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.

Ecumenical Rules of Engagement

Peter H. Burnett, 1st Governor of California, Lawyer and Catholic Convert

The introduction to the late Peter H. Burnett's The Path which Led a Protestant Lawyer to the Catholic Church contains something that resonates with me, regarding the discernment of the proper constitution of Christ's Church:

To form a clear, accurate, and just conception of a subject is the legitimate end of all fair and honest investigation. And no end can be attained, without the use of proper means, and no correct solution of any question arrived at, but by adopting the proper method. "The human mind is so limited," says Dr. Johnson, " that it cannot take in all the parts of a subject ; so that there may be objections raised against any thing." This being true of our limited capacity, it is only by confining our attention to one particular at a time, and carefully estimating its force, and then passing to others in succession, that we can arrive at any clear conception of a subject. The mechanic who constructs a chain, makes each link separately.

But it is not only absolutely necessary to use the proper means, and pursue the proper method, but we should carefully remove all obstacles that may weaken the legitimate force of any argument that may be presented to the mind. And nothing is more important for this purpose than calm impartiality. All prejudices should be manfully cast aside, and no one should enter upon the investigation of any subject with any preconceived antipathies against it. He had better not investigate at all, for then he will at least save his labor. (emphases added)

I recently said in a discussion at De Regnis Duobus that "I believe that it takes a lot of hard work from all parties to a discussion to agree on even a narrow proposition -- much of that work being dedicated to coming to agreement on language and meaning behind language. This makes ecumenical discussions either a labor of love, or a waste of time." I believe this sentiment is similar to what Mr. Burnett was expressing.

Too often in online ecumenical discussions, I see people respond to a challenging narrow proposition (i.e., a matter at issue) with a broad "shotgun" critique of their interlocutor's overall position. This dodging of a narrow issue with a 'litany of doubt' does not help anyone in the truth-seeking function. Instead, explicitly or implicitly, it "seeks to pick off the intellectually lethargic, before they get sucked in by what the litanizer perceives to be error" (as I said here).

Could you imagine if our courts allowed such tactics? It might look like this: suppose a defendant attempts to vindicate himself by demonstrating that the bloody glove from the crime scene does not fit him very well. Then suppose that the prosecutor replies that the defendant had stolen gloves and socks in his house, that the defendant has poor tastes in clothing, and that his hands are really quite soft, like he hasn't worked much manual labor in life. This reply does not address the matter at issue, but to a lazy, inattentive, or incompetent jury, a valid defense could be lost because of it. Such prejudice to the court's essential truth-finding function would not be permitted.

Because our ecumenical truth-seeking efforts should similarly demand a rigorous process of discussion, I encourage my brothers and sisters to respond only in kind, concluding each narrow issue raised in turn. Also, if you take someone up on one point, have the moral commitment to stay with them on that point until you both are in agreement, or can agree on what it is that causes your disagreement. I intend to hold myself to this standard, and hope that other Christians would also, both on this blog and 'abroad'.

If I Were a 2nd Century Christian

Issue. I think this might be a helpful intellectual exercise: where would I have looked to know what to believe about the faith and the Gospel if I were alive as a Christian in the 2nd century of the Church? [My comments are a rephrasing of those I made recently here.]

Rule. The properly ordained bishops taught the true faith and the Gospel in the 2nd century. Irenaeus tells us, "It is possible, then, for everyone in every church, who may wish to know the truth, to contemplate the tradition of the apostles which has been made known to us throughout the whole world. And we are in a position to enumerate those who were instituted bishops by the apostles and their successors down to our own times, men who neither knew nor taught anything like what these heretics [the Gnostics] rave about" (Against Heresies, 3:3:1 [A.D. 189]).

Analysis. Since properly ordained bishops held the truth, I would have believed about the faith and the Gospel what my local bishop taught me.

