Tag Archives: Christianity

St. Ignatius of Antioch, Witness of the Early Church, and Three Important Lessons He Can Teach Us

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Ignatius of Antioch

St. Ignatius of Antioch

Today is the feast day of St. Ignatius of Antioch, Bishop and Martyr. St. Ignatius was born in Syria ca. 50, and is believed to have been a disciple of the Apostle St. John. He became the third Bishop of Antioch, following St. Peter and St. Evodius, in ca. 69. In about 108, on the authority of the emperor Trajan, St. Ignatius was arrested and condemned to die for his faith before a Roman audience.

It is at this point that he becomes for us one of the greatest μάρτυρες (martyrs) of the Early Church. A martyr in Greek literally is a witness, one who gives testimony — and in his death, St. Ignatius not only bore great testimony for his faith in Christ, but he bears great testimony to us in this day of the faith, beliefs, and practices of the Early Church. For on his way to Rome, he wrote seven letters to the Churches of Asia Minor, exhorting them to remain firm in their faith, and to the Church at Rome, admonishing the believers there not to intervene and prevent him from giving his ultimate witness.

Martyrdom of Ignatius

The Martyrdom of St. Ignatius of Antioch

A.D. 108 — this is scarcely two generations from the time of Christ’s earthly ministry, at the very closing of the Apostolic Age: the Apostle John is believed to have died as late as ca. 100. Ignatius of Antioch lived early enough to have known several of the Apostles and heard their teachings. He was held in high esteem by the entire Church, a well-known, respected, and authoritative bishop and teacher. He was notorious enough even outside the Church for Trajan to have made an example of him. So we have every reason to trust Ignatius’s testimony regarding the faith of the Christian Church of his day — the faith received from the Apostles.

What Ignatius can teach us

The Authority of the Bishop

Bishops' Croziers

The crozier, one of the symbols of the episcopate.

There has been considerable debate among historians about the development of the episcopacy and at what point in the growth of the Church the office of bishop came to mean what it means to the Church today. Bishops (or overseers — the Greek is ἐπίσκοποι* [episkopoi]) are described in the New Testament (Philippians 1:1, 1 Timothy 3:1-7, Titus 1:7), but it appears that in the earliest days of the Church, the offices of bishop and presbyter (πρεσβύτερος [presbyteros], or elder — the presbyters of the Church became what we call priests) may have been to some extent synonymous. (For example, in 1 Peter 5:1, St. Peter refers to himself as a fellow presbyter†; in the above passage in 1 Timothy 3, St. Paul describes the offices of bishop and deacon but not presbyter.) The governance of the local church by only one monarchical bishop, as came to be the model and continues to be the model, is known to historians as the monoepiscopacy — with some liberal scholars, such as Bart Ehrman, suggesting that it was not established until well into the second century. This has particular bearing on the claims of the Church of Rome — for its bishop is also known as the pope, and as the successor of St. Peter, claims primacy over the whole Church.

* See “Bishops and Priests” for a lengthier discussion of the Greek for this terms.

† In the Church to this day, however, all bishops are presbyters (priests), but not all priests are bishops.

St. Clement of Rome’s Epistle to the Corinthians (1 Clement), dated ca. 95, does not give explicit evidence of the monoepiscopacy (neither does it contradict it). But St. Ignatius’s letters, dated ca. 107, give absolute and undeniable evidence of the monoepiscopacy, and he asserts it as a known and established fact, not as a recent institution:

See that you all follow the bishop, even as Jesus Christ does the Father, and the presbytery [i.e. the priests] as you would the apostles; and reverence the deacons, as being the institution of God. Let no man do anything connected with the Church without the bishop. Let that be deemed a proper Eucharist, which is [administered] either by the bishop, or by one to whom he has entrusted it. Wherever the bishop shall appear, there let the multitude [of the people] also be; even as, wherever Jesus Christ is, there is the Catholic Church. It is not lawful without the bishop either to baptize or to celebrate a love-feast; but whatsoever he shall approve of, that is also pleasing to God, so that everything that is done may be secure and valid. (Epistle to the Smyrnaeans 8)

Not only does the bishop have absolute authority in the local church, but neither baptisms nor the Eucharist are valid without the ministry or approval of the bishop. This establishes definitely the monoepiscopacy, the subordinate roles of presbyters and deacons, and the authority of the bishop over the Sacraments of the Church. Ignatius compares the office of the bishop in every community of believers to the presence of Jesus in the Eucharist — Wherever Jesus Christ is, there is the Catholic Church. (This is also the earliest known description of the Church as Catholic, or universal.)

