Enhancing Catholic School Identity: Shedding More Light

Abstract

This article responds to Professor Robyn Horner’s attempt to rebut the claim that the Enhancing Catholic School Identity Project is antithetical to the evangelizing mission of the Church. It does so by engaging in a deeper analysis of some key concepts in the theology undergirding the Project: literal belief, immanence, presence, symbol, recontextualisation, interruption, and hermeneutics. It points out Horner’s misunderstanding of evangelization and draws attention to the fact that she does not attempt to rebut my critique of the Project’s understanding of faith and reason. It concludes by presenting a fundamental theological flaw of the Project: the absence of pneumatology.

Reading Professor Robyn Horner’s attempt to rebut my critique of the Enhancing Catholic School Identity Project, ¹ I find that she misunderstands me on many points. In my article ² I attempted to cover a great deal of ground: giving a basic explanation of the Project for the uninitiated, explaining and critiquing 11 fundamental concepts employed by it, and presenting an alternative to it. Perhaps the necessary brevity of my criticisms excuses some of Horner’s misconceptions. However, I welcome this opportunity to more fully explain why the Project is antithetical to the evangelizing mission of the Church. First, I will critique Horner’s explanation of what the Project means by ‘literal belief,’ ‘immanence,’ ‘presence,’ ‘symbol,’ ‘recontextualisation,’ ‘interruption,’ and ‘hermeneutics.’ Then I will address her misunderstanding of what I mean by ‘evangelization.’ Next, I will draw attention to her failure to address my criticisms of the Project’s understanding of faith and reason. Finally, I will comment on the Project’s lack of pneumatology.

Literal Belief

The main point of contention regarding the issue of literal belief is: what is meant by the miracle stories being ‘real events’? Concerning this point, Horner quotes the Pontifical Biblical Commission’s The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church to the effect that the literal sense needs to be discerned through ‘a careful analysis of the text within its literary and historical context.’ ³ For her, this means that ‘a “literal” meaning does not necessarily imply that the biblical writer is relating or referring to an eye-witness account of an event; a “literal” meaning of a text might involve recognizing clues in the text that plainly indicate that the writer is speaking metaphorically, for example.’ ⁴ She goes on to say that, ‘It is possible to affirm the miracle stories as real events, however, without presuming that a literalist reading reflects an accurate grasp of what the biblical author intended.’ ⁵ In this general statement there is no explicit engagement with the Project’s examples, to which I referred, that ‘Jesus actually walked over water, the deceased Lazarus came to life again.’ ⁶ These examples are immediately preceded by ‘the world was created in exactly seven days, Noah’s ark really existed, Gods [sic] voice sounded from the blackberry bush.’ No distinction is made. They are presented as the same kind of events. The adverbs ‘exactly,’ ‘really,’ and ‘actually’ reveal this.

The Project presents these miracles of Jesus as indications by the Evangelists of ‘the special, divine nature of Jesus.’ ⁷ However, that is not all that the Gospel authors intended. They also intended them to be eyewitness accounts. In the case of Luke, he explicitly tells us that he intended to report the accounts of ‘eyewitnesses and ministers of the word’ (Lk 1:2). ⁸ This does not mean that the accounts of Jesus’ thaumaturgic acts are the equivalent of contemporary audio and video recordings. But they are accounts of ‘real’ events in the simplest sense of the term. Jesus cast out demons, healed lepers, walked on water, and raised the dead. The Catechism of the Catholic Church refers to Peter’s Pentecost sermon that God attested to Jesus’ messianic identity through the mighty works and wonders and signs which he worked through him (cf. Acts 2:22–36). ⁹ The accounts of these thaumaturgic acts are not just ways for the Gospel authors to express a belief that Jesus was, in some way, divine. Rather, they are presented as demonstrations by God that Jesus was the long-awaited Messiah.

Immanence

Horner tries to portray Pollefeyt as genuinely Christo-centric in his understanding of revelation. She quotes him as saying that ‘it is important to underline that this transcendence [of God] in the Christian tradition is also marked by immanence though the confession of a God who in history was incarnated in a unique way as Jesus of Nazareth, who is Christ.’ ¹⁰ Horner’s gloss on this statement is that Pollefeyt agrees with the proposition that ‘Christ is the one Mediator . . . who reveals who God is and incorporation into Christ which makes relationship with God possible.’ ¹¹ However, does Pollefeyt really think this? To answer this question, we need to investigate further, beginning with what he means by ‘immanence.’ He is using the correct term, but is he using it in the correct way?

As he explains, the human person is a ‘fragile hermeneutical space’ with ‘a radical openness to reality, an essential indeterminateness and an ability to transcend his or her reality.’ ¹² This human person is made in the image of God. ¹³ Pollefeyt follows Emmanuel Levinas in saying that this image is revealed in the human face ‘as the revelation of radical otherness, indeterminacy and vulnerability.’ ¹⁴ For Pollefeyt this means that the hermeneutical space is the inbuilt capacity in the human being for receiving meaning. It is in this hermeneutical space that God can reveal himself as the ‘ultimate, fulfilling other.’ ¹⁵ Because of the indeterminacy and vulnerability of the hermeneutical space, the goal in Catholic religious education should be to bring students to an awareness of this and a concomitant acceptance that others can validly arrive at different meanings. ¹⁶ For Catholics, the goal must be to help them move from a ‘first naivety’ that unthinkingly accepts the Catholic faith to a ‘second naivety’ wherein ‘one’s faith is re-confessed but with a greater consciousness of one’s particularity (e.g. “I am Catholic”) and vulnerability (e.g. “I know that it is not self-evident to be a Catholic”).’ ¹⁷ In other words, greater consciousness but less confidence. Here we must ask what kind of self-evidence is being proposed. It is certainly not rationally self-evident that one should be a Catholic, but is it self-evident to faith? Is it self-evident to Pollefeyt and Horner that they should be Catholic?

