Saturday 16 April 2005

The Embodiment of Papacy

In these weeks of two funerals and a wedding there has been no shortage of events to engage our attention in matters of pomp and circumstance.  With all due respect to the family of Prince Rainier, and to Prince Charles and the Duchess of Cornwall, the most important events by far have been the death of Pope John Paul II, his funeral, and the preparations for the election of his successor.  Though not a Roman Catholic myself, I have watched the unfolding of these events with fascination. 

Because of a unique set of historical circumstances, the papal office can validly claim to hold the de facto succession from the ancient Roman Emperors who held sway over the western half of the Roman Empire.  Up until the 4^th century the Christian community in the empire comprised an important, but illegal and oppressed, component of the population.  The change under the Emperor Constantine � who was first proclaimed Emperor at York in 306, at a site approximately marked by center doors of the south transept of Yorkminster � brought Christianity to the forefront.  As a result, the bishops of the Christian community in the city of Rome became prominent leaders, and acquired the incidental pagan title of Pontifex Maximus along the way.  But for a time they were just that, prominent leaders among a cadre of bishops, and nothing more.  As late as the year 400 the opinion of the Bishop of Rome could be disputed and essentially written off by other bishops in the western Church, as happened during the raging controversy between St. Augustine of Hippo and the British monk Pelagius.  (The Bishop of Rome actually sided with Pelagius, who was nonetheless later regarded as a heretic.)  The unique blending of ecclesial and political power that has characterized the papacy across the centuries began a few years later, in the mid-fifth century. 

From time to time I have told religion classes that Leo the Great, who was Bishop of Rome from 440 to 461, was the first �real Pope.�  I say this because he lived at the time when the Western Roman Empire was in full collapse and, facing the onslaught of the barbarian hordes, Leo rose to the challenge.  This was also the era when, in distant Britain, a mysterious figure of legend (known to us as Arthur) was fending off the Saxons and the Picts in the wake of the departed Roman legions.  Meanwhile in Ireland a Welsh missionary named Patrick was winding up his life of service in establishing Christianity among the pagan Celts.  The night of the Dark Ages was rapidly descending, but a few heroic leaders of such ilk stood in the gap to try to hold on to the heritage of Romanitas, as well as to their religion. 

In the absence of effective military or political leadership, Pope Leo I became the protector of the city and people of Rome on several occasions.  In 452 he confronted none other than Attila the Hun at the river Mincio near Rome, and got Attila to back down and withdraw to the Danube.  (What sort of chap would he have to have been to face down Attila!?)  In 455 Leo was not able to avert the Vandal occupation of the city, but he did prevent a massacre.  And, in addition to his influential teachings that helped shape the outcome of the great Ecumenical Council of Chalcedon in 451, Leo also extended and firmed up the authority of the Bishop of Rome over the church in the old imperial areas of Gaul, Spain, and North Africa.  In a real sense he was very much the creator of the later �Roman Catholic� Church, providing leadership and direction over a vast area in the midst of a great power vacuum. 

After Leo the papacy emerged as the one authoritative institution in the west that could intervene amongst the battling tribes and emerging strongmen, as well as among bickering bishops.  The church gained dominance over the formerly pagan Merovingians in France, and then struggled with Charlemagne in the creation of the Holy Roman Empire.  (Although it is said that Charlemagne was none too pleased when, on Christmas Day in the year 800, Pope Leo III unexpectedly plopped the imperial crown on his head at mass.)  By the mid-eleventh century Pope Gregory VII was powerful enough to keep the Holy Roman Emperor standing barefoot in the snow in the papal courtyard for several days before deigning to receive him.   

Papal power continued to increase through the era of the Crusades, and by the time of Benedict VIII (circa 1300) the claims had grown to the point that Benedict claimed that it was necessary for every political ruler on earth to be subject to the Roman Pontiff, and that they derived their just powers from him.  In a way the old Roman ideology of world domination had found a new manifestation, coyly masked in the universalism of the gospel.  And while successive popes soon fell into the era of the papal schism, and then into the Reformation and the fracturing of the western Church, the claims of Benedict were long maintained in somewhat more subtle and nuanced forms. 

