The "Scandal" of Abdication

I have seen so many commenters in the past days who have praised the Pope for his decision to step down as reigning Pontiff, viewing it as sign of his humility, his realization that he cannot lead because of his age, even (on the more extreme end) that he is setting a precedent for future Popes to feel free to resign after a term of years.

I must say that I strongly object to these sentiments, as, contrary to the prevailing headlines, the Holy Father did not in fact "resign". What he said was:

"I declare that I renounce the ministry of Bishop of Rome, Successor of Saint Peter, entrusted to me by the Cardinals on 19 April 2005..."

The Supreme Pontiff is not merely an employee, free to retire as he will. He is a monarch. He is the Supreme Head of the Roman Catholic Church, the Vicar of Christ on Earth, endowed by God with the powers to bind and to loose those things pertaining to faith and morals, both on Earth and in Heaven.

What the Holy Father did was to abdicate, to renounce his claim to the throne. And this, perhaps rightly, can be perceived as scandalous.

Although Christ is the Eternal King, reigning gloriously in Heaven, the person seated on the Chair of Peter exercises the temporal rule over Christians universally in Christ's name. One does not abdicate lightly or for trivial reasons such as health or age, or any of the other reasons that have been touted as noble and good and right-- after all, he was chosen by God for the position that he holds.

For this reason, I can understand why many people have reacted to the news that the Holy Father is stepping down, not with praise, but rather with a sense of confusion, anger, and even betrayal-- I know for me personally, I am still trying to wrap my head around the idea that Benedict, a Pope so loved and who has done so much for the building up of the unity of the Church, is stepping down while leaving many projects largely unfinished.

There is a very poignant scene in the film, The King's Speech, which portrays Bertie (the future King George VI) just after his elder brother, Edward, renounces the throne. The scene shows Bertie's reaction to this turn of events, and you can tell that he has a sense of utter desolation, fear, abandonment, anger, an incapacity to handle what is to come-- all because of an act that was seen by many as selfish.

I think that this image, one full of uncertainty about the future, is perhaps an apt comparison to the feeling that many may have about the news of our Holy Father's abdication from the throne of Peter.

Edward VIII's reasons for abdicating the throne of the British Empire were most certainly not noble ones, and had an impact across the globe, especially in light of the rising Nazi powers at the time. However, the decision also paved the way for precisely the right leader at the right time to conquer the evil plight facing Europe.

Whether our beloved Holy Father truly made the right decision or not is something that we will never know-- that will remain between him and God. I do think, however, that if we have placed our trust in Pope Benedict during his pontificate up to this point, then we can at least give him the benefit of the doubt in this particular decision, which I am sure he did not make lightly.

For those who would praise his decision to abdicate, I would encourage you to celebrate the past and current leadership he has given, but not to celebrate his abdication as such-- I have no doubt that, though the Holy Father has deliberated long and has now made a firm decision, it is not one that has come without great personal suffering to him.

For those who are still at a loss at the nearly unprecedented action that Benedict has taken, I would encourage you to remember Christ, and use this as an opportunity to renew your faith in his promise that the gates of hell would not prevail against his Church.

With that faith intact, we can remain in hope that Benedict's abdication was indeed the right decision; but regardless, to trust in the guidance of the Holy Spirit to bring forth the next Pope, who will be the right man for the right time, and through the grace of the Office of Peter, be able to navigate the barque of the Church through the turbulent waters which undoubtedly lie ahead.

In this sense, we are not unlike the disciples, who hoped in the Messiah's kingship to free them from their bondage, only to be utterly disappointed by the scandal of the crucifixion and death of their Lord and Savior.

Perhaps different from the Disciples, we have the benefit in hindsight of knowing of the Resurrection. And so, though perhaps scandalous to some, hopefully this event in the life of the Church may be an opportunity for further growth, vitality, and renewal for the faithful members of the Church Militant, that we too will be brought to the glory of his Resurrection.

Oremus pro Pontifice!

