Conversion

I remember it vividly. I was standing in the kitchen of my friends’ rental house in college. I’m not sure what provoked it, but I remember saying with firm, sanctified conviction, “I will never become Catholic.”

My one and only close, Catholic friend replied jokingly “Well, we can’t all be perfect.”

In all honesty, my statement was probably unmerited and unprovoked. I was probably saying it as a witness to my friend and for the edification of the others around me — or some such other sanctimonious reason. And despite my friend’s humorous response, the subject was extremely serious to me. Become Catholic? The poor souls. I was happy in my Reformed world. I was growing spiritually, chasing holiness, deepening in my prayer life and theological knowledge. On my way to Heaven, which I was confident I would get to. I was one of the predestined and nothing could tear me away from God. Become Catholic? They had a tenuous connection with Jesus, at best. I believed the maxim that Catholics, if they went to Heaven, would get there not because of but in spite of the Catholic Church.

That was me, circa 2009. On Easter vigil 2012, I entered the Catholic Church.

Many of the points that eventually won me over are common among most Catholic converts: Church unity, true historical Christianity and giving up the “final buck,” or admitting that you can’t be your own theologian. These all played huge roles in my conversion, but in the end, what pushed me over the edge was actually feminism. In a personal crisis, where I found myself at odds with my family and church’s faith, I gave a desperate cry for freedom and security as a woman, and found it in the Church.

Before I get to that, though, I’ll just start from the beginning.

It all began with that Catholic friend who I mentioned above. We became very close one summer, and it wasn’t long before I realized I was attracted to him. Unfortunately for him, though, he was Catholic, and I was Reformed Protestant. Because I could never date a Catholic, I decided to convert him. But what began with great optimism on my side quickly dwindled into cautious optimism and then utter confusion.

I tried the Scripture angle. Pointing out passages in Ephesians and Romans. To my surprise, though, my friend had rebuttals for all of my Scripture-based arguments. I was shocked that such classic apologetics verses such as Romans 8 and Ephesians 2 could understandably fit into an interpretation other than mine. For example, Ephesians 2:8 says, “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—” This had seemed like the silver bullet against the Catholic Church’s obviously “works-based” system. My friend explained, though, that Catholics also believe that salvation is by grace, through faith. And to boot, the following verse: “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works,” actually fit better in the Catholic system. As a TULIP Christian, I heartily believed that we were utterly depraved, even after salvation. Except that afterwards, we were covered with the white robe of Christ. As Martin Luther so eloquently put it, we are dung heaps with a thick top layer of white snow. But if we were still dung heaps, how could we accomplish good works? A Calvinist believes that the Christian’s works can not be good before God’s eyes. Only God is good.

And so I began to question myself. Only slightly, at first. I was confident I could get through these obstacles. But as my misconceptions about the Catholic Church fell away, so did my hostility. Slowly, my prayer for my friend’s conversion became a prayer for us to both reach truth, and then, for me to reach the truth.

One of the first things to really bother me was church disunity. I came from a very serious, Reformed church. We were very serious about following Scripture, no questions. They were good people. But, there weren’t very many of us. One unique conviction we had as a body of four families, was our stance on the Sabbath. We continued to believe that all work should be barred on the Sabbath, including giving business on the Sabbath and partaking in activities that caused others to work. This conviction caused me much grief once I left for college, as I quickly discovered that I was the only one, even among other Reformed friends, who thought this way. The isolation and loneliness I felt because of it, at first, encouraged me. I thought I was being a martyr for truth. But as I became aware of how disjointed Protestantism was and how unified the Catholic Church’s moral teaching was, I worried. In a paradigm where everyone who has the Holy Spirit is capable of reaching truth on their own, why was it that I was the only one who had found the truth of the Sabbath commandment? My isolation became even more obvious when I spent a semester abroad in China. Yes, there were Christians there, but still no one like me.

My doubts and questions blossomed. I began to read about how the Bible was formed, how early theologians interpreted it in regards to justification and salvation. And I realized more and more how different my Christianity and interpretive lens was from many obviously Christian men. I was scandalized when I realized that Augustine’s Bible and the Scriptures that the apostles and Jesus quoted from (the Septuagint) were the Catholic canon and not mine. I was even more scandalized when I realized that the Deuterocanonical books had been consistently used throughout all of history and even continued to be printed in Protestant Bibles by Bible Societies until groups like the Puritans and Scottish Presbyterians complained enough to get them thrown out completely. The Anglican Church continued to have readings from the Apocrypha past the Reformation too. Yet most Protestants couldn’t tell you the name of one of the books, much less tell you that they’d ever read it. I began to feel cheated out of a lot of good Christian history. My changing feelings in regards to my ongoing research soon became apparent to my family and church. And this is where an angry feminist emerged.

I say “angry feminist,” but I wasn’t feminist in a secular sense. I still sought to be submissive. But I began to wonder if my conscience could submit to the doctrine and teaching that I had loved for so long but now found myself at terrible odds with. For starters, by this point (1.5 years into my research), I had just begun dating my Catholic friend. I had personally become convinced that he was a true Christian. That was a real question for me, and while I eventually decided that there was no way he couldn’t be, even granting his monergistic Catholic view of salvation, my father, and especially my pastor were convinced otherwise. In dating him, I was “unequally yoked,” and disobeying God. Furthermore, my refusal to submit to my pastor and my father’s convictions was also disobedient, and it got me banned from Communion.

I found myself in a shocking situation. My father had never been overbearing, and he had never really proactively taught that daughters must always submit to their fathers. Yet here I was, in my early 20’s, and my father was expecting and hoping me to simply obey him, even when my convictions were different from his. (In his defense, though, he found the situation shocking as well. And although he wanted me to listen to him, and sort of thought I should as his daughter, he never demanded it.) As for my church situation, I was aware of church discipline and in agreement with it, but I never thought I would be the receiver.

