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259. “Excommunicated!” When the Roman Prevails Over the Catholic

But how can this be? Roman Catholicism teaches that we are “all brothers” (Pope Francis’s 2020 encyclical), that we must bless everyone (the 2023 “Fiducia supplicans” declaration allowing the blessings of same-sex attracted people), that “todos, todos, todos” (all, all, all), all are children of God—and then…it excommunicates the newly appointed bishops and all the clergy of the Society of St. Pius X, who are more Roman Catholic than anyone else!?!

We’re used to a Catholicism that’s soft, understanding, inclusive, pluralistic, and accommodating. Today, hearing talk of “schism” and “excommunication” regarding the Society of St. Pius X seems incomprehensible and evokes centuries of history that seem to have been consigned to the past.

In fact, to a casual observer, what happened at the beginning of July is a facet of Roman Catholicism that, after Vatican II, we were no longer accustomed to. Yet it is a facet that is an integral and organic part of Roman Catholicism.

How can all this be explained? One must understand the markers of Rome’s identity. Catholicism, in addition to being “Catholic,” is also “Roman.” It is both at the same time. On the one hand, its catholicity is the ideal of universality, which goes hand in hand with an attitude that embraces diversity. On the other hand, its Roman identity embodies the institutional dimension expressed in the hierarchical-sacramental structure centered on the papacy.

On the one hand, it absorbs; on the other, it controls. Thus, Rome can incorporate the charismatic movement, tolerate dissenting Catholics, fraternally embrace followers of other religions, show understanding toward LGBTQ+ people, make room for the German synodal path (with its progressive impulses), incorporate the Andean fertility goddess such as Pachamama, and approve new Marian apparitions…provided that the hierarchical-sacramental structure remains untouched and the prerogatives of the “Roman” system are not threatened.

This is precisely what happened with the Society of St. Pius X. It is not their traditionalism, nor their criticism of Vatican II, nor their nostalgic interpretation of Roman Catholicism that poses a problem. In Roman Catholicism, there is room for this and much more, both on the right and on the left of the spectrum, on the traditionalist side as well as on the progressive side.
 
What led to the schism was the challenge posed to the “Roman” system. By ordaining four bishops without the Vatican’s authorization, the Society of St. Pius X claimed for itself a right that Rome considers its exclusive and non-negotiable prerogative. As long as it comes to opening space for new interpretations, diverse experiences, multiple perspectives, and varied theological and ethical paths, Roman Catholicism is welcoming, and its broad embrace expands even further. 
 
On the contrary, when the system feels its “Roman” prerogatives threatened, the harsh reaction we have witnessed unfolds: the excommunication because of “schism,” with all the canonical consequences.
 
The relations between the Roman Catholic Church and the Society of St. Pius X have a turbulent history marked by decades of bitter debate. As long as the issues remained within the realm of Vatican II interpretations, the room for maneuver allowed relations to be maintained. Now, however, the dispute has shifted to the realm of the “Roman” structure, and Rome has shown its intransigent face.
 
What does all this remind us of? It reminds us that Roman Catholicism is both Roman and Catholic. Always. Anyone who looks only at the “catholic” aspect and not at the “Roman” one (and vice versa) has understood little or nothing.
 
Since we’re talking about schism and excommunication, our thoughts inevitably turn to the Protestant Reformation. Luther was excommunicated and charged with the sin of schism. If Martin Luther had limited himself to calling for a moral reform of the clergy, a renewal of the Church’s teaching, or the formation of a new religious order, even then Rome’s catholicity would have been capable of assimilating those demands. The crux of the Reformation was that the “Roman” heart—the imperial/hierarchical/sacramental construct at the center of the system—needed to be reformed according to Scripture. This triggered Luther’s expulsion by the then-Pope.
 
Roman Catholicism oscillates between the Roman and the Catholic. Its catholicity is not defined by biblical standards, but by the preservation and implementation of its Roman interests.

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258. In or Out? Roman Catholic attitudes towards the Christians “on the threshold”

“I’m Catholic, but I don’t go to church.” “I’m Catholic, but in my own way.” “I’m Catholic, but …” How many times have we heard friends or neighbors say these things? These are people who, while they continue to identify with a vaguely defined religious identity – in this case Roman Catholicism – do not fit into the traditional features associated with the practice of that faith.
 
Around the world, there are many different kinds of Catholics. They used to be called “nominal” Christians, “non-practicing” Christians, “cultural” Catholics, etc. The book by Livio Tonello, Roman Catholic professor of Pastoral Theology at the Theology Faculty in Padua (Italy), Il respiro di Dio. Tra i cristiani “della soglia” (Padua: Messaggero, 2026: The breath of God: Among the Christians on the threshold), calls them “Christians on the threshold.”
 
The threshold is that intermediate space between the inside and the outside that is generally crossed to move from one place to another. One does not linger on the threshold, but transits through it. Yet many Roman Catholics, instead of passing through the threshold, make it their permanent dwelling place. They remain there. Neither outside nor inside. The threshold becomes their spiritual home.
 
Tonello describes the Christian on the threshold as follows: “They are no less believers than in the past, but in a different way; they are no less spiritual, but not within an institution; they are no less in need of signs and rituals, but resistant to continuity. They are still searching their identities; distrustful of the institution but open to mystery; indifferent but not hostile; distracted but not closed off” (10).
 
