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Preface

I originally hesitated to write this post because the subject of the post is so sensitive and the one to whom I am responding in this post is a man I love and cherish very much, my father-in-law, Rev. Steve Schlissel from New York. If he does decide to read this, he should know that this post is written by somebody who not only loves him dearly, but admires him and looks up to him for many of his character traits. So whilst nothing is intended to be given or taken personally, it is inevitable that some may see it this way. Nevertheless, I write this with a spirit of charity and not hostility. I do disagree with him vehemently, but that should say nothing of my opinion of him personally.

Benedicta tu in mulieribus et benedictus fructus ventri tui, Jesus

In a recent post on his blog, Rev. Schlissel writes at length about the Roman Catholic “idolatry” of Mary. He asserts that if Mary were to be included in the Godhead – a “Quadrinity” he calls it – that nothing in all of Roman Catholic faith or practise would change. Either he is grossly ignorant of the actual practise of the Church, or this is simply inflated rhetoric. I cannot imagine him to be so ignorant of Catholic worship on this matter, so I will assume that it is just rhetoric. And as a rhetorical device, it conveys that he thinks that we honour Mary too much, and that is understandable from his perspective, but for those who actually are ignorant of Catholic practise, there are some things they ought to know.

The Mass, which is the highest form of worship for Catholic Christians, has only one object: the Holy Trinity. In the Novus Ordo Missæ, Mary is mentioned only twice: in the Confiteor (along with a list of other saints and apostles) and in the Nicene Creed. Surely nobody could object to those things. Even in the Traditional Latin Mass, Mary is mentioned only six times, once in the Nicene Creed, and all other five times she is listed with groups of other saints. She is absent from the Roman Canon, absent from any invocation of the Holy Trinity, and absent from the Eucharistic liturgy altogether.

So to say that nothing would change if she were part of the “Quadrinity” is utter nonsense. It would change so much of the Catholic practise that I cannot even imagine where to start. Even the Rosary would have to change since no longer would we be asking for Mary’s intercessions, but rather praying the “Our Mother”.

His claim is that Catholics worship Mary, and in a sense this is absolutely correct. There is a sense in which it is not correct, but that does not take away from the fact that there is a sense in which it is. The word worship means simply to render to that which is worthy. King David was worshipped by one of his subjects in this passage from the Bible:

And going out he worshipped the king, bowing with his face to the earth, and said: Wherefore is my lord the king come to his servant? And David said to him: To buy the thrashing floor of thee, and build an altar to the Lord, that the plague, which rageth among the people, may cease. (II Kings XXIV:xxi)

Are we to understand that this man idolised David or merely that he rendered the honour which was due to him? Clearly the latter is the case. The virtuous woman is to be praised (Proverbs XXXI:xxx), and what woman on earth possessed as much virtue as the Mother of God? Is it not fitting then, to worship her the same way that Gabriel did when he saw her and called her blessed amongst women?

Something here ought to be said about the Protestant’s understanding of worship. A Protestant accuses a Catholic of idolatry because we honour Mary in the same way that they honour God. Why is this? It is because for the Protestant, his highest form of worship involves sitting on his posterior for two hours whilst a man takes centre stage, and talks about his views of the Bible for seventy-five minutes, followed by a song or two and maybe the passing of a collection plate. And that is it. The Protestant will have no problem telling you that he has no altar, no sacrifice, no incense, no nothing. Just a long time of listening to a man in a business suit talk about his opinions. And that is their highest form of worship.

Since we might honour Mary with things slightly more glorious and substantially less boring than that, we are accused of idolatry. But the Mass, the highest form of Catholic worship, is reserved for God alone, and for nobody else. And it is a sacrifice on an altar to the Most High God – if anyone dared to do this for Mary, he would be rightly accused of idolatry. But has any Catholic ever done this? Ever? Not to my knowledge. Based on the anecdote provided, I see no idolatry, only devotion and love.

Take a moment and look at a common way of honouring men in our culture. Suppose a man serves for fifty years as a distinguished professor at a prestigious academic institution, and upon his retirement, his fellows throw a grand ball in his honour. One might imagine a time of socialisation in the main hall, followed by the singing of the Alma Mater, a few short speeches by his closest colleagues, a long keynote address, a time for a collection to his charitable foundation, and ending with a round of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow”. And all of this would be entirely appropriate for a man of great accomplishments. And it differs little – if it indeed differs at all – from the Protestant concept of worship.

