Wednesday, February 26, 2020
Saturday, February 22, 2020
Inconveniently difficult truth
The article below was written as a response to an essay in First Things. I submitted it to that magazine, but they chose not to run it. And so I post it here.
I would like to apologise for the extreme infrequency of my contributions. For various reasons, including attaining a Masters degree by research, I have withdrawn from the 'blog for a long time. Also, since one of the main original purposes of this site was to bring Continuers closer together, the sacramental reunion of the G4 has made my participation less urgent, as my theological priorities are strongly ecumenical. Nonetheless, I hope this article is useful to our readers.
On another matter, I would like to commend the video address "False Choices" by Fr Hart, linked from a previous post. I have just watched it and urge you all to do the same if you have not already seen it. God bless.
In her recent article, “A
paper church”, Julia Yost decries Pope
Francis' leadership for forcing orthodox Catholics to engage in an
elitist hermeneutics that explains away rather than explaining his
statements. While St John Paul's catechetical adventures on the topic
of capital punishment also come in for criticism, the rot that has
purportedly set in is seen to have done so only “[i]n recent
decades”. One might summarise her article as the heartfelt cry, “We
can't become like those awful Anglicans!”
Too late, Julia, too late. In the need to interpret some teachings in
minimalist fashion, or with heavy qualifications, or as temporary
mistakes, or as conditioned by circumstances, Roman Catholics have
long anticipated Anglo-Catholics.
Now, to be fair, I do have sympathy for her argument that the
Catholic Faith should not be reduced to a “paper religion”, which
would imply that the real, authoritative teachings are an esoteric,
subtle refinement of official statements that are misleading if taken
at their surface-meaning. And I fully accept that Pope Francis'
“magisterial” musings and symbolical actions are sometimes, to
put it gently, unnecessarily confusing.
However, despite these sympathies, and my firm belief that the
average Christian does understand the essentials of the Faith to a
sufficient degree not to be “superficial” in their confession, we
all need to face reality. And the reality is that, not only among the
hoi polloi but among their teachers in the Church, there have
often been grave errors, misinterpretations, and unbalanced emphases,
including some related to official teaching, partly because its
wording can lend itself to misunderstanding on occasion. To put it
another way, while God protects the church from outright error in
dogma, he does not protect it from all the other foibles related to
human documents and interpretation.
Indeed, this problem has become only more obvious since Vatican II
among Roman Catholics (RCs), whether for traditionalists who heavily
criticise the Council, “conservatives” who affirm it via the
“hermeneutic of continuity”, or “liberals” who embrace the
purported “spirit of Vatican II” and see the documents themselves
as open-ended pointers to a trajectory of revolution. However, the
problem for RCs clearly predates this Council, as I will show later.
But let us first deal with the more recent examples.
The original article exhibits the belief that subtle, esoteric
re-interpretations of past Church teaching were not the Roman way
until Pope Francis, or, to a lesser extent, Pope John Paul II. But
this is clearly contrary to fact. Ever since Vatican II, any attempt
at a “hermeneutic of continuity” has required very subtle
distinctions and re-interpretations indeed.
For some of the most popular examples of these apparent(?)
discontinuities, the teachings on torture, slavery, usury and capital
punishment, I leave the reader to other authors' discussions.
Instead, let us just consider ecumenical dialogue, joint prayer with
non-RCs, and the possibility of salvation outside the Communion of
Rome.
For Pope Pius IX (in Mortalium
Animos), the efforts of Protestants to “treat
with the Roman church ...
upon the basis of equality of rights and as equals” is something
that Catholics “cannot in any way adhere to or grant aid to”. He
also taught that: "… one who supports those who hold these
theories and attempt to realise them, is altogether abandoning the
divinely revealed religion." Whereas Vatican II’s Unitatis
Redintegratio
describes as “[m]ost valuable” “meetings of the two sides …
where each can treat with the other on an equal footing”.
An
instruction addressed to the Catholics of England by Cardinal Allen
in a letter of 1592 said that praying with Protestants was “forbidden
by God’s own eternal law” and “by no means lawful or
dispensable”, a judgement he noted was confirmed to him by Pope
Clement VIII. On the other hand, the same document of Vatican II
mentioned above says that such prayer is “desirable”.
