January 23, 2012

I am Pro-Life, and I am also Anti-Abortion

There is no need to recount the gruesome statistics of Roe v Wade's legacy; for those, go here: http://www.guttmacher.org/pubs/fb_induced_abortion.html (the Guttmacher Institute, by the way, is about as pro-abortion as a group can be).

For this post, rather, I want to explore two common objections which advocates of prenatal violence often raise to outlawing the barbarous practice of abortion. I will reveal, in advance of my argument, that there is not a single justifiable reason for the purposeful murder of any unborn child. I am not here intending to consider every argument.

The Mother's Health
The most common argument I now hear for legalized abortion is, sadly, the only argument also commonly used by many who otherwise consider themselves to be anti-abortion. This is the argument for legalized abortion in those (extremely rare) cases wherein the mother's health is at grave risk. Truly, this argument is difficult to counter because of the emotional implication that to oppose this argument, one is actively promoting the death of the mother. This, of course, is false and misleading: a red herring fallacy. If an action is right, it is right regardless of consequences; conversely, if an action is wrong, no positive consequence can justify that act.

Here I will suggest a Christian principal which we, as Americans, are often eager to neglect:

It is better to be killed, than to kill.

It is always unjust and immoral to sacrifice the life of the innocent - even for the sake of another innocent. Taking the "health-of-the-mother" argument to a slightly different scenario will highlight the perilous moral ground on which it rests. Consider a 2-year old girl, Marie, who is infected with a deadly and highly contagious disease; such that any contact with Marie by others would result in contraction of the disease. Would a community be morally justified in murdering 2-year old Marie for the safety of the community? Moreover, what sort of parent might abandon the little girl and not, instead, rush to her aid  knowing that to do so means the death of them both?

Now, in answer to the emotional drama inflicted on us by the use of this red herring argument, I offer a basic fact: everyone dies. Old and young, man and woman, whether by disease or disaster, every single living being on earth will die. And if you find yourself in an unfortunate situation in which your only viable option for life is to first take the life of an innocent person, I hope you will understand the principle I gave above: It is better to be killed, than to kill. Think of shipwrecked sailors confronted by starvation and the horrifying tales of cannibalism; by killing fellow sailors, the hungry have preserved their lives, but at what cost to their eternal souls?

No, as humans we are often faced with difficult situations during which the better of us will seek not only the good of others but also the good of our souls. A man might be tasked with confessing a failure to his employer, knowing that his career will be finished. For fear of losing his job, he may lie or cheat; he may also, for honour's sake, press forward with the truth at the peril of his own financial safety. I pray God find me at the table of the honourable dead rather than that of the cowardly living.


Illegal Abortions are Dangerous
The second argument I will consider is closely related to the first, yet far more asinine and absurd in its conclusions. Almost nothing is more irritating than to hear the tired and untidy refrain that

"If a woman cannot obtain a legal abortion, she will be forced to use illegal and dangerous methods".

As if any sort of magical jurisprudence could eliminate the danger to the infant during a "safe" abortion.

This argument is absurd, and is clearly the design of desperation. Imagine if we applied this reasoning to theft. Perhaps it is too dangerous for thieves that homeowners are allowed to defend their families and homes; we need to legalize theft for the safety of the thieves. We could have open house nights at which times thieves could take the things they want without fear of danger to their health.

Simply put, no sane society enacts laws for the sake of the criminal. Theft is unsafe, drug use is unsafe: the danger serves as a natural incentive to avoid the bad behaviour. Aside from the fact that it is not society's duty (nor is it in society's best interest) to lessen the pain of immorality, the abortionist's argument here seems to suggest that a woman is incapable of making any other decision than to terminate the life of her child. This suggestion should upset women more than it seems to do.

Tu Quoque and Other Nonsense
Without delving too deeply into more arguments for legalized abortion, I will note at least one more obnoxious argument. It's not actually an argument at all, but a malformed tu quoque logical fallacy:

"Well, if you're so pro-life, why don't you spend more time arguing against the death penalty?" (or for universal health care, or for immigrant's rights, etc.).

I guarantee you have heard one of these weak attempts at intelligence. Remember to redirect the conversation back to abortion, but let's all be willing to discuss these other important social topics as well and in their own time.

I hope the minor exploration of these two common arguments will help you separate the wheat of reason from the chaff of rhetoric. I am interested to know what you consider to be the best arguments for abortion and how you have answered those arguments.

I pray God the Father of mercies will illuminate the hearts of men and women to the evil of abortion. Pray with me.

January 9, 2012

The Five-fold Baptism of our Children

On November 6 of 2011, Rachel and I had the privilege of participating in the baptism of all 5 of our children. I felt like Cornelius who must have watched with great joy as his entire household was baptized by the Apostle Peter. Most families have their children baptized soon after birth; having joined the Church later in life, we had, instead, a marathon baptism.

As I started Bryan College in the fall of 1999, no one could have persuaded me that in 12 years I would be standing in a Catholic Church as my children were baptized. In fact, growing up in a Southern Baptist tradition, I found no place suitable for a child's baptism. Belief before baptism: if there could be a Southern Baptist credo, this is it.

I understand now, in a strange turnabout of doctrine, that credo to derive from a works-based mentality. As odd as it may sound, if belief is required in order to receive the grace of baptism, then even that belief is a type of work. In true Christian doctrine, grace must always be prevenient.

Can there be a greater example of free grace than to offer sanctifying baptism to a baby who has had no time nor ability to do any good thing, to profess any creed, or to believe any doctrine?

