Ecclesiastical or community power?

Catholic New Times, Nov 21, 2004 by Joelle Morgan

"Ecclesiology" n., from "ecclesia"; the church. "Logos": to speak of, words about.

These are terms that a professor of mine brings up for discussion weekly. Each time they cause me to cringe.

As a child, I clearly remember learning at school that "eglise" was the building, and that "eglise" was the institution--the capital letter for respect in French.

Perhaps it was from a teacher raised in Quebec before the Quiet Revolution, I can't recall. Where do the people fit in these categories? It was an early lesson in ecclesiology. As a teenager I had an experience of the "Eglise"--in the form of a local priest--meaning power-over my family. Another lesson in ecclesia.

My exposure to the Canadian Catholic Students Association and Call to Action in the U.S. taught me about Vatican II and the promise that "We are the church." A different lesson in ecclesia.

Unfortunately for roe, to speak of the "church" still means the "eglise." I might say the "magisterium" in English, that is the authority and power-over. That church is something that, in many ways, I have come to fear. I am comfortable with many church people, and even some priests, but the "eglise" still waits to get me if I speak out of line.

This ecclesiastical power to silence is what I think of when we are expected to discuss "ecclesiology" in class.

I say unfortunately, because I believe the church could be a beautiful and welcoming place. The plurality of the kinds of churches from the very beginning is such a gift; even within the sacred texts, there are many theologies. It is significant that the canon included so many voices in the recounting of Jesus' life story in the four Gospels.

Paul's letters show clearly the multiple directions of different communities as the early church struggled to discern its theology and ecclesiology. However, at some point, and I'm not strong enough in church history to say when, the church seems to have stagnated and become stuck with a singular doctrinal voice.

I remember Bishop Remi De Roo once saying to a group of students at a CCSA conference that the promises of Vatican II are far from fulfilled. This is a type of church that excites me--and seems to be in that space between "eglise" and" eglise"--where the people are. Personally, I am impatient for these changes to be fulfilled, because from what I have heard, this is a church in which I would feel welcomed.

But the changes that I see and hear about seem counter to the promises of which I've been told. And so this church seems to be something occurring outside of my realm--in a place where I have no voice or power. This "ecclesia" feels so set in stone that it has become again the "Eglise."

However, even in my times of feeling so separated, I do hold some hope. In a course on the post-colonial church in Canada, the professor spoke of a period of "post-Christendom" in church history. It's an interesting image, the church for over a thousand years having associated itself with those who hold "power-over" in society. Now, as we enter this new era, the church might associate, once again, more closely with the people I see Jesus "hanging with:" the poor, the lepers, the tax collectors, the queer folks, the women, the homeless, those living with AIDS--those on the margins. It is a promise for a wielding of a new kind of liberative power.

There is a different kind of power in the image of the one who was executed by the powerful occupying military. The one who died an outcast. So often I associate "power" with images of excessive wealth and riches, multinational corporations, CEOs with personal jets, people with power over others that is used at their expense and for personal gain. I have to admit this is an image that I struggle with in terms of the church's power as well. But it has great potential, especially in the "power" of the cross, to be transformed and to influence ways of thinking and being from the "underside," and so become the promised people's church.