How Does Good Friday *Work*, Exactly?

Today, Christians celebrate Good Friday, recalling the Death of Christ on the Cross for our sins. Virtually all Christians agree that Christ’s Death is an atoning Sacrifice for our sins. But Catholics and Reformed Protestants understand the nature of that Sacrifice very differently.  Is Christ’s Sacrifice on the Cross the outpouring of the Father’s wrath upon His innocent Son? Or is it the Son offering up the perfect Sacrifice of Charity? Why do we think that Christ’s Death is capable of atoning for our sins, anyway?

I. Penal Substitution, and Why It Doesn’t Work

The penal substitution view taken by many Protestants (primarily Calvinists) is that on the Cross, God the
Father pours out His hatred and wrath upon Jesus. Here’s how Mars Hill pastor Mark Driscoll explains (and defends) this view of the Atonement:

God’s wrath begins in this life as He simply allows us to live out of our sin nature without stopping us (Rom. 1:18, 24, 26). God’s wrath continues to burn against us, forever (Deut. 32:21-22; John 3:36; Eph. 5:6; Rev. 14:9-11). The place of God’s unending active wrath is hell, which Jesus spoke of more than anyone in the Bible as an eternal place (Matt. 25:46) of painful torment (Matt. 8:11-12), like taking a beating (Luke 12:46-48), getting butchered (Matt. 24:50-51), and burned (Matt. 8:29; 13:49-50; 18:8-9; 25:41; Mark 9:43-48; Luke 16:19-31) by Jesus (Matt. 8:29; Mark 1:24; 5:7; Rev. 14:10). Because God’s angry wrath is just, God is not obligated to lovingly forgive anyone, as is the case with fallen angels who have no possibility of salvation (2 Peter 2:4).

But, because God is loving, merciful, and kind, He has chosen to save some people. Furthermore, salvation is defined as deliverance by God from God and His wrath (Rom. 5:9-10). To both demonstrate His hatred of sin and love for sinners, Jesus averted the wrath of God by dying on the cross as a substitute for sinners.

So sin arouses the Father’s wrath, and He can either justly pour it out on the sinners who deserve it, or “mercifully” pour it out upon Jesus, who is innocent. Let’s consider some of the problems with this view:

Simon Vouet, The Crucifixion (1622)

1. It means that God isn’t just. Wrath for the wicked is just, but wrath for the innocent is unjust. If a
   judge imposed the death penalty on the defendant’s brother, we wouldn’t herald him for his mercy to the defendant. We’d recognize that he was acting unjustly. God’s Mercy cannot act contrary to His Justice, so this view can’t be right.

2. It means that God isn’t all-good. Imagine an enraged man so furious over some offense that he’s swinging wildly: he doesn’t care who he hits, he just wants to hit somebody. Penal substitution risks reducing God to that sort of madman. Don’t get me wrong: there’s no merit to that “A loving God would never punish the wicked” line. But it’s certainly true that “A loving God would never pour out His wrath upon an innocent victim.”  As Bryan Cross put it, “One problem with the Reformed conception is that it would either make the Father guilty of the greatest evil of all time (pouring out the punishment for all sin on an innocent man, knowing that he is innocent), or if Christ were truly guilty and deserved all that punishment, then His suffering would be of no benefit to us.”

3. It would seem to require Christ to be damned.  If the Atonement is about the outpouring out of God’s “unending active wrath” upon His Son, this would seem to require the damnation of Christ. Certainly, that was John Calvin's view:“Nothing had been done if Christ had only endured corporeal death. In order to interpose between us and God’s anger, and satisfy his righteous judgment, it was necessary that he should feel the weight of divine vengeance. […] Hence there is nothing strange in its being said that he descended to hell, seeing he endured the death which is inflicted on the wicked by an angry God.” But the notion that God can go to Hell is incompatible with everything we believe about Hell; the notion that God can damn God is incompatible with the Trinity and the innocence of Christ.

4. It makes no sense of the Trinity. God’s Triune nature works something like this: the Father gives everything (but His Fatherhood) to the Son, as Lover and Beloved, Begetter and Begotten. This communication of Persons is the Third Person of the Trinity, the Holy Spirit. Penal substitution introduces a rupture into the Trinity, in which there’s a divorce between the Father and the Son. That sort of rupture isn’t possible, if we properly understand the Trinity as eternal, simple, and unchanging.  Cross again: “If God the Father was pouring out His wrath on the Second Person of the Trinity, then God was divided against Himself, God the Father hating His own Word. God could hate the Son only if the Son were another being, that is, if polytheism or Arianism were true. But if God loved the Son, then it must be another person (besides the Son) whom God was hating during Christ’s Passion.” And since the Persons of the Trinity are in complete union, “if the Father has wrath for the Son, then the Son must have no less wrath for Himself.”

5. It reduces Christianity to human sacrifice. The Aztecs offered up human victims to appease the gods. Abraham was willing to do the same with Isaac, but was stopped by God. Jews and Christians rightly reject this sort of human sacrifice as barbaric, and contrary to the will of the God of Abraham. Penal substitution ultimately reduces Christianity to something akin to human sacrifice: we kill Jesus to appease the Father.

6. It doesn’t require repentance. A former professor used to say, “You can speed all you want. You just have to be willing to pay the penalty when you get ticketed.” Likewise, in this penal substitution view, we can do whatever we want, knowing that Christ will pay the penalty.
   
   The penal substitution view is all about paying the Father with blood: the emphasis is on the offering of a sacrifice, rather than the turning of hearts. That’s exactly the wrong view, according to several parts of Scripture. For example, Hosea 6:6 says, “I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God, rather than burnt offerings.” And Hebrews 5:5-7 applies this passage to Christ’s relationship to the Father: “Sacrifices and offerings thou hast not desired, but a body hast thou prepared for me; in burnt offerings and sin offerings thou hast taken no pleasure. Then I said, ‘Lo, I have come to do thy will, O God,’ as it is written of me in the roll of the book.” And Christ twice sends His hears to go learn the meaning of “I desire mercy, and not sacrifice” (Matt. 9:13; Matt. 12:17).

Fortunately, there’s another, older view of the Atonement: the Satisfaction theory. This view of the Atonement accounts for all of the Scriptural evidence and the demands of God’s Justice, without falling into of the traps described above.

II. A Better View of the Atonement: Satisfaction

Catholics more or less agree with the Reformed on the first half of the equation. By willingly sinning against God, we merit the “wages of sin,” death (Romans 6:23). We fall short of the glory of God, and God could justly condemn us for our rebellion.

But we disagree with how Christ solves this problem. We view the Incarnation and Passion of Christ as a manifestation of the Father’s love rather than His wrath, as John 3:16 says: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.”  This view of the Atonement better accounts for the Justice of God, the Goodness of God, and the relationship between Persons of the Trinity. Bryan Cross provides this helpful chart:

How does this work, exactly?

Imagine that your neighbor reckless crashes into your car, damaging or destroying it. In justice, you can demand that your neighbor compensate you, and repair the damage. But perhaps your neighbor can’t do that: he can’t afford to repair the damage that he’s done (just as we can never merit to repair the damage done by sin).

