book reviews

Canon law is a service

CANON LAW AS MINISTRY. Freedom and Good Order for the Church. By James A. Coriden (Paulist Press, 997 Macarthur Blvd., Mahwah, NJ 07430, 2000), 224 pp. PB $14.95.

Since the promulgation of the Code of Canon Law by Pope John Paul II on January 25, 1983, many commentaries on the code and various parts of it have been published. These have been useful to the clergy, the laity in their various apostolates, and the general public. Many readers who did their seminary training at the time when the 1917 code was the ius vigens will recall the authors of the classical commentaries which served as textbooks in seminaries. They will probably always be remembered by the paired names of their authors: Woywood-Smith, Buscaren-Ellis, and Abbo-Hannon, to name just three.

Father James A. Coriden has spent forty years as a canonist and teacher of canon law. He is the author of many books and articles. Father Coriden has tried to write for both the professional canonist and those whose interest in this field is merely passing. The author of the work reviewed here is also one of the three general editors of the New Commentary on the Code of Canon Law and the author of An Introduction to Canon Law and The Parish in Catholic Tradition. These works have been of great help to the clergy, students, and the lay faithful.

The present work’s specific focus is that of canon law as a ministry within the Church. In that sense, Father Coriden is very anxious to see canon law as part of theology, or as the Code itself calls it, an ecclesiastical science. In other words, the author does not see canon law as something that can be separated from the life and ministry of the Church. In this emphasis, the work is very useful because, as we all know, canon law has often had a bad reputation in the Church as overly legalistic and as an instrument of control. Perhaps Our Lord’s woes to the Pharisees and doctors of the law was the beginning of this misunderstanding of law. This context also serves as a reminder to our litigious society that canon law must always be seen in its ecclesial context.

At the same time Father Coriden also shows that canon law’s other principal purpose is to maintain good order within the Church.

Father Coriden presents the role of law within the Catholic Church as a guarantee of freedom for individual believers. In this it will serve as a very concrete reminder that a principal reason that law exists is to protect individuals. Since the promulgation of the new code we have become more aware of this as many lay faithful and lay societies have taken on ecclesiastics in the desire to have their rights vindicated. Certainly, Father Coriden’s book will serve to remind pastors of souls that they cannot ride rough-shod over their flock and to take seriously the rights that the Code gives to all the faithful both clergy and layfaithful.

Father Coriden spends a great deal of time addressing the issue of the power of governance as exercised by the lay faithful. He presents this in the overall context of authority as participative. One of the great riches of Lumen Gentium has been the rediscovery of the sacramentality of the Church. It is in that context that canon 129, the canon on the exercise of jurisdiction, must be understood.

The fundamental problem is not whether or not the layfaithful may exercise jurisdiction. The Preliminary Explanatory Note 2 of LG makes clear that the exercise of potestas in the Church does not exclusively depend on the munera received in Holy Orders. The Council affirms that by virtue of Holy Baptism the lay faithful also have “the capacity of being appointed by the hierarchy to some ecclesiastical offices with a view to a spiritual end.” However, this cannot be seen as some kid of power play. Rather must all power in the Church be seen in terms of service. Cooperation in the exercise of power is common in the governing activity of the Church; one need only think of the Roman Curia and the Diocesan Curia. The call to be of service is primary over the question as to who exercises power.

The work does evidence a particular school of thought within canonical circles that is not shared by all. For example, Father Coriden defines the Catholic Church as a part of “the People of God.” One would be hard pressed to find this definition in any of the Church’s magisterial documents. Father Coriden also accepts uncritically the historical notion that the papacy had evolved into an “absolute monarchy.” This reformation view may highlight certain abuses of power, but it must be kept in mind that these were precisely abuses, not theological norms. And finally, the work places an undue emphasis on authority as participative, again an emphasis not shared by all canonical schools.

As every pastor of souls is well aware, law is not an end in itself. It is an instrument which serves the Church in her saving mission. In placing law in this context, Father Coriden has provided a service for all those who work with Church Law. In being aware of the canonical emphases of the work, the reader will appreciate its general over all value.

