Assisi III: Desolating Sacrilege

I am mad. More than mad, fuming. So, we were supposed to not get upset about Assisi III? We were supposed to trust that the indiscretions of Assisi I and Assisi II under John Paul "the Great" would not be repeated at Assisi III because Pope Benedict was more circumspect and would not go in for anything questionable? Well, we went ahead cautiously and extended Benedict the benefit of the doubt...and......then.......we get this ABOMINATION: prayer to the pagan deity Olokun inside the Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi!

 

This is WRONG. I shouldn't even have to explain why this is wrong. But sadly, some pop apologists will probably come trotting out explaining why this "really isn't problematic" if you just "understand" it the right way. I don't know what's more sad - the pagan worship, or some Catholics defense of it. This is just wrong, and if you can't see why this is wrong, then I don't know what to say to you. It makes me sick to even think of arguing about this. It is just plain wrong.

I just this week got done with a long study of the Old Testament prophets (just today I was going through Hosea and Joel); I've said this before and I'll say it a million times - nobody who has really read and dug into the Old Testament should in anyway be in the dark about how God feels about pagan worship - especially in His consecrated temples! Jerusalem was destroyed for this sort of thing. That's what the whole Book of Ezekiel is about, for crying out loud! It's just as I finished weeks of reading passages about how pagan worship is corruptive, how hateful it is to God, how when His people flirt around with other religions it is tantamount to spiritual adultery - how whole kingdoms and populations were striken by God and carried off into captivity in punishment for these sorts of sins. And then I come online and see THIS DESOLATING SACRILEGE!

It reminds me of this passage from Hosea:

"With you is my contention, O priest. You shall stumble by day, the prophet also shall stumble with you by night; and I will destroy your mother. My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge; because you have rejected knowledge, I reject you from being a priest to me. And since you have forgotten the law of your God, I also will forget your children...I will change their glory into shame...And it shall be like people, like priest; I will punish them for their ways, and requite them for their deeds. They shall eat, but not be satisfied; they shall play the harlot, but not multiply; because they have forsaken the LORD to cherish harlotry....My people inquire of a thing of wood, and their staff gives them oracles. For a spirit of harlotry has led them astray, and they have left their God to play the harlot. They sacrifice on the tops of the mountains, and make offerings upon the hills, under oak, poplar, and terebinth, because their shade is good" (Hos. 4:4-13).

How hateful is it to God when His priests lead people astray by providing for such scandalous behavior, such abomination as pagan worship in a Christian Church that is canonically for the celebration of the Mass! How hateful it is to God when our pastors lead us into a spirit of idolatry. It is certain that, if we forget the law of God, He will enter into judgment with us, and especially with His priests. I accuse no pastor or priest specifically; I don't know what Benedict knew or didn't, but somebody set this up, and whoever did should be canned permanently.

But here is what I really want to know: You Catholics who apologize for and defend the pope no matter what he does, who make excuse after excuse for these Vatican gaffes, will you make apology for this? Will you step forward and defend this abomination? What excuse will you offer? What twisted conciliar document or statement of Aquinas taken out of context will you bring forward in a feeble attempt to make pagan worship in a Christian Church look acceptable? What say you? Will anyone dare to defend this? Any Catholic who defends this has, in my opinion, simply lost touch with who God is, what God demands of us, and how offensive pagan worship truly is to Him, especially when it is done in His sacred precincts, defiling our altars and insulting the memory of St. Francis who was willing to undergo a trial by fire in order to prove the TRUTH of our religion and the FALSITY of others.

Pray. Do penance. Preach the truth. This nonsense has to stop. Every time I think I can reconcile myself with the post-conciliar state of the Church - every time I think "You know, I don't have to be a Traditionalist Catholic; just plain Catholic is good enough for me!" - every time I think that, something like this goes and happens and reminds me why I consider myself a Traditionalist.

This is not the Faith of our Fathers. I didn't go through a life of agnosticism and make the burdensome detour into and out of Pentecostal Protestantism and into the Catholic Church to be greeted with THIS. St. Francis, pray for us!

And Elijah said to them: "Take the prophets of Baal, and let not one of them escape." And when they had taken them, Elijah brought them down to the Brook Kidron and killed them there (1 Kings 18:40).

