Prayers for the Scottish Dead

At the conclusion of St. Adomnan's Life of St. Columba, about which I previously wrote, a transcriber appended a fascinating note:

"Whoever may read these books about St. Columba's miraculous powers, pray to God for me Dorbbene that after death I may have life eternal."

Adomnan's work was written c. 690 AD.  I don't know when Dorbbene made his transcription, but he was a successor of St. Adomnan, not more than nine years after the latter's death.  That means that in early Celtic Christianity, often noted for its development free and clear from Roman influence, prayers for the dearly departed were firmly in place -- so much so that a transciber would seek out the prayers of his readers.  

The Catholic apologist will note that prayers for the dead are recorded within the deuterocanon, and that may very well be true.  So I don't raise this point to surprise anyone at the ancient pedigree of such prayers.  I'm just [b]logging my interest in the note concluding the transcription, and the Protestant's inability to attribute this to "papish" influences.

Called to Communion

Please visit a new website project in which I am enthusiastically engaged: Called to Communion: Reformation Meets Rome.

We have just launched, choosing Ash Wednesday as our kick-off. Spread the word with all those who may be interested in engaging in the discussion. The contributors are all Catholics who converted from Reformed protestantism (plus me). Among them are several seminary graduates, notable Reformed seminaries at that.

I can attest to the group's sincere desire to have a charitable discussion in the pursuit of Truth, for the sake of our obedience to God's will. Our aim is to write in a more thoughtful, more carefully edited way than blogs typically allow. This is our small contribution to the pursuit of unity among Christ's followers, that we may be truly one body, one vine. I believe this to be the end of properly oriented ecumenism.

RCIA and Discernment

I have been enrolled in a local Catholic catechises class since last September. This class, known as the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults, or RCIA, is designed to train unbaptized people who wish to become Christian, as well as baptized Christians who wish to enter into full communion with the Catholic Church. By design, it culminates in the Easter Vigil, at which the appropriate initiatory sacraments are administered: Baptism if not previously administered, Confirmation, and the Eucharist.

Enrolling in the class was a difficult decision, but staying un-enrolled seemed no easier. I wanted to enroll because I believed I needed to be put in a more consistent pattern of training for my own discernment about the Christian Church. Prior to that point, studying Catholicism had been too easy to walk away from, then rush back into, only to walk away again upon becoming desolate over some foreign teaching or other. It was difficult to enroll, though, because I had anxiety that the momentum of the class toward the Easter Vigil would make the outcome all but inevitable.

How has it turned out? Well, I'm not even sure. I do know that there is a certain momentum toward the Vigil. But several fellow candidates are not intent on joining, so the momentum is not inescapable. The consistency of weekly study of Catholic teachings has been beneficial, even if I had previously exposed myself to most of those teachings. There has been less of a focus on the discernment process itself than I had hoped, but given that this is a one hour / week class, my hopes were misplaced.

I have been able to focus particularly on discernment itself, i.e. reflecting on God's will and calling for His people and for me in particular, through other means. Meeting with my protestant pastor and with the priest who teaches RCIA has been challenging and enriching. Best of all was a three-day silent 'retreat' I was able to attend, taught by a priest of the Institute of the Incarnate Word, which used the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises. There is nothing quite like shutting up for a few days, and committing oneself completely to prayer. Staring Catholicism, particularly Marianism, in the face for that weekend was a struggle. Here, like with my RCIA class, I did not walk away with a clean and easy answer. Discernment, like movement, is a process, and I have had to accept the necessity of patience.

So here I am, a day away from Lent and a few weeks away from the Easter Vigil, uncertain of what I will do. As a baptized Christian, I could enter at another time by making proper arrangements, so I needn't have a "now or never" perspective. I have a growing perception of how difficult Faith is, and how easy Doubt is: I can call all foreign truth-claims into doubt, and huddle in my little corner of familiarity, ignoring the forces pulling me out. Faith is so easily shattered, ever vulnerable but for the Grace of our exceedingly gracious God.

No one said this would be easy.

Universal Priesthood

A common argument used against the priesthood of the Catholic Church is that a select cast of priestly mediators is no longer needed on earth, since all Christians are part of a "holy priesthood," and since Christ's mediatory sacrifice is sufficient once and for all.

The second part of the argument is based on a misunderstanding of the mediation provided by the Catholic priest, specifically, the re-presentation of Christ's once-and-for-all sacrifice on Calvary (see Fr. James T. O'Connor, The Hidden Manna (2d ed. 2005)). As there is no presentation of, or mediation by a new sacrifice, Christ's perfectly sufficient sacrifice suffers no derogation. Thus, I will focus on the other part of the argument, which sees a priestly cast as contrary to the Bible's description of a priesthood of all believers.

This view is founded on 1 Peter 2:4-5, where the Apostle says, "As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to him — you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. (NIV)"

But a general priestly office (held by all believers) excludes a particular priestly office no more than the general "offering" of "spiritual sacrifices" excludes the particular offering of Christ's sacrifice on Calvary. In fact, that a general priesthood can exist along with a particular priestly cast is proven by the Pentateuch. Exodus 19:3-6, depicts Moses receiving a message from the Lord for the house of Jacob and the people of Israel: "Although the whole earth is mine, you will be for me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation." But the existence of this general priesthood of all of God's people did not bar David from raising up a priestly tribe as described in 1 Chronicles 23 ff.

I am a layman. I do not know whether, in the development of eucharistic and episcopal doctrine, the eventual use of the word "priest" was the perfect choice. But I do know that the arguments against its use suffer from the aforesaid deficiencies. I also know that the classical Protestant term "minister" itself implies some mediation -- it means (in its verb form) "to administer or dispense." The Reformed minister dispenses God's grace via the word and sacraments. The very act of dispensing what is not one's own is a mediatory act. Therefore, if some human mediation denies Christ's sole mediation, then out with that term too.

Exorcism: a Study on Faith and Matter

Fr. Gabriele Amorth's An Exorcist Tells His Story was not precisely what I expected, but entirely worth the read. I expected the book to be a series of sci-fi-like accounts of demon encounters and exorcisms. Instead, it was a masterful blend of describing the exorcist's practice, giving vignettes of demonic encounters, and articulating the theological realities at play during these encounters.  The need for exorcisms is great, Fr. Amorth explains, even if encounters with actual demons are rare.  

I was struck, in reading this book, by the dependent relationship between spirit and matter. This is a perspective that is absent in Reformed groups, but perhaps more active in Pentecostal sects. The Reformed view tends to see matter as either leading to idolatry, as our attraction to it grows and replaces our spiritual devotion to Christ, or irrelevant. Either way, the matter itself is not seen as possessing a spiritual quality; the concern is over our negative spiritual persuasion toward matter. 

But in conducting an exorcism, matter is highly relevant, and demonstrative of spirital truth. At one point Fr. Amorth attributed 10% of the efficacy of an exorcism to the sacramental objects used (e.g., holy oils and water, his stole, or the laying on of his hands).  The remainder of an efficacious exorcism he attributed to the victim's participation in the sacramental life of the Church, the victim's prayerfulness, the prayers of his family and community, and the faith of those involved in the exorcism in Christ's power over real demons.  In this way the spiritual quality of blessed matter is neither denied nor magnified to the derogation of the need for faith and prayer.