January 6, 2012

Downton Abbey, Season 2 Premier. No Spoilers


Last evening, Rachel and I enjoyed a free screening of the season 2 premier of the surprise hit Downton Abbey. For those of you poor souls too engrossed in 'Swamp People' and the Kardashian crises, Downton Abbey is part of the 'Masterpiece' series on PBS.

The show is set at the dawn of World War I, just as the notorious class system of Victorian England was beginning to fade. Julian Fellowes, writer, brilliantly depicts the inter-relationships of the upper class Grantham family and their house-full of servants. The plot is thick, varied, and delicately woven together.

Watch Season 1 Episodes Here.

Then on to Season 2, which starts this Sunday on PBS.

Having only seen the first episode of season 2, I can not give a full accounting of what's to come. However, I offer these insights (no spoilers).

Any time I progress into season 2 of a favored show, I worry about 2 problems:

1. That the plot will suffer from a loss of continuity from season 1.
2. That the plot will be too disjointed from season 1.

Neither of these is a problem for Downton Abbey, Season 2. I was happy that the premier of season 2 picked up nicely from the final episode of season 1 while avoiding the confusing gap that sometimes accompanies new seasons. Characters retain their same quirky personae, and the major plot lines of season 1 are further developed in a pleasingly consistent manner. There are also a few new plot lines that figure nicely into the existing ones.

You will see all of your favorite characters plus a few new ones. And a few that figure lightly in season 1 appear to be gearing up for more screen presence in season 2. O'Brian is up to her old tricks, Carson is as stodgy and affable as ever, and the two elder sisters continue to battle in a way only sisters can.

Judging from the premier, season 2 is not to be missed.

But do yourself a favor and watch season 1 first; you'll be hopelessly lost without it. And look forward to season 3. That's right! Season 3 has already been announced and is currently in production.

Oh, yeah. One more thing: everybody dies.

January 4, 2012

Whiny Wednesdays

I woke up about every hour last night with a splitting headache; the first cold of 2012 has struck. And I've spent a lot of time wondering today, Why has science not solved these colds?

Seriously, we can create babies in labs but we can't cure colds. You have failed all of us, scientists.

Sickness seems to force me to withdraw into myself; a sick day is like forced meditation. I don't meditate nearly as often as I should, and being ill provides me motivation and opportunity to sit still for extended periods. Sickness also is a powerful reminder of the value of health.

There is no doubt that God uses our suffering (even the minor suffering of a cold) as a means to call us back to Himself. It is a reminder of that ultimate sickness, sin. And it is a reminder that we will find healing only in the satisfaction of God.

God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world. - CS Lewis, The Problem of Pain

January 3, 2012

The Saddest Truth

I realize that temptation is easiest to resist when indulgence would damage or destroy something I value. A man may avoid cheating on his wife for fear of losing his wife, or a woman may avoid cheating on her taxes for fear of losing her freedom. What strikes me most about this concept is that when I do give in to my temptations, it must be because I do not consider myself to be losing or damaging anything of great value. And from years of experience, I understand that sin disconnects me from God every single time. This is the most horrible realization of all; at those times in which I willingly give into temptation, I do not value my relationship with God enough to withstand.

January 2, 2012

God, our Great Satisfaction

Lately, I have been consuming large quantities of information about Buddhism. I suppose I would have been averse to studying other religions when I was younger, but I now feel as there is nothing harmful in assessing a religion and even incorporating various aspects of that religion into my own ideas.

With Buddhism, however, my interest is more than merely academic. I find certain similarities between Christianity and Buddhism to be fascinating. The most profound similarity lies at the very base of Buddhism (and may lie at the base of Christianity as well).

The Buddha taught that all of our suffering comes about because of our desires. Buddhism, strangely, would go so far as to teach that even what we might term "positive desires" are a cause of suffering. For example, the desire to love your child would be viewed by most Westerners as a good desire. But in Buddhism, even that sort of desire can (and ultimately will) be used to create suffering. Perhaps by way of the death of that child. If you had not loved the child, his death would cause you no suffering.

Now, in the way I understand "desire", I am not able to accept that all desires are negative and therefore cause suffering, but I do believe that Christianity teaches as part of its core message that our desires are broken and are absolutely the cause of all suffering.

What was the first sin? This question is a favorite of armchair theologians (I could be chairman of this society). On the surface the first sin was simply the sin of disobedience. God said, "Don't". Adam and Eve did it anyway. My kids are experts at this. On examining the underlying cause of the disobedience, however, we might discover that Eve wanted to be great and wise as the Serpent had promised: the sin of pride. Or maybe that Eve didn't really take God very seriously, so that she ignored His warning: the sin of dishonoring God.

You could personally come up with several more nuanced ways to consider the question of the first sin, but I will posit that the first sin was this: Adam and Eve did not believe they already possessed everything they needed.

God had given them everything they needed to live as He wanted them to live. They had no clothes because they needed no clothes. They had no weapons, for there was nothing to kill. They had no tools, for the garden provided food. But at some point they believed they lacked something, and the Serpent was all too ready to provide them with a fruit that would supposedly fill that void.

I'm with the Buddha here; their desire caused suffering. The solution to avoiding the scandal of the first sin would not have been perfect obedience nor a subjugation of inner pride. The solution was and still is contentment.

God made your food to grow on trees. He provided a temperate environment that abrogated the need for clothing. HE WALKED WITH YOU IN THE GARDEN. What else did you need?

How, in that pristine garden, did Adam and Eve find need for anything? I wonder if the full lesson of the Garden, had it been allowed to play out as God intended, would have been that eventually we would stop eating altogether as we realized that God Himself is our great satisfaction.

