Two More "Reformation Day" Ironies

In addition to being Halloween, October 31st is "Reformation Day," celebrating Martin Luther's defiant act of nailing his 95 theses to the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg, Germany, on this day in 1517 (more on this soon). For the last two years, I've used the day to point out the unintentional ironies of Reformation Day - some funny, some sad. In 2011, I noted that Reformation Day:

(1) is celebrated by making graven images of Reformers who hated images;
(2) is intended to Christianize a “pagan” holiday, yet is celebrated by many of the same Evangelicals who refuse to celebrate Christmas for fear that it’s a Christianized pagan holiday;
(3) avoids celebrating “evil” [Halloween] by celebrating evil [schism].

In 2012, I added two more to the list, describing how Reformation Day:

(4) celebrates a document damning Protestants for rejecting papal authority over Apostolic Pardons.
(5) celebrates a movement that, despite its name and initial, failed as a reform movement of the Catholic Church. [After all, if Protestants thought that it had succeeded, they would be Catholics].

Two more ironies to add this year:

(6) Reformation Day is a Protestant Man-Made Accretion Protesting Man-Made Accretions

One of the major reasons that Reformation Day is popular among Protestants is that it celebrates what they believe is the triumph of Truth over false man-made traditions. So, for example, the Protestant blog The Road to 31 explains: "We celebrate Reformation Day because it represents the reclaiming of the one true gospel that had been lost in the Catholic church and replaced with the traditions and teachings of men."

The problem is, a good chunk of the Reformation Day story seems to be made up. As The Road to 31 notes, Reformation Day is built around a central event: "On October 31, 1517 in Wittenberg, Germany Martin Luther nailed his Ninety-Five These on the Power of Efficacy of Indulgences to the door of the Castle Church."

This probably never happened.

But as Luther.de notes:

October 31, 1517: Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg with hammer strokes which echoed throughout all of Europe. This act has been portrayed numerous times thoughout the centuries, and until the 21st century it was accepted as fact. It has become a symbol of the Reformation as nothing else has. 

It was like a slap in the face when the [C]atholic Luther researcher, Erwin Iserloh, asserted in 1961 that the nailing of the theses to the door of the Castle Church belonged to the realm of legends. 

The facts are convincing, the first written account of the event comes from Philipp Melanchthon who could not have been an eye-witness to the event since he was not called to Wittenberg University as a professor until 1518. 

Also, this account appeared for the first time after Luther's death and he never commented on 'nailing anything up' in 1517.  [...]

It is also worth noting, that there was no open discussion of the theses in Wittenberg and that no original printing of the theses could be found.

So Reformation Day takes a legendary bit of Lutheran hagiography, along with other false and ahistorical traditions (like Luther's famous "Here I stand" line from his defense at the Diet of Worms, which was also made up), to commemorate the alleged triumph of truth over man-made tradition.

(7) Reformation Day celebrates the supremacy of the Bible by commemorating an event the Bible condemns.

The other, closely-related reason for Reformation Day's popularity is that the Catholic Church allegedly didn't care about the Bible, and refused to let the people know what the Bible said, much less read it for themselves. These claims persists despite the fact that the Church was the one solely responsible for preserving the Bible for centuries, and despite the numerous Biblical commentaries, etc., being produced at this time, or the various German-language Bibles existing decades before Luther was born, like the Mentel Bible. But ignore all that history. The important part is that Luther came along and showed the Bible was really important!

There are several things ironic about this narrative. The popular version of Luther is that he elevated Scripture over the Church. The real Luther elevated his theological opinions over both Scripture and the Church: he was so convinced that sola fide is right that even when he found parts of the Bible that directly contradicted the doctrine, he just cut them out of the Bible. 

And his Bible, which supposedly put the word of God in the hands of the German people for the first time, actually sowed the seeds of doubts about Scripture, as Luther added his own prefaces, denying the canonicity of the Old Testament Deuterocanon, as well as Hebrews, James, Jude, and Revelation. 

But there's arguably a bigger issue. However compelling you may find the Biblical arguments for the various Protestant doctrines in dispute, Biblical teaching on schism is clearly opposed to the practice. The Bible calls for Christians to be "one in spirit and of one mind" (Phil. 2:2). This is also what Jesus Christ prayed for, for His future followers, in John 17:20-23. St. Paul goes so far as to describe schism, including both dissensions and factions, as the sort of sin that will keep you out of Heaven (Gal. 5:20). And this becomes a real problem for those defending Reformation Day: they're celebrating a set of events that culminate in schism. 

Of course, Biblically-literate Protestants aren't blind to this fact. The Road to 31 defends the celebration of schism this way:

You might ask why is a schism in the Church something to be celebrated? Should we not welcome unity rather than division? 

Unity within the Church is a very good thing and is even commanded (Philippians 2:2), but so is separating out the wheat from the tares (Matthew 13). The Church will always need sifting while we are on this earth. Our pews and even pulpits are full of sinners, some saved by grace and some not. Corruption cannot and will not be tolerated within the Body of Christ.

Look at the wheat and tares parable cited to support schism. It teaches literally the opposite of what Reformation Day teaches (Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43)

Jesus told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field. But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away. When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared.  

“The owner’s servants came to him and said, ‘Sir, didn’t you sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?’ 

“‘An enemy did this,’ he replied. 

“The servants asked him, ‘Do you want us to go and pull them up?’ 

“‘No,’ he answered, ‘because while you are pulling the weeds, you may uproot the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest. At that time I will tell the harvesters: First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat and bring it into my barn.’” [....]

Then he left the crowd and went into the house. His disciples came to him and said, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds in the field.” 

He answered, “The one who sowed the good seed is the Son of Man. The field is the world, and the good seed stands for the people of the kingdom. The weeds are the people of the evil one, and the enemy who sows them is the devil. The harvest is the end of the age, and the harvesters are angels. 

“As the weeds are pulled up and burned in the fire, so it will be at the end of the age. The Son of Man will send out his angels, and they will weed out of his kingdom everything that causes sin and all who do evil. They will throw them into the blazing furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Whoever has ears, let them hear.”

So the Body of Christ, until the end of time, will contain both Saints and sinners. And of course, this has always been true, as anyone familiar with the Apostle Judas should be aware. Christ explicitly forbids us from trying to create a manmade church of just the wheat (and prophesies that it'll never succeed). Yet this is the passage that The Road to 31 uses to defend Reformation Day, since apparently we have arrogated to ourselves the duty of “separating out the wheat from the tares,” a duty Christ entrusts to the angels at the Last Judgment.

The Council of Florence on the Pope, the Church and the Bible

The Council of Florence is one of the most exciting, and in some ways, one of the most tragic, Councils in the history of the Church. It’s one of the so-called “reunion Councils,” which seemed poised to heal the Great Schism between the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Church.

