with a continually changing culture.

To dismiss both the challenges of modernity and postmodernity as "certain problematic and even erroneous propositions" demonstrates a cavalier and misguided attitude toward history. Theology, as Catholic theologian David Tracy has argued, is not simply a matter of providing the Church's answers to the world's questions. Those questions may be the very arrows which God is using to gain the Church's attention.

The tone of Cardinal Ratzinger in Dominus Iesus brings to mind the attitude of the alleged patriarch of the Catholic Church, the apostle Peter, before he had a conversion experience described in chapter 10 of the book of Acts. Peter too was of the entirely orthodox opinion that there was no salvation outside the Church; only his Church was that of Judaism. It took a mystifying and subversive vision, followed by raw experience, to help Peter understand that God's intentions were wider than anticipated, and that the Gentiles had a place in the scheme of things.

At least Peter and the early Church took history and culture seriously enough to know that they needed to allow its creative encounter with their tradition. Perhaps it is time for Rome to acknowledge that not only did the Reformation happen, but that there was significant error on both sides. The arrogance of current claims that the only way forward is for errant Protestants and Orthodox to return to mother is as spectacular as it is repellent.

THE SECOND significant problem which Mr Ratzinger and his curial cronies face is that for Catholics in many parts of the world, no one gives a toss anymore what Rome says. The rot set in following the publication of Paul VI's Humanae Vitae. While the affirmation of life contained in this document is admirable and still prophetic in many respects, the banning of contraception forced a crisis which has changed the face of Catholicism forever.

Catholics of good conscience were forced to make a decision. They could comply with the encyclical as an act of obedience. They could object to its teaching and leave the Church altogether. Or they could simultaneously defy the Church by using contraception and claim their right to remain Catholic. While many took the second option, the majority chose the third. They adopted contraception as a matter of conscience, and often with the compassionate support of their priests, carried on taking communion.

This was probably the quietest and second most significant revolution that Catholicism has ever encountered. By their determined resistance, the lay faithful effectively subverted the Magisterium, or teaching authority, of the Church. In a typically modernist response, people elected to test the rulings of the Pope and his advisors against the wisdom of their individual conscience. Once that breach was made, there was no way back again for Catholicism.

There was a time when authority was self-authenticating, and supported by social sanctions such as execution or torture. Those days are gone forever. There is no way back to the supposed golden days of Christendom, which is a relief to minorities everywhere. Nor is the claim to absolutes, whether Christian, civil or economic, a convincing argument. The Catholic Church must take its place alongside every other human community, without the comforting assurance of a privileged voice and position. The Spanish Inquisition is over.

IF THERE IS TRUTH to be found in Jesus Christ; if there is salvation to be found through Christianity (and a surprising number of us still hold to that, though we're not so sure what it means); then it will be communicated through the way of Christ. We will make it known through love, compassion, self-giving, acceptance and mercy. The community of Christ can only be that when Christ is present in it, not through citing a line of genealogy. Issuing decrees declaring Catholic superiority is a poor substitute for grace.

Welcome to the 21st century, Mr Ratzinger. Welcome to postmodern culture. Welcome to the land that God has brought us to. As Moses and the people of Israel learned so long ago, there is no way back. We will make our way here as the people of God, or not. Of course it is important that we keep alive the stories, rituals and traditions which remind us who we are. Just as important as that we engage with the God who comes to us in our history and culture. Somewhere in the meeting the Risen Christ occasionally turns up for a beer.

Ironically, there is much treasure in the hold of the great ship Catholicism which is of real value in postmodern times. Elements of Catholic spirituality, ritual, sacramental theology, mystery and social teaching have something to offer the human pilgrimage into an unknown future. But only if they are made accessible through a loving contribution to what is a common journey. Your children may appear to you to be errant, Mr Ratzinger, but they are all children of the one true (non-denominational) God. And no piece of paper can take that away from them.

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