The Belief in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist

Eucharistic adoration

The Catholic Church believes that in the Eucharist, the elements of bread and wine become in reality the Body and Blood of Christ. Many Protestant detractors argue that this doctrine is a later development and not a true apostolic teaching (despite clear statements in Scripture, e.g. 1 Corinthians 11:27-29). St. Ignatius, however, attests firmly to the Church’s belief in the Real Presence in the first decade of the second century — a much earlier time than Protestants would like to admit, and too soon after the Apostles for such a doctrine to have been “invented”:

But consider those who are of a different opinion with respect to the grace of Christ which has come unto us, how opposed they are to the will of God. . . . They abstain from the Eucharist and from prayer, because they confess not the Eucharist to be the flesh (σάρξ) of our Saviour Jesus Christ, which suffered for our sins, and which the Father, of His goodness, raised up again. (Epistle to the Smyrnaeans 6–7)

The Compilation of the New Testament

Codex Vaticanus

A leaf from Codex Vaticanus, one of the earliest extant manuscripts of the Greek New Testament.

Third and finally, Ignatius’s writings demonstrate a thorough knowledge of the New Testament Scriptures, and he quotes from them as if from memory — it is unlikely that he would have been traveling to his death with a full church library. Working from the citations labeled by the editors of the texts at New Advent, I find:

  • Matthew
  • John
  • Romans
  • 1 Corinthians
  • Galatians
  • Ephesians
  • Philippians
  • Colossians
  • 1 Thessalonians
  • 1 Timothy
  • 2 Timothy
  • James
  • 1 Peter
  • 1 John

Considering the contemporaneous Martyrdom of Ignatius, believed to have been written by eyewitnesses to Ignatius’s death — probably the believers who accompanied him to Rome — adds Acts and 2 Corinthians to the list above.

NOTE (2013/10/30): I may have to review this argument. It seems the editors of the Ante-Nicene Fathers may have been a little overzealous in their citations, and marked as Scripture references passages and phrases that were not explicitly Scripture references. I withhold a verdict at this time, until I can study the problem more deeply.

That makes for a fairly comprehensive collection of New Testament documents. Ignatius was familiar with the writings of St. Paul, St. Peter, St. John, and St. James, as well as the Gospel of Matthew — the citations ascribed to which, I suppose, might include references to the other Synoptic Gospels also. For a date mere decades after these documents were written — and these documents having been written in diverse parts of the Christian world — the Church seems to have very quickly assembled the collection known as the New Testament nearly in its entirety. And what’s more, Ignatius quotes from the New Testament with the same authority as he quotes from Old Testament Scripture — certainly the Church in Ignatius’s day considered the Gospels and apostolic letters holy, inspired writings. By the first decade of the second century, the Church had nearly (if not fully) assembled intact the body of Scripture that has been handed down to the Church today.

The Audacity of Pope: Everything I’ve ever tried to say about Church Authority

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Pope

When I get busy and enfrazzled, I get behind on my blog-reading. So forgive me for reposting an entry that’s now a month and a half old. But Called to Communion, ever one of my favorite blogs, has offered a brilliant piece by Neal Judisch, a Catholic convert from the Reformed tradition, that says everything I’ve ever tried to say about church authority — toward sola scriptura, toward the Magisterium, most of all toward the epistemological trap that Protestants fall into regarding scriptural interpretation — only in a clearer, more robust, more comprehensive way than I ever could; every argument, tied neatly and powerfully together. And most important and thought-provoking of all — Judisch demonstrates how the Catholic Church’s position, seeming from the outside to place so much authority in the hands of men, is actually the far more humble and self-effacing position than sola scriptura, which places ultimate authority in one’s own individual interpretation and conscience.