The first reunion Council was the Second Council of Lyons in 1274. Here’s how OrthodoxWiki describes that Council:

Joos van Cleve (?),
Triptych of Saint Peter, Saint Paul and Saint Andrew (1520)

Concerning the Union of the Churches, the Orthodox delegation arrived in Lyons on June 24, 1245 and presented a letter from emperor Michael. On Feast of Peter and Paul, June 29, Pope Gregory celebrated a Mass in the Church of St. John in which both sides took part. During the Mass, the Orthodox clergy sang the Nicene Creed with the addition of the Filioque clause three times. The council was seemingly a success. […] 

The council did not provide a lasting solution to the schism. While the emperor was eager to heal the schism, the Orthodox clergy did not accept it. Patriarch Joseph I (Galesiotes) of Constantinople, who opposed the council, abdicated and was succeeded by John Bekkos who favored the union. In spite of a sustained campaign by Patr. Bekkos to defend the union intellectually, and with vigorous and brutal repression of opponents by emperor Michael, the Orthodox Christians remained implacably opposed to union with the Latin "heretics". Michael's death in December 1282 finally put an end to the union of Lyons. His son and successor Andronicus II repudiated the union. Patr. Bekkos was forced to abdicate. He was eventually exiled and then imprisoned until his death in 1297.

It would be over a hundred and fifty years before the Church would try again at the Seventeenth Ecumenical Council (1438-1449). Although it is known as the Council of Florence, it was convened at Basel. It was moved to Ferrara, due to the Bubonic plague, and then to coastal Florence, for the sake of the Eastern emissaries, who arrived by ship. Meanwhile, to make matters more confusing, a rival Council persisted in Basel, claiming to be the true Ecumenical Council, against the pope's explicit wishes.

Pope Eugene IV was personally in attendance in Florence, and promulgated the conciliar decrees as papal bulls. Also in attendance were the Eastern Roman Emperor, John VIII Palaiologos, along with seven hundred other Greeks. His representatives included: Joseph II (Patriarch of Constantinople), Mark (Archbishop of Ephesus), Basilios Bessarion (Bishop of Nicaea), and Isidore (Metropolitan of Kiev and Moscow). The Emperor's attendance is significant, by the way: in the eyes of many in the East, it was necessary for a truly ecumenical Council.

As with the Second Council of Lyons, the Council of Florence initially appeared to be a success. The Sixth Session declared:

Benozzo Gozzoli, Journey of the Magi (1459)
The physical appearance of the Magis and their assistants reflects
Western Europeans' fascination with the new visitors from the East and Africa.

Let the heavens be glad and let the earth rejoice. For, the wall that divided the western and the eastern church has been removed, peace and harmony have returned, since the corner-stone, Christ, who made both one, has joined both sides with a very strong bond of love and peace, uniting and holding them together in a covenant of everlasting unity. After a long haze of grief and a dark and unlovely gloom of long-enduring strife, the radiance of hoped-for union has illuminated all. 

Let mother church also rejoice. For she now beholds her sons hitherto in disagreement returned to unity and peace, and she who hitherto wept at their separation now gives thanks to God with inexpressible joy at their truly marvellous harmony. Let all the faithful throughout the world, and those who go by the name of Christian, be glad with mother catholic church. For behold, western and eastern fathers after a very long period of disagreement and discord, submitting themselves to the perils of sea and land and having endured labours of all kinds, came together in this holy ecumenical council, joyful and eager in their desire for this most holy union and to restore intact the ancient love. In no way have they been frustrated in their intent. After a long and very toilsome investigation, at last by the clemency of the holy Spirit they have achieved this greatly desired and most holy union.

The initial success of the East-West union gained momentum quickly. Within a few years, reunion appeared possible, not just between the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Churches, but nearly all of the various schismatic Churches, including some (like the Chaldeans and Copts), who had broken off centuries prior to the Great Schism. The Bull of Union with the Copts (1442) captures the excitement of a Church on the brink of reunion:

For in less than three years our lord Jesus Christ by his indefatigable kindness, to the common and lasting joy of the whole of Christianity, has generously effected in this holy ecumenical synod the most salutary union of three great nations. Hence it has come about that nearly the whole of the east that adores the glorious name of Christ and no small part of the north, after prolonged discord with the holy Roman church, have come together in the same bond of faith and love. For first the Greeks and those subject to the four patriarchal sees, which cover many races and nations and tongues, then the Armenians, who are a race of many peoples, and today indeed the Jacobites, who are a great people in Egypt, have been united with the holy apostolic see.

Sadly, whatever union existed quickly dissolved. The Eastern Orthodox Patriarch, Joseph of Constantinople, died. He was replaced by Patriarch Metrophanes II, who also favored union. In the end, the emperor supported the reunion of East and West, as did all but one (Mark of Ephesus) of his four delegates. However, this played out badly back in the East. For supporting reunion, Metropolitan Isidore was nicknamed “the Apostate.” Patriarch Metrophanes was nicknamed “Mitrofonos” (“mother killer”), and the Grand Prince of Moscow, Vasily II, declared him deposed and ordered his arrest. All three pro-union delegates would live out their final days in Italy. In contrast, the Orthodox Church declared the anti-union holdout Mark of Ephesus as a Saint. And of course, the Protestant Reformation arose less than a century later, further damaging the unity of the Body of Christ.

Although it ended badly, the Council of Florence is a remarkable moment in Christian history. Christians representing all of the major Churches around the known world gathered together and tentatively agreed on a plan to reunite the Church. Here’s what they agreed upon, at least for a while:

I. The Council of Florence on the Sacraments

The Bull of Union with the Armenians succinctly spells out the Seven Sacraments, and their efficaciousness:

Fifthly, for the easier instruction of the Armenians of today and in the future we reduce the truth about the sacraments of the church to the following brief scheme. There are seven sacraments of the new Law, namely baptism, confirmation, eucharist, penance, extreme unction, orders and matrimony, which differ greatly from the sacraments of the old Law. The latter were not causes of grace, but only prefigured the grace to be given through the passion of Christ; whereas the former, ours, both contain grace and bestow it on those who worthily receive them.

II. The Council of Florence on the Pope and the Church

Here is what the Council said on the papacy, from the Sixth Session:

Pope Eugene IV

We also define that the holy apostolic see and the Roman pontiff holds the primacy over the whole world and the Roman pontiff is the successor of blessed Peter prince of the apostles, and that he is the true vicar of Christ, the head of the whole church and the father and teacher of all Christians, and to him was committed in blessed Peter the full power of tending, ruling and governing the whole church, as is contained also in the acts of ecumenical councils and in the sacred canons. 

Also, renewing the order of the other patriarchs which has been handed down in the canons, the patriarch of Constantinople should be second after the most holy Roman pontiff, third should be the patriarch of Alexandria, fourth the patriarch of Antioch, and fifth the patriarch of Jerusalem, without prejudice to all their privileges and rights.

Of course, this is an acknowledgement of something significantly larger than a mere “primacy of honor.” And in fact, in the Bull of Union with the Copts, the Council described the Church as the “holy Roman church, founded on the words of our Lord and Saviour.” Florence also condemned the heresy of conciliarism, which held that Ecumenical Councils were more powerful than popes, and could bind them. Florence condemned as heretical and schismatic the conciliarist movement at the robber council in Basel. 