Reverend James F. Pereda, J.C.D.
Tribunal, Diocese of Rockville Centre
Rockville Centre, N.Y.

From sacred to secular

THE VOICES OF MOREBATH: REFORMATION & REBELLION IN AN ENGLISH VILLAGE. By Eamon Duffy (Yale University Press, New Haven, Conn. 06511, 2001), 190 pp. PB $22.50.

The Voices of Morebath is a skillfully constructed picture of St. George Parish in Morebath, England, during its immediate pre-and post-Reformation life. The data are culled from the scrupulously kept Wardens’ Accounts of Sir Christopher Trychay, pastor from 1520 to 1574, and analyzed in light of the historical events affecting Church life during that turbulent period in English Christianity. Author Eamon Duffy, a preeminent scholar of the Reformation, shows how the radical change from a pre-Henrecian and Edwardian sacred vision of life to a more secular approach led to diminished stewardship and financial ruin for Morebath.

Three areas in particular, according to Duffy, reflected the changed focus. First, symbolically, but quite tellingly, beginning in 1538, Sir Christopher’s method of dating the parish accounts was no longer cast in light of the liturgical year, i.e., holy seasons or feast days. Instead, time was now marked by the reign of the monarch.

Second, the reformers’ suppression of the cult of the saints eliminated the parish stores or societies, which served the twofold purpose of devotion and fundraising. The stores had provided viable avenues for community building by sponsoring religious festivals and processions honoring their patrons. The income from these activities went to the maintenance of the Church and the various shrines within it. With the Protestantizing of the ritual life of the parish, the stores no longer had a purpose for existence and the broad participation of the parishioners in the life of Morebath came to an end. So, too, did a very important source of parish income evaporate.

Third, with the introduction of The Book of Common Prayer (1539), the transcendent nature of the Mass was lost. The high altar was removed and replaced with a supper table and a presider’s chair. The centrality of the sacraments receded and the common reading of the Bible took their place. The loss of the belief in the efficacy of the Mass for the deceased souls in Purgatory and the de-emphasis on the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist eliminated the need and desire for its daily celebration. This caused the Church’s spiritual power to be drastically compromised. Due to the loss of the community’s sacramental vision, the defining role that the Church and its priesthood once played in the life of the people came to an end.

Consequently, there was a precipitous drop in ordinations throughout England, implying that priesthood was regarded as superfluous. The reported data may provide some insight as to the current dearth in priestly vocations and perhaps may even suggest a remedy.

Duffy’s thesis as to the importance of the traditional cult for a healthy parish is borne out by data showing a resurgence of community life and financial stability with the restoration of the old faith from 1553-1558 under the Catholic Queen Mary. Perhaps a parallel can be drawn to some contemporary parishes’ rejuvenation with the reintroduction of Eucharistic devotion, especially Perpetual Adoration. Mary’s death, however, caused a return to Protestantism under her half-sister Elizabeth. The data indicate that St. George Parish once again began to flounder and the ledger was again in the red.

Duffy reports that Sir Christopher showed some resistance to the reforms by delaying their implementation and by supporting a revolt in a neighboring parish. Yet, in the end, he did acquiesce. Duffy muses as to why an intelligent and traditional man like Sir Christopher, who could clearly see the consequences of the new religion in the Wardens’ Accounts, would have seemingly come to terms with the reforms by the end of his life. Duffy simply opines that “his (Trychay’s) religion was the religion of Morebath,” which can be interpreted to mean that metaphysical truth was secondary to his psychological need for the identity that Morebath afforded him. One has to see in Trychay’s submission a possible explanation for some of the questionable renovations of churches and innovations in the liturgy that have been implemented by modern-day pastors despite their detrimental effects on the faith. Psychologists and anthropologists tell us that cultic acts shape people’s perceptions of reality. The Reformation stripped the Church of its sacramental imagination and turned it into an agency of the state. In that process, the Church lost its transcendent purpose and the power it once held in people’s lives. Although there were some martyrs willing to defend the ancient truths, they were few in number. That is not to say that the majority were cowards. Rather, in light of Duffy’s research, it certainly seems that the faith of most pastors was more culturally conditioned rather than transcendent.

