The Contribution of Francis A. Sullivan,SJ to a Deeper Understanding of Charisms in the Church

Abstract

Francis A. Sullivan, SJ made a number of significant contributions to the Catholic theology of charism. Through an accepted emendation, he helped write Lumen Gentium 12; he investigated the new movement of “Catholic Pentecostals” for the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith; he later produced a number of related academic works exploring the nature of the charisms and their role in ecclesiology. This article argues that Sullivan’s reading of the division in Lumen Gentium 4 between charismatic and hierarchical gifts, and how he uses this division to argue that sacramental ordained ministry should presume prior charismatic gifts, has the capacity to support a re-conceptualization of ecclesial ministry.

On the 23rd of October 2019 the earthly life of Francis Alfred Sullivan, SJ came to its end.* At the ripe old age of 97, Sullivan—known as Frank to his friends—had entered the Society of Jesus 81 years previously, and had (prior to his final retirement in 2009) taught ecclesiology for 53 of those years. Over that time he had authored 13 books (a number of which are widely cited) and more than 80 articles; he had served as the dean of the Pontifical Gregorian University for 6 years, taught or supervised several prominent theologians, and, as was read at his eulogy, “he was especially pleased that some 30 of his students from countries across the world became bishops and at least two—Americans Avery Dulles and William Levada—cardinals,” ¹ But despite this notable theological career, it seems he has not had the wide recognition it warrants. It is difficult to argue with Neil Ormerod when he writes, “[Sullivan] has been in many ways a ‘theologian’s theologian,’ someone whose work regularly appears in the bibliographies and footnotes of other theologians, but has not received much critical attention in his own right.” ² There are recent signs, however, that this has started to change. In the past ten years, a secondary literature on Sullivan’s theology has begun to appear. The first was a 2010 doctoral dissertation by Michael A. Novak entitled An Ecclesiology of Charisms in the Theology of Francis A. Sullivan. ³ Later that same year, Dermot Ryan submitted his doctoral thesis, Method to Mission: The Ecclesial Vocation of the Theologian. As exemplified in the works of Francis A. Sullivan, SJ in the context of method at the Gregorian University. ⁴ Finally, 2017 saw the publication of Michael M. Canaris’s Francis A. Sullivan, SJ and Ecclesiological Hermeneutics: An Exercise in Faithful Creativity (which had also originally been a doctoral dissertation, submitted in 2012). ⁵ This is to make no mention of the several publications and doctoral theses that engage his work while not having him as their sole focus. ⁶ One can assume that more will be forthcoming.

While there are many areas of Sullivan’s work worthy of greater engagement, it is his ecclesiological reflections on the charisms of the faithful that are the focus of this article. While, as indicated, this area has already been explored, it is my belief that there is further potential in Sullivan’s writing on this topic that Novak leaves untapped. We are, however, in complete agreement when he states, “Sullivan never developed an ecclesiology of charisms, yet there are currents within his work on charisms that move towards addressing these needs for integration, diversity, and structure.” ⁷ The constructive intent behind this article is to show that Sullivan does indeed draw out some simple but highly significant implications in his ecclesial reflections on the charisms which, if developed and taken as the point of departure for further studies, have the capacity to support a much-needed re-conceptualization of this area of debate within Catholic ecclesiology. I will do this in an initial way by focusing on the relationship between Sullivan’s theology of charism and his theology of ordination.

An overview of Francis Sullivan’s charismatic contributions ⁸

Sullivan’s ecclesiological career did not have the most auspicious of beginnings. In 1956 he had been unexpectedly assigned to teach the ecclesiology course at the Gregorian University in Rome (having originally meant to teach Patristics at Weston College back in the USA). As was then the custom, after a number of years professors would turn their course notes into a book. Accordingly, in 1962 Sullivan’s developed course notes were published as De Ecclesia. I. Quaestiones Theologiae Fundamentalis. ⁹ The book largely followed the Mystici corporis approach to the church that was standard at the time. Unfortunately, the fact that his De Ecclesia was released the same year as the opening of the Second Vatican Council meant that it was out of date almost as soon as it was published. As a largely negative review of the book by Yves Congar put it,

