English

Le nekaj dni tega je, kar sem z mlajšim prijateljem iz Skupnosti govoril o razmišljanju Josepha Razingerja, ki ga je v nemški radijski eter spustil davnega leta 1969. To je tisti duhovnik, ki je kasneje postal nadškof škofije München in Freising, nato pa končno pa je bil izvoljen kot papež Benedikt XVI. No ja, govoriti o nekem razmišljanju o Cerkvi izpred več kakšnih 50 let v končni fazi ni tako nenavadno početje. Le, da so njegove izjave postale neke vrste klasično branje, ki ga danes zlahka vzamemo kot preroško in se mu torej pustimo nagovoriti. Točno tako je izzvenel najin pogovor. Nakar sem želel celoten govor v miru prebrati in bil nad njim povsem prevzet. Predvsem za to, ker je bolj otipljiv kot bi si človek mislil. Ratzingerjevo razmišljanje je morda že prevedeno v slovenščino, tega niti ne vem. Za svoj zapis uporabljam svoj prosti prevod.

Uvodoma v svojem nadvse prepoznavnem stilu reče:

Bodimo previdni pri svojih napovedih. Še vedno velja, kar je rekel sveti Avguštin: človek je brezno; nihče ne more videti vnaprej kaj se bo dvignilo iz teh globin. In kdor verjame, da Cerkve ne določa le brezno, ki je človek, ampak sega v večje, neskončno brezno, ki je Bog, bo prvi, ki bo okleval s svojimi napovedmi, kajti ta naivna želja po gotovosti je lahko le napoved njegove lastne zgodovinske nesposobnosti.

Za nekoga, ki je vešč krščanske duhovnosti, kaj takega ne zveni presenetljivo ali tuje. Saj je vendar okolje krščanske molitve kraj srečanja s Stvarnikom, katerega temeljna značilnost je neskončna drugačnost v ljubezni. Vstopati v odnos z njim je tudi vstopanje v resnico o sebi samemu … bolj breznu kot ne. Sveti Avguštin je torej o človeku mislil kot o breznu, zagotovo tudi na račun njegove grešnosti. Po eni strani nihče ne more zares vedeti, do kje vse lahko absurd greha seže, po drugi strani pa seveda še toliko manj do katere globine se bo v tem ali onem spustila milost in iz globin rodila novo življenje. O breznu je precej pred svetim Avguštinom (natančno kakšnih 200 let pred njim) pisal tudi Klemen Aleksandrijski, ki v svojih Preprogah zapiše: Če se poženem v Kristusovo veličastvo in od tod s Svetostjo v Brezno, se lahko vsaj na neki način približamo spoznanju Vsevladarja, tako da ne spoznamo, kaj je, temveč kaj ni. V kolikor ni jasno takoj na prvo žogico, Klemen s Svetostjo opiše Božjo osebo Duha, Brezno pa seveda stoji za Očeta. S svojim apofatičnim pristopom, za katerem zagotovo stoji temeljna izkušnja srečanja, gre pravzaprav v podobno smer, ki jo je glede grešnosti človeka ubral Avguštin, le da je v tem primeru zaznamovana s svetostjo Boga, v breznosti torej še dosti bolj neumljiva.

Kar se mi zdi izredno zanimivo, je Ratzingerjev poudarek, da je Cerkev temeljno zaznamovana s to skrivnostjo obeh, človeka in Boga. Ne samo, da je Cerkev v zadnjih letih (zdaj že kar desetletjih, saj je Spotlight izbruhnil leta 2001) skoraj brutalno in zares na celi črti postala razgaljena glede tega, kako srhljivo globoko črno je lahko človeško brezno; ob Avguštinovi opombi se z zanimanjem sprašujem, kako nepredstavljivo je lahko brezno, ki je Bog. Kako drugače se lahko stvari odvijejo v Božji Cerkvi kot si navadno predstavljamo, da ne rečem – brez pretiranega razmisleka pričakujemo. Če naredim zelo kratko vzporednico: si je lahko Izrael predstavljal, da je lahko brezno skrivnosti Boga tako veliko, da besede Iz Jeruzalema bom naredil kup razvalin (Jer 9,10) niso preprost simbolizem. V končni fazi si niso imeli kaj dosti predstavljati, ker so morali preprosto sprejeti, da je bil čas, ko se je prerokba materializirala. Podobno si mislim, da smo udje Cerkve včasih v nekakšni naivni pobožni drži, v kateri si predstavljamo, da za nas posledice našega lastnega greha vendar niso tako hude … ker smo pač Cerkev. Bomo vendar morali misliti onkraj.

Po uvodni opombi nadaljuje svoj razmišljanje o Cerkvi:

Kako vse to vpliva na problem, ki ga preučujemo? Pomeni, da so velike besede tistih, ki prerokujejo Cerkev brez Boga in brez vere, zgolj prazno govoričenje. Ne potrebujemo Cerkve, ki slavi kult dejanj v političnih molitvah. To je popolnoma odveč, zato bo takšna Cerkev uničila samo sebe. Ostala bo Cerkev Jezusa Kristusa, Cerkev, ki veruje v Boga, ki je postal človek in nam obljublja življenje onkraj smrti.

