"Holy Father,
I pray not only for these,
but also for those who will believe in me through their word,
so that they may all be one,
as you, Father, are in me and I in you,
that they also may be in us,
that the world may believe that you sent me.
I have visited the Conventual Franciscan Church of Saint Josaphat in Milwaukee Wisconsin and remembered him as a martyr, but had little knowledge of him. Represented with a halbard, I supposed he might be a warrior. This article proves he was a man ahead of his time, and his time is today. I should be more familiar with him. I should have known the defenseless man was struck down with a halbard.
Saint John Paul II's first encyclical invoked the words of Jesus, Ut Unum Sint, "That all may be one." There can be only one Body of Christ, and yet we have lived with sad division for a thousand years. When Saint Josaphat, in 1623, sought to reunite his Orthodox church with Rome he met ferocious opposition that devolved into mob violence and murder. The Roman Church canonized him and retrieved his relics for burial in a Roman church; but the Orthodox opposition also had martyrs who died at Roman hands. Neither church could claim the innocence of "peaceful resistance."
Jesus died precisely to show us the infinite mercy of God; he consecrated himself to the Father that all may be one.
With his resurrection, Jesus sent his disciples "to all the nations" to announce the Good News. That mission has been blessing and burden. We cannot consider ourselves Christian unless we are announcing the Gospel to strangers; but that mission, of its nature, means that we must be stretched. Not merely stressed, but stretched.
We are naturally attracted to people like ourselves. In a crowd of strangers we steer clear of the strangest and gravitate toward the familiar; or, if necessary, the least unfamiliar. If our wants and habits don't set limits to this outreach, language barriers will. If we're unsure of our own faith, we will certainly not stretch our hearts to include the faith of outlandish strangers.
The first disciples spread throughout the Roman world, using their common Greek language. But as the empire collapsed and nations were scattered, languages changed, customs evolved separately, and misunderstandings bred suspicion. Religion was often diverted to serve and support legitimate, though warring, governments. By the eleventh century, Islam controlled the Mediterranean Sea, and Germanic warlords blocked the roadways from Italy to Greece. With little communication and no commerce, the eastern and western churches -- Greek and Roman -- vied for the claim of "The True Church." The split came with mutual recriminations in 1054.
Reunion seemed impossible into the twentieth century, and remains, even, yet, hard to imagine. How do we reconcile with those who killed our martyrs in good faith? Can we canonize those we condemned as heretics? Pope Saint John XXIII realized the world was changing and the time had come to reopen ecumenical discussions with the Orthodox Churches. That original rent within the whole cloth of Christ's church must be repaired, perhaps even before the divisions between Roman Catholic and Protestant.
Fortunately, unlike our ancestors of only a century ago, we can imagine one Church which prays in many different languages, sings different hymns,and uses different gestures to worship the Father through the Son and in the Holy Spirit. So long as Jesus is the center of our church we can recognize different liturgical traditions and their fidelity to his Passion, Death, and Resurrection. We are one in him and our differing ideas are not terribly important.
The Great Schism did not happen suddenly; it was centuries in the making. Nor will the atonement happen quickly or easily. That millions of Catholics and Protestants know nothing about the tragedy of 1054 indicates just how difficult the process must be. Introduced to the challenge, many will dismiss it as irrelevant to their personal life or spirituality. They do not feel the agony of a fractured church; they take for granted the scandal of a church divided.
This memorial of Saint Josaphat calls us to prayer with popes and patriarchs, and with the Lord Himself, ut unum sint, that all may be one.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.