The Church is not an NGO. On the difference between Christianity and a community centre

Luca Casarini has become a man of God, or at any rate has converted – not to Catholicism, which he finds too institutional, but to Christianity, which, in his judgement and in the judgement of his heart, fits better with the experience of workers’ autonomy and the NGO Mediterranea, in which he serves honourably to rescue migrants at risk of shipwreck and drowning. Conversions announced in the press have often drawn scepticism; one recalls the candid account of Giorgio Bocca, who described urinating in the mountains and gazing at the stars, and thus, in a Pascalian manner, sensing—as he told Panorama—the power of creation and the need for the transcendent. This reporter has no objection to Bocca’s personal recollection or to Casarini’s spiritual journey; he is regarded as a decent sort of man.

Then there is Pope Francis, who has a habit of describing himself as non-Catholic, or proclaiming that his God is not Catholic – in contrast to what Pius XII reminded Clare Booth Luce during his fervent anti-communist campaign: ‘Madam, I too am a Catholic’. This very bourgeois discretion regarding conversion is a decisive factor, a fine measure of seriousness, more so than the heartfelt and palpable communion in the name of transcendence, more so than the heartfelt solidarity or brotherhood in Christ. At the moment of encountering Christ or God the Father who sent him, someone should proclaim in a universal—that is, Catholic—manner the way, the truth and the life, would remember that the Church founded by Him consists not only of good intentions and charity but of rock-solid discipline, a framework of ideas, narratives, philosophies and dogmas, and a clergy that embodies the apostolic tradition through its hierarchical structure—including that very Catholic figure, the Pope, and, if you will, the Petrine and Pauline Rome.

Social centres and NGOs are, at least in their intentions, striving for a good cause, but the Church is not a social centre, nor is it an NGO, and it is questionable whether good works in themselves lead to salvation without faith and the complex, time-honoured teachings of Scripture, regardless of whether one exercises free examination of conscience or not (Luther strongly objected to this and is now widely re-evaluated). In any case, no one here is a theologian; the issue has only an intellectual and moral dimension. 

Discovering the transcendent through the stars or the vastness of the sea, as in Luca’s case, is a wonderful experience, bordering on the New Age, and one that everyone should try. The recreational and leisurely use we make of the sea cannot compete with such realisations or revelations. Yet even the sea of the transcendent may have its own logic, indeed its own history, its own disciplined humanistic function, and its own personal and collective ethics; and taking this into account may be a good thing. In this regard, a modicum of intellectual respect for the founders of churches – including autocephalous schisms, Orthodoxy and Protestantism – for consecrated priests with their charisms, and for the ecclesiastical practice of the people of God, including priests and pastors, is helpful; for, according to the last Ecumenical Council, this would in its entirety constitute the Christ-like body of the Church. Workers’ autonomy and the revolutionary practice of the Venetians have provided a horizon; but to force the whole of Christianity into that same revolutionary horizon – as Casarini does when speaking to the press – is perhaps a bit too much.