But wait, Elijah - they were sincere!

Jimmy Fallon Prefers Traditional Catholicism

Did anybody happen to catch the NPR interview with Jimmy Fallon on "Fresh Air" the other day? It was quite interesting. After a lot of banter about his television program and Saturday Night Live, he talked about his upbringing as a Catholic in the 1980s. Unlike a lot of popular comedians who were raised Catholic, Fallon had nothing negative to say about Catholicism whatsoever. He said that he was very grateful for his Catholic upbringing and loved everything about the Church - he loved Catholic school (St. Mary of the Snow in Saugerties, NY), loved the nuns, loved going to Mass, loved receiving at the rail, and loved the way attending Mass made him feel. He even shared that he had been an altar server, revered and looked up to his parish priest and had once believed he had a vocation to the priesthood. This sort of warm praise of Catholicism was a very welcome thing to hear from a pop comedian.

But even more interesting was when the host, Terry Gross, asked him if he was still a practicing Catholic. Fallon explained that, as often happens, the practice of his faith waned during his teen years. He ended up getting into show business and moved out to Los Angeles. There, around the mid-ninties, he tried to attend Mass again but complained that the Mass had "changed" from the Irish-Catholic Masses he knew as a boy in Saugerties. Among his complaints: the atmosphere was way too casual, there was a rock band playing, people were holding hands constantly, and (tongue in cheek of course, or hopefully) he complained about frisbees being thrown around. This, he said, was not Mass. He went on to say how he cherished the old Mass - the bells, the incense, the kneelers and the aesthetic it all created. Then, in the one quote I can recall with certainty from the interview, he said that he totally disapproved of Mass with all the "bells and whistles," following that up by saying, "Just give me the Mass."

It was inspiring, but also sad, because this experience of an apparently ultra-banal Novus Ordo in the L.A. diocese turned him away from the practice of his faith and, though he still considers himself Catholic, he no longer attends Mass at all. Sure, Fallon is ultimately responsible for whether or not he fulfills his Sunday obligation, but I'd have to think, when stuff like this happens, the persons responsible for these abominable liturgies also share the blame.

Also interesting is what more "traditional" Mass it is that Fallon is remembering so fondly. As someone born in 1974, he never knew the pre-1969 liturgy. It sounds like what he experienced as a boy was simply the Novus Ordo done more or less according to the rubrics in one of New York's more historic churches. He recalls nuns, communion rails, and incense, and this all in the late eighties!

I just found this whole exchange very interesting - usually when we hear a celebrity talking about their faith life, it is a bunch of nonsense about Kabbalah or Scientology; if their background is Catholic, usually they just rip on the Church. Fallon's love for the more traditional elements of Catholicism, and his distaste for the modern expressions of the liturgy, is something neat to hear. Let's all say a prayer for him today that he will rediscover his beloved faith and find the right parish to worship in.

If you want to hear the interview, you can listen to it here. He doesn't start talking about Catholicism until the end.

By the way, if you are wondering why I was listening to NPR, it is because it is the only radio station that I can get in my car ever since I accidentally knocked my antenna off with a snow shovel two years ago. I felt I had to defend myself there.

Other articles on celebrities and Catholicism:

Peter Steele 1962-2010
Joy Behar: Saints are "mentally ill"

Sacral Kingship: The Ottonians (Part 8)

It's been awhile since I posted on this series, so now is about as good a time as any to do some catch-up! This week we will look at how the institution of Christian monarchy was changed by the German Ottonian dynasty. To read the previous post in this series, click here.

The Ottonians

By the late 9th century, the Carolingian Empire that Charlemagne had forged was in desperate straits. Despite the suicidal implications for his empire, his successors followed the old Frankish custom of dividing their lands up among their heirs; the Treaty of Verdun in 843 delineated what realms would be ruled by whom. The so-called “Middle Kingdom” of Lothair was picked apart by its larger rivals to the east and west, and soon there appeared an “East Frankish” and a “West Frankish” ruler. The last Carolingians to hold these offices died in 987 and 911, respectively.