In the first 250 pages, we are given an apologetic De Ecclesia according to the old school formula: a demonstration of the foundation, by Christ, of a society of public law, hierarchical, structured by Petrine primacy and the college of bishops . . . The magisterium is still seen too much from a jurisdictional point of view, without its link with the sacrament of episcopal consecration being elucidated. ¹⁰

But this was soon to change. Just as the ecclesiology of the council began to take shape, Sullivan’s own theology began undergoing a similar transformation. The two would soon converge. In October 1963, during the second session of the council (while the debate concerning the charisms of the faithful was taking place ¹¹ ), Sullivan would, for the first time, turn his attention towards the charisms. Throughout the council, many of the bishops had realised that they needed theological expertise to help explain the subtleties of what was being disputed. Groups of bishops would meet (unofficially) with some regularity, and it was not uncommon for a theologian to be invited to address them on a particular point. ¹² Due to the notion of charism being a concept many of the bishops were fairly unfamiliar with, the bishops of the United States felt the need for a theologian to elucidate. On this particular occasion, Sullivan was the one invited to speak. ¹³ This was probably more due to him being an American ecclesiologist based in Rome than because of any speciality on the particular subject. As Sullivan himself recounts:

Of all things, when they came to this question of charisms of the faithful, somebody must have suggested that I might be able to tell them about it—although I had never studied the question, myself, in any depth, I must say. But it was a question somehow they thought I might be able to enlighten them to some length. So I got this invitation to speak to the bishops on that issue. And in order to give me a little background, they actually gave me the text of the draft, which was the first time—I’m quite sure—the first time I had had any of these secret documents in my hand. ¹⁴

Sullivan decided, drawing on modern biblical studies as well as the recent work of Karl Rahner and Yves Congar, ¹⁵ to present a Pauline view of charisms as graces widely distributed for the building up of the body. As he writes, “I later learned that this was also the view that Cardinal Suenens defended in a speech that he gave at the council in response to Cardinal Ruffini.” ¹⁶

However, the decision of the US bishops to invite Sullivan was to have wider implications than they would have anticipated. Having now had a chance to read the working text, and study the topic in-depth in order to deliver his presentation, an idea came to Sullivan: “along the way, you know—I suppose brash enough—I said to myself, ‘Well, now that I’ve really looked into this question, I think I could write a better paragraph than that.’” ¹⁷ This could be done, so he thought, by “making more ample use of the teaching and language of St. Paul.” ¹⁸ Sullivan was still a fairly new theologian at the time of Vatican II and so had not been called up as one of the periti. Yet his old Rector, John J. McEleney, who had been appointed Bishop of Kingston, Jamaica just before Sullivan left America to study in Rome, still maintained a close relationship with him. As Novak recounts: “At some point McEleney had said to Sullivan that if he had any ideas that [he] might be able to use during the Council to let him know.” ¹⁹ Sullivan thus presented him with his revised version of the text, and McEleney agreed that it was an improvement on the original and thus presented it to the council:

Bishop McEleney graciously accepted my text and promised to submit it in his own name. When the constitution Lumen Gentium was promulgated, I had the pleasure of seeing that the paragraph on the charisms of the faithful now corresponded substantially with what I had written. And when the Acta Synodalia were eventually published, I was able to verify the fact that in reworking that paragraph, the Theological Commission had accepted an emendation that had been proposed by Bishop John McEleney of Kingston, Jamaica. ²⁰

The relevant section of the emendation reads as follows:

Note 24, page 8, lines 24–28: let it say: “Therefore, the same Holy Spirit, who operates with divine freedom everywhere in the Church, gives his ‘apportioning to each as he wills’ (1 Cor 12:11), continuingly distributed among the faithful of all orders the same special graces to which they are restored ready and able in order to sustain the various work or offices or utility of the Church, according to . . . (1 Peter 4:10).” Reasons being:

1. The word “Therefore-Praeterea” is a better than “therefore-propterea” which is currently in the sentence.

2. The notion of the Holy Spirit’s freedom in his distributing gifts is of great import, but is not sufficiently apparent in the sentence.

3. It ought to be clearly said that the Holy Spirit gives charisms to the faithful in all orders in the Church.

4. In the sentence the concept of “Charisma” is not sufficiently clearly exposed in the words: “various gifts and offices for service”.

