Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Benedict XVI as an exemplar of the changing role of the church and state


I am not a political scientist or a modern theologian. However, as I always tell my students, I pretend to be both. The problem with that, of course, is that having a little knowledge is sometimes far more dangerous than having none. However, this blog is specifically set up for me to workshop ideas rather than publish papers. I do hope that some who know more than me about modern theology and politics might have some helpful feedback.

I ran across a fascinating article on how Pope Benedict XVI is both alike and different from John Paul II. Right now there is all kinds of discussion about why Benedict is retiring (including some conspiracy theories that are so absurd as to be howlers). I have no interest in that aspect of his papacy – except for perhaps the new precedent that might be being set (though time will only tell there), and how he will function in retirement (will he, like other retired world leaders continue to be active in nonofficial roles, etc.). However, this excellent study by Brian Flanagan does not get involved in conspiracy theories about the pope’s retirement, instead it focuses on his legacy and asks what he did and how.[1]

Flanagan proposes that while staying in the tradition of John Paul II theologically, Benedict did it in an entirely new way. Rather than being the charismatic personality that traveled the world, he focused on the office of the bishop of Rome and spoke outwardly through the office, often hiding his persona from the public. Consider Flanagan’s comments:

In contrast to John Paul’s sense of personal, charismatic authority, Benedict’s model of papacy views its authority as rooted in the office itself, in the duties and responsibilities of the bishop of Rome, and in the pope as the guarantor of the tradition of the church. In comparison to John Paul, Benedict at times seemed to hide his personality behind his words, and to hide his particular preferences and theological opinions behind the office itself. I believe that this was intentional—not just a matter of personal idiosyncracy, but a conscious change of direction toward a less personality-driven papacy. At one level, it was rooted in a theology of episcopal collegiality that he assisted in crafting as a peritus (‘expert’) at the Second Vatican Council. But at a deeper level, it is consistent with his relative suspicion of the mechanisms of a secular world. As an Augustinian theologian, Benedict, despite his twitter feed, exercised a great deal of caution when stepping out into the whirlwind of the modern media cycle. He avoided, by choice as well as by temperament, much of the cult of personality that has been such a dominant aspect of the modern papacy and which arguably reached its apex in the example of John Paul. His resignation is therefore a coda, not a surprise ending, to a deliberately diminished, intentionally less monarchical, model of papacy.[2]
One can see that Flanagan interestingly suggests that the lack of the charismatic individual and instead the office actually has the effect of shifting the figure of the pope to be a less domineering force. Theologically, this makes some sense (and there is reason to think that much of what Benedict does is motivated by what makes sense theologically to him) – it is the seat of Peter which has authority – the human on it is temporary.

While I believe that Flanagan is probably correct, I also think that this is an example of how religion and politics have changed in the past several hundred years all the way to the role of the bishop of Rome. To show how it is changed, it is first necessary to understand the “two swords” doctrine which was established by Pope Gelasius I (492-496).  The concept was that God had two swords by which he would exercise his will – the sacred and the state. However, the true sovereign was God. Further, there was an obligation that all of God’s believers were in his kingdom and it was the moral duty of this authority to have that sovereignty expressed (despite whatever political borders might be the case).[3] While the two swords theology might sound like a division between the church and state, the argument was that God was the true sovereign and all government or church was merely his agent. Further, the church (encapsulated in the Bishop of Rome) was the interpreter for God, and as such, the church became the de facto authority of the world. While this might be shocking to some, for this paper, the question of who was truly in charge has less importance than the idea of sovereignty spreading beyond political borders (and therefore justifying moving beyond those borders as a role the government and the church in tandem out to be doing).

This model was challenged by the famous Peace of Westphalia in 1648 at the conclusion of the 30 years war. Many are aware of the decision at the end of the thirty years war which allowed states to choose their own religion (or rather the ruler of states to choose their religion) – “cuius regio, eius religio.” The practical argument presented was that political borders now were sovereign in and of themselves. So long as a nation did not bother others, they could do mostly as they pleased. The idea of sovereignty had formally changed. Not surprisingly, Pope Innocent X condemned the peace of Westphalia as a direct challenge to the two swords theology.[4]

The Peace of Westphalia, however, has mostly failed. While it is true that there is a basic idea of national independence from others, the idea that a nation can simply do whatever it likes without the rest of world stopping them is simply not the case. The volume of the Sacred and the Sovereign was conference papers discussing the Kosovo military operation. Aside from what one thinks of running interference for a Presidential sex scandal, the stated reasons for the Kosovo military operation were that what the government in Kosovo was doing to its own people was unacceptable (hardly the Westphalian idea about allowing someone to do whatever they liked so long as it was in their own borders). I should present as an addendum that I do not know the intricacies of the Kosovo conflict and I would have no doubt if there were in fact many things going on with the crises that had little to do with international politics.

The observation most notable in the volume was that while there is no idea of a universal religion any longer (the two swords theology only works if the government believes the views of the church), but instead a universal value system that allows some things but not others. It begins to ask the question, “what would it say about us if we did not act on behalf of these others.”[5] Therefore, religion does have an important place – but no longer is it because it is assumed that all nations should be following the sovereignty of God. Instead, the true sovereignty surpasses any figure or nation and instead is in a system of ethical values.

The way the church can still have a place globally is through these “global” values (understanding that not everyone has these values, but the idea is presented here just to show the international nature of activities). John Paul II, for instance, accomplished this task through his charismatic personality. Aside from a few moments of directly challenging the Soviet Union, John Paul II, for the most part traveled the world and encouraged politicians and laypeople to act in certain ways in accordance with universal values (of course those values would be channeled to be in accordance with those of the Roman Catholic church). Benedict XVI did it in a different way – through the office of the Papacy, he presented the values that he felt should be universally held (with his controversial comments about homosexuality, Islam, etc.).

What is most present, however, is the abandonment of desire to truly have the two swords theology expressed as they might have during the period before the Reformation. One did not see, for example, either Pope leaning upon world leaders to act in certain ways because it was their duty as God’s arm to bring universal religiosity upon the earth. Instead, when they exercised their political ambitions, it was independent – either through being so well liked, or through their own office.

Here, I do not attempt to get involved with the intricacies of Roman Catholic politics – not only is it something that is not my interest, I do not have the knowledge to truly speak about it. What is strking here is how churches and government are expected to interact. No longer do we even have the Bishop of Rome sitting down and meeting with world leaders to be their top advisor on practical political matters in most cases. Instead, it is a much more nuanced argument about values that show a more “modern” tendency.

A final note is simply a caveat that I do not believe that either of these popes particularly was innovative in this matter. I am sure that previous papacies were in accord with this. I only use these two current popes as examples to show a general trend.


[1] Brian Flanagan, “John Paul II, Benedict XVI, and the upcoming conclave: Considering the role of the pope in a post-Christian world” Marginalia Review of Books, http://themarginaliareview.com/archives/1833, accessed Feb. 27, 2013.
[2] Ibid.
[3] John D. Carlson and Erik C. Owens, “Reconsidering Westphalia’s Legacy for Religion and International Politics” in John D. Carlson and Erik C. Owes (eds.) The Sacred and the Sovereign: Religion and International Politics (Washington D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 2003), 12-14.
[4] Ibid., 14-19.
[5] Susanne Hoeber Rudolph, “Religious Concomitants of Transnationalism: From a Universal Church to a Universal Religiosity?” Sacred and the Sovereign, 139-153.

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