What does all this mean for immanence? For Pollefeyt the hermeneutical space is open to what he calls ‘immanent transcendence’ and ‘transcendent transcendence.’ ¹⁸ The first is an openness to ‘experiences of truth, goodness, and beauty in the here-and-now.’ ¹⁹ The second is an openness to God. The role of teachers in a Catholic school is to ‘bear witness to this transcendent God.’ ²⁰ However, in so doing it must not be forgotten that ‘this transcendence in the Christian tradition is also marked by immanence through the confession of a God who in history was incarnated in a unique way as Jesus of Nazareth.’ ²¹ What does it mean to be ‘marked by immanence’? It means that:

the relationship with God could be described as a break-through into the hermeneutical space of something (or better, Someone) radically different—one that connects, fills, anchors and unifies what I cannot connect, fill, anchor and unify through my own efforts, but for which I have a deep longing. For the believer, to experience and meet this God is like bathing in a light that comes from elsewhere, that creates unity and tenderness in the hermeneutical space, makes one feel gratitude, brings peace, invites for prayer, promises a future, but also instils a sense of responsibility and allows the world to be seen through different eyes. ²²

We can see that there is nothing Christological in this vague monotheistic mysticism, always remembering that Christ is both a pneumatological and Trinitarian title. Subsequently, Pollefeyt tries to reassure us that what he presents is authentically Catholic. He writes of ‘The confession of the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the God of Jesus Christ.’ ²³ He says that God reveals himself ‘in the depth and mystery of one’s own hermeneutical space.’ ²⁴ But to experience and meet this God ‘one must first be initiated in a specific, basic set of stories, rituals, traditions, etc. that provide the means of meeting with God in the hermeneutical space.’ ²⁵ Our God is a ‘fragile God’ who ‘comes to us through a series of mediations provided to us through stories, rituals, tradition, community, etc. . . . God cannot be encountered without mediation through the Bible, the Tradition and the Church.’ ²⁶

Pollefeyt goes on to talk about the ‘revelation of God in Christ,’ and that Christ is ‘the being whose existence has become the most transparent for encountering God because He comes from God. He is Himself the Son of God.’ ²⁷ But these words fall short since the one missing is the Holy Spirit. Pollefeyt’s ‘mediations,’ while necessary, are not sufficient. Without the Holy Spirit they cannot mediate anything. In truth, Jesus is the Christ because he is the one sent by the Father and anointed by the Father with the Holy Spirit, the one who subsequently pours out the Holy Spirit upon us. Pollefeyt’s ‘mediations’ have nothing to do with this Christ. ‘Initiation’ comes about not through Pollefeyt’s ‘mediations’ but by people repenting of their sins, being baptized into Christ, and receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit. Pollefeyt asserts that God reveals himself through certain ‘mediations,’ but exactly how God does this remains unclear.

Presence

The question of what Pollefeyt means by immanence leads to what he means by presence. Horner thinks that I am ‘probably right’ that Pollefeyt does not explain what he means by presence but takes issue with my application of Lieven Boeve’s understanding of it to Pollefeyt, claiming that they are too theologically different to make this a valid solution. ²⁸ I maintain that the difference is not that great. Pollefeyt draws extensively on Boeve’s theology, both terminologically and conceptually. Horner’s solution to Pollefeyt’s ambiguity is that what he means by presence can be worked out by considering ‘why “literal believers” might have a problem when they think about how God is with them.’ ²⁹ However, this is not satisfactory for two reasons. First, Horner assumes that she correctly understands what so-called literalist believers mean by presence. Second, it assumes that there are only two possible meanings of presence. In lieu of any definition of presence by Pollefeyt, Horner provides her own: ‘Philosophically, presence is the coincidence of being and meaning that occurs in our daily encounter with objects. In this sense, presence occurs when what is coincides with what is meant.’ ³⁰ There are two problems with this definition. First, it refers to the presence of an object. But is this the way to know God? Second, it can be understood in more than one way. From a metaphysical perspective it can be taken to mean that presence is the coincidence of being and intelligibility. ³¹ However, given that Horner in her own theologizing draws extensively on the philosophy of Jean-Luc Marion, I will interpret it in an a-metaphysical phenomenological way. ³² For Marion, God is present to one’s consciousness. For example, when it comes to his Eucharistic presence, it is in one’s remembering of the past, anticipation of the future, and momentary conscious encounter in the present. ³³ One question this raises is how God can be immanent vis-à-vis non-conscious and unconscious beings.

The term ‘immanence’ is derived from the Latin verb immanere, which means to dwell in or remain. Thus, immanence refers to a particular kind of presence, a presence that is within something in more than a transitory way. It is fine to speak of the philosophical meaning of presence, but what is the theological meaning of this kind of presence? Theologically, it refers to the indwelling of God per se, or the indwelling of the persons of the Trinity. The God who is transcendent, that is, beyond the senses, begins to dwell, both as one and three, in a person. Can we further define what kind of presence this is? It is not a physical presence because God is not material. So how is spirit present anywhere? The principle is that spirit is where spirit acts. In this sense, for a human being, since the soul is the form of the body, making the body be a body, rather than saying a human being is an embodied soul we could say that a human being is an ensouled body. The body is ‘in’ the soul. We can say that God is present in all creation since he acts to keep all creation in existence. Yet we could also say that all creation is in God ‘in whom we live and move and have our being’ (Acts 17:28). If God is present in all he has created how is his presence in Christians different? It is different in Christians in the way that he acts beyond just keeping them in existence. We should not think of the divine persons coming into human beings from ‘outside,’ even though it is usually described in this way, but as acting in them in a new way. In Pollefeyt’s terms we could call it a ‘transcendent immanence,’ since it is an active interior presence of God that, being interior, is not accessible to the five senses, but of which we can still be aware. Or as Thomas Aquinas puts it, ‘God is in all things by his power, inasmuch as all things are subject to his power; he is by his presence in all things, as all things are bare and open to his eyes; he is in all things by his essence, inasmuch as he is present to all as the cause of their being.’ ³⁴ Moreover, ‘he is said to be present more familiarly in some by grace.’ ³⁵

This last kind of presence is referred to frequently in the New Testament. So, in John’s Gospel Jesus tells the Apostles that the Holy Spirit is with them (present tense) and will be in them (future tense) (cf. Jn 14:17). The Holy Spirit must be with the Apostles before his outpouring otherwise they would be unable to believe in Jesus. But when Jesus pours out the Holy Spirit upon them the Spirit ‘remains’ with them as he does with Jesus (cf. Jn 1:32) and begins to act in them in a new way. The Spirit does not just dwell in them in a passive or static way but is dynamically active in them.