I see a close analogy between the small but essential role of matter in exorcisms to the small but efficacious role of other matter in Catholic practice.  When the Church extols the virtues of relics, blessed icons, or the like, the Protestant sees nothing better than superstition (and perhaps even idolatry).  "How can some silly piece of bone make a faithless house safe from harm?", we might ask.  If the analogy to Fr. Amorth's expertise with exorcisms holds, the answer is that the relic will likely not be efficacious absent some faith.  

Fr. Amorth rounds out his book with a frank tongue-lashing of those within the Catholic Church (especially bishops) who have neglected its own instruction on providing an exorcist in each diocese.  He attributes this failure to such causes as a lack of belief that demons are real in practice, and to fear of retribution from demons that are exorcised (which results from a lack of faith in God's protection).  But the biblical and patristic account of the demon world, which he forcefully articulates, puts the strange reality of demons before us. Denial of their continuing reality by one committed to Scripture and tradition seems inexcusable.  

Of particular interest to this ecumenist was Fr. Amorth's expressions of solidarity with Protestants who believe in demons and practice exorcism.  He expresses with admiration their faithfulness in this regard, while simultaneously castigating those within Catholicism who have here departed from 'the Christian faith.'  

The Denominational Marketplace

This month's Christianity Today contains a provocative article entitled Jesus Is Not A Brand (Tyler Wigg-Stevenson, p.20, Jan. 2009).  In it, the author analyzes the conflation of evangelism with sales marketing.  He states:

The de-churched nature of our theology makes evangelism hard to do without seeming salesy, because churchless evangelism unavoidably promotes a consumerist soteriology.  When it's just you and Jesus, you (the consumer) "invite him" (the product) "into your heart" (brand adoption) and "get saved" (consumer gratification).

Id. at p.22.

While distinct from the main focus of Wigg-Stevenson's discussion, his painting of religious decisions in the light of the American consumerist mentality provides insight into the denominational marketplace as well. The reactions I have received from fellow Reformed Christians to Catholicism's arguments are understandable when viewed through the consumerist lens: "I would agree with them if it weren't for their adoption of doctrine X," or "I just can't stomach the Catholic culture."

The presumption in these conversations seems to be that I was dissatisfied with my present ecclesial selection, so I returned to the denominational marketplace to see if I could find a better fit.  We happen to live in an era where many can be 'choosers.'  As choosers, we approach the ecclesial buffet and ponder what is the best fit for our meal tastes.  And being used to making choices catered to our particular predilections, we are (no doubt) hesitant to set our tastes to one side when choosing or re-choosing church.  

To use another analogy to describe the reactions I get when discussing Catholicism's claims, it is as if my brethren respect the reasons a minivan might meet my needs, but see that such an automobile would clearly fail to meet their own.  A van's fundamentals would be inadequate for the task at hand; it would be the wrong choice for them.  Many may even think it is the wrong choice for me (or anyone at all); my point is that they are prepared to respect some positive aspects of the minivan, even if they believe its purchase is the wrong choice from the market.

But those who have presumed that my momentum toward the Catholic Church began its course because I desired high-church over low-, unity over adherence to truth, holiness over anti-Pelagianism, or whatever other motive is attributed to my market selection, are badly mistaken.

The fallacy, I believe, is in conceptualizing the sects of Christianity as market choices of varying merit (or worse, as fungible commodities), instead of fragmented pieces of one body, badly in need of organic unity.  I am not close to leaving my present denominational market choice because of deficiencies in the choice qua choice.  The terms of that analysis are entirely wrong.  I encountered truth-claims that conflicted with my denomination's truth-claims, and which my denomination's teachings could not resolve (viz., the post hoc answering of the Canon Question, and the absence of authority to be a schismatic church).

There is no market choice to make.  Minivans and station wagons are both types of automobiles. They both get passengers and cargo to a destination.  Corn and rice are both types of side dishes that can nourish the body.  One of those could be a less desirable choice, a bad choice, or even a wrong choice for one, many or all people.  But if the Catholic ecclesiological view is entertained, we could view the buffet as containing one dish of real food, and other dishes that are not food at all (a few options may even be poisonous). 

My challenge in explaining the claims of Catholicism and its critiques of the Protestant Reformation is in avoiding the impression that I simply find Catholicism preferable to competing choices such as the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA).  (A conclusion with which they can simply and readily disagree.)  Rather, the discussion must demonstrate that Catholicism claims itself to be without competitor, the one Church to which we are all called to be in communion.  

Like all bold assertions, this is a difficult one to make. Discussing the merits of our respective sects, and then explain away our conflicting conclusions as being the result of weighing various qualities in different ways, would make for a much more comfortable conversation.  But the language of market choosing misconstrues our burden to seek unity.

Polycrates: Proto-Protestant, Catholic or Orthodox?

Patiently crawling through Jurgens' The Faith of the Early Fathers, I came upon a fascinating dispute between two ancient bishops of the Church, Polycrates of Ephesus and Victor of Rome (c. 190 A.D.) (Jurgens, Vol. 1, at 82).  Particularly interesting are the sources of authority to which these men appealed or upon which they apparently acted.

According to Eusebius (Church History, Book V, Ch. 23), the bishops of Asia [Minor] followed a tradition dating Easter on the 14th day of Nisan, the date of the Jewish celebration of Passover.  This occurred regardless of the day of the week on which Passover fell.  However, this was "not the custom of the churches in the rest of the world," who instead celebrated Easter on the day "of the Resurrection of our Savior," Sunday (Id.).

St. Victor, the late-second century Bishop of Rome, desired unity in the worldwide Church's observance of Easter (Catholic Encyclopedia: Pope St. Victor I).  He called together the Italian bishops in what is the earliest known Roman synod.  He also "wrote to the leading bishops of the various districts, urging them to call together the bishops of their sections of the country and to take counsel with them on the question of the Easter festival." (Id.).  In the east, he wrote to Bishop Polycrates, leader of bishops of Asia Minor, to induce him to call a council of Asian bishops to address the matter. 

Responses from all fronts but Asia affirmed the celebration of Easter on Sunday.  Bishop Polycrates rejected Bishop Victor's instruction to change the celebration date (Jurgens, at 83).  Eusebius records that Victor excommunicated the Asian bishops in response, and for this strong-arm tactic, received the reproof of several (Church History, Book V, Ch. 24).  Jurgens states that information of this excommunication is "held in considerable suspicion," and that the likes of St. Irenaeus, who pleaded for toleration for the sake of unity, may have held Victor to a mere threatening of excommunication (Jurgens at 82).  

Little else is known about this early dispute, but much of informative value can be derived.  Some have cited the episode as evidence that Polycrates represents a proto-Protestant Bible Christian, and that the Roman Bishop holds no special authority.  (Note that for such Christians it inexplicably does not follow that we must celebrate Easter on Nisan 14.)  But the events surrounding Polycrates' letter of rejection have also been interpreted as showing the opposite proposition, i.e., Victor's headship over "Catholic Christendom" (Cath. Encyc.: Pope St. Victor I). 

