The pastoral significance of Roger Haight

Catholic New Times, April 10, 2005 by Lynda Arbour

On Feb. 8, 2005, the Holy See published a notification about the book Jesus: Symbol of God, by Roger Haight S.J, warning that the work makes affirmations that are contrary to a core doctrine, the divinity of Christ. The 1999 book was written by the professor of systematic theology at Weston Seminary, who had previously lectured at Toronto's Regis College. As a consequence, Haight is "prohibited from teaching Catholic theology as long as his positions are not rectified so as to be in full conformity with the doctrine of the church," states the Vatican Notification, signed by Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger.

The Vatican has engaged in dialogue with the author since February 2000, pointing out the errors it found in the work and requesting that Fr Haight explain them, the Notification states.

In response to Haight's banning, the Catholic Theological Society of America (CTSA) affirmed the validity of a process of mutual correction between theologians and the Magisterium but said that Haight had long been engaged in open debate with colleagues and that the Vatican's intervention "undermines our ability as Catholic theologians to openly critique our colleagues ... and gravely threatens the process of serious systematic internal criticism which the Congregation and the bishops have long been encouraging. "For the CTSA, Haight's banning "unavoidably implies a negative judgment on a theologian's personal integrity and responsibility."

Here, CNT contributor, Lynda Arbour comments on the Haight affair.

Years ago I heard Roger Haight speak at a public lecture at Regis College. He disappointed me that night, not by the content of his formal presentation, his clarifying grasp of contextual theology--such as the new liberation theologies, feminist theology and eco theology. He was a priest whose spirituality was open to the world.

When I asked him to explain what holiness meant from this perspective, he responded with words from scripture: "Call no man holy. Only God is holy." He expanded this to include a psychological understanding of human wholeness.

Roger Haight was a priest living in a monastic context. I am a socially engaged laywoman for whom the spiritual aesthetic of a monastic lifestyle, no matter how entrancing, is not very helpful.

The central question for the thoughtful lay person is not just one's responsibility to influence culture and to transform life-thwarting social institutions, but how to reconcile this obligation with a spiritual tradition that has long privileged a life removed from the secular throng, one dedicated to the cultivation of the interior life through prayer and daily ritual observance. What of those values central to life in the marketplace but usually eschewed in an ecclesial world: the developmental challenges of a sexual life, a self-directed adult autonomy essential to leadership, a material life not linked to voluntary communitarian poverty?

I bought Roger Haight's books, but never read them until a year ago. Sine then, I have been trying to understand the significant shift that has occurred in the theological community regarding the historical Jesus and christology since I did my studies in the late sixties. I have changed my mind about the pastoral significance of Roger Haight.

Haight, now challenged by the Holy Office, teaches systematic theology at Union Theological Seminary in New York. He can no longer teach in a Catholic seminary. In my third reading of Haight's reformulation of what we mean when we say that Jesus is both human and divine, I see that he is addressing all the questions and concerns of Catholic people I know. I have read the Vatican's objections (to be found on their web site), and I wonder what intellectual universe these "guardians of the faith" are living in.

The Passion of the Christ, Mel Gibson's film attempt to come to terms with the meaning of Jesus for his own highly indulged life, highlights the very real suffering, humiliation and degradation that an innocent man endured. For many Christians, men and women struggling to allay the suffering and pain encountered in their own contexts, Gibson's emphasis, this particular lens, sounds a wrong note. Perhaps a temporary, emotional, seasonal, ritualistic identification with Jesus' suffering allays the guilt of an indulged bourgeois life, but it is not helpful for those drenched in a realization of the suffering of the world on a daily basis.

God's willingness to sacrifice his chosen one in a horrendous and unjust way to compensate for the sin of Adam (says Paul) or as a ransom for the many (says Anselm) is an inadequate explanation. Can you imagine a woman or a mother proposing this doctrine of atonement? Two millennia before Jesus, Abraham was also willing to sacrifice his son, his most precious possession. He was informed that this is not what God was seeking from him. Should this not have been the concluding word about human sacrifice?

We have had enough talk about sin. Even those of us who are certain of God's faithful and attentive presence in our lives, wonder about the suffering, unhappiness and emptiness that we witness daily around us. Where is the heart of God in all of this? Is relief in our hands? Haight begins his theological reflection profoundly aware of contemporary social evil, brought to us from every part of the world every day on the news. In the last 30 years, the historical Jesus has been illuminated by scripture scholars, first century historians, archeologists and anthropologists with a finer historical light than has previously been available. The world of Jesus is the starting point for understanding divinity. Haight focuses on the sum total of Jesus' actions, the unqualified response of his life in a community focused on healing, exorcising, and table fellowship, including the last event, his death and exaltation. This is how Jesus reveals the heart of God.