"Deacon Reader" Summer Reading 6

Chapter 3 - The Deacon and Gaudium et Spes (Fr. McPartlan)

This essay argues that "We must try... to relate the diaconate... to some of the major principles of Vatican II's teaching," and especially to the main themes of the Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, Gaudium et Spes.

The first major principle he notes, in the second paragraph and following, is Church unity (my p. 57). Charity, he notes, serves unity, as does the authentic kerygma of the Good News, along with reaching out to the marginalized (probably envisioning both ecumenism and social justice) and defending the rights of the weak. Then he has a long section on the relationship between Church and the world, and the relevance of this to the diaconate (which we'll come back to in a moment), before listing other major principles at the end (by way of demonstrating what he's been trying to say). The other major principles he notes (my p. 73) are (2) the Church as servant, (3) the central role of the College of Bishops (and the implications of this for the meaning of the Sacrament of Holy Orders), (4) that "good liturgy animates the apostolate [of the laity]," and (5) solidarity.

Now, as principles for the Church, these five are quite solid. The challenge of the essay is in the part about the relationship of Church and world.

He wants to argue that the Church and the world should be united in the manner of "seamlessness" (p. 65, beginning of the section, "Deacons and the New Ecclesial Embrace of the World"). He says, "Everything she [the Church] does is for the salvation of the world, of which she is thoroughly a part" (p. 60, just after the long quote from JP2 at the Assisi ecumenical meeting in 2002).

Now, there's an obviously sense in which this is true: the Church has never not understood herself to be both "in the world" and "for the world." Even the most isolated hermit serves the world by praying and sacrificing. And every attempt to deny that Christ established the Church for the whole world (e.g., Manicheaism in the 4th-5th c., Waldensians et al in the 12th c., Jansenism in the 18th-19th c.) has been roundly condemned.

But at the same time, the Church has also always understood that she is supposed to be "not of the world." The world is fallen. Original sin exists. Personal sin exists. This is the universal and unchanging basis for admitting that we need a Savior. By baptism, we die in a very real sense, in the order of fallen nature, so that we can live the new life of Christ. The life of struggling to carry the Cross is, at the most basic, completely different from the life of not struggling to carry the Cross.

It's not clear in this essay that this "seamlessness" argument includes both of these terms. The "in and for the world" part predominates; the conversion part is hard to see. At best, it's implicitly present in what is preached, and how that preaching might be received by the modern world.

In the section on the "Deacon and the New Ecclesial Embrace..." (my p. 65ff), he states that deacons should be signs of this seamless solidarity; present in the world, somewhat like what the worker-priest movement tried in the 1950's; a kind of link between altar and world (he doesn't mention that both priests and laity do this also, each in different ways from deacons); a reader of the signs of the times and an applier of the Gospel to them.

If he means all this as "in and for the world" only, without the expectation of conversion to Christ, then all this is pretty obviously flawed. Without the demand of conversion, solidarity degenerates into mere niceness; presence gives way to autonomy and moral relativism; the Eucharistic altar stands well apart from the world; and the signs of the times can never say anything truly human, but only fads and whims as culture drifts.

I have a hard time thinking this is what Fr. McPartlan really meant. So, we must read in explicitly the need for conversion. Then I think his argument is pretty good, although still imprecise. With the demand for conversion to Christ (even if that demand is not made explicit in every act), then these things make more sense. Solidarity with my neighbor is a way of being in Christ, together; presence brings the grace of Christ into a situation; the Eucharistic altar calls everyone to truth and beauty; and the signs of the times can speak essential human needs, where Mercy is most hungered for.

But, I still note that this is only descriptive, not definitive. I argue that the set of {solidarity, presence, linking to the altar, and responding to true need} is what deacons do, not because of ordination, but because of baptism. These four aspects are general modes of discipleship. We have to dig deeper if we want to see in what particular, unique manner they are modes of diaconal ministry.

For example, in his opening list of principles, he notes the special role of the College of Bishops, and therefore of ordained ministry, and therefore (one infers) of the particular share in the apostolic ministry each of the lower grades (priests and deacons) receives. So how does the sacred power to proclaim the Gospel by word and action, in liturgy and in ministry, give a unique shape or character to the deacon's particular discipleship? He says it should be "symbolic of their [deacons'] relationships and activities in the world at large" (my p. 76, third-to-last paragraph). But none of our sacraments are mere symbols; so, symbolic in what sacramental sense?

Likewise, the principle that good liturgy animates the apostolate clearly means something different for deacons than for priests, since our liturgical roles are distinct. So, what exactly does it mean for deacons? How can we, in our liturgical ministry, be in solidarity with the laity, or with the whole world; or be present to them; or link them to the Eucharist; or (help) respond to their actual needs for grace and mercy?