Similar remarks apply, as we’ve also seen, to the question of “Tradition” and “Magisterium.” The idea of an authoritative tradition and ecclesial teaching organ had sounded uncomfortable to my Protestant ears, since it sounded as though Catholics didn’t think the Bible was enough, that the words of mere men had to be added so as to round off and complete what was apparently lacking in the very Word of God. Here again, I thought, the Catholics were detracting from Scripture and its Author by putting mere men on some sort of par with them, and the human element was being unduly exalted once more.

Yet from a Catholic perspective this gets things upside down. For the Protestant alternative is to say that since Scripture alone is infallible, that means the Church cannot claim such authority when it comes to Scriptural interpretation. At the same time, we know we cannot simply leave this task to each individual Christian, for neither the individual Christian nor the tradition to which he belongs can claim to possess some sort of authority that he refuses to attribute to the Church. So, we are left with the question of how we can know, how we can decide with confidence, which of the endlessly diverse and contradictory Christian traditions has things right – hardly a trivial matter, if it might mean heresy on the one hand or fidelity to the Faith on the other.

And such sums up the conflict over authority that brought me to Catholicism in the first place.

Read the rest: “The Audacity of Pope”

This article, as CtC always is, is meaty, lengthy, and will stretch your theological muscles — but I encourage everyone to read it, as I encourage anyone of a Reformed background to examine CtC and consider its arguments. I pray every day for the reunion of Christ’s Church, and CtC is the most powerful voice of Christian unity I know.

Off the map

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(It’s been months since I last posted an entry in my personal story. That’s because this next chapter is one of the most painful, and most personal. I was nearly inclined to skip over it — but it’s an important prelude to the events that followed. I’ve written three or four entries and discarded each as insufficient. Yesterday I wrote another one, what I thought was the final one — but it still felt too distant, too detached. So last night I read about a year of my journal entries from that period, and remembered the agony. I think now I’m ready.)

“Desert Road” (2008) by Matt Hintsa. (Flickr, CC-licensed)

My experiences in Rome had woken me from my spiritual apathy, and reminded me that there was a God who loved me. I knew in my mind that I needed Him. I set about, in my own striving, to seek Him. But I was still too caught up in myself — my life, my needs, my pain, my wounds — to truly embrace Christ’s.

I believed I was seeking God, but I was looking for fulfillment, for salvation, in the wrong places: in friends, in girls, in acceptance, in personal satisfaction. I bounced from one infatuation to the next with beautiful, godly women who weren’t the least bit interested in me. Time and time again I dashed my own heart against the rocks of heartbreak. All the while I was striving so desperately for love, when I didn’t even know what love was; I only knew selfishness. All the while I was seeking completion, the missing piece to my heart, when that could only be found in God.

Near New Market

“Near New Market,” by author. Taken on one of these wanderings.

It was a time of increasing restlessness. Some deep discontent was always boiling just beneath my skin. Most of the time I couldn’t put a finger on why — was I worried about money? about school? about my singleness? about the future? So often I would just get in the car and drive, not knowing where I was going — I just needed to get away.

This was the Baptist leg of my wandering road, almost by accident. I knew I needed to get back in church, but I couldn’t make up my mind where to start, or move myself to visit someplace where I didn’t know anybody. And then, thinking it might be a chance to get closer to some or another girl, I found myself in the Baptist church.

The Southern Baptist faith is the most deeply and essentially southern flavor of Christianity there is. It is the archetypical church in the southern mind, the kind of religion most people think of if you don’t specify otherwise. And so it was comfortable and safe. I liked the pastor and his preaching, and I liked the worship. But over the months I was in that church, I increasingly felt alone and out of place. Being about twenty-six years old, I was a part of the “adult singles” ministry; but I was the youngest person there by easily ten years. Every other “adult single” was older, divorced or widowed, with kids and a career. I, too old for the “college” ministry but still in school, never married, without a job or family of my own — had none of the concerns of these other people. In fact, there were few people in that church my age at all. It dawned on me more and more that they had no real place for me there. I felt disheartened and trapped.

