Abraham's Way to the Catholic Church

Visiting the Holy Land helped make me a Catholic and two of my professors at the General Theological Seminary of the Episcopal Church laid the groundwork for it. First, Fr. J. Robert Wright, the noted ecumenist and Professor of Church History, ensured that all of his students were familiar with the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.  With his Xeroxed copies of articles and floor plans, he introduced us to its history and its place in the development of the liturgies of Holy Week and Easter.  Dr. Boyce Bennett, Professor of Old Testament, introduced us to the intersection of Biblical and Archeological studies.  Both of them encouraged a spirituality of place, of the expectation of encountering the Divine in the places which enshrine the memory of previous human encounters with God, places where “prayer has been valid.”

            Episcopalians on a pilgrimage are at a disadvantage in the Holy Land.  Episcopalians are not just Protestants who encounter God mainly through a Biblical text with geography providing interesting background.  Episcopalians can share the Catholic and Orthodox experience that places themselves are holy and that the Bible witnesses to that holiness.  We resonate with the naïve offer made by Peter, James and John on the Mountain of the Transfiguration:  “Let us make three booths for you.”  For us a church can in some way mediate the experience of the event that is remembered and celebrated.

            The Episcopalian disadvantage is that while we may think of ourselves as Catholics at home, in the Holy Land we are almost always treated as Protestants.  Except for the Chapel of Abraham at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Episcopalians and Anglicans cannot join in celebrating Mass at the holy places in the Holy Land. We may visit the churches but we do not belong there.  Episcopalians’ Catholic illusions have no meaning there.  We are expected to read the bible and we pray like other Protestants. 

            For Catholics but not for Episcopalians, the Incarnation is not up for debate, and neither is the Resurrection.  Catholics do not make pilgrimages to the places which illustrate interesting articles of a faith in which we no longer believe, but places made holy by living faith. We are in communion with Peter, and with all of those throughout the world who are in communion with Peter’s successor. During our November pilgrimage we said Mass at the “Rock of Peter” on the shore of the Sea of Galilee before visiting Peter’s House in Capernaum and later the Church of St. Peter Gallicantu in Jerusalem.  We encountered Peter.  We prayed the Angelus at the Virgin’s Well in Bethlehem before visiting the Church of the Annunciation and celebrating Mass at the Church of St. Joseph and visiting the Church of the Dormition in Jerusalem. We encountered Mary.  We celebrated Mass on Mt. Zion beside the Upper Room and Mass in the Chapel of St. Mary Magdalene in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.  We encountered Christ.

            While I was still an Episcopalian seminarian, Fr. Wright made sure that we knew there was one holy place in the Holy Land at which Episcopalians had the privilege of saying.  And on my first actual visit to the Holy Land as an Episcopal priest, Dr. Bennett made sure that I had the opportunity to say Mass there: the Chapel of Abraham at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

            The privilege of saying Mass at the Chapel of Abraham was granted to Anglicans by the Greek Patriarch of Jerusalem back in 1885.  It is literally a “back door” privilege.  As gracious a concession as it is, Anglican priests must relay their request to use the chapel through the Dean of St. George’s Anglican Cathedral who must send a messenger to the Orthodox convent whose nuns maintain it.  Sometimes the request is inconvenient to the Dean, as was my request back in 1998, and sometimes it is inconvenient to the nuns.  When the request is granted, the entrance to the chapel is not found inside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre which might imply that Anglicans are on the same level with the other churches which have rights in there. The chapel is not visible from inside or from the outside of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Episcopalians must enter through the Russian Hospice next door and find the way though hallways and staircases.  But once in the chapel, one is very close to, or even above Calvary.

            The Mass I celebrated there in 1987 with seminarians from General Seminary gave me one of the insights and images that allowed me to trustingly lay my Episcopalian priesthood aside for the greater good of becoming a true, not an imaginary Catholic.