So Rev. Schlissel has been to a May Crowning. What sacrifice was given to Mary? None at all. Was she blessed and praised for her virtue? I should hope so, as that would be a fulfillment of biblical prophecy. Yet, notice the flurry of criticism even when she is honoured as the Bible says that she should be honoured. From whence does this irrational hatred of our Mother come?

So whilst he is shaking his head wondering where we Romanists get off honouring the Blessed Mother, we shake our own heads at the myriad displays of ahistorical belief and practise within the Protestant sects.

Finally, regarding the Salve Regina, one of his commentators said that the prayer was Christocentric. To which he replied, “However, the veracity of your own claim about the Christocentric nature of the Salve Regina is doubted. In support, I will simply include the English translation in which Christ is incidental and at best an indirect object.”

Hail, holy Queen, Mother of Mercy,

our life, our sweetness and our hope.

To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve;

to thee do we send up our sighs,

mourning and weeping in this valley of tears.

Turn then, most gracious advocate,

thine eyes of mercy toward us;

and after this our exile,

show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus.

O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary.

V: Pray for us O holy Mother of God,

R: that we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.

Actually, the indirect object of the central petition of the Salve Regina is the faithful, whilst the direct object is Christ: “[Mary, subject] Show unto us [the faithful, indirect object] the blessed fruit of thy womb Jesus [direct object].” The prayer is highly Christocentric. The entire purpose for Marian devotion is summed up beautifully in this wonderful hymn: we follow Mary so that we may be led to Christ, just as St. Paul said to the church in Corinth: “Be ye followers of me, as I also am of Christ.” He followed Christ, and he hoped that others would follow Him to reach the same goal. Is it such a stretch to see that our Blessed Mother, like all mothers, functions to lead her children to Jesus?

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Preface

After a long and somewhat fruitful Lenten season (and now more than half-way into Paschaltide), I feel that I am now able to return to some serious writing here. Some of you have expressed interest that I continue writing, whilst I have – on many occasions – considered closing down this place. I think that in the long run, I will keep it going, though I cannot say how often I will post something. In the post below, I am mostly speaking to Catholics, since they, of all Christians, oftentimes  give me the hardest time about certain issues. But I also have some Protestants in mind who may, because of the perspectives of these Catholics, be confused about what is required of a Catholic.

Omnia ergo quæcumque dixerint vobis servate et facite secundum opera vero eorum nolite facere dicunt enim et non faciunt

Part of being a Catholic is communion with the Bishop of Rome. Part of being a Catholic is believing that he is infallible when he addresses the whole Church on matters of faith and morals. Part of being a Catholic, or at least being a good Catholic, is rendering obedience to the Pope and to the bishops of your diocese. And part of being Catholic is respecting the offices of those ecclesiastical officials of the hierarchy, even if we do not have much respect for those people holding them.

These concepts have long been part of the Catholic understanding of the Church. In the fourth century – in a time probably not unlike our current situation – there were those who saw the rampant impiety on the part of the members of the Catholic Church. They wanted a purer Church – a Church that followed through in real life what they believed on paper. In short, they wanted a Church without sinners. These people were called Donatists, and they believed that a priest’s Sacraments were only as good as his personal piety.

Now I have no doubt that the Donatists were mostly very pious people. I have no doubt that their intentions for the Church were very noble. But by confusing the offices with the officers, they made a grave error and left the Church because of their obstinacy in refusing to recognise this error. The fatal error of the Donatists was that the true author of the Sacraments is not the priest or the bishop, but Christ Himself. The priest is only the intermediate vessel of God’s grace. Sacraments are valid based on the office of the priest which, being established by Christ, is holy and sacred. Those holding the office have the power and authority to confect Sacraments in the name of Christ regardless of whether or not they are pious men.

In no way am I justifying the impiety of certain priests or bishops. But if my child were to receive a baptism from a sodomite priest, it would be a valid baptism. If my children were to be confirmed by a simoniac bishop, it would still be a valid confirmation. And if I received viaticum and final absolution from a liberal priest who believed in women’s ordination and abortion, it would be valid, assuming that his orders were valid.

Many have noted recently that I am highly critical of many members of the hierarchy of the Holy Roman Church. Indeed I am and I am not ashamed of it. Some wonder how I can truly consider myself to be a Catholic and still be so critical of my local ordinary bishop, the priests in my diocese, the American cardinals, and the Pope himself. The short answer to all of this is that nothing in Catholic teaching demands that Catholics approve of the actions of the hierarchy in order to be good Catholics.

