Showing posts with label Council of Trent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Council of Trent. Show all posts

Monday, July 27, 2015

Post-colonial Catholicism


It's interesting to compare and contrast Trent, Vatican I, and Vatican II.

i) Trent was a rearguard action. Post-Reformation Catholicism was like a post-colonial Empire. The remnants of the erstwhile empire. 

When colonies or satellite countries break away, they effectively redraw the political map. The new borders of the erstwhile empire are drawn from the outside. Its borders were pushed back by the loss of its colonies or satellite countries. 

At Trent, Rome allowed itself to be defined by Protestants. It ratified by boundaries drawn by Protestants. Rome was whatever the Protestants were not, and vice versa.

Whoever erects a fence first draws the boundary for both sides. By the time Trent was convened, the Reformation was irreversible. Trent was simply an acknowledgement of the new status quo. An admission of defeat. A forced accommodation to what it could not change.

Trent was not itself disruptive. The disruption had already occurred. At Trent, Rome was cutting her losses and conserving what remained. 

ii) Vatican I was a one-man ego trip. Unlike Trent, which was necessary, Vatican II was elective.  

Although it wasn't terribly damaging, it proved to be an embarrassment to the papacy. Problem is, the pope claims to be infallible under vaguely specified circumstances, but he rarely dares to exercise that alleged prerogative, for the moment he makes a testable "infallible" proclamation, he will disprove his infallibilist pretensions.

It's not coincidental that this prerogative has only been exercised twice since Vatican I, and on both occasions to proclaim safely unfalsifiable dogmas. The pope might as well issue an infallible encyclical on the mating habits of unicorns. You can't disprove it.

iii) Vatican II was very disruptive. And on the face of it, this was an unforced error. I don't know why John XXIII convened it. Not beyond the catchphrases about "aggiornamento" and "throwing the windows open to let in the fresh air."

One possible interpretation is that John XXIII was like Gorbachev. His Russian counterpart understood that the Soviet Empire was militarily and economically unsustainable. In that situation, you have two options: you can just let the empire fall apart–like the Roman empire and the Ottoman empire. Or you can take the initiative. 

Either way, there will be losses. But if you take the initiative, you have more control over the outcome. If, by contrast, you simply wait for the empire to crumble on its own, you will be entirely at the mercy of events. Others will dictate the end-game.

Maybe John XXIII thought the Tridentine/anti-modernist paradigm was unsustainable, and he wanted to get out ahead of the inevitable break up. Indeed, even under his predecessor, the papacy was making tactical concessions to modernism (e.g. Humani Generis; Divino afflante Spiritu).

One problem with that attractive interpretation is that John XXIII isn't reputed to have been much of a thinker. Perhaps, though, the impetus came from theological advisors. In the council itself, modernism was well represented among an influential contingent of bishops and their perti. Even Joseph Ratzinger was originally a progressive theologian.  

But at Vatican II, Rome lost her balance, and has yet to right herself. But perhaps, had she tried to maintain the Tridentine/anti-modernist paradigm, that would have run aground. When the fundamentals are unsound, there's only so much you can do to postpone disaster.  

Monday, December 16, 2013

Divergent cases of “development of doctrine”

the “living Magisterium” still has time to “reformulate”!
the “living Magisterium” still has time to “reformulate”!
Over at Darryl Hart’s Old Life, there has been a long and wide-ranging discussion that’s talked about Ignatius of Antioch and his concept of the authority of bishops, how the actual doctrines of the “priesthood” and “hierarchy” have changed over time, as our historical understanding has sharpened its focus.

I’m re-publishing my comment here, with some minor modifications:

A commenter there who goes by the name Cletus van Damme said, in response to my statement, “According to Trent, you must have the full-blown thing [priesthood and a bishop-priest-deacon hierarchy] by “divine institution” and “from the hand of Christ”:

Similar language is used in Vat1. That same council affirms notions of development in the section where it cites Vincent, and Pius IX himself affirmed development as well in other statements/teaching. Saying something has “always been believed” or “always been taught” does not negate development. It’s like saying the Church has always believed/taught the Trinity. That doctrine obviously developed. All doctrine, no matter at what stage of development, was divinely given by Christ – it is part of the apostolic deposit.