So here I was in a bind. I wanted to still be obedient to Scripture. And as I searched Scripture for guidance on who I should listen to and obey, I found passages that seemed to point to submission to parents and church leaders. 1 Cor. 14:34-35 comes to mind. It says, “³⁴ Women^[a] should remain silent in the churches. They are not allowed to speak, but must be in submission, as the law says. ³⁵ If they want to inquire about something, they should ask their own husbands at home; for it is disgraceful for a woman to speak in the church.” And Hebrews 13:17 says, “Obey your leaders and submit to their authority. They keep watch over you as men who must give an account. Obey them so that their work will be a joy, not a burden, for that would be of no advantage to you.” And of course there is Ephesians 5 which says wives must submit to husbands. And husbands must sanctify their wives.

It all seemed to point towards a woman listening to the man, who had to listen to his pastor. But if the father or husband gets to pick what church, what pastor and what theology, then the woman is left without any recourse. Her conscience could potentially be bound to the conscience of her man, all while living in a tradition that claims no one can bind your conscience except Scripture.

Of course this could really only be problematic if the father or husband is demanding, overbearing, unyielding etc. But even if he isn’t, what happens when a genuine difference in conscience comes up? Who do you turn to when the church and pastor can change, and those who don’t even claim to be infallible, claim to make infallible pronouncements on your conscience? I felt cornered.

By this point I was well-acquainted with the claim the Catholic Church makes in her infallibility and consistency, her clarity in doctrine and teaching that if you are Catholic, you by default, submit to what she binds. So with my ongoing personal crisis of submission, She looked more and more like a safe haven, a place where my conscience was truly equal with anyone else’s in my life. If I were in her fold, I would always have someone to go to to protect my conscience as a woman. And anyone who tried to tell me otherwise, would have to answer to the Church first.

When I came to this conclusion, I had also concluded that her teachings on justification, prayer to the saints, divorce, contraception etc. were beautiful. But with the belief in her unwavering authority, I also found safety. And my angry, submissive feminism found a home.

 

I’ve Decided

I couldn’t deny it anymore. I thought like them, felt like them, wanted to be them. It has been decided. I am Catholic.

I thought solely and seriously about the question for 6 months, holed away in a foreign country, with nothing but an old sense of anguished loyalty to tie me to my former Christian tradition. I will have to write a full account later, but as a summary, I will say that by the end, I had no choice. One by one my questions and issues with the Catholic faith fell. Salvation, free will, justification, forgiveness of sins, marriage and divorce, contraception, even Mary. I was shocked that I found myself agreeing with just about every tenet of the Catholic faith. Shocked even more that it was simply because it all made so much stinkin’ sense. It was so thorough, so complete, so lovely, so…right. When I realized I was no longer Protestant, I knew I was Catholic.

I’m currently in an RCIA class, and will enter the Church Easter of this year.

Womanhood

I have recently been struggling quite a bit with the notion of Christian womanhood. When I say “quite a bit,” what I really mean is “a lot.” I used to be quite content with the role given to woman. God’s creation has order, and woman is just part of the order. As a human, she is not less in God’s sight than a man, but as a woman, she simply has different roles, as does the man.

Ephesians 5:23-33 says, “23For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. 24Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything. 25Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her 26to make her holy, cleansing^b her by the washing with water through the word, 27and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. 28In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. 29After all, no one ever hated his own body, but he feeds and cares for it, just as Christ does the church— 30for we are members of his body. 31“For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.”^c 32This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church. 33However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband.”

Obviously, the man is called to lead and love his wife as if he were Christ leading and loving the Church. The woman is called to follow and respect her husband, just as the Church follows and respects Christ, its head. Admittedly, when man and woman act according to their roles, the world runs smoother. There are no violent disagreements, stubborn insubordination; the family makes unified decisions and acts like a well-run corporation where there is no confusion or filibustering on family policies.

But what happens when there is a genuine disagreement on a matter of no little worth? I’m not talking about disagreements over what color to paint the kitchen, how much money to spend on the new car or even disagreements on where to live in the world or what jobs to take. I do admit, there must be a level of cooperation, grace and in the end, if necessary, submission. (I will say, though, the man is a fool and unloving if he does not most seriously listen to and consider his wife’s input and opinions on matters, especially since its her family and relationship, too.)

But the issues I’m talking about are issues of conscience. What if the man and woman disagree on a matter of conviction? Sometimes, such disagreements never result in any real-life conflict. And sometimes, it’s not too much to act in accord on an issue of conscience, even if one party does not have the same convictions. (i.e. Sabbath issues: if one spouse is convicted they shouldn’t give business on Sundays and the other spouse has no conviction, it’s conceivable that they agree to not shop or go to restaurants on the Sabbath for the sake of the one’s conscience.)

But what about the other times? Is the woman called on to submit her conscience to the man’s? Ephesians seems to make clear that the husband is to guide and teach the wife, cleansing her with the washing of the word. Likewise, in 1 Cor. 14:34-35 it says, “³⁴ Women^[a] should remain silent in the churches. They are not allowed to speak, but must be in submission, as the law says. ³⁵ If they want to inquire about something, they should ask their own husbands at home; for it is disgraceful for a woman to speak in the church.” So, it seems that the order of things is that the woman and man need to have a strong theological and spiritual relationship, with the man leading and occupying a position of respect in the woman’s eyes.

So what does this mean for the woman? Is her conscience at the mercy of her husband’s or her father’s? If that were the case, I will honestly say that I have no desire to continue as a woman. For what this boils down to is the bleak existence of a female who is not allowed to believe and act on her own convictions. If on any case she disagrees with her husband on what is right and what is wrong, it is her conviction that must be tossed. Of course, many husbands and fathers might calmly and rationally hear their wives and daughters’ opinions and arguments on things, and even some might tell their wife or daughter that it is fine for her to believe such and such. However, if it were to ever become a practical issue of real-world conflict, the Bible seems to be saying that the wife ought to submit to her husband “as the Church submits to Christ.”

Thankfully, the Bible is full of exhortations to everyone to submit to one another. In Ephesians 5, just before the passage about wives submitting to husbands, Paul also tells everyone to submit one to another. Also, the man of the house is not his own king. Of course he is called on to submit to Christ, but he is also called on to submit to the leadership of the church. Hebrews 13:17 says, “Obey your leaders and submit to their authority. They keep watch over you as men who must give an account. Obey them so that their work will be a joy, not a burden, for that would be of no advantage to you.”