Meanwhile, I had a blog in which I had come to invest an unhealthy degree of my self-worth. I posted every day, hoping someone would read me and validate me.* It was the golden age of LiveJournal, and I was one of those people. I had discovered a circle of blogfriends who were young (younger than me), educated, intellectual Christians who’d grown up with an evangelical persuasion but were searching for something deeper. The looming question for each of them was whether to convert to Roman Catholicism or Eastern Orthodoxy — and I believe every one of these people eventually did become one or the other. I admired them all a great deal — I longed for an intellectual faith like theirs more than anything — but having no foundation in theology or doctrine, I couldn’t follow their arguments or post anything intelligent in response. I felt like the lonely little kid chasing after the gang, eagerly wanting to play with the big kids, but left behind and left out every time. Oh, how I tried so hard to impress them — to be noticed; to be accepted — but just as I had always felt in my youth group growing up — for entirely the opposite reason — I felt an outsider.

* Now you see why I’ve been so concerned with blogging humbly.

There was one blogfriend in particular whom I considered an especially close friend — and then one day, she was gone. She dropped me from her friends list (ah, LJ drama!) and stopped answering my messages. In retrospect, I was entirely too dependent on my blogfriends for my self-esteem and emotional support, and letting go was the best thing for me in the long run; but at the time, I was fairly devastated. I searched and searched for reasons for this rejection, and the unfortunate conclusion I drew was that intellectual Christians, especially those inclined toward Catholicism and Orthodoxy, were arrogant, condescending snobs with whom I wanted nothing more to do.† I allowed the trauma to turn me away from Catholicism, from several favorite TV shows and books this friend and I had shared, even from C. S. Lewis, whom I associated with thinking Christians and this friend in particular. I didn’t take up any of those things again for a good four or five years. And so I came to associate Catholicism, even more than I had before, with coldness, rigor, and emptiness.

† In fact, as I later learned, the reason was that she had realized how unhealthy this sort of thing was for both of us.

Already unhappy and disillusioned with the church I was attending, I turned away from God in anger. My nascent search for a church that “fit me” — my first attempts to delve into Christian theology and thought — had brought me nothing but pain. I felt utterly rejected, utterly alone, even though my true friends were with me all along. My faith had been shallow, selfish, immature, and poorly rooted: I was the seed sown on stony ground that sprang up vividly, but met with affliction, withered away. If church had failed me yet again — what else was out there? Shaking off what I thought were shackles, I aimed to find out.

That was six, nearly seven years ago. For the first time in my life, I entered truly uncharted territory — a world not constrained by my Christian faith, which I left in tatters, flapping helplessly in the wind. Over the next months, I charged further and further away, deeper and deeper into the unknown. I hope I never go the places I went again.

But God was always there. By my Baptism, I was a Christian: one with the Body of Christ. And He still had plans for me. He wasn’t going to let me go so easily.

Mein liebster Leser: My dearest readers

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Today I’m struggling with a difficult post, so I thought I would give you something light.

Annedisa of Life, Christ & Me nominated me for the Liebster Blog Award some time ago. Liebster is German for “dearest.” And today I wanted to dedicate this award to you, mein liebster Leser (my dearest readers).

Liebster Blog Award

The Liebster Blog Award.

The award originated, my Google nosing* has revealed, as an award to honor up-and-coming bloggers with fewer than 200 readers. I honestly don’t really know how many readers I have, but I’m sure it’s fewer than 200. So, thank you, dear Annedisa. I don’t know whether my blog is “up and coming” or not, but I pray that wherever it may go, it speaks the truth in love.

* Thanks to Sopphey for in fact doing said nosing, which my nosing quickly happened upon. A splendid research into the history of the internets.

Annedisa’s blog is a lovely place always full with beauty and inspiration, and I enjoy it a lot. Check it out, if you haven’t!

Now I’m supposed to nominate eleven people — but I don’t really think I know eleven people. According to the original rules, as near as Sopphey could surmise, one was supposed to nominate 3–5 other bloggers with fewer than 3,000 200 readers†. I think I’ll go with that instead.

† Apparently the original specification was 3,000, but I think the change to 200 was a reasonable emendation. We little people need all the help we can get. Gadzooks, I wouldn’t even know what to do with 3,000 readers…

Annedisa also gave me some interview question, which I’ll answer. To add a little jazz, why don’t we do this: I’ll add a question to the list at the end (#12 below will be mine), for the next person to answer. Each person I pass this to will add a question, too — so the interview gets longer and longer, and more and more interesting. (I’ll go ahead and specify that if this really keeps going and the interview reaches 30 or so questions, someone needs to edit it down to a reasonable number again and pick only out the best questions.)

