A Broken System?

The case of the “Kennedy annulment” came up in class one day during my first year of canon law studies, and it started quite an extensive conversation. However, no one present had read the book written by the respondent in the case, so I took it upon myself to tackle it. I am so very glad I did.

The book in question is Shattered Faith by Sheila Rauch Kennedy (New York, Pantheon Books, 1997). It was fascinating reading this book at the beginning of a career processing cases of nullity just like the cases that Kennedy grapples with in her book. I have approached this specific line of work, indeed feel called to it, precisely because I first came to see it as (at its best) a ministry of healing and reconciliation of persons with the Catholic Church. While my understanding of marriage nullity investigations has necessarily become much more complex in recent years, that sense of ministry perdures.

It would be easy (if uncharitable) to pooh-pooh the several technical inaccuracies Kennedy makes throughout the book, but I had to remind myself that I was reading as an insider, from within the very circle of trained expertise which she is trying so valiantly to understand from the outside. Considering the approach she took, based on the sources she had available to her, I think it is very much to her credit that she was able to uncover as clear a picture of the so-called annulment process as she did.

Kennedy takes the occasion of fighting her own fight to cast her net wider, to make hers not just a personal narrative but a work of research, albeit not in a scientific sense. She recounts the experiences of other women who have been the unwilling respondents in marriage nullity cases, and in telling her tale she is able to extend her narrative, and the import of her message, by weaving in the stories of others to build her case. Her thesis, of course, is that the ‘annulment machine’ in the American Catholic Church is out of control, and she is hardly the first person, inside the Church or out, to have made this claim: Popes John Paul II and Benedict XVI were quite clear in their repeated expressions of that same opinion.

Another thing, small perhaps, but noticeable, is how carefully she avoids flopping the Kennedy name and family history around between the covers of this book. She writes from an assumption that readers will know who her former husband is, and largely leaves it at that, which I thought was a good way to go about it, even though I was reading this long after this was a news item, and so sometimes wished for a little more detail, but almost always for my own sense of historical-biographical context, not because it was anything truly germane to the plot of the book.

I still absolutely believe that the work I am doing in the Church is worth doing, but this book broadened my perspective on the process and the impact — sometimes devastating — it can have on the lives of those involved. There are two parties to every marriage, and often children besides, and while the spouse bringing the petition for a declaration of nullity clearly wants to move on with his or her life and leave that relationship behind, that feeling may very well not be shared by the other party. So for me Kennedy’s story was a cautionary tale for me, and I hope it will inspire me to apply with particular care the Church’s own rules of justice, and not allow procedures to roll unquestioningly over people’s lives in the name of pastoral convenience for one of the parties.

Pope Francis has certainly expressed concern over how the current procedural structures could be made better, and how the church might do more to assist those many Catholics who have divorced and re-married. I am quite ready to admit that the processes we have are not perfect, and I would welcome careful reform in this area. As things are currently structured, however, we must bear in mind that the work of the ecclesiastical tribunal is not, ultimately, about making anyone happy. It is not about “letting people get married again” in the Church. Those may sometimes be the results. But the purpose of the process is simple: to discover the truth, and to respect both parties throughout the course of that search for truth. I pray that I and my colleagues can always keep sight of that, and that in searching for and discovering the truth, all may find they are set free.


What do we call a retired Pope?

There are many, many questions flying through the ether following Pope Benedict XVI’a stunning announcement that he will be resigning the Petrine Office effective 28 February 2012. And yet, as at least one of my colleagues has already pointed out, most of them are pretty trivial, maybe because most of the substantive questions are already answered for those who care. And one of the most persistent questions I see is also arguably the most trivial: the question of title. What will we call a retired Pope?

For Catholics, at least for the more traditionally-minded of our tribe, protocol and formality is a BIG deal. If you need convincing, just consider the mere existence, let alone the success, of James-Charles Noonan, Jr.’s book The Church Visible: The Ceremonial Life and Protocol of the Roman Catholic Church (Viking, 1996; a revised second edition came out in 2012 from Sterling). Titles, choir dress, table setting: it’s all in there, and in some contexts it probably is important to know.

But I digress; back to the subject at hand. Dr. Ed Peters argues well that Benedict XVI will return to the status of a cardinal, albeit a superannuated one, too old to vote in future conclaves even if he wanted to (which he has already made clear he does not intend to do). This makes good sense on a practical level: cardinals enjoy a long list of universal faculties, meaning they are independent of the jurisdiction of any diocesan bishop (save that of the Bishop of Rome). As Peters correctly asks, “Could we really imagine the alternative: a former pope being subjected to the jurisdiction of someone other than the next pope?” It is a rhetorical question, for surely we cannot.