So was Polycrates' view of authority proto-Protestant, Catholic or Orthodox?  In his letter rejecting Sunday Easter, he clearly states the authorities by which he refuses Victor's instruction.  He first cites the Nisan 14 Easter tradition in Asia, held by the likes of the Apostle Philip, the Apostle John, Polycarp, and other departed saints, as well as his own bishop-kinsmen who preceded him.  He then states that this traditional observance is "according to the Gospel" and an adherence "to the rule of faith."  He notes his seasoned age, his acquaintance with "the brethren throughout the world," and his having "read through the entire Holy Scriptures," and declares that he is not afraid of the threats of men, but must rather obey God.  Finally, he relies upon the consensus of the "most numerous" bishops he called together upon Victor's request, who approved of Polycrates' own view (Church History, Book V, Ch. 24). 

Polycrates' appeal to having read the Holy Scriptures, and his chiding use of Acts 5:29 ("We must obey God rather than men.") notwithstanding, it seems hard to mistake his view of authority for the Protestant one.  He relied upon tradition and other authorities before Scripture, and he lived in an age of an open canon.  Polycrates hardly can be claimed to have abided by the rule of sola Scriptura.  Whichever of these two adversaries one fancies in this dispute, one is fancying some view of authority other than the Protestant one.

Far more from Polycrates' letter resembles the Orthodox view on authority: a primary reliance on tradition, including an invocation of named Apostles preceding him in his particular church; adherence to the "rule of faith"; the supposed universality of the held belief; the Holy Scriptures; and the agreement of a council of bishops (see Tradition in the Orthodox Church, available here).  Indeed, the authority to which Polycrates appealed in rejecting Victor seems distinct from the Catholic view only in his rejection of the universal authority of the Bishop of Rome.

But whatever we say of Polycrates, we must not lose sight of Victor -- calling for councils, ruling on a divisive matter, receiving obedient rebuke (save for Polycrates).  And ultimately, although the details are lost to history, one must take note of the fact that Victor's determination carried the day.  It is interesting that papal primacy has not been so self-evident as to be a sine qua non of faithful catholicity throughout the ages, especially in the east.  Rather, its necessity in the face of heresy or adversity seems to have propped up progressively germinating forms of the doctrine.  Whatever the lesson of Polycrates and Victor for today, it is much nearer an analogy to the dispute between the separated Orthodox and Latin Churches than to the dispute between the Latin Church and Protestant groups. 

Exclusion and Private Revelation

Courts exist as truth-finding bodies. One of the primary tools for determining the truth is to carefully control the pieces of information, or evidence, that are presented to the "finder of fact" for consideration. Is the fact-finder allowed to know that the defendant committed the same crime of which he is accused years before? That the witness has a history of lying? Often evidence will be excluded because its 'probative value is outweighed by its prejudicial effect'. That is, it makes for a greater hindrance in the truth-seeking process than it is a help. If evidence that should have been excluded is admitted, you have a mistrial on your hands, and need a new, untainted fact-finder.

Stuck in this mindset as I am, I often consider parallels or analogies between what is done at law, and what is done by the Christian Church.

The Catholic Church asserts that it (or she) does not consider private revelation in reaching its general doctrines. Its Catechism says that private revelations, even if recognized by the Church "do not belong, however, to the deposit of faith" (Para. 67). While general (public) revelation "ended with the preaching of the Apostles and must be believed by all," the Church imposes no obligation on the faithful to believe private revelations (Catholic Encyclopedia, Private Revelations).

The skeptic in me wonders whether this is so, or if the Catholic Church has (rather) imposed private revelations on the faithful via the back door, as influential evidence in the formation of a general doctrine or dogma. (I admit I am being a skeptic, which entails my skepticism of the Catholic claim that the Holy Spirit preserves the Church from error -- Lord willing, I will overcome my skepticism soon.)

In writing this post, I tried to give a few examples that had come to mind related to the more famous Marian apparitions and the two most recently proclaimed Marian dogmas. In both instances, I had my factual chronology mistaken -- the private revelations I had in mind occurred just after the proclamations were given by the Church. I take that as a sign against my premise of the influence of private revelation, but would appreciate any contributions noting where private-revelation-induced popular support for a dogma possibly led to a dogmatic formulation. Toward the contrary, I welcome any contributions noting how my premise is false.



I believe what drives my inquiry here is my difficulty with the claim that Catholics can disbelieve any particular private revelation, in light of the widespread and official use of things like the image of Mary from Guadalupe. It seems these private events have been subsumed into the psyche of the Catholic faithful. I suppose psyche does not equal regula fidei...

Protestant Conversions Critique: Church Envy

[This will conclude my previous two posts, here and here, discussing Mr. David Hagopian's article analyzing Protestant conversions to Catholicism.] Mr. Hagopian wraps up his analysis of why Protestants convert by pointing out instances from conversion stories where converts appear to have been taken in by glimmer over theology.

Church Envy. Under his heading "Liturgical Longings", Mr. Hagopian describes the converts' "hysteria" over what they perceive to be beauty (even sublimity) in the mass. A liturgy-is-beautiful claim fails to be a persuasive ground for conversion in several ways.

First, for many people taken in by this liturgical luster, "it is the kind of worship with which they have grown up." But "just because we are accustomed to something, just because we have a fondness for something, or just because we may long for the good ol' days, doesn't mean that what we are accustomed to, fond of, or long for is necessarily right." I completely agree, but this was not the claim of the converts (that they were seeking to return to the familiar). Rather, the claim was that the liturgy and the mass have inherent beauty, and as Mr. Hagopian does not deny this here, I presume the point remains unmoved.

Second, he observes, Neocatholics claim to be drawn to the liturgy because "the liturgy, for the most part, is the same no matter which Catholic church a parishioner attends." But "[s]ameness, however, is no guarantor of propriety. After all, something can be the same and yet be erroneous...". I completely agree, but I doubt that any converts were arguing that the liturgy is true because it is the same everywhere. My observation has been that converts claim, rather, that the Catholic Church's liturgical practices are beautiful in part because they are consistent across the Church. That there is a laudable quality to Christians worshipping in unity remains unmoved.

One argument briefly noted, and a decent one, is that love of liturgy is no reason for conversion, because other churches have liturgy too (he noted the Orthodox, Episcopals and Lutherans). I wonder though how Mr. Hagopian feels about those other bodies, or why he would be more opposed to a brother converting to Catholicism over Orthodoxy (or Episcopalianism!).



Under the heading "All That Glimmers", Mr. Hagopian describes how several converts were taken in by the physical beauty of Catholic church buildings (columns, stained glass, candlelight and all). He notes a common claim of metaphysical experiences along the road to conversion. But these experiences "do not prove that Catholicism is true". Also, they do not prove Protestantism false, as the liturgical Protestant denominations have qualities of physical beauty as well.