The astute reader will find that The Voices of Morebath is not only speaking of the past but is also talking to us today. The events recorded 450 years ago seem to what has happened in some present-day churches that have replaced the traditional cult with a secular agenda. Duffy’s analysis may help explain the impotence of the contemporary Christian churches and why there are so many empty pews.

Rev. Michael P. Orsi
Ave Maria School of Law
Ann Arbor, Mich.

The house of God

UGLY AS SIN. By Michael S. Rose (Sophia Institute Press, Box 5284, Manchester, NH 03108, 2001), 239 pp. HB $24.95.

We human beings, composed of spirit and matter, during our sojourn on this earth of time and space, of necessity erect buildings in which we live, work, play and worship. The shape and design of buildings influences us perhaps more than we realize. Some buildings are beautiful and some are ugly. It is pleasant if a factory is beautifully built, but we are not distressed if it is irregular and unappealing.

But when it comes to a church, we expect it to be different from houses and factories. We expect a church to be impressive, to have proportion, to be stately, to say something about the faith of the people who worship in it. In a word, we expect a church to radiate the sacred—to say something about God. St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City does that. For decades it has been and still is one the main points of attraction for visitors to the huge city. The same is true of the great cathedrals in Europe, such as those in Paris, Chartres, Seville and Cologne.

Author Michael S. Rose points out in his book that there are three natural laws of church architecture: 1) verticality, 2) permanence, and 3) iconography. Verticality helps raise the mind and heart to God—to rise above the profane and earthly; permanence, such as a church made out of large stones or granite, communicates to the viewer and worshiper that God is forever, that he is outside of time; iconography, through pictures, statues and stained-glass windows, teaches the basics of the faith. We find those three laws realized in the great cathedrals.

Unfortunately, they are found lacking in many modern churches. What we find is bare “worship space” that can also be used as a lecture hall, a dance hall or a sporting facility. The main point that Rose makes in his book is that there is a theology behind the modern architecture that is not Catholic. The church, as a house of God, should reflect the belief of those who worship in it. Rose maintains that, since many modern churches preach a false theology, they are theologically ugly—ugly as sin.

After explaining the three natural laws of church architecture, Rose applies them to each important part of a church: facade, entrance, nave, pulpit, confessionals, choir loft, sanctuary, altar, windows, religious art. In each case he shows that the traditional Catholic church teaches some aspect of the faith. Then in the third chapter he shows that many of these things are lacking in modern churches, that is, they lack verticality, permanence, and iconography. One obvious irritant is the difficulty in some churches of finding the tabernacle with the Blessed Sacrament.

In the fourth chapter the author goes into the theology behind the modern churches. He finds it defective in many ways; often it reflects a Protestant emphasis on the individual rather than on the majesty of God. He says that “bad theology has done more damage than bad taste” (p. 135). Meaning is not conveyed through structure or art: “Verticality, permanence, and iconography give way to the horizontal, ephemeral, and iconoclastic. Goodness, beauty, and truth become evil, ugliness, and deceit” (p. 172).

In the last chapter Rose gives some positive suggestions on what should be done in order to restore Catholic churches to their original beauty and meaning. The book concludes with an extensive bibliography, the names and addresses of recommended Catholic architects, and a glossary of church architecture terms which explains such words as “narthex.”

The theology of architecture is an important and intriguing subject which is handled masterfully by Michael S. Rose. An attractive feature of this book is the abundance of clear, beautiful photographs which illustrate the various points the author is making. When I asked him about the pictures, he told me that he took most of them himself. The pictures make it easier to understand what he is writing about.

Ugly As Sin is easy to read and most informative. If you are disturbed about renovations in your church and do not understand why the changes were made, Rose’s book will enlighten you. If you have the good fortune to attend a truly beautiful Catholic church and love your church, then the book will help you to understand why the church is beautiful and uplifting for the soul. Accordingly, the book is highly recommended for those who want to know something about church architecture.

Kenneth Baker, S.J.
Ramsey, N.J.