This is not to say that Ecumenical Councils were sidelined. On the contrary, Florence called on them to play an important role in the unified Church, with the pope and patriarchs present (either in person or through legates):

Benozzo Gozzoli, Journey of the Magi (1459) (detail)
A Magi believed to be modeled off of Emperor John VIII Palaiologos

Lastly, the ambassadors of the Greeks were requested to explain the meaning of some terms contained in their instructions. First, what they understand by "universal synod". They replied that the pope and the patriarchs ought to be present at the synod either in person or through their procurators; similarly other prelates ought to be present either in person or through representatives; and they promised, as is stated above, that the lord emperor of the Greeks and the patriarch of Constantinople will participate in person. "Free and inviolate", that is each may freely declare his judgment without any obstacle or violence. "Without contention", that is without quarrelsome and ill-tempered contention; but debates and discussions which are necessary, peaceful, honest and charitable are not excluded. "Apostolic and canonical", to explain how these words and the way of proceeding in the synod are to be understood, they refer themselves to what the universal synod itself shall declare and arrange. Also that the emperor of the Greeks and their church shall have due honour, that is to say, what it had when the present schism began, always saving the rights, honours, privileges and dignities of the supreme pontiff and the Roman church and the emperor of the Romans. If any doubt arises, let it be referred to the decision of the said universal council.

To the antipope Felix V, the Council said:

He cannot have God as his father If he does not hold the unity of the church. He who does not agree with the body of the church and the whole brotherhood, cannot agree with anyone. Since Christ suffered for the church and since the church is the body of Christ, without doubt the person who divides the church is convicted of lacerating the body of Christ. Hence the avenging will of the Lord went forth against schismatics like Korah, Dathan and Abiram, who were swallowed up together by an opening in the ground for instigating schism against Moses, the man of God, and others were consumed by fire from heaven; idolatry indeed was punished by the sword; and the burning of the book was requited by the slaughter of war and imprisonment in exile. 

Finally, how indivisible is the sacrament of unity! How bereft of hope, and how punished by God's indignation with the direst loss, are those who produce schism and, abandoning the true spouse of the church, set up a pseudo-bishop! [...] Hence, as blessed Jerome declares, nobody should doubt that the crime of schism is very wicked since it is avenged so severely.

As an aside, it’s prescient that the Council should follow Jude 1:11 in comparing schismatics to Korah, Dathan and Abiram. The basis of Korah’s schism (as articulated in Numbers 16:3) was that the Aaronic priesthood was contrary to the priesthood of all believers (Exodus 19:6). Less than a century after this declaration, a monk named Martin Luther argued that the Catholic priesthood was contrary to the priesthood of all believers (1 Peter 2:9).

III. The Council of Florence on the Bible

In the Bull of Union with the Copts, a declaration of faith was prepared to explain what the Church held. It included a section on Scripture, listing (by name) each of the 73 Books of the Catholic Bible as canonical. I bolded the seven Books in dispute between Catholics and Protestants:

Jose de Ribera, St. Paul (17th c.)

It [the Church] professes that one and the same God is the author of the old and the new Testament — that is, the law and the prophets, and the gospel — since the saints of both testaments spoke under the inspiration of the same Spirit. It accepts and venerates their books, whose titles are as follows.

Five books of Moses, namely Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy; Joshua, Judges, Ruth, four books of Kings, two of Paralipomenon, Esdras, Nehemiah, Tobit, Judith, Esther, Job, Psalms of David, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs, Wisdom, Ecclesiasticus, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Baruch, Ezechiel, Daniel; the twelve minor prophets, namely Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, Malachi; two books of the Maccabees; the four gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John; fourteen letters of Paul, to the Romans, two to the Corinthians, to the Galatians, to the Ephesians, to the Philippians, two to the Thessalonians, to the Colossians, two to Timothy, to Titus, to Philemon, to the Hebrews; two letters of Peter, three of John, one of James, one of Jude; Acts of the Apostles; Apocalypse of John.

Hence it anathematizes the madness of the Manichees who posited two first principles, one of visible things, the other of invisible things, and said that one was the God of the new Testament, the other of the old Testament.

It’s often said that the Catholic Church didn’t define the canon until after the Reformation. But here we see the Church laying out the canon of Scripture, with an anathema clause at the end. While this may not (technically) be a dogmatic definition, it eliminates any ambiguity about whether or not the Deuterocanon is canonical.

Conclusion

There’s so much more that can be said about this Council. It mentioned Purgatory briefly, affirmed that Jesus “took a real and complete human nature from the immaculate womb of the virgin Mary” (who the Council described as ever-Virgin), explained that the Apostolic prohibition against “food sacrificed to idols and from blood and from what is strangled” was lifted, etc.

Of course, the failure of the reunion Council reminds us that we shouldn’t be too Pollyannaish. Even if an amicable Patriarch should agree to reunion with the Church, this is no guarantee that his flock will follow him. Nevertheless, it is heartening to know that there was a time, nearly four hundred years after 1054, in which delegates from the Orthodox and Coptic Churches, including the Patriarch of Constantinople himself, were willing to affirm the Catholic faith, including papal primacy, the Catholic canon of Scripture, and so on.

Pray hard that this long-desired unification between East and West should become a reality someday, and soon!

Establishing Absolute, Knowable Truth, in Three Easy Steps

Gorgias

Gorgias the Nihilist, an ancient Greek philosopher, was said to have argued the following four points:

1. Nothing exists;
2. Even if something exists, nothing can be known about it; and
3. Even if something can be known about it, knowledge about it can't be communicated to others.
4. Even if it can be communicated, it cannot be understood.

Of course, if you can understand his argument, he’s wrong. So too, many modern thinkers hold to positions that, fall apart into self-refutation when critically examined.

Today, I want to look at three such popular claims. In showing their inherent contradictions, I hope to show why we can (and must) affirm that knowable, non-empirically testable, absolute truths exist.

Step 1: Answering Relativism

The claim: “Absolute truth does not exist.”

Why it’s Self-Refuting: The claim “absolute truth does not exist” is either absolutely true or it’s not. But, of course, it can’t be absolutely true, since that would create a contradiction: we would have proven the existence of an absolute truth, the claim itself. Since it cannot be absolutely true, we must concede that there are some cases in which the proposition “absolute truth does not exist” must be false… in which case, we’re back to affirming the existence of absolute truth.

What we can know: Absolute truth exists. Put another way, the claim “absolute truth exists” is absolutely true.

Step 2: Answering Skepticism

Allan Arnold, The Boy Nihilist (1909)

The claim: “We can’t know anything for certain.” Or “I don’t know if we can know anything for certain.”

Why it’s Self-Refuting: This one is a subtler self-refutation then the first, because it looks humble. After all, if I can say, “I don’t know the number of stars in the universe,” why can’t I take it a few steps further, and say, “I can’t know anything for certain”?

Simple. Because in saying that, you’re claiming to know something about your own knowledge. When we say, “I don’t know x,” we’re saying, “I know that my knowledge on x is inconclusive.”

Take the most mild-seeming statement: “I don’t know if we can know anything for certain.” What you’re really saying is that, “I know that my knowledge on whether anything can be known for certain is inconclusive.” So you’re still affirming something: that you know your knowledge to be inconclusive.

There are two ways of showing this. First, because it could be a lie. The claim “I don’t know who took the last cookie,” could very well be proven false, if we later found the cookie in your purse. So these “I don’t know” claims are still affirming something, even if they’re just affirming ignorance.

