The following article is a series I wrote during the early months of the blog. I think it worth reprinting (surely people aren’t going back to read everything I’ve written). It is also available in the “Pages” section of the blog. As the Sunday of the Cross is this weekend, I offer this as a meditation for that event.
Writing to the young Timothy (first letter) St. Paul gives this homey admonition:
These things write I unto thee, hoping to come unto thee shortly: But if I tarry long, that thou mayest know how thou oughtest to behave thyself in the house of God, which is the church of the living God, the pillar and ground of the truth.
Paul does not then go on to give us several chapters’ explanation of ecclesiology, expounding and unpacking the phrase, “pillar and ground of the truth.” The phrase simply hovers as a statement of fact beckoning the brave to “come up higher.”
Some have done so over the years: most famously in modern times Paul Florensky’s book by that very title – a massive tome of writing by the mathematician/mystic/theologian who is himself often as enigmatic as he is interesting.
Being Orthodox means living with words like “pillar and ground of truth.” Or singing gleefully in a liturgy, “We have seen the True Light, we have found the true faith.” In the wrong hands such words can be dangerous indeed. They are true enough, but such truth can be uttered well only as praise to the Living God, rarely as apologetics or as “war words” in our confused scene of Christianity. Uttered in “battle” (if the little dust-ups that occur hither and yon can be called such) these words take on the fearful character of “that by which we will be judged” (Matthew 12:36).
The insanity of modern American Christianity is the product of sola scriptura, poor or no ecclesiology, and the entrepreneurship of the American spirit. Thus almost every Christian group that exists has something excellent to say about itself (like so many car dealerships). The perfect ratiocination of Reform theology, an Infallible Pope with a Magisterium, or the perfections of an invisible Church (really, how can you discuss an invisible Church?) Even Anglicans, born of divorce and compromise (I know they don’t like to say it like that in Anglican seminaries, but it’s history), can brag about Via Media, or today, “Inclusivity.”
Into this playing field of discussion come the Orthodox. We are familiar with Pillar and Ground of Truth, True Light, True Faith, Fullness, etc., words of excellence and perfection. Of course, as soon as they are uttered, gainsayers will point to everything about us that appears less – and there is so much at which to point (our messy jurisdictionalism, internal arguments, etc.) People who have mastered cut-and-paste functions on their computer can quote concatenations of the fathers proving that our Pillar and Ground of Truth was always sitting in Rome. What’s an Orthodox boy (or girl) to do?
I do not think we give up conversation, but we have to be aware of the nature of our conversation. We utter “Pillar and Ground of Truth,” etc. “in a sacred mystery.” Pulled out of its context (that is the living Church) and placed in argument, the phrase becomes words weakened by every other word we have ever spoken, and particularly the actions we have performed or failed to perform. Such phrases are no less true, but they were never meant as offensive weapons (except perhaps in spiritual warfare).
I would start, as an Orthodox boy, with the fact that everyone who is Orthodox has agreed to “deny himself, take up his cross and follow Christ.” The ecclesiology of the Orthodox Church, the Pillar and Ground of Truth, is found precisely in its weakness and is found there because God wants it that way. If salvation means loving my enemies like God loves His enemies, then I am far better served by my weakness than my excellence. If humility draws the Holy Spirit, then my weakness is far more useful than any excellence I may possess.
The Orthodox Church has perhaps the weakest ecclesiology of all, because it depends, moment by moment, on the love and forgiveness of each by all and of all by each. Either the Bishops of the Church love and forgive each other or the whole thing falls apart. “Brethren, let us love one another, that with one mind we may confess: Father, Son and Holy Spirit.” These are the words that introduce the Creed each Sunday, and they are the words that are the bedrock of our ecclesiology.
We live in a wondrous age of the Church. Having suffered terrible blows at the hands of the Bolsheviks, we were smashed into jurisdictions (they don’t really start until the 1920’s), and often turned on one another in our rage. Today, the Bolshevik has been consigned “to the dustbin of history.” Moscow and the Russian Church Outside of Russia are actually going to gather at the Lord’s table together. We still have the spectre of a powerful Patriarch of Constantinople bumping into a powerful Patriarch of Moscow here and there, first in Estonia, then in London, who knows where next.