It was really with the Revolutions of the 18^th and 19^th centuries that the old imperial papacy came to its political end.  The shock of the French Revolution was followed by the spectacle of Napoleon hauling Pius VII off to France to preside at his coronation.  And yet when the time came, Napoleon grabbed the imperial wreath away from the Vicar of Christ so that he might crown himself.  It was a thousand years from Charlemagne to Napoleon, and yet the implicit symbolism of the Bonaparte�s action was unmistakable. 

In Napoleon�s wake the restored Popes held on to their political power in Italy for a few more decades.  (While the Holy Roman Empire morphed into Austria-Hungary.)  But under Pius IX (1846-1878) the last real vestige of the temporal authority of the papacy over Rome finally came to an end, on September 20, 1870, the day the forces of Garibaldi and the new Italian monarchy occupied the city.  All that was left was the tiny postage-stamp of the Vatican City-State, inside which Pius IX and several of his successors lived in self-imposed house arrest. 

Ironically, the end of actual papal temporal power seems to have laid the groundwork for a resurgence of papal influence around the world.  From 1878 to 1978 the successors of Pius IX grew in stature as world figures.  As a child in the 60s I clearly remember the trip of Pope Paul VI to the United Nations, and the importance given at the time to that precedent-shattering visit.  And then, in 1978, came the phenomenon of John Paul II. 

�JPII� has been amazing.  We all know the story, at least in part.  No Pope in history has personally lectured and taken to task so many world leaders.  And while he may not have actually �caused� the downfall of Communism, he certainly helped hasten its timely end.  At the same time he managed to reach across religious divides among and beyond Christianity, visiting synagogues and mosques, and gathering the leaders of the world faiths together at Assisi to pray together.  But then he grew old and ill, and as he declined his doctrinal conservatism seemed to come more and more to the forefront. 

The coverage of John Paul�s funeral on April 8 was perhaps the most remarkable historical scene I have ever watched.  Long after the departure of the Caesars, and some 1550 years after Leo the Great faced down Attila, the city of Rome was the focus of the entire planet.  Kings, Queens, Princes, Presidents, and Prime Ministers thronged in.  Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant Christians were joined by Jewish, Muslim, and Buddhist religious leaders.  St. Peter�s Square was filled with hundreds of thousands of just plain people, so many of them young.  And in the midst, a plain wooden coffin topped by a copy of the gospels, the pages flipping about in the wind.  I�m trying hard to wrap my mind around all of it. 

The phenomenon of the papacy of John Paul II cannot be understood apart from the history of the papacy spanning two millennia.  It is the oldest continuous major office on the world scene.  It is the last and largest �absolute� monarchy on earth� albeit an elective one.  The papal monarchs continue to rule, in ways that the Caesars would have envied, from the capital city of the ancient empire that on April 8, 2005, served as the capital city of the world.  �City and World.�  �Urbs et Orbi.� That traditional papal blessing fittingly became the farewell gesture of John Paul II � now touted by some as �John Paul the Great� � on Easter Sunday 2005. 

When Princess Diana died, the world was transfixed, but she was never really a figure who embodied the institution she represented.  In fact, she was in so many ways a threat to that institution.  Whatever else, John Paul II was an embodiment of all the history of the imperial papacy stretching from Leo the Great, to Gregory VII, to Innocent III, to Pius IX, and on down to John XXIII.  As a Protestant (Presbyterian) Christian, I have never myself believed that the Roman Pontiffs are the authoritative representatives of Jesus on earth.  And I have profound reservations on the positions John Paul II took on issues like women�s ordination, birth control, and human sexuality.  But as a historian and observer all I can say is:  �By God, the man was a Pope!�  He truly embodied the historic office he held in an unparalleled manner, and his death may well mark the passing of a climactic moment in the history of western civilization.  May he now rest in peace.  And let�s keep an eye out for the white smoke�.

Yours aye,

- Ken Cuthbertson

P.S.  I must apologize to a reader who wrote me concerning last month�s column a week or two ago.  I accidentally deleted it before reading it.  I am sorry, and I hope you�ll write again.