Michaelangelo, Crucifixion (1540)

This creates quite a conundrum. In justice, you can hold this debt against your neighbor forever, but it’ll never get paid. But imagine that a mutual friend comes along on behalf of your neighbor and gives you a newer, nicer car. This satisfies the debt: you don’t need to hold out for your neighbor to pay. And your friend isn’t being punished. You’re not pouring out your wrath on your friend. You’re not furious with him for crashing into your car (which he didn’t do). Instead, he voluntarily offers a gift to you on behalf of your neighbor, reconciling the situation. If anything, such a selfless gesture should draw you closer to your friend: and it should certainly draw your neighbor closer to this selfless friend.

So it is with Christ, the Friend who reconciles us to the Father. As St. Thomas Aquinas explains:

A sacrifice properly so called is something done for that honor which is properly due to God, in order to appease Him: and hence it is that Augustine says (De Civ. Dei x): "A true sacrifice is every good work done in order that we may cling to God in holy fellowship, yet referred to that consummation of happiness wherein we can be truly blessed." But, as is added in the same place, "Christ offered Himself up for us in the Passion": and this voluntary enduring of the Passion was most acceptable to God, as coming from charity. Therefore it is manifest that Christ's Passion was a true sacrifice. Moreover, as Augustine says farther on in the same book, "the primitive sacrifices of the holy Fathers were many and various signs of this true sacrifice, one being prefigured by many, in the same way as a single concept of thought is expressed in many words, in order to commend it without tediousness": and, as Augustine observe, (De Trin. iv), "since there are four things to be noted in every sacrifice--to wit, to whom it is offered, by whom it is offered, what is offered, and for whom it is offered--that the same one true Mediator reconciling us with God through the peace-sacrifice might continue to be one with Him to whom He offered it, might be one with them for whom He offered it, and might Himself be the offerer and what He offered."

Christ offers the perfect Sacrifice to the Father through His total self-sacrifice, and it is critical that it is done out of love. Using charity, rather than wrath, as the lens through which to understand sacrifice is crucial. It explains how we can “continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God” (Heb. 13:15; 1 Macc. 4:56), a concept that wouldn’t make sense if we understood a sacrifice as an object of God’s wrath.  This is also how David explains God's desire for sacrifice in Psalm 51:16-17:

For thou hast no delight in sacrifice; were I to give a burnt offering, thou wouldst not be pleased. The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.

So a penal sacrifice intended to satisfy some sort of imagined Divine bloodlust doesn’t please God. Charity and repentance does, and the epitome of charity is Good Friday.  In love, Christ reconciles us to the Father.  In love, the Father delights in His Son's selflessness on the Cross, and accepts it as a satisfaction of the debt incurred by  our sins.  This reconciliation is where the word “atonement” comes from.  Once we are reconciled, we are “at one” with each other. And that is why Good Friday is so Good.

This view also explains why salvation is offered to men, and not fallen angels, but that is a conversation for another time (in short, our intellects operate in time, theirs do not, and so their choice is permanent, as ours will be at death). 

Maundy, Maundy!

Happy Maundy Thursday, everyone!

For those of you who don’t know, Maundy Thursday is the day before Good Friday. The word “Maundy” comes from the word “command,” referring to Christ’s command for His disciples to serve. Because Good Friday is the anniversary of our Lord’s death on the Cross, Maundy Thursday is the anniversary of the Last Supper, and everything associated with it. You may be surprised that so much attention is given to the day before Christ died on the Cross, but I would note that John’s Gospel in particular shares this focus. He begins at Chapter 13, and it stretches onwards to the end of Chapter 17. He gives as much attention (4 chapters) to that one meal as he gives to the Agony in the Garden, Crucifixion, and Resurrection combined. Also, remember that for Jews, the day began at sundown, so the Last Supper was actually the kickoff to the Passion, if you will. So it’s a pretty big deal. For Catholics, today celebrates the introduction of a whole lot of things:

The Eucharist:

Catholics believe that Jesus literally meant what He said at the Last Supper (Matthew 26:26-28):

While they were eating, Jesus took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and giving it to his disciples said, "Take and eat; this is my body." Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, "Drink from it, all of you, for this is my blood of the covenant, which will be shed on behalf of many for the forgiveness of sins. 

St. Paul seems to have, too, because after recounting Jesus’ words, He says (1 Corinthians 11:26-28),

For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes. Therefore whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord unworthily will have to answer for the body and blood of the Lord. A person should examine himself, and so eat the bread and drink the cup. For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body, eats and drinks judgment on himself.

As an aside, this bit about self-examination, respecting Christ’s Body in the Eucharist, and eating and drinking judgment upon yourself is the source of the controversy over denial of Communion to pro-choice politicians. If St. Paul is right, it seems only charitable to refuse them the Eucharist, if it might lead to their condemnation.

Washing of the Feet: See John 13:3-17. Some churches celebrate this by having the priest wash certain congregants’ feet. If memory serves, our parish priest washed my dad’s feet one time, and my dad looked pretty awkward about having this done in front of the whole congregation. In a broader sense, this represents the need for all of us, but especially those in positions of authority, to care for each other, and to help each other out, even when it’s something we view as beneath us.

Baptism, Confession, the Priesthood (Holy Orders): In John 13:8-10, Jesus and Peter have a fascinating dialogue during the washing of the feet:

"No," said Peter, "you shall never wash my feet." Jesus answered, "Unless I wash you, you have no part with me." "Then, Lord," Simon Peter replied, "not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!" Jesus answered, "A person who has had a bath needs only to wash his feet; his whole body is clean. And you are clean, though not every one of you."

I love Peter’s response here, because I completely understand where he is coming from. What begins as a literal washing of the feet rises to something much more when Jesus begins to use the imagery of Baptism (Unless I wash you, you have no part with me). What He says in response to Peter must be read should be read in this context: “A person who has had a bath [Baptism] needs only to wash his feet; his whole body is clean.” Obviously, this isn’t true on the literal level: you can bathe pretty frequently, and still need another bath. In other words, once you are baptized, Original Sin is washed away forever. No matter how badly you sin, you can never undo your Baptism. But you can still sin. And so you still need to go to Jesus for forgiveness of those sins. So Jesus hints at a post-Baptism cleansing, but doesn’t lay it out very clearly there exactly what this looks like. After His Resurrection, He explains this in more detail, in what Catholics call Confession, Penance, or Reconciliation (John 20:21-23).

This washing of the feet is also strongly tied to the sacramental priesthood. In the Old Testament, we hear that (Exodus 30:19-21):

Aaron and his sons shall use it in washing their hands and feet. When they are about to enter the meeting tent, they must wash with water, lest they die. Likewise when they approach the altar in their ministry, to offer an oblation to the LORD, they must wash their hands and feet, lest they die. This shall be a perpetual ordinance for him and his descendants throughout their generations.

A few notes on this. First, it’s restricted to specific Levites, Aaron and his sons, not the whole “kingdom of priests” (Exodus 19:5-6) – in other words, just the ordained priests. Second, it’s tied to being in the presence of God, and offering sacrifice, with the penalty of death.

