We rightly speak of the Church as indefectible, for Christ said to Peter, And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock, I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven (Matthew 16:18-19).
Be careful, though: The indefectibility of the Church does not pertain to land, building, power, or glamor.
Consider, by contrast, the Church at her most victorious moment: Good Friday on an ugly hillside called Golgotha. Only one clergyman, St. John the Apostle, and four women were there with Christ. The Church was very small at that moment. There were no marble altars, no stone churches or basilicas, no papal estates or gold-embroidered vestments. It was just Jesus, the head of the body, and a few of his members. The rest of the clergy and disciples, even Peter, were hiding in fear, disavowing knowledge of him and standing a safe distance away. Yet this small gathering of the Church saw the greatest victory of all: By dying, Christ destroyed death and broke Satan’s power.
Yes, sometimes the Church gets small and seems quite powerless. Sometimes the Gospel is preached from a jail cell or at an execution site. The blood of martyrs is seed for the Church. So, we ought not to imagine the indefectibility of the Church as something rooted in external glories such as power, land, buildings, titles, golden chalices or elaborate vestments. The Liturgy of the Hours has been warning us of the possibility of disaster if we do not repent. If you think St. Peter’s Basilica could never be taken or the pope exiled from Rome (or even killed), think again. Of the first 33 popes, 30 died as martyrs. Two others died in exile. Only one died in his own bed. The Church had no basilicas or land until A.D. 313. Popes were exiled numerous times during the Middle Ages. They also took refuge in Avignon for far too long a time. If you think St. Peter’s will always be there, consider that the Hagia Sophia in Constantinople, a basilica arguably as glorious as St. Peter’s, became a mosque and is now a secular museum.
Yes, God’s warnings are as real today as ever. He is more interested in our souls than our buildings. Our museums and works of art are trinkets to Him compared to the holiness of our lives, which he seeks. We are too easily mesmerized by the worldly splendor of such things and think it can substitute for the holiness and truth to which it points. During this painful crisis of clergy sexual abuse, vague leadership, and lack of accountability, the call goes out with an urgency that rivals the greatest cries of biblical times: the Church must repent. This cry is addressed to all, from the laity and the lowliest of clergy to the Pope himself. Serious sins must be acknowledged and repented of. The Church must accept a deep purification that, though sure to be painful, is necessary.
For too long we have tolerated sin and toyed with compromise and heresy. Too many Catholics, even high-ranking bishops, have sought to excuse sin and have even tried to alter the very words of Christ. Some have stayed silent or turned a blind eye to sin and dissent. Still others have “majored in the minors,” focusing on matters of lesser importance.
Reform in the Church does not usually begin at the top. That is why it is so important for the hierarchy to listen, as never before, to the cries of the lay faithful, who plead with the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB) and the Vatican to take reform seriously, reassert the truth of the Gospel with clarity, and rebuke dissent. While no one in the Church lives the gospel perfectly, the outright denial of central truths of our faith without any reproof from the Church hierarchy has been a source of great scandal and confusion. Silence from shepherds, who should be chasing the wolves away, is malpractice of the worst kind. There is simply no acceptable excuse for the deafening silence that has come from too many in the hierarchy in the face of dissent and even outright heresy. It is being taught routinely, openly, and ever more boldly by renegade theologians, wandering clerics, and even certain conferences of bishops. The faithful are bewildered, saddened, and justifiably angry. (Read more.)
The Lion in Winter (1968)
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