From
the Council of Florence we have this: "The most Holy Roman
Church firmly believes, professes and preaches that none of those
existing outside the Catholic Church ... can have a share in life
eternal; but that they will go into the eternal fire which was
prepared for the Devil and his angels, unless before death they are
joined with her". At Vatican II the “separated churches” are
“means of salvation”.
I will leave it to RCs to
argue about whether each of these apparent discontinuities can be
salvaged from contradiction by clever exegesis, or whether the
resolution lies in simply admitting that the either the earlier or
the later statements must be abandoned as non-infallible statements
that also happened to be simply wrong. In either case, what is
required of anyone arguing in good faith is frank admission both that
there is apparent contradiction and that the only way out is via
subtle distinctions regarding meaning or authority that will seem
esoteric and surprising to ordinary folk.
But this problem did not start
with Vatican II. Unam
Sanctum (US)
is a papal bull considered by many RCs to be infallible in its
concluding definition: “Furthermore,
we declare, we proclaim, we define that it is absolutely necessary
for salvation that every human creature be subject to the Roman
Pontiff.” Note the word “absolutely”. Quite apart from
inconsistency with statements of Vatican II, this definition suffers
from a syllogistic reductio
ad absurdum,
if taken at face value. The first premise below derives clearly from
the common man's understanding of subjection to the chief religious
teacher, the second is a logical corollary of the definition of US.
1.
To disobey the Pope's commands or contradict his teachings is not to
be subject to him.
2.
One can not ever, under any circumstances, be saved (in a state of
grace) if one is not subject to the Pope.
3.
Thus, to disobey the Pope's commands or dispute his teachings in any
way is to be unsaved, ungraced, i.e., outside Christ and his Church,
and thus is always objectively evil.
But both before and after
Vatican I, let alone Vatican II, RC theologians have consistently
taught that there can be occasions when disobeying papal commands or
contradicting (or withholding assent to) a papal teaching can be
permissible and, in fact, virtuous. Among the clergy and theologians
of old we have Lapide, Pope Pius IX, Pope Adrian II, Pope Paul IV1,
Cano, Prieras, Cajetan, de Victoria, Suarez, and Bellarmine, et al.
But in more recent times we have Bishop
Christopher Butler
and the Pope
Emeritus
himself, among many others.
So, it appears that subjection
to the Pope is considered only conditionally or relatively necessary
to salvation in terms of informed, long-standing RC theology, but
that US
says it is absolutely necessary. “Absolutely” and “relatively”
are contradictory by definition. Now, wooden literalism is hardly
ever wise but an “interpretation” that takes a word to mean its
exact opposite is, at the very least, subtle and esoteric. I suspect
ordinary RCs may have always had trouble squaring that circle, if it
had been brought to their attention. It is perhaps fortunate that for
much of the Middle Ages such interacting decrees and ideas probably
remained an irrelevant “paper religion” to the average pious
peasant.2
In all of these cases one
might of course appeal to the “development” Newman so relied upon
to defend Roman Catholicism. But at some point one risks justly
receiving that famous reply from the classic comedy, The
Princess Bride:
“You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think
it means.”
Can there be a disconnect
between educated believers and the rest in areas of ecclesial life
outside explicit doctrine as well? Interestingly, Ms Yost doesn't
actually deny the existence of superstitions among ordinary RCs.
Instead, she accepts their reality and, surprisingly, says only
positive things about them. But not all popular superstitions are to
be winked at. Idolatry and obsession with material relics is
spiritually degrading and enervating, as it takes the Christian's
focus away from the true centre of his faith, the living Christ. That
this was once a real problem for RCs needs no confirmation from
Protestant authors, the evidence being easily found in Erasmus and
Colet, for example.
