The Mandatum Issue: Beware of Superficial Judgment

By Dr. Jeff Mirus ( bio - articles - email ) | Apr 04, 2013

Pope Francis’ decision to wash the feet of women in the prison in which he celebrated the Mass of the Last Supper has created a bit of a stir, especially among liturgically-conservative Catholics. Critical responses have ranged from a mild concern about the larger impact on rubrical observance of the Pope’s decision to outright condemnation of the Pope, as if he has somehow revealed “his true colors”. The former reaction is reasonable; the latter is not. There are simply too many aspects of this issue to consider for anyone to be jumping to conclusions.

Let us first recall that there is no question of the Pope “breaking the law”. In the Catholic Church, the Pope is the author of all ecclesiastical law (Canon Law, liturgical rubrics, particular policies). As the author or source of the law, the Pope is not bound by it, any more than the father in a family is bound by the rules he makes for orderly family life. A prudent father will follow the rules he establishes as a general principle, because this gives good example and encourages respect for rules designed to foster the good of the family. But all good parents sometimes relax or contradict a rule, when circumstances warrant it, and they are not somehow being “disobedient” when they do so.

In just the same way, the Pope is able to prescind from any of his rules and laws, without the least disobedience (the concept is simply inapplicable) and without disrespect for the law on his part, even though his action might be misunderstood in a way that fosters disrespect in others. This potential for fostering disrespect is certainly worthy of consideration, but it must be weighed against the merits of suspending the normal rule in a particular case.

Some have argued that if the Pope fails to observe a particular rule, then the rest of the Church is free to ignore the rule as well. But this is not at all theoretically justified unless and until the Holy Father indicates that he wishes the rule no longer to be the norm. His publicly-expressed will in such matters has the force of law, but one cannot conclude from an occasional departure from a rule that the Pope does not wish that rule to govern typically. If that is his intention, he will no doubt make it clear soon enough.

The Law of Charity

While Catholics who are not the Pope do not have the same freedom—that is, the possibility of actual disobedience does apply to everyone else—all Catholics do have a certain freedom with respect to Church law when it comes to the demands of charity. A simple example which most of us have encountered relates to the laws of fast and abstinence. If we are abstaining from meat (or fasting) according to Church law on a particular day, but we are visiting someone else, our host may place a meal (or meat within a meal) before us. The law of charity demands that we refrain from hurting the host’s feelings. We are to eat what we are served, without any show of reluctance or distaste.

For those of us who pride ourselves on sticking to the rules, this can actually be a salutary act of humility, producing the desired spiritual attitude more effectively than the actual fast or abstinence would do. But if we should delight too much in the respite the host offers, we can always substitute another penance later!

The same holds true for the obligation to attend Mass under pain of serious sin. If it is significantly difficult to get to Mass, we are absolved of this obligation under the law of charity. Perhaps the nearest Mass is 100 miles away, or the only Mass time available is when one is all alone caring for a sick child; in  these and many other cases the law does not bind. And the same holds true for those who actually have the power of enforcement of Church laws, such as priests or bishops. A priest might not always insist on the fulfillment of each normal requirement for marriage preparation, for example, if there is a good reason in charity to relax the rules in a particular case. Or he might say Mass in a private home under unusual circumstances, even if is against the normal rules his bishops has established. Again, the law of charity prevails.

Sometimes rules-oriented persons, pastors and laity alike, can become so preoccupied with laws and rules that they lose sight of the dispositions which the laws and rules are designed to foster. When this happens, they become pharisaical. The same description legitimately applies to us when we quickly condemn others each time some rule is violated, leaping to uncharitable conclusions about the state of their souls—when we should really be concerned for our own.

Dangers: Motivation and Context

The danger in all this is the classic danger of Christian freedom, the danger of “love and do what you will” (St. Augustine). And that danger is that we typically do not know how to love perfectly. Too often we experience a temptation to relax a rule out of self-love, which is exactly the opposite of what we should be doing. For this reason, a decision to prescind from a rule should be made on serious reflection and, unless our own legitimate need is very clear, for the sake of others, not for ourselves.

We must also perceive the connection between particular rules and the doctrinal, moral or sacramental realities which the rules are designed to protect. These realities are of divine origin; they are not within our power to abrogate or reorder as we will. If the decision to contravene a particular law or rule is likely to engender disrespect for the truth or moral laxity, the argument against this decision is extremely strong. On the other hand, when a particular rule or law becomes outmoded, no longer playing a significant role in protecting and fostering permanent realities—or when circumstances conspire to make the rule or law counter-productive in a particular instance—then the argument for dispensing with it is easier to make and, in the latter case, extremely strong.

