Vix Pervenit on usury

Pope Benedict XIV’s 1745 encyclical Vix Pervenit “On Usury and Other Dishonest Profits” states:

The nature of the sin called usury has its proper place and origin in a loan contract. This financial contract between consenting parties demands, by its very nature, that one return to another only as much as he has received. The sin rests on the fact that sometimes the creditor desires more than he has given. Therefore he contends some gain is owed him beyond that which he loaned, but any gain which exceeds the amount he gave is illicit and usurious.

Thus he says that, even if a contract is agreed upon by two consenting parties, the creditor is guilty of usury if the contract says that he is owed back more than he gave.

This applies even to loans which are to be used for productive or business ends, not just the more obviously nefarious consumer loans, for he says that the sin of usury cannot be condoned “even by arguing that the money borrowed is not left idle, but is spent usefully, either to increase one’s fortune, to purchase new estates, or to engage in business transactions.”

The modern mind will quickly say, “What then? Can no use be made of idle money by exchange and business? Is there to be no collaboration of resources, which produces wealth?” The pope clarifies:

[It is not] denied that it is very often possible for someone, by means of contracts differing entirely from loans, to spend and invest money legitimately either to provide oneself with an annual income or to engage in legitimate trade and business. From these types of contracts honest gain may be made.

And later in the letter he says that it is an “extreme” which is “evil” to judge the matter with such severity as to say that “any profit derived from money” is illegal and usurious.

So there is certainly some category of contracts that legitimately spend and invest of money with the goal of profit. Yet this sort of legitimate contract cannot, under any guise, involve the collection of interest, for he later writes:

Some will falsely and rashly persuade themselves…that together with loan contracts there are other legitimate titles or, excepting loan contracts, they might convince themselves that other just contracts exist, for which it is permissible to receive a moderate amount of interest.

But no such legitimate, interest-charging contract exists. Therefore, what must the man do who wishes to put his money to work?

Whoever therefore wishes to follow his conscience must first diligently inquire if, along with the loan, another category exists by means of which the gain he seeks may be lawfully attained.

What kinds of contract? He doesn’t say. As in many Catholic social teachings, the pope here leaves the nitty-gritty up for us to determine, but lays out the moral principle in ironclad terms. Perhaps a profit-sharing arrangement, where the partner who sails the merchant vessel and the partner who stays home share in both the risk and the reward? Perhaps something else.

But whatever contract you make, don’t charge interest.

The pope dispels the notion, nearly ubiquitous today, that the prosperity of the modern era has depended on such conventions as these for stimulating the economy.

Christian minds should not think that gainful commerce can flourish by usuries or other similar injustices. On the contrary We learn from divine Revelation that justice raises up nations; sin, however, makes nations miserable.

If that is true, then, judging by how much our current global economy is built on the charging of interest, we are headed for great misery indeed.

Catholic or Orthodox?

As for the question of whether to join the Roman Catholic or Eastern Orthodox church, both have valid sacraments and priesthood. Both are, in that wonderful sense, true. But, despite the superior beauty of the Orthodox liturgy, and its exemption from the political and theological strife that plagues Catholics today, my heart and conscience can do nothing but desire to choose Catholicism. Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that the Orthodox can answer the liberal deconstructivist with equal strength, showing that there was an uninterrupted through-line of doctrine between Christ and the early patriarchs on which he anchors his faith. Even then, what would this argument be based on? Would it not be based on man’s knowledge and judgment? Would it not be examining the teachings of Christ, and the teachings of the patriarchs, and then saying, “Look, they are the same”? But the very act of doing so betrays a different epistemological basis: reason! The reason, mind you, not of the patriarchs themselves, but of the later theologians who contend for the connection, and, ultimately, to our own reason. Contemplate it honestly: at the root, is it not revealed to be the same way of arguing for validity than Luther or Calvin used?

But the answer of the Catholic Church against the modern who seeks to sever the line is not one of reason, though it is reasonable: it is one of faith in the promise of God: Jesus prayed for Peter, that his faith would not fail, and gave him the duty of strengthening his brothers, when he had returned from that place of humility and humiliation that would make him, in the inverted ways of God, most fit to be the exalted leader of the church. It is the prayer of Jesus that the Catholic clings to. It is the claim that Jesus promised never to let us go astray.

You asked me why I was convinced about the primacy of Peter, and I talked about the scriptures, yes. I wouldn’t have gotten there without them. (The irony is comforting, by the way, for, one who begins to perceive God’s patterns of irony ought to expect that the Baptist, in rejecting the church for the sake of the Bible, would end up both less like the church and less biblical, while the those who cling to the Church rightly would also turn out to be more biblical. But I digress.) But my reason is not merely one of reasoned argument from the scriptures. It is also one that appeals to my heart with a self-evidential power that I hope you see too: Jesus was to be taken back up into heaven, and he was to leave his people behind, subject to the constant attacks of the Devil, who would want nothing more, from the moment of Pentecost, than to literally and ecclesiologically tear them to pieces. He is our Good Shepherd. No Good Shepherd would leave his sheep defenseless. He would not leave them to their own devices. They are sheep, dumb and easily beguiled. Easy prey for wolves. No, if the Shepherd had to go way, he would leave a proxy to defend them all. He must, or he is no Good Shepherd!

Perhaps, a long time ago, I would have said, “Yes, yes, the Holy Spirit.” And that is true. But you and I both have come to a place where we find it insufficient that that Shepherd be merely spiritual. He must be of the flesh, because God’s people are of the flesh, and they need a leader who they can, literally, look to. They need a leader who carries a real staff and can smite real, physical wolves on the head. They need a leader who can speak audible words. We need a bodily leader because we are bodily people and we can only know God through bodies.

Now, if the Good Shepherd put a proxy in his place to guard is people from the Evil One, but that proxy denied that responsibility, and said, “I am only the first among the sheep,” or “I have only been put here as an example that the sheep should follow, but they ought to protect themselves,” or “I have only been given charge of these sheep, not those,” then he has shown himself to be a bad proxy, and the Good Shepherd, who knows all things, would not put such a proxy of himself in place, for he knows that he, in appointing such a vicar of himself, has responsibility to ensure that he will be faithful.