Second, apply the “I don’t know” to another person. If I said, “You don’t know anything about cars,” I’m making a definitive statement about what you do and don’t know. To be able to make that statement, I have to have some knowledge about you and about cars. So if I was to say, “you don’t know if we can know anything for certain,” I’d be claiming to know that you were a skeptic – a fact that I can’t know, since I’m not sure who’s reading this right now.

So when you say “I don’t know if we can know anything for certain,” you’re saying that you know for certain that you’re ignorant on the matter. But that establishes that things necessarily can be known for certain.

This is unavoidable: to make a claim, you’re claiming to know something. So any positive formulation of skepticism (“no one can know anything for certain,” “I can’t know anything for certain,” “I don’t know anything for certain,” etc.) ends up being self-refuting. For this reason, the cleverest skeptics worded their skepticism as rhetorical questions (e.g., de Montaigne’s “What do I know?”). If they were to say what they’re hinting at, it would be self-refuting. They avoid it by merely suggesting the self-refuting proposition.


Finally, remember that in Step 1 we determined that the claim “absolute truth exists” is absolutely true. We’ve established this by showing the logical contradiction of holding the contrary position. In other words, we’ve already identified a truth that we can know for certain: “absolute truth exists.”

What we can know: Absolute truth exists, and is knowable.

Step 3: Answering Scientific Materialism

Lovis Corinth, Ludwig Edinger (1909)

The claim: “All truth is empirically or scientifically testable.”

Why it’s Self-Refuting: The claim that “All truth is empirically or scientifically testable” is not empirically or scientifically testable. It’s not even conceivable to scientifically test a hypothesis about the truths of non-scientifically testable hypotheses. In fact, “all truth is empirically or scientifically testable” is a broad (self-refuting) metaphysical and epistemological claim.

What about the seemingly moderate claim, “We cannot know if anything is true outside of the natural sciences”? Remember, from Step 2, that “I don’t know x,” means the same as saying, “I know that my knowledge on x is inconclusive.” Here, it means, “I know that my knowledge on the truth of things outside of the natural sciences is inconclusive.” But the natural sciences can never establish your ignorance of truths outside the natural sciences. So to make this claim, you need to affirm as certain a truth that you could not have derived from the natural sciences. So even this more moderate-seeming claim is self-refuting.

Furthermore, all scientific knowledge is built upon a bed of metaphysical propositions (for example, the principle of noncontradiction) that cannot be established scientifically. Get rid of these, and you get rid of the basis for every natural science. There’s no way of rejecting these premises while still affirming the conclusions that the natural sciences produce.

Finally, remember that in Step 2, we established the truth of the claim “absolute truth exists, and is knowable.” This is a truth we know with certainty, but it’s not an empirical or scientific question. It can be established simply by seeing that its negation is a contradiction. So that’s a concrete example of an absolute truth known apart from the empirical and scientific testing of the natural sciences.

Conclusion: There exists absolute and knowable truth, outside of the realm of the natural sciences, and not subject to empirical and scientific testing.

Why Argue Against Non-Catholic Beliefs? Why Not Just Argue for Catholicism?

Why do I argue against Protestantism, Mormonism, Atheism, etc.?

This question came up recently, in response to my last post. Instead of laying out the case for the Catholic interpretation of Matthew 16:18, it was an explanation of why the Protestant interpretation was wrong. On Facebook, a reader responded, “You should rename your blog from Catholic Defense to Here's Why Your Religious Beliefs Are Wrong, Heathen.”

So let me give three reasons why I think an important part of defending Catholicism involves pointing out where alternative or contrary belief systems are wrong:

Reason # 1 

E-5 Candidates taking a standardized quiz.

An important part of defending Catholicism involves showing why this faith has a better explanatory power than alternatives. To fail to do that would be to leave the argument half-done. To put it in debate terms, I’m making an affirmative case for Catholicism; but that includes showing why Catholicism is preferable to the various counter-plans (Protestantism, Mormonism, Atheism, etc.). If I didn’t believe that it was preferable, I wouldn’t be Catholic. 

If you prefer, think about it in terms of a standardized test: you use the process of elimination to eliminate the wrong answers. What remains is the right answer.This is very clear in the context of the debate over Matthew 16:18, since there are generally only two options put forward. The Protestant website GotQuestions? framed in way:

The debate rages over whether “the rock” on which Christ will build His church is Peter, or Peter’s confession that Jesus is “the Christ, the Son of the Living God” (Matthew 16:16). In all honesty, there is no way for us to be 100% sure which view is correct.

The Catholic interpretation makes sense, works Scripturally, and finds Patristic support. But if the Protestant interpretation also works, then there’s “no way for us to be 100% sure which view is correct.” But if we can show, as I think I have in the prior post, that the Protestant interpretation doesn’t work, then the matter is settled. Through the process of elimination, we’ve eliminated one of the two choices.

Reason # 2

In showing what Catholicism doesn’t teach, the affirmative teachings of the Church are better delimited and elucidated. This is a basic reality. Almost any affirmative statement is open to misinterpretation. Through a process of negation (“No, I don’t mean THAT by this statement”) the meaning of the original statement is made clearer.

If you want to see this truth in practice, read a little Church history. Core doctrines, like the Trinity or the Dual Natures of Christ, are seminally present from the very beginning. But it’s in response to heresies that these doctrines are more clearly elucidated. That’s why, for example, the original Nicene Creed ended with a series of Anathema clauses, condemning specific heretical interpretations of the Creed. The Church was making it abundantly clear what was meant, by explaining what wasn’t meant.

Reason # 3

Domenico Fetti, Archimedes Thoughtful (1620)

These belief systems are worthy of refutation. In this approach, I hope you don’t sense any disrespect towards non-Catholics. In critiquing these contrary religious beliefs analytically, I’m treating them as if they’re serious truth-claims that can stand or fall with critical analysis. Honestly, I think that it’s far more disrespectful to treat people’s religious claims in that condescending “Well, that’s true for you, so great!” approach that presupposes (but never bothers determining) that the religious claims in question aren’t objectively true.

Of course, the approach that I’m taking assumes that people are capable of rational thought, and aren’t just clinging to their religion or belief system irrationally. But this is an assumption that, even on this blog,  has been vindicated several times. Conversions do happen, and while they’re the work of the Holy Spirit, He deigns to use human instruments to create the openings through which He works.

So those are my thoughts. Of course, I’d love to hear your feedback: do you think that this approach works? Do you think that the right balance is struck? Anything that you’d particularly like to see more (or less) of?

Is "The Rock" of Matthew 16:18 St. Peter? Or His Confession of Faith?

One of the most hotly-contested passages in Catholic-Protestant dialogues is the “Upon This Rock” passage in Matthew 16:18. After the Apostle Simon confesses faith in Jesus as the Messiah (the Christ), Jesus says to him “And I tell you, you are Peter, [Petros] and on this rock [petra] I will build my church, and the powers of death [Hades] shall not prevail against it.” So is Jesus founding His Church upon Peter, the first pope, as Catholics say? Or is He just saying that the Church will be built off of those who confess faith in Jesus as the Christ, as many Protestants claim?