Note 24, page 8, lines 30–31: let it say: “[these charisms] ought to be accepted with an act of thanksgiving, and as much as it can be done by complying”. Reason being: the mention of human presenting cooperation to divine grace ought not be omitted, so that the fruit of the charism be included. ²¹

Looking back at this emendation reveals two important things. First is the remarkable unity of vision that existed between Sullivan’s thinking and the speech of Cardinal Léon Suenens, and second, the closeness of Sullivan’s suggested paragraph and the final paragraph of Lumen Gentium, article 12. ²² Giuseppe Rambaldi, in his article “The use and meaning of ‘Charism’ in Vatican II,” notes that this was “welcomed and presented almost to the letter by the Relatio in giving reasons for the new text” and therefore he sees this emendation as the most important for interpreting the teaching of the charisms in Lumen Gentium 12. ²³ It is also important to bear in mind as we move forward that the major things argued for here—greater insistence on the Spirit’s freedom; the wide bestowal of the charisms; the objection to imprecision which blurs office with charism—will each continue to be distinctive themes of Sullivan’s later academic writing on the charisms.

The contribution to the conciliar text would not be the only time Sullivan would exert an unanticipated influence on the theology of charism within Catholicism. As chance would have it, several years after the close of the council, he was invited to a meeting with a member of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith ²⁴ who tasked him with writing a report on the new movement of “Catholic Pentecostals” in the USA. ²⁵ This is an interesting coincidence considering that there is no evidence that those at the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith had any idea of Sullivan’s contribution to Lumen Gentium. Again, it seems being an American based in Rome was the primary qualifying factor. Sullivan’s investigation consisted of first becoming familiar with the history and character of Pentecostalism, before then engaging the fledgling literature on the Catholic movement including some of the early work of Edward O’Connor and Kilian McDonnell. ²⁶ The positive report he eventually sent back no doubt helped allay confusion and potential fears in the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith and, within eight years of the movement’s birth, leaders of the Catholic Charismatic Renewal had received a meeting with Pope Paul VI.

It is difficult to say how wide an influence, in an indirect way, this report had. Similarly, it is impossible to imagine how different Catholic ecclesiology would be if it were not for the major studies in Pneumatology and the charisms which the birth of the Catholic Charismatic Renewal prompted. In an indirect way, this might potentially be one of the most significant contributions Sullivan made to the theology of charisms within Catholicism.

Having submitted his report to the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Sullivan also had it published in the Gregorianum under the title, “The Pentecostal Movement” ²⁷ — the first of his publications to deal with the charisms. With his task now completed, Sullivan put the topic to one side and expected to move into other research areas. But this expectation was not to be realized. As Novak narrates, up until this point Sullivan’s research into the charismatic movement “had been entirely documentary and not experiential or observational in any way. That was about to change.” ²⁸

In the early 1970s, after accepting an invitation to attend from Fr. Carlo Martini, Sullivan became involved with the group later known as Lumen Christi. This was the first Catholic Charismatic Renewal prayer group meeting in Rome, which—thanks to Sullivan—was thereafter hosted in the Gregorian University until his first retirement twenty years later in 1992. ²⁹

Sullivan’s personal involvement with the charismatic movement initiated a new phase in his academic writing, one predominantly attentive to the charisms. Between 1974 and 1977, in what would be the most thematically focused three years of his academic life, Sullivan authored (or co-authored) eight articles, all of which dealt to some degree with the theology surrounding the charisms. ³⁰ This period of writing culminated in 1982 with the publication of the influential Charisms and the Charismatic Renewal (with a foreword by Cardinal Suenens). ³¹ Following Charisms and the Charismatic Renewal, Sullivan would only return to the topic of the charisms sporadically, although he always remained associated with the Catholic Charismatic Renewal. ³²

As we look back and reflect upon Sullivan’s life, we can notice the profound interconnectedness of his contributions to the theology of charism. If he had not concluded in 1963 that the charisms were widely distributed, it is unlikely he would have then gone on to write a positive report about the early Catholic Charismatic Renewal. He then would not have become personally involved with the movement, and thus would not have written the books and articles that he did. As Sullivan himself reflected some fifty years after the events of the council,