First, before this gets too long, let me nominate a few of my liebster bloggers (I’m not quite sure how to tell how many readers a blog has, but I think it’s safe to assume that most of us in our little Catholic WordPress circle are not Big Wheels):

  • Laura at Catholic Cravings, a dear fellow convert and fellow Medievalist‡, always blesses me with lovely, witty, astute, or thought-provoking observations on the Church and her road to it.

    ‡ I’m only part-Medievalist; but I’m sufficiently drawn in that direction that I claim it.

  • Roy at Becoming a Catholic, a dear candidate I discovered just a few days ago, walking the road of his conversion now, through the path of RCIA. I’m excited to be here to cheer him on!

  • 1CatholicSalmon, who has been “liking” many of my posts lately, and I appreciate the encouragement more than you can know. Your blog is full of passion for the faith and strength in the face of rushing stream of modernity. May you go on rowing against the current!

Here are the instructions for reposting:

  1. Post the award image in a post of your own.
  2. Acknowledge who gave you the award (and link back to them).
  3. Choose 3–5 other bloggers who you think should be noticed more than they are and should have more readers, and pass the award on to them.
  4. Copy the interview questions below and answer them.
  5. Make up a question of your own and add it to the bottom, and answer it for yourself.
  6. Copy these instructions somewhere in the message to pass it on.

All right, without further ado, the questions:

1. A book that changed your life: The Book of Three by Lloyd Alexander. I’d like to tell that story sometime. But it was the first book that I recall really setting me on fire with a passion for reading and fantasy, when I was about seven years old.

2. Your favourite author/writer: Lloyd Alexander to this day remains one of my favorites; his books are still wonderfully entertaining to me. I recently dusted off my Dickens and I enjoy him a lot. I’ve been reading a lot of Catholic apologetics, etc., lately, especially Karl Keating, Jimmy Akin, Scott Hahn, and others. So I don’t really have a single favorite.

3. Pet and its name: My last pet was a betta fish called Ozymandias (Ozzy for short).

4. Craziest thing you have done: In due time.

5. My best friend: I have several, and they know who they are.

6. A childhood prank: At my tenth birthday party sleepover, one of my friends called the local radio station and pretended to be locked in the bathroom at the mall after hours, and asked if they could send somebody out to help him. Oddly, this was before cell phones were common — so I’m not sure how someone locked in the bathroom at the mall would have called a radio station. Ten-year-old logic. The DJ did mention my friend’s supposed predicament on the air. It was amusing at the time.

7. Favourite music artist: This changes frequently, and can fall into several categories:

  • Favorite classical composers: Josquin des Prez, J.S. Bach, Orlande de Lassus, Tómas Luis de Victoria, Frédéric Chopin, William Byrd, Thomas Tallis, Guillaume Dufay — This could go on a while.
  • Favorite classical artists: Oxford Camerata, Tallis Scholars, The Sixteen, Hillard Ensemble, Wolfgang Rübsam, John Eliot Gardiner with the Monteverdi Choir and the English Baroque Soloists, Sir Neville Marriner and the Academy of St Martin in the Fields — To name a few.
  • Favorite contemporary artists: Rich Mullins, Danielle Rose (discovered her very recently and like her a lot), Matt Maher, Audrey Assad, David Crowder Band — To name a few.

So yes, it’s hard to narrow me down.

8. A place you would love to visit: I pine for Rome. I have a grand pilgrimage planned out, if I should ever have the time and money for it: A long time in Rome, then Assisi, then Florence, then Milan, then Pavia, then Turin (with many stops along the way), then up through Geneva to see Calvin’s stomping grounds — then either to France or Germany to see more saints; I haven’t really planned past Italy. But probably France, to pursue St. Bernard. Also, I’d love to go to England, especially London and Oxford and Cambridge, and York and Durham and Lindisfarne — and Scotland and Ireland, too. That sounds like another trip or four.

9. If you had just 5 minutes left to live what is the one thing I would do?: Ideally, I would be in bed surrounded by my family and my pastor receiving the last rites. But supposing I’m not — I’d fall on my knees and pray and confess whatever sin might be on my heart and throw myself upon the mercy of God.

