“There is not and there never was on this earth a work of human policy so well deserving of examination as the Roman Catholic Church....

She saw the commencement of all the governments and of all the ecclesiastical establishments that now exist in the world; and we feel no assurance that she is not destined to see the end of them all. She was great and respected before the Saxon had set foot on Britain, before the Frank had passed the Rhine, when Grecian eloquence still flourished in Antioch, when idols were still worshipped in the temple of Mecca.

And she will still exist in undiminished vigor when some traveler shall, in the midst of a vast solitude, take his stand on a broken arch of London Bridge to sketch the ruins of St. Paul’s.”

So writes the renowned British historian, Lord Thomas Babington Macauley, an ode to the papacy made all the more significant by the fact that he described himself as “no friend of Catholicism.”

Next Wednesday, Feb. 22, the church celebrates the Feast of the Chair of St. Peter. A “chair,” of course, symbolizes authority. Never will I forget the feeling of sadness that came upon my family as we gathered for dinner on Easter Sunday, 1977, only a week after dad’s sudden death. Just by nature, no one sat in the chair dad had always occupied at the table, and, seeing it empty as we all gathered around left not one dry eye at the table.

The “chair” of Peter has deep meaning for us as Catholics. (By the way, the Latin word for chair is sede, which is where we get our phrase, “Holy See.”) I have been so moved by the reaction of visitors to the exhibit now at the Milwaukee Public Museum, “St. Peter and the Vatican: the Legacy of the Popes.” The curators report a mood of awe and reverence among the thousands of visitors, as they realize there is something transcendent, a sacred element, in this office of St. Peter and his successors, the popes.

Scholars, historians, artists, diplomats, and the curious all have a legitimate interest in the papacy, for, as Lord Macauley pointed out, its history is, in many ways, synonymous with the development of Western civilization. Thomas Woods notes in his recent bestseller, “How the Catholic Church Saved Civilization,” that the papacy is responsible for much of the progress in law, education, science, civil rights, diplomacy, art, welfare, and health care that we now take for granted.

Of course, not all the popes cause us pride. As I used to comment at the beginning of the course I taught in “The History of the Papacy,” the story of some of the scandal, shock, and sin of those who occupied the Chair of Peter would make a modern soap opera look tame. Eamon Duffy aptly titled his masterful saga of the popes, “Saints and Sinners.”

Such a checkered history only deepens the faith of a believer who trusts in the words of Jesus that he would always be with his church. He must be, for otherwise the church could hardly have survived some of the knaves and scoundrels — few though they are in number — who have served as Bishop of Rome!

As reaction to the exhibit shows, or, as last year’s universal interest in the death of John Paul II and election of Benedict XVI proved, there is something deep and mysterious in this office of the successor of St. Peter, something that the corruption of individual pontiffs cannot destroy, something put there by Jesus himself.

After all, the first pope, Peter, was hardly a gem. Impetuous, cowardly, impatient, self-serving — yet, a man of faith, love, and trust, the one entrusted with the keys (the other symbol of the papacy) by the Lord himself.

Yes, the papacy has been and is controversial, the object of intense love and loyalty, and of bitter hatred and ridicule.

We Catholics consider the papacy a gift from Jesus, a wonderful way in which Jesus remains with us as shepherd and teacher. We look to the man who sits in the Chair of St. Peter as our Holy Father, as the vicar of Christ on earth, as the universal pastor. His authority is normative, essential, formative for us as Catholics.

That symbolic Chair of St. Peter might be old, chipped, worn, and often in need of some repair. But it is durable, strong, and reliable. The man who sits in it is a blessing and gift to us. In the words of the Second Vatican Council, he is the earthly source of unity and authority in the church.