You might expect that those who pester me the most about this are Protestants, but actually it is Catholics. I hear very frequently that I am guilty of misinterpreting the actions of the Pope, or not extending charity to the bishops, or misjudging their intentions. And these might all be true. I do not think they are, but I am certainly willing to grant that they might be. I am certainly not above making these errors. But Catholics – of all people – ought to know better. I cannot tell you how many times I have heard the phrase “more Catholic than the Pope” directed toward people who would dare to criticise anything the Pope ever did.

One prime example is how three of the last four Popes have had amazing penchants for praying with people of false religions in pagan temples, praying with anti-Christs in synagogues, celebrating pagan ceremonies, and engaging in idolatrous acts of animal worship with priestesses. All of these things are forbidden, immoral, and scandalous. And they ought be even more severely condemned if of all people the Pope is the one doing them. The Second Vatican Council did not suddenly authorise people to go into places of worship belonging to false religions. And just because the Pope did it does not make it right.

It is at this point that I hear somebody throw out the aforementioned phrase, accusing me of thinking that I am more Catholic than the Pope, or that I am misunderstanding his œcumenical gestures.

What possessed people to start unquestioningly accepting everything the Pope does as moral? I am not familiar with any part of Catholic tradition that includes this bizarre precept. How is it that so many people have forgotten about all the examples in the Sacred Scriptures and in history of saints rebuking Popes (to the face, even) and being recognised later on by the Church as great saints and warriors for Christ? Did not St. Paul rebuke the very first Pope because of his sin? Are we not thankful to St. Irenæus for respectfully telling Pope St. Victor to refrain from excommunicating the eastern sees? Is not St. Catherine of Sienna venerated for her unwavering stand against a Pope who refused to leave Avignon?

I shudder to think of what Catholics who practically worship the current Pope would have been like at the time surrounding the Protestant Reformation. As soon as news hit the press that Alexander VI had multiple illegitimate children with several women, these people would be the first to celebrate the “œcumenical gestures” that he was giving to these women. Perhaps they would look down on people who chose to be faithful to their wives, or priests who kept their vows of celibacy and would have accused them of being “more Catholic than the Pope.” Who knows?

If it is a mortal sin for Catholics to pray with people of false religions, then it is a sin for a Pope to do it. Indeed, it is even a greater sin for a Pope to do it because of the office he holds. And if I refrain from praying with people of false religions, then that does, in a sense, make me more Catholic than the Pope. If the Pope sits by idly whilst entire dioceses are bankrupted and entire parishes are being closed because of lawsuits against the sodomites in the priesthood, and there is a priest who is fighting for justice to be brought to these predators, then that priest is more Catholic than the Pope. If the General Instruction for the Roman Missal forbids liturgical dancing in all forms as inappropriate for the sanctity of the Mass, and a priest refuses to allow such abominations in his sanctuary, then he is being more Catholic than the Pope. If a bishop refuses to give communion to scoundrels like Rudy Giuliani and John Kerry because of their immoral marital lives and their public support of infanticide, then that bishop is being more Catholic than the Pope.

And is that such a bad thing?

At Assisi, John Paul II of blessed memory committed grave acts of idolatry, worshipped false gods, and profaned holy places by allowing members of false religions to worship there. I care not who you are or what your intentions are. That is immoral, illicit, and contrary to everything in Catholic teaching. John Paul II was guilty of grave sins when he allowed this to happen. This does not make me un-Catholic to make these observations, nor does it mean that John Paul II was not Pope. He certainly was; he just happened to be a very scandalous Pope. This does not mean that I do not recognise the very real authority the Pope has. I do not deny the infallibility of the Church or the Pope by making these observations. I am very quick to point out the most famous infallible decree that Pope John Paul II gave, that women cannot be priests, which was given in response to the recent decision of the Anglican sect to lay their unholy hands on the heads of short-haired women and call them priests. I am thankful for the dogmatic decree that John Paul II gave us. But make no mistake – that man was guilty of grave sins and merely to look them over as if they were unimportant or inconsequential is a grave error and is a disservice to the Church at large. He led many people astray with his actions and to this day we have seen the evil done by those bishops wanting to practise this false œcumenism by engaging in the rituals of pagan religions.

Pope Benedict as well is guilty of such things. Even since becoming Pope, twice he has been to pray with anti-Christs in synagogues in order to placate them and submit himself to their unholy wishes. They did not like the fact that the Church prayed for their conversion, so they demanded that he change the prayer in the Mass on Black Friday. It does not take a theologian to recognise that something is gravely wrong here. Since when does the Church make its policies based on the whims of anti-Christs? I realise that Pope Benedict’s altered prayer is still Catholic in its basic substance, but the very idea of consulting anti-Christs for changes to the Mass is absurd. And it does not make me un-Catholic to make this observation, nor does it mean that I do not respect the authority of the Pope.