The Protestant website GotQuestions? does a good job of presenting the basic argument on both sides:

Peter Paul Rubens, Delivery of the Keys (1616)

The debate rages over whether “the rock” on which Christ will build His church is Peter, or Peter’s confession that Jesus is “the Christ, the Son of the Living God” (Matthew 16:16). In all honesty, there is no way for us to be 100% sure which view is correct. The grammatical construction allows for either view. The first view is that Jesus was declaring that Peter would be the “rock” on which He would build His church. Jesus appears to be using a play on words. “You are Peter (petros) and on this rock (petra) I will build my church.” Since Peter’s name means rock, and Jesus is going to build His church on a rock – it appears that Christ is linking the two together. God used Peter greatly in the foundation of the church. It was Peter who first proclaimed the Gospel on the day of Pentecost (Acts 2:14-47). Peter was also the first to take the Gospel to the Gentiles (Acts 10:1-48). In a sense, Peter was the rock “foundation” of the church. 

The other popular interpretation of the rock is that Jesus was referring not to Peter, but to Peter’s confession of faith in verse 16: “You are the Christ, the son of the living God.” Jesus had never explicitly taught Peter and the other disciples the fullness of His identity, and He recognized that God had sovereignly opened Peter’s eyes and revealed to him who Jesus really was. His confession of Christ as Messiah poured forth from him, a heart-felt declaration of Peter’s personal faith in Jesus. It is this personal faith in Christ which is the hallmark of the true Christian. Those who have placed their faith in Christ, as Peter did, are the church.

I’ve previously presented the case for the Catholic interpretation before, but that’s not what I’m going to do today. In this post, I want to show why the popular Protestant interpretation doesn't work.

First, let's examine the Scriptural passage in context (Matthew 16:13-19):

Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesare′a Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do men say that the Son of man is?” And they said, “Some say John the Baptist, others say Eli′jah, and others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter replied, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” And Jesus answered him, “Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jona! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven. And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the powers of death shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.”

In the span of just three of those verses, Jesus addresses Peter personally ten times. Yet under the Protestant interpretation, we’re supposed to believe that this passage wasn’t meant to apply to Peter personally. It’s allegedly addressed to any Christian making such a profession like the one that Peter makes: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” 

There are a couple glaring problems with this theory. First, we hear Martha making this exact declaration in John 11:27, “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, he who is coming into the world.” And you know what Christ doesn’t do? Change her name to Petra, and promise to build the Church upon her. Nor do we see any of the other Christians in the New Testament renamed Peter. The only person in Scripture ever referred to as “Peter” is the Apostle Simon. This looks a lot like Jesus meant to build the Church upon Peter, and not just anyone willing to declare Him the Messiah.

But okay, we don’t know whether Martha or Peter’s confession of faith came first. So maybe Jesus addresses Matthew 16:18 to Peter because Peter got there first?

Well, this raises the other, even more-glaring problem: Peter didn’t get there first. John 1:32-49 eliminates any room for the Protestant interpretation of the “Upon This Rock” passage. Here it is:

Mathis Gothart Grünewald, Isenheim Altarpiece (1516)
(detail - John the Baptist)

And John bore witness, “I saw the Spirit descend as a dove from heaven, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him; but he who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain, this is he who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’ And I have seen and have borne witness that this is the Son of God.”

The next day again John was standing with two of his disciples; and he looked at Jesus as he walked, and said, “Behold, the Lamb of God!” The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. Jesus turned, and saw them following, and said to them, “What do you seek?” And they said to him, “Rabbi” (which means Teacher), “where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come and see.” They came and saw where he was staying; and they stayed with him that day, for it was about the tenth hour. One of the two who heard John speak, and followed him, was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first found his brother Simon, and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which means Christ). He brought him to Jesus. Jesus looked at him, and said, “So you are Simon the son of John? You shall be called Cephas” (which means Peter).

The next day Jesus decided to go to Galilee. And he found Philip and said to him, “Follow me.” Now Philip was from Beth-sa′ida, the city of Andrew and Peter. Philip found Nathan′a-el, and said to him, “We have found him of whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.” Nathan′a-el said to him, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip said to him, “Come and see.” Jesus saw Nathan′a-el coming to him, and said of him, “Behold, an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile!” Nathan′a-el said to him, “How do you know me?” Jesus answered him, “Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you.” Nathan′a-el answered him, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!”

This passage is fantastic. We hear a series of proclamations of the faith:

1. John the Baptist proclaims Jesus as the Son of God (John 1:34) and the Lamb of God (John 1:36). 
2. The Apostle Andrew, Simon’s brother, proclaims Jesus as the Messiah, the Christ (John 1:41). 
3. The Apostle Philip proclaims Jesus as “him of whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote,” which is to say, the Messiah (John 1:45). 
4. The Apostle Nathaniel proclaims Jesus as “the Son of God” and “the King of Israel” (John 1:49).

In fact, the only person named in this passage who doesn’t profess faith in Christ is Simon Peter. He’s not recorded as saying anything. And yet right in the midst of this flurry of Messianic proclamations, Jesus does something astounding. He turns to Simon, and as if He has been waiting for him, says “So you are Simon the son of John? You shall be called Cephas.” It’s remarkable that Jesus should do this: He calls Simon by name, including his family name (so to speak). He does the exact same thing in Matthew 16:18. This is as personal as it gets. And as St. John notes, Cephas is the Aramaic word for rock, and is translated into Greek as Petros, and into English as “Peter.”

So John 1 basically shows us that: (1) everyone but Simon proclaimed that Jesus is the Messiah; (2) Jesus then announced that Simon, Son of John, was the one He would choose as the Rock; and (3) Protestants are left spending five hundred years trying to explain why this passage doesn't mean that Simon is really the Rock, or is personally the Rock, etc.

Bear in mind, this event happens at the very start of Jesus’ public ministry, long before the events of Matthew 16. This eliminates any chance that Simon is named Peter because he’s the first to declare Jesus the Christ. Jesus was being declared as Messiah before Peter had even met Him. Instead, Jesus has made it abundantly clear that He, the Sovereign God, specifically chose Peter as the Rock.

Peter is hand-picked from among the crowd, even when he is surrounded by men who seem like they would be better candidates. It is another reminder that “the LORD sees not as man sees; man looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7). And Peter alone is renamed. We may all be rocks (Peter calls us “living stones” in 1 Peter 2:5) but Jesus (the “Living Stone” in the fullest sense, 1 Peter 2:4) chose one from among of us, the Apostle Peter, to be the Rock upon which He built the Church.

Update: Two additional points, worth mentioning, were raised in the comments:

1. Many Protestants base their rejection of the Catholic view off of the supposed difference in meaning between Petros and Petra. That difference in meaning doesn’t really exist in the Greek spoken at the time of Christ. But in any case, as John 1:43 shows, Jesus named Peter “Cephas” in Aramaic, which is the exact same word as “Rock.” In Aramaic it’s Cephas and cephas; literally translating that to Greek would give you Petra and petra, which is a problem, since Petra is feminine, and can’t be used as a man’s name. So St. Matthew renders it as the male Petros instead.
   