Now look to what Jesus says in this context. Regarding the Eucharistic sacrifice, He commands of His Disciples, “do this in memory of Me.” (Luke 22:19, 1 Corinthians 11:24). He’s instructing this select group to offer up His Body as a sacrifice to the Father. About the washing of the feet, He says, “I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.” (John 13:15). That’s the mandate (mandatum) where we get the maundy in Maundy Thursday from. In some manner, these instructions apply to all of us. We should all partake in the Eucharist in memory of Christ, and we should all serve one another. But in a particular way, this applies to His shepherds. After all, even in non-Catholic ecclesial communities, Communion (in whatever sense that term is understood) is almost exclusively administered by the priest or pastor. There’s a general recognition, even if unrecognized, that there’s a reason Jesus addresses this to His Twelve Disciples, rather than to the crowd generally.

For this reason, the custom is for the pope to write and release an encyclical on Maundy Thursday, directed just at the priests. It generally makes for a pretty good read, if you’re interested in how things work between individual priests and the pope.

The Start of Triduum: Triduum is the three-day period stretching from Thursday night to Easter Sunday. It’s considered the holiest part of the Catholic calendar. If you’re like me, your first thought is… that’s not three days. But it is if you use a Jewish calendar, which is how the New Testament measured the three days Jesus was in the grave. Day One is tonight through Friday night, and is the Last supper and the full Passion (from the Agony in the Garden to Jesus’ condemnation, to the carrying of the Cross, to the Crucifixion, to Jesus dying on the Cross). It’s a really intense 24-hours. Day two is Friday night through Saturday night. I like to use that time to reflect upon what the disciples must have felt: to really experience, for 24 hours out of the year, the mental anguish of a dead God. The sense of betrayal, hurt, and most of all, despair, must have been overwhelming. Day 3 begins, in Catholic tradition, with the Easter Vigil, a beautiful Mass that’s really long. If you’re patient, and want to see Catholicism at its very best, this is the Mass for you. It’s an amazing experience, there’s like eight readings when the full Vigil is said, and converted Catholics are brought into the Church. It’s a really joyful experience. To combine the joy of the Resurrection with the joy of entering into the Church was a really smart idea. Good thinking, early Church! After that, of course, comes Easter morning. You’re allowed to go to Mass both at the Vigil and on Easter morning, and receive Communion both times, but make sure you go when different priests are officiating, because sometimes they repeat their same sermon from the night before.

That’s what’s going on today, folks (as well as a preview of the upcoming few days). We celebrate the birthday of four of the Seven Sacraments (Baptism, Confession, Eucharist, and Holy Orders), as well as prepare for tomorrow’s Big Day.

You can find out more about the long history of Maundy Thursday here. It includes some interesting stuff about how the early Church celebrated it – I especially liked the bit about Augustine. Of course, this is an encyclopedia entry, so if you’re really interested, this may not fully satiate you.

Have a safe and blessed Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday!

This is a post that I originally wrote on Holy Thursday 2009.

The Supernatural Case for Catholicism

I think that one mistake that we Catholics fall into is attempting to prove the faith without referencing the supernatural. We’ll use Scripture and reason to show the truth of Catholicism (which is great, of course), but we tend to get awkward about using miracles, particularly to non-believers. We’re quick to talk about John 6 or the Five Ways. But many of us are slower to talk about, say, Lourdes, Padre Pio, or the Shroud of Turin.

I understand why we tend to hesitate here: especially, if we’re dealing with an atheist who rejects the possibility of miracles, or a Protestant who rejects the possibility of Marian apparitions, and thinks that miracles are just a thing in the Bible. But I want to suggest why we need miracles in apologetics, what sort of miracles we should point to, and how we should use them.

I. The Need for “Signs and Wonders”

Miracles were one of the ways that the Israelites could determine that a specific message was from God: they’re intended to be a confirmation of the message, and sometimes, confirmation of the messenger. So, for example, Deuteronomy 6:22 says that “the Lord showed signs and wonders, great and grievous, against Egypt and against Pharaoh and all his household, before our eyes,” and it was on the basis of these signs that Israel believed in God (Exodus 14:31).
this reason, miracles are often referred to as “signs” or “signs and wonders” in Scripture.  Miracles don’t exist for their own sake; rather, they exist for the sake of the Gospel.

Nor is this only in the Old Testament.  Jesus likewise confirmed His Gospel through a series of miracles.  This is the primary purpose of the miracles He performs during His public ministry. At one point, Jesus prays to the Father for a miraculous cure, “that they may believe that Thou didst send Me” (John 11:40-42).

In his Pentecost homily, St. Peter describes Jesus as “Jesus of Nazareth, a Man attested to you by God with mighty works and wonders and signs which God did through Him in your midst, as you yourselves know” (Acts 2:22).  And Hebrews 2:3-4 says that the Gospel “was declared at first by the Lord, and it was attested to us by those who heard him, while God also bore witness by signs and wonders and various miracles and by gifts of the Holy Spirit distributed according to his own will.”

Nor do these miracles stop with Jesus.  After His Resurrection, “many wonders and signs were done through the apostles” (Acts 2:43), as they “went forth and preached everywhere, while the Lord worked with them and confirmed the message by the signs that attended it” (Mark 16:20). St. Paul said that he would “not venture to speak of anything except what Christ has wrought through me to win obedience from the Gentiles, by word and deed, by the power of signs and wonders, by the power of the Holy Spirit” (Romans 15:18-19).

 For that reason, he and Barabas remained in Iconium “for a long time, speaking boldly for the Lord, Who bore witness to the word of His grace, granting signs and wonders to be done by their hands” (Acts 14:3). These signs and wonders were understood to be God’s confirmation of the message, which is why Paul and Barnabas later use these miracles as evidence that the Gospel is to be extended to the Gentiles (Acts 15:12).

II. What Sort of Miracles Are We Looking for?

A critical text in this discussion is John 14:10-12, in which Jesus says to the Apostle Philip,

Masaccio, St. Peter Healing the Sick
with his Shadow (15th c.)

“Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own authority; but the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father in me; or else believe me for the sake of the works themselves. Truly, truly, I say to you, he who believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I go to the Father. 

So Christ offers miracles that we might believe in Him, and promises that His followers will do even greater works. So what sort of works are we looking for?  Let me offer five major categories, although these are not exhaustive.

1) Baptism and the Eucharist: Perhaps the most frequently mentioned signs used in Scripture are the Exodus miracles.  The Israelites were repeatedly reminded that their deliverance was done in a miraculous way as a sign, that they might believe (Exodus 10:2, 12:13, 13:19, Numbers 14:22, Deuteronomy 4:34, 6:22, 7:19, 11:3, 26:8, 29:2-6, 34:11, Joshua 24:17, Psalm 78:43, 135:9, Jeremiah 32:20-21, etc.).   One of those deliverance signs was the blood of the Passover lamb, smeared on the doorpost (Exodus 12:13).  Another sign was the miraculous bread from Heaven, the Manna (Deut. 8:3, Duet. 29:6). St. Paul recalls these deliverance miracles in 1 Cor. 10:1-4,

I want you to know, brethren, that our fathers were all under the cloud, and all passed through the sea, and all were baptized into Moses in the cloud and in the sea, and all ate the same supernatural food and all drank the same supernatural drink. For they drank from the supernatural Rock which followed them, and the Rock was Christ.