This argument confuses the burdens of proof. Indeed the claimed beauty of Catholic services or buildings does not prove it to be true, but I have never heard any convert claim that is was such a proof. I have heard them say that this beauty drew them in enough to consider the Catholic theological claims of truth. Those claims are what should be weighed when deciding whether Catholicism is true or false. When tracing the Church from the time of Christ and the Apostles to the present, the burden is on the believer to prove the point at which Catholicism became false, and not the opposite. If one must prove Catholicism remained true at each moment in history, then one is facing a perpetual presumption that it is false. Such a standard both leads to fallacy and is uncharitable.

Mr. Hagopian considers other reasons for conversion, but I will stop here to mitigate the risk of going on for too long. I believe we can learn from his discussion of conversions (which is implicitly a portion of a larger discussion on ecumenicity) that default positions and burdens of proof can wreak havoc on the goal of unity. It is so easy to lay waste to an opponent by setting a high bar of proof against his position, and asserting that he has not met it (in our own judgment). I believe that this does not meet the charitable standard of fraternal conduct by which we are bound to treat one another in the Body of Christ. I see this failure on all fronts, and pray that I could avoid this myself in the future (for I have certainly failed in the past).

"Act of Contrition"

I recently learned of this prayer, the "Act of Contrition":

"O my God,
I am heartily sorry for
having offended Thee,
and I detest all my sins,
because I dread the loss of heaven,
and the pains of hell;
but most of all because
they offend Thee, my God,
Who are all good and
deserving of all my love.
I firmly resolve,
with the help of Thy grace,
to confess my sins,
to do penance,
and to amend my life.

Amen. (emphasis added)"

Coming from a Reformed paradigm, this notion that I should "dread the loss of heaven" is striking. It flies in the face of the Calvinist teaching of "Perseverance of the Saints", that is, "that gracious work of God’s sanctification whereby He enables a saved person to persevere to the end. Even though the process of sanctification is not complete in this life, from God’s perspective it is as good as accomplished" (A Brief History: Presbyterian Church in America, available here).

An analogy from the Law of Property seems appropriate. We tend to discuss salvation in terms of "having" it. We are inclined to say "I pray she could receive salvation" or "I am saved" (which means I possess the quality of being saved). We do not mean we have what Property Law would describe as a "present use and enjoyment" of salvation. That will only come when we are taken into Glory. Therefore, I will analogize views of Salvation to future property interests, i.e., legal interests which do not allow the owner present use and enjoyment of a property.

In property terms, Christians talk about their salvation as a vested possession, as opposed to a contingent possession. The latter is not your possession unless some contingency first occurs. The Baptist may say that their child's coming into possession of salvation is contingent on their first having "saving faith". But at that point it would vest. The Reformed might say that their children, as members of the Church visible have a vested interest in salvation already (or they may not; it is a debated point).

So once we conclude that we "are saved", so that no contingency stands between us and being members of the body of Christ, we need to decide whether that future interest in salvation (remember: it's future because you're not in Heaven yet) is something we can or cannot lose.

The Reformed will argue that our salvation is an indefeasibly vested possession. Sparing a painfully long definition, the gist of this legal concept is that, while you cannot "use and enjoy" your property at present (say, a house), it is legally yours because you are certain to come into a present use and enjoyment of it at some point. If you die too soon, your heirs will take it. You can sell this future property interest. You can impose legal obligations on the present users of the property. It is your possession.

Contrarily, the Catholic or Baptist might say that "our salvation" is vested subject to defeasance. Unlike the contingent possession, which was dependent on some condition first happening before you could "have" salvation, the vested interest subject to defeasance can be completely lost upon the happening of some subsequent event. E.g., if you fall into mortal sin, your salvation has been defeased. Here we have the dreaded possibility of losing Heaven in the "Act of Contrition".

So the question seems to be, is our Salvation indefeasible? Paul says, in describing Christian virtues, "Therefore, my brothers, be all the more eager to make your calling and election sure. For if you do these things, you will never fall" (2 Peter 1:10; please read in context). Also, "continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose" (Philippians 2:12-13). The "if" in the former verse at least implies the possibility of an "if not", which in turn sounds like a defeasible possession of salvation. If my legal interest in (say) my parents' house is indefeasibly vested, I no longer have to make my possession of it sure. I do not have to "work out" my coming into possession. I do not need to concern myself with staying in their good graces, for they have already given up any legal right to rescind my future interest. Again, "I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize" (1 Corinthians 9:27). If the prize of salvation were indefeasibly vested, it would already have been awarded -- it cannot be lost. My reading of these passages, I submit for your consideration, leads me to believe that Paul's view of salvation is much more analogous to a defeasible possession of salvation than to an indefeasible one.

I'm sorry if I lost you on this post.

[Note: Property is complex, and I fudged some things to keep this from getting any more onerous than it is. If you want to hammer out the finer details of Executory Interests, my use of "possession" over "interest", or the like, I'm game.]

"Futile Reform"

In his days as Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Pope Benedict XVI put together a book from a collection of smaller writings and speeches. This book, Called to Communion, his been a bit of a treasure trove for me. It is short, and fairly accessible, both benefits during a rather busy period in my life.

In his chapter entitled "A Company in Constant Reform", Benedict XVI takes up the matter of futile reforms. Here's a section that I found noteworthy, so I share it here:

[Concerning this work of reform, e]verything that men make can also be undone again by others. Everything that has its origin in human likes can be disliked by others. Everything that one majority decides upon can be revoked by another majority. A church based on human resolutions becomes a merely human church. It is reduced to the level of the makeable, of the obvious, of opinion. Opinion replaces faith. And in fact, in the self-made formulas of faith with which I am acquainted, the meaning of the words "I believe" never signifies anything beyond "we opine". Ultimately, the self-made church savors of the "self", which always has a bitter taste to the other self and just as soon reveals its petty insignificance. A self-made church is reduced to the empirical domain and thus, precisely as a dream, comes to nothing. (emphasis added)

I find it inescapable to see that, in choosing between a Catholic/Orthodox model of Church and a Protestant/Post-protestant model, we are choosing between a God-made and a man-made institution. "A self-made church...comes to nothing" indeed.

Good Pope, Bad Pope

After Pope Benedict XVI's recent Papal Visit to the United States, Protestant voices have been surprisingly affable in speaking about the man. I don't doubt that his visit left a positive impression for many Protestants. One fellow blogger spoke of the effect that the Pope's visit had on his decision to return to Catholicism. For Protestants willing to consider that a man can be both Pope and a Christian, I imagine most see "B16" as a good Pope. And the same would be said, I imagine, of his predecessor.

But I wonder whether there would be so much discussion of Protestant conversions to Catholicism if we had a really bad pope - a horrible, wicked pope? It seems that when one accepts Catholicism as the proper constitution of Christ's Church, one should not have their faith in the Church swayed at all if a future pope turned out to be a wicked person.