But none of these scandalous actions should be entirely surprising to Catholics. Pope Marcellinus sacrificed to false gods in the fourth century. [The only difference between that incident and the more recent abominations is that Marcellinus was required to do a long penance for his sins. Recent Popes have been praised by Catholics and non-Catholics alike for their sacrileges.] We have seen generations of corrupt Popes, centuries of simoniac bishops, and two thousand years worth of unchaste priests. And yet, in every generation there have been those who went against the common grain in the hierarchy and did what was right. They kept their vows of chastity, they refused to exploit the poor, and they did not withhold rebuke from anybody who needed it, the Holy Father included. These people became known as saints.

And yes, many of them probably were more Catholic than the Pope.

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Domine, doce nos orare

Throughout all the journeys in my life that ultimately led me to the Holy Roman Church, there is one journey amongst them all that still continues well after my conversion. This journey traces a long and winding road, starting with my earliest memories as a child and continuing all the way until this very moment. Many of my travels to the Church had very clear starting and ending points, like my reading of the Apostolick Fathers, my one-year stint in an Anglican Communion, and my struggles with the Marian dogmas. Those journeys have ended.

But there is one journey that remains a constant in my life. It is, without exaggeration, the very centre of my being; it is a scope through which I can view myself at any point in my life. In a way, it is a thermometre that measures my very vital signs. It is my prayer life.

My earliest memories of prayer began when I was not even four years old. I was horribly afraid of the dark, and night lights only made things worse for me. The half-way illumination of the old acoustic ceiling in my house made all kinds of ghastly things appear to me. The fear of creatures in the closet or people underneath my bed frightened me constantly. I would always run to my parents’ room and beg of them to pray for me.

My father always prayed for my brothers and me every night. Once in bed with teeth brushed, he would lean over me, embrace my shoulder and touch his cheek to mine, and ask God’s blessing on me. He did this to each of us individually. I can still remember the distinct feeling of his whiskers against my face and the smell of his cologne. But there were some nights where he was not home due to other business or out-of-town trips. And on those nights, Mother put us to bed with somewhat less routine than Father.

On many a night such as this, I would summon my mother back to my room for her to explain to me that everything would be just fine. She would tell me of how God’s angels would come to watch over me and protect me. Then she would pray for my guardian angel to come and comfort me. And it always worked. Within minutes, my fear would subside, and I would be fast asleep – safely tucked away in the arms of my guardian angel.

Incidents like these and the ubiquitous prayers before meals were all I knew of prayer for some years. When I got older I began to participate in family prayer time and in prayer at the small Christian school which I attended. I prayed with childlike faith and was always amazed at the way God seemed to work through prayer. Though my own private prayer life was not cultivated until I was a teenager, I was always comfortable with the idea of prayer.

With my teenage years came secondary school, increased academic burdens, and all the physical and hormonal upheavals that plague young men. My prayer life began to take on a life all its own, no longer limited to blessings of meals and prayers of healing for sick members of my extended family. My awareness of my own sinfulness led me to a prayer life that was mostly confessional in nature, and prayers that pleaded for God’s grace in impossible scenarios. Suffice to say, my prayer life was basically prayer out of necessity and not prayer out of love.

With some maturity and some instruction from my systematic theology teacher, I began to develop a more balanced prayer life. I tried to spend as much time in prayers of thanksgiving and adoration as much as I did in confession of sin and in asking for help. As I did this, I recall my life being blessed immensely. I felt centred. I felt whole. I felt completed and full of life. Then, at the end of my final year in secondary school, I went through a typical teenage romance that, after six weeks, left me heartbroken and lonesome. My prayer life then underwent a bizarre metamorphosis and became an avenue for self-pity and self-loathing. My entire body shut down and I retreated into an alienated world of solitude. Not long after, I ceased praying altogether. I lost weight, I lost contact with the rest of the world, and I lost the joy of my Christian life.

I know not whether it was merely the lapsing of time or the swift arrival of my first year of college that awakened me, but whatever it was in God’s Providence, it brought me out of the tiny and insignificant world of self and back into the vast and boundless real world – a world where I could pray once again.