And the thing is, that only the See of Peter claims such leadership. Therefore it is not the claims of Peter that convince me, so much as the fact that neither Constantinople, nor Canterbury, nor any other See claims it along side him! They would claim authority, yes, but they soften it; they shrink back; they do not claim primacy to rival Peter, but say that there is no such primacy anywhere. The authority which makes the deviations of Francis so terrifying is also that which is necessary. (It must be theoretically possible for the Shepherd to stray; that is why it was necessary for Jesus to pray for him, that he would not. And that is why we must cling to that prayer in fear, but hope and confidence that through the cross, Christ won perfect efficacy in his prayer, and that, come hell or high waters, come many political scandals and near-collapses, the Church will come out all right, purified, and saved from vital error, safely home). So, you see, it is precisely the fact that the Orthodox and Anglicans and all the rest are safe, that they do not claim primacy, that invalidates them. For it removes the need for Christ’s prayer, and it means that Christ is not with us, in a vicar of his appointing, bearing the promise and power and responsibility of Christ himself to guard us with Christ’s own power while he is gone. It is because I need the protection of Christ himself, because I need him to be with me, bodily, to shepherd my poor and weary soul in a world filled with heresy and doubt and undermining philosophy, and where I sense the weakness and fickleness of my own intellect and reason. That is why I fall, with desperation, at the feet of Christ, and the one whom he charged to feed me. “To whom shall we go, Lord?”

But if this does not yet convince you, I will share another thought that goes alongside it: I see a heavenly vision of the time when all things will be restored, and Christ’s high-priestly prayer will at last come to fruition. It is like the vision in Flannery O’Connor’s story “Revelation” about the woman who realizes she is like the pigs, and in the end sees the train of people going up to heaven, in which the last are first, and the first last. As in that vision, all the schisms that have pained Christ’s church will be healed, beginning with the most egregious–the pentecostal micro-denominations, and then the baptists, then the presbyterians and methodists and lutherans, then the Anglicans, and last of all, the Orthodox will be restored to the full unity of the church. The Orthodox have been least in need of restoration. They are nearest to the fullness. Thus they too will be restored, though as with a lesser urgency. So do not worry, brother: even if you choose wrongly, and choose Orthodoxy (ha!), Christ will have mercy on your good reasons, and we will be drawn together at last.

But let us take care to guard our reasons for doing things, for if we convert to this or that church for the reason that it is “doing Christianity better,” does this not spring from pride? But if we convert, let it be in order to cast ourselves in need at the feet of Jesus our Shepherd, whose grace will prevail.

Reaction to Francis on civil unions

Okay, here are my reactions to a few friends about Pope Francis saying he supports civil unions for same-sex couples:

Firstly, with all due respect, Pope Francis is a dunderhead, and he is wrong about same-sex civil unions. This is Francis’s typical loose-lipped pastoral sappiness and big-heartedness, inviting confusion when he should be leading his flock toward clarity in these times of moral upheaval. I don’t even think he is fully cognizant of the fact that when he says “civil unions” for “legal protection,” this could take no shape in our world today except something that was equivalent to marriage in certain untenable ways. By the way, in 2003 under Benedict the CDF was extremely clear on this:

“Legal recognition of homosexual unions or placing them on the same level as marriage would mean not only the approval of deviant behaviour, with the consequence of making it a model in present-day society, but would also obscure basic values which belong to the common inheritance of humanity. The Church cannot fail to defend these values, for the good of men and women and for the good of society itself…Not even in a remote analogous sense do homosexual unions fulfil the purpose for which marriage and family deserve specific categorical recognition. On the contrary, there are good reasons for holding that such unions are harmful to the proper development of human society, especially if their impact on society were to increase.”

As has been said, thankfully Francis’s opinions don’t matter unless he chooses to promulgate the legitimacy of civil unions ex cathedra, solemnly invoking his authority to interpret Scripture and Tradition. This would be unthinkable and would throw me into an existential crisis concerning my belief about the Catholic Church (which is, as a reminder, that we should all join the Catholic Church whether we like it or not because it is the One True Church). Short of him doing this (which I don’t think he will, for several reasons) what we have is a Pope with wrong opinions, not a Church with wrong opinions.

The real question that we’re asking is, does it follow from the fact that the Pope has the power to potentially go further, to promulgate such an error authoritatively, that we should deny the legitimacy of his authority? Should we, like Dreher implies, take shelter in Orthodoxy (or Anglicanism), who assure us that their patriarchs could not possibly promulgate a wrong opinion ex cathedra, because they do not have the authority to promulgate anything ex cathedra? Should we find comfort as Dreher does in fact that Orthodoxy is not “equally endangered by dodgy progressive patriarchs” because “the opinions of Orthodox patriarchs aren’t binding”?

My answer is that we should reject Orthodoxy and cling to Catholicism for the very reason Dreher perfers Orthodoxy: that it refuses to assert its authority to proclaim truth ex cathedra. I hold that no Church that is the True Church, and thus bears Christ’s promise to guide and protect it and subject the gates of hell to its authority, can ever deny that it has the authority to speak on His behalf, nor relieve itself of the solemn duty of interpreting the mind of Christ in each new age. Contained within this responsibility is the fearfulness of free will: the possibility of error. The radical possibility that the Church will blaspheme is necessary if she is to have the ability to speak Truth in power. That is why we must hold, trembling, to the promise of Christ, that he himself will never let his flock go astray, even when individual human Vicars skirt the edge. The Orthodox church and the rest are safe from this fearful possibility, but only by doing something even worse: denying their birthright and severing the vital connection of heaven and earth. For they deny that the anointing of God can remain on sinful and errant men. But if this cannot be, then we are all like sheep without a shepherd.

The Church must have authority

The One True Church is anointed by God and speaks with authority. It is the solemn duty of The Church to overrule false teachers and scholars who twist the scriptures, and to preserve the deposit of faith entrusted to her once for all. However, false teachers cannot be overruled except by a higher authority. This authority cannot be man’s opinion or scholarship, which is of merely equal authority to that of the liars. There is no final authority in mere scholarship, for books cannot speak for themselves, and the minds of scholars are the minds of men. Mere men, I say, unless they are anointed by the Spirit of Christ. For the Church asserts, and must assert, an ultimate authority to interpret the Scripture and Tradition given to her by God. The Church must be able to answer a false teacher wearing the robes of her apostolic anointing, to pronounce a judgment that bears weight, so that the faithful will not be led astray.

Who is this Church? Protestants say it is all the true Christians in all the denominations of the world. But the voice of the ethereal “global church” is silent; the voice of “all baptized Christians” cannot speak, for they have no body. There is no courtroom in Protestantism, for no man submits to the judgment of another. There is no judge who can do more than ridicule the Joel Osteens and the Rob Bells, so they shout at one another like an unruly parliament, each with his piece of the truth.

The voice of the Church comes from a body incarnate, for it is the voice of the Incarnate Christ. She speaks as one with authority, saying, “Today, this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” She asserts the exclusive authority to proclaim doctrine, not because her exegesis is based on good reasons, but because the Spirit of the Lord is upon her. She speaks “not in plausible words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power,so that her faith might not rest in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God.”

Where is the Church who speaks with such a voice? Where is she who proclaims with the prophetic zeal, “I will not share my glory”? She stands in tattered robes of bloody history, but it is a history that leads all the way back to the Cross, and the Fire of Jesus is still in her eyes.