Separate to my discernment on the faith, I've been reading about how the principle of freedom of the seas flows from the political guile of Pope Alexander VI (d. 1503). In a story of political intrigue, he issued a papal bull granting sovereignty to certain states over parts of the sea (thereby excluding others from those areas of the sea). For example, he divided the Atlantic Ocean, giving half to Spain and half to Portugal. Because of this, the Dutch and British were excluded from the lucrative East Indies trade. (Aside: this later led to the Dutch hiring the famous Hugo Grotius (d. 1645) (Protestant) to find a way around the pesky Bull, and the principle of freedom of the seas (embodied in Mare Liberum) was born.)

At any rate, strife-filled international politicking, and the practices of simony and nepotism (for the children born of the Papal Mistress) in Alexander's life are enough to tell me that he was not what even open-minded modern evangelicals would call a good pope. It reminded me that times have not always been so good for the Catholic Magisterium.

I do not mean to dismiss the truth that wicked people and brokenness drive lost souls away from Christ and His Church. That certainly will always be the case, and seems rooted in many points of Scripture (not least of which is John 17). But I still have to ask (of myself) the hypothetical: if the next pope were an Alexander VI, would I still find the arguments for Catholicism and Apostolic succession convincing? Am I merely persuaded by pleasant conditions? One buying Apostolic succession must be accept this possibility and place it in its proper context.

Works and Deathbed Conversions

I've used My Imitation of Christ, by Thomas à Kempis, as a devotional for some time. It is striking for its call to Christian self-denial and (what I understand to be) asceticism.

There was a time when, early in my learning about the Catholic claims to Truth, I thought I could convince a Catholic brother that his beliefs were contrary to the clear teaching of Scripture. If I say nothing else about those days, I have to say that it was an excellent time of learning about our Faith. What a treasure to engage with a brother when both are deeply committed to searching out the truth, and living it too! I felt exposed, somewhat disconcerted, and very alive and aware of Christ's Lordship. I perceived how small I was, and how big the Church and Christianity are.

At some point in this series of exchanges the gears shifted. Instead of feeling that I could victoriously pour the truth of Scripture over my brother's head, I wound up on my heels, on the defensive. To date, I have not been able to recover. I've forgotten many of the things that led me to that point, but I can still isolate a few. One was an awareness that if contraception was indeed immoral, the Protestant faith had much explaining to do. Another was this devotional by Thomas à Kempis.

With that long-winded narrative out of the way, let me come to my (somewhat non sequitur) point. In Ch. 23, Thomas says speaking of death, "How sad that you do not spend the time in which you might purchase everlasting life in a better way. The time will come when you will want just one day, just one hour in which to make amends, and do you know whether you will obtain it? See, then, dearly beloved, the great danger from which you can free yourself and the great fear from which you can be saved, if only you will always be wary and mindful of death." How fascinating, this familiar idea that with just one hour one could make amends for their sins.

The well-known Catholic priest, Fr. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, O.P. wrote in his book Life Everlasting, "Deathbed conversion, however difficult, is still possible. Even when we see no sign of contrition, we can still not affirm that, at the last moment, just before the separation of soul from body, the soul is definitively obstinate. A sinner may be converted at that last minute in such fashion that God alone can know it."

And to my simple point. The Catholic Church maintains the validity of deathbed conversions. Does not this belief, all on its own, defeat the oft-rendered critique that Catholics believe in salvation by works? I think it does. If some measure of works was necessary to merit salvation, then the infirm sinner lying in a sickly state in his final hours has irreparably lost the chance to perform those works and cannot be saved. So while the Catholic view on salvation is distinct from the Protestant formulation of sola Fide, it requires no more than letting go of obstinacy (presumably in faith). Sola non Petina. No works required.

False Ecumenical Advertising

I'm a fan of the Catholic cable channel EWTN, so don't get me wrong when I say that it is not always, for me, the Cat's Meow.

I found myself a little miffed last night at the discongruity between one program, and that program's description as provided by my "Info" button. The show was called "Micah Project: Tearing Down the Walls that Separate Christians", but the show was in fact more of a "why Michael Cumbi thinks Protestants should become Catholic."

Now, if Catholicism is correct in its assertion that it is the one true Holy Apostolic Church, then its approach to Protestantism should certainly be one of "convert now!". But if that is the Church's position, I don't care for conversion efforts veiled as ecumenical wall-tearing-down. I tuned in hoping to hear how we Protestants and Catholics can better come to terms with one another, and better understand each other's positions. Instead I heard a former fundamentalist talk about why Catholicism is superior (which it may be, but that's beside the point).

As far as conversion stories go, the further a convert's "before" position is from my own, the less I relate to his reasons for conversion. So this wouldn't have been my choice of programming on the conversion front. And it didn't live up to my expectations on the ecumenical front either.

The Micah Project website says the following:

"When the Nation of Israel became a divided kingdom (much like the Church today, Protestant and Catholic) there were certain prophets that gave God’s message to the Northern Kingdom and prophets who spoke for God to the Southern Kingdom. There was one prophet, however, who had a message from God for both kingdoms, that was the prophet Micah."

I don't want to nit-pick, and I really do hope God blesses my brother Mr. Cumbie in his efforts at reconciling Christians together. I'm concerned though that the Judah-Israel : Catholic-Protestant analogy does not align with the Catholic position on Protestantism. In fact, I'm pretty certain that the saying "the Church today, Protestant and Catholic" will grate on a few of my Catholic friends' nerves. They would say that I am outside of "the Church today" precisely because I am Protestant. Also, I was hoping that Mr. Cumbie had a message for "both kingdoms", but instead thought he was a 'Judean' with a message for the 'other Kingdom'...

I'll leave my criticism at that. If anyone else saw the show and felt otherwise, I'd enjoy being put in my place.

That We Might Become God

I read this yesterday in the Catholic Catechism, and felt a little confused by it (emphasis added):

460 The Word became flesh to make us "partakers of the divine nature":[] "For this is why the Word became man, and the Son of God became the Son of man: so that man, by entering into communion with the Word and thus receiving divine sonship, might become a son of God."79 "For the Son of God became man so that we might become God."80 "The only-begotten Son of God, wanting to make us sharers in his divinity, assumed our nature, so that he, made man, might make men gods."81

Footnotes are as follows:
79 St. Irenaeus, Adv. haeres. 3, 19, 1: PG 7/1, 939.
80 St. Athanasius, De inc. 54, 3: PG 25, 192B.
81 St. Thomas Aquinas, Opusc. 57, 1-4.

I do not understand in what sense man might become God. This sentiment, which as far as I know is found only here in the Catechism, reminds me of the Orthodox notion of deification. I was unaware of its firm position within Catholic thought as well. My understanding is that the Orthodox position qualifies the meaning of "become God" to such an extent that I no longer see the purpose of using those words. If I mean to say that in my walk of faith, I can be blessed by the Holy Spirit to take on the very qualities of God's holiness, why not say just that? Why say, "you can become God, but of course I don't mean that in an ontological sense"? Words are delicate things, and weak minds like mine are easily confused and made afoul. Perhaps this is my own problem, and not the Church's though.