The many distractions of college life proved too much for my weak will, however, and within a matter of months I was back to my prayers out of necessity. Please, dear God, let me pass this test. Please, I promise never to skip class again, but let me get out of this assignment. Please, O God, do not let the professor catch me on this one. I was, for the most part, an absolute failure when it came to my college studies and I hated myself for it. Having a father who taught at the same college I attended meant having a father who was intimately involved in my academic life. I know that my failures disappointed him beyond belief, and one day he told me how to pray about school.

I would like to say that I implemented his prayers and everything turned around and I got straight A’s the rest of my college tenure, but that did not happen. But I did find myself walking from class to class, silently praying about my academic ventures. For once in a long time, prayer became proactive instead of reactive, and I did begin to take my studies more seriously. I pulled up my grades substantially and was removed from the academic probation list and placed back on the good standing list.

Around the same time, I began taking quite an interest in mind-altering chemicals. The deeper I went into that lifestyle, the more my prayer life continued to wane. Still, I was able to keep my grades above par for the remainder of my college years. Unlike many of my peers, I still ended up being graduated in four years, even in the face of my rapidly developing dangerous drug habit.

My life was mostly a roller-coaster of events for the next several years, with prayer being mostly an afterthought.  As I slowly grew up and began to leave behind my more destructive habits, prayer suddenly found its way back into my life. By the time my prayer life was active again, I began reading the Bible more systematically, and even began praying more systematically. I began keeping track of the people for whom I prayed the most often, and kept a record of prayer requests on a piece of paper. My friends and I began to hold each other accountable in our temptations to drug use, drunkenness, and other vices. We began praying together, with and for each other. We grew in maturity and piety and wisdom. I became more regular in my job performance and began getting along better with my family. For once in a long time, that wholeness came back to me. I felt alive again.

This has always stood out to me throughout my whole life; prayer seems to highlight my life at every pass. Whenever I became comfortable, I left my prayer life to stagnate. But as soon as I was in trouble, I knew I had to pray. I knew that my life had gotten especially bad at one point when I realised that I had not prayed on my own in a very long time. I said my prayers before meals and the prayers at church, but I myself had not prayed on my own in longer than I could remember.

As I was driving down a rural route in north Georgia one day, I saw a Baptist church that had a sign out front. But it did not have any clever one-liners or jokes about why you should visit there. It only said one word: Pray. It occurred to me how much that sign bothered me. Why was it there? Why could I not pray? When I got home and got on my knees, my life began to change for the better. Since then, I have seen many of these up-and-down cycles. As I get older, the dips don’t go as low as they used to, but they are still there. And no matter where I am or what I am doing, my devotion to prayer is and has always been the cause and effect of my growth as a Christian.

Somebody recently asked me how being Catholic has helped my devotional life. And that is not something about which I do a lot of talking. But it is true that perhaps nothing has changed so drastically in my life as my devotional life. Why have I not written about this before? Maybe because apologetics is so much more exciting. But even the most deft and diligent of apologists will be forced to admit that prayer is the most effective weapon a Catholic has for the conversion of sinners. As one great saint once said, “I would rather have ten nuns praying than an hundred priests preaching.” Conversion of heart is, after all, the work of the Holy Ghost.

So to take a break from my usual apologetics, allow me to answer the question recently posed to me. Below I will try to outline some of the many facets of Catholic prayer and mention a few of the more significant impacts of the Catholic faith on my prayer life.

For Catholics, prayer is corporate. When we pray the Our Father, even alone, do we not begin by saying Our Father? When we pray, we are joined with all the saints in prayer. When we pray, we become united with the whole Church and with Christ Himself. Whether we go to assist at Mass, pray a novena, pray the Rosary, pray for the faithful departed, whatever we do, we do not do it alone. Praying inside of an old Catholic Church is a constant reminder of the host of angels and saints who are protecting us and praying with us at all times.

For Catholics, spoken prayer is formal. Talking to the Almighty is a pretty big deal, and if you have any intent on speaking to Him in public, it is a good idea to think about what you are going to say ahead of time. Catholics use prayer cards and missals and devotional books and many other things to make spoken prayer more fulfilling and proper. Since praying off the cuff is not always the easiest for me to do, prayer cards are of infinite value to me. When the soul is greatly distressed, reading my prayers is very comforting. Not having to think about the words I am using is very relieving as is knowing that I can pray without distraction. Knowing that the words have already been well chosen by a saint is a great comfort as well.