These were signs, not in the sense of being mere symbols, but in the sense of pointing to God. And each of them is surpassed by something greater in the New Testament: the parting of the Red Sea foreshadows Christian Baptism.  This Baptism miraculously imparts the Holy Spirit, unlike prior, merely symbolic Baptisms (Acts 19:1-6).  And as Paul points out, the New Covenant has spiritual food and drink in the Eucharist (1 Cor. 10:16-17). There have been several Eucharistic miracles in which the Host has turned visibly into Flesh and Blood.  But whether it occurs visibly or invisibly, it remains miraculous.

2) The Forgiveness of Sins: Christ ties His ministry of miracles with the forgiveness of sins several times, most directly in Mark 2:1-12 and John 9:1-41.  In the case of the forgiveness of sins, as with Baptism and the Eucharist, the miracle occurs invisibly. But the fruits of it are visible.

3) Exorcisms: The first miracle Jesus performs in Mark’s Gospel is an exorcism (Mark 1:21-28), and in Mark 16:17, He explicitly cites exorcisms as one of the signs of His followers.  And He shows in Luke 11:14-23 that these exorcisms can only occur “by the finger of God.”  He rejects the idea that Satan can cast out demons, since every “kingdom divided against itself is laid waste,” and a house divided cannot stand.

So exorcisms are a critical sign in determining whether the Church is acting for or against Christ.  The true Church will do them, and they’re a uniquely helpful sign that someone is operating on behalf of God. So why not point to the fact that Catholic priests perform numerous exorcisms every year throughout the U.S., and around the world? This fact alone debunks the old Protestant theory that the Catholic Church is the Antichrist, since the devil cannot be the one driving out demons.

4) Miraculous Healings: Acts 19:11-12 says that “God did extraordinary miracles by the hands of Paul, so that handkerchiefs or aprons were carried away from his body to the sick, and diseases left them and the evil spirits came out of them.”  Those items that have touched a Saint are what we today call “relics,” and we continue to use them to perform miraculous healings.

Miraculous healings happen several other ways in the New Testament, and several other ways in the Catholic Church today.  For example, the waters of Lourdes have healed numerous people.  Or talk to any priest: they can likely recount several healings that they have personally witnessed after the anointing of the sick, following James 5:14-15.

5) The Church Herself: The biggest miracle is one that no one can deny. Under the Old Covenant, the Jews themselves were a miracle. God chose them because they were small and weak. Their continued existence over thousands of years is a demonstration of His Divine Power, and a confirmation that the God of the Jews is the true God.  We see this played out throughout Scripture.  For example, the Israelites who scouted out the Promised Land returned with accounts of its bounty, but also with a warning (Numbers 13:28-29):

Yet the people who dwell in the land are strong, and the cities are fortified and very large; and besides, we saw the descendants of Anak there. The Amal′ekites dwell in the land of the Negeb; the Hittites, the Jeb′usites, and the Amorites dwell in the hill country; and the Canaanites dwell by the sea, and along the Jordan.

Today, where do we see the descendants of Anak, or the Amal′ekites, the Hittites, the Jeb′usites, or the Amorites? They’ve all long since disappeared, yet the Jews remain.

In Matthew 13:31-32, Christ improves upon this miracle, in His promises to His Church, the Kingdom of God.  Like the Jewish people, the Church will never be destroyed.  But the Church will go from being “the smallest of all seeds” to becoming a great tree. She won't just survive: She'll thrive.  

Of course, the Catholic Church has born this out.  She has survived for two thousand years, and is the oldest government in the world.  Innumerable empires have attempted to suppress Her: they've faded away, while She's continued to grow. Throughout those two millennia, She’s kept an astonishingly consistent set of doctrinal beliefs. Who else can boast this track record?

III. The Use of Miracles

Some people are more disposed than others to the possibility of miracles. For those who are disposed, use them to show that God has confirmed the message of the Catholic Church.  For those who aren't, treat the topic the way you would to someone skeptical of the Empty Tomb. Leave it to the skeptic to explain how Lanciano, bilocation, Guadalupe, and the miracle of the sun are hoaxes or forgeries.  Personally, I am partial to Msgr. Knox's explanation in The Belief of Catholics:

It belongs to the courtesies of duelling that the challenger should offer his opponent a choice of weapons. In this debate, which here reaches its critical point, it is the Catholic Church which challenges the human intellect. In courtesy, therefore, the reader must be allowed his choice of weapons, if he is prepared to abide by it. 

If you are prepared to admit the possibility of miracle, then you will naturally expect that an event so full of importance for the human race as a personal revelation from Almighty God should be accompanied by evidences of his miraculous power. It will be my object in the later part of this chapter to show that the Christian revelation fulfils the conditions so laid down. But if you are determined, from some preconceived prejudice, some strange inhibition of thought, to rule out the possibility of miracle; if you are prepared to dismiss as a fiction any story which involves a miracle, for the reason that it involves a miracle and for no other--then I will do my best to give you satisfaction on your own terms; but you must abide by your own terms. You must consider, in all honesty, whether the life of our Lord does not give you every possible assurance of his Divinity, short of a miracle. I do not say that such assurance would ever satisfy me, but it must satisfy you. It must satisfy you, because it is precisely the kind of assurance you have demanded. You must not say that no revelation would satisfy you unless the guarantee of miracle accompanied it, and then say in the same breath that you will refuse to accept any story of miracle precisely on the ground that it is miraculous. That is as if you were to invite your opponent to stab you with a pistol. If you will not have miracles, then you must be prepared to be satisfied without them.

This puts the burden where it belongs: on the person who dogmatically rejects the possibility of miracles, while refusing to believe in Christianity (or in Catholicism) on anything less than miraculous evidence.  Of course, the role for the miraculous should be to supplement the Scriptural and reasonable case for Catholicism, but in the right context, it's got a very important role to play.

A Fascinating Concession By Albert Mohler

Albert Mohler, president of Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, is apparently startled by how much Evangelicals like Pope Francis, and is trying to scare them away from him by reminding them that we disagree whether justification is by faith, or by faith alone:

Mohler noted that Pope Benedict XVI famously affirmed the doctrine of justification by faith when writing about the apostle Paul, “but he would not add that crucial word ‘alone.’”

“Lacking the word ‘alone,’ that means justification by faith that works in synergistic mechanism with our own righteousness or attempts at righteousness and efforts to gain merit,” Mohler said.

I actually agree with Mohler here, but I think that this argument shows why Martin Luther was wrong on justification.  See, the one who added “that crucial word ‘alone’” was Martin Luther, not the Apostle Paul. And Luther even admitted as much.

Okay, let me step back to explain what we’re talking about here. The doctrine of justification by faith alone is the doctrine upon which, according to Luther, the Reformation rose or fell. And the theory was based in large part of his reading of Romans and Galatians, particularly Romans 3:28. In Luther’s German translation, it reads: “For we hold that a man is justified by faith alone apart from works of law.” But Luther added that word “alone,” and even conceded that the word for “alone” isn’t found in the original Greek, or in the Latin that he’s translating from. In his Open Letter on Translating, he wrote:

I know very well that in Romans 3 the word solum is not in the Greek or Latin text — the papists did not have to teach me that. It is fact that the letters s-o-l-a are not there. And these blockheads stare at them like cows at a new gate, while at the same time they do not recognize that it conveys the sense of the text -- if the translation is to be clear and vigorous [klar und gewaltiglich], it belongs there.