Gold Images

Tooling around the EWTN Religious Catalogue, I came across this 14KT Gold "Trinity Crucifix". I would feel like something was wrong if I were purchasing a $600 piece of gold anything to wear around my neck, but considering what my wife's engagement ring cost, perhaps I am short-sighted or hypocritical (or both).

Beyond that though, I do not like this (or any) depiction of God the Father. I believe that depictions of the Father are more modern practices than ancient. I found this Catholic website which denounces depicting the Father as an old man:

The creating of images of God the Father as an old man is to literally create a false god, another idol to worship. It falls short of reflecting upon the true nature of the Divinity of God the Father as He has been [] revealed to us through Jesus Christ and consequently through the Church that has preserved the original teachings of the Apostles.

In addition to this "Trinity Crucifix", I know I've seen an image of the Father with the Son crowning the Virgin Mary on the ceiling of the University of Notre Dame Cathedral (as seen on T.V.), and in the Basilica built at Fatima (also as seen on T.V.).

My subjective belief is that to make a solid gold image of what one imagines God the Father to look like is a foolish thing. Even if I were to accept that the wearer of this precious medal believes it to be only an image and not an idol, I think it is foolery. The Old Testament says, in my subjective interpretation, that no man can see the face of the Father and live. I would not counsel my children to ever depict the Father's face, therefore.

Mary And The Fathers Of The Church

Finished! I finally made it through Fr. Luigi Gambero's Mary and the Fathers of the Church.

While Fr. Gambero is easy to follow, I think I read this book in three different segments. I had to put it down for major life events like a move and law school finals, but also because at times it was deeply difficult emotionally. As a non-Catholic, I did not find the early Church evidence to compellingly point toward modern Catholic Marian expressions and teachings. But I don't think compelling me or making an argument was the author's intent; it should be insightful and edifying for a Catholic reader.

Fr. Gambero ended with John Damascene (d. ca. 750). It wasn't until he covered the later Church Fathers, and only by looking East, that clear expressions of Mary's mediation of all graces, her Assumption, and her Immaculate Conception began to emerge. But giving doctrinal development the room it requests, this late arrival is not of major moment for me.

What was difficult was the opening chapters, which described the spring of Marian developments from which the Church Fathers later drank, the apocryphal Protoevangelium of James. When I read this opening, it was a time when my wife and I were a bit more caustic in our discussions about Catholicism and Orthodoxy. She thought that I was buying books only to learn arguments to support what I had already decided to do in my heart. And I wish it could have been that easy. But even in my time of eagerness, I struggled with the effect this apocryphal text later had. I learned how it "cast an undeniable spell over the Christian mentality of the first centuries" and "profoundly conditioned Christian liturgy, preaching, popular devotion, and art." From it we are told the names of Mary's parents, their sterility, Mary's premature birth, and Mary's presentment at the Temple. Many miraculous events are also described.

For one inclined to panic at the drop of a Marian needle, this was like a cherry bomb dropped into my trousers. It was just too much to handle, and I stopped reading this book further. I'm glad I've been able to get through it since, but still feel anxiety over the influence that this (largely tall) tale had on the Church.

I guess I need to reflect more on the belief that the Holy Spirit allows the Church to preserve and develop doctrines. This could ease my concerns over the use of texts that were outside the deposit of faith as major sources for later development.

However, concerns remain. Marian development strikes me as having a unique historical attribute. While there was great and often painful hedge trimming done in other areas of doctrinal development (for example, anathematizing predestinarianism and semi-Pelagianism alike), I don't think there was similar hedge trimming related to Marian excesses. I was hoping to see in this book that there had been some tension between various ancient scholars on the proper roles and attributes to ascribe to Mary. Instead, I found none. That may be the way the Holy Spirit has chosen to commend a truth. I simply note that it appears different from the development of other doctrine.

"The Catholicity Question"

The Catholicity Question is a new blog with promise:

"For the past decade, I’ve been working, worshipping, and thinking through what various people label “Reformed Catholicism,” “Protesting Catholicism,” or “High Church Calvinism.” I love this world, and have almost joined the Anglican Church on a few occasions. Eastern Orthodoxy holds quite a bit of attraction, but I can’t get over the icons and veneration of the saints. I’m too much of a Protestant to even think about joining the Roman Catholic church, though I read Roman Catholic authors without discrimination."

Argue The Forest, Not The Trees

I blogged here that I could no longer confess the doctrine of sola Scriptura, leaving me in a sort of spiritual no-man's-land. That sentiment has not changed since September 1, 2007, but it has not clearly progressed either.

Marian angst (I use this as a term of art; let me know if you're not sure what I mean) is a recurring problem. At times it feels critically acute, and at other times the sensation is minimal. I believe that it is probably a proxy feeling for overall anxiety over subscribing to a belief that the (i.e., "a", or "one") Church holds infallible interpretive authority over Divine Revelation. Therefore, and because of the formality of its decrees, this feeling is most acute vis-à-vis the Catholic Church, even where the Orthodox Churches may articulate Marian doctrines with stronger emotive language.

So while I have toed the line of entering the Catholic Church for some time, this recurring angst makes me think I need to step back and try as well as possible to objectively recapitulate and reconsider what I believe to be the constitution of Christ's Church. While I realize that I am incapable of objectively viewing the church, I'd like to try all the same. By “objective”, I will mean “expressing or dealing with facts or conditions as perceived without distortion by personal feelings, prejudices, or interpretations” (Merriam-Webster).

I think that I tried something similar here, where I asked five questions related to authority that I hoped were fair and not loaded to lead to a certain conclusion. Here I will try to describe the analytical steps I think I need to pursue, without using the form of question and answer. There’s an old law school trick to writing I’ll use: Issue, Rule, Analysis, Conclusion. I’ll try that here.

To be clear, I don’t mean to discuss issues like whether the Catholics are wrong for 'violating' the “call no man father” verse, or the Orthodox are wrong because they had a Sultan select their hierarch, or the Protestants are wrong for excluding the apocrypha/deuterocanon. My experience is that for every such argument, there is some reply, and for most, there is an able reply. I do mean to discuss the overall analytical framework I think I need to use when considering ecumenicism, and how those facts and arguments should fit within the framework.

ISSUE:

I'd like to consider whether the claims by any one of the major branches of Christianity are objectively superior to the others (I realize this is an idealist approach).

First, I assume that anyone engaged in this discussion, like me, believes and so assumes that Christ is True and not false. From there I assume that each candidate Church model sees at its core a mission to preserve and transmit the Gospel-Truth (i.e., Logos or Word). Other functions of the Church (e.g., sacramental, communal) flow from the substance of the Gospel-Truth that the Church has preserved and transmitted. In this way, the candidates, indeed all of Christianity, aims to bear Witness to the world of the Messiah’s coming. Church, in my expression “candidate Church model” simply means God's people, however additionally defined by the particular candidates (in other words, I don’t mean to load that expression with lots of biased meaning).

So assuming that Christ is True, and that the candidates, as witnesses, all preserve and transmit His Truth, the discussion instantly turns to authority. By what authority does a candidate articulate and develop the Gospel-Truth? Disputes of authority have also been the catalysts of all schism within Christianity, so it’s a natural focal point.

