Catholicity
Since ancient times, people have asked, What do we owe each other? It’s common sense that if you see your child being lured into a mysterious van, you should intervene. But what if it’s your neighbor’s child or a child you’ve never seen? What obligation do you have to intervene then? If the evil being committed is obscure or we know little about the victim, it becomes easy to stand by and do nothing. Moreover, if we fundamentally disagree with some people, sometimes that disagreement can get in the way of respecting them—or even protecting them in desperate times (e.g. Islamophobia).
This attitude is unbefitting of Christians. Not only does it fail to recognize our common humanity, but when the rejection occurs among Christians, it can even deny Christ. For the great hope we have as Christians is that we share new life in Christ (1 Corinthians 15:35-56)! This eternal life has begun with Jesus’ resurrection, is unfolding, and will be fulfilled when Christ comes again—when we come to live with him in the New Heaven and New Earth (Revelation 21:1-4). This is the central proclamation of our faith—what the Church has passed down for thousands of years: that Christ is truly risen from the dead.
When we speak of the Church, we speak of those who live with this one vision as their primary reality—despite oppression, poverty, exile, or even death. In spite of disagreements on matters of doctrine, Christ binds us together into a single house—the holy catholic church—of which anyone who calls upon the name of Jesus, confesses him as Lord, and believes that he was raised from the dead (Romans 10:9, 13) is a part (whether they are Roman Catholic, Orthodox, or Protestant).1 We all affirm Jesus as our Lord, and we have all been baptized in the name of our Triune God. Despite sibling rivalry, we are brothers and sisters in the same family, led by a common Head and bound by heavenly heritage.
Nonetheless, we Christians have not yet entered into glory. We live in the world, and it is vital that we be aware and be active in it. We are not called to shun the world’s affairs, but to engage with them in faith, hope, and charity. We must grapple with the application of our hope each time a major event occurs, even when it does not seem to affect us directly.
A familiar example comes to us from Nazi Germany. Martin Niemöller was a German pastor who famously spoke about how, when the Nazis came for various groups (the socialists, trade unionists, and Jews), he did not speak out—for he was not a socialist, unionist, or Jew. “Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.” Though Niemöller thought they were strangers, he was bound to his fellow Germans by civic duty; he came to realize that his silence had been a sin. If he had been actively interested in his neighbors out of Christian charity, then perhaps he would have been able to enact God’s love for them.
John Donne, a sixteenth-century spiritual writer, reflected in his Devotions upon Emergent Occasions on the practice of ringing the town’s bell for each death that occurred. Upon hearing the bell, a natural reaction is to ask who died. Was it a friend? A neighbor? A stranger? But Donne points out that it doesn’t matter who died—we all have a share in humanity, and a share in Christ. Before their death, this person was a part of a body of which you are also a part. Therefore, when they died, a piece of you was lost, whether or not you are aware. If a clod of dirt is washed away from the shore of England, Europe is smaller. Any human death is a loss, regardless of the degree of intimacy in the relationship. Yet, that loss can be a treasure for you. By reflecting on this other person’s death, you can realize your own mortality, repent of your sins, and turn again to God. So when you hear the bell, Donne says, ask not “for whom it tolls; it tolls for thee.”2
If we owe so much to each other by virtue of our shared humanity, then how much more ought we listen with real seriousness to those who belong to the same God? Even if we quarrel, we are still members of the same body (1 Corinthians 12:12-27), branches of the same tree (Romans 11:17-24). So when one part of the church undergoes a major change, it is fitting that the rest of the church pays attention. Loving our brothers and sisters in Christ starts with listening to each other.
Papal & Other Spiritual Authority
American Protestants often think of the pope as a strange celebrity, a particularly self-righteous politician, or even a famous “pastor.” Popular impressions of the pope, such as the movie Conclave (2024), depict political drama as the center of church governance. These papal “icons” betray just how little many people understand spiritual authority.
Most Christians take their church authorities seriously. If you were having trouble in your marriage and asked for advice from several church members—one of whom was your pastor—it is probable that you would listen to your pastor the most keenly. If, then, your pastor retired and the new pastor gave contradictory advice, then you would probably feel some level of distress. You would feel distress because you recognize your pastor as a spiritual authority, which is appropriate to the office they hold.
Spiritual authority for Roman Catholics (and many other Christians) is similar, though it goes even further. Ordination means that God has given the candidate a unique and special grace to understand and communicate God’s word—a charism to pass on the faith. The Roman Catholics, then, believe that the pope is the head of Christ’s church on earth, and thus is the most official spokesperson for God. Christ is the source of all authority, but the pope is the principal mouthpiece for God’s Word. This means that what the pope says in persona Christi (in Christ’s place) must be taken as if Jesus himself had said it. But just as different pastors can say different things, so can popes—because popes, like pastors, are human. This is a major cause of some spiritual chaos in the past few decades, as the Roman Catholic Church went from Benedict XVI to Francis to Leo XIV.
Conclusion
It can be easy to dismiss Christians who are not a part of our local church as being in error, and thus irrelevant to our lives. But by dismissing others, we are weakening the whole body and thus our own connection to the Head. Even if we disagree with the papacy, we must admit that few people on earth possess as much power as the pope. Over one billion Christians look to the pope for guidance on theology, ethics, and spirituality. His decisions will affect the Church as we grapple with modern challenges such as AI and gender ideology.
Many Protestants feel unease about such concentration of power, and for good reasons. When ordinary Christians speak the truth of Christ to their friends, coworkers, or family members, do they not become God’s instrument of love? Are they not filled with spiritual power at the day-to-day level? But this is precisely why we should care about the pope. It is up to ordinary people to pay attention to their church leaders: Are they representing Jesus, our Good Shepherd? If so, let us help them—the least we can do is to pray for their ministry. Or do they lead their sheep away from the path? If they stray, dig in your heels and start bleating!
By Elizabeth Ji