But in each and every case the only ecclesiology that will work, that will reveal the Church to be the Pillar and Ground of the Truth will be an ecclesiology of the Cross: mutual forgiveness and abiding love. This will be the Church’s boast: that it became like Christ in all ways; or it will have no boast at all.
I rejoice that I am alive in such a time as this. We stand at the edge of an abyss. We can embrace each other in joy and forgiveness or fall into the abyss itself (I trust Christ’s promise to keep us from such a misstep – though He has pulled us out of such places more than once). I rejoice because I don’t want anything other than to be conformed to the image of the crucified Christ. Let everybody else be excellent if they need to be. I need to die.
I suggested in my previous post on this topic that the Cross be a central part of our understanding of the Church. There is a natural tendency to compartmentalize in theology – it’s hard to think of everything all the time and everywhere. And yet, it is important that we always remember that our salvation is not a series of discreet, compartmentalized events and undertakings – our salvation is one thing. Thus it is never entirely appropriate to speak of the Eucharist as one thing, Confession as another, Christology as another, iconography as another, etc. – everything, all of our faith, is one. All is encompassed in the saving work of Christ. It is hard for us to think like this but it is important to make the effort.
I would like to suggest several points for reflection on the Cross and the Church:
1. The self-emptying of God on the Cross, including his descent into Hades, is not accidental but utterly integral to understanding the saving work of Christ.
2. Any imitation of God, any conformity of our life to His, will involve this same self-emptying.
3. All discussion of the Church and its life, must include this self-emptying, not only of God, but of each of the members of the Church.
4. Every description of the various aspects of the Church would do well to include the self-emptying of God and the self-emptying of Christians in imitation of the God Who Saves.
Today, the first point:
1. When St. Paul writes of Christ’s “emptying” Himself (Phil 2:5-11), he is not describing something that is somehow alien to God, regardless of its profound irony. In Rev. 13:8 Christ is described as the “lamb slain from the foundation of the world.” Thus we cannot look at the Cross as an event that is somehow alien to God. Rather, it is a revelation of Who God Is, perhaps the fullest revelation that we receive.
Christ speaks of his crucifixion, saying, “for this cause came I unto this hour” (John 12:27). Other aspects of Christ’s ministry, even His revelation of the Father to the world, should not be separated from the event of the Cross. In His self-emptying, Christ reveals the true character God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Writing about this self-emptying (kenosis), Fr. Nicholas Sakharov describes its place in the teachings of the Elder Sophrony:
The eternal aspect of Christ’s kenosis is perceived in the framework of the kenotic intratrinitarian love. Fr. Sophrony remarks that before Christ accomplished his earthly kenosis, “it had already been accomplished in heaven according to his divinity in relation to the Father.” The earthly kenosis is thus a manifestation of the heavenly: “Through him [Christ] we are given revelation about the nature of God-Love. The perfection consists in that this love humbly, without reservations, gives itself over. The Father in the generation of the Son pours himself out entirely. But the Son returns all things to the Father” (I Love Therefore I Am, 95).
Indeed, in this understanding we would say that this self-emptying is not only integral to Christ’s saving work, but to the revelation of the Triune God. Thus when we say, “God is love,” we understand that God pours Himself out: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. It is into this life of self-emptying that we are grafted in our salvation. We lose our life in order to save it. This is no reference to a single act, but to the character of the whole of our life as it is found in Christ. “I am crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live” (Galatians 2:20).
Tomorrow: the second point, “Any imitation of God, any conformity of our life to His, will involve this same self-emptying.”
Following earlier posts on this subject, I take up the second of four points:
2. Any imitation of God, any conformity of our life to His, will involve this same self-emptying [as the self-emptying of God on the Cross].
There is a tendency when we think of the Church to think in institutional terms – to speak of hierarchies, the role of Bishops, etc. Scripture uses a variety of images for the Church: the body of Christ, the messianic banquet, the pillar and ground of the truth, etc.