        

In the east Frankish holdings of Saxony and the German dukedoms, authority fell to the local dukes. After much civil discord, Otto I of Saxony was crowned king in 936 and Holy Roman Emperor by the Pope John XII in 962 [26]. The major problem facing him at the time was that the prevailing understanding of the political role of the office of the king was that he was only the highest lord in a series of lords and vassals. Beyond that, he held little power that was not honorary or ceremonial. Real power was vested in the body of dukes who had exercised authority ever since the late Roman times. The ducal office was hereditary, and thus ensured that any king would always have powerful opponents who presented a check to his power.

        

Otto, however, was not content with a merely honorary kingship. He took Charlemagne as his model and exploited to the fullest the prevailing attitudes towards sacral kingship in order to strengthen his position, the first of which was being crowned king at Aachen instead of his native Saxony, thus evoking all the connections with Charlemagne [27]. The major act he took against the power of the dukes, and the one for which he is most remembered, is his use of ecclesiastical persons to fill vacant secular positions.

        

This had three advantages: first, since the clergy was celibate, they had no offspring that they could pass on their titles to, and thus the offices could not take on a hereditary nature. Second, because they were put there by appointment and not birth, they owed their position to Otto personally and thus were usually very loyal. Third, because they were high level churchmen they were generally very well educated, or at least literate, which is more than can be said of most of the German dukes of the tenth century. This ensured a faithful, educated administration that could be switched around or altered if the king so chose and provided him with a bulwark against the recalcitrant dukes.

        

Otto did not “appoint” bishops in the direct sense, but manipulated their elections by requiring his assent to their appointment. He was doing nothing novel by this; as we have seen, kings going back to late Roman times were viewed as having some sort of authority over the Church. An extant letter of St. Ambrose of Milan complains bitterly to Theodosius about interference of the latter in Church affairs, saying that “bishops usually judge Christian emperors; not emperors, bishops.” [28] Nevertheless, Christian rulers continued their involvement in Church matters; the Patriarch of Constantinople, for example, was always an appointee of the Byzantine emperor. The 5th Council of Orleans in 549 in the west stipulated that bishops were to be appointed cum voluntate regis, that is, “with the will of the king" [29]. This led to immediate abuse by the Merovingians, and the 3rd Council of Paris in 557 tried to crush the abuse, but the practice of royal approval went on unopposed. As mentioned above, Charles Martel was one of the worst abusers of the privilege, and Charlemagne continued it, albeit in a manner more acceptable to the Church. Therefore, by the period of Otto, royal intervention in episcopal elections was a well established royal prerogative grounded in the king’s role as guardian of the Church in his realm. “For 200 years, then, there had never been a time when the western kings and emperors did not, more or less, exercise an arbitrary control over the candidates for the episcopal dignity." [30]

        

Though the early Church, and men like St. Ambrose, rejected this lay interference in their affairs, the clergy of Carolingian and Ottonian times were quite content with it. After all, it provided an excellent opportunity for the exercise of ecclesiastical influence at court. A bishop who received an appointment from Otto could wield a considerable amount of clout with the king on behalf of his diocese. As long as able and faithful bishops were appointed (and under Charlemagne and Otto, most appointments were wise ones), there was little cause for complaint [31]. Under Otto, the Church felt itself to be regaining its dignity and authority

        

Otto’s innovation was not in that he meddled in episcopal appointments, which as has been demonstrated, was nothing new. Rather, it was in his application of the method that was new. Never before had so extensive a program of episcopal election been undertaken, and never so methodically. But Otto had in mind the complete subordination of the German princes to himself, and the widespread use of the royal prerogative in episcopal elections was the surest way to accomplish this.

Once Otto was crowned Holy Roman Emperor in 962, he further extended his power by claiming, on his authority as emperor and temporal lord of the Christian realm, the right to approve papal elections as well. The papacy was understandably unhappy with this situation, but it had little choice. Otto had come into Italy at the behest of Pope John XII with the purpose of freeing Rome from the military control of the usurper Berengarius. Before Otto agreed to this, however, he extracted the “Ottonian privilege” from the papacy, which was essentially an oath stating that a new pope could never be elected without he or his son’s permission [32]. This was a natural consequence of Otto’s interference in German episcopal elections. If the Church was to serve the crown, which was what Otto desired, then the Church must be under royal authority, which meant that the papacy had to be bent to serve the will of the Holy Roman Emperor. Had not the prevailing ideology since the Carolingian times been that the emperor was the earthly parallel to God, the “Emperor” of heaven? 

