Being “catholic”
My sister-in-law, Suzanne, visited this past weekend and attended worship with Stephanie on Sunday. Suzanne is not religious in the formal sense, but she is a deeply spiritual person. I admire her openness to the myriad ways the spirit moves through the world and her fellow humans.
She also brings the curiosity of one unaccustomed to church traditions and rituals which are routine for many of us. As we chatted during dinner on Sunday evening, she remarked on how much she enjoyed being at St. Paul’s and then wondered about our use of the word “catholic” in the Nicene Creed. “You’re Episcopalians,” she said, “so why do you say you believe in the catholic church?”
As many of you know, the Nicene Creed contains three sections focused on each person of the Trinity: God the Creator, God the Redeemer, God the Holy Spirit. The final section contains the sentence about which Suzanne was asking: “We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic church.” It’s logical to assume, as many do, that this refers to the Roman Catholic Church. However, catholic in this context means “universal.” In the Creed we’re saying we believe all Christians, whatever their particular denomination, participate equally in one universal church. We are all members of the Body of Christ.
On Wednesday this week I presided at our weekday Eucharist in the chapel. In light of my conversation with Suzanne, I found it somewhat ironic that we commemorated the lives of three Roman Catholic martyrs: Margaret Ward, Margaret Clitherow and Anne Line. They were executed during the reign of Elizabeth I for protecting and hiding Catholic priests. Celebrating the Catholic Mass was illegal in 16th century England, so protecting a Catholic priest was punishable by death.
How is it possible that people who regularly recited that they believed in “one holy catholic and apostolic church” could put to death three women (and so many others) because they were adherents of another branch of Christianity? The answer is complicated, wrapped up in concerns for dynastic survival, extreme religious conflict during the Reformation, control of church finances and more issues than I have space for today. For now, let’s name this as a tragic example of the destructive intolerance that has been prevalent throughout human history and continues to be widespread in our own time.
In a column published in The New York Times in late July, David French wrote, “The measure of a community isn’t how it treats insiders, but rather how it treats outsiders.” Though writing specifically about small towns, his point applies to any community; perhaps especially religious communities with well-defined standards of belief and behavior that almost inevitably divide insiders from outsiders.
As French writes, polarization continues whenever a community “withholds its sense of community and acceptance. … It’s easy to recognize that insular reality in communities far away. … What’s important is to recognize that reality in our own communities as well.”
Many people describe St. Paul’s as inclusive and accepting, and this is clearly true. Yet, even in the most inclusive churches there are people who feel forgotten, unseen, or that they don’t fit in with the majority perspective. In a polarized age in which our society suffers from an epidemic of loneliness, it is all the more important that we commit ourselves to being as “catholic” as possible. An open spirit, even within the context of our formalized faith, will make us a more loving and accepting church.