But of course, one simple reality of the Church abides and colors all of our experience: we are human beings in relationship with God and with other human beings who are part of the Church. That relationship, whether characterized in Eucharistic terms, or the language of the body of Christ, is still always quite relational (excuse the tautology). This inescapable fact makes it necessary for us to keep this aspect of the ecclesial life before us at all times.
What then does it mean for us to be in relationship? St. Paul, in his famous discourse on the Church as the body of Christ (1 Corinthians 12-13), focused on its most central aspect in the very core of that discourse. Chapter 13 of 1 Corinthians is the great chapter of love (agape). St. Paul subjugates all other concerns to that measure of reality. “If I have not love, then I am nothing” (13:2).
All too easily this passage is relegated to the category of ethics. (Recall that I noted in the last post it is all too easy to compartmentalize our thoughts about the Christian life). There is not an “ethics” department and an “ecclesiology” department. The ethics of 1 Corinthians is as much ecclesiology as Paul’s speech about the “body of Christ.” One is simply what the other looks like when it is actually lived.
The love of 1 Corinthians 13, is nothing less than the agapaic love of God – the love the Father has for the Son; the love the Son has for the Father; the love the Spirit has for the Father and the Son (and all the ways we may permutate those statements). Love is nothing other than the self-emptying of one person towards the other – it is the kenotic (emptying) relationship of one for the other that is the hallmark both of the intra-Trinitarian life as well as the life of the Church (how could the life of the Church be any different from the life of God?).
Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends…
This is as poetic and accurate a description of kenotic love as can be found in Scripture. This is synonomous with Christ’s claim that he does only that which He sees the Father doing (John 5:19). The Son empties Himself towards the Father and only does His will. The Father empties Himself towards the Son, and has given “all things into His hands” (John 13:3). The Spirit “does not speak of the things concerning Himself” (John 16:13), etc. These are not discreet revelations about intimate details of the Trinity, but are revelations of the very Life of God. Kenosis (self-emptying) is descriptive of each Person of the Trinity. It is in this that we speak of “God is love.” For greater love cannot be measured than that we “lay down our life for our friends.”
Thus when we come to speak of our life in the Church, St. Paul characterizes it by this same act of kenotic love. We do not look towards our own good, but for the good of the other. We “weep with those who weep” and “rejoice with those who rejoice.” Our lives in the Church are not marked by centers of activity and importance (individuals) who then negotiate with other centers of activity and importance for their respective positions. Such a model is a description of secular life (at its best) and Hell (at its worst).
That our membership in the Body of Christ begins by our Baptism into Christ’s death (Romans 6:3) and also includes Baptistm “into the Body of Christ” (I Corinithians 12:13) gives an explanation of the meaning of “Baptized into the Body.” To exist in the Body of Christ is to do so by existing in the death of Christ, as well as His resurrection. How this makes us “His body” is amplified when we see that “His death” is more than the event on Calvary, but the fullness of His divine self-emptying that was made manifest to us on the Cross of Calvary. We are Baptized into the self-emptying love of Christ, for this is the only way of life. If we are to be transformed “from one degree of glory to another” then it is towards the “glory” of the crucified, self-emptying Christ that we are being transformed. Deification (theosis) is also kenosis (self-emptying) for there is no other kind of life revealed to us in Christ.
Next: 3. All discussion of the Church and its life, must include this self-emptying, not only of God, but of each of the members of the Church.
And: 4. Every description of the various aspects of the Church would do well to include the self-emptying of God and the self-emptying of Christians in imitation of the God Who Saves.
We continue from our previous posts with the last two points:
3. All discussion of the Church and its life must include this self-emptying [of Christ], not only of God, but of each of the members of the Church.
4. Every description of the various aspects of the Church would do well to include the self-emptying of God and the self-emptying of Christians in imitation of the God Who Saves.
These last two points probably belong together as a single point – and so will be treated together in this posting.
The self-emptying of God, revealed to us on the Cross of Christ, is enjoined by the Apostle Paul to be the “mind” of the Church:
Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of god, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form he humbled [emptied] himself and and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross (Philippians 2:5-8).