So there seems to be an order emerging here. Christ is over all; church leaders are over congregations; men are then over women; with all being humble. But what would this order mean in a Protestant paradigm? Logically, in this order of things, the woman can always seek the authority of the church over her and her husband if she feels her husband is mistaken in some matter. And in the order of things, the husband must listen to the church. But in the Protestant paradigm, individuals join churches based on their own convictions. Protestant churches also give much more freedom to the individual to decide their own consciences on matters not decided on by the church. In the Protestant paradigm, no one can bind the individual’s conscience except the individual. After all, that was Luther’s grand defense.

So what does this leave a poor, Protestant girl to do? She might, after all, have a nice, reasonable husband or father, who isn’t overbearing or “black and white” on every single issue. But I’ll ask again, what happens when that “real-world” conflict comes up?

Honestly speaking, I have been in one of those conflicts, and it is not fun. You feel as if you’re fighting everything good in the world — your father, your church, the Bible. Your conscience fights, and if, in the end, it is different from your father or your church, then it seems you are fighting against the Bible. And you have no recourse, no court of appeals. Poor, poor womanhood! Resigned forever to the consciences of those who require submission yet readily admit they are not binding!

Unless, perhaps, a woman could appeal to something that claimed to be the interpretive and binding authority over faith and morals. Her conscience wouldn’t then be submitted to the consciences of the individuals who happened to be in her life.

By Faith Alone?

I was recently posed the question (by a very serious father) of whether or not I believe that Justification is by grace alone through faith alone in Christ alone, as I had been taught since my youth. I suppose that’s one of my main issues here. So obviously, the answer is: I don’t know. However, I do know at least one thing. And that is: I can not stake salvation on the intellectual assent of the Faith Alone doctrine, for to do so would exclude too many of Christianity’s great fathers and doctors.

Let me draw a few examples.

Thomas Aquinas, although thought of suspiciously by Martin Luther for his scholastic tendencies, is heralded by the present-day Reformed church pillar, R.C. Sproul. Sproul calls him a “hero of the Christian faith,” and has written about him on his ministry’s blog, Ligonier. One could safely assume that as being heralded a “hero of the Christian faith,” Sproul would also believe Aquinas is a Christian. However, Aquinas did most certainly not believe in justification by faith alone, at least as Luther would have defined it. Aquinas was very much a “Roman Catholic.” A brief reading of just one fundamental doctrinal issue will reveal this.

• Forgiveness of Sins
  •  In Reformed theology, all sins past, present and future are forgiven at the point of justification, through faith alone. However, Aquinas supported the Catholic sacrament of Penance/Confession for the forgiveness of sins, and defended the Catholic division of temporal and eternal punishment for sin. In Article 4 of Question 86 in Summa Theologica’s Third part, Aquinas states that there does still remain punishment due even after true repentance and confession of sins. He cites 2 Sam. 12:13-14 as an illustration. He says that just as God still required the death of King David and Bathsheba’s son even after God had forgiven David, so too is there still a temporal punishment due for our sins.
  • Two of the objections made to the question of whether there remains any guilt after Confession sound very Protestant. One is that the “gift of Christ is more effective than the sin of Adam.” B/c the gift of grace is so much greater than Adam’s sin, it follows that when we truly repent (Penance), grace is more than enough to cover all guilt and debt of punishment. Aquinas replies, though: “… the forgiveness of guilt and of the debt of eternal punishment belongs to operating grace, while the remission of the debt of temporal punishment belongs to co-operating grace, in so far as man, by bearing punishment patiently with the help of Divine grace, is released also from the debt of temporal punishment. Consequently just as the effect of operating grace precedes the effect of co-operating grace, so too, the remission of guilt and of eternal punishment precedes the complete release from temporal punishment, since both are from grace, but the former, from grace alone, the latter, from grace and free-will.”
  • In the above, Aquinas is asserting that full forgiveness for the guilt and the eternal punishment due to every sin committed (eternal death) is forgiven by mere true repentance (known as Penance to Aquinas), but even after the eternal guilt is forgiven through Christ’s sacrifice, there still remains something left to be done by man. This temporal debt is paid through God’s grace working/cooperating with the individual.
  • Any Reformed person would scream heresy at such an idea as this. Not only is Aquinas saying man must cooperate with God’s grace for the forgiveness of part of the debt of his sins, but implicitly, Aquinas is also saying that the initial point of faith does not cover all past, present and future sins; Aquinas says people need to continue to seek forgiveness even after being “born again,” which Aquinas would actually say is the point of Baptism, i.e. baptismal regeneration.

Baptismal Regeneration actually brings me to my next early church Father: Augustine.

Augustine, without a doubt, has been heralded by Christians of every generation and every creed, as a trusted Christian witness. Augustine, like Aquinas, believed in baptismal regeneration. In fact, in fighting the Pelagians, he reasoned that all men must be born with original sin b/c that was, after all, why the Church baptized infants – in order to remove their original sin. In writing against the Pelagians, Augustine says in Book 3 Chapter 8 of On Merit and the Forgiveness of Sins, and on the Baptism of Infants, “… –absolutely clear in the light of God, and absolutely certain by His authority,–does not truth proclaim without ambiguity, that unbaptized infants not only cannot enter into the kingdom of God, but cannot have everlasting life, except in the body of Christ, in order that they may be incorporated into which they are washed in the sacrament of baptism? Does not truth, without any dubiety, testify that for no other reason are they carried by pious hands to Jesus (that is, to Christ, the Saviour and Physician), than that they may be healed of the plague of their sin by the medicine of His sacraments?”

If Justification is by faith alone, and such a doctrine is so clearly revealed in Scripture as to merit it the distinction of articulus stantis et cadentis ecclesiae, or the “doctrine by which the church stands or falls,” then why does a Christian as strong as Augustine assert the necessity of the sacrament of Baptism to heal the plague of sin and cleanse away original sin? Furthermore, in contrast with the Reformed doctrine of extra nos imputation of Righteousness, Augustine believed and lived by a doctrine of infusion. Bryan Cross, at Called to Communion, put together an amazing selection of passages from 13 of Augustine’s writings that map out Augustine’s view on the question of where our Righteousness comes from. I selected a few passages from Cross’s collection, all of which happen to come from Augustine’s On the Spirit and the Letter, written in A.D. 412.