Semiotics and the mystery of the Eucharist

I wrote a draft of this a couple of years ago. I saw it again, and thought it appropriate to post now (a bit updated), to dovetail with my next post.

A major difference between Catholic and Protestant theology is in the way that they believe God communicates to man. Catholics believe that the mysteries of grace that God extends to us are chiefly communicated by tangible signs – the sacraments. The seven sacraments of the Catholic church are Baptism, Confirmation, Reconciliation, the Eucharist (Lord’s Supper), Marriage, Holy Orders (Ordination), and Anointing of the Sick. In the performance of these sacred acts, the heavenly graces of God are communicated into reality. Catholics place immense weight on the value of the sacraments as vehicles of God’s grace. In fact, the catechism states, “The Church affirms that for believers the sacraments of the New Covenant are necessary for salvation” (1129).

Catholic doctrine places supreme importance on the Eucharist, the “Sacrament of Sacraments.” “The Eucharist is the efficacious sign and sublime cause of that communion in the divine life and that unity of the People of God by which the Church is kept in being” (1325). All Christians affirm that Christ is the sole basis of our redemption and salvation; the Catholic doctrine venerates the Eucharist precisely because it equates it with Christ. ‘In the most blessed sacrament of the Eucharist ‘the body and blood, together with the soul and divinity, of our Lord Jesus Christ and, therefore, the whole Christ is truly, really, and substantially contained’” (1374). Simply put, participating in Holy Communion is how to receive Jesus because the Eucharist is such a powerful symbol of Jesus that it actually is Jesus. The sacramental sign is necessary to the reality. You cannot get at the reality without the sacrament as a type and form of it that you can experience in the physical world. Thus, the sign is “efficacious” and “causes” the reality of communion with God.

Evangelicals practice the Lord ’s Supper, but they don’t regard these things the same way. They simply say that the ceremonies are special reminders for believers, special moments when God’s power and person are uniquely present, but in a metaphorical, abstract, symbolic sense. Nothing about the actual words or deeds causes the graces that they signify. In fact, in the view of most Evangelicals, believing salvation to be linked to the performance of sacraments is tantamount to “salvation by works” as opposed to “by grace through faith”—that is, no salvation at all. “You must believe and…” is damnable to many an evangelical ear. Faith is more internal and abstract, and does not require a physical action. Born and raised in an Evangelical church, I long thought the Catholic doctrine corrupt. Like the Galatians, Catholics had forgotten grace and bloated the sacraments into a system of good deeds. Granted, that may be true for many who were “raised Catholic” but have a poor understanding of Christianity; the sacraments are able to distract people from the things that they should signify; just as an unintelligent dog will not follow the signification of your pointing finger to the ball you have thrown, but will run eagerly to examine your finger. However, correctly understood, the Catholic teaching of the sacraments as vital is not incompatible with salvation by grace through faith in Christ.

The Institution of Holy Communion is predicted by Jesus in John 6:22-65, and happens during the Last Supper in Matthew 26:26-29 / Luke 22:14-23 / Mark 14:22-25. Suffice it to say that the meaning of Jesus’ statements, “This is my body,” and “this is my blood” is fiercely debated. I have no place at the round-table of scholars of Greek and Aramaic. However, simply making the assumption that Jesus intended to create some kind of semiotic (sign) relationship between himself and the bread/wine, I think I can speak generally about to the issue. French linguist Ferdinand de Saussur proposed a very helpful model of the sign. Allow me to quote from Chandler’s resource:
Saussure offered a ‘dyadic’ or two-part model of the sign. He defined a sign as being composed of:

- - a ‘signifier’ (signifiant) – the form which the sign takes; and
  - the ‘signified’ (signifié) – the concept it represents.

The sign is the whole that results from the association of the signifier with the signified (Saussure 1983, 67; Saussure 1974, 67). The relationship between the signifier and the signified is referred to as ‘signification’, and this is represented in the Saussurean diagram by the arrows. If we take a linguistic example, the word ‘Open’ (when it is invested with meaning by someone who encounters it on a shop doorway) is a sign consisting of:

a signifier: the word open
a signified concept: that the shop is open for business

The point is that the signifier and signified are unified in the sign. Thus, to say that taking the bread and wine of Communion is necessary for salvation is to say that you must partake of the sign of Jesus’ body and blood, not to say that there is a different source of salvation.

The question, then, is whether physical signs are the means by which God communicates to us. The Catholic church says that they are. According to the Catechism, “In human life, signs and symbols occupy an important place. As a being at once body and spirit, man expresses and perceives spiritual realities through physical signs and symbols. As a social being, man needs signs and symbols to communicate with others, through language, gestures, and actions. The same holds true for his relationship with God” (1146).

I suggest that the Catholic Church is absolutely right about this, and that Evangelicals need to check their semiotics. For Christ is the center of the Christian life, the ultimate means of God’s communication with us, and he Himself is a sign, the Signifier of God, indeed, the Word of God, a physical and efficacious sign like the serpent of old. “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.”

Altar calls

These will not be the most refined thoughts but I think it behooves me to get some of them out of my system in whatever form, and hopefully refine them later.

I believe that God can transform a heart in a single instant. I believe that many people have been changed by the power of the Holy Spirit of Jesus within a worship service. In fact, I believe that worship services are especially fertile environments where God’s spirit works on human hearts. However, I think altar calls are often not a part of that work.

By altar call, I mean the climactic moment where the people are asked to and given the chance to make an individual, subjective response to the truth that has been presented in the service (whether by the sermon or by other means as well). As we discussed when I was on an internal review team at that church, worship is focus + response. The sermon brings the focus, and then there is the opportunity of response. Traditionally, this opportunity includes an invitation to come down to the front and pray with an elder or kneel and pray. In Baptist churches like mine growing up, it begins with “every head bowed, every eye closed” and includes a period where you can silently repeat a prayer after the pastor and then raise your hand to show him that you prayed it, after which point he assures you that your life has been changed today, and to come talk to an elder afterwards. I also include in my definition of altar call the adaptations of many new-generation evangelical churches that are softening these formulations out, just offering an open time to respond with multiple options–you can come down front and pray with an elder, or pray a free-style prayer.

Here’s the thing about altar calls: to the extent that they are overt, they are focused on conversion, and to the extent to which they are not (just “creating a space”), they are subjective and provide no guidance or protection from error.

An overt altar call is always focused on conversion, whether it be new or a “rededication” or some partial rededication of one area or issue in one’s life. The problem with this is that it leaves nothing to do for people who have already converted and devoted their lives to God. I cannot tell you the number of times I have tuned out during the climax of the worship service, saying to myself, “Believer? Check. This doesn’t apply to me.”