Given that “alone” isn’t found in the Greek or Latin version of Romans 3:28, how should Protestants defend Luther’s insertion of the word, particularly when it seems to change the meaning of the one of the most hotly-contested passages in Scripture? Here’s what Luther suggested would be good enough for a Catholic (or in his words, a papist donkey):

But I will return to the subject at hand. If your papist wishes to make a great fuss about the word sola (alone), say this to him: “Dr. Martin Luther will have it so, and he says that a papist and a donkey are the same thing.” Sic volo, sic iubeo, sit pro ratione voluntas [“I will it, I command it, my will is reason enough.”]. For we are not going to be students and disciples of the papists. Rather, we will become their teachers and judges. For once, we also are going to be proud and brag, with these blockheads; and just as Paul brags against his mad raving saints, I will brag against these donkeys of mine! Are they doctors? So am I. Are they scholars? So am I. Are they preachers? So am I. Are they theologians? So am I. Are they debaters? So am I. Are they philosophers? So am I. Are they logicians? So am I. Do they lecture? So do I. Do they write books? So do I. 

I will go even further with my boasting: I can expound the psalms and the prophets, and they cannot. I can translate, and they cannot. I can read the Holy Scriptures, and they cannot. I can pray, they cannot. Coming down to their level, I can use their rhetoric and philosophy better than all of them put together. Plus I know that not one of them understands his Aristotle. If any one of them can correctly understand one preface or chapter of Aristotle, I will eat my hat!

Ultimately, Luther’s position was that “justification by faith” implies “justification by faith alone.” But that’s what make Mohler’s argument fascinating, because he flatly denies this. Again, what he said was:

“Lacking the word ‘alone,’ that means justification by faith that works in synergistic mechanism with our own righteousness or attempts at righteousness and efforts to gain merit,” Mohler said.

If he is right, and I think he is, what he has (no doubt inadvertently) established is that St. Paul and Pope Benedict XVI are synergists, unlike Martin Luther.  How this helps the Protestant case on justification is beyond me.

Pope Francis, Foot-Washing, and the Cross

Meister des Hausbuches,
Christ Washing the Feet of the Apostles (1475)

The more I read about our new Holy Father, the happier I am.  He seems to combine outspoken orthodoxy with flagrant and outspoken love of the poor and downtrodden.  In short, there is plenty for Catholics (and non-Catholics) of all stripes to like.  One of the most heartening things that I have read in response to his election came from a reader of John Thavis' blog calling himself “Non-practicing Catholic”:

“This makes me want to go back to Mass ASAP. All I can say is WOW! This is simply stunning, and I think Pope Francis will be good for the Church.”

That reaction gives credence to something that Pope-emeritus Benedict XVI has said,

“Today, for faith to grow, we must lead ourselves and the persons we meet to encounter the saints and to enter into contact with the Beautiful.”

This world is full of people who will ignore rational arguments for the faith, but fall to their knees in the face of authentic sanctity the Beautiful.  Beauty and Goodness still seep through in a world that denies Truth.  And as Dostoyevsky said (and Solzhenitsyn explained), “Beauty will save the world.”  Pope Francis appears to have lived this out in a life of humility and simplicity.

A dispute also arose among them, which of them was to be regarded as the greatest. And he said to them, “The kings of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them; and those in authority over them are called benefactors. But not so with you; rather let the greatest among you become as the youngest, and the leader as one who serves. For which is the greater, one who sits at table, or one who serves? Is it not the one who sits at table? But I am among you as one who serves.

“You are those who have continued with me in my trials; as my Father appointed a kingdom for me, so do I appoint for you that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom, and sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel.

“Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have you [plural], that he might sift you [plural] like wheat, but I have prayed for you [singular] that your faith may not fail; and when you have turned again, strengthen your brethren.”

- Luke 22:24-32

Pope Francis (then-Cardinal Bergoglio) washing the feet of a young AIDS patient, Holy Thursday, 2001

Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, rose from supper, laid aside his garments, and girded himself with a towel. Then he poured water into a basin, and began to wash the disciples’ feet, and to wipe them with the towel with which he was girded. 

El Greco, Jesus Carrying the Cross (1580)

He came to Simon Peter; and Peter said to him, “Lord, do you wash my feet?” Jesus answered him, “What I am doing you do not know now, but afterward you will understand.” Peter said to him, “You shall never wash my feet.” Jesus answered him, “If I do not wash you, you have no part in me.” Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” Jesus said to him, “He who has bathed does not need to wash, except for his feet, but he is clean all over; and you are clean, but not all of you.” For he knew who was to betray him; that was why he said, “You are not all clean.”

When he had washed their feet, and taken his garments, and resumed his place, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you?  You call me Teacher and Lord; and you are right, for so I am.  If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.

- John 13:3-14

Nor does this charity and care for the downtrodden come at the expense of bold proclamation of the Gospel.  In his first homily as pope, Pope Francis called us all to the Cross, and to confession of Jesus Christ:

[W]e can walk as much we want, we can build many things, but if we do not confess Jesus Christ, nothing will avail. We will become a pitiful NGO, but not the Church, the Bride of Christ. [....] 

This Gospel continues with a special situation. The same Peter who confessed Jesus Christ, says, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God. I will follow you, but let us not speak of the Cross. This has nothing to do with it.” He says, “I’ll follow you on other ways, that do not include the Cross.” When we walk without the Cross, when we build without the Cross, and when we profess Christ without the Cross, we are not disciples of the Lord. We are worldly, we are bishops, priests, cardinals, Popes, but not disciples of the Lord. 

I would like that all of us, after these days of grace, might have the courage - the courage - to walk in the presence of the Lord, with the Cross of the Lord: to build the Church on the Blood of the Lord, which is shed on the Cross, and to profess the one glory, Christ Crucified. In this way, the Church will go forward. 

My hope for all of us is that the Holy Spirit, that the prayer of Our Lady, our Mother, might grant us this grace: to walk, to build, to profess Jesus Christ Crucified. So be it.

Viva il Papa!

Where is the Papacy in the Bible?

To celebrate the election of Jorge Mario Bergoglio as Pope Francis, here is a copy of a talk that I gave at lunch today on the Scriptural origins of the papacy:

““Where is THAT in the Bible: The Pope”

Sharing the Catholic faith with non-Catholics, even non-Catholic Christians, can seem overwhelming at times. There are just so many doctrines that non-Catholics want answers about: justification, the Eucharist, the Marian doctrines, intercession of the Saints, Purgatory, the priesthood, etc. It’s easy to get bogged down by a series of rapid-fire questions about a variety of unrelated topics. But fortunately, there’s an easy doctrinal debate to turn to that resolves the others, at least for non-Catholic Christians: the papacy.

Put simply, if the Catholic Church is right about the papacy, everyone should be Catholic. And if the Catholic Church is wrong about the papacy, no one should be Catholic.