However, on 12 February 2013 the Vatican spokesman, Father Federico Lombardi, SJ, indicating that, while much is yet being worked out, it was certain he would not hold the title of cardinal, but might conceivably be referred to as “bishop emeritus of Rome.”

Personally, I suspect we probably won’t have much need to call him anything. All signs indicate that once the dust settles and the next Bishop of Rome is duly elected, the man who has been Benedict XVI for nearly eight years is going to step into a quiet, prayerful seclusion from which he will rarely, if ever, emerge in this life. He has carried a great burden, and we should know him well enough to realize that, if he is laying it down as he is, then he must be truly worn down indeed. He is not going to strike out on the lecture circuit or do a book tour: he is going to pray, quietly, out of public view, and prepare for his final task: eternity.

A Surprising Morning

On most weekdays I wake up well before the rest of my family, and one of the first things I do is wake up the iMac and check my news feeds in the quiet of the pre-dawn. (I really should move “pray” to the head of my morning activity list; that is something I am actively working on.) Most days this is little more than a stalling tactic before I tackle the dishes and my own ablutions. Not much has typically happened in Facebook Land between my late bedtime and my 6am rising.

But today was exceptional in almost every way. Post after post after post from my early-rising Catholic friends carried the same news: Pope Benedict XVI had just announced that he will be resigning his office as Bishop of Rome effective 28 February 2013, just a little more than two weeks hence.

Obviously my historical details were a tad off (it was pre-coffee, after all), but even so, I stand by the sentiment. This is stop the presses sort of news, and at least a few news sites and blogs have crashed under the surge of traffic this morning. Distinguished canon law expert Msgr. David-Maria Jaeger, OFM rightly refers to the details of this move as “uncharted waters”. The law of the Church, while acknowledging the possibility of such an event (canon 332 §2), makes no further provision or prescriptions for the details of such a heretofore theoretical eventuality. It will mostly take patience on all our parts to see how all of this shakes out, both canonically and (arguably more importantly) theologically; patience and faith.

Benedict XVI modifies Pastor Bonus with 2 new motu proprio

Get out your already heavily-amended copies of Pastor bonus, everyone: it is time to amend it yet again. The 1998 Pastoral Constitution of Pope John Paul II laid out in considerable detail the organization of the Roman Curia, specifying precisely the names and composition of each dicastery, enumerating which competencies, or responsibilities, each dicastery was charged with overseeing.

This past month the Holy See announced two new Apostolic Letters, each transferring an important competency from one Vatican dicastery to another:

  • Apostolic Letter “Motu Proprio data” Ministrorum institutio modifying the Apostolic Constitution Pastor bonus and transferring the governance of seminaries from the “Congregation for Catholic Education” to the “Congregation for the Clergy” (16 January 2013)
  • Apostolic Letter “Motu Proprio data” Fides per doctrinam modifying the Apostolic Constitution Pastor bonus and transferring the competence of Catechesis from the “Congregation for Clergy” to the “Pontifical Council for Promoting New Evangelization” (16 January 2013)

Both of these shifts seem pretty straightforward, and I should think will elicit little real controversy. It has been discussed before (certainly in my recent coursework, if nowhere else) that seminaries are not, as their previous docketing would have seemed to indicate, simply one type of school among the many different species of Catholic educational institutions that the Congregation for Catholic Education oversees. Rather, seminaries fill a vital rôle in the formation of clergy, and so it is naturally under the competence of the Congregation for Clergy that they belong.

The second transfer is also unsurprising, and might well be indicative of a continued evolution of the Curia as a whole. In studying Pastor bonus just this past year it seemed that some of the Congregations had a sort of ‘grab bag’ list of competencies: probably for good historical reasons for the most, but still a bit eyebrow-raising at first glance. (It also makes trying to memorize said lists of competencies more than a bit daunting when they are so unintuitive at times.) And I wonder, too, if this move of Catechesis from the Congregation for Clergy to the relatively-new Pontifical Council for Promoting New Evangelization can be read as a sign that the divide in prestige between the older Congregations and the newer Pontifical Councils is beginning to erode. We shall just have to wait and see.

Certainly, though, this move reflects the great importance that the Holy Father is placing on the much-needed efforts to re-awaken the faith of vast populations who, though often Catholic in name or in history, have in recent generations lost much of their fervor and formation. Let us all pray, in this Year of Faith, that the faith of all may be rekindled by the fire of the Holy Spirit.