Sunday, December 08, 2013

The χάρισμα τοῦ θεοῦ (“free gift of God”) is eternal life

The χάρισμα τοῦ θεοῦ (“free gift of God”) is eternal life
The χάρισμα τοῦ θεοῦ (“free gift of God”) is eternal life
Over at the Joe Carter article on the Council of Trent, regarding Romans 6:21-23, Erick Ybarra said:

what delivers the baptized from the "end" (telos) of "death"? It is that internal renovation which sets the soul free from its bondage to the practice of sin and sets its course into the practice of holiness and righteousness (emphasis added). It is very explicit here that St. Paul believed in the necessity of righteousness in the baptized for the attainment of eternal life, and yet it is a gift of God.

As a reformed person, I always used to think that when St. Paul says that "the wages of sin is death" is a statement with reference to the life of a believer "before" his conversion. And that is true of course, but St. Paul is speaking to the contemporary moment. The "wages of sin is death" even for the baptized who decide to go in the direction of sin. This is brought out in more detail in Romans 8, where St. Paul says that we are indebted to God to live in the Spirit, and not according to the flesh, for if we do, the "end" (telos) will be death.

These are not wild conclusions, but rather very intelligent, with great support from the Scriptures.

Erick, this is a typical bait-and-switch move on the part of Roman Catholic apologetics. “Somehow, show that works are necessary for salvation” or “you can lose your salvation”, “therefore Roman Catholicism is correct”. However, even if somehow “the wage of sin is death” applies to “the baptized” (which I don’t grant to you), it is not an argument in favor of turning the accretions of Roman Catholicism into required dogma and practice.

Saturday, December 07, 2013

Why We Reject the Council of Trent

The Council of Trent
Earlier this week, the Council of Trent had something like a 450th anniversary of its closing date, and Steve Hays linked to a piece by Joe Carter entitled “9 things you should know about the Council of Trent”.

In the comments, a Roman Catholic writer named Erick Ybarra left a long and convoluted plea in favor of “the Tridentine doctrines”.

I’m responding here at length (in one long blog post), while responding over there to his individual comments individually, with essentially the same responses.

Erick Ybarra said:

I am not quite sure why many of you [have] an issue with the Tridentine doctrines.

Friday, October 11, 2013

Purveyors of a false gospel


Jason appears to have a similar charitable perspective to alleged miracles among non-Christian faiths, particularly Roman Catholics. I find that to be odd, knowing what I have read of him in the past outlining the false gospel Catholicism promotes. His conclusion is that within Catholicism, there are Catholics who are genuine believers and the alleged miracle claims from Catholic circles is God working out of compassion on behalf of those Christians. I personally see no precedent from Scripture in which God worked in such a fashion among the purveyors of a false Gospel…I am of a contrary opinion. I believe that God would never heal through a person who is then proclaiming a false religion that only assigns men’s souls to judgment, or a false teacher who may claim to speak for Christ, but proclaims an unbiblical and errant Gospel.  
http://hipandthigh.wordpress.com/2013/10/09/the-theology-of-miracles/

The problem with Fred's strictures is that John MacArthur is vulnerable to the same charge. Here's a little-known fact about MacArthur. 20 years ago I had a conversation with a student at Westminster west. I won't name names, except to say that this student was one of the two top students in his graduating class at Westminster west. 

When he was in college, he wrote MacArthur a letter. At that time, MacArthur was already embroiled in the Lordship Salvation controversy. He was opposing the antinomianism and easy-believism of some fundamentalists. 

He wrote a commentary on Romans (published by Moody). In the first edition, he stated that justification is not a forensic reckoning of righteousness, but an act that makes us actually, inherently righteous. Unfortunately, that's essentially the Tridentine interpretation of Paul. The Tridentine doctrine of justification.

In his letter, the student quoted various Reformed theologians showing him that his view was not only unbiblical and un-Protestant but basically the same as that of the Council of Trent.