The gift of the Holy Spirit enables us to experience of God’s love being poured into our hearts (cf. Rom 5:5). He is the Spirit of sonship, enabling us to cry out, ‘Abba, Father’ (cf. Rom 8:10; Gal 4:6). He bears witness to us that we are children of God (cf. Rom 8:16). It is only through the Spirit that we can confess that ‘Jesus is Lord’ (cf. 1 Cor 12:3). Our minds are renewed by the Spirit, giving us the mind of Christ (cf. Rom 8:5 and 12:2; 1 Cor 2:15–16; Eph 4:23). We are guided by the Spirit into all truth (Jn 16:3). We can worship God in the Spirit (cf. Eph 6:18; Phil 3:3; Jude 1:20). The Spirit enables us to pray as we ought (cf. Rom 8:26–27). He is a guarantee in our hearts who convinces us of the truth of the Gospel and enables us to know that God is dwelling in us (cf. 2 Cor 1:22 and 5:5; 1 Thes 1:5; 1 John 3:24, 4:13 and 5:7–8). He grants spiritual gifts to us to build up the Body of Christ (cf. 1 Cor 12:1–13). Through him we can understand ‘spiritual truths,’ and the gifts that God has bestowed upon us (cf. 1 Cor 2:12–15; Eph 1:17; Heb 6:4). The Spirit works miracles among us (cf. 1 Cor 2:4; Gal 3:5; Heb 2:4). We are led by the Spirit and walk in the Spirit (cf. Rom 8:14; Gal 5:16–18). In the power of the Holy Spirit, we can put to death the deeds of the flesh (cf. Rom 8:2–15; Gal 5:5–25). If we do so we will bear the fruit of the Spirit; love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (cf. Gal 6:22; Rom 12:11 and 15:13; 1 Thes 1:6; 2 Tim 1:7).

Whenever the term ‘Christ’ is used the Holy Spirit is implied. There is no Christ without the Holy Spirit. It is through the Spirit that the secret and hidden wisdom of God is revealed to us (1 Cor 2:7–10). What those who crucified Christ did not know, ‘What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him, God has revealed to us through the Spirit’ (1 Cor 2:9–10). The Spirit reveals what Jesus calls the ‘mysteries of the Kingdom of God’ (cf. Matt 13:11, Mk 4:11; Lk 8:10) and Paul calls the ‘mystery of Christ’ (cf. Eph 3:4; Col 2:2, 4:3). And not only of Christ, but of Christ in us (cf. Col 1:27), of God’s will to unite all things in Christ (cf. Eph 1:9–10), of the Gospel (cf. Eph 6:19), of faith (cf. 1 Tim 3:9), of our godliness (cf. 1 Tim 3:16), of marriage (cf. Eph 5:32), of lawlessness (cf. 2 Thes 2:7), of the resurrection on the last day (cf. 1 Cor 15:51–52), and of the hardening of a part of Israel against the Gospel (cf. Rom 11:25). Things that unaided human reason could never uncover have now been unveiled to us in the Spirit. Not only have they been revealed to us, but with this unveiling the Spirit also gives us the mind of Christ so that we can understand what has been revealed. Christ is in us, and we are in Christ, so now we ‘have all the riches of assured understanding and the knowledge of God’s mystery, of Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge’ (Col 2:2–3). And we do not just have wisdom, for since Christ is the wisdom of God (cf. 1 Cor 1:24), we who have ‘become’ Christ (cf. Gal 2:20) have now ‘become’ the wisdom of God. Thus, ‘He [God] is the source of [our] life in Christ Jesus, whom God made our wisdom’ (1 Cor 1:30).

Horner reminds us that in this life we cannot see God face to face. She emphasizes the need for ‘epistemological modesty.’ ³⁶ But this ‘modesty’ can be understood in different ways. Aquinas reminds us that we do not know what God is, only what God is not, but that we can know him through our knowledge of his creatures. ³⁷ We come to know God not through knowing him as cause but through knowing his effects. Herein lies the difference between my position and that of ‘recontextualists’ (Pollefeyt, Boeve, and Horner). They hold that even our knowledge of his effects is uncertain. But this is not what St Paul says. He reminds the Corinthians that one reason the Holy Spirit has been given to them is so that they will understand, not God, but the gifts bestowed on them by God (cf. 1 Cor 2:12). In saying this I do not think that he is just referring to the charisms that he will discuss later in the same letter. Rather, through the gift, the Holy Spirit, we come to understand all the gifts that God has given us: Christ himself, the gift of eternal life, that is, sanctifying grace, the infused theological and moral virtues, the gifts of the Holy Spirit which perfect these virtues, ³⁸ the fruit of the Holy Spirit which comes from putting to death the works of the flesh, the graces by which we are able to live the Beatitudes, and the nature of the charisms. As ‘spiritual people’ we do not know the mind of the Lord, that is, God, but we do have the mind of Christ (cf. 1 Cor 2:16). We do not have a ‘God’s-eye view,’ but we do have a ‘Christ’s-eye view.’ ³⁹ Our human minds are ‘christified.’ We are transformed by their renewal so that we may demonstrate, not God, but ‘what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect’ (Rom 12:2). We humanly understand the things of God, but in a ‘spiritualized’ way.

Another way of putting this is that because Christ is in us, when we look at ourselves and others ‘in the Spirit,’ we can see Christ. Here Levinas does have something to say to us. In a passage quoted by Horner he says:

I cannot describe the relation to God without speaking of my concern for the other. When I speak to a Christian, I always quote Matthew 25: the relation to God is presented there as a relation to another person. It is not a metaphor: in the other, there is a real presence of God. In my relation with the other, I hear the Word of God. It is not a metaphor; it is not only extremely important, it is literally true. I am not saying that the other is God, but that in his or her Face I hear the Word of God. ⁴⁰

Levinas says ‘hear,’ not ‘see,’ because the Word of God of which he speaks is disembodied, not incarnate. Horner comments that ‘Levinas’ chief imperative is to insist on the “absolute otherness” or “alterity” of the other person, such that it is God who passes in the Other’s face.’ ⁴¹ But Levinas’s deficiency is not that he does not know and believe in God, ⁴² but that he does not know and believe in Christ.

