The question, now a thousand years old, of the Roman Catholic Church and the Orthodox Church crops up fairly regularly in conversation. At least it does for me. Having myself been received into the Church from evangelical Protestantism, and having taught in college, seminary, and boys’ schools for 40 years, I find my former students and others who have caught wind of my conversion knocking at my door with the news that their spiritual pilgrimage has landed them at a fork in the road. Which shall it be? Rome or Constantinople?
This fork presents a prickly question for such a pilgrim. He finds himself here, en route away from Geneva, Amsterdam, and Edinburgh—the holy sees (so to speak) of the various conservative Presbyterian and Dutch Reformed denominations. Or from Canterbury: These are the Episcopalians who, having enjoyed the splendors of Anglican liturgy, hymnody, architecture, and ceremony, wake up unhappily one fine morning wondering where on earth a trustworthy magisterial and apostolic voice is to be found. Or it may be that such a pilgrim has been formed in the heady atmosphere of the independent churches that very often are dynamos of spiritual enterprise.
In every case that has come to my door, it is the question, finally, “But what is the Church?” that has bundled our pilgrim along to the fork. The Reformed churches have dignity, titanic theology, weighty preaching, and circumspect government. The Anglicans have everything noted previously. The independent churches have zeal, ardent fidelity to the Person of Jesus Christ Himself, and quite breathtaking energy and creativity when it comes both to the spiritual nurturing of their congregations and to their outreach to the “unsaved.”
But this nettlesome question: What, then, is the Church? The Reformed churches believe that they rediscovered, in the 16th century, the proper form of church government and preaching, jettisoning all sacrament, liturgy, and apostolic authority. The Anglicans (in the States, these are the Episcopalians) are divided. Traditionally they have understood themselves to be a Protestant Church. They have Elizabeth I to thank for having settled the matter with the power of the Crown. But, as for some of the “Caroline divines” (17th century), and, more familiarly, as for John Henry Cardinal Newman, many Anglicans understand themselves to be “fully catholic.” The independent churches are not interested in the Church, if by that we mean the mystery of Christ’s Body existing in history—visibly, uninterruptedly, and apostolically—un der the authority with which the Lord vested Peter. For these churches, the matter is referred to a category known as “the invisible church,” by which they mean simply the aggregate of individual believers in Jesus Christ, wherever they might be encountered, all over the world, in any century, under whatever ensign (there are 40,000 separate Protestant denominations as of this writing).
There is one immense exception to all of this: the Orthodox Church. Certainly the See of Rome has no doubt that what we have in Orthodoxy is a fully apostolic Church. John Paul II referred to Rome and Constantinople as “the two lungs” of the Church. And pope after pope has attempted—almost with tears, we might say—to find a way to restore the ancient unity.
The Orthodox have grave reasons for holding aloof from the Petrine See, and also the vexed question of the filioque (the Holy Ghost as proceeding from the Father and the Son). A most helpful current treatment of the topic is Eastern Orthodoxy and the See of Peter, by James Likoudis. Catholics will find here virtually all that need be said.
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