For most people learning how to pray requires learning from the masters, and prayer cards and devotional books are precisely the way to do that. I teach my own children how to pray the same way. A friend confessed to me recently that he found prayer in public to be difficult and awkward and that he preferred not to do it at all. The problem was that he would be asked to pray by somebody else and to turn down the request appeared impious. I told him that if ever he finds himself in such a situation again, that he should pray the Our Father. Nobody would ever claim that it was a bad prayer or that one who prayed it did a poor job.

For Catholics, mental prayer is equally important. Mental prayer is something that is very unique in that it does not seem to be prayer in the proper sense of the word. Whilst holy cards and prayer books aid us in our spoken prayers, meditations guide us in our mental prayers. This is not to say that mental prayer is not structured. It certainly can be, depending on the method used, but it does not have to be. Mental prayer is the practise of filling one’s mind with things pertaining to God’s goodness, His graces, His attributes, or even His wrath and then giving Him the appropriate acts of contrition, humility, love, devotion, and hope. In this sense, mental prayer is very informal; it is the overflowing of the affections of one’s soul to God.

Mental prayer and meditation are primarily Catholic devotions. I have never seen mental prayer advocated by any Protestant minister or even discussed in Protestant circles. Catholic meditation should not be confused with transcendental meditation. It is precisely the opposite of the meditation of the Eastern religions in that its purpose is to fill the mind rather than to empty it. If the mind is full of godly things, it recoils at those things that are evil. But if the mind is emptied, it – like any vacuum – readily accepts anything put in its reach.

For Catholics, life is prayer. From the time you rise till the time you rest, every action is done as an offering to God. Every piece of suffering, labour, or work is offered up to God in union with Christ’s passion to share in His sufferings. A strong prayer life involves reparation for the sins of others, taking every bit of pain and discomfort with joy, knowing that our sufferings and penances can lighten the burdens of others. When prayer is seen in this light, it becomes natural and our attitude changes drastically toward the various little inconveniences that are thrown in our path.

For Catholics, prayer is life. Trying to live without prayer is like trying to live without breath. When we pray, we become what God intended for us to be. Like I have learnt in my own life, when I pray, I am truly made alive. In the Aristotelian understanding of being, a man is truly a man only when he prays. For Catholics, prayer is not just how we talk to God when we need something; a prayer is there for everything we do. Getting ready to drive? Pray the motorist’s prayer. Just finish driving? Pray the prayer of thanksgiving for a safe arrival. Getting ready to eat? Pray the blessing before meals. Just finish eating? Pray the thanksgiving after meals. Going to bed? Waking up? Have insomnia? Whatever the case is, the Catholic Church has provided a prayer for you. Learning the many prayers for all these instances makes prayer as natural as breathing itself. There comes a point when prayer becomes the natural response to just about anything.

I do not pretend that Catholics have a monopoly on prayer. Certainly they do not. I have been praying my whole life, and I believe that God was watching over me and answering my prayers the whole time. And after many prayers to lead me to the truth, I believe He answered them in leading me to the Church He founded centuries ago. And I fully anticipate to continue this journey of prayer until my life’s end and beyond (no, my Protestant readers, I do not intend to give up the practise of prayer solely because I may pass on to the next life).

Currently Reading Preparation for Death: Considerations on Death, Judgment, Heaven and Hell By St. Alfonsus Liguori see related

Ut observetis eos qui dissensiones et offendicula præter doctrinam quam vos didicistis faciunt et declinate ab illis

I have steered away from doing any sort of polemical posts in the recent past. Frankly, I am tired of the same old worn-out arguments and the same old worn-out responses. But there is something I would like to address here on my dying website regarding the exclusive claims of the Catholic Church which seem to offend so many people.

In many recent discussions I have had, both in person and over the internet, there seems to be a recurring theme amongst many Protestants regarding the claims of the Catholic Church. Many Protestants I know would call themselves Catholics. They believe in the saving powers of Baptism and the Eucharist, they love Mary the Mother of God, they reverence icons, and they invoke the departed saints in prayer. But they remain, for whatever reason, members of Protestant churches. Sometimes they are high-church Anglicans, sometimes Presbyterians, and other times various flavours of independent Reformed. They believe that it is truly enough to believe all the right doctrines of the historic Church to call oneself Catholic. Some would not even require that much, and merely wish to be called Catholic simply because they think that whilst the title may not currently be applied to them by most outsiders, that it nevertheless ought to apply to them. I hear these kinds of remarks all the time:

“I am catholic, but I’m not Roman Catholic.”