The Buddha might have seen this as the Great Emptiness or Silence, but I think He has a name tied to all Being. A name so pervasive and powerful that Jewish worshipers won't even write it on paper. The Great I AM who exists in a way as to make all other life vapid and tenuous by comparison; and also, who exists in a way as to make all other life eternally substantial and majestic.

According as his divine power has given unto us all things that pertain unto life and godliness, through the knowledge of him that has called us to glory and virtue: Whereby are given unto us exceeding great and precious promises: that by these you might be partakers of the divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world through lust. - 2 Peter 1:3-4

January 1, 2012

Mary, our Mother, Renewer of Faith

What I once feared most has become an inexpressible source of mysterious joy. This single dark shadow of terror was the final obstacle to my conversion. I could justify prayer to the saints, I was supportive of the sacrament of confession, I was vehement in my belief of transubstantiation. But I could not get past Mary.

Mary, the mother of our Lord, stood in front of me like a pagan goddess. With glowing red eyes and snakes for hair, she beckoned me to abandon God and worship her instead. This, at least, was my impression of the Catholic [mis]understanding of Mary's true role which, as a Protestant, I knew to be nothing more than minor.

How very wrong I was.

Nothing except the Eucharist has done more to bring me to Jesus than the Virgin Mary. When I pray to Mary, I don't suddenly begin to think of her as the creator of the universe or as the saviour of mankind. What I have instead found is that, just as she herself proclaimed, Mary magnifies the Lord. The Virgin Mary is like a magnifying glass to look upon her son, our Lord.

I pray to her as my Mother. If I can in all humility claim to be a brother to the Lord Jesus through adoption, then Christ's mother is mine as well. And she continually guides me not to herself, but to her only son Jesus.

When I doubt, when I fear, when I am anxious, the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God and Queen of Heaven carries me back to the arms of her holy Son.

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 us the
Blessed Fruit of thy Womb, Jesus.
O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary.

February 28, 2011

February 25, 2011

Confirmation

Rachel and I were received into the Catholic Church at the Easter Vigil Mass, 2010 at the parish of Sts. Peter and Paul in Chattanooga, TN. I suppose the lack of fanfare on my part (at least in regard to this blog) is due primarily to having been Catholic in everything but name for nearly a year before confirmation. My intellect and emotions were satisfied, and I needed only to push forward into the Sacraments.

We didn't make a big deal about confirmation; in fact, only my brother and sister-in-law knew. They even watched all four of our children during the celebration!

(Continue Reading...)

We enjoyed the Mass and it was simply a miraculous experience to fully partake of the Eucharist for the first time. Afterward, the RCIA class of 2010 was treated to a 7-course meal at an exclusive French restaurant. We dined with our sponsors, with the other newly confirmed, and with the Parish priests.

We have been very happy at Sts. Peter and Paul. They offer the most traditional service to be found in Chattanooga, and that is my cup of tea. Organ, small choir, 100+ year old building, not a single guitar in sight! I won't say that there haven't been difficulties, but to struggle while within the Church is much more rewarding than to struggle while without.

Our children enjoy Sunday School, and our oldest son enjoys Mass. He prays the Lord's Prayer every Sunday, he and our oldest daughter genuflect and cross themselves when entering and exiting the sanctuary, and we work on teaching them all a distinctly Catholic faith.

I still have questions, doubts, fears; and I suppose had I waited to resolve them, I would still be in a spiritual quagmire. Now, instead of asking questions like an employer to a potential hire, I ask questions like a child to his parents. I have accepted the authority, the love, and the wisdom of Christ's Church; so even if I don't understand all Her answers (and I certainly do not), I believe all Her answers and I obey.

November 8, 2010

Social Justice

A friend recently lamented that the Church should be at the fore of the social justice movement. He suggests that even the basic notion of "social justice" is and should be inseparable from the mission of Christ's Body. Here's his succinct statement:

"Christians should redeem the concept of "social justice". After all TRUE social justice is essentially the work of those who are the Righteousness of God. Don't agree? Talk to Moses, Amos, Isaiah, James, and Jesus."

What struck me was his use of the word "redeem". Is he saying that Social Justice is a Christian concept? Is he saying that leftist liberals weren't the originators of helping the needy? Yes he is.

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And I completely agree. I was so compelled by my friend's simple statement; it really turns the political paradigm on its head. The term "social justice" has become unnecessarily loaded in recent years due to certain political parties and their nefarious affiliations. "The friend of my enemy, must also be my enemy." For example, it's no wonder that Christians, who rightly oppose all forms of abortion/murder, would distance themselves from a political party that traditionally endorses such barbarism. Thus, if that same political party is affiliated with groups who use the term "social justice", Christians begin to question that concept as well.

But by using the word "redeem", my friend points out that the concept is ours, not anyone else's.

So, what do I mean by social justice? I'll let my friend answer:

"Justice for the orphan, widow, alien, poor, sick, etc."

There. It's not complex.We care for those have trouble caring for themselves. Now, am I advocating a wide array of taxation and benefit programs meted out by our esteemed government? Not necessarily. What I advocate is bound up in that great little word, "redeem". Let the Church locally administer social justice, and you'll see a worldwide redemption of both souls and hungry mouths. That's a social justice program I can get behind.

In regard to the inevitable political questions this issue raises, I would love to see the day when a journalist asks a Christian what he thinks about some new benefits program from the Feds, and he answers:

"Who cares. Let the nut-jobs in Washington work that out. My Church is actively meeting those needs already."