But
it was not just a case of popular abuses. Aquinas (S.T. P3, Q25,
A3&4), in teaching that earned the imprimatur
and nihil
obstat,
said that the worship of latreia
was due to images of Christ and the Cross. But the Seventh Ecumenical
Council says that only the honour of proskunesis
is permissible to any image, including the Cross. Whatever gloss is
put on the former kind of statement by apologists, it is undeniable
that the effect on the common believer of such justification
filtering down was deeply problematic. That the official dogma of the
RCC is and was orthodox I do not deny. That the everyday religion of
its members always matched this dogma during the late Middle Ages I
do deny. The disconnect was real, and the doctrinal truth in this
matter often remained a paper religion to the masses.
What is my point then? That
the Catholic Faith has always been expressed in a way that must seem
Pickwickian to ordinary Christians? That many magisterial acts and
words can not be taken at face value or may even need to be rejected?
That all doctrines are justifiably up for grabs due to past
inconsistencies? No, yes and no.
The Creeds are genuinely understandable affirmations, though even
here there are unavoidable metaphors and mysteries.3
And beyond the Creeds, there is much firm, consistent and clear
teaching that is entitled to our deepest trust and certitude.
Nevertheless, some teaching
that carries the label of infallibility for RCs will need to be
accorded assent with qualifications that, while able to be exegeted
as non-contradictory, show that the dogma as originally written was
undeniably prone to misunderstanding. Teachings that were highly
authoritative but not infallibly proposed nor universally consistent
from earliest times may simply have to be admitted to be errors.
This will require a dogmatic
theology that appears too critical or even minimalist to some. The
fear that such admissions will give too much room to those who wish
to conform the Church to the world, the flesh and the devil is
perfectly understandable. After all, isn’t one of the favourite
arguments of some “liberals” that none of the teachings on sexual
morality they dislike has been or can be definitively taught?4
But the truth is that the best defence against such infidelity
within will not come from unreflective approaches to dogmatic texts
any more than it will come from unrestrained ultramontanism.
Unfortunately, “liberal” criticisms of the “creeping
infallibilism” coming from Rome have, even from a traditionalist
viewpoint, validity.5
This creep not only undercuts present orthodox resistance to error,
it has often been sending the Vatican in precisely the wrong
direction for decades in response to the heterodox. To put it another
way, this is a defensiveness that has now left the faithful
defenceless.6
Where is safety to be found
then, whether for the scholar or for the “vulgar”? Not in papal
absolutism, not in a “magisterium of the moment”, not in textual
rigidity or mere institutional loyalty. These facts have become
increasingly clear but, taken as a whole, they will perhaps not
please either the conservative or traditionalist RC. On what basis
can they resist the genuine compromisers of the Faith, as opposed to
faithful if speculative theology that challenges?
St John Paul showed the way
forward in one of his most important and symbolical actions. In the
Apostolic Letter Ordinatio
Sacerdotalis he
definitively ruled against the priestly ordination of women not by an
act of the Extraordinary Magisterium, but by pointing to the
“constant
and universal Tradition of the Church”,
as has been noted by Cardinal
Ladaria on behalf of the CDF.
The broad, living stream of
the Tradition, with its mutually interpreting currents and eddies
across time and space is where all must look. The whole Church needs
the whole Church, including the breadth of its history. Where the
consensus is universal and clear, those rejecting it from within the
Church need not be argued with nor need they be subject to new
canonical or doctrinal statements, as if everything was uncertain
till such “clarifications”. No, instead, the Church should simply
have the courage to say “You have undeniably rejected the Faith,
you have cut yourself off from the Church. The verdict is manifest,
your attempts to obscure certainty have failed. Goodbye.”
And such a process would in
fact be aided by appeal to the constant and continued teaching of the
Eastern Orthodox and others. An ecumenical Catholicism that
recognises, not just in subtextual actions7
but in official teaching, that those outside canonical boundaries
may have been put there unjustly, such that they never really exited
the Una Sancta
spiritually, is a Catholicism that can accept a genuine scope for
varied opinions in non-essentials, access resources deep and wide,
correct internal errors and fight the good fight.8
So, as we have noted above,
instead of issuing new decrees or looking for such, Rome and RCs
could simply appeal to universal consensus, East and West, to prove
that all who wish to overturn traditional moral teaching are
manifestly heretical and self-excommunicate, and withdraw all
communion from them without further ado. The same approach could be
applied to those who push for the ordination of priestesses, and
hence clarify that ecumenical Catholicism reveals the pointlessness
of Rome or the Orthodox continuing their discussions with the
Anglican Communion and the need to concentrate instead on the
faithful remnant that is Continuing Anglicanism.