Done with school

Well, I am finished.

For those of you keeping score at home, I can now sign my correspondence as “Aldean Hendrickson, JCL” (if the occasion warrants it, at least). After three and a half years as a full-time student, uprooting my young family and migrating back and forth between Minnesota and Canada eight times, we are on our way home to our home to stay and make it a home. And I will, in a few short days, begin again to build a career, this time in service to the Church as an expert in Canon Law.

Thank you for all your prayers along the way to this point, and please continue to pray for me, and for more clergy, religious, and laity who will answer the call to be ministers of justice in the Church.

“Goody goody gumdrops!”

It was Dr. Michael Mikolajczak, the professor with whom I took three of my eleven courses in my undergraduate major (English, if you are just joining us), who first inspired me to don a bow tie, for which I will always thank him, as I am sure does the general public. A colorful and dynamic instructor, he is also memorable for his peculiar views on final examinations.

Literature courses in a liberal arts institution are not, in my limited experience, generally seen as conducive to evaluation in written exam form. These are the sort of things we write essays for, texts spread out on our crowded dorm desks while we fiddle with the margin and line-spacing settings and try to avoid spilling either coffee or beer on any of he library books. But Dr. M. had his own approach to pedagogy, and he was very fond of the final exam.

On the morning of a final exam, you should leap out of bed and say, “Goody, goody, gumdrops!”

“I want you to think of the final exam as an occasion of joy,” he would explain to the class, and in each of the three semesters I heard this speech, the students seemed pretty uniformly skeptical on this point. “The final exam gives you an opportunity to revisit all that you have learned this semester. On the morning of a final exam, you should leap out of bed and say, ‘Goody, goody, gumdrops!'” The class would pretty much just be staring at him at this point, wondering what he was on.

I won’t pretend I was any fan of those final exams at the time, but I have never forgotten Dr. Mikolajczak’s words. And now, in the ultimate days of my graduate studies, I think I can say I finally say that I share and embrace his enthusiasm. It is only in these long hours of panicked review that I am truly seeing the extent of what I have (theoretically) learned these past three years of work toward my Licentiate in Canon Law. It is almost not too strong to say that it is only in this review that I am learning what before I had only heard, which is not meant as a judgment on my professors’ pedagogy but rather as a telling comment on my own lackadaisical learning style.

Let’s dispel any illusions you may be harboring about me. I don’t take notes. I don’t make flash cards. I don’t ask questions. I don’t raise my hand during lectures. I don’t get around to reading a lot of the ‘recommended’ texts, or even many of the ‘required’ ones. What do I do, then, to have made it this far in academic pursuits? Two things: I listen in class, as actively as I can manage, and I care. Most days, that is enough. Which is fortuitous, since that is all I can manage.

Now, three days before I must stand before a panel of my professors and answer on the spot whatever questions they choose to throw at me, I am doing some of those studenty things I just said I don’t do. I am poring over canons and commentaries, laboriously creating a heap of index cards during the day which my loving wife will use to quiz me in the evenings. I am, in a word, actually working at this, which feels foreign to me (because it is), and also feels downright thrilling.

Should I have felt this sort of agency regarding my own learning before now? Absolutely. I am embarrassed and ashamed that I have largely slouched through my academic degrees, because I could, rather than muster the energy and courage to really try. Who knows what I might have become? At the least, probably a better man. But it is too late to change what is past; what I can do is change the game, even at this late hour, and I am uncharacteristically confident that I might be able, not only to make this work in this critical moment, but to make a lasting change of it that will open new possibilities of productive learning and knowledge retention for me in the future.

Almost Done

I have now entered the final month of my course of study in Canon Law. By lunchtime on December 11th, I will be on the far side of an hour of examination covering the full range of the Church’s law, and (hopefully) with the satisfied relief of a job well done.

Am I nervous? More terrified, really. Yet I am also largely calm, almost disinterested in the remainder of this long process. I know I should be frantically and systematically reviewing copious notes, commentaries, and sundry documents, cramming my head with concepts and connections that I have been content to let wash over me for most of my time as a student here. Yet more than anything these days I just want to hold my children as they fall asleep at night, to watch a television program with my wife, to sit alone and stare into the future I cannot see.

So please, pray for me, that I can find the perseverance to study well and hard these next few weeks, that I can make my family and my diocese proud, and that I can prove myself adequately prepared to serve the Church as a minister of justice and an expert in the law.