St Paul presents us with a different picture. In 1 Corinthians we find the famous passage, ‘For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully, even as I have been fully understood’ (1 Cor 13:12). What does one see in a mirror other than one’s own reflection? If Christians look within themselves they can see the face of Christ. If they look at their brothers and sisters in Christ, they can see the face of Christ. And in a most mysterious way, if they look in the face of those who suffer, they can see the face of Christ. Even more, although Moses cannot see the face of God, God can see the face of Moses. He says to Moses, ‘I know you by name’ (Ex 33:17). The Christ who looks out from our own face and the face of others ‘knows us by name,’ and in seeing his face, we see the face of the Father (cf. Jn 14:9). Our God is not absolute otherness. We see him in the face of Christ. Furthermore, while our appearance does change, it is not in the way that the recontextualists might suppose. The mirror into which we look is not a like a ‘fun house’ mirror which constantly distorts our image. Rather, ‘we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord [in our own faces and the faces of others], are being changed from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit’ (2 Cor 3:18). And a little later Paul says, ‘For it is God who said, “Let light shine in darkness,” who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ’ (2 Cor 4:6).

How is all this different from the recontextualist understanding of presence? It is different in three ways. First, God is present to our consciousness, but it is a new consciousness to which he is present. Second, it is a triune rather than a monotheistic presence. Third, it is a radically active and transforming presence rather than the relatively passive presence of the objectified God of the recontextualists.

Symbol

Before investigating Pollefeyt’s understanding of symbol it will be helpful to outline its biblical meaning and how it has been used by the Church. The Greek noun symbolon is not found in the New Testament. The closest we get to it is the verb symballousa, which in its intransitive sense means to ‘meet.’ This verb occurs only in Lucan writings, and in every instance, it has a ‘dialogic’ meaning, that is, someone is brought together with someone else. ⁴³ In everyday Greek symbolon originally meant a physical object that could be passed between people to indicate identity or agreement. The word came to mean a token or a sign by which one could infer something about the bearer. Etymologically it comes from the Greek terms ‘together’ and ‘to throw or cast.’ The meaning of the noun explains how Cyprian of Carthage came to use it to indicate the Apostles’ Creed. The Creed was a ‘mark’ that distinguished Christians from non-Christians. From there it became the way to refer to the Nicene Creed, the Symbol of Faith which ‘brings together’ what Christians believe.

It was necessary to investigate what Pollefeyt means by immanence and presence first in order to understand what he means by ‘symbol.’ In defending this understanding Horner relies on Avery Dulles’s definition of symbol as a kind of sign that points to a reality ‘which cannot be precisely described or defined.’ ⁴⁴ But she does not draw attention to the next clause where Dulles says that this reality ‘is not know-able, at least with the same richness and power, except in and through the symbol.’ ⁴⁵ Symbols enhance our ability to know about God. On this point Horner also refers us to chapter nine of Dulles’s Models of Revelation. ⁴⁶ She should have continued into chapter ten where Dulles writes, ‘If ultimate reality is essentially mysterious, its true character will be better available through symbol than through conceptual and propositional discourse alone.’ ⁴⁷ Dulles agrees with Joseph Ratzinger’s understanding of ‘symbolic theology.’ ⁴⁸ If we look at Ratzinger’s use of ‘symbol,’ in the context of a discussion about maternal images of God in Scripture, he states that, ‘The image language of the body furnishes us . . . with a deeper understanding of God’s disposition toward man than any conceptual language could.’ ⁴⁹ As Anthony Sciglitano explains:

This does not mean that they turn to an irrationalist form of theology, but rather that human reason needs to be regulated by the symbolic world of Scripture and Christian worship, within which a deeper reason is disclosed that can heal and perfect distortions of inadequate human reason. This divine reason, however, cannot be reduced to human propositions and univocal statements; rather, it presents itself in the paradoxical joinings of spirit and matter, meaning and expression that can disclose a reality that transcends human rationality, yet does not destroy it. ⁵⁰

Divine reason transcends human rationality, but it does not destroy it. Horner presents us with an either/or dichotomy between symbolic and conceptual. Dulles and Ratzinger present us with a both/and synthesis. They do not mean that no conceptual description or definition is possible. Conceptual language furnishes us with real understanding, but symbolic language gives us a deeper one.

For Dulles, a symbol does not ‘point beyond itself to the inexpressible.’ ⁵¹ Rather, it points back to what has been expressed historically or it points beyond itself to something that is understood more deeply. Symbols do not ‘evoke what is beyond presentation, and thus, beyond re-presentation.’ ⁵² Instead, ‘the central mysteries of Christian faith derive much of their symbolic value from their historical reality.’ ⁵³ It is in this sense that one can interpret the understanding of revelation in Dei Verbum in terms of Dulles’s theology of symbol. Although the document does not use the term ‘symbol,’ Dulles brings the term to his analysis of its theology of revelation in its statement that, ‘Jesus Christ is the Mediator and at the same time the fullness of all revelation.’ ⁵⁴ Christ is the symbol of God because, quoting Karl Rahner, he ‘is at once God himself as communicated, and human acceptance of the communication, and the final historical manifestation of this communication and acceptance.’ ⁵⁵ Dulles continues by saying that, ‘In Christ, therefore, the manifestation and that which is manifested ontologically coincide. The man Jesus Christ is both symbol and the incarnation of the eternal Logos, who communicates himself by becoming fully human without ceasing to be divine.’ ⁵⁶

We have seen that Dei Verbum does not use the term ‘symbol.’ However, it is used in other Conciliar documents. The term ‘symbol’ or ‘symbolize’ is used most often in Lumen Gentium. There the blood and water which flowed from the side of a crucified Jesus symbolizes the inauguration and growth of the Church, the Church as the Temple of God on earth is symbolized by churches built out of stone, local churches under episcopal ministry symbolize the unity of the Mystical Body, and each layperson is a symbol of the living God. ⁵⁷ In Apostolicam Actuositatem, the laity acting organically symbolize the unity of the Church. ⁵⁸ And in Perfectae Caritatis, chastity ‘for the sake of the kingdom’ symbolizes ‘the heavenly goods.’ ⁵⁹ In all these instances the term is used in a typological way. It does not refer to something completely unknown but makes known the things of God in a fuller way.