But benefits would also accrue
in terms of dealing with the past. A Roman Church burdened with the
history of a previous centuries-long magisterial consensus on the
moral soundness of ‘coercion and torture for Jesus’ could then,
for example, contentedly note the fact that the Eastern Orthodox part
of the Church did not create an apologetics or doctrinal position to
justify such acts as the Latin Church did, thus defeating the
appearance of universality, even temporarily.
It could also recognise that
the Anglican rejection of any suggestion that the Sacrifice of Christ
was plural or repeated was a justifiable reaction to certain theories
of the Mass that hypothesised a new, distinct immolation of Christ in
the Eucharist, while noting that such theories have died away and
that Rome also stresses that there is only one
redemptive Sacrifice. As it is, Julia Yost’s article shows no
appreciation of this historical context, and no understanding of the
other evidence in the earliest Anglican formularies that gave not
just Newman but many others legitimate reason to interpret Anglican
teaching as supporting Eucharistic Sacrifice. Other of the Thirty
Nine Articles, the Book of Common Prayer and official apologetical
texts from the Elizabethan period taken together affirm that the
Eucharist sacramentally signifies the Sacrifice of the Cross and
conveys its effects, which is exactly what is sufficient to make it a
sacrifice, according to Aquinas.9
In any case, there is no
getting around the fact that ecclesial teaching, whether Anglican,
Eastern or Roman will sometimes contain statements that, while they
can be parsed in conformity with truth or relativised as to
authority, are problematic and leave plenty of room for doubt and
misunderstanding. Admitting this rather than circling the wagons or
throwing stones in glass houses is surely the best option. Theology
can be difficult, including dogmatic theology. Just accept it.
1
See
his Bull, Cum
ex Apostolatus Officio,
which teaches that a Pope who has deviated from the Faith can be
contradicted.“In
assessing Our duty and the situation now prevailing, We have been
weighed upon by the thought that a matter of this kind is so grave
and so dangerous [to the Faith] that the Roman Pontiff, who is the
representative upon earth of God and our God and Lord Jesus Christ,
who holds the fullness of power over peoples and kingdoms, who may
judge all and be judged by none in this world, may
nonetheless be contradicted if he be found to have deviated from the
Faith.”
2 In
case the reader thinks that a literal interpretation was never taken
seriously by anyone, or that nothing else in the magisterial
tradition could support such papal positivism to the ordinary
follower, I give just two of many possible examples which would
manifestly support such absolutism:
“[W]here
there is holiness there cannot be disagreement with the Pope”
[Address
to the Priests of the Apostolic Union, Nov. 18, 1912, Pope Pius X]
“Thus,
it is an absolute necessity for the simple faithful to submit in
mind and heart to their own pastors, and for the latter to submit
with them to the Head and Supreme Pastor.”
[Epistola Tua, Pope Leo XIII]
3
Obviously, for example,
“light from light” does not refer to photons, “ascended into
heaven” could be misunderstood as a long astronomical journey, and
what “everlasting life” means in detail is confessedly unknown
(1 John 3:2).
4 E.g.:
“There is virtual theological unanimity that concrete moral norms
do not pertain to the church’s infallible teaching competence.”
R.A. McCormick, S.J., in Readings in Moral Theology No.6: Dissent
in the Church, Curran &
McCormick (eds), p.426, 1988.
5 Giving
the liberal Romans their due is a necessary part of honestly dealing
with the crisis. Unless the real problems that existed before
Vatican II in the RCC are admitted – against which RCs
understandably reacted and for the purpose of dealing with the
Second Vatican Council was called – those who wish to throw out
the baby with the bathwater will succeed in portraying the orthodox
to the ordinary faithful as dishonest or spiritually blind.