10. Favourite sport: I agree with Annedisa: Does blogging count? Other than that, I would say American college football.

11. How do you define love?:

  • Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love. In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him. (1 John 4:7-9)
  • Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfilling of the law. (Romans 13:10)
  • Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. (1 Corinthians 13:4-7)

12. Who’s your favo(u)rite saint? St. Paul, St. Gregory the Great, St. Bernard of Clairvaux, St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Francis of Assisi, St. Augustine of Hippo, St. Ambrose of Milan, St. Ignatius of Loyola, St. Bede the Venerable, St. Thérèse of Lisieux — So many precious people; you know you can’t nail me down.

Sacraments and “Works”: Where Protestants get it wrong

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Theophany Icon

An icon of the Theophany, the Orthodox celebration of the Baptism of Christ, when the Holy Spirit descended upon Him like a dove.

It occurred to me today, I think, the real reason why Reformed and evangelical Protestants reject the Sacraments and any belief in the idea of sacramentality.

St. Paul writes (Ephesians 2:8-10):

For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.

Baptism, Catacomb of St. Callixtus

A third-century representation of Baptism from the Catacomb of St. Callixtus, Rome.

In the Protestant mind, Baptism and the other Sacraments are “works.” The idea of sacramentality is incompatible with the doctrine of sola fide because, by the Protestant interpretation of Paul, one’s salvation is accomplished by faith alone. To grant that the act of Baptism itself, a “work,” has any sacramental power at all, that it washes away one’s sins and gives one a new birth in Christ, is to admit that some other action beyond faith alone is necessary for salvation.

Therefore, in order to make sola fide work, they dismiss Paul’s clear testimony elsewhere in Scripture regarding the efficacy, sacramentality, and necessity of Baptism (Titus 3:4-7):

But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that being justified by his grace we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life.

How can this be? How can Paul say that God saved us not because of works, and at the same time that He saved us by the washing of regeneration (διὰ λουτροῦ παλιγγενεσίας)? Clearly, Paul speaks of “works” here in a different way than Protestants suppose.

We are saved not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy. Certainly, we are saved only by God’s mercy and grace — no works we do can ever earn our salvation. But that doesn’t mean — and Paul never says — that we are saved by faith alone — that we don’t have to do anything. Baptism, and the other Sacraments, are not “works” by which we try to earn God’s favor or earn our salvation, but the God-given and Christ-instituted means by which we receive His grace.

Missing Information: The Historical Limitations of Sola Scriptura

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(This little essay originated as a comment in another blog just now, and I thought it might be worth sharing.)

Bible

As a historian — and this is one of the things that led me to Catholicism — I feel like it’s a fallacy of the doctrine of sola scriptura to presume that we have all the sources and aren’t missing any information. We have to remember that there were twenty, thirty, maybe forty years between the events of Christ’s earthly ministry and the writing of the earliest Gospel. For those decades, the Church wasn’t just sitting around waiting patiently for God to give them the New Testament so they could begin preaching the Gospel. The original mode of transmitting the Gospel was by oral preaching and teaching, by the Apostles going out into the world and spreading it by word of mouth. The churches they established were many and far-flung, but they were in touch with each other, by believers traveling among them, by the Apostles returning to visit the churches like Paul wrote about, bringing news and teaching.

We have to accept that we just don’t have all of that from Scripture. The writers of the New Testament didn’t record absolutely everything that happened or was going on between the churches. The Gospels, by their own admission, aren’t even a full account of everything Jesus said and did (John 21:25) — and such a thing isn’t even possible. No writer can record everything, not even a divine one — because He’s limited by the very earthly medium of paper and pen. The books of the New Testament very frequently refer to events we don’t know about and can only infer, to people we don’t know, even to letters we don’t have (1 Corinthians 5:9, 7:1).

Now, Protestants believe that everything they need for salvation is recorded in the Scriptures — and I like to think that God really did give them enough to get them into heaven, since He surely knew ahead of time that they were going to bolt. But that doesn’t mean that everything is in the Scriptures. On many points, the Bible is silent. That doesn’t mean, however, that there necessarily aren’t answers. The Tradition handed down by the Church — not vague, amorphous “traditions,” but historically documented testimony to the Church’s beliefs from the earliest ages — can shed light in many places, and complete our incomplete picture of the Early Church.

