The Beginnings of Reform

"'I acknowledge my transgression', says David.  If I admit my fault, then you will pardon it.  Let us never assume that if we live good lives we will be without sin; our lives should be praised only when we continue to beg for pardon.  But men are hopeless creatures, and the less they concentrate on their own sins, the more interested they become in the sins of others.  They seek to criticize, not to correct.  Unable to excuse themselves, they are ready to accuse others. This was not the way that David showed us how to pray and make amends to God, when he said:  'I acknowledge my transgression, and my sin is ever before me.'  He did not concentrate on others' sins; he turned his thoughts upon himself.  He did not merely stroke the surface, but he plunged inside and went deep down within himself.  He did not spare himself, and therefore was not impudent in asking to be spared."  (St. Augustine, Serm. 19, 2-3:  CCL 41, 252)

When Pope John XXIII announced his intention to convene the Second Vatican Council, he sought a thorough reform of the Church in its very core.  The passage from Augustine above describes well the difference between the Church of the 19th Century and the vision of John XXIII.  The ecclesiology of the 19th Century saw the Church as a perfect society, the spotless bride of Christ, holy and indefectable.  The posture of the Church at that time was to criticize all the evils of its time, condemning all propositions that did not emanate from scholasticism.  While such actions are necessary at times, it cannot become the sole means of proclaiming the Good News of Jesus the Lord. 

What is more, the Church prior to John XXIII never acknowledged its own faults that contributed to the crises of particular ages.  The inflexibility of liturgical law inhibited the growth of the Church in Asia and Africa.  The scandal of the inquisition and the wars of religion led to secularism and the loss of faith in so many souls.  The excessive wealth and pomp of the Church led to a church for the powerful and rich, not a church of the poor.  Some would argue that such wealth was befitting of the worship of God, forgetting that God himself was content to dwell in the poor tent in the desert more than the opulence of the Temple in Jerusalem, that Jesus was content to be born in the poor stable of Bethlehem rather than in the palace of the emperor. 

The just war theory and the idea of the diseased limb was the justification used to inflict war and capital punishment on the populace.  And yet reform voices in the late Medieval period saw the inherent contradition in the Church's use of violence.  As Erasmus noted:

says he; O hardened wretch! can you call him Father, when you are just going to cut your brother's throat? 'Hallowed be thy name:' how can the name of God be more impiously unhallowed, than by mutual bloody murder among you, his sons? 'Thy kingdom come:' do you pray for the coming of his kingdom, while you are endeavoring to establish an earthly despotism, by spilling the blood of God's sons and subjects? 'Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven:'his will in heaven, is for peace, but you are now meditating war. Dare you to say to your Father in heaven 'Give us this day our daily bread;' when you are going, in the next minute perhaps, to burn up your brother's corn-fields; and had rather lose the benefit of them yourself, than suffer him to enjoy them unmolested? With what face can you say, 'Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us,' when, so far from forgiving your own brother, you are going, with all the haste you can, to murder him in cold blood, for an alleged trespass that, after all, is but imaginary. Do you presume to deprecate the danger of temptation, who, not without great danger to yourself, are doing all you can to force your brother into danger? Do you deserve to be delivered from evil, that is, from the evil being, to whose impulse you submit yourself, and by whose spirit you are now guided, in contriving the greatest possible evil to your brother?"

"That the clergy cover over this most irreligious conduct [war] with the cloak of religion renders the evil less capable of remedy. The colors in the regiments, (consecrated by ministers of peace!) bear the figure of the cross painted upon them. The unfeeling mercenary soldier, hired for a few pieces of paltry coin, to do the work of a man-butcher, carries before him the standard of the cross; and that very figure of the cross becomes the symbol of war, which alone ought to teach every one that looks at it, that war ought to be utterly abolished. What hast thou to do with the cross of Christ on thy banners, thou blood-stained soldier? With such a disposition as thine; with deeds like thine, of robbery and murder, thy proper standard would be a dragon, a tiger, or a wolf!

I see you, while the standard of salvation is in one hand, rushing on with a sword in the other, to the murder of your brother; and, under the banner of the cross, destroying the life of one who owes his salvation to the cross. Even from the Holy Sacrament itself, (for it is sometimes, at the same hour, administered in opposite camps) in which is signified the complete union of all Christians, the warriors, who have just received it, run instantly to arms, and endeavor to plunge the dreadful steel into each other's vitals. Of a scene thus infernal, and fit only for the eyes of accursed spirits, who delight in mischief and misery, the pious warriors would make Christ the spectator.

The most absurd circumstance of all those respecting the use of the cross as a standard to support the war and warrior, is, that you see it glittering and waving high in air in both the contending armies at once. Divine service is also performed to the same Christ in both armies at the same time. What a shocking sight? Lo! crosses dashing against crosses, and Christ on this side firing bullets at Christ on the other; cross against cross, and Christ against Christ. The banner of the cross, significant of the Christian profession, is used on each side, to strike terror into the opposite enemy. How dare they, on this occasion, to attack what, on all others, they adore? Let us now imagine we hear a soldier, among these fighting Christians, [or one of his civilian supporters] saying the Lord's prayer. 'Our Father,' 

John XXIII sought to heal the Church from these faults, to remind us that the Church is ever on the way, always in need of reform as we seek to be more faithful to the teaching and example of the Lord Jesus.  The teaching of the pontiff on war in his encyclical "Pacem in Terris" and the teaching of the Council on war in Gaudium et Spes has led the Church to a greater understanding of the non-violence of Jesus the Lord, the Prince of Peace.  As we continue to reflect on the call of the Council and its message to us, we seek to be more Christ-like in our own personal lives and in the communal life of the Church.