August 9, 2010

The Body and The Blood

In the course of my 4-year conversion, I had many theological and personal hurdles to jump before coming to full agreement with the Church. Three tough ones (for me) come to mind: intercession of the Saints, adoration of Mary, and Church authority. For most Protestants, the Church's teaching on the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist is also a major theological hill to climb, but it wasn't such a big deal for me.

As a Southern Baptist, I had been raised under two very clear principles that would later prove to be catalysts in my conversion:

1) A strong belief in miracles and other "faith-only" principles (in other words, those truths we cannot empirically verify)
2) A motif for interpreting Scripture according to a literal sense interpretation whenever possible

So when my Baptist preacher brought out the dusty communion plates every 4 months and uttered the words, "Take, eat, this is my body", I thought, even as a child, "that's His body"; though that simple understanding would be complicated by youth pastors and radio preachers as I "progressed". During college, I came to understand that the symbolic interpretation of Christ's words was heralded by Protestants more as a political strategy than sound theology; it was the anti-Catholic theology, and that was as good as a decree from St. Dobson.

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A few months into our 9 month stint in south Florida, my wife attended a Lutheran church. When communion began, the pastor asked her if she believed the elements to be the true body and blood of Christ. Thinking back to the Last Supper, she realized in one quick moment of clarity that she would be silly to not take Christ's words literally. While I did not fully appreciate it at the time, this event would become the primary motivation for moving forward for my wife, and ultimately for myself as well.

I'm not being coy when I say that I've never heard a good argument against Transubstantiation: that is, the doctrine that Christ is really and fully present in the elements of the Eucharist. A protestant can draw arguments from 2 different vantage points: 1) Scripture or 2) Empiricism.

The argument from Scripture is, simply, that the passages in question should be interpreted figuratively. In which case, the Catholic can argue that the passages should be interpreted literally. It's your interpretation vs. mine which turns quickly into a meaningless argument. Forgetting that the Church Fathers almost unanimously taught Transubstantiation, and that there is no good textual reason to abandon the literal sense interpretation, many Protestants are happy to wield a hollow defense of what is, clearly, a political stance and not a theological one.

The second argument is, ironically, more personally compelling and more absurd than the first. This is the argument that the elements can not be body and blood because they are clearly just bread and wine. If it looks like bread, and tastes like bread, then it must be bread. This is personally compelling because I, like my peers, was raised in a modernist culture that values empirical evidence. This is stoutly absurd because a Christian (Protestant or otherwise) has already submitted to some bizarre claims that are outside the realm of empirical verification. I would have a hard time looking a Catholic in the eye and stating that, while I affirm the resurrection, the Virgin birth, Jonah and the whale, the flood, and Genesis' account of Creation, I cannot affirm the words of Christ that those elements are His Body and Blood.

St. Ambrose said it nicely: "Could not Christ's word, which can make from nothing what did not exist, change existing things into what they were not before? It is no less a feat to give things their original nature than to change their nature."

I find the teaching to be a refreshing bulwark against modernism, an exercise of faith. It is also one more way in which the Church makes tactile the intangible. Transubstantiation represents a strange challenge to our faith; we struggle every day to believe those things that are unseen. How much more difficult to believe that something we see and touch and taste is substantially different than we perceive it?

One final note, and I won't dwell long on it because I don't understand the full implication. Jesus says, as recorded in John 6:53, "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you." Here, Jesus equates life or eternal salvation with the consumption of His Body and Blood. Is a symbolic understanding of the Eucharist an acceptable substitute for the clear teaching of Christianity on this subject? Can I claim to have the life Jesus wishes to give, if I, by my own belief, have never partaken of Christ? I trust that God's grace is greater than any disagreement between Protestants and Catholics, but I will continue to read John 6 with unease.

July 8, 2010

An Excerpt from John Henry Cardinal Newman

I have been reading John Henry Cardinal Newman's auto-biography, Apologia pro Vita Sua. It's a bit dry at first and hard to wade through all of the name-dropping (especially since I recognize none of the names he drops). But the meat of the book, that is, the explanation for his transitioning theology, is well worth the wait.

John Henry Newman was an Anglican minister and teacher at Oxford in the 1820s and 30s, who would convert to Catholicism around 1840. His conversion is explored and explained in the Apologia. For more on Cardinal Newman, you can read a biography here: http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/10794a.htm

The subject of my post today is an excerpt from the Apologia that has a fictitious Anglican debating a fictitious Catholic. Their topic of discussion is "the basis of Christianity". Is it to be found in the visible church (the Catholic position) or on the invisible Truth of ancient doctrine?

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"You say to me that the Church of Rome is corrupt. What then? to cut off a limb is a strange way of saving it from the influence of some constitutional ailment. Indigestion may cause cramp in the extremities; yet we spare our poor feet notwithstanding. Surely there is such a religious fact as the existence of a great Catholic body, union with which is a Christian privilege and duty. Now we English are separate from it."

The other answers: "The present is an unsatisfactory, miserable state of things, yet I can grant no more. The Church is founded on a doctrine, on the gospel Truth; it is a means to an end. Perish the Church, (though, blessed be the promise! this cannot be,) yet let it perish rather than the Truth should fail. Purity of faith is more precious to the Christian than unity itself. If Rome has erred grievously in doctrine, then it is a duty to separate even from Rome."