It’s very compelling to me to study the Bible and discover all I can about the people and places in it — but my salvation doesn’t hinge on which Mary was which or whether Jesus’s “brothers” were Apostles or even whether they were His brothers. Not even Tradition offers definite answers to many questions. Since I know I don’t have all the facts — not about the Early Church and certainly not about God — I’m content to just let some things be mysteries, things I wonder about but won’t know until I get to ask. I believe and have faith in the things I know for sure, and that’s that the Gospel is true and Jesus is my Savior.

Read the Catechism in a Year

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Year of Faith (small)

Last night I happened upon something nifty I thought I would share: an online gadget someone has set up for the Year of Faith to enable one to read the Catechism of the Catholic Church in a year. I think this is an amazing and worthy goal for this Year of Faith. Catechesis — the teaching of the faith, to ourselves and others — is at the core of the New Evangelization.

Catechism of the Catholic Church

As a candidate, I started trying to read the Catechism cover-to-cover, but I really didn’t get very far. This time I intend to follow through. The daily chunks don’t seem to be too big — today it was seven paragraphs — so this is doable for just about anyone. Today is just Day 2; so it’s not too late to get on board by any stretch. I want to encourage you all, whether you’re a committed Catholic or a wandering seeker or just a curious observer, to embark on this journey with me. The Year of Faith is the time to delve into and discover the riches of the Catholic faith.

Embarking on the Year of Faith: An Ecumenical Step

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My dear friend Jessica has highlighted in warmth and charity a remarkable but largely overlooked moment here at the beginning of our Year of Faith: Jessica’s own archbishop, the Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams, addressed the Catholic Synod of Bishops in Rome yesterday, offering meaningful words on the contemplation of Christ and its essential connection with sharing Christ with others. As the bishops and Catholics worldwide discuss the New Evangelization and our call to share the Gospel in today’s world, his words were especially timely.

Archbishop Rowan Williams

Archbishop Rowan Williams.

But even more than what Archbishop Williams said, I am gladdened by the ecumenical step this represents — both that Pope Benedict invited Archbishop Williams to speak, that Williams agreed, and that the Catholic bishops received him graciously. To my knowledge, this is the first time the leader of a major Protestant sect has ever addressed an assembled synod of Catholic bishops. This may seem to some a small step, but considering the five hundred years of history that have passed between us, the bloodshed and fear and anger and many martyrs for both causes — this, to me, marks a huge step forward.

The Anglican Communion, especially some branches of it like Jessica’s, may be closer in thought and feeling to Rome than any other division of our separated brethren — in fact, some branches are already breaking off to return to us. Archbishop Williams’ address to our bishops is but one step — but the road to reunion must be walked a step at a time. It is my deepest and sincerest hope that we can continue to take steps such as this.

The Year of Faith

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Today begins the Catholic Church’s Year of Faith, proclaimed by Pope Benedict as “a summons to an authentic and renewed conversion to the Lord, the one Savior of the world.” It’s a time for the study and teaching of the Christian faith and for dedication to the New Evangelization. I invite all believers to join me in these aims, and non-believers to seek and ask questions (even critically). I know I have a lot to learn, too; and I am looking forward to a year committed to delving deeper and deeper into the faith.

Pope Benedict’s apostolic letter proclaiming the Year of Faith, Porta fidei, is a wonderfully edifying and uplifting read. This section in particular stood out to me:

During this time we will need to keep our gaze fixed upon Jesus Christ, the ‘pioneer and perfecter of our faith’ (Hebrews 12:2): in him, all the anguish and all the longing of the human heart finds fulfilment. The joy of love, the answer to the drama of suffering and pain, the power of forgiveness in the face of an offence received and the victory of life over the emptiness of death: all this finds fulfilment in the mystery of his Incarnation, in his becoming man, in his sharing our human weakness so as to transform it by the power of his resurrection. In him who died and rose again for our salvation, the examples of faith that have marked these two thousand years of our salvation history are brought into the fullness of light.