Even as many churches move away from such overt altar calls, perhaps sensing the awkwardness of having a gathering comprised mostly of Christians who have already performed the act that is the climax and purpose of the gathering, there are still issues with modified “space for personal response” times. The problem is that they subjectivize the response to God, legitimizing any interpretation of the truth that is presented in the sermon. They turn the whole service into something that is focused on us. It begins with something about God, and then looks at us and asks us to finish off the service by the powers of our own sincerity. The Holy Spirit is beseeched to move on the people, but there is no anchor for the Spirit in Truth. Rather the Truth (the scriptures in the sermon) are a means to the end of an experience in which the Spirit’s movement is located in the unprovable, irrefutable castle of personal conviction. The worship service thus becomes the corporate equivalent of the evangelical private “quiet time” and even the typical small group study: that which is objective truth (the Bible) is subjected to private interpretation and application in each person’s individual mind. Thus Human Reason sits as lord over the Sacred Scriptures.

The problem with this is that it leads to all sorts of misguidedness and error on the part of church members. The only way to avoid this is to guide the people objectively through response as we do through focus–to help them respond in truth as they receive truth. But how can a response be objective? It must have a physical reality, an object outside the human mind. Such an object is not available within Evangelical theology. It is, however, available within the theology of Catholicism, in the Eucharist. This objective act is both receiving and responding to God in a way that is at once both spiritual and physical. This act, and the faith associated with it, roots the faith of the believer in something outside himself and makes the act of worship as Incarnational as the Gospel it professes. The Eucharist is the proper climax of worship and the proper act around which Christians who have already received the waters of Baptism should gather. Instead of being perpetual altar-going converts, plumbing the depths of their personal sincerity for Jesus, they take of his Body and Blood and find his Real Presence before them.

Answers to Protestant claims: A response to James White

James White writes his book Answers to Catholic Claims: A Discussion on Biblical Authority to answer the Catholic who asks, essentially, “We have Tradition as the authority on which we establish and interpret the Bible. Since you reject Tradition as a source of revelation, by what authority do you establish and interpret the Bible?” I read this book in hopes of discovering an answer to what I perceive to be a simply irrefutable train of logic that undermines our ability to reasonably believe that the Bible is trustworthy without recourse to the authority of the Church. White’s response follows the general Protestant rhetoric for affirming the truth of the Bible that I discuss in some of my previous posts, and also adds the claim that Catholic Tradition is anti-biblical. Unfortunately, I believe White fails resoundingly at mounting a cogent argument either for the Bible apart from Tradition or against Tradition from the Bible. I will rehearse and refute his reasoning here with the hope that my Protestant friends and readers will try to come up with some better reasons for trusting the Bible and distrusting the Church (and if you find them, come and tell me also!), or, if they cannot, accept the inevitability that they must believe in both or neither.

PART 1: Reasons to accept the Bible apart from Tradition

What are the alternative bases of authority on which to accept the Bible apart from Tradition? White posits the only alternative that is acceptable to a Protestant: the Bible itself. He attempts to establish the Bible’s own authority on the issue of the reliability of the Bible through several arguments. (1) The Bible witnesses to its own authority, and (2) The Bible’s authority is obvious and self-evident.

(1) The Bible witnesses to its own authority

This is neither scriptural, nor historical, nor logical. White first tries the scriptural approach. He cites 2 Peter 3:16, in which Peter refers to Paul’s writings as scripture. He also mentions a quote in 1 Timothy 5:18 which is sometimes put forward as evidence that Paul ascribes scriptural status to the words of Jesus in Luke, but admits, admirably, that the passage can only be supposed to ascribe to Luke the status of scripture tentatively, at best. Then, on the basis of these two (really one) passages, he says:

“Though these are but a few passages, they give the impression that the writers themselves, though not frequently asserting Scriptural status for their own writings (many of Paul’s commands to the churches partake of an authoritative tone of equal severity to that of Old Testament prophets), did indeed understand that God was about “adding” this new chapter to His revelation of old. This understanding will provide the foundation upon which the later Fathers will build.”

How is the impression that the writers of the New Testament understood that God was adding a new body of scripture to the Old Testament evidence of which scriptures would be a part of it? White uses vague language here as if to conclude that 2 Peter 3:16 enumerates a canon. Is White unaware that other authors than Paul contributed to the New Testament? Which scripture does he put forth to establish the canonicity of 2 Peter, which he uses to canonize Paul (ironically, 2 Peter is one of the most contested and late-canonized books)? Or for that matter, where are any of the four Gospels, the bedrock of the New Testament, declared scripture? Or Hebrews, James, Jude, Revelation, or Acts? Is his proof for these books that Paul uses an “authoritative tone” in his epistles? I do not think anyone would disagree with me that this is preposterous. Ultimately the failure of this argument is not White’s fault; I have researched the scriptures on this topic and can affirm that he has produced all of the scriptures that establish any sort of scriptural status for the writings of the New Testament. The evidence simply isn’t there! We must look to the Church.

White seems to recognize the necessity of dealing with the historical canonization process that occurred within the Church during the first 4 centuries of Christianity. In fact, he gives a good review of the evolving concept of the canon among the Church Fathers leading up to the Council of Nicea, summarizing in conclusion that, “though some books were less widely accepted than others, the vast majority of the material that comprises the 27 books was already in place and functioning as canon Scripture.” So far so good. Unfortunately, he then reverts to his presupposition and blunders, “Long before any ‘church council’ made any decisions about a ‘canon’ of Scripture, the Scriptures themselves were functioning with full and complete authority in matters of doctrine.” If the canon was not completely formed until the Council of Nicea, how could it have been functioning with “full and complete authority” before that? Surely it could not be functioning fully before it was formed fully? By White’s own concept of scripture, its limits, as well as its contents, are holy. Not noticing this inconsistency, White marches onward and denies the role of the Church Fathers’ own authority in the formation of the canon: “There is no discussion [by the early Fathers] of the Church having some kind of ability to ‘create canonical authority.’ Rather, the Fathers attempt to base their arguments upon those very Scriptures, showing clearly their recognition of the inherent (not contingent or transferred) authority of those writings.” White is flatly wrong here! For the sake of brevity permit me to select just one Father, but one whose endorsement both Catholics and Protestants covet: Augustine of Hippo. That great doctor of the church says that the authority of the books of the Bible is confirmed to us by the consensus of the Church.

“The excellence of the canonical authority of the Old and New Testaments is distinct from the books of later writers. This authority was confirmed in the times of the Apostles through the succession of bishops and the propagation of churches, as if it was settled in a heavenly manner in a kind of seat to which every believing and pious mind lives in obedience. (Against Faustus, 11.5)

Elsewhere he says, “I would not believe in the Gospel myself if the authority of the Catholic Church did not influence me to do so.” For a larger discussion of Augustine’s acceptance of Tradition, see this article by Dr. Kenneth Howell. Augustine echoes the consistent expressions of the early Church Fathers on the factors by which they affirmed the authority of the canonical books—they were in accord with the orthodox message of the Gospel preserved through the Church lineage, and were attested by the precedent of their use and acceptance in the early Church. What is unprecedented is White’s claim that their authority was simply “inherent.”