His friend, who takes the Roman side of the argument, refers to the image of the Vine and its branches, which is found, I think, in St Cyprian, as if a branch cut from the Catholic Vine must necessarily die. Also he quotes a passage from St Augustine in controversy with the Donatists to the same effect; viz. that, as being separated from the body of the Church, they were ipso facto cut off from the heritage of Christ. And he quotes St Cyril's argument drawn from the very title Catholic, which no body or communion of men has ever dared or been able to appropriate, besides one. He adds, "Now I am only contending for the fact, that the communion of Rome constitutes the main body of the Church Catholic, and that we are split off from it, and in the condition of the Donatists."

The other replies by denying the fact that the present Roman communion is like St Augustine's Catholic Church, inasmuch as there must be taken into account the large Anglican and Greek communions. Presently he takes the offensive, naming distinctly the points in which Rome has departed from Primitive Christianity, viz. "the practical idolatry, the virtual worship of the Virgin and Saints, which are the offence of the Latin Church, and the degradation of moral truth and duty, which follows from these." And again: "We cannot join a Church, did we wish it ever so much, which does not acknowledge our orders, refuses us the Cup, demands our acquiescence in image-worship, and excommunicates us, if we do not receive it and all other decisions of the Tridentine Council."

His opponent answers these objections by referring to the doctrine of "developments of gospel truth." Besides "The Anglican system itself is not found complete in those early centuries; so that the [Anglican] principle [of Antiquity] is self-destructive." "When a man takes up this Via Media, he is a mere doctrinaire;" he is like those, "who, in some matter of business, start up to suggest their own little crotchet, and are ever measuring mountains with a pocket ruler, or improving the planetary courses." "The Via Media has slept in libraries; it is a substitue of infancy for manhood."

December 4, 2009

Grace and Growth

This post is in response to my friend John Shelley's original blog post which can be found here.

Whenever I get the opportunity to talk with an old friend about my impending conversion to Roman Catholicism, the old friend inevitably will have a major problem with only one or two minor aspects of the faith. I and my wife both have been amazed at the apparent lack of real issues our Protestant pals will want to discuss. Lots of them have problems with Mary, or with praying to saints, or with statues. One person I talked to actually said she mistrusted Catholics because "they're always doin' stuff with their hands when they pass cemeteries or churches".

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I initially had an issue with these bug-a-boos as well during my burgeoning Catholic days of 2006 (yes, it's been a long ride). Having since dealt with them, I now face a bigger mountain to climb; the Catholic teaching on Grace, Justification, and Sanctification. This is the doctrine that keeps me up at night - the doctrine that makes me suspicious of the rosary on my bookshelf. And, truthfully, this is the doctrine that could topple my Romish ambitions.

John has succinctly explained the traditional Protestant approach to this doctrine at the aforementioned blog. The concept is simple, yet far-reaching: those who rest their salvific hopes on Christ, through faith, are instantiated with a saving grace sufficient to eternal salvation. Any good or evil deeds that a person commits after this "moment" - a tricky word depending on where you fall in the free-will/determinist argument - is not viewed as inconsequential, rather as supplemental to that initial grace. In other words, Justification and Sanctification are unique events in the Christian's life, the latter being the consequence and not the catalyst of the former.

It is this last bit (the separation of the 2 doctrines) where the Catholic distinction begins. The Church teaches, in contrast to the Protestant reformers, that there is no actual difference between "saving grace" and "sanctifying grace". When a man is Justified, his soul is actually cleansed. Therefore, Justification is not viewed in a strictly legal sense, rather a person becomes eligible for Heaven because he has actually been purified of his sins. This idea, of course, is anathema to reformed theology: the idea of "once saved, always saved" seems to go hand-in-hand with "once-a-sinner, always-a-sinner".

Now, that's not to say that Catholics never sin; instead the teaching is that dirty souls need to be re-cleansed. Hence confession, penance, and indulgences (topics for another day). The Church does teach, however, that a man may sin so grievously as to have all justification removed from his soul. Can he then be re-graced? Yes, but that falls under another, yet related, topic.

While I understand and appreciate the various Biblical texts that seem to support the Protestant rendition of Justification, I now have trouble seeing anything but the Catholic version when I read the Bible. Even the best proof-texts which come from the book of Romans don't bear out the "legal" view of Justification because I now understand that all of Romans 1 - 11 are building up to Romans 12, which is a diatribe on proper Christian living. Why would Saint Paul write so complex a document as his letter to the Romans just to build up to the climax of "how to live as a Christian" if his intent was to showcase an imputative grace that was not effectual to actually change a soul? He wouldn't, and he didn't. Even a cursory reading of Romans 6 will show that Saint Paul understood the efficacy of justification to make a soul pure and the ability of that soul to err after being justified.

The nuances of Saint Paul notwithstanding, you'll have a tremendously difficult time trying to find the legal view of justification anywhere else in Scripture. Try the Gospels, or John's epistles, or the Epistle of St. James, or the Old Testament. Nearly the entire Bible (including all of Paul's letters) has one central message: "Look what God has done, now live rightly".

Please don't misunderstand this post as a confident defense of Catholic soteriology. I'm still making my way through this mire, but I'm beginning to accept what generations of Church Fathers have always believed and preached. If I am honest with myself, this interpretation scares the hell out of me, but I guess that's the point.



July 24, 2009

Update


A blog is an excellent gimmick for making others think that you are more certain about your beliefs than you really are. Take, for example, the title of this blog: "Confirmed". It makes you think, "wow, this dude knows where he's headed" or "man, there's no changing his mind" or "what an arrogant prig". See what I mean? Well, I'm confessing today that the certainty relayed in this blog is a complete sham.

