The power of Christ and the Feast of the Chair of Saint Peter

On April 19, 2005, I was in the fifth of my six years of seminary formation,  serving as an intern at a rural parish in the northeastern part of the Archdiocese of Detroit. That morning, I was to accompany my pastor to a vicariate clergy meeting at a nearby parish.

An ecclesial event of even greater importance was happening in Rome that day. It was the second day of the papal conclave that took place after the death of Pope St. John Paul II earlier that month. It turned out also to be the last day of the conclave. The white smoke rose from the chimney of the Sistine Chapel and the preparations were made for the introduction of our new holy father. All the priests present huddled around the television just in time to hear:

Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum:

HABEMUS PAPAM!

Eminentissimum ac reverendissimum Dominum,

Dominum Iosephum Sanctæ Romanæ Ecclesiæ Cardinalem Ratzinger,

Qui sibi nomen imposuit Benedicti decimi sexti.

At the moment the name “Ratzinger” was pronounced, three things happened in rapid succession:

• First, my heart was immediately filled with pumped-up-itude. This was exactly the result I had been hoping and praying for.
• Second, at the very summit of my triumph, a pastor present let out an audible groan and made his disappointment clear to the assembled priests.
• And, third, in reaction to his reaction, I became troubled and somewhat scandalized.

To this priest’s credit, he approached me several years later at a clerical function and apologized to me for his reaction that morning. He told me what a good pope he thought Benedict XVI had been. I have rarely seen a priest so humble and apologetic, and I was truly edified.

Looking back at the contrasting reactions this priest and I had at the election of Pope Benedict, a few thoughts occur to me (here comes another list of three things):

• First, it only stands to reason that each of us will have opinions about individual popes, insofar as they are all individuals with unique sets of strengths and weaknesses, as well as distinct personalities, pastoral approaches, and points of emphasis.

• Second, our enthusiastic or critical stances toward certain particular traits of any given pope must always be subordinate to our respect and filial charity towards both the office and the person of the Holy Father.

• Third, and most fundamentally, we must remain steadfast in faith, trusting that the Lord Jesus is present and active in His Church and in His vicar, the pope. I don’t mean in every pope’s every word and action. Even the job performance of St. Peter was susceptible to criticism on certain points. Just ask St. Paul. But I do mean that we must never discount the power of Christ’s presence in His Church and her popes.

We have to admit, however, that there are times in the Church’s history when the sailing seems smooth and fidelity seems relatively easy, and other times when we feel put to the test. For example, the priest I referred to earlier felt put to the test by the election of Pope Benedict. And I trust that it was his fidelity to the Lord and the Petrine Office helped to bring him around, and not just the fact that he happened to like what the pope was saying or doing.

It would be foolish to deny that today many are feeling put to the test in various ways, with so many vital theological and pastoral questions being debated all over the Universal Church. Many of our people, and I suspect no small number within our own community, would like to have the security that goes with having things settled, with having things well, thoroughly, and clearly articulated.

We may at times be tempted to feel as the disciples felt in the storm on the Sea of Galilee, when they feared they were perishing as Jesus slept in the boat. We can be tempted to feel that the storms surrounding us pose a mortal threat. We can be tempted to forget that Jesus is with us, or become discouraged because He seems to be asleep.

There is a great story about Julius Caesar that may help us here. Once Caesar was making the crossing from Durazzo, in modern-day Albania, to the Italian town of Brindisi. The captain of the boat he was riding in became afraid, however, because of a great storm that whipped up in the Adriatic Sea. Seeing the man’s trepidation, Caesar said to him, “Take courage, my friend, take courage and have no fear. Caesar is your passenger, and Caesar’s fortunes are your freight.”

Now, for Julius Caesar, such a declaration may have been the boasting of an egomaniac. Or perhaps he had a God-given sense that death at sea was simply not his destiny that day. I don’t know which it was.

But for those of us who are passengers on the Barque of Peter, the Catholic Church, our confidence is infallibly well-founded, because the Divine Passenger Who accompanies us is inviolable.

No matter what storms rage around us, no matter how much water the Ship of Salvation seems to take on, the Lord is always with us. He promises to take care of us. And He has more than enough power to make good on His promises.

Christ is always present in His Church (cf Matt 28:20), He is present in His vicar on earth (cf LG, 3), and He is especially present to us in the Holy Eucharist, offered and received at every celebration of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass (CCC 1324). Whatever troubles our hearts, whether those troubles concern the Church, the world, our families, or our own vocations, we must not be terrified, must not be among those “of little faith.”

Instead, we pray and we trust. We discern when true obedience requires us to voice our concerns, and when we do better to remain silent. And we find peace in the firm conviction that Christ, the Son of the living God, is here among us and that He is the Lord of all things. He has built His Church up upon the rock of Saint Peter and his faith. May we persevere in the faith of the Church until death, until that moment described by St. Peter: “When the chief Shepherd is revealed, you will receive the unfading crown of glory” (1 Peter 5:4).