While the successor-bishops taught the true Christian faith, they did not do so infallibly (indeed, even the Apostle Peter could err, as Paul made plain in Galatians 2:11 ff. ("When Peter came to Antioch, I opposed him to his face, because he was clearly in the wrong.")). If I had doubts about my bishop's teachings, I would assure myself that all proper authorities are given by God (cf. Matt. 10:1, 2 Cor. 10:8, 13:10, 1 Thes. 4:2, Titus 2:15), and that we are to submit to our proper spiritual authorities (as Paul tells us in Heb. 13:17 "Obey your leaders and submit to their authority. They keep watch over you as men who must give an account. Obey them so that their work will be a joy, not a burden, for that would be of no advantage to you."). Therefore, if in fact my bishop were in doctrinal or practical error, I would have remained submitted to him as my proper authority (trusting that any culpability for such error would rest with him and not me). I would trust that his fellow bishops, speaking for the Church, would eventually call him to correction.

What would my alternate be?
- Declare myself a bishop? I would lack the authority to do that, if the proper authority is one ordained by a successor-bishop of the Apostles.
- Declare myself without a bishop, until my bishop came around to what I understood to be the truth? First, this would not be true submission, but conditional submission ('I submit under my terms'). Second, by what standard would I determine that I would again 'submit' to him? Scripture (as it existed at that point)? Even the heretics argued from Scripture (Irenaeus, Against Heresies, 1:3:6, "And it is not only from the writings of the evangelists and the apostles that they endeavour to derive proofs for their opinions by means of perverse interpretations and deceitful expositions: they deal in the same way with the law and the prophets, which contain many parables and allegories that can frequently be drawn into various senses, according to the kind of exegesis to which they are subjected.").

Conclusion. In the 2nd century, I would have believed that our God loves us enough to give us shepherds on earth, easily identifiable, that we can follow with trust and confidence. I would have followed the local bishop's explication of the Gospel, and submitted myself to his God-given authority.

Eucharist, Episcopal Authority, Relics

I have encountered many a quote from a Church Father on the internet. I recently purchased William A. Jurgens' Faith of the Early Fathers, in the hopes that reading the Fathers in actual print would be more informative; reading ancient texts on an LCD screen somehow provides a disruptive contrast. I have not been disappointed.

I will share an especially meaningful quote here, but primarily want to note that if you've only ever read it on a computer screen, you may be missing something. Buy the Fathers in print!

St. Ignatius of Antioch wrote to the Smyrnaean Church c. 110 A.D. In this letter, he says:

"Pay close attention to those who have wrong notions about the grace of Jesus Christ, which has come to us, and note how at variance they are with God's mind. They care nothing about love: they have no concern for widows or orphans, for the oppressed, for those in prison or released, for the hungry or the thirsty. They hold aloof from the Eucharist and from services of prayer, because they refuse to admit that the Eucharist is the flesh of our Saviour Jesus Christ, which suffered for our sins and which, in his goodness, the Father raised. Consequently those who wrangle and dispute God's gift face death. They would have done better to love and so share in the resurrection. The right thing to do, then, is to avoid such people and to talk about them neither in private nor in public. Rather pay attention to the prophets and above all to the gospel. There we get a clear picture of the Passion and see that the resurrection has really happened."

I simply note that, if I am permitted to take this text at face value, it seems little concerned with a common critique of Catholic Eucharistic practice. I have read and heard Protestants explain that the sacrifice of the Mass is false because Christ can't be both on the altar and risen in heaven. Ignatius says that the Eucharist is the flesh, and the same flesh which was crucified and was raised. If the Protestant critique is valid, it seems unlikely that St. Ignatius of Antioch would not have thought of it within a century of Christ's resurrection.

He continues:

"Flee from schism as the source of mischief. You should all follow the bishop as Jesus Christ did the Father. Follow, too, the presbytery as you would the apostles; and respect the deacons as you would God's law. Nobody must do anything that has to do with the Church without the bishop's approval. You should regard that Eucharist as valid which is celebrated either by the bishop or by someone he authorizes. Where the bishop is present, there let the congregation gather, just as where Jesus Christ is, there is the Catholic Church. Without the bishop's supervision, no baptisms or love feasts are permitted. On the other hand, whatever he approves pleases God as well. In that way everything you do will be on the safe side and valid. It is well for us to come to our senses at last, while we still have a chance to repent and turn to God. It is a fine thing to acknowledge God and the bishop. He who pays the bishop honor has been honored by God. But he who acts without the bishop's knowledge is in the devil's service."