If I had changed the title of this blog to match my religious mood over that past 11 months, the progression would have been something like this:
  1. "Confirmed"
  2. "Running Scared"
  3. "I'd Rather Watch The Sopranos On Sunday Morning"
  4. "I'll At Least Go For Easter"
  5. "Church is Cool Again"
  6. "Confirmed, but Cautious"
So I'm currently at number 6. I suppose I'm glad I didn't keep up the blog during phases 2 - 5. Too much drama. But here's a summary.

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After attending a few Inquiry Classes at St. Jude, we were ready to begin RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults). The deacon in charge of the Inquiry Classes was excellent; very kind and informative. Our next step was to be officially welcomed into RCIA by the church during a Wednesday evening Mass. This got me sweating - since my time at Bryan College, I utterly despise standing in front of a group of religious people. I was told, however, not to worry because we would simply stand, receive a blessing from the priest, and shake congregant's hands afterwards at a pot-luck dinner. No problem.

When we arrived that Wednesday, we were informed about the evening's schedule:
  1. walk in from the back after everyone else is seated
  2. stand in front on steps facing congregation (choir style)
  3. receive some kind of weird "head-to-toe" blessing from our sponsor
At this point, I envisioned myself in front of 600 college kids with a guitar, closing my eyes, singing to Jesus my Boyfriend, and pretending not to think about how awesome I considered myself to be. The memory closed around me like Willy Wonka's shrinking hall.

I added my own number 4: BOLT!

And bolt, I did. I didn't even tell anyone. Just left. Completely Freaked Out.

You can guess from the date on my last blog entry when this occurred. Late August, early September. After the episode at St. Jude, I attended a few RCIA classes at St. Stephen, but I had lost my motivation. I didn't recover it until Easter of this year. The Easter Mass at Sts. Peter & Paul was beyond anything I had ever experienced. I left reignited and ready to try again.

We begin RCIA in September - unless they ask me to lead praise & worship...

August 25, 2008

St. Francis is a Sissy



An historical approach to Christianity was not one I had been accustomed to taking. My historical upbringing was so sparse, in fact, that I first learned about John Calvin during my high school sophomore world history class; you could, therefore, rightly assume that I knew nothing of the saints, the Church Fathers, or of Church history in general.

As a Southern Baptist, my view of Church history looked something like this: Jesus ascended into Heaven, the apostles preached the gospel for a few years and then were martyred, Martin Luther was the first real Christian after the death of the apostles, and he saved Christianity from the sinister Mary-worshipers (but we're not Lutherans because his Sola Scriptura didn't lead him to the same conclusions we now hold). Since then, everything in Christianity has been awesome. With the help of great men like M. Luther, Daddy Dobson, and my personal pope Rick Warren, God has always (at least since the mid-16th century) kept Christians - well, Baptists at least - on track.

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You can imagine my horror when I learned there is not a 1500-year gap in the Church's timeline. And a double shock from learning that M. Luther himself knew of this mysterious, godless history. And an outright cardiac event when I learned that Luther, Calvin, and other reformers actually based some of their doctrines on nothing other than tradition!? It's a good thing they abandoned the ways of Rome, or they might also have started teaching the perpetual virginity of Mary! 1

Satire aside, I took it on myself to discover our history. Clement (our 4th Pope, who knew Paul & Peter), Ignatius & Polycarp (both taught by John), Irenaeus, Augustine, Chrysostom, Tertullian, Jerome - all who found themselves in a very short line of people who directly or indirectly knew the apostles. Without going in to too much detail, and with no intentional offense, I quickly learned for myself what John Henry Newman had discovered 150 years earlier:

To be deep in history is to cease to be protestant.

I was getting deeper, and the ceasing had already begun.

July 21, 2008

Additional Thoughts from 2 Current Theologians

In continuation of my last post's question, I have pasted below a couple of correspondences with 2 men I respect on the very topic at hand. For your reading pleasure, and for your personal growth, here are the correspondences with Scot McKnight and Doug Kennard.

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Dr. McKnight,

I have only recently read your article entitled, "From Wheaton to Rome: Why Evangelicals become Roman Catholic", published in the September 2002 edition of the ETS Journal. I very much enjoyed the paper and am wondering if you might point me in the direction of some good Evangelical responses. As a struggling Evangelical, the two main problems with my church experience are those of Scriptural Interpretive Authority and Church History. I'd like to be able to understand the Evangelical answers to those two questions.

Thank you again for your article. It's always reassuring to know that I'm not the only one with these struggles.


Chris,

Thanks for your note. For its size, that article of mine has surely been read by lots of folks.

The resolution of the problems of "authority" and "history" are not really found in the RCC or the Eastern Orthodox Church, but in the mysterious providence of God who has permitted his Church to be what it is -- divisions and all. I don't think the unity of the Church can be found structurally -- though I'd like to see more of it. Nor can it be found institutionally -- it doesn't work on the good earth we live on now.

That unity is found in communion with the Spirit of God.

There is some kind of resolution in the Catholic magisterium, though there are plenty of skeletons in the closet in the RCC (and it claims perfection) and there are all kinds of division within and without. So, it uses structural connection to argue for what is no more united than the typical evangelical denomination.

The evangelical church needs, however, to wake up about Church history. It won't do to lop off 1500 years and pretend it was all mixed up until Luther and Calvin - who had their own mix-ups. What we need is more of the AEF (see the latest Christianity Today to see what I'm speaking of). WE need more we are more connected to the whole of the Church, and that comes when leaders will embrace the whole Church, preach from it, teach it, and encourage
others to explore it.

Hope this helps.

Blessings,
--
Scot McKnight

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Dr. Kennard,

I am hoping you might be able to help me with a question that has been bothering me for nearly a year. While attending a church in Florida last year, I stumbled onto this question--and it's had me in a tailspin ever since.

