From the Sacred to the Secular

The Third Assembly of the World Council of Churches took place in 1961; in mood and spirit, it might have been 50 years away from the Fourth Assembly. At New Delhi, World Council delegates were still primarily concerned with the ecclesiastical and theological problems of church union. The marching orders issued by the Fourth Assembly in Uppsala, which ended last week, were primarily secular rather than sacred. In a series of concrete, specific resolutions, the 700 delegates from 235 Protestant, Anglican and Orthodox churches at the Uppsala meeting called upon their fellow Christians to redirect their attention to the social, political and economic problems facing mankind.

To a large extent, the worldly orientation of the messages reflected the growing influence of churchmen from the "third world" of Africa, Asia and Latin America, who are less concerned with theological niceties than with committing the church to support of the poor and the underprivileged. There were 32 delegates from developing nations, for example, on the 105-man committee that drafted the document on peace and international justice, which not only condemned the use of nuclear weapons in war but also gave support to the idea of selective pacifism. Traditionally, Christian moral theology has accepted conscientious objection only on the all-or-nothing basis of opposition to all warfare. Reflecting a new consensus of pacifists, both religious and secular, the council's resolution declared that churches should "give spiritual care and support to those who object to participation in particular wars they feel bound in conscience to oppose."

Dangerous Innovation. The measure was not passed without opposition. Governor Harold Le Vander of Minnesota, an American Lutheran delegate to the council, called selective pacifism "a very dangerous innovation." He argued that "the conscience is a quite elastic thing, and we may find ourselves endorsing people who feel they should stay out of a war because they have a family or think they have an important job."

Third-world delegates also had a large hand in shaping the council's statement on world economic and social devel opment, which underscored the gap between rich and poor nations. The document declared that it was the "duty" of churches in industrialized nations to influence their governments on behalf of increases in foreign aid and trade agreements favoring underdeveloped lands. One proposal that is likely to get lukewarm response was that individual Christians, through voluntary donations, give a percentage of their own income to development aid, making up the difference between what their governments spend on this cause and what they should spend.

Spiritual Ghetto. Even the council's statement on renewal in mission had a predominantly secular outlook. "Words of proclamation," the statement warned, "are doubted when the church's own life fails to embody the marks of the new humanity and when it is preoccupied with its own numerical strength. Too many of our discussions are about the internal concerns of our fellowship, too many statistical forms ask only about the budget and fluctuations in attendance and not about outreach and service. The Christian community needs renewal, lest it become a spiritual ghetto." The council also suggested that missionary activities should "place the church alongside the poor, the defenseless, the abused, the forgotten."

By contrast, the ecclesiastical statements of the council seemed mild and almost irrelevant. The document on worship, for example, suggested that there should be changes in language, vestments and ceremonies in order to make prayer services more intelligible. Ecumenically, the council took a major step forward by issuing, for the first time, an open invitation to the Roman Catholic Church to join the World Council. Although theologians recognize the practical problems that would be involved if Catholics should become mem bers of the council, churchmen active in Christian-unity proposals have long considered the prospect inevitable. Hardly an eyebrow was raised when Roman Catholic observers at Uppsala took Communion, as if it were a matter of course, at a Swedish Lutheran High Mass.

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