Emotional Detachment in the Search for God's Will

Growth in spiritual maturity is concomitant with a greater conformity of one's will to the Will of God, a detachment from the things of the world and one's own desires in preference for the eternal joy found in personal surrender to the Blessed Trinity. Yet, though the question of what this detachment is and how it may be accomplished is easily discussed, rarely is this detachment as easily achieved. As I, for one, have often found, expressing a desire for God's will to be done is sometimes more of a lip-service than an authentic interior conformity to this "desire". Our emotions can, at the least, conflict with reasoned surrender to Divine Providence. At the worst, poorly ordered emotions may be a source of mis-direction in our spiritual journey.

During a Sunday dinner conversation earlier this month, some friends posed a question to my husband and I on this very subject. We had been reviewing the year-long series of discussions and events leading us to make a "major life decision", and had shared that though we felt blessed to have such peace with the outcome, confident that this was God's will for our family, we felt equally blessed that we had been able to remain (relatively...we're far from sainthood) emotionally detached through the whole process of discernment. Hence the question: how does one remain emotionally detached when seeking God's will?

It was an excellent and insightful question, which gave both of us pause for some reflection before we answered. It is this reflection that I wish to share, and as a disclaimer, it is only based on our very humble experience - we will spend our lifetimes pursuing greater detachment from our will, greater abandonment to the will of God.

This question seems, to me, to be at the heart of the spiritual journey, the journey to sanctity, for it really is a question of how we not only conform our hearts to, but also love, God's will for us. It is a question that approaches the reality of what it is to be human, soul and body, endowed with a rational, intellectual, as well as emotional and affective, nature. Just as the proper integration of reason and emotions is appropriate to the more material matters of life (just because I love and desire that gorgeous pair of designer heels, doesn't mean I can afford, or should indulge myself by buying them), this proper integration is also essential to a healthy spiritual life.

Authentic emotional detachment is not, therefore, a rejection of the emotions, but an affirmation of their appropriate value. Karol Wojtyla's philosophical work (here I am thinking specifically of The Acting Person) is very strong on the necessity of integration of the constitutive elements of the entire person, body and soul. This integration, therefore, requires a proper ordering of the emotions.

With respect to emotional detachment in the search for God's will, this ordering would consist in a detachment from the desired outcome: a knowledge of the various possibilities, and (though an emotional preference may be present) a peace with allowing God to reveal His will in time. In the most perfect sense, it is an imitation of Christ in Gethsemane, "My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet, not as I will, but as you will." (Mt. 26:39).

This attitude of Christ in the hours before His Passion indicates another aspect of how this emotional detachment is achieved. In some cases, it seems as though certain individuals are given a grace to remain detached, to live completely in surrender to the will of God. However, for many, if not most of us (including myself), we learn this detachment through the experience of suffering and sacrifice. The two are closely related. In suffering, whether it be a mundane inconvenience associated with life in family and community or a more difficult struggle or loss, there is a point where we can no longer control the situation through our human abilities. We are faced with fundamental metaphysical reality: the limits of our created, human nature, and our essential dependence upon God. This is a reality we may freely choose to either accept or resist; and the humble acceptance of this reality is the foundation for emotional detachment, and surrender to God's will. The practice of self-denial through sacrifice, for similar reasons likewise possesses inestimable value for us as we seek greater conformity to the Sacred Heart.

In all of this, we remain very human. Sometimes, understanding of God's will precedes and motivates our surrender (especially when we can see that God's will is best for us), sometimes this understanding follows shortly afterwords, and sometimes we will not understand God's providential design until we enjoy the Beatific Vision. As humans, therefore, this is our lifelong challenge: to surrender to God's loving will readily and joyfully both in situations we comprehend and those we do not fully understand.

The question of what it means to conform our will to that of our Creator is thus a mystery, a paradox at once both simple and complex, as uniform as our shared human nature, and as diverse as the all the variety of the personalities of each individual. And the mystery of God's omnipotence far surpasses the vagaries of our human wills and emotions. The love of the Trinity is not coercive: it is an invitation to divine life that we may freely accept in perfect surrender, freely refuse in obstinate disdain, or half-heartedly reciprocate in a lifelong ambivalent struggle. Whatever our spiritual state, we may trust that God works with us, whether our emotions be ordered or disordered, to mysteriously accomplish his ever-perfect will.