MacArthur initially brushed off the letter until Lance Quinn got hold of the letter and told him that he needed to take the criticisms seriously. As a result, MacArthur revised his interpretation in the second edition of his commentary on Romans.

Until he was corrected, MacArthur was unwittingly the "purveyor of a false gospel," mirroring Rome on this crucial doctrine. And he was initially resistant to correction.

Presumably, MacArthur fans think we should cut him some slack. Make allowance for the fact that like every uninspired Christian, he has intellectual and theological limitations. But when it comes to reputable charismatic scholars like Craig Keener, Gordon Fee, Max Turner, and Graham Twelftree, or even mediating scholars like D. A. Carson, MacArthurites are wholly dismissive, if not contemptuous.   

Thursday, August 08, 2013

Why Roman Catholic Apologists Are the Way They Are

They have a long history of it. This description from Trent, by John W. O'Malley, "a Jesuit who teaches at Georgetown University and writes from a moderately critical perspective" and "a very able historian":

Theologians [as opposed to "the Magisterium"] ... were the primary voice communicating the views of the Reformers in formal sessions to the voting members of the body - bishops, superior generals of the mendicant orders, and abbots. The accuracy of their expositions, though, is questioned by O'Malley, who suggests a great weakness of the council was a penchant for "proof-texting" the Reformers and lifting their comments out of context.

There is no other way to defend Roman Catholicism. They figured this out right from the beginning of the Reformation.

Wednesday, February 06, 2013

When History and Philosophy Collide

Paul Bassett asks, “Will the real Council of Nicaea Stand Up? At issue are Roman claims that somehow “papal ratifications of dogmatic canons issued by general councils [are] meant to bind the whole Church”. Paul challenges this notion by providing some actual historical commentary.

On Nicaea, he quotes Bryan Cross as saying that Arianism had to give up its quest precisely because “the visible Church made this decision at that Council by way of the magisterium of bishops in communion with the episcopal successor of the Apostle Peter.”

I’ve already written about the laughable claim that any “episcopal successor of the Apostle Peter” had anything at all to do with this council.

Paul takes Bryan to task not only for his bad grammar, but for this notion:

I take his meaning to be this: the Arians at Nicaea were officially repudiated as a result of the decision of the unified “magisterium of bishops in communion with the episcopal successor of the Apostle Peter.” In other words, it was Rome’s authority that saved the day. Leaving aside the discussion about how the pope never attended the council and that his legates were minority figures there and the more important point that it was the secular emperor, Constantine, who ratified the whole thing the question I have is whether Catholics at the time of the Reformation would have come to the same conclusion using the same historical information.

And, indeed, they did not.

Citing accounts of kings of France and Spain at that time, he notes that the relationship between “church and state” was “precisely the opposite” of the account that Bryan gives. It was Constantine who ratified Nicaea, and it was the kings of Europe upon whose toes the popes stepped at the time of the Reformation:

”This new pretended Council has sought to deprive the King of France of his ancient honour by subjugating him and preferring another [the Pope] to him. This other was elevated to his position long after the institution of the Crown of France, which delivered him from the pagans and the Saracens and installed the Catholic faith by means of the succours and victories of Charlemagne and the Franks.”

The Spanish Inquisition was essentially an organ of royal power, one of whose functions was to ‘protect’ the Spanish Church from influence by outside agencies, including the papacy. Hence the domination of the Church by the crown was perhaps more comprehensive in Spain during the sixteenth century than in any other Europe state, including those with a Protestant, Erastian system.

Until that time, “Nobody looked to Rome for decisions on doctrine or ecclesiology and the Roman position held sway only in those cases where it happened to coincide with that of the secular ruler.”

The payoff:

But here we come to the interesting question: How are Catholics today to resolve the obvious contradiction between what Bryan Cross thinks the Magisterium is and how Catholics in the 16th century viewed it?