The speaker made a doctrinal statement with which I completely disagreed, and I muttered under my breath, "What authority do you have to make such a statement?"; and then, of course, I was forced to ask myself, "What authority do I have to disagree?". I had never before asked such a question, and I quickly realized that I, as a lifelong evangelical, had no acceptable answer.

The issue I had aroused, much by mistake, was the issue of the Authority of Interpretation. And one year later, I still have not come to a satisfactory conclusion.

What is the traditional protestant answer to the question of Interpretive Authority? To whom or what do we as protestants look for definitive interpretive guidance? By what agreed upon authority can a protestant declare one Biblical interpretation to be heretical and another to be
acceptable?

Other than the traditional protestant responses, what are your personal thoughts?

Any help would be appreciated. If you could even point me in the direction of some good books, I'd be grateful.


The short answer is that protestants look at particulars in the Biblical text as the determiner and arbiter on interpretation questions. Often however, tradition plays a significant role as well, but I think we need to challenge our traditions by the text. If you are interested in a more nuanced analysis of this question the attachment explains how I do interpretation with the charts on the last pages summarizing the view.

Hope this helps. Dr. Kennard




(this is Chris again) - if you'd like a copy of the attachment he sent, just mention it in the comments section; I'll be happy to pass it along.

July 17, 2008

Sola Scriptura - What's Your Take?


The title of this blog-site is deliberately misleading; I only wish I was confirmed about my own theological beliefs. The nature of my blog is biographical and not intentionally argumentative. With that understanding, I would like perspective on a few questions I have regarding the doctrine of sola scriptura. Rant, cuss, persuade - I'd like to know what others are feeling on the subject.
  1. How do you understand the doctrine of sola scriptura?
  2. Do you see any shortcomings in the doctrine? If so, what are they?
  3. If you accept the doctrine, how do you reconcile it with the multiplicity of differing theological systems - at least those that operate under the doctrine of sola scriptura?
I'm honestly not looking for a fight; these are questions I have asked myself, and I've not been 100% satisfied with my answers.

July 13, 2008

Westminster Confession - Part 2

3. The books commonly called Apocrypha, not being of divine inspiration, are no part of the canon of the Scripture, and therefore are of no authority in the Church of God, nor to be any otherwise approved, or made use of, than other human writings.

Clearly, the Westminster Assembly either a) used their own authority or b) appealed to some other authority to determine that the deuterocanonical books are not "of divine inspiration". That Maccabees, Tobit, and other "apocryphal" books are so named, rests squarely on the shoulders of some authority under which the Assembly operated.

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So who is this authority? Their answer comes in the next two points.

4. The authority of the Holy Scripture, for which it ought to be believed, and obeyed, depends not upon the testimony of any man, or Church; but wholly upon God (who is truth itself) the author thereof: and therefore it is to be received, because it is the Word of God.

5. ...our full persuasion and assurance of the infallible truth and divine authority thereof, is from the inward work of the Holy Spirit bearing witness by and with the Word in our hearts.

In honor of my friend, Rachel Held Evans, I call this "playing the God Card" in the game of scriptural interpretation. I agree that God alone can interpret Scripture; the problem lies with the last three words of point #5, "in our hearts". The traditional understanding before the Protestant Reformation was that God revealed the truth of the Scriptures through His Church - that is, through those leaders who were spiritually descended from the Apostles. Now, everyday Christians have just as much a right to make interpretive claims as the most educated Biblical scholars.

So what happens when anyone can interpret scripture for him or herself? You get an explosion of denominations like we now see in the Protestant world. Baptists, Presbyterians, Methodists, Pentecostals, Bible Churches, Church of God, Church of Christ, Lutheran, Anglican, and many many more. Most, if not all, of these denominations now have daughter groups of their own which have splintered off over typically minor - though sometimes major, admittedly - doctrinal issues.

And every single one of these groups claims to be following the Holy Spirit's interpretation of Scripture. I am amazed that the Holy Spirit would say so many different things to different faith communities.

July 11, 2008

The Canon Question


I have recently come across a succinct explanation of the sola scriptura doctrine under which I was raised. I regret that I was unable to find any helpful clarification from the Southern Baptist website, but the following excerpts from the Westminster Confession of Faith plainly state the doctrine as held by most Protestant Christians.

You can find the full confession here: http://www.pcanet.org/general/cof_contents.htm

I am reacting to only one point today for lack of time, and to keep things readable for those of us with internet attention spans.

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From CHAP. I. - Of the Holy Scripture. of the Westminster Confession of Faith.

2. Under the name of Holy Scripture, or the Word of God written, are now contained all the books of the Old and New Testaments, which are these…(then lists the 66 books with which all Protestants are familiar)

This is one concept I had always taken for granted, and, until recently, it did not occur to me to ask what should have been an obvious question: "how do we know which books are 'inspired'?" In all of my Precept Bible studies, I never once read a passage that refers to the other books of the Bible. There is no list in the Bible detailing which books belong there. In fact, there is not even a good description of how to determine which books should be there.

We have the 66 books of the Bible today because a group of Church leaders met in the 4th century to decide which books should be there. In other words, the Church universal exercised its authority to canonize the various texts of the Holy Word. Thus, when we proclaim the notion of sola scriptura, we neglect the original authority of Church leaders that put together that Scripture. In other words, sola scriptura is simply impossible. The very texts of Scripture were canonized by the authority of the Church, making every Scriptural passage - and thereby every interpretation of it - subservient to the authority that proclaimed it to be the Word of God.