In the below quotes, Augustine is writing against the Pelagians who believed that man could attain Righteousness, i.e. Justification, before God through their own efforts. The Pelagians did not deny the existence of grace, though. Rather, they said that God’s grace was found in the law and in man’s original nature. Augustine refutes them by saying that Righteousness is attained by God’s grace shedding love or agape in our hearts, making us love God’s law rather than fear its punishment, and thereby fulfill the law by love. In Augustine’s eyes, being saved by faith and not by works does not mean that all works count as nothing. To Augustine, works count, but only when brought on through God’s freely given grace that grants faith and love of God and His Righteousness, and thus the ability to truly fulfill God’s law.

“For in this letter of mine we have not undertaken to expound this epistle [i.e. Romans], but only mainly on its authority, to demonstrate, so far as we are able, that we are assisted by divine aid towards the achievement of righteousness — not merely because God has given us a law full of good and holy precepts, but because our very will without which we cannot do any good thing, is assisted and elevated by the importation of the Spirit of grace, without which help mere teaching is “the letter that kills,” (2 Cor 3:6) forasmuch as it rather holds them guilty of transgression, than justifies the ungodly. (chapter 20)”

Here, Augustine asserts that the law, by itself, is “the letter that kills.” But through God’s grace our will is healed and aided in the fulfillment of Righteousness. Below, Augustine points out the difference between the law of works and the law of faith:

“What the difference between them [i.e. the law of works and the law of faith] is, I will briefly explain. What the law of works enjoins by menace, that the law of faith secures by faith. The one [i.e. the law of works] says, “You shall not covet;” (Ex 20:17) the other [i.e. the law of faith] says, “When I perceived that nobody could be continent, except God gave it to him; and that this was the very point of wisdom, to know whose gift she was; I approached unto the Lord, and I besought Him.” (Wisdom 8:21) This indeed is the very wisdom which is called piety, in which is worshipped “the Father of lights, from whom is every best giving and perfect gift.” (James 1:17) This worship, however, consists in the sacrifice of praise and giving of thanks, so that the worshipper of God boasts not in himself, but in Him. (2 Cor 10:17) Accordingly, by the law of works, God says to us, Do what I command you; but by the law of faith we say to God, Give me what You command. Now this is the reason why the law gives its command — to admonish us what faith ought to do, that is, that he to whom the command is given, if he is as yet unable to perform it, may know what to ask for; but if he has at once the ability, and complies with the command, he ought also to be aware from whose gift the ability comes. (chapter 22)”

Here Augustine says that living by the law of faith means you live according to God’s law knowing that all obedience comes from God. He does not say, on the contrary, that faith throws out the necessity of keeping God’s law, nor does he say that we are counted as having fulfilled the law through a faith without works. But faith is from God’s grace, and likewise, the ability to love and fulfill the law is through grace. This is what is means to be saved through faith for Augustine.

“For the Gentiles, which followed not after righteousness, have attained to righteousness, even the righteousness which is by faith, (Rom 9:30) — by obtaining it of God, not by assuming it of themselves. But Israel, which followed after the law of righteousness, has not attained to the law of righteousness. And why? Because they sought it not by faith, but as it were by works (Rom 9:31-32) — in other words, working it out as it were by themselves, not believing that it is God who works within them. For it is God which works in us both to will and to do of His own good pleasure. (Philippians 2:13) And hereby they stumbled at the stumbling-stone. (Rom 9:32) For what he said, not by faith, but as it were by works, (Rom 9:32) he most clearly explained in the following words: “They, being ignorant of God’s righteousness, and going about to establish their own righteousness, have not submitted themselves unto the righteousness of God. For Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believes.” (Rom 10:3-4) Then are we still in doubt what are those works of the law by which a man is not justified, if he believes them to be his own works, as it were, without the help and gift of God, which is by the faith of Jesus Christ? And do we suppose that they are circumcision and the other like ordinances, because some such things in other passages are read concerning these sacramental rites too? In this place, however, it is certainly not circumcision which they wanted to establish as their own righteousness, because God established this by prescribing it Himself. Nor is it possible for us to understand this statement, of those works concerning which the Lord says to them, You reject the commandment of God, that you may keep your own tradition; (Mark 7:9) because, as the apostle says, Israel, which followed after the law of righteousness, has not attained to the law of righteousness. (Rom 9:31) He did not say, Which followed after their own traditions, framing them and relying on them. This then is the sole distinction, that the very precept, “You shall not covet,” (Ex 20:17) and God’s other good and holy commandments, they attributed to themselves; whereas, that man may keep them, God must work in him through faith in Jesus Christ, who is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believes. (Rom 10:4) That is to say, every one who is incorporated into Him and made a member of His body, is able, by His giving the increase within, to work righteousness. It is of such a man’s works that Christ Himself has said, “Without me you can do nothing.” (John 15:5) (chapter 50)”

Here Augustine says that those Jews who sought after a Righteousness of their own, yet did not attain it, were seeking Righteousness on their own abilities. They did not seek the grace that comes through faith in Christ and so freely gives us the ability to attain Righteousness. Even so, Christ is still said to attain the Righteousness for us, for it is only through faith in Him that we receive the grace from God to love His law, aspire to fulfill it and indeed have the ability, at all, for any of this.

Now, none of this is to necessarily say that Aquinas or Augustine were right in their theologies. The only point of this is to show that these men who are heralded as heroes of the Christian faith did not hold to the Reformation’s doctrine of Faith Alone. To exclude people on the basis of whether or not they hold to the Faith Alone doctrine is to exclude some of the greatest Christian minds known to the universal church. I suppose people could still draw the line on this doctrine, look at people like Augustine and Aquinas and conclude that these men could not have been Christian. But that is a line I do not think I dare to draw.

Credited as Righteousness

It has been invigorating/alarming to me how I have recently begun to think of faith and works and their relationship in a new way. I mean new in that it is new for me. It is not a new way as regards the history of the church. However, I am not quite sure that I am fully convinced.