If we adopt Bryan’s view, we look to the Magisterium defined as the pope of Rome and the bishops in communion with him. But that system did not exist at all during the Reformation. The bishops of each country were beholden to their sovereign leader, not the pope. So a 16th century Catholic would have nowhere to go. But if we use the 16th century system of appealing first to the King, then the modern Roman Catholic is left with no court of appeal. So the Interpretive Paradigm [IP] of Bryan and his friends would disenfranchise large portions of their own sect depending on only the time in which it is applied!

So the irony is that Bryan Cross actually proves Mark Galli’s thesis. The “Catholic” church at the time of the Reformation did not, in fact, need a magisterium as defined by Bryan. And that is obvious because the Church existed and the Magisterium did not.

We don’t need no magisterium – indeed.

Soli Deo Gloria

When history and philosophy collide, the so-called “Catholic IP” loses.

Wednesday, January 02, 2013

How did Trent’s Doctrine of the Eucharist Foster Disunity?

Paul Bassett explores this question at Reformation500.

The background leading to The Council of Trent is an intricate patchwork of political maneuvering, self-interest and preservation. The fact that the north German princes had adopted Lutheranism in their territories was an irritant to Emperor Charles for it provided them a club with which to keep him at bay. And this was a vexing annoyance because the Emperor’s attention was drawn continually to the threat of Islam to the east. The more he had to deal with intransigent Lutherans, the less he could focus on the march of the Saracens.

The growth of Protestantism was also a concern for Rome because the more territories that became Protestant the less cash flowed to the Vatican and the more doubt was cast on Rome’s claim to universalism. Additionally, Rome had been selling bishoprics to the highest bidder as a standard practice for a long time. Rich bishops, having procured multiple sees, were simply absent from their dioceses; a situation which caused the locals to wonder what, in the end, they were really paying for. This was another practice badly in need of reform.

Against this backdrop, Trent’s deliberations on the Eucharist were not an attempt to articulate what Catholic doctrine had been. Paul makes that clear at several points:

Trent dealt with the doctrine of the Eucharist in two of its sessions: XIII and XXII. In the former it formalized the doctrine of transubstantiation; in the latter it asserted the sacrificial nature of the Eucharist. Transubstantiation was one of several competing doctrines of the age. It “was never made official in the medieval Church, but got weighty backing even before Aquinas’s time when it was used in documents of the Lateran Council of the Church in 1215.” And this fact, that of competing Eucharistic doctrines, goes to the heart of our investigation. At the time of Trent, there was a lack of unity from Rome on this crucial matter. And transubstantiation itself required a foundation in the pagan philosophy of Aristotle, a philosophy that was not universally accepted even within the fold of Rome:
From the fourteenth century, most philosophers and theologians, particularly in northern Europe, did not in fact believe this (Thomistic doctrine). They were nominalists, who rejected Aristotle’s categories… Nominalists could only say of transubstantiation as a theory of the Mass that it was supported by the weight of opinion among very many holy men in the Church, and therefore it ought not to be approached through the Thomist paths of reason, but must be accepted as a matter of faith. Once that faith in the Church’s medieval authorities was challenged, as it was in the sixteenth century, the basis for belief in transubstantiation was gone, unless one returned to Thomism, the thought of Aquinas. Those who remained in the Roman obedience generally did this; but in sixteenth-century Europe, thousands of Protestants were burnt at the stake for denying an idea of Aristotle, who had never heard of Jesus Christ.
The purpose of the Tridentine declaration on transubstantiation was almost certainly motivated by politics and not strictly theology.

And as a result, “Reacting against the Reformers, Trent defined the Mass as a “true and proper sacrifice…but left it to the theologians…to argue over what sacrifice is….”:

And argue they did! In fact, [Robert Daly, S.J.] outlines four competing theories of “sacrifice” that resulted from the Tridentine proclamation in the fifty years following Trent; all with notable Roman Catholic theologians in support and none [of] which received magisterial approbation or rejection.

He says: “We can clearly see that the doctrine of ‘sacrifice’ as imposed by the Council of Trent resulted in more diversity of opinion, and not less. And rather than clarifying what had gone before, the Magisterium simply allowed theologians to ‘work it out’. When the theologians produced more diversity in doctrine Rome did not correct them or create any unity at all.”

Read more about it here.