So it’s vitally important that we Catholics are able to explain why we believe in the papacy. And if we’re ever going to be able to convince non-Catholic listeners on this topic, we should be able to make our case from Sacred Scripture. This is all the more important now: the abdication of Pope Benedict XVI, and the papal election, have made the papacy a topic of everyday conversation for non-Catholics in a way that rarely happens. Fortunately, as we shall see, the Scriptural case for the papacy is very strong.

Three Errors Obscuring the Question of the Papacy

If the Scriptural case for the papacy is so strong, how do other Christians miss it? I would suggest that there are three reasons.

First, they tend to misunderstand what Scripture means by “the Church.” Martin Luther described the Protestant view of the Church in this way: “Thank God, a seven-year-old child knows what the church is, namely, holy believers and sheep who hear the voice of their Shepherd.” John Calvin adopted a similar view, suggesting that while “the Church” sometimes refers to the visible body containing “a very large mixture of hypocrites, who have nothing of Christ but the name and outward appearance,” it other times refers to “the Church as it really is before God,” an Invisible Church “into which none are admitted but those who by the gift of adoption are sons of God, and by the sanctification of the Spirit true members of Christ.” The visible Church can drift nearer or further from the true, invisible Church, but the two are essentially distinct.

Second, they tend to misunderstand what Catholics believe about the papacy. More specifically, the view of the papacy is often one of an ecclesial dictator in Rome who calls every shot. This straw-man view of the papacy eliminates any roles for Church Councils, Patriarchs, the college of bishops, and essentially any ecclesial structure other than the Holy See. For example, Fr. Viktor Potapov, an Eastern Orthodox priest, has argued that “The history of the Apostolic Council (Acts, Chapter 15) speaks especially clearly against the supremacy of the Apostle Peter. The Antiochian Christians appeal not to the Apostle Peter for the resolution of their perplexity, as should have occurred if we are to believe the Catholic dogma, but to all the apostles and presbyters.” By this logic, the First Vatican Council “speaks especially clearly” against the papacy, because the question of papal infallibility is answered by a Council, rather than by Pope Pius IX.

Finally, most Christians (Protestants, Orthodox, and even Catholics) are simply unaware of the strongest evidence for papal primacy from Scripture. The silver lining here is that this creates a perfect opportunity for Catholic apologetics.

How should we respond to these three errors? To the extent we’re dealing with someone who misunderstands what the Church is, we need to lay out some basic ecclesiology. To the extent we’re dealing with someone who misunderstands what we mean by the papacy, we need to clarify, and not overstate the pope’s role in the life of the Church. There can be a tendency on the part of Catholics to speak as if no issue would ever be resolved without direct papal intervention, and that characterization only feeds a misunderstanding of the papacy. Finally, to the extent we’re dealing with someone who is ignorant of the Scriptural evidence, we should present “the truth in love” (Ephesians 4:15).

Catholic Ecclesiology

To understand the papacy, it is necessary to understand at least the basics about the Church. Here are some of the passages that you should familiarize yourself with:

1. Matthew 16:18. We can get so caught up in the debates about who the “Rock” of Matthew 16:18 is that we can overlook five critical words of Christ: “I will build My Church.”

2. Matthew 13. This whole chapter is dedicated to Christ’s explanation of the nature of the Church as Kingdom. For example, in Mt. 13:47-50, Christ describes the Kingdom of Heaven as a net containing both good and bad fish, representing “the righteous” and “the evil.” This shows that the Church isn’t simply an invisible collection of the saved.

3. The Judas passages. Each of the four Gospels points out that Christ’s betrayer was “one of the Twelve” (Matthew 26:14; Mark 14:10; Mark 14:43; Luke 22:3; Luke 22:47; John 6:71). Judas possessed a share of the Apostolic “ministry and apostleship” (Acts 1:25), and Matthew 10:1-4 describes how Christ gave “authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to heal every disease and every infirmity” to all of the Twelve, including Judas. As Jesus said, “Did I not choose you, the twelve, and one of you is a devil?” (John 6:70). This issue of Judas creates an insurmountable problem for Protestant ecclesiology, since the Apostles possessed the highest office possible within the Body of Christ (1 Corinthians 12:27-28).

4. Ephesians 5:25-32. St. Paul’s beautiful description of the Church as the Body of Christ and the Bride of Christ.

5. Acts 9:1-6 and Luke 10:16. Saul was “violently persecuting the church of God” (Galatians 1:13; cf. Acts 9:1) until he is stopped on the road to Damascus by Christ, who says, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” and reveals Himself by saying: “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.” This shows that to attack the Church is to attack Christ. Likewise, Jesus sends out the seventy, saying, “Whoever listens to you listens to me, and whoever rejects you rejects me, and whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me” (Luke 10:16). In this way, the Church is a continuation of the Incarnation of Christ.

6. John 17:20-23. In His Highly Priestly prayer, Jesus specifically prays for future Christians (to my knowledge, the only time that He does this), and His prayer is “that they may all be one; even as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that thou hast sent me” (Jn. 17:21).

These passages provide a foundation to discuss the papacy: they show that (1) Christ established a Church, (2-3) this Church is a visible institution comprising both the saved and some of the damned, (4) this Church is the Body and Bride of Christ, (5) this Church is a continuation of the Incarnation of Christ, and (6) this Church is called to be One, even in the post-Apostolic era.

Pope Peter, from Scripture

What is the role of St. Peter in the Church founded by Christ? I think that the answer to this can be seen through a series of Scriptural passages:

1. Luke 22:24-32. This is one of the strongest overlooked passages for Petrine primacy. The Apostles argue over who is greatest. Christ says that “the greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves” (v. 26). He then confers authority of the Church to the Twelve (v. 29-30), before saying to Peter specifically (v. 31-32): “Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift all of you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.”

2. The “Great Catches of Fish” passages. Remember that Christ compares the Church to a net filled with fish (Mt. 13:47-50). In the first great catch of fish (Luke 5:1-11), Jesus comes upon Peter, Andrew, James, and John. After the first miraculous catch, He singles Peter out of these four, and says to him, “Do not be afraid; henceforth you will be catching men” (Lk. 5:10). The second miraculous catch of fish is after the Resurrection (John 21:1-14). This time, the Apostles’ net is so full that “they were not able to haul it in, for the quantity of fish” (John 21:6). But at Jesus’ command, Peter is able to single-handedly haul the net in, without tearing it (Jn. 21:10-11). Immediately after this, Jesus commissions Peter as shepherd (John 21:15-19).

3. John 10:1-21 and John 21:15-19. In John 10, Jesus gives two different shepherding images to describe His relationship with the Church. The second of these (Jn. 10:11-21) is quite famous, in which Jesus calls Himself the Good Shepherd. But often overlooked is the description He gives in John 1:1-10, in which He describes Himself as the gate letting in His Shepherd. This gatekeeping function points to His Old Testament promise in Jeremiah 3:15, to give us shepherds after His own heart. And we see Him fulfill this in John 21:15-19, when He commissions Peter to be His shepherd.