Essentially, the original plan of the papacy was backfiring. Pope Leo III had certainly crowned Charlemagne with the understanding that the imperial dignity of the Carolingians came not from themselves but from the papacy, who had the authority to “translate” it from the Greeks to them. However, Otto used this same authority to claim that the Holy Roman Emperor, by his divine appointment, had a special and authoritative role over the Church that no other prince did, by virtue of the very same privilege that Leo III had thought would keep the emperors beholden to will of the papacy. Otto had turned the tables on the papacy, and the Roman pontiffs were getting a dose of what the Patriarchs of Constantinople had been enduring for six hundred years under their meddlesome emperors.

What is the influence of Otto I on the understanding of temporal authority in the Middle Ages? His greatest contribution is in his understanding that the office of Holy Roman Emperor gave him a kind of lordship over the Church of Rome. Previous kings had applied this ideology to their own local churches and diocese, but Otto was the first to apply it to the Church of Rome itself, at least explicitly. Though Otto was solicitous to choose capable bishops to fill vacancies, the attention a bishop had to pay to temporal matters necessarily detracted from the time he could spend attending to spiritual ones. This had in it the seeds of abuse. Otto enmeshed temporal and spiritual lordship so tightly that it would take another three hundred years of vigorous debate to figure out where the boundaries of each lay. The Investiture Controversy was largely an attempt to undo Otto’s creation. It could be said that the Protestant Revolt was another.

Next time we'll look at the English house of Wessex, particularly the person of Alfred the Great.

Footnotes
26] Both his coronation as king and emperor were in imitation of Charlemagne; he was crowned king at Aachen, where Charlemagne had his court and, like Charlemagne, came to Italy at the behest of the pope, where he was crowned emperor on Feb. 2, 962.

27] John J.Gallagher, Church and State in Germany Under Otto the Great (University Press: Brookland, D.C., 1938), 22

28] Ambrose, Letter 21

29] Fichtenau, 56

30] Ibid., 58

31] “They [the clergy] never contested this infringement upon their canonical rights, for it was most desirable that their bishop have influence at court.” Ibid., 59

32] Ibid., 87

Speeding Up to Slow Down

Something interesting is going on in my diocese in preparation for the implementation of the new translation of the Roman Missal this Advent. In an attempt to make the Mass more standard from parish to parish, and in order to bring things more into conformity with the original Latin prayers, our Bishop desires that all new musical settings for the Gloria be faithful to the new English translation. To ensure this, he has, as of last week, mandated that every parish use a specific arrangement for the Gloria in English, the "Mass for a Servant Church" by Michael Guimont. You can listen to this Gloria here.

On the one hand, it is admirable that our bishop wants to promote a liturgical standard in the Diocese of Lansing, and even more so that he desires this standard to be based on texts that are completely faithful to the original Latin. I applaud these directives.

On the other hand, this mandate introduces several problems. First, what of parishes, like my own, that have already been accustomed to singing the Latin Gloria at our Ordinary Form Masses? As the directive stands (at least as it was explained to me), even parishes already using a Latin Gloria now have to use this English Gloria. This does not make sense. The goal of the directive is to ensure greater fidelity to the original Latin - you can't get much more faithful to the original Latin than actually using the original Latin.

Secondarily, we have the problem that this music is a bit awkward. One of the reasons for the dissimilarity between the Latin and the older English Gloria settings was the desire to make the Gloria more rhythmic and singable for an English audience. The new Gloria, literally translated from the Latin, does not fit well in an English musical setting. For example, take the old Gloria:

Glory to God in the highest
And peace to His people on earth

Each phrase has 8 syllables, making is easy to fit into the kind of structured, "hymnal" setting that most English speaking congregations are used to. But, if we are taking a translation directly from the Latin (which is meant to be chanted), we get something different:

Glory to God in the highest

And on earth peace to people of good will

Here the first phrase has 8 syllables, but the second has 10, meaning that it is more difficult to fit it together in a hymnal arrangement. To be sure it can be done, as Michael Guimont's arrangement demonstrates, but the manner in which the new phrases are shoved together makes it that much more difficult for the average parishioner to sing this piece. In my parish we are having difficulty with it, not just because it is new, but because in some places the only way it can get all the text into a measure is by moving extremely fast. Some parts move slowly, some quickly and the timing almost changes in every "verse" (the Gloria is not supposed to be set up in a verse/refrain structure, but I digress), making it extremely difficult to follow along with.