Friday, October 05, 2012

A Brief History of the Sacrament of Penance

Jason Stellman made the claim “There’s a rich case that has been made from Scripture and the early fathers about the sacrament of reconciliation, in case you’re interested”.

As a cradle Catholic, I knew it as “confession”. Only later did it become “reconciliation”. Of course, whatever it was, the Council of Trent was quite adamant about it:

Canon 1. If anyone says that in the Catholic Church penance is not truly and properly a sacrament instituted by Christ the Lord for reconciling the faithful of God as often as they fall into sin after baptism, let him be anathema.

Canon 3. If anyone says that those words of the Lord Savior, “Receive ye the Holy Spirit, whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven, and whose sins you shall retain, they are retained” are not to be understood of the power of forgiving and retaining sins in the sacrament of penance, as the Catholic Church has always understood them from the beginning, but distorts them, contrary to the institution of this sacrament, as applying to the authority of preaching the gospel, let him be anathema.

Canon 6. If anyone denies that sacramental confession was instituted by divine law or is necessary to salvation; or says that the manner of confessing secretly to a priest alone, which the Catholic Church has always observe from the beginning and still observes, is at variance with the institution and command of Christ and is a human contrivance, let him be anathema.

[Council of Trent, 1551].

For a variety of reasons, I’ve decided to follow up with that. Bavinck noted that “It was the Roman Catholic penitential system that prompted Luther’s reformational activity” (Vol 3, pg 517).


Alister McGrath gives something of a brief history of the sacrament:

“The systematic development of sacramental theology is a major feature of the medieval period, particularly between the years 1050 and 1240” (Cited in Alister McGrath,Iustitia Dei, A History of the Christian Doctrine of Justification, Third Edition, Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, ©2005), pg. 117.

McGrath also notes that Peter Lombard’s inclusion of penance among the seven sacraments was “an inclusion which is of major significance to the development of the doctrine of justification within the sphere of the western church” (120-121). He also says, “It may be noted, however, that there was no general agreement upon the necessity of sacerdotal confession: in the twelfth century, for example, the [Peter] Abelardian school rejected its necessity, while the Victorine school insisted upon it (121). It was not until the Fourth Lateran Council (1215) that “penance” officially became a “sacrament”. That council “laid an obligation upon believers to confess their sins to their priest annually” (122).

Not coincidentally, Thomas Doyle traces the advent of priestly sexual abuse to the practice of private confession around this time:

With the advent of the private confession of sins came the abuse known as solicitation for sex in the act of sacramental confession. Unscrupulous priests began to use the intimacy of confession as an opportunity to seduce the penitent into some form of sexual contact. This abuse is particularly heinous because it takes advantage of a person when he or she is most vulnerable and susceptible to the abuse of priestly power. It is not known when the very first reports of solicitation became known, but by the 16th century the Church had begun to pass legislation to control and eradicate this vile form of abuse.



The first work mentioning anything resembling a “second plank” (which is what “the sacrament of reconciliation” was originally called) is Tertullians work “De paenitentia, or on repentence”. Tertullian.org gives this summary of the work:

A short work in 12 chapters discussing whether forgiveness for major public sins is available after conversion, and outlines the position generally held at that time - once only, with public repentance. (De pudicitia 3 tells us the penitent can still be saved; but cannot be received in the church).


Here is Tertullian’s practice in his own words.