My response to this is usually, “Oh, you are a Ruthenian Catholic? Byzantine Catholic? Maronite? Meklite?” To which I usually get a puzzled face and some explanation about how “catholic” means “universal” and since they consider themselves part of the universal Church, somehow they must be Catholic as well. It does not ever seem to matter that there are certain things that Catholics have always believed or done – they seem to expect the title regardless.

This is also a common one:

“The Roman Catholic Church cannot be catholic because it is merely the church of Rome. True catholicity is about unity in diversity.”

The term catholicity, when used by most Protestants, is one of my biggest pet peeves. It gets thrown around like some kind of power-word that is supposed to invoke all the right feelings in Protestants about the grand unity of the multi-denominational Brahman. But that particular annoyance aside, this remains one of the more annoying claims. The term Roman Catholic Church is a rather recent affectation of the more proper term Catholic Church. When used properly, the Roman simply refers to the one thing that has united Catholics for two millennia: communion with the Bishop of Rome. But communion with the Bishop of Rome does not mean part of the church of Rome. The diocese of Rome includes only the faithful within a small geographic area of the world. Those in communion with the Bishop of Rome include some 2,582 other dioceses, none of which are the particular church of Rome.

In short, the argument is that Roman Catholics are not Catholic because communion with the Bishop of Rome is required for membership in the Roman Catholic Church. This is like saying that Americans are not really Americans since their President is in Washington, D.C.

But the “unity in diversity” is a little strange to me. Since when are Catholics not a diverse group? Within Catholicism, there are some twenty-three different liturgical rites, thousands of religious orders, and even more lay apostolates, including hospitals, charities, and other various parish ministries. What more could one expect in terms of diversity?

Maybe they mean diversity in belief. In that case, I am sad to say that Catholics are just as diverse as Protestants. But in the sense of what Catholics ought to believe, there is certainly not the diversity of belief that is permitted to exist in Protestant communities. But this is where I begin to get confused. What is the point in wanting to call yourself Catholic when Catholics have historically been known by a certain beliefs and practises? Why bother wanting to associate yourself with a certain set of beliefs when you are at odds with that very set of beliefs?

It is as if people have this idea that the Catholic Church somehow hijacked the name Catholic from all the Bible-believing Christians because we all know deep down that the real Catholics are the Protestants.

Many of them argue against the Catholic Church saying that the one problem they have with the Catholic Church is that it exclusively claims to be the Church. To them, this is arrogant, uncompassionate, and does not promote the unity of the Church. It is then that I hear this whopper:

“You are still a Protestant. Your conversion to the Roman Catholic Church was the most Protestant thing you have ever done. You did not change your religion, just your denomination.”

This one never ceases to amaze me. I first heard it over at reformed(anythingbut)catholicism.com about a year ago. I thought it was strange then and I still found it strange as of a few days ago. I still hear it from friends and online acquaintances. Then, it dawned on me: to a Protestant, the words “Catholic” and “Protestant” mean something drastically different from what they mean to a Catholic. If I were to venture a guess as to how those words are defined by Protestants, here is what they would be:

Catholic: 1. n., (from the Greek katholos, universal) a person who holds to a system of beliefs where all of the possible theological positions in the world are accepted as potentially correct, with the exception of the belief that there is an exclusive set of teachings belonging to One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church. Ex.: “A true catholic accepts the universality and merit of all Christian religions, and is not a schismatic by claiming exclusivity in one Church.” 2. adj. that which does not claim to be exclusive, but rather admits to being only one amongst many equally valid possibilities.

Protestant: 1. n., a person who makes rational decisions based on a particular set of presuppositions that he holds, and who holds his convictions seriously and unwaveringly; anyone capable of forming an opinion and truly believing it. Ex.: “When George became a Roman Catholic, he used arguments based on the Bible and rational thought and believed strongly the dogmas of the Catholic Church, thus proving himself to be a Protestant to the very core.”

If we accept these definitions, we begin to understand why Protestants make the statements they do about Catholic converts. With these definitions, the following things become “Protestant”:

• Seriously believing the claims of one’s religion
• Use of any form of reason to justify or explain one’s conversion
• A belief that the Bible is infallible

And then, all of the following things become “Catholic”:

• Believing that all Christian religions have some truth and some error
• Refusal to make any dogmatic statements
• Calling anyone who believes in the visible unity of One, Holy Catholic, and Apostolic Church a schismatic

Now it all makes sense why I hear these claims from Protestants; they truly believe that they are truly Catholic and I am still a Protestant.

But I want to shift gears briefly and talk specifically regarding those who believe in all of the historic Catholic doctrines, like the priesthood, the episcopacy, the Sacraments, the Marian dogmas, &c. but still think that it is acceptable to be in a Protestant community.