The spiritual combat

JOHN CASSIAN: THE INSTITUTES. Translated and annotated by Boniface Ramsey, O.P. (The Newman Press/Paulist Press, 997 Macarthur Blvd., Mahwah, NY 07430, 2000), 287pp. HB $34.95

John Cassian, who once lived in a Palestinian monastery and who also visited Egyptian monasteries, wrote The Institutes to assist Castor, a French bishop, establish monastic life in his diocese. We are indebted to Father Boniface Ramsey, O.P. not only for a most readable translation of this fifth century Latin spiritual classic but also for his enlightening annotations.

Even before his own preface and introduction, Father Ramsey furnishes both the abbreviations of scholarly reference books which he cites in his notes as well as “a list and explanation of some terms used throughout the Institutes.” After the title of every book, he presents the topic of each chapter. At the end of his translation of Cassian’s preface and of each of the work’s twelve books, he provides a scriptural reference for every quote or allusion as well as his notes to the text. Lastly, at the end of his volume he offers an index of scriptural citations and allusions listed according to biblical works which identifies the book and chapter of the Institutes where they are found.

The first three books of the Institutes are concerned with externals. Book One, for example, explains that the garb of a monk signifies that he is a soldier of Christ “ever ready for battle.” Books two and three deal with the recitation of the nighttime and daytime office.

Book Four—the Institute of the Renunciants—is a transition to Books Five to Twelve, which focus on the interior struggle against the capital sins. This book illustrates that patience and humility were necessary for admittance into the monastery and that obedience was the sine qua non for any monk. To be admitted one had to lie outside for ten days or more, suffer rebuke and be “visited with numerous reproaches and insults.” Once in the community the young monk strove to accomplish everything that his elder commanded without discussion “as it were ordained from heaven by God.”

The seven capital sins, which are recalled by the mnemonic “places g,” are: pride, lust, anger, covetousness, envy, sloth and gluttony. Instead of envy, which engenders sadness over the success of another, Cassian substitutes sadness itself. Reminding us that the world’s sadness works death, he encourages us to think of the blessedness of eternal life.

Cassian also deals with vainglory separately from pride. Seeking the empty glory of men is a multiform evil, which constantly changes shape after being defeated. Speaking of this evil, he says: “For in no other way is it enlivened than by the virtuous successes of the one whom it assails.” He recommends our remembering the words of the psalmist, i.e., “The Lord has scattered the bones of those who please men” (Ps. 53:5).

Pride, says Cassian, is the destroyer of all virtues and has God for its adversary (cf. James 4:6, “God resists the proud”). Because pride induces us to act as if we do not need God, the remedy is humility strengthened by poverty.

Though this is a scholarly work, its essential value is that it provides souls striving for perfection with instruction and edification. The following remarks of Cassian, which give the reader a taste of its flavor, are its best advertisement. Instructing us on the remedy for lust, he writes “. . . the maladies of anger, sadness and impatience are healed by a meditative heart and by constant watchfulness but also by involvement with the brothers and by their continual challenges, and when they are frequently shown to be active and are often rebuked they quite speedily find their way to health. But this disease requires solitude and distance, along with affliction of body and contrition of heart, so that, once the dangerous fever of seething emotions has passed, a state of integral health may be acquired.”

In a justly celebrated passage on carrying the cross of Christ, he puts these words of edification in the mouth of the Abba Pinufius: “And just as one who is fixed to the gibbet of the cross no longer contemplates present realities or reflects on his own affections; is not distracted by worry or care for the morrow, is not stirred up by the desire for possessions; is not inflamed by pride or wrangling or envy; does not sorrow over present slights and no longer remembers those of the past; . . . so also it behooves us who have been crucified by the fear of the Lord to have died to all things . . . and to have the eyes of our soul set upon the place where we must hope that we shall go at any moment. In this way we shall be able to put to death all our fleshy lusts and feelings.”

On the journey to heaven the capital sins must be fought and conquered. In this spiritual combat, we do well to use Cassian’s guidance.