The narrower, then, the sphere of action of this second and only (remaining) repentance, the more laborious is its probation; in order that it may not be exhibited in the conscience alone, but may likewise be carried out in some (external) act. This act, which is more usually expressed and commonly spoken of under a Greek name, is exomologesis whereby we confess our sins to the Lord, not indeed as if He were ignorant of them, but inasmuch as by confession satisfaction is settled, of confession repentance is born; by repentance God is appeased. And thus exomologesis is a discipline for man's prostration and humiliation, enjoining a demeanor calculated to move mercy. With regard also to the very dress and food, it commands (the penitent) to lie in sackcloth and ashes, to cover his body in mourning, to lay his spirit low in sorrows, to exchange for severe treatment the sins which he has committed; moreover, to know no food and drink but such as is plain,----not for the stomach's sake, to wit, but the soul's; for the most part, however, to feed prayers on fastings, to groan, to weep and make outcries unto the Lord your God; to bow before the feet of the presbyters, and kneel to God's dear ones; to enjoin on all the brethren to be ambassadors to bear his deprecatory supplication (before God). All this exomologesis (does), that it may enhance repentance; may honour God by its fear of the (incurred) danger; may, by itself pronouncing against the sinner, stand in the stead of God's indignation, and by temporal mortification (I will not say frustrate, but) expunge eternal punishments. Therefore, while it abases the man, it raises him; while it covers him with squalor, it renders him more clean; while it accuses, it excuses; while it condemns, it absolves. The less quarter you give yourself, the more (believe me) will God give you.

This of course, was quite a public ceremony.

In the “rich tradition of the early church”, [instituted by Christ], a third-century Christian has the opportunity to go through this process precisely once, after which he is “cemented to contumacy”.

This no doubt is the “undeveloped” third-century view of the Catholic sacrament, instituted by Christ, “the manner of confessing secretly to a priest alone”, “as the Catholic Church has always understood them from the beginning”, according to Trent.

So what this shows is that maybe Tertullian actually “misunderstood” what Christ actually meant when he instituted that sacrament?


Now, let me ask, if Christ instituted this “sacrament”, what makes Trent think that the “developments” since this important early third-century “interpretation” are better than what Tertullian practiced? Isn’t this what Christ told the Apostles to practice? Or did Tertullian somehow get this wrong, only to have the later church get it right again? To have re-found the “original” apostolic practice?


McGrath follows up on this:

The ninth century, however, saw the Anglo-Irish system of private penance become widespread in Europe of private penance become widespread in Europe, with important modifications to the theology of penance following in its wake.

These are the ones who, upon further “reflection” on the practice that “Christ instituted”, softened the experience for our tender 21st century sensibilities, who think “penance” actually consists of saying three Hail Mary’s.

Although earlier writers considered that penance could be undertaken only once in a lifetime, as a ‘second plank after a shipwreck’ (tabula secunda post naufragiam -- see Jerome Epistola 130) this opinion was gradually abandoned, rather than refuted, as much for social as for pastoral reasons. Thus the eighth-century bishop Chrodegang of Metz recommended regular confession to a superior at least once a year, while Paulinus of Aquileia advocated confession and penance before each mass. Gregory the Great’s classification of mortal sins [sixth century] became incorporated into the penitential system of the church during the ninth century, so that private penance in the presence of a priest became generally accepted. Penitential books began to make their appearance throughout Europe, similar in many respects to those which can be traced back to sixth-century Wales.

The spread of the practice in the Carolingian [French] church appears to have been due to the formidable influence of Alcuin, who has greater claim than any to be considered the founder of the Carolingian renaissance [ninth century]. It is therefore of considerable significance that Alcuin specifically links penance with justification….

A further development of this idea may be found in the works of Rabanus Maurus, who became the leading proponent of private confession in the Frankish church after Alcuin; justification here is linked, not merely with the act of penance, but specifically with sacerdotal confession. The relationship between justification, baptism and penance was defined with particular clarity in the ninth century by Haimo of Auxerre:

Our redemption, by which we are redeemed, and through which we are justified, is the passion of Christ, which, joined with baptism, justifies humanity through faith, and subsequently through penance. These two are joined together in such a way that it is not possible for humanity to be justified by one without the other.

McGrath, pgs. 117-118.

So it really seems that the ninth century church, thus having the authority to “develop” doctrines, developed it in such a way that removed some of the severity from the third-century doctrine (articulated by Tertullian presumably as it was “instituted by Christ” directly to the Apostles).

Or is there some step in “the Tradition” that maybe we don’t know about at this point, where Christ really did advocate the private confessional, and Tertullian somehow made the mistake of thinking it was that “one-time plank”, complete with “sackcloth and ashes”, after which time (“it is impossible to be brought to repentance”, Hebrews 6:6)?