Unity in Diversity

Have you ever wondered what the difference is between a regular parish priest and a Jesuit priest? What does it mean to be a Franciscan Catholic instead of, say, just a regular Catholic?

Some assume that those different orders just pertain to different tasks. For example, a Maryknoll priest is usually off on missions, while Jesuits are known for their scholarship and social justice activism.

There is more than that, though--and it could be the key to the future of Christian unity of all denominations.

The word charism is usually thrown around to describe these differences. The people who follow these different orders would traditionally feel called to a different kind of spirituality. The Franciscans started out as mendicants (poor beggars) who sold what they owned, gave it to the poor (as expressed in the gospel), and lived a life of poetic simplicity in works of charity. Dominicans are equally mendicant, but more theological. Think St. Francis with his nature mysticism in contrast to a Dominican like St. Thomas Aquinas who wrote thousands of pages of intense, logical formulas. Yet, they are all part of the same Church. Two methods to the same destination, as Chesterton suggests in his books on Aquinas and Francis (now in one handy volume).

Hans Küng opened my eyes to this in The Catholic Church: A Short History. He argued that these could easily have been breakaway movements. Their practice and sometimes even their theology differed sharply with the established Church. However, flexible Church leadership at the time recognized that there was no reason that these movements should break away. The Dominicans and Franciscans could be within the Church and reflect a particular charism--a different style of practicing their Christianity with different emphases, but not out of communion with everyone else.

It would surprise a lot of Catholics today to realize that Francis could have been the first Protestant--the differences were strong enough to warrant it. But Pope Innocent III realized there was another approach: Unity in diversity.

The benefit to the whole Church is that we are all influenced by their wonderful example. It is a wild and crazy church where a poor, begging Franciscan can sit in the pews next to the persuasive Dominicans and the pomp and circumstance of the hierarchy. Francis is your crazy hippie uncle, not a bitter rival! Besides, you know deep down that Francis--like your hippie uncle--is really onto something. There is no need to break communion over this, but rather to learn from each other and balance each other out.

A Model of Christian Unity?

The concept of a charism will be a better way to describe denominational differences as the future unfolds. People simply do not split off into different denominations over minutiae of theology, like they used to do. The days when mutual shunning and restrictions on even attending the service of another denomination are winding down.

Are you really going to change your church affiliation based on whether you believe the Holy Spirit emanates from the Father and Son or just the Father? The theological arguments over each of those would leave most people scratching theirs heads wondering what the big deal is. It is hard to believe that at one time half of Europe went once way and half the other over this very issue--this being a key reason for the Catholic-Orthodox schism (the issue is naturally more complex than that, and has more to do with how the Church makes decisions as a body as well as other political differences, but it has been oversimplified as an argument over the nature of the Holy Spirit).

The truth is also that most theological differences between denominations have been largely reconciled. It's not that there aren't differences, it's that the differences probably wouldn't be enough to warrant a split in today's terms. Even among Catholics, Anglicans, Lutherans and Orthodox, quite a bit has been ironed out. The splits remain largely over institutional tensions--most of these Churches are simply not going to submit to the authority of each other at this point.

I would guess that among Protestants, people don't really choose their denominational allegiance based on strict theological beliefs, anymore. I can't imagine a Presbyterian converting to the Methodist church because of some profound change in theology. Those kinds of conversions have more to do with an attraction to the tradition of the faith and the charism it manifests--the parts of the gospel it emphasizes and the way it does community. In Catholic terms, this wouldn't technically be a conversion--just a shift from one group with their own approach and style to another--like a Franciscan becoming a Dominican. Same Church, different order.

Church practices reflect this: You can be ordained a Presbyterian minister after attending a Methodist seminary, even with a modest smattering of Presbyterian professors. Then what does it mean to be Presbyterian? What is the essence of Presbyterianism in such an environment? Mainline Protestants aren't really separate religions--they are better understood as different charisms under the umbrella of Protestantism--or perhaps better said--under Christianity.

I apologize if I misrepresent how things work among Protestants, but my overall point is that I see a general movement away from denominational separation, which raises the question: What does denominational identity mean?

Even if all the denominations were 100% reconciled theologically, we would not necessarily lose the identity of our respective traditions. We can all come to table as Christians with different charisms--an approach to spirituality that respects our unity but also provides flexibility to interpret the Christian call in different ways. Protestants show us how to have a personal relationship with Scripture. The Orthodox remind us of our roots as a unified church that once made decisions more unilaterally. Anabaptists keep us from forgetting the gospel call of radical simplicity. Catholics remind us of the Passion of Christ, Protestants Pentecost.

The true power of these different charisms shows itself not when we stay apart, but when we come together. In other words, we need both unity as well as diversity at the same time. We can--and perhaps should--stay in our private orders, honing our spiritual gifts. Let the monks live in meditative contemplation and the Lutherans in scientific biblical scholarship. Just imagine the power in the room when these people come together so strongly rooted in one charism but tied together in Christian unity.

As a Catholic, let me tell you we have benefited from the diversity in our tradition. We aren't all monks who live in quiet meditation, but every time you enter a Catholic Church you can feel their influence on all of us. The Dominicans remind us that we need to get the details right. The Franciscans remind us to let some of the details go. They're both correct, and I'm glad they are both here. I wish you all were here, too.

While each of us may want to follow Christ's call in a particular way, we need to remember that we all share the same faith. A denominational identify should be more about the style of worship and the kinds of ministries practiced, not a matter of who's valid as a Christian and who isn't.


(In addition to the authors mentioned, thanks also to Jackie for contributions brought up in conversation.)