Baptism: A Sacrament for All Christians

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Rembrandt , The Baptism of the Eunuch (1626)

The Baptism of the Eunuch (1626), by Rembrandt. (WikiPaintings.org)

I’ve given a (very basic) scriptural explication of the Sacrament of Baptism; I’ve asked the question of why many Protestant Christians reject the sacramentality and efficacy of Baptism, if not the importance and necessity of Baptism altogether; and all the while I’ve been promising that there’s a message of love and hope buried somewhere in what seems so far to be mostly grousing. This is it. I have a lot I want to cover here — I hope I actually get to the hope this time, while maintaining a reasonable length — but I will certainly do my best.

One Baptism: An Enduring Mark of Christian Unity

St. Paul asserted firmly that we are are “one body” in Christ, baptized together into His Body by “one baptism.” He was writing in the context of division and infighting within the Church of his time, especially the Church at Corinth; he wrote to remind the believers there that they were all One in Christ through their Baptism into Him, each a part of His Body with his or her own vocation to fulfill. Although Paul could not have foreseen the sad state of our schism today, the Spirit certainly did: Paul’s words are perhaps more piercingly relevant today than they were then (1 Corinthians 12:12-13):

For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body — Jews or Greeks, slaves or free — and all were made to drink of one Spirit.

He might as well have been addressing directly, I think, today’s Catholics and Protestants and Orthodox. Paul again wrote (Ephesians 4:5):

I therefore . . . urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, . . . eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit — just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call — one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.

El Greco, Baptism of Christ (c. 1608)

The Baptism of Christ (c. 1608), by El Greco. (WikiPaintings.org)

The Roman Catholic Church teaches, in accordance with this scriptural teaching and with the Nicene Creed, that there is “one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.” She accepts baptisms given by even Protestant communities as valid sacraments — even if the Protestants reject Baptism’s sacramentality. I, having been baptized as a Protestant, didn’t have to be baptized again when I entered the Church.

The thrust of that is this: In the Church’s eyes, I had already been baptized into the Body of Christ. The Church believes that all Christians who are baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit (Matthew 28:19) are truly baptized into the One Body of Christ — that even through our schism, the unity of His Body persists. Baptism is the “sacramental bond of unity existing among all who through it are reborn.” It is the “foundation of communion among all Christians” (CCC 1271; Second Vatican Council, 1964, Unitatis redintegratio §§2, 3).

The Unbaptized?

So what about people who aren’t baptized? Are they condemned?

Not necessarily. As the Catechism puts succinctly, “God has bound salvation to the sacrament of Baptism, but He himself is not bound by His sacraments” (CCC 1257).

The Church recognizes a few exceptions in particular: First, what it calls the Baptism of blood: The Church believes that those believers who suffer death for the sake of the faith are baptized by blood and by their death for and with Christ (CCC 1258).

The desire or intention for Baptism can also bring the fruits of Baptism without actually receiving the Sacrament, if one meets death before one can. Catechumens especially who die before their Baptism, repentant for their sins and fully intending to receive the Sacrament, can be assured of their salvation, the Church believes (CCC 1259).

Guido Reni, The Baptism of Christ (1623)

The Baptism of Christ (1623), by Guido Reni. (WikiPaintings.org)

The Church also holds out hope for those who die never knowing the Gospel or the necessity of Baptism, but who strove for God’s truth to the best of their knowledge, ability, and opportunity, and who lived their lives in pursuit of charity and righteousness — that they can be saved, too (CCC 1260).

And most of all, in the hope of which I’ve been speaking, I firmly believe that those Christians of our separated brethren whose communities have wandered from apostolic teaching, who neglect the Sacrament of Baptism and never emphasize its necessity as Christ taught, still have the opportunity to be saved, in God’s infinite mercy. For those who love the Lord, who strive to embrace and live the Gospel, who bear the Spirit’s fruit, but through no fault of their own, are not led to Baptism — I believe and hope in their salvation. If they had but known their need for Baptism, they certainly would have sought it, and God embraces that, the Church believes.

In the end, the core truth of Catholic teaching about the Sacrament of Baptism is that it is not a legalistic requirement, a “work” that one has to do to win favor with God, but the means for our salvation provided by the Lord, a gift given by a merciful God who loves us infinitely. The Church is the “vessel of salvation,” but to be saved, one has to first get on the boat. Just so, Baptism is the door to our death and rebirth in Christ; the sharing in His Death and Resurrection, by which He washes away our sins; the way we receive His grace and salvation. And it is offered and extended to all who seek Him. But first one has to get in the water.