            Abraham’s sacrifice of his son Isaac is one of the Old Testament “types” of Calvary.  The Father’s sacrifice of his Only Begotten Son Jesus Christ and Christ’s trusting willingness to offer himself on the Cross is prefigured in this dramatic story from Genesis.  It is one of the seven readings from the Old Testament at every Easter Vigil.  As Kierkegaard elucidates the story, Abraham makes a full and complete offering of his son to God without any reservation.  In his offering, Abraham is expressing absolute trust and hope that God remains faithful to his promise to give him a future through his son.  In this absolute sacrificial offering of his future in the person of his son Isaac to God, Abraham maintains hope because it is the God to whom he is sacrificing who is the guarantee of his hope.  He is sacrificing the sign of his hope to the God of Hope.  As Kierkegaard puts it, Abraham hopes against hope.

            At the Chapel of Abraham at Calvary, an Orthodox fresco shows Abraham with his knife-wielding hand upraised, ready to thrust it into his son. A pudgy angel speaking from the cloud stops Abraham just in time.  Having offered his son to God, Abraham receives him back from God.  Abraham does not withhold his son, and the God of Hope keeps his promise.

            Priesthood, whether Anglican or Catholic, is a gift.  It is a person’s identity and character, a vocation in a spiritual sense as well as professional and economic.  It is a priest’s life and livelihood.

            When an Episcopal or Anglican priest considers becoming Catholic, it is impossible to bring one’s priesthood along. It must be left behind. While the Catholic Church does not require us to renounce our orders or admit heresy, she does not make deals.  The sacrifice must be absolute.  Episcopal clergy must make a sacrificial offering of priesthood back to the one who gave it in the first place.  Any Episcopal priest who has ever considered becoming Catholic has struggled with whether to make this sacrifice.  It is a fearful thing to consider taking one’s own identity, vocation, and hope for the future, to give it back to the God who is the giver of the gift, and let go of it.  The most fruitful image I can imagine for the depth of this sacrifice is the image of Abraham’s sacrifice of his son, Isaac.

            Like Abraham also, it is also possible to maintain faith in the God of Hope, to hope that the sign of hope, one’s priesthood - like Abraham’s son Isaac - might be returned as a gift.  But there is no way to make the sacrifice without accepting the possibility that it will not be returned, that the voice will not speak from the cloud, that the hand will not be stayed, that God will allow Isaac to die and one’s priesthood to end.  There is no way to find out without making one’s own journey to Mt. Moriah.

            We cannot know what would have happened had Abraham been allowed to kill his son.  Yet that is exactly what happened on Calvary.  Christ died, and the Father accepted his sacrifice.  But inside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, through the front door and not through any hidden entrance or side staircase, is the Anastasis.  Christ is risen.  The tomb is empty.

            I cannot promise how the God of Hope will respond to the sacrifice made by Episcopal and Anglican priests who enter the Catholic Church.  I cannot promise that the way back home from Mt. Moriah will be any easier than the journey to Mt. Moriah, or that the Way of the Cross promises that the Way of the Resurrection will be pain free.  But I can promise that God remains the God of Hope.  I trust that the God who raised Jesus is still at work in the world and that he will continue to work in the life and ministry of anyone who offers one’s best self and one’s future to him.  I believe that God is glorified in such sacrifices and that being in Christ’s Catholic Church with Mary, Peter, Mary Magdalene, and all the pilgrims who are still on their pilgrimage and those who have found their way to the heavenly Jerusalem, is worth the sacrifice.

            It is not necessary to make a pilgrimage to Mt. Moriah in Jerusalem to meditate on the sacrifice of one’s priesthood.  The image of Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac is as close as one’s Bible, the stained glass in church, a holy icon, or in the heart of every priest at Mass.  If I could speak individually to any Episcopal or Anglican priest considering becoming Catholic, I’d tell each one that it is my conviction that the only way to come into the Church is Abraham’s way.  Make the sacrifice to the God of Hope.  Be ready to live as if you are not a priest.  Be hopeful.  And if God wills it, perhaps he will offer it back to you.