Typical of the Apostle, even his most profound theological statements are integrated into the life of the church – for theology concerning Christ is not an abstraction or a theory to be discussed, but a revelation of the truth – both the truth of God and the truth of ourselves, inasmuch as we are His body. There is no proper division between our contemplation of the truth and our living of the truth.
In another place the Apostle writes:
Ye are our epistle written in our hearts, known and read of all men: Forasmuch as ye are manifestly declared to be the epistle of Christ ministered by us, written not with ink, but with the Spirit of the living God; not in tables of stone, but in fleshy tables of the heart (2 Corinthians 3:2-3).
Here, even the separation or distinctin between Church and Scripture is overcome! The Church, rightly lived, is itself the true interpretation of Scripture. Thus, when we speak of the self-emptying of Christ on our behalf, we must also live in a self-emptying manner towards one another and towards God.
The Church has often been described as a “Eucharistic Community,” and it is said that the Church is most fully manifest in the Divine Liturgy. But this is true only as the Church itself lives in a proper Eucharistic manner. Just as Christ pours Himself out for us to the Father, and the Father gives Himself to His Son, so all the members of the body of Christ must pour themselves out towards one another and towards Christ. We “empty ourselves” so that we might be the “fullness of Him that filleth all in all” (Ephesians 1:23).
This same self-emptying is also proper to the unity of the Church. The context for St. Paul’s writing of Christ’s self-emptying is precisely in a passage where he is concerned to speak of the unity of the Church.
Complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from selfishness or conceit, but in humility count others better than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself…(Philippians 2:2-7)
The unity of the Church is unimaginable without this mutual self-emptying. Indeed, such a unity (should there be one) would be without the mind of Christ, and thus would be a false unity.
As noted in the first post on this subject, the ecclesiology of the Orthodox Church is rooted in its weakness. Our imitation of the self-emptying love of Christ is precisely the weakness in which our ecclesiastical life is grounded. thus, though the Church has a hierarchy (a “holy order”), that order is not properly an earthly hierarchy, a ranking of privilege and power.
As Christ Himself warned His apostles,
You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great men exercise authority over them. It shall not be so among you; but whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave; even as the Son of man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many (Matthew 20:25-28)
Thus the primacy which exists in the Church is a “primacy of love,” not a primacy of coercion. St. Ignatius, in his letter to the Romans, referred to that Church as the one which “presides in love.” (Nicholas Afanassieff famously wrote an Orthodox essay on the Petrine ministry by this title).
However, just as our salvation is not properly seen as a juridical event, neither can the life of the church be seen as juridical in nature. To say this does not deny the concept of jurisdiction, nor the necessity of the church to make judgments and practice discipline within its life and the lives of its members, but it is to assert that such jurisdiction, judgment and discipline are not properly juridical in nature. Thus, depriving someone of Holy Communion, or deposing them from Holy Orders, is not rightly understood as a juridical action of the Church, but an action whose sole purpose is the healing of that member of the Church. God’s chastisement is for no purpose other than our salvation – how can the chastisement of the Church serve any other purpose?
The great difficulty in all of this is that the true life of the church, and thus all ecclesiology, is never anything less than miraculous. Ecclesiology cannot be a study of those things the Church “has to do” because it “lives in the world.” This would make the Church’s life one long compromise with “practicality” and declare that the life of God is trumped by some version of necessity. This kind of reasoning eventually yields the evil fruit imagined in Dostoevsky’s famous chapter, “The Grand Inquisitor.” The church is driven by no necessity other than the self-emptying love of God manifest in her life and in the life of all of her members.
This self-emptying life of God, understood as the life of the Church, is of particular importance for Orthodoxy. Here, there is very little of a juridical nature. Those who see Orthodoxy from the outside see this ecclesiological lack as a fundamental flaw in the life of the Orthodox Church. Instead, it is a fundamental faithfulness to the mind of Christ. But to live in such faithfulness requires that our lives be ever yielded to God. So soon as the Church turns away from God and the True Life which makes this self-emptying possible, so soon does the Church fall towards anarchy and strife. Church history is full of examples of such failures – just as it is full of examples of Christ’s faithfulness and promise to the Church to preserve it against the gates of hell. But each time the Church has been victorious over such stumbling, it has been because she returned to the path set forth by the self-emptying Christ.