4. Matthew 16:13-19. This is the most famous “papacy passage,” and one of the best. Be prepared to go through the passage slowly: show how Jesus contrasts the three styles of governance (democratic, aristocratic, monarchical) in v. 13-16. Go through the blessing of v. 17-19 slowly, and compare it to the Old Testament: specifically, Genesis 17:3-8 and Isaiah 22:20-24. Many Protestants will claim that the “Rock” is Peter’s faith, so show the numerous personal references Christ has to Peter. And compare it with the other confessions of faith we see. For example, in John 1:49, it’s Nathanael who first confesses Jesus as the Christ, but it’s Simon that Jesus promises to rename Peter (John 1:42). Likewise, Martha’s confession of faith (John 11:27) is almost identical with Peter’s, yet Jesus never promises to build the Church upon her (or her faith).
   
   Finally, some Protestants will argue that Jesus is calling Peter a “little rock” (Petros) in contrast with the “big rock” (petra) that He will build the Church upon. This distinction doesn’t exist in the Aramaic that Jesus gave the blessing in. Again, see John 1:42: Jesus names Simon “Cephas,” not “Petros” – Petros is a translation (and is translated as “Petros” rather than “Petra,” because “Petra” is feminine). Paul refers to Peter as Cephas several times (1 Cor. 15:5, Gal. 1:18, Gal. 2:11, etc.).

5. Matthew 17:24-27. The only time that Jesus ever uses first-personal plural to refer to Himself and another human is with Peter. And He does so in a way that intentionally limits this “We” to Peter alone.

6. The Apostolic Lists. Matthew 10:2-4, Mark 3:16-19, Luke 6:13-16, and Acts 1:13 each provide lists of the Twelve. The Synoptic lists each end with Judas (by Acts 1:13, Judas is dead). Judas’ position at the bottom is a place of dishonor. In contrast, all four lists put Peter at the top. These are the only two constants: the ordering of the Ten between Peter and Judas varies by list.

7. The “Peter and the others” Passages. There are several of these passages, in which the Twelve Apostles are listed as, for example, “Peter and the others” (Acts 5:29) and “the other Apostles and the Lord’s Brothers and Cephas” (1 Cor. 9:5). Acts 2:14 says that Peter stood up “with the Eleven.” This is significant, because there are Twelve Apostles at this point (Acts 1:26), so Luke appears to be distinguishing Peter even from the other Eleven. On Easter morning, the angel at the empty Tomb did the same thing, sending the women to proclaim Jesus’ Resurrection to “His Disciples and Peter” (Mark 16:6-7). And when Peter and John arrive at the Tomb, John waits for Peter to arrive, before entering (John 20:4-6). Finally, the first half of the Book of Acts (prior to Luke departing to accompany Paul, in Acts 16:10) clearly establishes Peter’s leadership in the Church.

Does the Papacy Survive Peter?

Occasionally, non-Catholics will concede that Peter was the leader of the Apostles, but claim that this doesn’t prove the papacy. For example, the Protestant apologist Keith Mathison has argued:

[Catholic apologist Stephen] Ray also observes that Peter was the leader of the twelve. However, since this is not disputed no response is necessary. What neither Ray nor any Roman Catholic has demonstrated is that this text which involves a specific prayer for one specific man in one specific historical circumstance has anything to do with the modern Roman Catholic papacy.

Mathison’s response strains credulity. If the original structure of the Church was one man (besides Christ) leading and supporting the Twelve, who lead and support the rest of the Church, that looks very much like the modern papacy.

To go from the first pope, to the second, to the 266th, we need to see the connection between the papacy and Rome. Two things are helpful here. First, Peter describes himself as in Rome (“Babylon”) in 1 Peter 5:13. Second, the early Church Fathers are explicit about this connection. (Here, we necessarily have to go outside of Scripture, since we’re looking for historical evidence of the post-Apostolic period.)

For example, Pope Clement I, intervened in a dispute within the Corinthian church. Bear in mind that St. Clement is the fourth pope, and that this epistle dates to about the year 96. Clement begins the letter by making it clear that the Corinthians turned to him to resolve their dispute: “Owing, dear brethren, to the sudden and successive calamitous events which have happened to ourselves, we feel that we have been somewhat tardy in turning our attention to the points respecting which you consulted us…”

A few years later, St. Ignatius of Antioch, a disciple of the Apostle John, describes the Roman Church as “presiding in love.” He pens these words on the way to his martyrdom sometime before 110.

The Apostle John’s other famous student is St. Polycarp. Polycarp’s own student was St. Irenaeus of Lyons, who proclaimed Roman and Petrine supremacy, in no uncertain terms, in his Against Heresies, written about 180 A.D.:

Since, however, it would be very tedious, in such a volume as this, to reckon up the successions of all the Churches, we do put to confusion all those who, in whatever manner, whether by an evil self-pleasing, by vainglory, or by blindness and perverse opinion, assemble in unauthorized meetings; [we do this, I say,] by indicating that tradition derived from the apostles, of the very great, the very ancient, and universally known Church founded and organized at Rome by the two most glorious apostles, Peter and Paul; as also [by pointing out] the faith preached to men, which comes down to our time by means of the successions of the bishops. For it is a matter of necessity that every Church should agree with this Church, on account of its preeminent authority, that is, the faithful everywhere, inasmuch as the apostolical tradition has been preserved continuously by those [faithful men] who exist everywhere.

Throughout the first few centuries, we hear various other references to the pope as the successor of Peter, and head of the Church. To take just one more example, St. Optatus of Milevis was a fourth century Church Father from North Africa who was influential on St. Augustine. In Optatus’ book Against the Donatists, he writes:

So we have proved that the Catholic Church is the Church which is spread throughout the world. […] You cannot then deny that you do know that upon Peter first in the City of Rome was bestowed the Episcopal Cathedra, on which sat Peter, the Head of all the Apostles (for which reason he was called Cephas), that, in this one Cathedra, unity should be preserved by all, lest the other Apostles might claim----each for himself----separate Cathedras, so that he who should set up a second Cathedra against the unique Cathedra would already be a schismatic and a sinner.

Both Irenaeus and Optatus provide evidence for their claims by listing every pope from Peter to the present day. In this way, we can see clearly from history that Peter is the first pope, and we can see the unbroken lineage from Peter down to the modern papacy.

Conclusion

If the Catholic case for the papacy stands, several truths follow. First, we should interpret other disputed doctrines (Mary, Purgatory, the filioque, etc.) through the lens of Magisterial teaching. Second, we have a moral obligation to be a part of the Catholic Church. St. Paul appeals to the Corinthians “that all of you agree and that there be no dissensions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same judgment” (1 Corinthians 1:10). If the papacy is the visible head of the true Church, founded by Jesus Christ, we have an obligation to strive for unity with this head. Finally, we are forbidden from schism, from breaking away from the pope. In Galatians 5:20-21, St. Paul lists “selfish ambition, dissensions, factions and envy” amongst sins of the flesh and warns that “those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God.”

The Father’s Two Sons: What the Prodigal Son Tells us About Divine Sonship

In Exodus 32, Moses has gone up on Mount Sinai to talk to God.  Almost immediately after he left, the Israelites fall into idolatry, worshiping a golden calf (Ex. 32:1-6). God is displeased, and says to Moses, “Go down; for your people, whom you brought up out of the land of Egypt, have corrupted themselves” (Ex. 32:7). Moses responds by pointing the finger back at God: “O Lord, why does thy wrath burn hot against thy people, whom thou hast brought forth out of the land of Egypt with great power and with a mighty hand?” (Ex. 32:11).

