Perspective
A habit of thinking in centuries can be dangerous to our
health
By JOHN L. ALLEN JR.
One of the hallmarks of
Romanitas, the way of seeing the world shared by those who stroll the
corridors of power in the Vatican, is the habit of thinking in
centuries. It means taking the long view of an issue or controversy, a
serene self-confidence forged by the Roman imperial heritage and 2,000 years of
church history.
Broadly speaking, this thinking in centuries can take
two forms: one, an unhurried approach above the rattle and hum of contemporary
debate; the other, a belief in the sanctity of tradition, which usually means
that God favors the status quo.
In its first form, thinking in centuries can be no bad thing. It
can foster a calm determination to think through all the dimensions of a
problem before acting. It can also allow disputes to be worked out quietly,
without wrenching public argument. These are characteristics of good management
at any level.
Yet as anyone who has ever needed something from the Vatican will
attest, it can also be an excuse for simple inertia. Why tackle a project
today, many curial bureaucrats seem to believe, if it can be put off until next
year? Unhurried can thus be a polite way of saying
lazy.
This insight helps explain why John XXIII, when asked how many
people work in the Vatican, is said to have replied: About
half.
It is in its second form, however, that thinking in centuries is
truly worrisome. The belief that time will always vindicate the system is an
invitation to arrogance, a way of insulating oneself from criticism.
To put the point in psychiatric language, this kind of thinking in
centuries is a means of compensating for cognitive dissonance: When your
world-view collides with reality, you either revise your view or somehow
redefine reality. Vatican officials do the latter by basing decisions not on
present realities but on an imaginary future rooted in (selectively remembered)
past experience.
Dont worry about the obvious pastoral damage resulting from
the refusal to consider ordaining women, for example, or the clamor for local
selection of bishops; todays passion will be tomorrows outmoded
cliché. That this assumption has sometimes proven disastrously flawed --
leading to, among other things, two great ruptures in the Christian family, the
split between East and West and the Protestant Reformation -- is
overlooked.
What is especially ironic is that todays successors of the
apostles seem to be repeating a mistake of the first generation of Christian
leaders, only in reverse.
The first apostles expected Jesus to return immediately; this view
is clear in Pauls early writings, where he advises Christians to remain
as they are and await the coming of the Lord. Paul thought not in centuries but
in weeks, even days. While the Vatican seems to expect things to stay pretty
much as they are, the earliest Christians anticipated immediate and radical
change.
The process of rethinking this belief, interpreting the Second
Coming as a more distant reality, is already evident in Pauls later work.
But in the meantime, most of what would become Christianitys sacred
literature was in various stages of composition, shaped by belief in an
imminent Parousia.
This false view of time had toxic consequences. The earliest
Christian authors developed no systematic social critique -- what was the point
if the old order was about to be swept away? Its clear from reading Paul
that he believes Jesus has upset every form of oppression -- We were
baptized into one body with a single spirit, Jews as well as Greeks, slaves as
well as free men. Yet Pauls general silence on social change
allowed the books ascribed to Paul in the second century -- but not written by
him -- to present him as an establishment figure (slaves, obey your
masters).
Subsequent generations of Christian leaders endorsed, even
participated in, systems of power and privilege without feeling they were
contradicting any of their religions central tenets. Christianitys
social critique lay largely implicit and unspoken until Leo XIII began to tease
it out in the late 19th century.
A mistaken view of time, in other words, led the first generation
of Christian leaders into a serious omission. If the original apostles could
miscalculate in their understanding of what the future would bring, surely
its conceivable that those who claim succession from the apostles may be
similarly off the mark.
Perhaps Vatican officials, without sacrificing any of the wisdom
embodied in their legendary caution, could pay a bit more heed to the signs of
our times.
John L. Allen Jr. is NCRs opinion editor. He may
be reached at jallen@natcath.org
National Catholic Reporter, June 4,
1999
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