Duhovnika, ki ni nič več kot socialni delavec, lahko nadomestijo psihoterapevt in drugi strokovnjaki; toda duhovnik, ki ni strokovnjak, ki ne stoji na strani, opazujoč igro, ne daje uradnih nasvetov, ampak se v imenu Boga daje na razpolago človeku, ki je ob njem v njegovi žalosti, veselju, upanju in strahu, tak duhovnik bo v prihodnosti zagotovo potreben.

Pojdimo še korak dlje. Iz današnje krize bo nastala Cerkev prihodnosti – Cerkev, ki je veliko izgubila. Postala bo majhna in bo morala začeti bolj ali manj na novo, od začetka. Ne bo več mogla prebivati v mnogih zgradbah, ki jih je zgradila v času blaginje. Z zmanjševanjem števila njenih pripadnikov bo izgubila mnoge družbene privilegije. V nasprotju s prejšnjimi časi bo veliko bolj veljala za prostovoljno družbo, v katero je mogoče vstopiti le na podlagi svobodne odločitve. Kot majhna družba bo imela veliko višje zahteve glede pobude posameznih članov. Nedvomno bo odkrila nove oblike služenja in v duhovništvo posvečevala potrjene kristjane, ki že opravljajo kakšen poklic. V mnogih manjših občestvih ali v samostojnih družbenih skupinah bo pastoralna oskrba običajno potekala na ta način. Vzporedno s tem bo duhovniška služba s polnim delovnim časom tako kot doslej nepogrešljiva. Toda ob vseh spremembah, o katerih bi lahko ugibali, bo Cerkev svoje bistvo na novo in s polnim prepričanjem našla v tem, kar je bilo vedno v njenem središču: v veri v troedinega Boga, v Jezusa Kristusa, učlovečenega Božjega Sina, v navzočnosti Duha do konca sveta. V veri in molitvi bo ponovno prepoznala zakramente kot bogoslužje Boga in ne kot predmet liturgične znanosti.

Cerkev bo bolj duhovna Cerkev, ki si ne bo prisvajala političnega mandata in ki ne bo koketirala tako z levico kot z desnico. To bo za Cerkev težko, saj jo bo proces kristalizacije in razjasnjevanja stal veliko dragocene energije. Zaradi tega bo postala uboga in Cerkev krotkih. Proces bo še toliko bolj naporen, ker bo morala prenehati biti sektaško ozkogleda in napihnjeno samovoljna. Lahko predvidevamo, da bo za vse to potreben čas. Proces bo dolg in naporen, kot je bila pot od lažnega naprednjaštva na predvečer francoske revolucije – ko je škof lahko veljal za pametnega, če se je norčeval iz dogem in celo namigoval, da obstoj Boga nikakor ni gotov – do prenove devetnajstega stoletja. Ko pa bo preizkušnja tega presejanja mimo, bo iz bolj poduhovljene in poenostavljene Cerkve pritekla velika moč.

Ljudje v popolnoma načrtovanem svetu se bodo znašli nepopisno osamljeni. Če so popolnoma izgubili pogled na Boga, bodo občutili vso grozo svoje revščine. Potem bodo odkrili majhno čredo vernikov kot nekaj povsem novega. Odkrili jo bodo kot upanje, ki je namenjeno njim, kot odgovor, ki so ga vedno skrivaj iskali.

Zato se mi zdi gotovo, da so pred Cerkvijo zelo težki časi. Resnična kriza se je komaj začela. Računati bomo morali na strašne pretrese. Vendar sem prav tako prepričan o tem, kaj bo na koncu ostalo: ne Cerkev političnega kulta, ki je že mrtva, ampak Cerkev vere. Morda ne bo več prevladujoča družbena sila v tolikšni meri, kot je bila do nedavnega; vendar bo doživela nov razcvet in bo veljala za dom človeka, kjer bo našel življenje in upanje onkraj smrti.

English

This is the future of the Church

Only a few days back, I talked to a young friend from the Community about Joseph Ratzinger’s reflections, which he published on German radio in 1969. This is the priest who later became Archbishop of the Diocese of Munich and Freising and was elected Pope Benedict XVI. Well, yes, talking about someone’s 50 years old thoughts on the Church is not such an unusual thing to do after all. It is just that his statements have become a kind of classic reading, which today we can easily take as prophetic and therefore allow ourselves to be addressed by him. That is exactly how our conversation turned out. After peacefully reading the complete reflection, I was utterly overwhelmed by it. Above all, it is more tangible than one would think.

He begins in his highly recognizable style:

Let us, therefore, be cautious in our prognostications. What St. Augustine said is still true: man is an abyss; what will rise out of these depths, no one can see in advance. And whoever believes that the Church is not only determined by the abyss that is man, but reaches down into the greater, infinite abyss that is God, will be the first to hesitate with his predictions, for this naïve desire to know for sure could only be the announcement of his historical ineptitude.