(2) The Bible’s authority is obvious and self-evident

White produces another reason by which we can know that the Bible is authentic: it’s obvious! He quotes John Calvin:

“It as if someone asked: Whence will we learn to distinguish light from darkness, white from black, sweet from bitter? Indeed, Scripture exhibits fully as clear evidence of its own truth as white and black things do of their color, or sweet and bitter things do of their taste.”

I deal with this quote at length in this post in response to John Piper’s book A Peculiar Glory, but suffice it to say that this is obviously a subjective basis. White is uncomfortable with that, though, and disclaims, “Anyone who reads chapters 6-9 in Book 1 of Calvin’s Institutes will see that he does not assert a “subjective” basis for the canon of Scripture, but bases its authority upon the author of the words, the Holy Spirit of God.” However, the appeal to the Holy Spirit–a key move in the Protestant rhetoric–remains subjective! I think it was when I realized this that I saw what deep kimchi we Protestants were in. For if we ask Calvin how a man can be sure that the scriptures are true, and he replies, “The Holy Spirit affirms the scriptures to a man,” then we need to ask one more question, “How can a man be sure that the Holy Spirit has confirmed such to him?” Calvin’s reply can only be that he can approve of an impression in his mind by virtue of the fact that it aligns with scripture. This is begging the question, a logical loop. It should produce in the thinking Christian’s mind a large blinking red alert that he has erred fundamentally in his thinking.

Calvin does not seem to be aware of, or at least not concerned about, the danger of this loop; he does not expect anyone to challenge the obviousness of the truth of the Scriptures, saying, “While the Church receives and gives its seal of approval to the Scriptures, it does not thereby render authentic what is otherwise doubtful or controversial.” But Calvin did not see the great storm of historical criticism and all the modern heresies that would assay knights of scholarship and legions of opinions to tear the Bible apart with doubt and controversy in the centuries that followed. This is not the place to get into it, but I have suspected that the Reformers themselves, in the great schism that shook the western Church, unwittingly unlocked the doors that would unleash the hordes of the enlightenment to terrorize Christianity. It is these opponents of Christianity, intellectually raping and pillaging those Christians who live today in the defenseless fields of a supposed consensus, that have driven me back into the fortress of the Church. It is from there alone we can mount a counter-attack.

Perhaps perturbed by the idea of being caught red-handed in a logical loop, White blames Catholics for making the same error. Citing Karl Keating, he references the Catholic teaching on how we can know that the Bible is infallible:

The Bible can be reasonably be trusted to be historically accurate for external reasons.
The Bible claims that the Church will be infallible.
This infallible Church claims that the Bible is inspired and inerrant.

White claims that this is circular. He doesn’t explain exactly how, but we can presume he means in a pattern that goes something like: “How do we know the Bible is inspired?”→ “Because the Church says so.”→ “How do we know the Church is right?”→ “Because the Bible says so.” However, this does not accurately represent the Church’s stance; rather it shows that if Catholics believed in sola scriptura it would be circular; but Catholics do not. The Catholic Church claims to be right on the basis of apostolic succession, a historical phenomenon whose reliability is independent of the text of the Bible. If apostolic succession means a historical chain of witnesses leading all the way back to Jesus, then it’s not circular, but linear. You can attack the links in the chain but you can’t call it circular.

White also says that the Catholic church is circular in its claims to have authority of interpretation:

“Once a group determines that any interpretation that is not in harmony with its own teachings is automatically to be dismissed, on what basis can anyone every say, “you’ve made an error”? There is no way of self-correction left when the one source that could demonstrate the error of the Roman Church’s teachings is placed in absolute submission to the interpretive decisions of the Roman curia” (Loc 618).

This is a straw-man of the Catholic teaching; in reality, the magisterium of the Catholic Church bases its interpretations on the precedent of the Church’s historical tradition, and especially the Scriptures themselves. Yes, contrary to White’s assumption, the decisions of the magisterium are carefully weighed against scripture. Look at any Catholic decree and you will find numerous references to both Church Fathers and to Scripture. The magisterium does not make its decisions independently or capriciously. In the end, despite White’s tu quoque, it is only the Protestant who is left begging the question.

To sum up Part 1, the Protestant appeal to the Bible as the authority upon which to ratify the authority of the Bible is not found in the Bible or the early Church, and it’s a logical error to boot. White fails in his attempt to establish any objective means by which, having rejected Tradition, we can affirm the Bible. I do not think it is his fault—none exist. If we are to affirm the Bible, and if we are discontented with subjective means of doing so that fall apart under the scrutiny of modern questions, then our only recourse is to the Sacred Tradition of the Church.

PART 2: Whether Catholic Tradition and the Bible contradict each other

In addition to attempting to establish an independent basis for the Bible, White’s treatise aims to show that the teachings of the Catholic Church contradict the Bible. White is right that the Church should still be in line with the Bible; God does not contradict himself. Therefore, let us enter into a discussion as fellow Bible-believing Christians to consider this accusation.

At the outset we must make an important distinction between what is unbiblical and what is anti-biblical. Something that is unbiblical is not in the Bible (neither explicitly nor as a clear and logical consequence), but is not contradictory to it; whereas something anti-biblical is both unbiblical and contradictory to the Bible. Examples of merely unbiblical teachings, courtesy of Mark Shea‘s book By What Authority?, include the traditional Christian prohibitions of male polygamy and abortion. These prohibitions are not in the Bible, thus unbiblical, but neither are they contradictory to it (not anti-biblical), since the Bible certainly does not endorse male polygamy or abortion. An example of something anti-biblical would be, say, a belief that God has allowed the Body of Christ to stray fundamentally into error, since this is contrary to the promises of God made in Scripture.

Now, the question is, is Catholic Tradition not just unbiblical, but anti-biblical? White says several times that it is anti-biblical: “Many doctrinal formulations that Rome claims ‘developed’ over time, that Protestants point out are not only non-Biblical but downright anti-Biblical, came about as…a process of slowly departing from Christian doctrine,” and “The doctrines that Rome teaches that are supposedly based upon these ancient traditions…are themselves often contradictory to the teachings of the Lord and His Apostles contained in the New Testament.” Is he right?

No. White has made a crucial error in common with many Protestants: he has mistaken unbiblical for anti-biblical, on the basis of the presupposition that anything that is unbiblical is anti-biblical; that is, he assumes sola scriptura. His accusation is that, since Catholic Tradition exceeds what is clear from scripture, it therefore contradicts scripture, because scripture forbids anything to exceed it. If we begin with this presupposition, we will be able to fairly easily repudiate numerous Catholic traditions and Tradition itself. However, if we do not begin with this presupposition, I assert that we will not be able to repudiate any Catholic tradition. So let us ask, is sola scriptura itself taught in scripture? Does the Bible exclude Tradition as a source of revelation, asserting its exclusivity as the word of God? White says yes. Let’s look at his arguments.