Juan Fernández Navarrete, Baptism of Christ (1567)

On one level, this dialogue is almost comical, like two sleep-exhausted parents saying to one another: “your son is crying again, you’d better go take care of him.” But there’s an important message being conveyed. We belong to God, we belong to the Church, and we belong to one another. We are our brothers’ keepers (Gen. 4:9).

The Beauty of Divine Filiation

Sonship is an important theme within the New Testament, both Christ’s and ours.  For example, at His Baptism, the Father says of Jesus, “Thou art my beloved Son; with thee I am well pleased” (Lk. 3:22). And immediately after this, Jesus goes into the desert, where the devil unsuccessfully attacks this filial identity, saying, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread” (Lk. 4:3).  As for us, St. Paul writes, in Romans 8:15-17,

For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the spirit of sonship. When we cry, “Abba! Father!” it is the Spirit himself bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.

It’s this sonship, this filial identity, that the devil seeks to undermine through sin.  We see this illustrated well in the so-called Parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32). A more accurate name for this parable is the Parable of the Two Sons, because it’s told in response to the Pharisees, who are represented by the prodigal’s older brother, and who were complaining that Jesus dined with sinners and tax collectors (Luke 15:1-3).

The Father’s Two Sons

The parable is well known, so I won’t summarize it. Instead, I want to focus on the ending of the parable, in which the older brother is so upset that his Father rejoices at the prodigal’s return that he refuses to go into his Father’s House (Lk. 15:28). This action, even in isolation, is a dramatic action of alienation from what should be his family, but the son doesn’t stop there. His Father rushes out to comfort him (Lk. 15:28), just as he had done to his younger brother (Lk. 15:20). The older brother, the rigorist, says to his Father (Lk. 15:29-30),

Lo, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command; yet you never gave me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your living with harlots, you killed for him the fatted calf!

Rembrandt, The Return of the Prodigal Son (1665)

The contrast between the two brothers is stark. The younger brother, even at his worst, always referred to his Father as Father (Lk. 15:12, 17, 18, 21). At his lowest, the prodigal decides to return to the Father, and to say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me as one of your hired servants” (Lk. 15:18-19). He only makes it halfway through his prepared speech before his Father prepares a welcome home party for him (Lk 15:21-22).

The rigorist, on the other hand, doesn’t address his Father as Father. Instead, this son treats himself as if he’s a hired servant. He says that “these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command,” and it’s on this basis, rather than on the basis of sonship, that he expects the Father to give him nice things. The extreme of the rigorist brother’s alienation can be seen when he describes his brother as “this son of yours.” That phrase is packed with meaning.

It’s an implicit denial of the brotherhood between the two sons, and it’s also an implicit denial of the older son’s sonship. In this way, Christ shows an oft-overlooked truth of Christianity: you can’t have God as Father without Christians as your brothers. Or, as St. Cyprian of Carthage put it, back in the third century,  “He can no longer have God for his Father, who has not the Church for his mother.”  We want the King without His Kingdom, and Jesus always reminds us that this just isn’t possible. You can’t honor the first great commandment, love of God, while rejecting the second great commandment, love of neighbor (Matthew 22:36-40).  Being a child of God means being having the rest of the Church for your brothers and sisters, period.

There are many beautiful scenes in this parable, but one of the best is the Father’s response to his older son (Lk. 15:31-32): “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to make merry and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.” He simultaneously reminds his rigorist son both that (a) he’s His son, and (b) the prodigal is his brother.  In this way, the Father mends his son’s damaged relationship, both with Himself and with his brother.

And suddenly, the two brothers don’t look so different. Both, by their sins, alienate themselves from their Father’s House. The prodigal does it more dramatically, demanding his Father’s inheritance, and running off “into a far country” (Lk. 15:13), while the rigorist just stays a little outside the House, angrily (Lk. 15:25-28). The low point of the prodigal comes when a man sends the prodigal “into his fields to feed swine” (Lk. 15:15), and so it’s fitting that the “elder son was in the field,” also (Lk. 15:25). Both sons feel themselves reduced from sons to servants by their sins, and in both cases, the Father rushes out to restore them to their proper place as sons.

The Glamour of Evil

Rembrandt, The Prodigal Son in the Brothel (1637)

Both sons also show the sheer ugliness of sin. One brother chooses to indulge the sins of the flesh, the other chooses to indulge self-righteousness.  Both are left miserable and alone. Consider, once more, the older son’s reaction to his younger brother’s return. Remember that while the older brother was working (joylessly) for his Father, his son was engaged in what Scripture calls “loose living” (Lk. 15:13). The older brother is scandalized that his brother might go unpunished after all of this behavior, and it’s hard not to read a hint of jealousy in all of this. If this behavior is to go unpunished, perhaps the pharisaic brother would like to do some “loose living” of his own.

This reaction is one that I think a lot of Christians are guilty of: we’ll hear the conversion story of someone who’s lived a life of sex, drugs, partying, and the rest, and some part of us will think, “they got the best of both worlds! They indulged all of those vices, and they’re still going to end up in Heaven!”  But here’s what that reaction misses: the younger brother, while engaged in this sinful lifestyle, was miserable (Lk. 15:13-17):

Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took his journey into a far country, and there he squandered his property in loose living. And when he had spent everything, a great famine arose in that country, and he began to be in want. So he went and joined himself to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would gladly have fed on the pods that the swine ate; and no one gave him anything.  But when he came to himself he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have bread enough and to spare, but I perish here with hunger!”

The younger brother had be reduced, in a way, to something sub-servile, and long after the veneer of the “glamour of evil” had worn off (which happens almost immediately, “not many days later”), the son is dying alone, in isolation from the Father. That’s what sin really looks like.

It’s a diabolical deception to imagine sin as something that’s lots of fun now, as long as we avoid the eternal consequences. The reality is that the hellishness of sin begins here on Earth. Gluttons, the promiscuous, addicts, thieves, bullies, and the like aren’t just punished hereafter. They’re almost invariably miserable here and now. If we miss this point, we miss something fundamental about sin: it can never satisfy us, because we’re made for God alone, and only He can satisfy us.

Guercino, Return of the Prodigal Son (1619)

We see this in the sinful rigorism of the older brother.  Once again, the older brother has less of a flare for the dramatic than his younger brother, but he arrives at the same place. He’s also out in the fields, and he’s also descended into misery. He claims to be upset that he hasn’t been given the opportunity to “make merry with my friends” (Lk. 15:29), but he says this while refusing to go into a merry party. He can even hear the music and dancing (Lk. 15:25), and yet he’d rather mope, clinging to an unsatisfying self-righteousness, envy, and anger. If a merry party is really what his heart desires, the Father has prepared one already in full-swing.

This parable shows us that, just as we belong to God, we belong to one another as brothers and sisters.  In that light, the older brother should have rejoiced to see his brother return, just as the Father did.  After all, this brother is part of the Father’s legacy, part of the “inheritance” the Father has bestowed upon his sons.