The Anatomy of Division

How to be like Christianity Today and Pope Francis and Walk the Canterbury Trail

File: William Holman Hunt - May Morning on Magdalen Tower.jpg - Wikimedia Commons

It is in moments of theological crises that the Internet shows itself to its best advantage. Too often, the toxicity of Aunt Constance, the soupiness of Ronald Overbury Fish, the scheming of the Efficient Baxter, and the grift of the penniless Hugo Carmody combine to make every online “discussion” feel devoid of even a single ray of sweetness and light. But when there is really something important to talk about, it steps over stones to become a higher and better self. And yes, I did just start back at the beginning of Blandings, so you may expect some pretty heavy-handed Wodehouse-isms over the next many months.

What I’m trying to say is, there were heaps of excellent takes over the Easter Weekend about the death of Pope Francis. First Things, The Federalist, WORLD, and this post, and this one. And I imagine more will appear through the week.

As for me, I thought it might be charming to plot out the steps along the journey into “chaos,” to use the word of the weekend. For, though the destination is the issue, being a matter of eternal import, the friends everyone is making along the way are consequential. I’m still tired after Easter, so this will be a listicle.

How to Divide the Church in Twelve Easy Steps:

one

At the very beginning of his Papacy, Francis solemnly set about to signal his virtue—moving out of the official Vatican residence, dressing in less than the usual pomp, indicating that he would care very much more for the poor than those before him. And this, I think, is the first mincing step along the broad, wide road toward division in the Church. The person in charge, the head in Friedman terms, if not in Biblical ones, jettisons certain symbolic and consequential trappings of the office he holds. This is because he is not like other clerics. He is a “friend” more than a pastor. He is “on your side” because of who he is, not because of the office given to him by God.

In this vein, if you want to create division in the church, you must create a fissure between yourself and the institution you represent. Though you appear to be very humble, you must place yourself in the center of the frame. Under the guise of egalitarianism and warm feelings, you set yourself up above those who have no power. A little time will reveal you to be a despotic autocrat.

two

In this position of supposed friendliness and greater proximity, you must then differentiate yourself from the institution as such. Pope Francis did this the first time when he said, “Who am I to judge?” Many people hopped around, as though upon hot bricks, exclaiming that he, Il Papa, is literally one of the people vested with the authority “to judge.”

Now, in general, differentiation is good. One should be a person entire, dependable, and selfless, and not a reactionary and co-dependent wreck. But the head of the body is, both symbolically and practically, representative of the whole. Why would you, the head, create space in people’s minds between yourself and the thing of which you, and they, are members? Because it is unsettling, and purposefully so. Because it gives you the power to be the change you desire to see in the world and, secondarily, makes you feel your own strength and importance.

three

Now is the moment, along this winding journey, to become angry that nobody has properly understood how special you are and how difficult your job is. If you glance about at many different kinds of leaders around the world, it would be instructive, I think, to consider who is testy, curmudgeonly, easily annoyed, and given to fits of anger, like Kier Starmer.

One of my favorite examples was how Justin Welby, who, you know, just wanted everyone to get along, occasionally put out press releases in which he blamed the entire world for not understanding his vision and cleverness. But don’t pass over the anger of Russell Moore, lashing out at the SBC for being so given over to abuse which, subsequently, turned out not to be true.