I am convinced that Vatican II’s positive teaching concerning the charisms of the faithful had a great deal to do with the acceptance of the Charismatic Renewal in the Catholic Church . . . In any case I think it unlikely that if the council had accepted Ruffini’s view, I myself would have had an open mind about the claims that people were making about the charisms they had received through their participation in this movement. ³³

The Ecclesial Implications of Vatican II’s Particular Understanding of Charism

Perhaps because of his involvement in helping to write Lumen Gentium 12 par. 2, Sullivan almost entirely builds his theological reflections on a close reading of the conciliar texts. ³⁴ Therefore, to understand Sullivan’s theology of charism it is necessary to understand how he read these conciliar documents. This is very important to get right, as even a slightly different understanding of charism might not lead to the same conclusions Sullivan is able to draw.

He first expounded his analysis of Vatican II’s teaching on the charisms in his article, “The Ecclesial Context of the Charismatic Renewal” (this part of the article also later re-appeared in Charisms and the Charismatic Renewal). ³⁵ The following is a long quote from that article but expresses the way Sullivan understood the Council’s teaching on the charisms, and thus requires a careful reading:

Some of these gifts [charisms] may be rare and extraordinary, but others are “simple and widely diffused.” But they are all called “special graces.” The conciliar text suggests two reasons for this: the way these gifts are given and the purpose for which they are given. The way is special, because it involves a direct intervention of the Holy Spirit in the life of the Church. The Council distinguishes between the way the Holy Spirit works “through the sacraments and Church ministries,” and the way he works in distributing his charismatic gifts. The latter is an immediate intervention of the Spirit, in which he exercises his sovereign freedom to allot his gifts as he wills and to whomever he wills, in a way that cannot be foreseen or controlled by man. Such gifts are “special” also by reason of the purpose for which they are given. Unlike the gifts of faith, hope, and love, which are inseparable from the gift of the indwelling Spirit, and which everyone must have in order to be pleasing to God, the charisms are “distributed among the faithful”; no one of these gifts is necessarily connected with sanctifying grace. Their purpose, as described by the Council, is to make people “fit and ready to undertake various tasks or offices advantageous for the renewal and upbuilding of the Church.” . . . [W]e can say that every genuine charism presupposes the gift of love, which moves the person to employ his gift in loving service to others. But a charism is “special grace,” in the sense that it equips a person in a particular kind of way for a particular kind of service. ³⁶

While Sullivan can give a short, snappy summary of what a charism (in the language of Vatican II, and thus his own thought) is—“A charism, then, as understood by Vatican II, can be defined as a grace given ability and willingness for any kind of service that contributes to the renewal and upbuilding of the Church” ³⁷ —it is also fundamentally important to keep in mind those things which are not to be considered charisms: hierarchical gifts; sacraments; ministries; sanctifying grace; and natural talents. ³⁸ This, then, is a very particular understanding of charism. If this particularity is not adequately grasped, then we will not be able to understand the conclusions Sullivan points towards. We have to be especially careful here as most major Catholic theologians have tended to minimise the distinction between charismatic and hierarchical gifts so vital to interpreting Lumen Gentium. ³⁹ Sullivan, as we have just noted, leans into this distinction. This means that, while it sounds strange to say, what makes Sullivan’s charismatic theology different from the wider Catholic theological literature is precisely the degree to which it corresponds with the council’s teaching.

One insight that flows from this distinction between hierarchical and charismatic gifts can be found in the section of his article, “The Ecclesial Context of the Charismatic Renewal,” titled “What would a ‘charismatic renewal of the church’ involve?” ⁴⁰ In this, Sullivan gives a vision of the role the charisms could, and indeed should, have in the life of the Church. These short few pages, therefore, are key to understanding the ecclesial role of the charisms in Sullivan’s thinking. ⁴¹ All of these are worthy of further reflection, but I want to draw attention particularly to the seventh point Sullivan identifies:

In a charismatically renewed Church, the choice of persons for roles of pastoral leadership (e.g. pastors, bishops, popes) would be made solely on the basis of the demonstrated presence in that person of the gifts of the Spirit that would equip him for such a role. Thus, however and by whomever the choice was made, ultimately it would be the Holy Spirit himself who, by the distribution of his gifts, would designate the leaders for the Church (cf. Acts 20:28—“Keep watch over yourselves and over all the flock of which the Holy Spirit has given you charge, as shepherds of the church of the Lord.”). ⁴²

The argument Sullivan is making here is a simple one: those who are to be ordained should already be demonstrating those charisms which will equip them for ordained ministry. ⁴³ This is not to deny that sacramental ordination bestows grace, but rather simply drawing out the claim of Lumen Gentium 12 par. 2 that: “By these gifts [charisms] He makes them fit and ready to undertake the various tasks and offices which contribute toward the renewal and building up of the Church.” If charismatic gifts are what makes someone fit and ready to undertake official ministry in the church (as well as all other ministries), then it is obvious that we cannot assume that the grace received through sacramental ordination was, of itself, a wholly sufficient basis for the priestly ministry. Presbyterial and episcopal ministry requires more than simply hierarchical gifts; according to Sullivan’s reading of the council, they also require charisms. The charisms are necessary for the fruitful and proper functioning of hierarchical ministry, which means that charism and institution should be united, not just in the church, but in the very person of the ordained minister. This is, writes Sullivan, “a goal to be aimed at and striven for, and the closer the reality comes to attaining it, the better the condition of the church will be.” ⁴⁴

Because Sullivan maintains the distinction between charismatic and hierarchical gifts, he is able to point at the interplay between the two, not simply within the community, but in the actual person of the priest/bishop/pope. It is because he follows Vatican II in distinguishing between them, he is able to insist on the necessity of both. Consequently, Sullivan can argue that, while new grace is given through sacramental ordination, hierarchical gifts should presume prior charismatic gifts, and therefore ordination is not just a bestowal of new grace, but also recognition of charisms previously given.

Although Sullivan does not use this language, it makes it possible to speak of an interlinked two-layered structure of the church: one charismatic and one hierarchical/sacramental (while maintaining that both flow forth from the Spirit). Each structure would be incomplete without the other. In this understanding, the hierarchical/sacramental structure is only able to properly function when it is, shall we say, drawing from the charismatic structure. If hierarchical gifts presuppose charismatic gifts, the hierarchical/sacramental structure necessarily presupposes a charismatic structure. The hierarchical/sacramental structure consists of certain official ministries that must be present in every church (bestowed through the laying on of hands and apostolic succession), but it is the charismatic structure which provides people to fill these offices (as well as the multiplicity of other ministries). The charismatic structure is then, in one sense, the foundation upon which the hierarchical is built. This reveals how wrong it would be to conceive an essential contradiction between the charismatically ordered church and the hierarchically/sacramentally ordered church. From this perspective, it could even be argued that, provided both hierarchical and charismatic dimensions were working as they should be, there need not be any tension between them. Instead, there should be integration, alignment, and synergy. We could speak of legitimate tension (as Sullivan himself does) if either dimension was not functioning as it should. ⁴⁵ But the tension must be seen as a response to an issue, while collaboration remains the ideal we seek to achieve and maintain.

Both charismatic and hierarchical gifts are given by the Spirit for the building up of the Body of Christ. But the fact that they are not guaranteed to be united can help explain how it is that, as John C. Haughey writes, there occasionally appear “to be office holders without any real charisms.” ⁴⁶ It can also explain, at least partially, some of the tensions which have arisen between the “charismatic” and the “institutional” over the course of history. But charism and hierarchy, if both are functioning correctly, should not be in conflict any more than the Spirit is in conflict with himself.

In insisting that official sacramental ministries and charismatic movements are two “equally important” ⁴⁷ ways the Spirit gives life in the Church, and that the unity of the two must be particularly manifested in the person of priest/bishop/pope, Sullivan was anticipating to a notable degree the later papal position that “the institutional and charismatic aspects are co-essential as it were to the Church’s constitution.” ⁴⁸

In some ways, this retrospectively seems obvious. But we are only able to come to this insight if we first maintain the conciliar distinction between hierarchical and charismatic gifts. The reason Sullivan has a contribution to make here is because this distinction is routinely suppressed. I will give the example of Yves Congar and his otherwise very ecclesiologically rich theology of ministries to highlight the distinct contribution of Sullivan’s approach. ⁴⁹

