Even before I moved to Rome six years ago for doctoral studies in liturgy, I decided that to keep my sanity within an environment as Catholic as the Eternal City I would need to meet other Christians, even non-Christians, just for some perspective. One of the first things I did when I arrived there was to walk to the Anglican Centre, just around the corner from my house. I climbed a flight of stairs (the elevator was broken) in the Palazzo Doria Pamphili and rang the bell. I was warmly greeted by grey-haired Rev. Douglas Brown. The holes in his cardigan didn't bother him, nor did they bother me; he resembled any number of older Jesuits I had met. But Rev. Brown was not a Jesuit; he was an Australian-born Anglican priest, a member of the Society of the Sacred Mission, a small Anglican religious community. After giving me a tour of his extensive (albeit somewhat disorganized) apartment, Douglas sat me down in his study, and we spoke of our backgrounds and common interests. That visit was the beginning of a long and rich friendship, not only with the Anglican Centre but also with the clergy and parishioners of Rome's Anglican churches: All Saints (Church of England) on the Via Babuino near the Spanish Steps and St. Paul's "Within the Walls" (American-Episcopal) on the Via Nazionale near the Piazza Repúbblica. (Just a note here: there is no such thing as the Anglican Church; rather, it is the Anglican Communion of Churches, which includes the Church of England and the Episcopal Church in the United States, among others.) My approach to ecumenism has been that old Jesuit mission principle: "go in their door," enter the situation or the ecumenical context as a learner, to see with the eyes of the other. My pursuits in ecumenism had begun years earlier. As a Jesuit philosophy student at Fordham in 1982, I persuaded the rector, Fr. Andrew Brady, SJ, to invite a Methodist liturgical scholar, Donald Saliers of Emory University, to speak to the Jesuit scholastics. I knew of Don's integrity and spiritual depth, his grasp of Catholic issues, and his familiarity with Ignatian spirituality. He had even made the 30-day Ignatian retreat. Part of my idea was that Jesuits could learn something from Methodists, and I knew Don was the ideal candidate for the job. The program went as planned. At the first break, Fr. Brady called me into his office: "What a magnificent human being," he exclaimed. "What a splendid presentation. It's as if he were a Jesuit; he understands the issues so well." As a student at the Graduate Theological Union (GTU) in Berkeley, Calif., the ecumenical passion within me was again inflamed. As a consortium of nine schools, GTU shares a library, classrooms, and professors. I studied Hebrew Scriptures with two leading Presbyterian scholars at their seminary across the Bay; I studied Luther with Lutheran students at their seminary in the Berkeley hills; I studied homiletics with Methodist women preparing for ordination. Almost all of our classes met in the Episcopal Church Divinity School of the Pacific. While in San Francisco, I came into contact with two interesting Episcopal parishes. One was Grace Cathedral on Nob Hill, a wealthy parish with a passion for social justice that flows out of the liturgy far beyond the confines of that neighborhood. The other was St. Gregory Nyssan, a parish fortunate to have a very creative pastor, Richard Fabian, whose participative Sunday Eucharist relies heavily upon what we know of early synagogue worship and patristic Byzantine customs. By my association with Anglicans, I do not wish to suggest that "the grass is greener" or that the Episcopal Church is without its own problems. Likewise, when Anglican friends joke with me about when I will cross over, I quickly dissuade them: "Don't miss the point!" It is extremely important to look to those things we hold in common, for they far outweigh those that divide us.