However, in the remaining instances something more is going on. In Sacrosanctum Consilium works of art are referred to as signs and symbols of the supernatural world, which raises the question of what the difference between a sign and a symbol is. ⁶⁰ In Gaudium et Spes we are told that the ‘earthly peace which arises from love of neighbor symbolizes and results from the peace of Christ which radiates from God the Father.’ ⁶¹ Here two things are going on. One thing both symbolizes something else and is an effect of that something else. In Lumen Gentium bishops are ‘symbols’ of Christ who act in his person, that is, they are acting symbols. ⁶² In Presbyterorum Ordinis Baptism is referred to as both a ‘symbol and gift’ of the calling and the grace to be a Christian. ⁶³ In Lumen Gentium it is described as the sacred rite by which ‘a oneness with Christ’s death and resurrection is both symbolized and brought about.’ ⁶⁴ These two portrayals of Baptism are reminiscent of the statement that ‘the Church is in Christ like a sacrament or as a sign and instrument both of a very closely knit union with God and of the unity of the whole human race.’ ⁶⁵

When I called the Eucharist a symbol, ⁶⁶ I was using the term in its Rahnerian and Ratzingerian sense, which also happens to be the sense in which Dulles uses it. It is also the sense in which both Baptism and the Church are described in Lumen Gentium and Presbyterorum Ordinis. So, what I mean by symbol and what Pollefeyt means are radically at odds. According to Horner, for Pollefeyt, a symbol points beyond itself to the inexpressible. It evokes what is beyond presentation and therefore re-presentation. This is not what I mean by ‘sacramental’ language. ⁶⁷ Pollefeyt’s meaning is neither literal nor sacramental. Therefore, it must be metaphorical in some way. But it does not fall within the bounds of a normal metaphor. As Horner correctly points out, a metaphor is ‘a figure of speech in which a name or descriptive word or phrase is transferred to an object or action different from, but analogous to, that to which it is literally applicable,’ ⁶⁸ although she also recognizes that the Oxford English Dictionary does allow for a metaphor sometimes using a symbol. ⁶⁹ For a metaphor to work at least one person must know both of its ‘terms.’ Consider what may be the most famous metaphor in the English language: ‘what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Juliet is the sun.’ If a member of the audience has never fallen in love with a beautiful young woman, they will get an idea of what it feels like from these words. And those who have so fallen will remember what it feels like. Metaphors are often pedagogical, but for them to succeed at least the author of the metaphor must understand both of its terms. When Jesus gives us metaphors of the Kingdom of God, they can only be valid if he knows what the Kingdom of God is. What Pollefeyt is saying is that the symbols he is using refer to something that he does not know. So, we could say that Pollefeyt’s symbols are failed metaphors. In essence, his via media between what he calls literalism and relativism is scepticism. ⁷⁰

Recontextualisation

The most astonishing claim made by the recontextualists is that what they are doing has been done throughout the whole history of the Church. Horner identifies recontextualization with ‘the ancient theological method’ now called the development of doctrine; ⁷¹ Pollefeyt sees it as happening ‘since the dawn of Christianity’; ⁷² Boeve claims that statements made by the Council of Chalcedon are actually contextually determined metaphorical statements which need to be recontexualized in a new metaphor. ⁷³ The great puzzle is, how can they believe that there is no radical difference between recontextualizing and what Newman called the development of doctrine? All the examples of this supposed recontextualization that Horner gives—Paul and the Athenians’ unknown God, John the Evangelist’s and Justin Martyr’s use of the language of the Logos, the teaching of Nicaea on homoousious, and Aquinas’s use of Aristotle—are pre-Kantian. ⁷⁴ In other words, their metaphysics determined their epistemology, whereas, for the recontextualists, their epistemology determines their rejection of metaphysics.

The development of doctrine does not unfold by way of merely changing the epistemological template. Rather, through a process which is both apophatic and cataphatic, a greater precision in what the Church believes, and a greater exclusion of what she does not believe, is reached. Let us look at a few examples. The term homoousios is both apophatic and cataphatic. Cataphatically, it tells us that the Father and the Son are of the same ousia, but apophatically it does not tell us what that ousia is. It apophatically excludes homoiousios, homoios, heteroousios, and anomoios. After the term was introduced, it had to be clarified further to eliminate both tri-theistic and modalistic interpretations. Before 1854 a Catholic could believe, with Aquinas, that Mary was not conceived without sin. Afterwards they could not. A Catholic can still choose between a Thomist or Molinist understanding of predestination. It is possible that in the future, one, or even both, will be rejected.

Rahner is right in holding that this development of doctrine in the pilgrim Church is never final. We can make no exhaustive statements about God. ⁷⁵ But in saying this he does not mean that we can make contradictory statements about God, or that we cannot make true statements about God. Rather, we are moving from less precision and clarity to more, from less knowledge to more. This is the teaching of Dei Verbum:

This tradition which comes from the Apostles develops in the Church with the help of the Holy Spirit. For there is a growth in the understanding of the realities and the words which have been handed down. This happens through the contemplation and study made by believers, who treasure these things in their hearts (see Luke, 2:19, 51) through a penetrating understanding of the spiritual realities which they experience, and through the preaching of those who have received through Episcopal succession the sure gift of truth. For as the centuries succeed one another, the Church constantly moves forward toward the fullness of divine truth until the words of God reach their complete fulfillment in her. ⁷⁶

In genuine development of doctrine, we are moving forward towards the fullness of divine truth. But with the recontextualists something entirely different is going on. Horner claims that recontextualization ‘generates further and richer insights.’ ⁷⁷ It does not. Instead, it generates contradictions. We do not move from ambiguity to clarity, from imprecision to precision, but from one supposed uncertainty to a different uncertainty. The application of ‘critical’ reason means that things we used to believe, whether with the certainty of literal belief or the uncertainty of post-critical belief, can no longer be believed, and that what we now believe is also uncertain. As Pollefeyt says, ‘Post-critical faith is a continuous “searching for” religious significance and meaning without ever finding a final, absolute, established, and certain answer.’ ⁷⁸ ‘Final,’ ‘absolute,’ and ‘established’ are not where recontextualization differs from development of doctrine. The difference lies with ‘certain.’