The Christians on the threshold are not found only in the Roman Catholic world. Even the recent phenomenon of the “quiet revival” in Northern European countries does not seem to be bringing people back to traditional denominational practice, but rather to moving within the threshold of the search for the sacred. It is a movement that stays within the parameter of the threshold.
 
The Roman Catholic Church has long sought to decipher this phenomenon and respond to it by launching the “New Evangelization” project and updating its patterns of pastoral care. The former tries to reach out to people who have been baptized in the Roman Catholic Church but have lost contact with it. In his book, Tonello reflects on the need to work hard on the pastoral approach to them by suggesting three images of humanity: “homo viator” (the man on a journey), “homo religiosus” (the religious man), and “homo peregrinus” (the pilgrim man).

People are, by definition, on a journey; what happened is that the path has become eclectic, open-ended, and no longer predetermined. As for the religious mark of humanity, it remains a constitutive trait (“homo naturaliter religiosus”) of what it means to be human, but the established codes and patterns of religious identity have been replaced by the more fluid ones of holistic spirituality. Finally, pilgrimage is another hallmark of life, except that contemporary man has become more of a nomad or wanderer than a pilgrim. The destination of the journey no longer exists.
 
In the wake of Pope Francis’s call to be a “church that goes forth” (Evangelii Gaudium, n. 20), Tonello seeks to outline a Roman Catholic pastoral approach that engages those on the threshold and within the gray zone of belief. Roman Catholicism has some cards to play in reaching out to Christians on the threshold, e.g. medieval pilgrimages now back in vogue, shrines as places of spirituality, rites and devotions that allow for varied forms of participation, youth and family initiatives as spaces for social interaction, an online presence that invites dialogue, and so on.
 
The approach taken by Tonello is soft: it involves “envisioning a Christianity that becomes part of the culture without presenting itself as a counterculture” (123). The goal is not to challenge, but to accommodate. Not to shake things up, but to go along with them. Not to invite people to choose, but to encourage hybridity. Not to become cold or hot, but to stay lukewarm. The hope is not to overcome the threshold but to give it Christian legitimacy.
 
Behind this take on the Christians on the threshold lies an entire conception of Christianity steeped in sacramentalism. For Roman Catholicism, in fact, even Christians on the threshold are people who express “a spirituality of the baptismal priesthood lived out in daily life” (174).
 
In other words, they are already on a journey of grace that must be accompanied. The sacramental journey, begun with baptism, is nonetheless active even in the space of the threshold. In the various facets of the threshold, “there remains a way of being Church because the Spirit manifests itself in diverse subjectivities, both individual and collective, whose culmination is Eucharistic subjectivity” (66).
 
Translated: From the moment of baptism onward, one is a Christian and remains so forever. The Eucharist (that is, the “source and summit” of the Christian life: Catechism of the Catholic Church, n. 1324) is merely the culmination of the Christian life, but there are countless other ways to live it differently, even outside of traditional beliefs and practices. Once initiated through baptism, according to Rome, Christianity is a dynamic, evolving (even devolving), and graded continuum that can go forward and backward, upward and downward, closer and further. If, before Vatican II, Roman Catholicism fenced its boundaries by encouraging an identity-based understanding and practice of Roman Catholicism, after Vatican II, it legitimizes the religious threshold and, indeed, considers it a permanent place where everyone can find their own niche.
 
The threshold space allows Roman Catholicism to make room for all people, even outside of Christianity. According to Vatican II, “For by His incarnation the Son of God has united Himself in some fashion with every man” (Gaudium et Spes, n. 22), and this is one of the reasons why Rome can speak of all men and women as “all brothers,” as Pope Francis entitled his 2020 encyclical. So the threshold is not only a metaphor for lapsed and nominal Catholics, but for people of all faiths or of no faith.
 
Regardless of one’s view on baptism, the biblical Gospel has a different take on the threshold: with regard to the kingdom of God, one is either inside through conversion to Christ or outside, even if nominally “Christian” and occasionally connected to the church. Either here or there. For the Gospel, the threshold is a place of transition, not of lingering. It is a one-way passage, not a platform where one is supposed to remain.
 
Can someone be a disciple of Christ, build his spiritual home on the threshold and never decide to follow Jesus, no matter the cost? Hardly so. Being on the threshold means being on the other side of the kingdom. Perhaps close, but beyond the line.
 
A follower of Christ on the threshold is an oxymoron. One can be a sympathizer, one can be searching, one can be hesitant, one can be perplexed… but one is either on this side or that side of the kingdom of God. If someone wants to stand on the threshold and does not want to cross it, she is actually still on the other side. The church patiently and kindly waits for people to cross the threshold but is not supposed to build theological and spiritual infrastructure to keep them comfortable in it.
 
With kindness, tact, and patience, everyone must be reminded that Christianity is not a seasonal religion, nor just any old store where one occasionally shops. Either you embrace the Gospel on the Gospel’s own terms, or you reject it. It is not baptism that saves; it is Jesus Christ who converts hearts, not by keeping them entangled on the threshold, but by calling them to enter definitively into His kingdom.

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