First of all where does this kind of ecclesiology exist in the Fathers? What is Catholic about refusing to be a part of the visible Catholic Church in communion with the Bishop of Rome? Where in the medieval councils and saints, where many of the Marian and Sacramental dogmas were defined or expounded, do we find this kind of ecclesiology that says that schism is not really an important issue any more?

The very idea of the Catholic Church existing without visible communion amongst the bishops is entirely foreign to the entire history of the Church. What good does it do to accept the Immaculate Conception of the Theotokos, the Sacrifice of the Mass, and the necessity of the Episcopate if you are then going to reject the Church’s teachings on the necessity of communion with the Catholic Church? The high-church Anglicans have the Branch Theory to account for their aberrant ecclesiology, claiming that they hold to the historic Catholic faith and that that makes them a valid branch of the Church. But this very concept itself is an innovation of the Reformation. It is rejected by the Catholic Church, the Eastern Orthodox church, and the Coptic church. The only folks ever to believe in such a notion were the Anglicans, and that makes them at odds with the historic Catholic faith that they claim to be preserving.

What is the common thread amongst all these groups thus far mentioned? They all like to pick and choose the portions of the Apostolick Deposit they accept. Some accept none of it but the Divinity of Christ. Some accept all of it but the requirement for visible unity. Either way, the Catholic faith is an all-or-nothing religion. You cannot claim to be Catholic and only accept part of what that Catholic Church teaches. That simply is not Catholicism. It is an invention, a fabrication, an illusion. So then, along similar veins, I hear this objection:

“The only bad thing about the Catholic Church is its exclusive claim regarding the Church. They are just one part of the whole Catholic Church. We Protestants do not claim exclusivity and neither should they.”

I liken this problem to the objection that the various strands of liberals apply to Christianity. I hear conversations like this all the time:

Agnostic, Hindoo, or PCUSA/ECUSA clergypersonette: “The problem that I have with mainstream Christianity is that it claims exclusivity. It actually is just one road of many to attain to the afterlife. Jesus was just a great prophet whose teachings should be revered but he himself should not be worshipped.”

Christian: “If Christianity is in any wise true, it is the only way, and if it is merely one way among many, then it is no way at all. Jesus could not have been merely a good man and said what He said. He must have been the Son of God. If He was not who He claimed to be, then He was either a liar or a lunatic.”

Here is a parallel conversation:

Member of the Western Branch of American Reformed Presbo-Lutheranism: “The problem that I have with Catholicism is that it claims exclusivity. It actually is just one denomination of many to attain to eternal life in Heaven. The Church is just another human institution whose teachings should be respected but the Church herself should not be considered infallible.”

Catholic: “If the Catholic faith is in any wise true, it is the only way, and if it is merely one way among many, then it is no way at all. The Church cannot be merely a human institution and claim what She claims. She must be the Mystical Bride of Christ or a bunch of liars and thieves on a demonic mission.”

So allow me now to tie all of this back together with the title of the post. What does St. Paul demand in his epistle to the Romans?

Now I beseech you, brethren, to mark them who make dissensions and offences contrary to the doctrine which you have learned, and avoid them. – Romans XVI:xvii

When the Catholic Church actually follows through with this command, She is attacked by Protestants as schismatic and arrogant. The Catholic Church proclaims a dogma and says that the faithful are to believe it or be anathema, and the Protestant recoils in horror. But then the Protestant claims that the Mormons and Jehovah’s Witnesses are “not Christian” because they do not believe in the dogma of the Trinity. Why this inconsistency?

When the Protestants began teaching aberrant doctrines at the outset of the Reformation, how exactly should have the Catholic Church responded to them? The Protestants were, by their own admission in many cases, teaching things that were never believed before in the history of the Church. They were teaching things that were contrary to the doctrines which had been passed down in the Church. The Scriptures say that such men are to marked and avoided. But such behaviour is considered schismatic by the Protestants.

St. Paul commanded this very “all-or-nothing” approach to the Catholic faith that is condemned by the Protestants. If one were to split from the Church, he is to be rejected. If one teaches contrary to the Church, he is to be avoided. You are either for it or you are against it. This is where the Œcumenical Councils have fulfilled this task: to establish right doctrine and reject false doctrine. They draw the lines in the sand – are you in or are you out?

Either the Catholic Church is who She claims to be, or the Catholic Church is the grandest and most fraudulent lie ever conceived in the history of the world.