A recent discussion helped me to see three major authority views or camps within Christianity: Papalism, Conciliarism and Biblicism. Each understands the Church's place in transmitting and safeguarding the Logos differently, and each has a different conclusion as to what the primary and subordinate principles of the Logos are. I suppose I could add "Individualist" to these three, which would look approximately like this, "whatever I understand to be true about Jesus from my feelings and from whatever I accept to be true from this book the Bible." I'm not going to add that though.

The nature and essence of the Logos is the fundamental question for the Church; to understand the nature and essence one must understand the Church, to understand the Church, one must see the Church as either Papalist, Conciliarist, or Biblicist (that is, one must have a view of authority). So my issue becomes which of these three camps has the objectively superior claim as preservationist, propagator, and articulator of the Logos.

The Biblicist believes that all authority for the Church is contained within the Bible. The Logos was exclusively preserved within its written contents, and it has been propagated through the ages. In our culture, while Biblicist groups are diverse in outward appearance, they share this view of authority – the Logos is co-extensive with the contents of the Protestant Bible. The Baptists and those that describe themselves as "fundamentalist", many branches of Reformed, Lutheran and other traditional denominations that call themselves "Evangelical", and perhaps Charismatic groups would fall within this camp.

The Conciliarist believes that authority for the Church is contained within ecclesial councils. The Logos has been preserved and propagated within the Bible and articulated by authoritative councils. I have learned of a Protestant group that considers itself conciliarist, but the traditional Anglicans and the Orthodox are also in this camp. They would add that the Logos is preserved and propagated within the Church proper, the Bible representing only a part of this Gospel-Truth. [Note: in an attempt to remain objective, I accept the candidates’ claims as true, so I accept the traditional Anglican position that they are not protestant.]

I am only newly aware of the protestant conciliarist position, known as the "magisterial protestant". This camp believes that the councils of the church, while not the source of all authority, still have real authority. These reformers perceive the state, at least classically, as playing some role in empowering these authorities and enforcing their authority. These reformers seek to turn back to the fundamental roots of the Reformation, and seek to subscribe to its traditional confessions, depending on where one lives (see here for some subscribers to this position). I'm still learning about this view, so I should not try to explain it further. But suffice it to say that the Bible is not the source of all authority to the magisterial protestant conciliarist, but is the source of ultimate authority. Only the Bible is infallible, and all articulation of the Logos will be measured by the authorities (and not the laity) against the Bible.

The Orthodox and the traditional Anglicans are within the Conciliarist camp, and have an older claim to its essence. They are both distinct from the magisterial protestants by their subscription to Apostolic Succession, that is, the belief that their Bishops have ties by succession of ordination back to the Apostles. [Note, again, I accept the traditional Anglican position as true for these purposes.] The authority of the Church and its evangelization and articulation of the Logos subsist within the Church itself. I have only recently begun making myself smart on the Anglo-Catholic view that their ties to the Apostles extend through the days of Henry VIII, so I will stop here (see here for a subscriber to this position). I don't mean to minimize distinctions between traditional Anglicans and the Orthodox (and that would be an absurd undertaking), but only leave it hear because if I tried to go on, I might paint the traditional Anglican position in an unfair light.

Finally, the Papalists (and, as I've learned, this is not the same as the derogatory use of the term "Papist"), who are not just Latin Rite (Roman) Catholics, but also their Eastern rites, believe that the Pope is not only first in honor among Bishops in council, but has actual authority over the other Bishops. Under this view too, authority exists within the Church, but binding dogmatic articulations of the Logos can flow from councils and the Pope alike.

RULE:

By what standard can I objectively judge which candidate is the right witness to and articulation of the Gospel-Truth in the 21st century? I must use reason and faith, which includes prayer, to do so. The Scriptures cannot be an independent standard by which to reach the right conclusion because 1) not all 'candidate' churches believe in the same canon of Scripture, and 2) their interpretation or articulation is part of the very essence of this dispute (i.e., what is the "Truth" handed down through the ages from Christ, assuming He is True). The Scriptures could be used, however, as a measure of the internal integrity of each candidate's claims. E.g., if a book identified by Church X as canonical and infallible says "Blessed are the poor", and that candidate church teaches, "Blessed are the Healthy and Wealthy", we find evidence that Church X is not teaching the Truth of Christ. But ultimately this would only be evidence that must be judged by reason because of competing interpretations and hermeneutic methods. I guess I have no better rule, then, than reason (which gauges the internal integrity of each belief system) informed by faith (which relies on prayer).

ANALYSIS:

I have (personally) ruled out the Biblicist position, as I stated in my post rejecting the validity of the Biblicist view of sola Scriptura cited above. The position lacks internal integrity, as it commands that all authority flows from the Bible alone, yet the Bible does not articulate a Bible alone position, nor is it self-identifying, in terms of its canon. Indeed, a multitude of rationales have been used to justify the existing Protestant canon. I withhold personal judgment on whether the magisterial protestant means something different by “sola Scriptura” than does the Biblicist, and whether his view of authority would allow the creation of canon. I believe that the majority view in my denomination (the PCA) is Biblicist, though there seems to be strong (and perhaps growing) resistance to this position (that is, there are factions of magisterial reformers who recognize the need for other authority, albeit fallible).

I started with the Biblicist position because it could be easily removed from my table. This is my no-man’s land: Church ≠ Biblicism, therefore Church = Conciliarism or Papalism. From here we come to real contention at every turn. I analyze the remaining candidates by first asking whether the Church’s own authority is fallible or infallible. The infallible camp consists of the Orthodox and Catholics, and the fallible camp consists of traditional Anglicans and magisterial Protestants.

I am surprised to find that, so long after I started my meager efforts at discerning the proper constitution of Christ’s Church, I am not certain that it has to be infallible. One of the earliest ‘shoes to drop’ for me was coming to see that a fallible church fallibly identifying a canon of scripture and a doctrine about its infallibility had serious problems of logic. And yet I read the earnestness of certain members of these camps, and can’t help but think that I might just be missing a deeper truth to their views. I still hold out some shred of hope, that the Holy Spirit could work within and preserve even a fallible Church. After all, early particular churches fell into grave error (e.g., the Church at Corinth), as did the Apostle Peter (as Protestants are fond of observing).

Taking a Newman-like view of doctrinal development may be fruitful in this context. The true principles of the fallible-camp candidates should come to light over time, as their theorems are put to practice and bear (or fail to bear) fruit. This method of thinking speaks somewhat against the magisterial protestant, who holds a model of church in his head, but can point to its existence nowhere (and its failure everywhere). The Anglican too is plagued by failures from within his camp.

But I need to consider and pray more about this before ruling out the fallible camp. I still don’t understand how the magisterial protestant differs from the Biblicist in essence, and I have only recently come to think I should give the traditional Anglican claim to Apostolic Succession more consideration. Perhaps their take that there was real, but fallible authority makes more sense than I give it credit. They would say that the authorities are the only ones who should correct error, not the laity (although in the magisterial protestant view, if the authorities become entirely corrupt, the faithful laity are free to, indeed called to assume the reigns and Reform).