It shouldn’t be a a great strain,
for example, for any RC to accept that the official papal
condemnation of the statement that “[i]t
is contrary to the will of the Spirit that heretics be burned”
in Exsurge domine was an objectively evil act that undermined
the RCC’s moral credibility. Or that Pope Pius IX forcing the
Melkite Patriarch to place his head under his foot in retaliation
for qualifying his acceptance of Vatican I was the very kind of
leadership against which Christ warned (cf.
Matthew 20:25f, 2 Corinthians 1:24). Likewise, it shouldn’t
be difficult for the orthodox to admit that sometimes the critics
have helped the Church to correct itself.
Admitting old errors or misplaced
emphases, along with an overarching weakness for authoritarianism,
will allow the orthodox to be taken seriously. Otherwise, in the
face of an idealisation of the Latin Church’s past, merely quoting
or citing the more egregious examples will be enough to discredit
Catholicism itself for an honest enquirer. Also, unless the reasons
for modern over-reaction are understood, the orthodox will not be
able to communicate effectively to persuadable liberals: those who
are perhaps not critical enough of innovation, but are not
revolutionary in spirit or intent either.
6 While
the CDF in its Instructions on the Ecclesial Vocation of the
Theologian did try to carve out a space for dissent by
theologians from non-infallible teaching, it was a non-public,
minimal space that appeared to have nothing to do with ordinary
Catholics. If this is not an elitist approach to hermeneutics, what
is? One cannot help but ask the question, if a mediaeval theologian
or ordinary RC had vociferously objected to Inquisitorial torture as
plainly wicked and anti-Christian, would they have sinned according
to these standards?
7 E.g.,
recognitions by Rome of Saints who were outside the communion of
Rome, such as St Meletius of Antioch, St Isaac the Syrian and St
Gregory of Narek.
8 Some
will respond angrily to such suggestions with the cry “extra
ecclesiam nulla salus!” or start scoffing at the manifest
absurdity of Anglican “Branch Theory”. I have dealt with these
objections here.
Basically, to believe that the Church must be both one and visible
does not require belief that its integral unity is perfectly
visible. Especially since it almost never is.
9 Knowledge
of the historical and theological context reveals that the
significance of the plural terms in Article XXXI relates to an
aversion to any concept of repeated or supplementary
sacrifice, an aversion clearly referred to in the same article where
it says “there is none other satisfaction for sin” than
the Sacrifice of the Cross. The same point is specifically
reiterated in Anglican Canon Law in the next century where there is
an affirmation of the term “altar” for the “Lord's Table”
but a denial Christ is “again really sacrificed” (cf.
Hebrews 6:6, 10:10), which Rome was thought to teach. Also, the very
same Articles affirm that the Eucharist is a sacrament of
Christians' redemption by the Cross (XXVIII), while defining a
sacrament as an “effectual sign” in a previous Article (XXV), a
theological term of art meaning that it effects what it signifies.
So, the Articles on their own teach that the Eucharist signifies
Christ's sacrifice and conveys its effects. The authorised apologist
for the Church of England at the English Reformation, Bishop Jewell,
also accepted openly in those apologetics that the Sacrament was an
“image” of the One Sacrifice. This combination of sacramental
signification and conveyance of the sacrifice in its effects is, as
noted above, exactly what Aquinas says makes it a sacrifice (S.T.
P3, Q83, A1).
Similarly, the service is termed a
“sacrifice of praise” in the classical Anglican liturgy (a
phrase taken straight from the Gregorian Canon) in the same sentence
in which intercession is made for “the remission of sins and all
other benefits” of Christ's Passion for the “whole Church”.
So, Newman was perfectly justified in interpreting the Anglican
formularies as teaching a doctrine of Eucharistic Sacrifice, albeit
one rejecting any repetition of the Cross, any renewal of Christ's
actual suffering and death. More to the point, this was not some
weird innovation of his, but a reflection of the explicit teaching
on the Eucharist of many Anglican bishops and theologians before
him, as one discovers in Tract 81. That he later renounced this
eirenic approach does not change the facts outlined above.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)