I will do my best to examine more points from this section of the Confession in the near future.

July 7, 2008

Just How Firm is this Foundation?

Many people would have been excited by the prospect of discovering a new idea for himself; I was simply bitter. I think what bothered me most was the notion that so plain an idea as this had not presented itself to me earlier. From that crappy Sunday on, I have asked myself two questions:
  1. Why didn't you think of this sooner?
  2. Why didn't anyone ever tell you this?
Both questions were equally frustrating.

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So I had learned to ask not, "Whose interpretation of scripture is the right one?," rather to ask, "Who has the authority to make an interpretive claim regarding scripture?"

This is a question I had never asked before in regard to my faith, though I had operated under the same principle in other areas of my life. For example, in school I depended on the authority of the teacher to make truth claims. Now, I'm not denying the possibility that the teacher could have been factually incorrect, but when test time rolled around, I knew that the "correctness" of the teacher had no bearing on how she would grade my test. Indeed, my only concern was to answer the questions in the way she had prescribed in earlier lessons. The teacher had the authority to tell me how to answer the test questions.

I also soon realized that, though I had never been taught this directly, I had always been taught a certain interpretation of Christianity by way of a spiritual authority held either by my parents, my pastor, or my faith community. This authority structure, however, is typically down-played in protestant denominations; the more acceptable answer - the one I had been taught - on the "authority to interpret scripture" is generally given as this:

The Holy Spirit is the sole arbiter of scriptural interpretation. You, as a born-again believer, have the Holy Spirit living in you. Therefore, you personally have the authority to interpret scripture if you listen to the Holy Spirit's guidance.

It's the final part of this statement that is the main difficulty: "if you listen to the Holy Spirit's guidance". This begs the questions, "how do I know I'm listening?," and the harder question, "how do I know my pastor is listening?"

It didn't take long to accept that any interpretation is possible under the ruse of divine guidance. Historically, I would now argue that most, perhaps all, of the world's silliest Christian-based cults are derived solely on the basis of one man's or one woman's "personal inspiration". Not to step on toes, but Joseph Smith, Ellen White, David Koresh and other famous cult leaders all claim to have had some divine vision that lead them to the creation of their respective cults. The doctrine I was taught, is the very doctrine that validates the existence of these para-Christian groups. Mormons or Mooninites have as much a valid claim on scripture as do I if I make my "personal inspiration" the key to interpretive authority.

I understood that this concept of "personal inspiration" served only to confuse the issue, particularly in light of the many, diverse scriptural interpretations of faith communities, all of whom claim the Holy Spirit's guidance. This claim is simply not sufficient to make an authoritative interpretive claim on scripture and Christian living. Something more is needed, and I would spend the next three years asking that same question:

"Who has the authority to make an interpretive claim regarding scripture?"

July 1, 2008

The Pot and the Kettle

We had just moved to south Florida. Among the countless other tasks to be performed when setting up a new life in a strange, distant land (both very good descriptions of south Florida), we committed ourselves to finding a church home. We visited too many churches; I'm sure that contributed to the spiritual mess I was about to find myself in.

On one Sunday, we visited the First Christian Church. It was one of those churches that looks either like a gymnasium or a rock-concert venue: the service reminded me of both.

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I was squirming in my seat throughout the service. As a fairly recent convert to "reformed" theology, I had become sensitive to a few key distinctive doctrines of that tradition:
  • soteriological determination (or at least that special brand usually attributed to John Calvin)
  • an amillenial eschatology
  • sola-scriptura (which, not incidentally, is not unique to the "reformed" tradition of protestantism)
  • and others
I actually can't remember the exact passage of scripture the preacher was addressing that morning, but his use of it rubbed me the wrong way. It may actually have been his Old Navy sweater, or his gelled hair, or the simple obscenity of watching a 40-year old man dress and act like a teenager, but for consistency's sake, I'll say it was the sermon.

"What right do you have to make that interpretation?", I grumbled to myself. As soon as the words had filled my closed mouth, I heard a squeeky voice utter, like an echo, "And what right do you have, sir?" Now, why my inner voice would address me as "sir" I've never been able to figure out; I must have a deep respect for myself.

Well, that got me flustered. I had just rained on my own parade, and I was grumpy for the rest of the day. There were no two ways about it; in one fateful fit of grouchiness, I had uncovered a sneaky truth about sciptural interpretation. When I questioned the preacher's authority to interpret that passage of scripture, I doomed myself to asking the same question of myself, my faith community, and all of the spiritual giants I had come to respect.

The problem, in brief: The Bible, as any text, must be interpreted. If I am searching for the "valid" or "authentic" interpretation of that text, I need to go one step further and look also for the authority behind any interpretive claim. In questioning the preacher's authority to interpret scripture, I was simply reverting to my own authority which is a terrible idea in any situation. I have such a low level of Biblical training that it was just silly for me to take my word over his.

Now, to be honest, my own interpretations of scripture were rooted in an old (not ancient - there is an important difference) tradition, so it could be said that "my" authority was actually based on the authority of that tradition (which is much safer, I think). However, having grown up in a non-reformed tradition (Southern Baptist, for you nosy readers), I had already used what was genuinely my own authority to say, in essence:

"The southern baptist interpretation of scripture is not valid because I now understand scripture in these few passages to mean 'x' instead of 'y'."

The switch to "reformed" theology was predicated on my own understanding of scripture. My views happened to align with that tradition; it is important that the shift did not occur in the other way 'round.

The first step of my journey had just been taken. I felt like a bird pushed out of his nest by sinister parents.