My point is that the new English translation of the Gloria does not lend itself as easily to a hymnal musical structure; nor should it. It is a literal translation of a prayer that is supposed to be chanted. If we want to promote fidelity to the original Latin, how about we encourage parishes to use the original Latin?  Duh.

Our parish is already ahead of most parishes in this country in that we were using all of the fixed Mass parts in Latin well before the new translation. We were where the pope wants the Church to be going; and now, in an effort to more fully implement the pope's thinking, the bishop is actually slowing our parish down. It's like we did all the speeding up just to be slowed down - in the name of speeding up!

I personally think this directive may in fact be uncanonical, though I am not sure, as a bishop's authority over the liturgy is complex. I do know that a bishop's discretion is only applicable in areas not regulated by the Holy See. How it applies to areas where there are not clear regulations but preferences, I'm not at all certain. Liturgically, Gregorian chant in Latin remains the number one preference of the Church and has pride of place, as Sacrosanctum Concilium states. If a parish is using the Church's traditional, preferred option, in keeping with the documents of Vatican II, does a bishop have the authority to mandate an equally valid but lesser liturgical option? Could he, say, mandate that every priest use Eucharistic Prayer 2 or a certain option for the Penitential Rite? I personally don't think so; I can see an argument for mandating the norms, but I don't see how he can mandate one of the lesser options when the Church asks for the norm; how can one mandate an exception and exclude the rule?

Here is how this problem could be solved: rework the directive so that it says all parishes must use the Guimont version of the English Gloria, unless they are already using the Latin. After all, the Latin is the measure by which we are judging the English. All problems relating to fidelity to the original prayers become moot if we just use the original prayers.

It seems tragic to compel a parish that has already made tremendous strides in introducing Latin to go back to vernacular, especially in the name of returning standardization to the liturgy.

Therefore, I earnestly petition and pray that our good bishop, who has done so much for tradition in our diocese, will relent in this matter and grant an exception allowing for the use of the Gloria in Latin. Or, if I am misunderstanding this directive and arguing against a straw-man, may somebody show me the truth and correct me.

Other posts on liturgical music:

"Our of the Mouths of Babes": A group of elementary school students learns the Our Father in Latin in three days, disproving forever the argument that the Latin prayers are "too hard" for the laity to learn.

"Singing Satan's Parts": Many object to singing God's words in liturgical music; what about when we sing Satan's parts?

"More Rock Music at Mass": When I take my kids to another parish where they play rock music, my kids start dancing in the pews.

"Contemporary Music Isolates the Elderly": The elderly suffer most from bizarre liturgical music.

Pride and Protestantism

Catholics and Protestants come at the truth through two different avenues. In the Catholic theology, we look at the content of Divine Revelation and interpret it through the lens of our own tradition, which we hold to be authoritative. Thus, while certain questions are open for discussion and will always be so, there are many others which we hold as "settled." For these settled issues, such as Christ's real presence in the Eucharist, the Trinity, etc., the task of the theologian is not so much to prove them or argue for them as it is to explain and expand upon them, making these truths more accessible and penetrating to the average Catholic. We receive something that was given to us, accept it with docility and humility, and then attempt to pass it on to others in the best way we know how.

Thus, in Catholicism, truth is something that is given. It is a gift. In the first place, a gift from God, who gives us revelation gratuitously for the sake of our salvation, but secondly, a gift from the Church itself. Nobody learns the faith on their own; it is handed on from generation to generation, and the essence of what it means to be Catholic is to receive this truth humbly and with docility. Thus, the Catholic concept of Divine Revelation as being handed on and protected by the Church promotes an attitude of doctrinal humility even while allowing us to repose in the certainty of the content of those doctrines. Doctrine is primarily something that is received.