Let me explain…

As I have come to understand it, the difference between the Reformed and Catholic doctrines on the role of faith and works lies with their respective views on justification and sanctification. Reformed believe that there is a sharp difference b/w the two. Sanctification has nothing to do with justification. Once you are justified through faith in the all-sufficient, substitutionary atonement sacrifice of Jesus Christ, it is “accomplished and applied.” (See John Murray’s book, Redemption Accomplished and Applied) However, in the Catholic paradigm, sanctification is still very much a part of your justification. It is Christ’s sacrifice that attains the forgiveness of all sins, and it is God’s grace that draws us to Him and offers us faith and love. It is always Christ’s sacrifice that forgives our sins, but it is the grace and faith given to us that attains our righteousness before God. Christ’s sacrifice of love wins over God’s forgiveness and grace so that “we might become the righteousness of God.” (2 Cor. 5:21).

Now, in the Reformed doctrine, individuals are not credited or seen as righteous before God. Christ is their righteousness; their white robe that covers over the sin and imperfection that still exists within them. However, a few Bible verses I have been thinking over seem to hint otherwise.

The first and most obvious passage is Gen. 15:6, which says that Abram believed God and it “was credited to him as righteousness.” Paul, in his letter to the Romans, uses Abraham’s example to demonstrate that righteousness comes through faith and not through works of the law: ” ¹ What then shall we say that Abraham, our forefather according to the flesh, discovered in this matter? ² If, in fact, Abraham was justified by works, he had something to boast about—but not before God. ³ What does Scripture say? “Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness.”^{[a]  4} Now to the one who works, wages are not credited as a gift but as an obligation. ⁵ However, to the one who does not work but trusts God who justifies the ungodly, their faith is credited as righteousness. ” (Rom. 4:1-5)

I have read some Catholics as explaining that Paul is mainly just talking about works of the Jewish law, like circumcision, and certainly enough, Paul goes on just after his speech about Abraham to talk about circumcision and how the Gospel is both for the circumcised and uncircumcised. But, anyway, back to the point.

Another relevant passage is in James 2. James references the same exact passage from Genesis and like Paul, he brings out Abraham’s section. James emphasizes Abraham’s faith in a separate way, though, he says, ” ²⁰ You foolish person, do you want evidence that faith without deeds is useless^[d]? ²¹ Was not our father Abraham considered righteous for what he did when he offered his son Isaac on the altar? ²² You see that his faith and his actions were working together, and his faith was made complete by what he did. ²³ And the scripture was fulfilled that says, “Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness,”^[e] and he was called God’s friend. ²⁴ You see that a person is considered righteous by what they do and not by faith alone.”

There are other passages, such as Psalm 106:30-32, that talk of men being credited with righteousness: “³⁰ But Phinehas stood up and intervened, and the plague was checked. ³¹ This was credited to him as righteousness for endless generations to come. ³² And also Deut. 24:13, “¹³ Return their cloak by sunset so that your neighbor may sleep in it. Then they will thank you, and it will be regarded as a righteous act in the sight of the LORD your God. ”

Now, from all these verses, it seems clear that righteousness is being reckoned to us, either faith is seen as righteous or some act, like returning a cloak or, you know, killing a lot of sinning people like Phineas. This reckoning, coupled with the cleansing act of God’s forgiveness seems to logically leave room for an individual to actually “become righteous,” like 2 Cor. 5:21 says.

When the Bible speaks of God’s forgiveness, its couched in terms of real washing and real purity. For example: Ps. 51:7,  “Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.” Isaiah 1:18, “”Come now, let us reason together,” says the LORD. “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.” Ezekial 36:25, “I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean; I will cleanse you from all your impurities and from all your idols.”

Now, if after forgiveness (whether it’s once-for-all, or continuing) we are left pure, clean and “as white as snow,” then what we have left is faith and the actions that accompany it. And according to God’s own words, faith is credited as righteousness. Credited to who? Well, to us, I would suppose. None of this in any means implies that we, ourselves, are capable of righteousness without God or Christ. I am simply thinking that this could possibly imply that we actually become righteous, and can stand before God as righteous – NOT on our own abilities, but on the loving sacrifice of Christ where “God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.”

Final Thoughts on Sex

Can I trust what I am feeling and thinking right now? It seems I have traveled a whole spectrum of thought, from one slightly restrained extreme to the other slightly restrained extreme. I have been thinking of Catholicism now as being so much more robust, and actually magnificent, than I had ever imagined. Of course it’s not the average lay or even clerical Catholic’s Catholicism that I’m thinking of, but the pure and complete Catholicism of Augustine and Aquinas, even Benedict XVI.

Just recently, I think the Catholic Church’s position on sex just clicked. I was trying to find essays on how a Christian should approach issues like abortion in a totally non-Christian society. A logical thing to look up seemed to be Natural Law and see if abortion fell within those who argue from this perspective. Well, I stumbled across a very plain-written article by Janet Smith on Natural Law and Sexual Ethics. With such a title, and as a Catholic, she, of course, discusses contraception.

I have not quite been able to swallow the Catholic argument against all contraception – banning all abortifacients (which I understand), as well as non-invasive, non-abortifacient methods like condoms. My thought process has been that if a couple can practice Natural Family Planning, but can not use a non-abortifacient contraceptive, then what’s the difference? The difference only seemed to amount to using natural vs. artificial medicine for an illness – one seemed cleaner and more organic and so was deemed good, while the unnatural means were denounced as evil b/c they were just that: unnatural. However, I think I get it now. The whole natural vs. unnatural debate is precisely the point. I have found myself agreeing more and more with Natural Law philosophy. Debates on the sanctity of marriage and life can be argued from a Christian perspective in any arena from the philosophy of Natural Law. God’s commands are not burdensome; they are for our own, natural good. His commands are not random; they are commands and laws b/c that is how the world He has created works.

The same thing with sexuality. Man and woman were created for one another, including their sexual lives and natures. The passage from Smith’s article that literally made me stop and cry from a feeling of glorious enlightenment is this:

“I am going to say, that in spite of our modern practices and views about sexual responsibility, contraception is not a rational or natural act. In fact, I think that contraception is one of the great evils of modern times for it has been the fuel that has allowed the sexual revolution to rage. And the sexual revolution has led to the sexual chaos of our culture that I sketched earlier — millions of babies born out of wedlock, millions of divorces, tens of thousands dying from AIDS. And this chaos, as we know, leads to multiple other social ills.

