Mary Kenny
The Pontiff provides a practical purpose for universal faith, writes Mary Kenny
One of the main cultural and procedural differences – leave aside theology itself – between Catholicism and the ‘reformed’ faiths following on from Luther, and the establishment of the Church of England, is centred on Papal authority.
Lutheranism and Anglicanism both rebuffed the idea of a Pope, or a Magisterium, affirming instead the authority of conscience alone, and the liberty of faith based on Scripture.
Perhaps this was workable, in a way, when Anglicanism and Lutheranism were ‘national’ – actually, state – religions, because English Anglicans would share a common culture and respect similar values: as would German or Scandinavian Lutherans.
But now the Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, is discovering that when a faith develops a more international reach, there is a practical purpose in having a Papal figure.
Dr Welby – who was an oil executive before taking holy orders – has recently announced that he wants to set up an arrangement to keep the world-wide Anglican church together. There are 77 million Anglicans, many in territories once ruled by the British Empire. But they don’t, by any means, all think like English people. Great fissures have developed within world-wide Anglicans because Africans, for example, cannot accept western liberal innovations such as gay marriage.
Dr Welby is keen to “keep the family together”, as he puts it. He is suggesting a “loose structure” of spiritual unity whereby international Anglicans can share fellowship with the ‘mother’ church at Canterbury.
It will be an interesting experiment, but it surely illuminates the reason why any universal faith needs a Pontiff, and a source of authority.
If every culture just does its own thing, you have constant fragmentation and breakaways of breakaways, and the central focus gets entirely lost. ‘Keeping the family together’ requires leadership and coherence.
Morals going to the dogs
Do animals have a moral sense? The consensus among pet owners is that dogs do, but cats don’t. A dog will show a sense of guilt if he knows he has done something wrong. A cat doesn’t give a fig: I’ve been warned by felinophiles that it’s useless to try to teach a cat any form of morality, because cats just suit themselves: they’re amoral. (And it’s been noted there are no cats in the Bible.)
But the latest intelligence from animal psychologists is that neither dogs nor cats (nor other pets) have any “moral” sense. What dogs, especially, have developed is a canny ability to mimic emotions like “guilt”, because they can figure out that they’ll get deprived of treats (or be punished) if they rip up the furniture or do what they shouldn’t.
The “hang-dog” expression that your pooch has perfected is all dog-acting.
I’m not sure. My uncle Jim, a caninophile, always said “a dog can read your thoughts”. And they can perhaps pick up a moral sense from such telepathy.
Radicalised in reaction to secularism?
The head of British Intelligence, Andrew Parker, gave an interview to the BBC last week about the threat of terrorism from extremist Islamic groups. He said that at least six terrorist plots had been foiled in the UK in recent times.
He greatly lamented that the radicalised British jihadists who are joining the so-called ‘Islamic States’ have been educated in ordinary British schools, where the ethos is moderate and often secular.
Perhaps this is a point which might be raised at the forthcoming Iona Institute talk in Dublin on October 15 on the future of denominational education, chaired by Martin Mansergh. Certain British Muslims have become terrifying Jihadists even though they did not attend faith schools. They were radicalised sometimes in reaction against secularism. Discuss, indeed.