Norms of justice

In today's Office of Readings, we find this passage from Wisdom (expressing the rejection of God by the unrepentant):

But let our strength be our norm of justice;
for weakness proves itself useless.
Let us beset the just one, because he is obnoxious to us;
he sets himself against our doings,
reproaches us for transgressions of the law
and charges us with violations of our training.
He professes to have knowledge of God
and styles himself a child of the Lord.
To us he is the censure of our thoughts;
merely to see him is a hardship for us,
because his life is not like other men's,
and different are his ways.

The just one in this passage is of course Jesus Christ; but since we belong to Him, what is said about Him should also be said in some sense about us. Our lives should be different enough from the lives of those who don't belong to Him to be noticed, to be a reproach - a positive witness to His love and truth, and an implicit invitation to conversion. If strength is the norm of justice for those who don't belong to Christ, how can it be the norm of justice for those of us who do? Of course, it isn't supposed to be. The whole paradox of the Cross, of the truth that "when I am weak, then I am strong," is supposed to be our norm.

I think this applies to our witness as families in a special way. To be weak as a family doesn't mean to be a doormat; it means to be humble in our submission to the demands of that vocation. As husbands, in particular, those of us who are or hope to become deacons are called to subordinate our own needs to those of our wife and children; and to the extent that is reasonably and prudently compatible with that priority, to subordinate our needs to those of our neighbor, also. In other words, we are to choose to love, to "prefer the good of the other, even to our own good." This is how we show that Christ is indeed our Lord; and that marriage is indeed a very special and fundamental form of service, not something that feeds and strengthens our baser appetites in "socially acceptable" ways.

When Joe asked us this past Saturday to consider the point of view of those who support the legality of SSM, I jumped on that idea -- the idea, I say, not the people who hold it -- as hard and as strong as I could. I hope it was clear from the discussion and what followed, that I did this, not because I don't want to consider the idea, but because I have considered it, and I know and believe that this idea requires precisely that rejection of God expounded in this passage of Wisdom. I grant that many, perhaps even most or all, of the people who support the legality of SSM do not see this implication, that they don't intend to reject God, and that their desire for justice is real. But nevertheless these ideas are incompatible with each other.

So, simply in respect of our vocation as husbands and fathers, not to mention our vocation as deacons, we cannot afford the confusion -- clear to the eyes of faith, if not to worldly eyes -- of mistaking our strength, our own idolatrous norm of justice, for God's will. It is always a mistake to believe that weakness proves itself useless, for this is fundamentally a rejection of the Cross. And our weakness here needs to be a daily, joyful commitment, in prayer and action, that "not my will, but Yours, be done."

St. Ambrose on service

St. Ambrose has a very thought-provoking exegesis on the footwashing in John 13 – icon of Christ’s diakonia – as the mutual sanctification of kerygma. It’s not just the Gospel message, but it’s the “water of the message,” the “heavenly dew” of divine love making our minds and hearts fruitful for Him. To wash feet in imitation of Christ means to proclaim the Gospel in such a way that, in oneself and in those who hear and accept the Gospel, holiness of life and intimacy with Christ result. Notice how the Liturgy of the Hours and lectio divina are even more fundamental to this sanctification than baptizing (!!). He’s thinking of himself as bishop, of course, and the fundamentals of fulfilling his ministry with all seven sacraments and the whole “triple munera.” But I think the same must also apply to those who share the duties of the bishop in the degree of the diaconate.

“How great is that excellence! As a servant, You wash the feet of Your disciples; as God, You send dew from heaven. Nor do You wash the feet only, but also invite us to sit down with You, and by the example of Your dignity do exhort us, saying: You call Me Master and Lord, and you do well, for so I am. If, then, I the Lord and Master have washed your feet, you ought also to wash one another’s feet (Jn 13:13-14). I, then, wish also myself to wash the feet of my brethren, I wish to fulfill the commandment of my Lord, I will not be ashamed in myself, nor disdain what He Himself did first. Good is the mystery of humility, because while washing the pollutions of others I wash away my own…. It is not, then, the simple water of the heavenly mystery whereby we attain to be found worthy of having part with Christ. There is also a certain water which we put into the basin of our soul, water from the fleece and from the Book of Judges; water, too, from the Book of Psalms. It is the water of the message from heaven. Let, then, this water, O Lord Jesus, come into my soul, into my flesh, that through the moisture of this rain the valleys of our minds and the fields of our hearts may grow green…. You have redeemed the world, redeem the soul of a single sinner. This is the special excellence of Your loving-kindness, wherewith You have redeemed the whole world one by one.” (On the Holy Spirit, Book I.14-17)