But who is making the judgment and why? It is precisely these questions which haunt deeply-committed, orthodox Catholics. Over the past fifty years, the overwhelming number of rules that have been suspended all up and down the hierarchy, from the man in the pews to the bishop in the chancery, have been suspended not as exceptions but more or less permanently, and not in order to preserve spiritual goods but in order to bring those spiritual goods into disuse or even disrespect. To put the matter simply, too many rules—not to mention doctrines of faith and moral laws—have been abandoned or even formally changed by secularized Catholics who simply do not appreciate the fullness of the Catholic Faith.

Truly, context is everything.

But I would also argue that, in general, the context in which the rules are being reconsidered now is not the same context as twenty or forty or fifty years ago. The situation still varies from place to place, but in general the episcopate and the priesthood is healthier now than it was a generation ago. The tendency now is to revive respect for law in the Church as necessary to foster a salutary reverence for the sacred realities. And I would certainly argue that Catholics have no need to fear for the sacred realities at the hands of the Pope, as if his every action is to be judged on its potential to reveal a secret heretic.

The Mandatum Itself

It is sometimes amusing to see certain kinds of Catholics become fearful and defensive about priestly and episcopal dignity when the Pope (or anyone else) makes a decision not to insist on a particular dignity of office—such as a reluctance to be called “Your Holiness” or “Your Eminence” or “Your Excellency”. There is almost a reverse clericalism here, and it is at least potentially as dangerous as the tendency to blur the line between priest and layman, which diminishes our awareness of the Church’s sacramental power. The washing of the feet on Holy Thursday is called “the Mandatum” because Our Lord mandated that his disciples treat others in exactly this way, as servants. It is somewhat odd, therefore, that it should be the Mandatum ceremony which throws this whole problem into relief.

Beyond the letter of the liturgical law, which specifies that those whose feet are to be washed are to be male, there is a fear that if the rule is not observed, it will undermine the distinctiveness of the rite in recalling Our Lord’s own actions and in emphasizing the importance of the apostles. Some would argue that this disvalues the episcopate, the priesthood, and the sacramental system. But surely this is a case of misplaced fear. An emphasis on the hierarchical status of the apostles does not appear to have been Christ’s intention, and in any case the rubrical emphasis on specifically lay males does not preserve any genuinely apostolic association. Rather, the primary point of the ritual seems to be the service demanded of priests by their Christian discipleship, which in turn should be imitated by all.

Let us consider the relevant Scriptural passage:

Then he poured water into a basin, and began to wash the disciples' feet, and to wipe them with the towel with which he was girded. He came to Simon Peter; and Peter said to him, “Lord, do you wash my feet?” Jesus answered him, “What I am doing you do not know now, but afterward you will understand.’… When he had washed their feet, and taken his garments, and resumed his place, he said to them, "Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord; and you are right, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Truly, truly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master; nor is he who is sent greater than he who sent him. If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them. (John 13:5-7;12-17)

Now I do not mean to pretend that this was not done at the Last Supper or that it was not the apostles who were present. But note that St. John does not use the term “apostles” but “disciples”, making this an example which applies to any follower of Jesus. Also note that there is no emphasis here on any sacramental value, let alone on the suitability of the disciples to take Orders. Instead, the whole point of Our Lord’s explanation is that anyone who calls Him “Teacher and Lord” ought to follow His example, for the “servant is not greater than his master; nor is he who is sent greater than he who sent him.” The point is simply this: If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them.

Conclusion

It seems to me that there is ample warrant for permanently changing the liturgical rule which restricts foot-washing to males, as maleness plays no significant role in this context. The priest represents Christ; in washing the feet of those who depend upon him for spiritual good, he demonstrates the essential note of ministerial humility and self-abasement in genuine service. And any person who receives such service is called, in Christ’s name, to do the same for others.

But it remains to be seen whether Pope Francis intends to change this rule. Retaining the restriction has one value; it makes the current liturgical context seem materially more similar to the context of the Last Supper, even though the use of layman renders the scene theologically dissimilar, and this particular similarity or dissimilarity seems to be essentially irrelevant to Our Lord’s point. It is at least possible that restriction to males has become something of a patriarchal anachronism. It is certainly possible that insistence on this rubric actually now obscures what it was originally intended to clarify. But again, whether the Pope intends to change the norm remains to be seen.

What is important, however, is that we ought not to be jumping to conclusions about Pope Francis based on his suspension of a rubric when washing feet at a special Mass for prisoners who were both male and female. The effort to read something deeply sinister into this is not only futile but sinfully presumptuous. It suggests a certain Pharisaism which those who pride themselves on tradition and orthodoxy must be very careful to guard against. In fact, I think the wisdom of an old adage is once again verified in this case of the Mandatum: When your only tool is a hammer, everything begins to look like a nail. And that is not a good thing at all.