Contrary to the common Protestant characterization of Church under the verse "For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them. (Matthew 18:20)", Ignatius characterizes Church and the validity of its practices by submission to a ruling Bishop (overseer).

Jurgens' compilation then goes to a later writing (The Colbertine Martyrdom of Saint Ignatius, see page 27), likely from the 4th or 5th centuries, which discusses Ignatius' death. Jurgens had already told us that Ignatius died during the reign of Emperor Trajan (likely 110 A.D. also), having been sentenced to the beasts in the arena in Rome, as a martyr. I did not realize the principle of Holy Relics went back so far:

"Only the harder parts of his holy relics were left, and these were conveyed to Antioch and wrapped in linen, as an inestimable treasure left to the holy Church, on account of the grace that was in the holy martyr."

Considering this quote, it has an odd (i.e., foreign to me) sensibility. Grace stays with the body of a holy Christian at their death. If we are both a body and a soul, and if God's grace is with us in life, then why would it evaporate from the body at death? Or, why do we believe that the grace of God that is with us, with what we are, is only with our soul? We do, after all believe that our very-same body will be reunited with our soul. We should expect positive authority before asserting that the grace of God does not inhere in physical matter.

These are my thoughts on Eucharist, Episcopal Authority and Relics, gleaned from an in-print reading of the Fathers.

"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.

Why I Am Protestant

Why am I still a Protestant?, a recent commenter implicitly asked.

I imagine that when a man is in the process of deep conversion, he is unable to grasp exactly what is happening, or where he is along the way (until it is over). Therefore, I can only speculate about what has been happening to your faithful Thos.

I risk being boring if I give too extensive a recap of my own exposure to Catholic doctrines, so to be as brief as possible, I diagram (and necessarily exclude my efforts spent looking for a third way):

Proudly Reformed → puzzled at my inability to defend sola Scriptura against a Catholic critique → puzzled that Reformed writings don’t refute the critique → puzzled that my Reformed pastors can’t refute the critique → becoming increasingly skeptical of the Protestant authority scheme → my present state. (I discussed my thoughts through this process in more detail in a series of posts ending with this one.)

The days of being proudly Reformed, and confident that its teachers could address any supposed deficiencies, are about four years behind me. But it has been some time indeed since I’ve felt that I’ve been able to progress one way or another (back to my roots, or further from them).

So why have I stalled in this “no-man’s-land”? Why am I still Protestant?

I don’t know. I told Kim recently while discussing the idea of being reasoned into Catholicism (or any other conversion, I suppose), “I'm not sure you can be *purely* reasoned into [conversion]. I mean, reason may be persuaded, and one still can't get over some anxieties." Let me try to clarify.

The best I can figure at this point is that conversion, as a process, involves at least two major changes. My working theory holds that it involves both intellectual conversion and emotional (i.e., sentimental) conversion. Further, I believe the intellect and emotions need to be persuaded much further beyond 50% of certainty before they are actually converted (a sort of 'principle of inertia'). My intellect was persuaded beyond 50% that the authority claims of Catholicism are stronger than those of Protestantism relatively long ago. And I think that within the last six months I approximately reached my inertial tipping point. When I perceived that this was happening, I got excited that I might have enough conviction to end this long and tiring journey…

But then the neon lights just weren’t flashing quite like I had hoped. I have continued to harbor a kind of skepticism that is particularly provoked by certain Catholic images, prayers and practices. My present theory is that while my intellect has converted, my emotions (or Protestant sentiments) have not. If this is true, it’s an unpleasant spot to be in. When I read, write, discuss, or debate, I hold a higher respect for Catholic theology. When I pray, meditate, and talk to myself in the quiet of the night, I remain a skeptic, deeply worried that I could be standing in the path of making a fatal error. Lead me not into temptation, but deliver me from evil.