Whatever dialog the Church has within itself (between “Churches” as the Orthodox would say) or with those with whom there is schism, the dialog must be rooted in the mind of Christ, the self-emptying love of God. This in no way calls for an ignoring of dogma, for dogma itself is but a verbal icon of Christ (to use a phrase of Fr. Georges Florovsky). But to “speak the truth in love” is to speak from within the mind of Christ, that is, from within His self-emptying love. There is no sin that such love does not heal, no emptiness that this Emptiness cannot fill. Our hope is in Christ, thus we shall not be ashamed (Romans 5:5).
Hi, Fr. Stephen. Thank you for posting this. I’ve only recently begun “studying” Orthodoxy, having spent my entire life in evangelicalism and in pastoral ministry in evangelical churches. The issue of the church’s “messiness” has been difficult for me. I never expected evangelical churches to be perfect, but they have been–in my experience, at least–consistently plagued by politics and power.
I left my last evangelical church nearly a year ago now. Despite my seminary degree and years of ministry, I knew next to nothing about the Orthodox Church just a few months ago. As I’ve been exploring, one of the questions I’ve been asking is whether the Orthodox are any less plagued by power and politics than evangelicalism.
I certainly understand the reality that we are broken human beings and need to live in love and forgiveness. However, I can’t escape Jesus’ words in Matthew 20:25-28:
“Jesus called them together and said, ‘You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave—just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.'”
I’d appreciate any wisdom or direction you can provide.
Thank you, Fr Stephen, for posting this. Living in Christ. . .so profound.
You can find any sin within Orthodoxy that you find outside of it. Human beings seem to sin and do so in very similar ways. There’s not a method or form of organization that prevents this.
My point in the article is to take us the true nature of the Church which is only revealed in the Cross. Orthodoxy can rightfully claim to be the historical Church founded by Christ and to have preserved continuity with itself through history. But that history presents us with broken human beings. The Cross is not God’s method to “fix” us, but to kill us. It “kills” us in Christ so that we might live in Christ.
What is true in Orthodoxy is everything God promised in the Church (“the Pillar and Ground of Truth”). But it only comes in the form of the Cross. There is no other route.
I have encountered real saints in Orthodoxy – amazing spiritual giants. But I’ve seen everything else, too. The sort of “comparative denominationalism” that we often engage in is delusional. There is the Cross.
I am Orthodox and no longer a Protestant because I recognize that this is the Cross Christ has set before us. This is also the source of grace and communion with the fullness of the truth. So, it’s worth everything it takes, in my opinion, to be Orthodox. But, with eyes wide open, it is the Cross.
Thanks, Fr. Stephen. I appreciate the perspective.
Thank you Father Stephen. I appreciate that you put in what “correction” is in this model (so to speak) and also wrote about speaking the truth in love.
I am re-reading Fr. Alexander Schmemann’s “For the Life of the World” these days (always something good to do I find). Something struck me recently — this is in section 4 of chap 2 on the Eucharist:
“But we are still at the very beginning. We have left ‘this world.’ We have come together. We have heard the announcement of our ultimate destination. We are the ecclesia, the response to this call and order. And we begin with ‘common prayers and supplications,’ with a common and joyful act of praise. Once more, the joyful charac3eer of the eucharistic gathering must be stressed. For the medieval emphasis on the cross, while not a wrong one, is certainly one-sided. The liturgy, before everything else, si the joyous gathering of those who are to meet the risen Lord and to enter with him into the bridal chamber. And it is this joy of expectation and this expectation of joy that are expressed in singing and ritual, in vestments and incensing, in that the whole ‘beauty’ of the liturgy which has so often been denounced as unnecessary and even sinful.”