White’s main argument is that the infallibility and inerrancy of scripture implies its exclusivity of authority. Throughout the book, he firmly establishes that the Bible is infallible and inerrant and God-breathed (as if Catholics disagree with this, which they do not). He then somehow concludes that the Bible is sufficient alone. It is very hard to find any attempt at a coherent logical connection to this effect; the best I can find is: “If God is consistent, then His revelation will be without contradiction; it will speak with one voice, present one truth. Hence, if the Bible is His Word, then the Bible will be sufficient in and of itself for the determination of all those doctrines and truths addressed within its pages” (Loc 582). It seems that he is saying that, since God’s word must be without contradiction and in harmony, it must therefore be from one source. But this is nonsense—certainly my wife and I hold many consistent opinions and are in harmony on various issues, though we are two people.

Another tack by which White denounces Tradition is an Argument from Silence. (This type of reasoning, common in historical studies, is basically that if the author had known about or believed something, he would have mentioned it, and that, since he is silent, we can conclude he didn’t know or believe it.) Now, Argument from Silence is sometimes fallacious, though it is not necessarily so; it is sometimes a reasonable method of making soft conclusions. For example, if I read all of my grandfather’s letters to my grandmother during his deployment in World War II, and he never mentions engaging in active combat, I can surmise that there is a likelihood he did not do so, since it is not unreasonable to suppose that at some point during his whole deployment, he would have made at least some reference to combat (combat being pretty worth mentioning to most soldiers). However, I cannot definitively conclude that he never engaged in active combat unless I know enough to rule out other factors that could have affected his silence, such as whether he was trying to protect my grandmother from fear, or whether he was protecting classified information. Nevertheless, some sort of theory can be established from an Argument from Silence. The Argument from Silence becomes fallacious, however, when it attempts to make hard claims that a particular text would have mentioned something, or, having mentioned it obliquely, would have defined it more clearly or explicitly. This is to assume a vast knowledge of the historical, contextual, and personal factors that influenced the author in writing that text, and often assumes they align with the arguer’s current agenda. For example, imagine that I, being of a pacifist heritage, am attempting to show that my grandfather did not engage in active combat in World War II, and I produce a letter in which he mentions landing at Normandy in June 1944. I cannot claim from this that he would have mentioned engaging in combat in that letter if he had engaged in combat at all, since Normandy was, as we all know, one of the most important assaults, and that since he didn’t mention it here, he probably didn’t fight at all. Neither can I say that he only said he “landed” in Normandy, and he would have surely clarified that this was during combat if he had wanted us to know he had been in combat. This kind of Argument from Silence doesn’t prove anything, and erroneously shifts the burden of proof away from the person making the claim.

Well, the scriptures are not silent on tradition, and do not permit a valid form of Argument from Silence; White’s arguments, instead, are of the fallacious kind that attempts to decipher too much meaning out of what particular passages don’t say. Let’s look at several of the major often-discussed verses and what White says about them. First, 2 Timothy 3:14-17:

But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have firmly believed, knowing from whom you learned it and how from childhood you have been acquainted with the sacred writings, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus. All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work.

White commentates, “Roman Catholics might think this refers to ‘sacred tradition’ that would exist side-by-side with, but contain other ‘revelation’ than, the Holy Scriptures. But this is not borne out by the text, for the message he has received in the Gospel is to be found in the Sacred Scriptures themselves.” How do we know this? White answers with a rhetorical question: “Is there even a hint in Paul’s words that to be ‘thoroughly equipped for every good work’ one needs ‘sacred tradition’?”

Well, the answer to his question is yes. When we are talking about Sacred Tradition, we are talking about what Timothy “had learned and firmly believed” of which “the sacred scriptures” which he had been acquainted with since childhood were a subset or companion. White seems to be implying an argument from silence, as if he expects further elaboration from the author because “it surely would have been specified more clearly.” Or perhaps White means that since Paul only said here that the scriptures were profitable for training in righteousness, he implies that oral teachings he mentioned are not, which is again fallacious argument from silence. Let’s consider another verse, 1 Thessalonians 2:13:

And we also thank God constantly for this, that when you received the word of God, which you heard from us, you accepted it not as the word of men but as what it really is, the word of God, which is at work in you believers.

This indicates that the word of God was an oral tradition delivered to the Thessalonians before the epistle was sent. White challenges:

“There is absolutely no indication whatsoever that there is any difference in content between the message preached to the Thessalonians and the one contained in the written epistle. The Roman Catholic Church has no basis in this passage at all to assert that the content of these ‘traditions’ differs in the slightest from what is contained in the New Testament.”

This is fallaciously shifting the burden of proof! If White claims their content was the same, he should prove that it was so, not argue from the silence of the text that it surely must have been so, and challenge anyone to prove that it wasn’t. Let’s look at one more verse, 2 Timothy 2:2:

And what you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses entrust to faithful men who will be able to teach others also.

While a surface reading of this text clearly implies an oral tradition, White says:

“Now are we to believe that what Paul taught in the presence of many witnesses is different than what is contained in the pages of the New Testament? Are we to believe that the content of this teaching differed from what Paul wrote to the Romans, Galatians, or Ephesians?…Why should we limit what Timothy is to pass on to only those things that are not contained in the Bible?”

No one is limiting it to things not found in the Bible, but on what basis does White suppose that it is limited to things found in the Bible? It is again a shifted burden of proof supported only by White’s indignant incredulity.

Here are some more examples of the pervasiveness of this fallacy in White’s book, one regarding Jesus and one regarding the early Church in Acts:

“Jesus gave absolutely no indication that His acceptance of the sacred writings was based upon the testimony of an “infallible church” that told Him to believe in them. They were to be believed simply because they were the words of God.”

“There is nothing in the fact that the early believers in Jerusalem devoted themselves to the Apostles’ teaching that indicates that this teaching to which they devoted themselves is other than what we have in the New Testament! Is there anything that would suggest that what the Apostles taught was different than what they taught believers later by epistle? Do we not have accounts of the early sermons in the book of Acts that tell us what the Apostles were teaching then? Do we find the Apostles saying ‘what we tell you now we will pass down only by mouth as a separate mode of revelation known as tradition, and later we will write down some other stuff that will become sacred Scripture’?”