The consequences of a contraceptive culture are abundantly clear to us. I think that once one ponders how unnatural contraception is, how out of accord with reality it is, the sexual chaos that characterizes our culture should not surprise us. Why would I say that contraception is not respecting the nature and reality of sexual intercourse? First, I simply ask you to consider the reality of contraceptives, what they do to a woman’s body. The “pill” is the most popular form of contraception. Furthermore, when does one generally take a “pill”? Obviously, when one is ill. But is fertility a sickness? Isn’t fertility, a healthy, natural condition? Doesn’t “The Pill” treat fertility as though it were an illness, a defect, not a natural good? …

The barrier methods of contraception begin to disclose another feature of contraception that is against the goods of sexual intercourse. They reveal that contraceptives not only work against babies, a natural and good outcome of sexual intercourse; they also work against the uniting and bonding of the sexual partners. The very name “barrier” is revealing. A couple wishes to make love, but first they must get their “barriers” in place. They may decide to use a good spermicide to kill whatever sperm may approach the egg. This action is saying “I want to love you and give myself to you and to receive you, but I want to kill any sperm that may penetrate my being” Is there not a discordant note of hostility now in act that is meant to be a loving act. Does not the rejection of one’s beloved’s fertility also mean a rejection of one’s beloved, as well, at least to some extent? All of contraception says, “I want to give myself to you and to receive you but I reject completely your fertility; it is not welcome here.”

Here is where Karol Wojtyla’s analysis of sexual ethics has made a major contribution. Wojtyla has written extensively on human sexuality; it is possible here to give only the briefest of sketches of his thought. He observes that male and female are made for each other. Each sex is really incomplete without the other; physically and psychically the sexes complete each other. The story told by Aristophanes in Plato’s Symposium comically portrays this reality. Aristophanes suggested that the first human beings at one time had two heads, four legs and arms, etc. They were then cut in half — one half male, another female and they spend an enormous amount of energy trying to reunite.

Wojtyla maintains that we have a deep and natural need to give ourselves to another person; to make ourselves whole by giving ourselves to another. He says that this giving is most completely performed in the sexual act between male and female, an act that is meant to express the deep commitment and desire for union that we feel and wish to express. Wojtyla says that the attempt to thwart the fertility of the sexual act means that one is withholding one’s fertility from the other — one is withholding something that belongs in the sexual act. To withhold it diminishes the meaning of the sexual act. One way of seeing Wojtyla’s point is to think of the difference between the phrases “I want to have sex with you” and “I am open to having babies with you.” The first phrase is one our culture utters with the greatest of casualness; contracepted sex is often engaged in with the same commitment that going out to dinner or playing tennis with another suggests — that is, not much. Being open to having a baby with another, however, bespeaks a very great commitment to another, the kind of commitment that should be made by those engaging in an act that might in fact result in a baby! It bespeaks the willingness to have one’s whole life entwined with another, to have breakfast together, to go to little league games, to plan weddings.

Again, I claim that contraception is at the center of this reality and a major contributor to it because it severs having sex from having babies and allows millions to participate in an act whose consequences they are not prepared to face. Millions are involved in relationships that are not prepared for the eventuality of a baby; when a baby is conceived, abortion or out-of-wedlock birth are the most common results. In my reading, contraception does not foster responsibility; it fosters irresponsibility by promoting the view that one needn’t be prepared to be a parent in order to have sexual intercourse responsibly.”

If I am to stand against things like homosexuality, abortion, or even murder and theft, it seems the most eloquent and complete philosophy to argue from is Natural Law. But at the same time, it seems that if that is my starting block, then I must necessarily end at the Catholic Church’s ban on all contraception. Otherwise, I am denying one of sex’s most natural elements: procreation.

Horror is usually the modern woman’s initial reaction to whispers of “no contraception.” Such medieval practices inhibit the empowered female’s right to work, to freedom and even to life. Yet when talking about my new-found conviction with a friend recently, I was surprised to find its defense roll smoothly off my tongue. I was even more surprised to find that it tasted much like a refreshing and joyous lick of honey.

My friends eyes grew wide as she told me about the terrible fates of Middle Eastern women she had met in a missionary trip, who were never taught anything about their sexual organs or cycles. It was such a taboo subject that some hospitals and medical schools had even stopped teaching anything about the reproductive system. These poor women were not allowed to use any contraceptive and were doomed to a life of baby-making – a fate that was sometimes severely detrimental to their physical health. In a moment of clarity, I promptly replied that the problem was not that the women could not use contraceptives, but that they and their husbands were not respecting sex. I silently gasped as I heard myself say that the husbands had a responsibility to respect the bodies and reproductive cycles of their wives. Sex is not a lust-fulfilling tool, even for married couples. Its purpose and nature (every aspect of it) needs to be respected and preserved to the best of both partner’s ability. I had read and heard the very same reasoning from Catholic sources before. Now I was propounding it myself.

My friend said she could understand that, and we moved on to the next subject. But as for myself, I think the conviction has stuck.

The Long Hiatus Explained

I have been completely away from this blog and many thoughts for the past four months. I do have an excuse, though! It was mainly school, along with its requisite projects and time demands. School is a demanding lover sometimes. I am finishing up school and the big projects now, though, and plan to return to this online journal of mine. Unfortunately, my questions have not been solved, and I still have much much more to think and pray about. I will begin as soon as able to post on this blog in order to keep track of my thoughts and mark my spiritual journey.

Do we even need infallibility?

Well, the title says it. Do we even need infallibility? The question is like a punch to my gut. The need to actually know, for sure, without a doubt, that something is true is what has driven me in this search of mine. What if we didn’t need it or weren’t promised it to begin with? All of this mental and emotional anguish I’ve been going through would all be for naught then… gosh, I’d feel pretty dumb for asking the questions to begin with. The punch in the gut.