I think self-emptying is a sort of flip-side of joy; I don’t think the one is properly or possibly done without the other. Joy defines life in Christ, an impossible joy. As a [very] limited human being, how is it possible for me to self-empty without it being nihilism if I don’t share in that joy — that “something other” that isn’t just a part of worldly experience? Frankly, I call that joy “beauty” as well, and I think Fr. Alexander is right to link the two. Beauty is the only way I can think of to describe its experience, although there is more to it than the word conveys in a surface sort of meaning. As to entertainment, I think the liturgy is a depth of experience that is not so far from the ancient plays and their religious connection to the ancient religion of the Greeks; it’s not just entertainment but a journey (as Fr. Alexander says), an internal journey we become experienced within (participation/communion). This is my experience anyway. I also have needed to learn about love through this process; I find that is what I self-empty *for*. I do not know this perfectly!
(My apologies for typos)
Just marvelous, Father!
Janine, there is a definite connection to the ancient Greek plays as a communal acknowledgement of the divine, but don’t press it too far. The Greek play festivals honored pagan deities and were not always sober.
That being said, the communal prayers and celebrations of many ancient and tribal civilizations have a liturgical quality to them such as the dances of Native Americans which I find to be a much closer cognate.
They all express in one way or another the presence and activity of the divine within the community and act to forge bonds with the divine.
However, they are not really incarnational and as participatory as the Divine Liturgy, perhaps one reason among many that what started out as corporate prayer and thanksgiving has degenerated into mindless entertainment.
Thank you Fr. Stephen.
I am neither a Theologian or an intellectual, but I understood and appreciated this blog.
I have spent my entire life in Evangelical Circles as well as the Charismatic Renewal. I am presently in Lay Ministry in the Anglican Church. But, I am actively on my personal journey into Orthodoxy through the many resources of Ancient Faith Radio and the mentorship of two Orthodox Priests, one locally (Ukrainian Orthodox) and one via email correspondence (Antiochian Orthodox).
Thanks Michael for your comment. Yes I was thinking of what culture our liturgy came out of via the transfiguration of everything through Christ. I suppose I was thinking of that phenomenon called sometimes “suspension of disbelief” in which we participate in what is being enacted. The very meaning of leiturgia of course is most important
In Part I you take a brief swipe at the Protestants, Catholics and Anglicans lumping them into what you call the “insanity of Modern American Christianity.” To a large degree I can see, broadly speaking, how the American protestants / evangelicals would fall into this as they are the product of the “American” experiment. Not sure I understand how the Catholic Church gets lumped into this mix as it is clearly not a product of Modern American Christianity, at least no more so than the Orthodox Church is. In the end I am not sure of the purpose or thought behind this as I do not see it adding to your overall focus on the need for the Church to be “self-emptying.” You then go on to say the following:
“The Orthodox Church has perhaps the weakest ecclesiology of all, because it depends, moment by moment, on the love and forgiveness of each by all and of all by each. Either the Bishops of the Church love and forgive each other or the whole thing falls apart.”
My question, if roughly a thousand years ago the Bishops of the Church, both Orthodox and Catholic, East and West, did not love and forgive each other has not the “whole thing” already fallen apart?
I struggle with this as I see very little difference between the two, Orthodox and Catholic. I readily admit I am no expert in Church history and my ignorance on this matter is probably apparent. I converted to the Catholic Church ten years ago. Before then I had never heard of the Orthodox Church. What I do know, which is still very limited, is mostly from your blog and few Orthodox books I have read. And I love what I have read and learned. I honestly do not understand the major differences between the two and it saddens me that this separation remains today.
Maybe this will eventually change for if I remember correctly, several years ago the Pope (not the current one) and one of the Patriarchs celebrated the liturgy together. But, none the less, until the two are reconciled in love and forgiveness, my question remains: how has it not already fallen apart?
Your questions are quite fair. The schism of 1054 is indeed a “falling apart,” and represented a failure of love. From an ecclesiological point of view, Catholicism began to substitute a more legal, managerial ecclesiology, in which submission to the papacy subsumed collegiality (sobornost). Orthodoxy has continued with its same, weak ecclesiology, deeply vulnerable and lacking the ability to coerce.
One quick correction – there has not been a concelebration of the liturgy between Pope and Patriarch, nor any form of communion. But there have been services of prayer.
Today, there is a great deal of love and forgiveness. What remains is the legacy of two very different understandings of many things, very hard to reconcile with integrity.
I agree my lumping American Catholics in with American Protestants is potentially problematic.