2. Even if Protestants were right about the proper interpretation of “the Rock” in Matthew 16, the broader passage still supports the papacy, since it shows the foundation of an institutional Church, and the giving of specific powers (the Keys, and the powers of binding/loosening) to Peter individually. For this reason, you can have Fathers like St. Augustine, who aren’t sure on the proper interpretation of “the Rock,” but are steadfast in their belief in the papacy, based upon Petrine authority.
   
   In fact, even if Matthew 16 didn’t exist, there would still be abundant support for the papacy throughout the rest of Scripture and in the testimony of the early Christians.

Pope Francis and the White Crucifixion

When asked about his favorite painters, Pope Francis responded: “Among the great painters, I admire Caravaggio; his paintings speak to me. But also Chagall, with his ‘White Crucifixion.’” It's a fascinating choice.

Marc Chagall was, as Wikipedia notes, “the quintessential Jewish artist of the twentieth century.” He was also captured by the figure of Jesus Christ: he has numerous paintings of the Crucifixion, and designed stained glass windows for several Christian churches. His White Crucifixion, the painting mentioned by Pope Francis, was painted in 1938, on the eve of the Holocaust. It depicts Jesus as a Jew, even wearing a Jewish prayer shawl (a tallit), while He is surrounded on all sides by anti-Semitic violence.

Marc Chagall, White Crucifixion (1938)

This dimension of the faith, Jesus the Jew, hovers over every Crucifix in the “INRI” inscription. It's also reflected in two particularly strong statements on the subject:

“Mark well that in the Catholic Mass, Abraham is our Patriarch and forefather. Anti-Semitism is incompatible with the lofty thought which that fact expresses. It is a movement with which we Christians can have nothing to do. No, no I say to you it is impossible for a Christian to take part in anti-Semitism. It is inadmissible. Through Christ and in Christ we are the spiritual progeny of Abraham. Spiritually, we are all Semites.” - Pope Pius XI, September 6, 1938.

“Anti-Semitism, a quite modern development, is the most horrible buffet that Our Lord has received in His Passion, which is still going on; it is the most outrageous and the most unpardonable because He receives it on the face of His Mother and from Christian hands.” - Léon Bloy (the Catholic poet and author referenced in Pope Francis’ first homily as pope).

"The Immortal Sign": The Power of the Sign of the Cross

The Sign of the Cross is rejected by most Protestants, and misunderstood by all too many Catholics. In reality, it’s one of the most powerful spiritual weapons we have, as early Christian history attests. Did you know that Christians making the Sign of the Cross lead to a massive anti-Christian persecution? Or that the early Christians reported that the Sign of the Cross put demons to flight? Read on.

The Sign of the Cross and the Diocletian Persecution

Lactantius, a Christian advisor to Emperor Constantine, who lived through the Diocletian persecutions, recalls in Chapter X of his book De Mortibus Persecutorum how those persecutions began. The emperor Diocletian, although a pagan (and a superstitious one), had not initially been hostile to Christians. Not only were there high-ranking Christians in the Roman government and army, but there’s evidence that the emperor may have had Christians in his own family. At the time, Christians lived peacefully in the empire: the emperor Gallienus had ended the anti-Christian persecutions several decades before, in 260.

Roman relief from the Louvre showing a haruspex
waiting to inspect after a sacrifice. Photo: Flickr aegean-blue.

All of this changed in 299 A.D., when Diocletian went to the haruspices to learn the future. The haruspices claimed to foresee the future by using animal entrails, a pagan practice condemned in Ezekiel 21:21. The Christians rightly recognized that what they were actually doing was communicating with demons (1 Corinthians 10:20). So when the haruspices began their demonic ritual, Diocletian's Christian companions responded by making the Sign of the Cross, which Lactantius calls “the immortal sign,” on their foreheads. Immediately, the demons flee. The haruspices are furious, and blame the Christians. Galerius Cæsar (second-in-command to the emperor, and his successor) encourages Diocletian to respond by persecuting the Christians, which he does.

Here’s Lactantius’ account:

Diocletian, as being of a timorous disposition, was a searcher into futurity, and during his abode in the East he began to slay victims, that from their livers he might obtain a prognostic of events; and while he sacrificed, some attendants of his, who were Christians, stood by, and they put the immortal sign on their foreheads. At this the demons were chased away, and the holy rites interrupted. The soothsayers trembled, unable to investigate the wonted marks on the entrails of the victims. They frequently repeated the sacrifices, as if the former had been unpropitious; but the victims, slain from time to time, afforded no tokens for divination. At length Tages, the chief of the soothsayers, either from guess or from his own observation, said, “There are profane persons here, who obstruct the rites.” 

Then Diocletian, in furious passion, ordered not only all who were assisting at the holy ceremonies, but also all who resided within the palace, to sacrifice, and, in case of their refusal, to be scourged. And further, by letters to the commanding officers, he enjoined that all soldiers should be forced to the like impiety, under pain of being dismissed the service. Thus far his rage proceeded; but at that season he did nothing more against the law and religion of God. After an interval of some time he went to winter in Bithynia; and presently Galerius Cæsar came thither, inflamed with furious resentment, and purposing to excite the inconsiderate old man to carry on that persecution which he had begun against the Christians.

This resulted in the bloodiest persecution of Christians in Roman history, with thousands of Christians being martyred at a time when the faith scarcely had thousands of martyrs to spare. Many of the famous early Christian martyrs were sent to their eternal reward in this, the so-called “Great Persecution.” Eusebius recalls the beginning of the Great Persecution in Book VIII, Chapter 2 of Church History:

All these things [the Scriptural prophesies of the persecution of the Church] were fulfilled in us, when we saw with our own eyes the houses of prayer thrown down to the very foundations, and the Divine and Sacred Scriptures committed to the flames in the midst of the market-places, and the shepherds of the churches basely hidden here and there, and some of them captured ignominiously, and mocked by their enemies.

The Romans quickly went from destroying Scriptures and churches to executing Christians as well. In fact, Diocletian’s reign was so bloody that the Alexandrian church (including the Coptic Church today) began using an Anno Martyrum (“Year of the Martyrs”) calendar, measured from the beginning of Diocletian's reign, as the beginning of the age of martyrs. This calendar would later influence the Anno Domini (Year of Our Lord) calendar used throughout most of the rest of the Christian world.

To get a sense for what the persecution was like, here is Eusebius' eye-witness account from his time in Thebes:

The Flaying of Christian Martyrs

1. It would be impossible to describe the outrages and tortures which the martyrs in Thebais endured. They were scraped over the entire body with shells instead of hooks until they died. Women were bound by one foot and raised aloft in the air by machines, and with their bodies altogether bare and uncovered, presented to all beholders this most shameful, cruel, and inhuman spectacle. 

2. Others being bound to the branches and trunks of trees perished. For they drew the stoutest branches together with machines, and bound the limbs of the martyrs to them; and then, allowing the branches to assume their natural position, they tore asunder instantly the limbs of those for whom they contrived this. 

3. All these things were done, not for a few days or a short time, but for a long series of years. Sometimes more than ten, at other times above twenty were put to death. Again not less than thirty, then about sixty, and yet again a hundred men with young children and women, were slain in one day, being condemned to various and diverse torments. 