For someone skilled in Christian spirituality, such a thing does not sound surprising or strange. After all, the environment of Christian prayer is a place of encounter with the Creator, whose fundamental characteristic is infinite otherness in love. Entering into a relationship with Him is also joining the truth about oneself … more abyssal than not. Therefore, St. Augustine thought of man as an abyss, undoubtedly because of his sinfulness. On the one hand, no one can know to what depths the absurdity of sin can go, and on the other hand, of course, still less to what depths grace will descend and from the depths give birth to new life. Long before St. Augustine (some 200 years before him, to be precise), Clement of Alexandria also wrote about the abyss, writing: If we are driven into the glory of Christ, and thence with Holiness into the Abyss, we can get at least in some way approach the knowledge of the Omnipotent, so that we know not what is, but what is not. In case it is not immediately apparent, Holiness by Clement is the Person of God the Spirit, and the abyss, of course, stands for the Father. In his apophatic approach, which indeed has the fundamental experience of the encounter behind it, he is going in a similar direction to that taken by Augustine concerning man’s sinfulness, except that in this case, it is marked by the holiness of God. So in the abyss, it is much more unthoughtful.

What I find very interesting is Ratzinger’s emphasis that the Church is fundamentally marked by this mystery of both man and God. Not only has the Church in recent years (decades now, since Spotlight started in 2001) become almost brutally and genuinely naked in front of the fact of how chillingly intensely dark the human abyss can be; I wonder with interest at Augustine’s remark, how unimaginable the abyss that is God can be. How differently things can play out in God’s Church than we usually imagine, not to say expect without any significant reflection. To make a very brief parallel: could Israel have speculated that the abyss of the mystery of God could be so great that the words I will make of Jerusalem a heap of ruins (Jer 9:11) are not mere symbolism? They did not have much to imagine because they had to accept that there was a time when the prophecy materialized. Similarly, I guess that we as the members of the body of the Church are sometimes in a kind of naive pious posture, in which we imagine that the consequences of our sin are not so severe for us after all … because we are the Church. We will, however, have to think beyond.

After his introductory remarks, he continues his reflection on the Church:

How does all this affect the problem we are examining? It means that the big talk of those who prophesy a Church without God and without faith is all empty chatter. We have no need for a Church that celebrates the cult of action in political prayers. It is utterly superfluous. Therefore, it will destroy itself. What will remain is the Church of Jesus Christ, the Church that believes in the God who has become man and promises us life beyond death.

The kind of priest who is no more than a social worker can be replaced by the psychotherapist and other specialists; but the priest who is no specialist, who does not stand on the [sidelines], watching the game, giving official advice, but in the name of God places himself at the disposal of man, who is beside them in their sorrows, in their joys, in their hope and their fear, such a priest will undoubtedly be needed in the future.

Let us go a step further. From the crisis of today, the Church of tomorrow will emerge — a Church that has lost much. She will become small and have to start afresh more or less from the beginning. She will no longer be able to inhabit many of the edifices she built in prosperity. As the number of her adherents diminishes, it will lose many of her social privileges.

In contrast to an earlier age, it will be seen much more as a voluntary society, entered only by free decision. As a small society, it will make much bigger demands on the initiative of her members. Undoubtedly it will discover new forms of ministry and ordain to the priesthood approved Christians who pursue some profession. In many smaller congregations or self-contained social groups, pastoral care will normally be provided in this fashion. Alongside this, the full-time ministry of the priesthood will be indispensable as formerly. But in all of the changes at which one might guess, the Church will find her essence afresh and with full conviction in that which was always at her center: faith in the triune God, in Jesus Christ, the Son of God made man, in the presence of the Spirit until the end of the world. In faith and prayer, she will again recognize the sacraments as the worship of God and not as a subject for liturgical scholarship.

The Church will be more spiritual, not presuming upon a political mandate, flirting as little with the Left as with the Right. It will be hard for the Church, for the process of crystallization and clarification will cost her much valuable energy. It will make her poor and cause her to become the Church of the meek. The process will be all the more arduous, for sectarian narrow-mindedness and pompous self-will will have to be shed. One may predict that all of this will take time. The process will be long and wearisome as was the road from the false progressivism on the eve of the French Revolution — when a bishop might be thought smart if he made fun of dogmas and even insinuated that the existence of God was by no means certain — to the renewal of the nineteenth century. But when the trial of this sifting is past, a great power will flow from a more spiritualized and simplified Church.

Men in a totally planned world will find themselves unspeakably lonely. If they have entirely lost sight of God, they will feel the whole horror of their poverty. Then they will discover the little flock of believers as something wholly new. They will discover it as a hope that is meant for them, an answer for which they have always been searching in secret.

And so, it seems certain to me that the Church is facing tough times. The real crisis has scarcely begun. We will have to count on terrific upheavals. But I am equally certain about what will remain at the end: not the Church of the political cult, which is dead already, but the Church of faith. It may well no longer be the dominant social power to the extent that she was until recently. However, it will enjoy a fresh blossoming and be seen as man’s home, where he will find life and hope beyond death.