Although no evidence is needed against such poor reasoning, the Catholic Church does incidentally have evidence that these traditions are not merely synonymous with the content of the scriptures. Basil the Great, a contemporary of Augustine and revered leader of the Church, says that the early Church by the time of the canonization of Scripture clearly understood that there was more to the deposit of faith than the Scriptures. Here is the larger passage, but this excerpt will drive the point home:

Of the beliefs and practices whether generally accepted or publicly enjoined which are preserved in the Church some we possess derived from written teaching; others we have received delivered to us in a mystery by the tradition of the apostles; and both of these in relation to true religion have the same force. And these no one will gainsay—no one, at all events, who is even moderately versed in the institutions of the Church. For were we to attempt to reject such customs as have no written authority, on the ground that the importance they possess is small, we should unintentionally injure the Gospel in its very vitals.

The danger of White’s argumentation from silence climaxes when he says, “The Gospel is defined in Scripture, not in oral traditions, and when a person’s speaking is no longer based upon what is written in Scripture, his authority is gone.” By White’s reasoning, the Gospel that Paul delivered to the Thessalonians and to Timothy orally, prior to their receiving any of the New Testament writings, had no authority (even though Paul appeals to such authority in Scripture!). White would probably dodge this by saying that the Gospel was based on the Old Testament, but this does no good, since White says that the Gospel is not only “based on” but “defined in” written Scripture; that is, unless one wants to say that the Gospel that Paul and the apostles spread was defined within the writings of the Old Testament, which is not merely an obvious falsehood, but in opposition to the very idea of the New Covenant founded on the blood of Jesus Christ, the fullness of Revelation who came to fulfill the law and the prophets. Instead of such nonsense we should agree with the Bible that The Old Testament served as a witness to the Gospel of the apostles, and that this Gospel was an oral tradition before it was written. Thus we realize that the Catholic idea of Tradition is not unbiblical, and we can conclude from this that sola scriptura is anti-biblical!

As a final aside that I cannot help but mention, I think it should be red flag to all serious-minded Christians that White presumes to oppose early Church fathers including Irenaeus, Tertullian and Origen. He says, “Rather than directing people solely to the Scriptures, some of these early Fathers made the grave error of seeking a source of authority outside of the completed revelation of God,” and “As noted above, many of these early Fathers did not have access to information (linguistic and historical) that we do today.” It is a grave error to oppose historic Christianity based on unfounded and unbiblical presuppositions, and to presume that the nature of the faith once for all delivered to the saints is contained in linguistic and historical scholarship, more than in the living Body of Christ on the earth, in which such Fathers were foremost, being the vessels through which God chose to protect and deliver to us both the Bible and the whole sacred heritage of our faith in Christ.

We have gone through White’s arguments and, with all due respect, found nothing but straw. My conclusion is simply to ask if any of my Protestant brethren have anything better to offer, and if they do not, ask them whether they are really willing to “test everything and hold onto the good.” It was a pivotal moment for me when I realized with dawning wonder and no lack of irony that sola scriptura was unbiblical, while a developing, living tradition among the people of God was biblical, and that, if I was going to hold on to my faith in Christianity and my trust in the Bible at all, I had to relinquish the sort of Christianity I had always assumed, and the iron clamps by which I had resisted anything besides the Bible, and step with Abrahamic faith into a larger world of Christianity.

Culpability and authority

It was suggested to me today by a colleague that the Church is hardly a reliable authority upon which to base our faith in the Bible or Christianity, because of the many atrocities committed throughout the history of the Church (Inquisition, Crusades, and the like). It is quite impossible to argue that the Church has been lily white in its history–indeed it has been marred repeatedly by corruption and scandal, from popes to parish priests (Just read up on Pope Alexander VI as a starting point). No sort of defense of the Church can stand that starts with the assumption that its authority depends on its blamelessness. The only defense that comes, and it is the only one needed, is that the Church has never pretended to be blameless; in fact, her mantra, the very essence of her message, has always been the acknowledgement of her (and everyone else’s) blame. The Church claims more blood on her hands than her opponents could ever catch her with.

The remarkable claim of the church is that she is authoritative not on the basis of her own merit but on the basis of Jesus’ anointing. She claims that Jesus promised that she would never fundamentally stray or err in doctrine; in other words, that she would preserve the true faith. It is no more necessary for her to be blameless in order to do this than it is necessary to be bald in order to be a barber, or to be a billionaire in order to be a banker. In fact I am the most suspicious of barbers who are bald, and of bankers who are billionaires, and of priests who are perfect.

The real question in examining the Church’s authority is whether Jesus really gave her this charge and whether she has ever fundamentally shifted in her teaching. We will find that, emerging from first century Palestine like an unflinching stallion, the Church has always defended the same message, God’s grace through the blood of Jesus, prevailing over sin and granting those who believe in his name the right to be called the sons and daughters of God, imbued with all the divine authority befitting such a bloodline.

ex opere operato Christi

On conversions between Catholicism and Protestantism

Having grown up as a Protestant, I have heard countless testimonies of people who were “raised in the Catholic church,” but never had a real, personal faith until they found Jesus at a Protestant church later in life. It is almost a cliche in churches like mine. All the Catholic church seemed to be able to produce were spiritually dead Christmas-and-Easter Pseudo-Christians. This evidence formed the impression in me and most of my churchmates that the Catholic church was itself spiritually dead.

Recently, I have become aware of the existence of active, practicing Catholics. Their existence creates a rather interesting observation: not once in my years as a Southern Baptist did I ever meet a former Catholic who was an active, practicing Catholic at the time of their conversion to Protestantism. It seems that the only way these once-Catholics entered Protestant churches was by a decay or regression in their faith (or in the facade of supposed faith), passing through a period of non-religion or spiritual inactivity. In other words, these former Catholics became Protestant after a progression in which they became less Christian. I have never met a convert from Catholicism who experienced the opposite path–that of increasing devotion to his Catholic form of the Christian faith leading to the discovering of Protestantism as a purer, better way to practice his faith. Someone may come forward to testify against it, but it seems to me that Catholics who become Protestants are Catholics who have become less Christian, never those who have become more Christian and embraced Protestantism as a higher form of Christianity.

I have far less evidence for the case of Protestants who become Catholics, but the limited cases I have heard would lead me to tentatively suggest that the trend goes in quite the opposite direction: Protestants who become Catholics are almost always active, practicing Protestants at the time of their conversion, and they embrace Catholicism as a higher form of Christianity. Protestants do not experience a period of doubt about the whole foundation of Christianity, a loss of love for or faith in Christ and the gospel and the essence of our faith, and then, at the end of this process, discover Catholicism. Perhaps there are cases to the contrary, but I sense that generally it holds true.

To show another angle of what I mean, the folks at Called to Communion have pointed out that former-Catholic Protestants tend to be hostile towards the Catholicism of their upbringing, rejecting Catholicism as a body that has lost its Christian soul, whereas former-Protestant Catholics tend to extend mercy towards the Protestantism of their upbringing, accepting it as a Christian soul that has lost her body. The attitude of the Catholic who used to be Protestant is towards pity and reconciliation, whereas the attitude of the Protestant who used to be Catholic is towards resentment and refutation.