Congar, like many others, considers hierarchical gifts to be charisms. He thinks that by recognizing this we can retain the Catholic insistence of the necessity of sacramental ordination as the fundamental ordering principle while still being able to refer to a charismatic structure of the church. This is seen in his analysis of Gotthold Hasenhüttl:

Gotthold Hasenhüttl, a disciple of Hans Küng, has suggested that charisms provide the lines on which the Church is structured . . . It is an admissible theory on condition that we are quite clear about the exact place occupied amongst the charisms or gifts of the Spirit by those which are linked with the sacrament significantly known as the sacrament of Holy Orders, which has a distinct structural function in the community (the Church). ⁵⁰

So, when expressing his theology of ministries, he writes the following:

One of the greatest gains of the present day is the reinstatement of the notion of the charisms and, linked with them, ministries (note the plural) . . . Ministries differ from one another. Some are sacramental structures: they come from the above although at the same time they belong very much within the community. ⁵¹

This emphasis does not deny a distinction between the way ministries come into being. Congar notes that within the structured community instituted by Christ there are those ministries “freely raised up by the Spirit, others linked by the imposition of hands to the institution and mission of the Twelve.” ⁵² There are those who have ministries flowing forth from the “charisms of the faithful” (what Vatican II would simply call “charisms”), and then you have those ministries flowing forth from the “charisms” of sacramental ordination (“hierarchical gifts” in Vatican II’s language). But there is no discussion about the interrelation between these two in the person of the priest/bishop. This gives the unfortunate impression that everyone in the community needs to rely on the unpredictable and dynamic help of the Spirit apart from those who are sacramentally ordained. Those who have received sacramental ordination, it seems to suggest, do not need other charisms as their ministry flows from their “charisms” of office. They find their place in the community through their ordination alone. This is the problem: if hierarchical gifts are called charisms, then within a church structure where everyone’s ministry is based upon charisms, it gives the impression that the grace of ordination is a sufficient “charismatic” basis for a fruitful priestly ministry. The necessity of the charisms (in Vatican II’s sense of the term) would thus be relegated to lay ministry. This, of course, was not what Congar believed, but it is an unfortunate implication of referring to both charismatic and hierarchical gifts as charisms and therefore insufficiently exploring the dynamic between the two. It means that by attempting to hold together the charismatic and hierarchical gifts by downplaying the distinction and uniting them etymologically, the actual result is that the two are held apart existentially, each “type” of gift relating to different persons with different ministries. This, in turn, means that there is no discussion about requirements for ordination and how the two “types” of ministry would interplay. I can find no place in his later writings where Congar explicitly describes someone as having a ministry based upon both charisms and the grace of ordination. ⁵³ This gap leaves us with questions: Did the person ordained not have a prior charismatic ministry? Is the fact that he did unrelated to his ordination? Did he give up this ministry when he was ordained? Congar, in his theology of ministries, offers no direct answers to these questions, but Sullivan does. The person ordained should have had a prior charismatic ministry, which was related to his ordination, and these charisms continue to help him in his new sacramental ministry. As we noted earlier, Sullivan’s insight is that hierarchical gifts presuppose charismatic gifts. By integrating Sullivan’s understanding we can strengthen Congar’s theology of ministries by removing ambiguity and thereby protecting it against the possible reading identified above. Somewhat paradoxically, it is because Sullivan treats charismatic and hierarchical gifts as distinct that he can insist that they should be united.