Ah, so here is my tentative thesis. Each individual is responsible for the knowledge of the truth they possess. Bluntly speaking, however much they get right in regards to God is just a measure of their faith and love. After all, the promise this blog was begun on is stated in Jeremiah 29:11-13. It says that if you seek God with all your heart, you will find Him. And here is a list of references telling us that if we ask God for anything, it will be given us. The verses mention things like wisdom, but also seem to imply that the asker must be actively following and loving the Lord if he is to receive what he asks. So, we might get something wrong, but it is not because it is impossible to find, it is simply because we have not sought God as we ought. Charles Hodge, in a letter he wrote to Pope Pius IX explaining why the Presbyterian churches of America could not participate in the Catholic Church’s council that year, explains why. He lists 4 objections to the Catholic Church. His second is quoted below:

Secondly,
the right of private judgment:  When we open the Scriptures, we
find that they are addressed to the people.  They speak to us.  We
are commanded to search them. John 5, 39.  To believe what they
teach.  We are held personally responsible for our faith.  The
apostle commands us to pronounced (sic) accursed an apostle or an
angel from heaven, who should anything contrary to the divinely
authenticated word of God.  Gal. 1, 8.  He makes us the judges, and
has placed the rule of judgment into our hands, and holds us
responsible for our judgments. (emphasis mine)

Cyril of Jerusalem in one of his Catechetical Lectures (NPNF2, Vol. 7,Cyril of Jerusalem, Catechetical Lectures 4:17) encourages his flock to not take anything he says at face value, but to scrutinize it for themselves from the Scriptures:

Have thou ever in thy mind this seal, which for the present has been lightly touched in my discourse, by way of summary, but shall be stated, should the Lord permit, to the best of my power with the proof from the Scriptures. For concerning the divine and holy mysteries of the Faith, not even a casual statement must be delivered without the Holy Scriptures; nor must we be drawn aside by mere plausibility and artifices of speech. Even to me, who tell thee these things, give not absolute credence, unless thou receive the proof of the things which I announce from the Divine Scriptures. For this salvation which we believe depends not on ingenious reasoning, but on demonstration of the Holy Scriptures.

One thing that has kind of bothered me is the notion of being in the Catholic Church and then kind of being in a place where I have no need to search the Scriptures for the truths therein. I would have no need to work out the mysteries of God, even though that is partially what the Holy Spirit was given to believers for. 1 Cor. 2:10-13 says,

¹⁰For to us God revealed them through the Spirit; for the Spirit searches all things, even the depths of God. ¹¹For who among men knows the thoughts of a man except the spirit of the man which is in him? Even so the thoughts of God no one knows except the Spirit of God.¹²Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, so that we may know the things freely given to us by God,¹³which things we also speak, not in words taught by human wisdom, but in those taught by the Spirit, combining spiritual thoughts with spiritual words.

Of course, I would still have to work out my salvation with fear and trembling by growing in holiness and righteousness, and there would still be a need to grow in knowledge so that I might not be ineffective and might be always ready to give a defense.

But what of the noble Bereans? I know this passage is used over and over again by Protestants, but it seems to be a clear commendation of the people comparing their teachers to the word of God to judge for themselves whether their teachings are true or not. The Bereans searched the Scriptures to see if what Paul said was true. Paul did not merely say that he was an apostle of God and say the Bereans should believe whatever he said; rather than argue his legitimacy as an apostle with them, he merely taught them, then they compared it to the Scriptures.

Being personally responsible for your faith would make it a much more urgent matter, I suppose. But, other problems arise within the Reformed paradigm. I mean, it couldn’t really count against you because we are all covered by the same righteousness of Christ. It would kind of be like saying that after you are a Christian, it is a matter of utmost importance to figure out all the Bible’s morality. I mean, it is important, but not really…at least in the Reformed paradigm.

Alright, I shouldn’t go down that rabbit trail. I should write a post all its own on my frustration with the whole “there are rewards in Heaven” doctrine in the Reformed faith.

Anyway… Another problem the whole “we are each responsible for our own (maturity in) faith” belief is that it seems to discount the idea of a real body of believers, where individuals have different gifts and roles. 1 Cor. 12:27-31 describes the body of Christ, the c/Church, as having many parts. Some are apostles, some teachers, some prophets etc…not all prophesy, not all teach, so why should each individual believer take all the roles on for himself/herself? Can I expect myself to master Greek and Hebrew so I can rightly interpret ancient manuscripts of Scripture? Most people simply do not have the time or resources to do such things. So then I might suggest that the individual believer go and try to make the best decision they can among the different linguistic scholars. ah, Poppycock! How am I supposed to judge among linguists if I don’t understand  the first bit about linguistics anyway? What is the point of the role of the teacher or the scholar in the c/Church if it all comes back to me in the end anyway?

My final problem with Hodge’s notion is that it seems to inevitably lead to a Christian agnosticism. This thought has been troubling me for quite awhile. I believe my next post will be on that…

Abortion through the Ages

So, while I was looking around for info on contraception, I inevitably came across info on abortion. I was surprised and confused to find out that the RCC’s stance on the human fetus/abortion has been inconsistent. It was not until 1869 with Pope Pius IX who, unlike Pope Gregory XIV in 1591, said that the soul existed at conception. Pope Gregory, on the other hand, said that the soul did enter the fetus until the 116th day. So, aborting the fetus before this stage of “quickening,” was not as grave a sin as aborting a fetus once it had received a soul or was “quickened.”

My question is: If the RCC claims to be the infallible guide for all things pertaining to faith and morality, then how could it change its position so drastically on such an important issue – the issue of life and death?

This is a brief summary of the RCC’s differing views over history on when an abortion is actual murder and when it is of a lesser evil. *Side note: In that site’s description of Pope Innocent’s decision on the monk’s behavior, it should be noted that the pope still considered what the monk did to be wrong and sinful; the pope just did not decree that the monk had arranged for murder. Many penance texts of the Middle Ages prescribe punishments for abortion at all stages of gestation. Below, I am quoting this site.