My relationship with the Episcopal Church in Rome has flourished, so that when I preach there each year during the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity I do so not as a token Vatican emissary but as a friend of the parish community, many of whom I know by name. It makes all the difference. When the parish has liturgical questions, they call me. Once, I advised them on some renovations they wanted to make to their liturgical space, moving the altar closer to the congregation. I've also helped out with their training of liturgical readers. When the refugee center that operates from the church needed volunteers, I found some among Jesuit scholastics at the Gesù. My teaching at the Pontifical Liturgical Institute and the Gregorian University provides another ecumenical opportunity. When I was a student there, I was frustrated by the poor treatment of the Reformation and the lack of attention given to ecumenical issues. One of our professors when speaking of the Reformation would often preface his remarks with: "The Protestants say . . ." One day after class, I cornered him: "Which Protestants, Father?" After a pause he responded "Tutti i protestanti" (all the Protestants). When I remarked that Luther, Calvin, and Zwingli were quite distinct characters, he walked away with a shrug. It bothered me that many of our students would earn doctorates without knowing that the liturgical structure of the Eucharist within the Anglican, Lutheran, and Roman churches are virtually identical or that, with a few exceptions, Methodists, Anglicans, United Church of Christ, Presbyterians, and Lutherans have the same Sunday readings. In my teaching I try to give a balanced view of the Reformation and of the ecumenical convergence of liturgical matters that has taken place this century, with attention to such documents as the 1982 Lima Statement of the World Council of Churches, Baptism, Eucharist, and Ministry. Last semester there was a Swedish Lutheran seminarian in my course on eucharistic theology. Lisa had come for a semester to learn more about the Catholic roots of her faith. Since she was a visitor and knew none of the other 80 students in class, I introduced her, informing the class that she was preparing to be ordained in the Church of Sweden. "Ordained to what?" several voices yelled out from the balcony. We both ignored them, and the course continued as planned. The final class was to address the "Ecumenical Convergence in the 20th Century Regarding Eucharist and Sacrifice," and I invited Lisa to speak to the class in lieu of a final exam. She was to present a contemporary Lutheran perspective on the Eucharist, explaining the eucharistic practice of the Church of Sweden (one of the most Catholic of all the Lutheran churches, by the way). Lisa spoke eloquently in excellent Italian of her tradition, leaving several of her original hecklers in shock. She was equally competent in fielding questions following her presentation. "What about belief in the real presence, concelebration, liturgical vesture . . .?" they asked. When she responded affirmatively to the existence of all these things in the Church of Sweden, even more questions were raised. "So we're really not that different, after all," one Italian deacon remarked. During the archbishop of Canterbury's visit to the Vatican in 1996, the press chose to make women's ordination the hot issue between the pope and the archbishop. This was not the case. What was the case was a visible, tangible warmth between the two, evident in the pope's unexpected invitation to Dr. George Carey and his wife, Eileen, to join him for lunch in his apartment. The press also missed the symbolic significance of the exchange of gifts between the two Church leaders. The archbishop presented the Holy Father with a communion box engraved with the cross of Canterbury, while the pope presented the archbishop with a gold bishop's cross¯the same presented to Roman Catholic archbishops during their Ad Limina Apostolorum visits. He gave other Anglican bishops the same silver cross he gives to Roman Catholic bishops. At the ecumenical Evening Prayer held at the Church of San Gregorio, the archbishop of Canterbury was prepared to wear traditional choir dress -- cassock and surplice¯as his predecessors had done, so as not to upstage the pope dressed in mitre and cope. (The former is the arched hat worn by bishops and abbots; the latter the cape worn over alb and stole.) Instead, the Vatican sent word that Dr. Carey was also to vest in mitre and cope and that his wife was to walk in the procession. In a city where nothing is without symbolic significance, these acts on the part of the Vatican were extraordinary. Some feel that ecumenism has seen its day. When I talked recently to a prominent Catholic publisher about an ecumenically oriented volume I wanted to edit, he told me, "Forget it. Ecumenism is a dead issue. The book won't sell." As for Anglican Roman Catholic relations, there is no question that the issue of women's ordination has further complicated matters as increasing numbers of Roman Catholic women (and married men) have been joining the Episcopal Church seeking presbyteral ordination and as the number of applications from male Anglican priests (some married with children) seeking ordination in the Roman Catholic Church continues to grow. The City of Rome, however, continues to offer ecumenical opportunities. The Anglican Centre is thriving under the leadership of Canon Bruce Ruddock, assisted by his wife, Vivien. Its summer school draws an ecumenical faculty from various universities. Last October, two Anglican seminarians from Great Britain came to live with their Roman Catholic counterparts at the Venerable English College as part of an exchange program between the Church of England and the Church of Rome. On October 30, Anglican liturgical scholar and chaplain to British Parliament Canon Donald Gray of Westminster Abbey lectured at the Pontifical Liturgical Institute on the theme of "Ecumenical Liturgical Cooperation." An active ecumenical clergy association for pastors of English-speaking churches in Rome continues regular gatherings of prayer and planning for joint parish activities. Our denominational issues are there and will remain, but we must put the Gospel first, because it is our common mission together. In his address at the Centro Pro Unione (Center for Unity) in Rome, the archbishop of Canterbury raised the question: "Are we serious enough about the need for unity in God's world to want to make of our church relationships the prefigurement of this unity? Is our understanding of Church really that of pilgrimage, or, in our heart of hearts are we still really happier with images of enclosure or guardian?" Though Rome might not seem to be a natural habitat for an ecumenist, the existence of many different churches and rites and the presence of the Anglican Centre and the Centro Pro Unione make it the perfect place for living and thinking ecumenically. I do not expect any major breakthroughs in the near future, but each step makes a difference. While we wait, we can live with a "practical ecumenism," sharing those things we are able to share, regretting the disunity that continues to separate us, and caring enough about it to make a difference. Page maintained by Richard VandeVelde, vande@math.luc.edu. Copyright(c) Company Magazine 1998. Last modified: 7/10/98 |