Sullivan’s view, therefore, is not just an inspiring vision, but a challenge to the church. At present the only charism explicitly required for ordination (in the Roman rite) is celibacy. ⁵⁴ If this charism is judged not to be present in a particular applicant then, as the 1961 guidelines bluntly stated, the superiors should “bar him from the religious life and the priesthood,” ⁵⁵ The prospective candidate for the priesthood must demonstrate this charism over a number of years prior to being ordained (it is certainly not assumed that the charism will be given via ordination). ⁵⁶ If we take Sullivan’s point seriously, we must ask the following: why is it that celibacy is the only charism explicitly requiring prior demonstration? Why is there not a requirement to demonstrate a charism of service, or discernment, or teaching, or preaching, or administration, or any of a hundred other possible charismatic ministries? There are, of course, different models of the priesthood, but surely a prospective priest should have at least some kind of recognized charismatic ministry prior to ordination? If not, for what reason are they (rather than anyone else) being ordained? As this is presently not a requirement, are we not therefore in a situation where the men being ordained will quite possibly lack the gifts required for a maximally fruitful ecclesial ministry? No amount of seminary training can force the Spirit to grant his gifts. It seems that here again we find the mistaken (and unstated) assumption that the grace of ordination renders charisms unnecessary. Sullivan directly challenges this, and by doing so he invites us to imagine how different the church would be if such a requirement was implemented. How different would the church seem if: every priest/bishop possessed a charismatic ministry relevant to the needs of the hierarchical ministry; every sermon was preached in the power of the Holy Spirit; the authenticity of every initiative was able to be correctly discerned; every pope was able to faithfully facilitate Christian unity—in short, if, at every level of the church, there was a true charismatic renewal?

Conclusion

As we look back at Sullivan’s life it is easy to notice how often, almost without warning, the topic of the charisms would continue to present itself. The spontaneity and unpredictability of the Spirit—something Sullivan always sought to stress—can be seen in the situations he found himself in, and in the impact neither planned nor expected. That spontaneous and unpredictable reality was not simply something Sullivan wrote about; it was something that characterised his life. As Novak writes in the conclusion of his thesis,

Sullivan was an accidental ecclesiologist and, knowing little about charisms, was given an opportunity to help define the Church’s understanding of charisms in Lumen Gentium, still with no hint of becoming a scholar of charisms and a part of the Catholic Charismatic Renewal. Using his own words, from his summary of how he became involved in the Renewal, his whole life could be characterized by “what you can either call ‘accidents’ or ‘Providence.’” ⁵⁷

All those Catholics interested in the charisms, and especially those involved with the Catholic Charismatic Renewal, have a debt to Sullivan, and we can only thank God for the way he responded to these moments of Providence.

Suenens, in his introduction to Charisms and the Charismatic Renewal, describes Sullivan as someone who restores the original meaning of words. ⁵⁸ This is high praise coming from someone Sullivan disagrees with on several points—including how each of them conceptualizes the charisms. ⁵⁹ Although some minor elements of Sullivan’s understanding of the charisms could possibly be considered exegetically questionable (in so far as it is perfectly reflective of St. Paul), ⁶⁰ no one can doubt that it is remarkably faithful to Lumen Gentium. Indeed, is there another ecclesiologist who bases their charismatic theology as closely on the conciliar texts as does Francis Sullivan?

By sticking to his close reading of the conciliar texts, Sullivan is able to sketch a vision of an authentically Catholic understanding of a charismatically structured church which manages to maintain the insights elsewhere emphasised while avoiding the pitfalls which have plagued those attempts. ⁶¹ Sullivan is able to maintain both the totally free and dynamic structure brought about by the spontaneous bestowal of the charisms, and the ordered, stable structure brought about by sacramental ordination, simply by insisting that the two must be joined in the person of the ordained.

“Francis A. Sullivan,” writes Richard R. Gaillardetz, “is surely one of the most underappreciated theologians of the post-Vatican II era.” ⁶² My hope is that this article brings greater awareness to Sullivan’s theology of charism, helps grow his recognition as one of the most significant authorities on this topic, and further establishes him as indispensable to anyone seeking to engage with Lumen Gentium 12. I also hope that this article may prompt other theologians to take a look (or a second look) at Sullivan’s theology of charism. The fact that his approach (and it seems some of the subtleties of the conciliar texts) has not made a large impact in wider theological literature means that Sullivan’s writings on the charisms are a rich resource largely untapped, and thus ripe for future engagement.

As the titles of the recent doctoral dissertations on Sullivan suggest, he was one of the leading Catholic theologians in the areas of the charisms and the magisterium. He thus had the rare distinction of being an expert in both, to use the language of Lumen Gentium, “charismatic and hierarchical gifts” (LG 4). It is apt, then, that it is he who can serve as a springboard to a future constructive ecclesiology seeking to do justice to both works of the Spirit.