Many Christians in the medieval period apparently believed in delayed hominization. The Teaching of an Irish Synod, i.e., Christian clergy (ca. 675): “The penance for homicide is seven years on bread and water…. The penance for the destruction of the embryo of a child in the mother’s womb [early abortion?] is three and a half years. The penance for the destruction of flesh and spirit [late abortion?] is seven and a half years on bread and water…. The penance for a mother’s destruction of her own child [infanticide?] is twelve years on bread and water….” Bede of England, Penitential (ca. 725): “A mother who kills her child before the fortieth day [of gestation] shall do penance for one year. If it is after the child has become alive, [she shall do penance] as a murderer. But it makes a great difference whether a poor woman does it on account of the great difficulty of supporting [the child], or a prostitute for the sake of concealing her wickedness.” (Bede does not explain, though, whether the woman’s motive in obtaining abortion is more important than the stage of pregnancy in which it’s performed.) Another Irish penitential text, ca. 800: “A woman who causes miscarriage of that which she has conceived, after it has become established in the womb, three years and one-half of penance. If the flesh has formed, it is seven years. If the soul has entered it, fourteen years of penance.” Pope Innocent III and Pope Gregory IX (ca. 1200) considered abortion to be homicide only when the fetus is “formed.” (Hurst 10-11) This is rather startling, given that many 20th-century Catholics tend to assume that the Vatican has always affirmed “immediate animation.”

Apparently, the RCC just could not decide when an embryo/fetus/whatever actually became a human, possessing a soul. I will give the RCC the fact that it was always against all abortive measures, regardless of fetus development. The Didache (2nd century) was against all abortions and opposition to abortion continued in the church. However, the RCC understanding of the gravity of the sin and thus, its accompanying punishment, changed based on what the RCC of the time believed to be the time of “quickening.”

At one point in time, the Church seemed to go along with Aristotle’s philosophy of when a fetus became human. Aristotle contended that we are conceived in an unformed, vegetative state. Later, we receive an animal-type soul, and only later do we receive a rational, human soul. Aristotle said the timing for males was 40 days after conception and 80 days for females. Augustine and Thomas Aquinas both agreed with Aristotle. This belief was adopted into the RCC. Both Augustine and Aquinas, though, agreed that it was still wrong to abort; it was against the “natural law.”

Hm, it’s just troubling. Doubtless, the present RCC is a champion of the right to life for all humans, regardless of his or her stage of development. It just also seems to be such an important issue to be right on – when are we to be considered human? I suppose the RCC could say that it is not responsible for that end of the question b/c it’s an issue of science rather than faith and morals. Also, the RCC could, in good conscience, say that it has consistently been against all abortive measures; it has only differed on the gravity of the sin of the abortion. But, really, where is the infallible leader and guide? Shouldn’t the RCC have been able to tell the universal church what counted as murder and what didn’t?

_______________________________

Edit Note: Previously, I had this paragraph included in my post:

Here is the New Advent article on abortion. Interestingly, in the last paragraph it says that anyone who procures an abortion at any time is punishable by excommunication, whereas anyone who aids in the procurement of an abortion is only punishable by excommunication after the time of “quickening.” So, the RCC still has the distinction of a quickened and non-quickened fetus on its books, even if it is only an obscure reference. The article does admit that this piece of canon law is subject to being changed or refined.

However, the New Advent article is quite outdated, as pointed out by Mike below. Apparently, current canon law makes no distinction. And interestingly enough, the article’s admittance of possible change to the law came true.

What happened to the Deuterocanon?

Alright, so I’m reading F.F. Bruce’s book, The Canon of Scripture, and I am only a third of the way through, but it has left me slightly disturbed. I read chapter 7, titled, “Before and After the Reformation,” and was struck by the recentness and seeming suddenness that the Protestant church discarded the deuterocanonical books with. Now, I’m not saying that it was sudden and random that they officially regarded them as unfit for development of doctrine. No, that was a feeling that had existed since the earliest of times in the Christian Church, most notably and lastingly in the comments Jerome provides in his prologues to his Latin translation of the Old Testament books, the Vulgate.

But what is interesting is that a fair number of Bible translations kept the deuterocanonical books b/c of their consistent use in churches throughout history. Although at certain points in time and with certain groups, the deuterocanon was only considered useful for the edification and encouragement of Christians, at those same points in time and with different groups, they were considered to practically be just as useful as any other undoubtedly canonical book. For example, Augustine, in his councils of Hippo and Carthage, list what is practically today’s RCC canon as the full canon of the church. Bruce comments on this by saying that Augustine was not saying anything new; he was just saying what had already become common, accepted practice in the churches of the time.

The big change seems to come with the Puritans in England in the 17th and 18th centuries. As late as 1615, Bruce writes, “the Archbishop of Canterbury, George Abbot, a firm Calvinist in theology, forbade the binding or selling of Bibles without the Apocrypha on penalty of a year’s imprisonment.” However, he continues, “This measure seemed to be necessary because of the increasingly vocal Puritan objection to the inclusion of the Apocrypha among the canonical books…Now, despite the penalty enacted by Archbishop Abbot, copies of the AV/KJV without the Apocrypha began to be produced in the years from 1626 onward.” It wasn’t until 1644 that the Long Parliament ordained that the Apocrypha could not be read in church services. The Puritans had a huge impact on American Christianity, of course. And many Bible societies when taking upon themselves the task of translating and spreading God’s Word had to face the question of whether or not to include the deuterocanon. Originally, for the British and Foreign Bible Society, publishing Bibles with the Apocrypha was not an issue until some of its members expressed concern – especially groups holding to the Westminster Confession, such as the Scottish groups. Eventually, the society stopped aiding and circulating Bibles with the Apocrypha.

Another interesting thing to me is that Bibles as late as 1970 were being published by Protestant groups still containing the deuterocanon. The Revised Standard Version of 1957 and the New English Bible of 1970 both retained them. The original Geneva Bible of 1560 and the original Bishop’s Bible of 1568 (both published by Protestants in honor of Queen Elizabeth) included the Apocrypha. They both put the books in a separate section from the Old and New Testaments, but only the Geneva Bible provided a written distinction b/w the OT and the Apocrypha. Lots of other Protestant Bibles, such as the Wycliffe Bibles, Luther’s Bibles, Thomas Matthew’s Bible included the Apocrypha in various editions. The Anglican Church, at one point, even still included readings from the Deuterocanon in their liturgy.

What is disturbing is that after over a millenium of consistent use, we modern Protestants couldn’t even tell someone the name of one of the books, much less say we had read them. Good for doctrine or not, it seems a shame that the modern Protestant church has thrown away books that Christians throughout the ages have found inspirational, edifying, uplifting and useful.