I'm in the middle of reading two books right now. One is a book length interview of Cardinal Robert Sarah (I understand it should be pronounced sar-AH), the Prefect of the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments. It's called God or Nothing, and in it he he speaks of his early life growing up in Guinea, his years in priestly formation, and his becoming archbishop during a turbulent time in his nation's history (the interview is more far reaching than a simple autobiography, but that's what I'm up to at this point). The second is Jesus and the Jewish Roots of the Eucharist: Unlocking the Secrets of the Last Supper by Brant Pitre, a professor of sacred Scripture at Notre Dame Seminary in New Orleans. Since the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ is coming up on Sunday, I'll say a few words about the latter book. I will have something to say about Cardinal Sarah's book soon, though.
I haven't finished either book, so I won't be offering an actual review or exhaustive critique Mr. Pitre's work. But I do have some first impressions.
As Catholics, and I'm guessing this is true of Christians in general, we tend to have an ambivalent attitude toward Judaism. After a tragic history of mistrust that saw the Christian majority in Europe oppress and segregate the Jews for centuries, and then having to come to grips with the unspeakable barbarism of the Holocaust, we have tended to at once come to appreciate our Jewish sisters and brothers, and their religious and cultural heritage, but we also want to simply leave them alone. I mean this in the sense that we fear adding unintended insult to the very grave injuries they have suffered, so we will praise, but not really make any other observations.
Speaking for the Catholic tradition, the thaw in relations actually started before World War II, when Pope Pius XI opened up a dialogue with Jewish leaders as early as the 1920's (this initiative was unfortunately thwarted by more reactionary forces within the Curia), stating the incompatibility of antisemitism with the faith, and he famously proclaimed that Catholics are "all spiritual Semites."
While we have taken into account the difficult history between us in how we conduct our interfaith initiatives, there is no doubt that the specter of the death camps has influenced how we relate with our elders in the Faith in a particular way. We are careful not to target evangelization initiatives toward the Jews, so as not to appear to be proselytizing. While the average Catholic today is probably more aware of the Jewish roots of Christianity, and of Jewish practice in general, than was the case in generations past, it strikes me that the focus is still on the uniqueness of the Jewish religious tradition, both ancient and contemporary, as opposed to it's possible continuity with Catholic ritual and belief. I think I understand why we would want to show the proper respect. But in stressing the "otherness" of Judaism, while still recognizing it's beauty and power (I don't know about you, but I get teary eyed when I talk about the Ma Nishtana to my Scripture classes), are we not overlooking Jesus' claim that he came not to abolish the Old Covenant but to fulfill it?
Though his is a popular treatment, Mr. Pitre does an impressive job combing through, not just the Old Testament but, the Talmud and Mishnah as well: the vast collections of rabbinic commentary and collected Jewish oral tradition in order to understand what 1st century Jews would have been thinking about in terms of the coming of the messiah, as well as the nuances of Temple worship that aren't mentioned in the canonical Scriptures. Just as we have the concept of Scripture and Tradition, the Jews also have a body of non-canonical literature they rely on to help them understand the Bible and how it's been interpreted over the centuries (I'm not qualified to really speak to a comprehensive Jewish theology of revelation, but there is no doubt that these writings are very important to understanding their religious and cultural tradition). The picture that is presented is of a religious practice that is certainly unique, but with more similarities to Catholicism that you may have thought. He also over turns some accepted presuppositions we've been laboring under for years.
One such premise that we take for granted is that First Century Jews were anticipating a political-military messiah who was going to liberate Israel from Roman rule and reestablish the Davidic Monarchy. Pitre contends that this is only partially true. Many Jews were actually awaiting something greater than simply political and economic liberation: they were awaiting a new Exodus, with a new Moses who would repeat the miracle of the manna in the desert. The miracle of the manna only lasted as long as Israel was wandering in the wilderness, and was recognized as something supernatural in origin. As soon as they entered into the Promised Land the manna stopped appearing on the ground, as did the appearance of quail in the evening, through which God had supplied His people with flesh to eat, something also considered to be a supernatural occurrence.
The idea here is that Jesus is the new Moses, who inaugurated a new Exodus by His passion, death and resurrection (Luke's Gospel makes direct reference to this in it's account of the Transfiguration). But just as the Hebrews didn't go directly into the Promised Land after leaving slavery in Egypt, Christians are wandering in the wilderness of this world until Jesus returns to lead us into the eternal Promised Land; the Heavenly Jerusalem. In the meantime we have the new manna, the Eucharist, the Bread of Angels, to sustain us on the journey.
This is only one aspect of a rather complex and interconnected picture that Mr. Pitre offers the reader of ancient Jewish practice and its connection with the Catholic faith. I guess what I'm picking up after getting about halfway through the book so far, is that we tend to look at Christianity, and specifically Catholicism as some grand departure from the Jewish religion. In reality, if the entire record is examined, we come away with a clear continuity between the two traditions, that doesn't destroy the uniqueness of ether religion.
What I'm also seeing is the wisdom in the Catholic insistence on Revelation being contained in both Scripture and Tradition, not Scripture alone. While the Bible gives us the basis of belief, and nothing in the Tradition can contradict Scripture, the ongoing oral tradition, liturgical rites, commentaries by the Fathers and Magisterial pronouncements passed on through the ages sheds light on what the Scripture means. It tells us how the eternal Word has been applied in the concrete situations of history on planet earth, and again, shows forth the continuity of the faith guided by the Holy Spirit. The more I read the Old Testament the more I've come to see this continuity between the two dispensations. But it's subtle and can be easy to miss. When the extra-Scriptural Jewish sources are taken into account the connections become much clearer.
In all this, I've come to a greater appreciation of my own Catholic tradition, but this and other reading I've done in this vein, has also led me to a greater appreciation of the Jewish faith. It is unique, and needs to be cherished on its own terms. But it would be spiritual blindness on our parts to not acknowledge the clear continuity between our religions.
I'll finish both Cardinal Sarah's book and Mr. Pitre's, and have further thoughts soon.
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