‘Certainty’ is the great bug bear of the recontextualists. What do we mean by certainty? If I put sodium and chlorine together, I am certain that I will get salt. I am also certain that my wife loves me. Certainty is based on knowledge, in these cases, knowledge arrived at inductively. I get salt every time. I have so many proofs of my wife’s love that I cannot doubt it. I am also certain that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, the Word made flesh, and much more about him. This certainty, too, is based on knowledge. From where does this knowledge come? It comes from the simultaneous witness of the Holy Spirit, through the preaching of the Gospel by the Church, and in our own hearts. When Peter proclaimed the truth of the Gospel to the crowd that gathered around the apostles at Pentecost many were ‘pierced through’ to the heart and were baptized (cf. Acts 2:37–41). Indeed, this certainty is powerful. It is ‘conviction’ (cf. 1 Thes 1:5). Unless he meets with implacable resistance (cf. Acts 7:51) the Holy Spirit always comes ‘with victory.’

Interruption

Horner takes issue with my claim that, for Boeve, ‘interruption’ replaces Christ as the Mediator. In response she quotes Boeve to the effect that ‘The Christian narrative tradition does not simply tell a story about the relationship between God and humanity, its primary aim is to confess that God has definitely revealed Godself in a specific human person, Jesus of Nazareth, Jesus the Christ.’ ⁷⁹ She follows this with the quotation that, ‘It should become clear . . . that, for believers, Jesus is the very paradigm of the open narrative. . . . [T]he evangelists go so far as to present Jesus as God’s interrupter, interrupting closed narratives on behalf of God.’ ⁸⁰ The issue is: what does Boeve think we can know about this Jesus the Christ? And what does ‘interruption’ mean?

For Boeve, definite statements about Christ are a problem. I will use the example of the dogma of the Incarnation. Here Boeve takes his cue from Jean-François Lyotard. According to Boeve, for Lyotard, the doctrine of the Incarnation is the crux of the whole Christian problem. Because of their belief in the Incarnation, for Christians, ‘grace’ has already happened, and this opens an expectation of a new coming in the Parousia. The unpresentable has been definitively presented, the unnameable named. ⁸¹ Christians are no longer waiting for grace whereas the Jews are. ⁸² For Boeve, the story of the Incarnation in the Christian meta-narrative is what makes it so powerfully hegemonic. ⁸³ Upon Lyotard he builds the point that it is the dogma of the Incarnation that, above all, turns the Christian narrative into a master narrative, one that ‘definitely names and thus determines the event.’ ⁸⁴ For him, one must ‘defuse’ the power of this definite doctrine. Boeve neither affirms nor denies the doctrine. He is a kind of agnostic Christian. He implicitly characterizes his position as one of humility as opposed to ‘the vanity of individuals or haughtiness of the community’ who presume to make definite statements about God. ⁸⁵ Also, he seems to agree with Lyotard that the Jewish narrative is qualitatively more ‘open’ than the Christian, which leaves me wondering why he does not become a Jew. ⁸⁶

What does Boeve mean by calling Jesus God’s interrupter? For Boeve, God interrupts us by interrupting our closed narratives. So, God interrupts the Christian narrative to prevent it becoming or remaining hegemonic. Where does Jesus come into this? His own interruption remains in the past. He interrupts us in the present by giving us an example. Just as he interrupted the prevailing Jewish narrative about God, so we are to imitate his method of interruption. Rather than proclaiming the Gospel, we are to respect ‘the very otherness of the other . . . questioning and challenging the other, criticizing him or her where he or she tends to become hegemonic.’ ⁸⁷

Boeve’s position is like that of Edward Schillebeeckx, who says that the necessary criticism of the Church and society must come via a new understanding of Jesus of Nazareth and the Kingdom of God. ⁸⁸ In Schillebeeckx’s understanding of theology one of his ‘norms’ is what he calls the criterion of the proportional norm. He defines this as ‘a certain proportion in which subsequent expressions (in their different contexts) find themselves with regard to the intentionality of faith as inwardly determined by the mystery of Christ.’ ⁸⁹ According to Erik Borgman this means that ‘what is normative, from the perspective of faith, are not Jesus’ words and actions but their relationship between the words and the deeds of Jesus on the one hand, and their context on the other. Believers here and now are not asked to imitate what Jesus said or did, rather they are to relate to their context as Jesus related to his.’ ⁹⁰ The difference for the recontextualizers is that the context keeps changing. However, the reality is that Jesus is an effective mediator not just because of his paschal mystery, but because he gives us koinonia in that mystery through the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Hermeneutics

In her response to my critique of Pollefeyt’s understanding of ‘interpretation’ as monologic, Horner argues that the Project’s approach to Sacred Scripture is, in fact, dialogic. ⁹¹ She appeals to its promotion of lectio divina in classrooms, and repeats a statement by Pollefeyt that ‘the students and the adults should be able to recognize and integrate biblical interpretation at school in personal and communal prayers as well as in the liturgy and sacramental celebrations.’ ⁹² But the practice of lectio divina is not the issue. It is what Pollefeyt means by ‘interpretation.’ What kind of interpretation does he foresee taking place in lectio divina? As I said, Pollefeyt actually writes of ‘deciphering’ the Bible. ⁹³ The symbols must be continually deciphered and re-deciphered.