4. We, also being on the spot ourselves, have observed large crowds in one day; some suffering decapitation, others torture by fire; so that the murderous sword was blunted, and becoming weak, was broken, and the very executioners grew weary and relieved each other. 

5. And we beheld the most wonderful ardor, and the truly divine energy and zeal of those who believed in the Christ of God. For as soon as sentence was pronounced against the first, one after another rushed to the judgment seat, and confessed themselves Christians. And regarding with indifference the terrible things and the multiform tortures, they declared themselves boldly and undauntedly for the religion of the God of the universe. And they received the final sentence of death with joy and laughter and cheerfulness; so that they sang and offered up hymns and thanksgivings to the God of the universe till their very last breath.

Why do I raise this? Partially, just because it’s important for Christians to know their history. These people died that we may know about, and worship, Jesus Christ. But there are two other reasons as well: to show the Power of the Sign of the Cross, and the Catholicity of the early Church.

The Power of "the Immortal Sign"

Lactantius' testimony is powerful, in showing how Demons tremble before the Cross. And the resultant diabolical persecution of Christians serves as further confirmation of this fact. This is important to remember because today, many Protestants will either (a) condemn the Sign of the Cross, (b) refuse to make it (often, for fear of looking Catholic), or (c) deny that it’s efficacious.

In that third category, GotQuestions? Ministries holds that “the sign of the cross is neither right nor wrong and can be positive if it serves to remind a person of the cross of Christ and/or the trinity.” But he’s careful to note that “The sign of the cross has at certain points been associated with supernatural powers such as repelling evil, demons, etc. This mystical aspect of the sign of the cross is completely false and cannot be supported biblically in any way.”

What’s the basis for this Protestant assertion, by the way? It’s never provided. Nor do any of the Protestants who reject the Sign of the Cross seem to bother supporting the bare assertion that it’s ineffective in spiritual combat. The only informed testimony that we seem to have is from those early Christians who, actually immersed in a pagan and demonic culture, had frequent recourse to the Sign of the Cross, and to great effect.

Paul Delaroche, A Christian Martyr Drowned in the Tiber
During the Reign of Diocletian (1855)

The early Christians, surrounded by paganism, reported that the Sign of the Cross was efficacious. It's a plain historical fact that this Sign rendered the haruspices’ dark arts impotent. Nor is this an isolated example. St. Athanasius (296-373) writes that it was the Sign of the Cross, along with their faith, that empowered the martyrs to scoff at death:

All the disciples of Christ despise death; they take the offensive against it and, instead of fearing it, by the sign of the cross and by faith in Christ trample on it as on something dead. […]If you see with your own eyes men and women and children, even, thus welcoming death for the sake of Christ's religion, how can you be so utterly silly and incredulous and maimed in your mind as not to realize that Christ, to Whom these all bear witness, Himself gives the victory to each, making death completely powerless for those who hold His faith and bear the sign of the cross?

A bit later, he explains that the Sign of the Cross and the Name of Christ puts demons to flight:

These things which we have said are no mere words: they are attested by actual experience. Anyone who likes may see the proof of glory in the virgins of Christ, and in the young men who practice chastity as part of their religion, and in the assurance of immortality in so great and glad a company of martyrs. Anyone, too, may put what we have said to the proof of experience in another way. In the very presence of the fraud of demons and the imposture of the oracles and the wonders of magic, let him use the sign of the cross which they all mock at, and but speak the Name of Christ, and he shall see how through Him demons are routed, oracles cease, and all magic and witchcraft is confounded.

Notice that: Athanasius, unlike the much-later Protestant critics, actually has experience in this field, and knows what he’s talking about.

The Catholicity of the Early Church

Can you imagine modern Protestants sparking a deadly anti-Christian persecution over their devotion to the Sign of the Cross? Me neither. Yet that's exactly what happened in the early Church.

We’ve already seen in the prior point that many (thankfully, not all) Protestants reject the Sign of the Cross, even though it doesn’t seem like there are any rational grounds upon which to reject it. The best explanation for the Protestant aversion is that the Sign of the Cross reflects a very different worldview from their own: namely, the Catholic worldview of the early Church.

So, for example, many Protestants hold to sola Scriptura, the extra-Scriptural doctrine that you can’t have extra-Scriptural doctrines. Calvinists tend to go further, and affirm the so-called regulative principle of worship, which seeks to remove all extra-Scriptural elements from public worship.

To contrast that with the testimony of the early Christians. let’s take a look at Chapter 27 of De Spiritu Sancto, written by St. Basil the Great (329-379). In this work, he explains why extra-Scriptural Traditions, and even ecclesial disciplines, can carry the same binding authority upon Christians as Sacred Scripture.

Christ Surrounded by Angels and Saints (detail) (c. 526)

Basil gives several examples that most Protestants would wince at, including the Sign of the Cross, the various Sacramental formulas, and ad orientam worship. He even goes so far as to suggest that anyone who stripped Christianity of Her extra-Scriptural Traditions would be (unintentionally) gutting the Gospels, reducing the faith to Christianity-in-name-only:

Of the beliefs and practices whether generally accepted or publicly enjoined which are preserved in the Church some we possess derived from written teaching; others we have received delivered to us in a mystery by the tradition of the apostles; and both of these in relation to true religion have the same force. And these no one will gainsay—no one, at all events, who is even moderately versed in the institutions of the Church. 

For were we to attempt to reject such customs as have no written authority, on the ground that the importance they possess is small, we should unintentionally injure the Gospel in its very vitals; or, rather, should make our public definition a mere phrase and nothing more. For instance, to take the first and most general example, who is thence who has taught us in writing to sign with the sign of the cross those who have trusted in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ? What writing has taught us to turn to the East at the prayer? Which of the saints has left us in writing the words of the invocation at the displaying of the bread of the Eucharist and the cup of blessing? 

For we are not, as is well known, content with what the apostle or the Gospel has recorded, but both in preface and conclusion we add other words as being of great importance to the validity of the ministry, and these we derive from unwritten teaching.

That’s the worldview from which we have the Sign of the Cross. Protestantism, in contrast, comes from the Reformers’ attempt to remove Catholics customs that lacked written, Scriptural authority. These worldviews are diametrically opposed.

The Reformation occurs in the context of the Renaissance. The Renaissance sought to move past the Medieval cultural accretions, and recover the glories of Greco-Roman culture. The Reformation sought to do something similar: remove what were (falsely) assumed to be Medieval cultural accretions, and recover the glories of early Christianity. It just so happens that, when we actually familiarize ourselves with the Christians of the early Church, their religion looked nothing like Protestantism.

The Little Flower: An Intercessor for Priests

Pope Francis recently made headlines saying that he had unexpectedly received a white rose which he took as a sign from St. Thérèse of Lisieux of her intercession. This incident reminded me yet again of an often overlooked but important side of the Little Flower: her great love for priests. Here's a small glimpse into that hidden side of her life:

                                                         

St. Thérèse acting as St. Joan of Arc whom she greatly admired.