In sum, I am still a Protestant because I would not like to be a skeptical Catholic, and I would not like to convert only to re-convert later in life (I was quite fickle as a younger man, and do not wish to return to that reputation). I am still a Protestant because, at present, I would not be able to take the Eucharist into my mouth without a small voice in my head whispering “heresy!” That voice has to expend so little energy to counter a loud voice of reason and intellect.

Quiet Lately.

It's been a long time since I've done any real writing for this blog, and a long time since I've shared with others my thoughts as I try to discern whether to convert to the Catholic Church. If any of my old contributors are still around, please know that this sabbatical was at first unintentional, and that I would like to soon return to regularly sharing my thoughts for discussion.

My absence was instigated primarily by one particularly tiring debate that followed a substantive post. More generally though, it was instigated by a growing sense that coming to agreement on terms of the Christian faith for any two people is a seemingly uphill battle. I was tired.

I drank in deeply an accusation that I didn't know what a particular ecclesial body 'really' taught in its true or pure form. Having been raised in that tradition by a man ordained to its ministry, and having studied it intently to find its refutations of certain Catholic and Orthodox critiques, I was deeply offended at the suggestion of my own ignorance. But I knew that if I replied with my own religious qualifications to speak, I would not be speaking in charity.

So it was easier to walk away from the whole frustrating debacle. Where this was weak of me, I apologize to my interlocutor and anyone benefiting from the discussion. Where it was my effort at a restrained, temperate reaction (which is contrary to my nature), I have no regrets.

I hope in future discussions to be more bold, and yet more gentle. If a fellow Christian tells me I don't understand "Reformed teaching", "Lutheran teaching" or the like, I will invite them to explain the correct position. Where one's explanation seems to inconsistent with a mainstream source describing that tradition, or seems to state as settled something that mainstream sources continue to debate, I will merely point out what I see to be an inconsistency, and then discuss the view as my fellow Christian presents it. I will not, however, accept that any one individual view is a qualified characterization of an entire ecclesial body, unless it appears to present a consensus view.

I think for the sake of Truth, we must be cognizant that no two views are truly alike. When I characterize Reformed theology, it is really "Reformed theology as Thos. understands it" that I present. Peace in Christ.

"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."

Spritual Aloneness

Here's an honest and personally moving post on spiritual aloneness (or loneliness) with which I can sympathize.

I wonder how many pew-sitters feel that they have deep union with the people with whom they are in communion? Why do I get funny looks when my "prayer request" at church is to give thanks for the large turn-out at the March for Life? I've opened myself to my pastor about my spiritual struggles. Once. We don't talk about it anymore. Is this a common feeling, or is it peculiar to people who think too much about "non-fundamentals"?

It's been hard enough to even have spiritual unity with my wife, so perhaps it's an irrationally high aspiration to share spiritual unity of thought with more than one or two other folks at church.

Palmetto Stater

To read about a South Carolina main-stream Protestant lawyer pondering the claims of Catholicism, who happens to identify himself as a liberal (and who loves hiking!), see here. His blog makes for an excellent read so far - I went cover to cover.

Seekers Abound

It seems I am not the only person infected with curiosity, and having a difficult time accounting for the challenges that the Ancient Apostolic Churches have posed to Protestantism.

Do visit The Lutheran Seeker.

Sophistry Sinks (genuine) Ecumenism

Please see the excellent discussion of a precondition to genuine ecumenical dialogue at PrincipiumUnitatis.

The thesis is:

"One precondition for genuine and fruitful ecumenical dialogue is understanding the difference between sophistry and rational dialogue, and being sufficiently self-disciplined to engage only in rational dialogue and avoid all sophistry."

I'm persuaded! May we avoid sophisms and seek the Truth.

Ware and "The Orthodox Church"

(WARNING: Another prefatory piece!)

If the feud between Western Catholicism and Western Protestantism is a complex picture, adding the Orthodox Church to the discussion gives that complexity a third dimension. For me, it CUBES the confusion in the image I am trying to discern. Where there were 9 difficult facets with which to wrestle, there now seem to be 27.