In response to my argument that Pollefeyt’s ‘hermeneutical process’ cannot guarantee that ‘different Catholics will not arrive at contradictory reinterpretations of “faith contents”,’ ⁹⁴ Horner repeats Pollefeyt’s statement that ‘hermeneutics is not the same as relativism because a certain number of rules binds the hermeneutic interpretation.’ ⁹⁵ What I find revealing is that Horner, at this point, does not just tell us what these rules are. There are four of them, but it is the second that is immediately relevant to the issue.

[T]he content of the faith is rendered in an authentic, unabridged and unadulterated way (i.e.: Biblically interpreted, against the background of the history of the tradition, with respect for human experience today, taking into account recent scientific insights, in dialogue with the sensus fidelium (the faith of the community) and (for Catholics) loyal to the concerns of the magisterium). ⁹⁶

This sounds good, so it is surprising that Horner does not quote it. It comes down to how Pollefeyt understands the relationship between six things: how the Bible is to be interpreted vis-à-vis its relationship with the history of the tradition, with respect of contemporary human experience, with recent scientific insights, with the sensus fidelium, and with the role of the magisterium. How this is seen as working out in practice is not explained.

However, we can get some idea of how Horner sees it working out if we continue reading. She recasts the Catholic Church in the form of the Anglican, appealing to the existence of a ‘plurality of views’: in parishes, in Vatican documents, in the opposition of some to Pope Francis, in the opposition between ‘classical’ and ‘historical’ consciousness, in synodality, and in theological discourse. ⁹⁷ Supposedly this all shows that, ‘There should not arise competing Catholic identities as a result, but a unity-in-difference that is founded on the creeds—which are themselves multiple. The clearest defence of plurality in the Church is the plurality within God as Triune.’ ⁹⁸ I am astonished by these taxonomic errors. It is as though any real contradiction is impossible. Everyone is right except those who hold to definite doctrines. Can she really believe that what she calls unity-in-difference is based on the Apostles’, Nicene-Constantinopolitan, Chalcedon, and Athanasian creeds not being identical? Although they are not identical, they are not contradictory. In fact, the Symbol of Chalcedon clarifies and expands upon that of Constantinople I just as that Symbol does the same for the Symbol of Nicaea. Furthermore, the equation of ecclesial and theological plurality with Trinitarian plurality, putting a plurality of views on a par with a plurality of persons, suggests a tri-theistic understanding of the Trinity.

Evangelization

Catholic schools have not been set up to evangelize, but to educate. The education offered includes Religious Education. However, evangelization can take place in a Catholic school. Indeed, it can and should take place within any Catholic institution, be it a school, hospital, aged care home, hospice, and so on. Evangelization is not an ‘occasional’ ministry that only takes place in some settings but not others. It is a universal mission that can take place with anyone, anywhere, at any time.

The problem is that Horner misunderstands what I mean by evangelization. To begin with, she misinterprets my statement that ‘although a dialogue school would supposedly promote a preferential option for the Catholic faith, the Project never makes clear why we should believe our narrative rather than someone else’s.’ ⁹⁹ She seems to think that I am unaware of the fact the many of the staff and students in Catholic schools are not Catholic, and that I presume ‘that everyone in a Catholic school will simply recognize and accept Christianity’s truth claim.’ ¹⁰⁰ I presume no such thing. On the contrary, my ‘we’ was a reference to Catholics in general. As someone who taught religious education for seven years in an Australian Catholic high school, and has sent his children to diocesan Catholic schools, I am aware of the contemporary situation in them. My statement pertained to the separation of truth from certainty. How can one seriously share one’s faith in Christ if one is not certain about what one believes about him? If I cannot be certain about what I believe, if what I believe keeps changing, what kind of fruitful dialogue can I enter with anyone? And why do Pollefeyt and Horner think that our non-Catholic interlocutors in Catholic schools will also be uncertain about their beliefs? In my experience, Muslims, Orthodox Jews, and atheists tend to be clear about their religious beliefs. It is not just Catholics who must be convinced to recontextualize, but everyone else as well. What the recontextualists advocate is a kind of unilateral epistemological disarmament.

Horner diplomatically disagrees with the NSW and ACT bishops’ statement about Catholic schools becoming centres of new evangelization, ¹⁰¹ but appears to not to understand what this new evangelization is. She seems to think that I am advocating for some kind of indoctrination, namely ‘just telling people what they should believe.’ ¹⁰² But evangelization is not the same as catechizing or teaching religious education. Horner is equating the kerygma of the Gospel with catechesis or religious education. Furthermore, ‘proclaiming the kerygma’ does not mean converting people. I cannot convert anyone—that is the task of the Holy Spirit.

The kerygma can be broken down into seven fundamental elements. (1) God loves you and has a plan for your life. (2) Sin separates you from God. (3) Jesus Christ died and rose again to save you. (4) Repent and believe in the Good News. (5) Be baptized and receive the Holy Spirit. (6) Abide in Christ and his Body the Church. (7) Go and make disciples. The person who ‘proclaims the kerygma’ does so as a witness, not as one who catechizes, but as one who testifies to what has happened to him or her. Like the former demoniac who had lived in the tombs they are commanded to, ‘Go home to your friends, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you’ (Mk 5:19).

Horner does not make the distinction that Pope Francis makes between proselytizing and evangelizing. ¹⁰³ She thinks I am advocating for the former. This is the attempt to evangelize without first engaging in a dialogue which involves genuine listening to the other. It is a ‘pelagian’ attempt to convince the other of the truth of the Gospel. Christians must witness to the Gospel in both deed and word, but it is the Holy Spirit who convinces the observer and hearer of its truth. When asked by a young woman if she had to get her non-church going friends to go to church, Francis replied:

‘Do I have to convince these friends . . . of my faith? What must I say to convince them?’ Listen, the last thing you must do is to ‘speak.’ You have to live as a Christian, like a Christian: convinced, forgiven, and on a path. It is not licit to convince them of your faith; proselytism is the strongest poison against the ecumenical path. You must give testimony to your Christian life; testimony will unsettle the hearts of those who see you. And from this unsettling grows one question: but why does this man or this woman live like that? And that prepares the ground for the Holy Spirit. Because it is the Holy Spirit that works in the heart. He does what needs to be done: but He needs to speak, not you. Grace is a gift, and the Holy Spirit is the gift of God from whence comes grace and the gift that Jesus has sent us by His passion and resurrection. It will be the Holy Spirit that moves the heart with your testimony—that is the way you ask—and regarding that you can tell the ‘why,’ with much thoughtfulness. But without wanting to convince. ¹⁰⁴

By ‘testimony’ Francis does not just mean the testimony of how one lives. He is not telling Christians that they should never explicitly share the Gospel about Jesus Christ, but rather advising them on when, why, and how they should speak. Only after we listen to the other,

is it possible to bring up God’s word, perhaps by reading a Bible verse or relating a story, but always keeping in mind the fundamental message: the personal love of God who became man, who gave himself up for us, who is living and who offers us his salvation and his friendship. This message has to be shared humbly as a testimony on the part of one who is always willing to learn, in the awareness that the message is so rich and so deep that it always exceeds our grasp. At times the message can be presented directly, at times by way of a personal witness or gesture, or in a way which the Holy Spirit may suggest in that particular situation. If it seems prudent and if the circumstances are right, this fraternal and missionary encounter could end with a brief prayer related to the concerns which the person may have expressed. In this way they will have an experience of being listened to and understood; they will know that their particular situation has been placed before God, and that God’s word really speaks to their lives. ¹⁰⁵

This kind of encounter can take place in a religious education class. But it can take place in any class, or in the staff room, or at a staff function, or on the playground. Indeed, it is most likely to take place in a one-to-one situation, even between students. If Horner better understood my example of an evangelizing school, she would have realized that what I propose is a school environment that does not just facilitate the witness of teachers to students, but one that makes peer evangelization possible. ¹⁰⁶ The most effective evangelization is like-to-like evangelization.

The recontextualists think that any kind of overt evangelization is no longer possible. This is because they look at evangelization through a correlationist lens. Correlational theology is their unexamined premise. Since for them, in a postmodern context, correlational theology is no longer possible, in the face of postmodern secularism attempts to evangelize only make things worse. In a correlational environment evangelization was still possible, but that environment no longer exists. ¹⁰⁷ So Horner says that ‘Pollefeyt and Bouwens (and Boeve) suggest that the only viable possibility in the current cultural situation in the modern West is Recontextualization,’ ¹⁰⁸ and that the Project has demonstrated that ‘students and staff increasingly reject attempts at being evangelized at school and show increasingly less resistance to Secularization as an identity option.’ ¹⁰⁹ The recontextualists are unable to comprehend how overt evangelization can still take place in a postmodern environment. Students and staff are not rejecting attempts to evangelize them. If they are rejecting anything it is the attempt to proselytize them. Evangelization has not been tried in Catholic schools and found wanting. Rather, it has scarcely been tried at all.

Thus, it seems that the recontextualists have things back to front. It is not Christians that should be trying or not trying to correlate their faith to secular ideas. Rather, we should be taking the initiative and be seeking, not correlation with abstract ideas, but cooperation with concrete people. We should be inviting ‘people of good will’ to cooperate with us. This could be called the praxis of a co-operational theology. In fact, our theology must be double-edged. On one side it must be co-operational and on the other side confrontational, since Christ is, always has been, and will be until the Parousia, ‘a sign that is spoken against’ (Lk 2:34).

Unchallenged Criticisms

For me the most interesting aspect of Horner’s article is what she does not attempt to rebut. The two main criticisms that go unanswered are those which question Pollefeyt’s understanding of faith and reason. When it comes to faith, Pollefeyt treats it as an acquired virtue rather than an infused theological one. It is ‘acquired through the active, creative, and interpretative handling of these mediations [stories, rituals, traditions, institutions, churches, ministries, communities, social organizations, and so forth.]’ ¹¹⁰ Nor does Horner attempt to rebut my criticism about the absence of intellectus in Pollefeyt’s understanding of reason. His ‘critical’ reason is all ratio. ¹¹¹

A Fundamental Theological Lacuna

It is my conviction that a fundamental theological flaw in the Enhancing Catholic School Identity Project is the absence of pneumatology. This absence is especially evident in its understanding of immanence and presence, but it pervades every aspect of it. Furthermore, it is not just that there is no theology of the Holy Spirit. There is also no theologizing in the Holy Spirit. This deficiency in both content and method cannot fail to deform every other aspect of its theology; not only its theology of revelation, but also aspects such as its Christology, trinitarian theology, ecclesiology, theological anthropology, theology of grace, including the theology of the infused theological virtues and the gifts of the Holy Spirit which perfect them, sacramental theology, and missiology. The result is more of an absent theology than an apophatic one. Because of this there is no theological healing of the distortions within the philosophies upon which the recontextualists rely.

Conclusion

My conviction is that the so-called theology that grounds the Enhancing Catholic School Identity Project is not theology at all, but something else. In Boeve’s case, I would classify it as essentially a philosophy of language. In any case, it is certainly anti-metaphysical. In its engagement with philosophy the direction of travel is always one way. Postmodern scepticism determines theological results, but theological insights do not reconfigure philosophical premises. Furthermore, although Dei Verbum says that Sacred Scripture is the soul of sacred theology, ¹¹² in my reading of the work of the recontextualists, I do not find much actual interest shown in what is written in Sacred Scripture, except when they think it will provide them with some grist for their epistemological mill. This being so, their ersatz theology could be categorized as ‘soulless,’ or ‘lifeless.’ Hence, it cannot be life-giving. It claims to be an apophatic theology, but it is essentially sceptical. God is totally Other, so we cannot make any certain statements about him. Definite doctrine must be avoided. Rather, we must continually recontextualize what we believe about God. Faith is treated as a humanly acquired virtue rather than a theological virtue that is a gift of the Holy Spirit. Finally, the architects of the Project hold that it is no longer possible to evangelize in a post-modern society. If we try to evangelize it means that we think we know the truth, but this is what they call hegemonic. To say that we have the truth means that others do not, and that we will seek to impose our truth on them.