If these observations prove true, then they may suggest which is the truer form of Christianity, for Christianity itself would seem to instruct us that its truest form will attract the truest and most devout of all Christians, and will have the most charity toward the other forms, while its weakest form will attract the most disenchanted Christians, and be the most hostile toward other forms.

The authority to interpret scripture

In the previous essay I concluded that the Bible is reliable on the basis of the authority of the institutional Church to establish Christian practice and doctrine. But, although Protestants accept from the hand of Tradition both the Bible and its companions, the Creeds, they reject the authority of the Tradition of the Church today (as the battle cry “sola scriptura” proclaims). Such authority must have been removed from the Church sometime (perhaps gradually) between the 4^th Century and the 16^th Century, at which point the Reformation occurred. I have heard it explained in roughly these words: “God gave the institutional Church authority through the apostolic age and through the age of the councils, so that the Bible would be reliably formed, but since the closure of the Canon, the authority to interpret doctrine no longer resides with the leaders of the Church, but with all believers, since the meaning of the Bible is evident and apparent within its completed pages and stands on its own.” Authority to interpret has been removed from the Church, and given to all who can read the Bible for themselves. It is a good thing to read the Bible for oneself, but to place the power to interpret the Bible into the hands of everyone is to destroy all certainty of truth.

The Zionist First Church of God of Holiness

We become aware of this if we consider the hundreds of different protestant denominations, many of which we can agree are dubiously orthodox. Take, for example, Reverend Michael at the Zionist First Church of God of Holiness down the street, who claims to be an apostle, slays people with the spirit, and drives a Rolls Royce because the Holy Spirit told him to tell his congregation to contribute to the work of the Lord. We can’t accept his authority, can we? But on what basis do we reject it? We will answer, “His teaching and lifestyle doesn’t line up with the Bible.” But Apostle Michael quotes heavily from the Bible all the time. So, on what basis do we claim that his teachings don’t line up? “He misinterprets scripture.” And how do we know that he is misinterpreting scripture? Because we know how to correctly interpret the meaning of scripture. On what grounds are we certain of our interpretations?

The first and most common line of reasoning that comes to the Protestant mind is, I believe, based on an incorrect assumption.

Intrinsic meaning?

The Protestant will probably answer that we can be certain of our interpretations because, by careful study of Greek, Hebrew, and biblical history, we can know the original intention of the author to his audience, situated in the historical, linguistic, and textual context, and discovering this intention is to know the meaning of the text. This is based on a key assumption about the nature of meaning shared by most evangelicals and expressed by John Piper:

“The grammatical-historical method…aims to get at something intrinsic to the text, namely its meaning.”

Piper defines the meaning of a text as the author’s intention (as discernible from the historical, linguistic, cultural context, etc.) and claims authority to know it based on the fact that the intention is intrinsic to the words of the text. However, it is decidedly not the case that an author’s intention is intrinsic to his words.

Permit me to get technical for a moment. All meaning is conveyed between interlocutors using a process of coding, transferring, and decoding messages. Words, whether “well formulated in writing” or in spoken utterance, are the signs of meaning, the material used in transfer. In a precise semiology, words are not identical to the author’s intention. The intention or meaning is conveyed by the words in conjunction with the encoding and decoding apparatuses of both interlocutors. My ability to understand someone’s intention is dependent on how well they interpret the message into a form I can understand and how well I interpret the form of their message back into an intention. Therefore, the author’s intention is not simply intrinsic to his words, but passes between him and the reader by the instrument of his words within a communicative act that includes interpretation on both their parts.

Such a denial of the role of interpretation in meaning causes us to (unintentionally) neglect God’s role in interpreting scripture to us, and overemphasize our role. This brings us to the real grounds on which Protestants are sure of their interpretations of scripture.

Faith in Reason

What asserting the intrinsic meaning of the texts of scripture is really doing is placing the full power and responsibility to interpret scripture in the hands of Reason, the faculty of the human mind.

At first, we depend on reason only under the guise of scholarship–“Enough rigorous study and education eventually grant the authority to interpret scripture reliably.” However, the subjection of the scriptures to rational scholarship has, in the past four centuries, produced an enormous amount of scholarship doubting nearly everything that can be believed about the Bible, not to mention thousands of fractures of communion based on contradictions of interpretation. Must we accept the positions of any liberal pastor, any linguist, any historical-critical professor of theology who puts forward a new interpretation of scripture based on scholarly study? If we do, then all we will have left of our Christianity will be an emasculated, ham-strung collection of historical happy thoughts. If we say no, then we must again answer, “On what basis?” It is tempting to pretend that there is a consensus among scholars that we might give authority to, by presenting a list of opinions that excludes scholars we deem to be unorthodox, but as with the Canon we will find ourselves begging the question again.

In the end, the only thing we have left to put forward as the sure authority for the interpretation of scripture is our own reason and intellect. But here we have come to something as indefensible as Reverend Michael’s sermon at the Zionist First Church of God of Holiness, for no man who says that the Holy Spirit spoke to him can be proved wrong, and neither can a man who gives ultimate authority to his own reason. But no reasonable person absolutely relies upon his reason. The sane person never absolutely trusts his sanity. As G.K. Chesterton says, “The sane man knows that he has a touch of the beast, a touch of the devil, a touch of the saint, a touch of the citizen. Nay, the really sane man knows that he has a touch of the madman.” In contrast, it is a mark of the insane man that he fixates on his own reasonings. “The madman is not the man who has lost his reason. The madman is the man who has lost everything except his reason.” The rational man must admit that he is not exempt from the weaknesses of the mind that cause other men to err with the utmost sincerity, and he will look for something greater than himself in which to anchor his understanding of the divine mysteries.

The Church, the interpreter

What shall we say, then? Here lies the Bible before us, but how can we interpret its meaning into our lives with confidence? Surely God has provided a reliable interpreter. We need an interpreter whose authority is neither merely human (as the scholar’s reason) nor merely divine (as the charismatic’s spirit), but has a foot in both, possessing the same dual nature as our Lord Jesus Himself, who is fully God and fully Man. Where can we find such an interpreter? She stands before us in the One True Church, whose Body is on earth and whose Head is in heaven. It was she that gave us the scriptures by the power vested in her, and it is she who continues to give them to this very day. If she does not interpret for us, there can be no sure interpretation.

The authority to interpret the Bible lies today in the same hands as it did in the 4^th century, those of the Church. We need to repent of our trust in our own minds, which does not bring glory to God, and instead gladly submit to the safety of the authority of the Living Body of Christ which preserves truth. We must accept the holy and catholic Church as the agency through which God has promised to guide our interpretations of scripture and proclaim its truth in power throughout the earth.