On the infallible side of the house, the analysis necessary to make a rational conclusion between the claims of the Orthodox and the Catholics is a real head-splitter. I see two main ways to resolve this quest.

First, one could accede to the hemisphere in which God has them. If you’re in the West, just stay with the Western Church. However, this makes relative the fundamental differences that exist between the candidates’ view of authority, and the doctrinal views that have flowed therefrom over the last millennium plus. In other words, you would be saying that it doesn’t really matter to God that the filioque was added; what matters is that we participate with the representation of the Church that is native to our own land. Further, the geographical East-West distinction may be more notional than real. The Papalist camp does have a real presence (pardon the pun) in the East, and the Orthodox churches in the states are working hard to move beyond being mere immigrant churches, such that their presence as Western churches is real too (see this excellent post discussing how Orthodoxy in America is becoming “native”). So, while I don’t find a homesteading view all that compelling, I respect it, and I hear its advocacy often. The six-of-one-half-dozen-of-the-other crowd can point to impressive similarities between Orthodoxy and Catholicism, but similarity is only plain when seen relative to the Protestantism.

Second, one can immerse one’s self in history. This effort overwhelms me. I have read and read and read the primary sources (the Eastern and Western Fathers) as well as secondary sources (books on church history, particularly describing both ‘halves’ of the Church). I feel like I only barely understand what happened after the early persecution ended, and what happened after the first millennia rolled into the second. I suppose that coupled with prayer and faith, applying reason to a deep study of history could give one the knowledge of which infallible-camp Church has the claim of Truth in its evangelization and articulation of the Logos. The temptation to resolve this difficult and time-consuming method of analysis by leaning on the homesteading view should be carefully avoided.

The fundamental dispute between Orthodoxy and Catholicism is about authority, so if I rule out fallible conciliar churches, I would be forced to decide between the infallilble conciliar model for church, and the infallibile papal model. The factual arguments in favor of each are too much for me to get into here, but I will note that arguments of Biblical and Patristic support for Papalism are persuasive, as are arguments about the meaning of the Council of Jerusalem recorded in Acts 15 and early church conciliar practice.

Finally, reason needs to turn its eyes to the doctrines of these churches. If Catholic or Orthodox Marian dogmas and doctrines, for example, conflict with one’s use of reason, informed by faith, it could provide an independent basis for looking elsewhere. This has been the premise behind my view that if all logic councils against a sola Scriptura view, but I believe that all alternative groups practice idolatry (let’s say), I must have been mistaken about sola Scriptura.

CONCLUSION:

While my attempt at objectively viewing the church has not yielded any clear winners (and if it did, I’d probably be further away from objectivity than I hope), it has taught me something. Those deeply entrenched and self-assured of the rightness of their own position ought to be well equipped to explain themselves. We should realize that each of our trench-warfare debate points (like whether we can call any man father, whether praying to saints is right or wrong, etc.) fits in a larger debate about what the Church is and is meant to be. For the sake of unity, we must try to see the forest through the trees.

[This is the best I can do with the time I have, and I realize that this is a paltry effort. I am going to keep this document at least for my own personal reference, and will update and correct my use of terms, analysis and conclusions as problems are pointed out to me. So I would appreciate constructive input if for no other reason than my own benefit.]

Mediatrix Of All Graces?

[Please continue to pray for Church Unity! This post is meant in sincerity, and I do not mean to go bashing or to get bashed. If you are able to clear up my misunderstandings in a spirit of grace, please do so! It is difficult differences like these that inhibit Unity. Therefore, I believe we are duty-bound to attempt to sort them out.]

I've just read Dave Armstrong's section on Mary, Mediatrix of All Graces, in his "A Biblical Defense of Catholicism." I was not sold on the idea, and am a little confused to boot. Is he defending defined Catholic dogma, or a mere (albeit popular) proposition that exists within Catholicism? It is not clear from the book.

Some Catholic writers claim it is already infallible teaching (e.g., Fr. Most's writing available on EWTN's website). This claim says that the battle is o'er, and those in opposition should just lay down their arms. But since a popular movement has been petitioning the Vatican to define the teaching as dogma, the claim that it is already infallible strikes me as a tad presumptuous.

St. Louis said, "Since all the grace which you receive comes from Our Lady, your salvation therefore ultimately depends on Her, and therefore you shall not enter Heaven without a devotion to Her, either developed in this life, or in the next life in Purgatory, when your dependence on her as mediatrix of all grace will have become absolutely clear." [HT: Laudem Gloriae]

However, Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange, OP, has this to say about mediation: "The office of mediator belongs fully only to Jesus, the Man - God, Who alone could reconcile us with God by offering Him, on behalf of men, the infinite sacrifice of the Cross, which is perpetuated in Holy Mass. He alone, as Head of mankind, could merit for us in justice the grace of salvation and apply it to those who do not reject His saving action. It is as man that He is mediator, but as a Man in Whom humanity is united hypostatically to the Word and endowed with the fullness of grace, the grace of Headship, which overflows on men. As St. Paul puts it: 'For there is one God, and one mediator of God and men, the man Christ Jesus: Who gave Himself for a redemption for all, a testimony in due times" (I Tim. 2:5-6). [Hat Tip: PowerBlog!]. [Aside: I recently learned that Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange taught Pope JPII when he was still just a lowly seminarian.]

So I wonder, is the battle o'er? Speaking individualistically, this teaching seems to come up short in two prominent ways. 1) The rational theological basis for this would-be dogma seems nearly absent; support for this teaching seems to flow from Marian apparitions and Mystic teachers of the Catholic Church who prophesied that this teaching would become dogma. As the Catholic Church teaches that public revelation ceased long ago, and the evidence of Mary's role as Mediatrix of All Graces does not appear in the early deposit of faith, I would expect to see a strong rationale for its formulation (as, e.g., is given with the teaching of the Immaculate Conception, which in addition enjoys early Patristic support). Some defenses I've read stress that God could see fit to have His graces mediated in this way. Granted. But what tells us that He does (for surely, Reason or Revelation would need to tell us that He does this before it could be an infallible dogma)? 2) The claim that Mary's role is not only to pray for us, but to be a channel of all graces (Fr. Most calls her the "neck" through which all power of the "head" must pass) makes false the primary Catholic defense of Marian (and all Saintly) intercession -- that is, that they merely pray for us as those who are already righteous and before God. Which is it, that the saints pray for us, or that they (also) go about actively dolling out grace? The latter would be different from how Catholics have defended Prayers to the Saints to me.

I am inclined to add as a third reason, that this teaching places at least great strain on the language of 1 Tim 2:5-6, quoted by Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange above.

Could it be that the authority supporting this teaching, if it is not yet infallible, is similar to the Predestination teachings within Roman Catholicism? There, while permissible boundaries are defined, there is open debate between a strong Free Will camp (the majority view) and a strong Predestination camp (the minority view). Is there a minority camp that does not see evidence of a "Mediatrix of All Graces" teaching in either Revelation or Reason?