       At the solemn examination before her Profession, St. Thérèse stated that the reason she came to Carmel was simple: “I have come to save souls and, above all, to pray for priests.” Although she grew up loving to pray for sinners, she was astounded at having to pray for priests because she had thought that “their souls were without blemish.” Thérèse became consumed with a thirst for souls after undergoing her “complete conversion,” but, as she explained, she was not yet concerned with praying for priests: “I was concerned not with the souls of priests but with those of great sinners which I wanted to snatch from the flames of hell.”

Growing up, Thérèse was frequently in the presence of priests, but never was she more extensively exposed to the lives of priests than she was during her pilgrimage to Rome. The Martins traveled with seventy-five priests and through that prolonged exposure to clergy she made the discovery that “some of them were still men, weak and subject to human frailty, even though the sublime dignity of the priesthood raised them above the angels.” After this experience, she said she then understood the main purpose of Carmel: 

What a wonderful vocation we Carmelites have! It us up to us to preserve the salt of the earth. We offer our prayers and penance for God’s apostles and we are their apostles, while, by word and deed, they bring the Gospel to our brethren. But I must stop writing about this, though I could go on writing about it for ever.

        In the silent and hidden life of Carmel, Thérèse labored strenuously as an “apostle of the apostles,” preserving the sanctity of priests at every opportunity she was given and, thus, growing in sanctity herself. This activity perdured in Thérèse even up until the moment of her death, as she offered her last Holy Communion for a priest, Father Hyacinthe Loyson, who had fallen away from the Church and caused great scandal at the time. Thérèse said that the great aim of her life was to “pray for all the intentions of Christ’s vicar,” saying, “my brothers toil instead of me and I, a little child, well, I keep close by the throne of God and I love for those who fight.” Although she had a great affection for missionary priests, her prayers and sacrifices were for all priests, including those of diocesan priests: 

I pray for everyone and do not forget ordinary priests whose ministry is sometimes just as difficult as that of missionaries preaching to the heathen. Like our Mother, Saint Teresa, I want to be “a daughter of the Church” and pray for all the intentions of Christ’s Vicar. It is a great aim of my life.

Thérèse had worked as a sacristan in Carmel for a short period of time and found great joy in being able to handle the sacred vessels of the altar for the Blessed Sacrament. She said she used to spend time staring at her reflection in the bottom of the chalice because, as she said, her features were “reflected in the place where the Blood of Jesus rested and where it will descend again.”

On one particular occasion, she saw in a letter from a seminarian that her prayers and sacrifices were working. “Oh, what consolation this letter brought to me,” she said. “I saw that my sufferings were bearing fruit. Did you notice the sentiments of humility the letter expresses? It’s exactly what I wanted.” Thérèse joyously spent her time in Carmel dedicated to praying for priests and scattering the little flowers of her sacrifices on the divine throne for them as they labored in the vineyard.

                                                         

           In Thérèse’s short life, priests had enlightened her soul with their homilies, freed her from guilt in the confessional, offered her spiritual nourishment through their writings, and even launched her full sail on the tide of confidence and love. For Thérèse, the priest was essentially a man of the sacraments. As she prepared for her first confession, she recalled in her writings how she had asked her sister with childlike profoundness if she should tell the parish priest, Father Ducellier, that she loved him with all her heart since it was God she was going to speak to in his person. She did not end up telling Father Ducellier that she loved him, but she did leave the confessional extremely happy and desired to return on every major feast day, since going to confession was a real feast for her. Priests were very much at the center of Thérèse’s heart of love, even if they were at times more like painful thorns than loving fathers.

          Thérèse especially viewed the priest as a man of the Eucharist. An expression of this and her great love for the Eucharist was her unique desire to be, among many other things, a priest: “If only I were a priest! How lovingly, Jesus, would I hold you in my hands when my words had brought You down from heaven and how lovingly would I give you to the faithful.” She did not express any doubt in the Church’s teaching on the priesthood (although some would like to think so), but rather recognized the profound dignity given to priests at being able to call Jesus down from heaven with a few simple words and then hold Him in their hands. Thérèse longed to be a priest because she simply longed to hold Jesus lovingly in her hands and then joyfully give Him out to the faithful like a priest. This was a simple manifestation of her vocation to love Jesus and make Him loved. Knowing that she would never be a priest, she found in Saint Francis of Assisi, who remained a deacon out of humility before the priesthood, the model she desired to emulate.

                                                         

Maurice Bellière

One additional desire that Thérèse had which she greatly cherished was one which she had thought could never be fulfilled: that of having a brother priest who would remember her at the altar every day. Her two brothers had died in infancy, but God would nevertheless fulfill her desire in Carmel by sending her not one but two men whom she could call brother priests.

        The first brother she received was Maurice Bellière, a seminarian hoping to be a missionary. The unexpected fulfillment of her desire awoke in Thérèse a childlike joy. “For years,” she said, “I had never experienced this sort of happiness. I felt as if my soul had been reborn and as if some of its neglected strings had been touched.” Maurice became one of Thérèse’s first readers, and the ten letters she wrote to him are among the longest she wrote to anyone and account for sixty percent of the letters she wrote in the last four months of her life. In these treasured writings, written at the height of her spiritual life on earth, Thérèse encouraged Maurice in his struggles while at the same time giving him a whole course on her Little Way. Maurice cherished every word she wrote and found great spiritual nourishment in them saying, “The breeze that blows from the Carmel to refresh my feverish and tired head makes me a better person by renewing my fervor.”

         The last letter Thérèse wrote was to Maurice, and as a testament to her great love for him, she left him her most cherished possession: her crucifix. Shortly after beginning her correspondences with Maurice, Thérèse received her second brother, a missionary named Father Adolph Roulland, to whom she also wrote but never developed the same deep personal relationship that she had with Maurice.

  Maurice Bellière and Adolph Roulland were very close to Thérèse’s heart during her final months and days. She told her sister that when she prayed for them she did not offer her sufferings. Instead, she prayed, “My God, give them everything I desire for myself.” With these two men, Thérèse’s universal mission in the Church to help priests began and a small glimpse was given of the extraordinary work for priests that she would do upon her entry into heaven.

St. Thérèse shortly before her death.

         As Thérèse grew deeper in love with Jesus Christ during her excruciating period of suffering at the end of her life, she expressed in various ways her desire to make her Spouse more loved. In two particular moments, she communicated to her sisters what she would have done had she been a priest. On one occasion, she said, “Had I been a priest, I would have learned Hebrew and Greek, and wouldn’t have been satisfied with Latin. In this way, I would have known the real text dictated by the Holy Spirit.”
         On a second occasion, from her own fervent love for Mary, she said: “How I would have loved to be a priest in order to preach about the Blessed Virgin! One sermon would be sufficient to say everything I think about this subject.” The sermons she had heard on Mary had not touched her, saying that priests were not explaining to the people how they could imitate her: “She prefers imitation to admiration, and her life was so simple!”
          Taken out of context, these texts could be construed to portray Thérèse as somehow expressing a disagreement with the Church’s teaching on the priesthood, but in the context of her great love and respect for the priesthood, she is simply here implicitly exhorting priests, as a part of their munus docendi, to teach the people the depths of love found in Sacred Scripture and in the Blessed Virgin Mary. They were for her of invaluable spiritual strength, and she wanted priests to use their munus docendi to share these tremendous fonts of spiritual strength with their flocks.