With such pessimism in mind, I picked up the oft-recommended Penguin soon-to-be-Classic "The Orthodox Church", by Timothy Ware, aka Bishop Kallistos of Diokleia (for major excerpts, see here).

For the very well read, the book is likely too brief, and not heavily enough footnoted. But I, for one, feel foolish for not having read it sooner. Unless you are already quite familiar with Orthodoxy, it is a must-read.

Lord willing, I would like to do a few posts on Ware's work, as Orthodox v. Catholic seems to invoke spirited discourse. For example, I've learned that certain critiques of Catholicism, such as its propensity to have the state torture or kill non-believers, can be made with equal vigor against Orthodoxy. I've learned that the unity claimed under Orthodoxy's title is a markedly different unity than that which the Roman Catholic Church claims to defend. I've learned that the Orthodox teaching on Trinity is shockingly foreign to me as a Protestant.

In trying to discern the proper constitution of Christ's Church, the chore of addressing the Great Schism seems much larger than pondering our Western Reformation.

Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola

A reliable source tells me that the Catholic Institute of the Incarnate Word (IVE, for their Spanish acronym), located just to the Northeast of Washington, D.C., is going to have a retreat next weekend preaching the spiritual exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola. It will begin on the evening of Friday, Sep 14 and finish on Sunday, Sep 16 in the evening. If you are interested in attending, you can contact Fr. Mariano Vicchi at marianovicchi@ive.org.

The Spirital Exercises are said to be a powerful tool for discernment of all types. To give you a taste of the good saint's writing on this topic, this is his "Principle and Foundation" for the first week of the exercises:

"Man is created to praise, reverence, and serve God our Lord, and by this means to save his soul.

"And the other things on the face of the earth are created for man and that they may help him in prosecuting the end for which he is created.

"From this it follows that man is to use them as much as they help him on to his end, and ought to rid himself of them so far as they hinder him as to it.

"For this it is necessary to make ourselves indifferent to all created things in all that is allowed to the choice of our free will and is not prohibited to it; so that, on our part, we want not health rather than sickness, riches rather than poverty, honor rather than dishonor, long rather than short life, and so in all the rest; desiring and choosing only what is most conducive for us to the end for which we are created."

Neuhaus on Discernment

I'm an unabashed fan of the ecumenical magazine First Things. Do check out this comment on discernment by Fr. John Richard Neuhaus, posted on the "On the Square" portion of their website (on August 31st). I just came across it today during a dry Evidence class.

"We are all uncertain about what God wants us to do. That is to say, we do not know for sure. Of course it seems silly, when you’re well past middle age and have spent your life doing what you believe you’ve been given to do, to get up in the morning or suddenly stop in the middle of the day’s work and ask, “Is this what I’m supposed to be doing?”

"I mentioned this to a young man who is discerning whether he has a call to the priesthood, and he was shocked, perhaps scandalized. He said, in effect: “You mean after all these years of being a priest, of writing books, of editing and lecturing, of organizing so many projects, you still aren’t sure you’re doing what God called you to do? How am I ever to know that God is calling me to the priesthood?”

"The answer is that we act in the courage of our uncertainties. I am fond of pointing out that the word decide comes from the Latin decidere, to cut off. You face choices—whether to be a priest, whether to go to this school or that, whether to marry a certain person, whether to pursue this line of work or another—and then you decide. And, in deciding, you have cut off the alternatives and pray you have decided rightly. But you do not know for sure. Alternatively, you are trapped in the tangled web of indecision."

His comments seem related to what I was trying to express in my post about Burdens of Proof. If you refuse to budge from whatever doctrinal/ecclesial position in which you've landed, unless persuaded beyond any reasonable doubt, then ecumenical dialogue is without meaning. Imagine if we refuse to ever leave an unhappy job or seek further eduction unless we are convinced beyond any reasonable doubt that the alternative we are considering will in fact work out, be better, be worth it (etc.)! We would forever hunker down in our trench, forsaking the possibility that we may be called to higher or more challenging things. We always have doubts; it's human.

Post Script. While on the topic of discernment, I recommend this post on a friend's blog (now an inactive blog).