Fr. James Buckley, F.S.S.P.
Our Lady of Guadalupe Seminary
Denton, Nebraska

The myth of Galileo

GALILEO’S MISTAKE: THE ARCHEOLOGY OF A MYTH. By Wade Rowland (Thomas Allen, Toronto, Canada, 2001), 350 pp. HB $34.95.

The archbishop of Canterbury asked Albert Einstein, back in 1921, what implications he thought the Theory of Relativity held for theology. The great physicist replied, “None. Relativity is a purely scientific matter and has nothing to do with religion.” Had Galileo made such a simple and forthright reply to Pope Urban VIII some three centuries earlier, the popular myth involving Galileo, the alleged supremacy of science, and presumed anti-science attitude of the Church of Rome might never have emerged.

Galileo, however, was headstrong and insisted, unreasonably, that science is the sole avenue to truth. This is Galileo’s “mistake,” dogmatically arguing that only science provides the truth about nature. Yet popular intelligence has gotten things backwards, canonizing Galileo as a martyr to science while vilifying the Church as an unprogressive institution fearful of what science can bring to light. This “myth of Galileo as the paladin of truth and freedom opposing a venal and closed-minded Church,” the author asserts, “is untrue.” And the substance of the book is the establishment of this fact.

Wade Rowland’s extraordinary work sets the record straight and in so doing provides an important historical corrective that should gladden the hearts and enlighten the minds of interested Catholics. Although not an apologist for the Church, Rowland explains, logically and convincingly, that science is neither a unique mode of knowing, nor one that infallibly reveals the truth of things.

Science operates, as did Galileo, from theoretical models. “If it rains, the ground will be wet.” But if we begin with the empirical datum that the ground is wet, we cannot be certain that its cause is rain or some other cause (the sprinkler system, for example). If we refine our model and state that “If it rains, the ground will be uniformly wet,” our observations may appear to increase the probability that our theory is true, but cannot validate it absolutely. “The process of verification is a circular one, unsound in logic,” as Rowland explains. “The insights of reason are like words in a dictionary, each of which depends on some other entry inside the covers of that dictionary.” Human beings live mostly inside the covers of that dictionary.

There is a gap between theory and reality that reason alone cannot bridge. Here is another way of describing Galileo’s “mistake.” His world is a mechanistic one. As such, it is reductive and a serious threat to those other avenues to reality—intuition, feeling, faith, love —that the Church rightly defended. Galileo was actually “narrow-minded” in this regard whereas the Church was “broad-minded.” The clash between Galileo and the Church was not about Copernicus or astronomy or science, but whether science provides the only pathway to truth.

Rowland was drawn to the Galileo controversy because of his concern that the absolutization of science undermines the wisdom we need in order to live properly and to be humane to each other. Scientism creates an atmosphere in which people start looking like commodities or consumers. It foments a spiritual and existential dis-ease.

Rowland is a literary journalist who has the curiosity of a scholar. His book combines scholarship with an engaging narrative that takes the reader to the locations where Galileo lived and labored: Venice, Pisa, Siena, Florence, and Rome. His two traveling companions—a former student and hard-headed man of reason, together with an erudite Catholic nun—imbue the book with a lively and personal quality that makes the reader’s journey into the mind and times of Galileo easier and more enjoyable. Rowland has a gift for both narrative as well as for dialogue. And there are plenty of pictures.

The Galileo case is extremely complex; its tentacles reach back into the ancient world and forward into modernity. Galileo’s discoveries had not “fatally undermined the physics of Aristotle,” as Rowland contends. He did not understand Aristotle’s physics and presented a caricature that was easy to ridicule. It was not “ironic that Copernicus was not regarded as a heretic.” His work was presented as a “theory” and not as an uncompromisable truth. The book is not perfect, but what work that embarks on such a vast terrain could be?

Rowland has given us a personal and entertaining trip to Italy and into the world of a most controversial seventeenth-century thinker who, in his confrontation with the Church, forces us to think more deeply and more carefully about the boundaries between faith and reason. In deconstructing a myth, he has re-established a moral, namely, that science without an accompanying ethical vision, is dehumanizing.

Donald DeMarco
St. Jerome’s University
Waterloo, Ontario, Canada