This is an interesting contrast to Protestantism. In Protestantism, there is no idea of an absolutely authoritative tradition. Some Protestant groups value tradition more than others, but no Protestant sect teaches that any tradition can have divine authority behind it, as we do. Thus, all authority, ultimately, must rest with the individual, who decides for himself what is truth and what is error. He may consult tradition, or the teachings of others wiser and older than himself, but ultimately it is the believer and the believer alone who decides how much influence he will allow these teachings to have. Doctrine is not something that is given and received in humility, but something that each person must painstakingly sort out for themselves.

If doctrine is not something that is given, then it is not something that is received. It is something the believer kind of cobbles together, based on whatever criteria he wants to include or not include. In Protestantism, all doctrine is ultimately the creation of the believer. As such, the believer always has what we could call a "vested interest" in defending his doctrines because they are really his in a way that doesn't apply to the Catholic, whose teaching is handed on and received.

This means that, for a Protestant, defending his doctrine means defending his own privately formed opinions. They might be opinions shared by a great many other Protestants, but they are still opinions, because there is no final arbitrating authority in Protestantism other than a fuzzy consensus. Note the difference between Catholicism and Protestantism here - in the one case, believers are empowered to adhere to certain, infallible truth but in a spirit of humility, which is possible because the doctrine of the Catholic is now his own. On the other hand, the Protestant, who has no infallible authority beyond himself, is forced to make a "personal investment" in his own doctrine. His own doctrine represents his common sense, spirituality and personal judgment all wrapped up into one. Thus, for a Protestant, it would seem that it is much more difficult to have that sense of humility and awe before the truth that is so necessary for spiritual growth.

How can one be humble and docile before a truth that one ultimately does not receive but creates? I am not accusing all Protestants of being prideful, but it seems that the manner in which Protestantism teaches that doctrine should be appropriated leads rather to pride in one's own judgment and opinions than to humility. Is dogma a gift handed on or is it our own fabrication? If it is a gift, we can repose in wonder and humility before it; if it is a creation (which it ultimately must be if we reject authoritative tradition), then it comes with all of the arrogance and close-mindedness that all men display when defending their own personal opinions.

Interesting how we could apply this principle to liturgy, too (liturgy that is handed on versus fabricated and which promotes a greater sense of humility - are we the humble recipient or the grand master?). An authoritative Tradition makes it possible to receive the truth with docility; sola scriptura leads us to invest our own opinions with divine authority, leading to pride.

John 7:16~ "Jesus answered them, and said: My doctrine is not mine, but his that sent me."

St. Augustine did not "invent" Original Sin

I am amazed how historians who seem to have an otherwise good grip on history will, when it comes to the Church or sacred history, make grossly erroneous statements that reveal how ignorant they are on the subject matter. I was recently reading a best-selling economic history book by a Harvard professor that had some statement in there about Solomon asking the Lord to stop the sun; this episode happened not to Solomon, but to Joshua, of course, who lived several centuries before Solomon. Almost everybody, even people not knowledgeable in the Old Testament, have at least heard of how Joshua commanded the sun to stop at the Valley of Aijalon. For a Harvard historian to get the wrong person by two centuries is pretty bad, especially when the data is right in front of your eyes and you just have to do the research. But who cares; it's only the Bible, right?

I have encountered a similar but more widespread problem when it comes to the doctrine of original sin and its alleged "invention" by St. Augustine of Hippo. I have seen this in textbooks, history books, historical programming, even materials put together by Catholic organizations - all asserting, almost as if it is without contest, the "fact" that the Church's teaching on original sin was an invention of St. Augustine of Hippo and is not found in either the Scriptures or the Fathers.

This baffles me, as it seems that just a cursory reading of Scripture and the Fathers, with a bit of understanding of the historical context of Augustine's teaching on original sin, is enough to disprove this oft repeated error of fact. St. Augustine was certainly integral to the development of the doctrine of original sin, even as St. Thomas was integral to the development of the doctrine of the Real Presence or St.Cyprian was integral in the development of ecclesiology. Nevertheless, just as it is wrong to say St. Thomas invented the Real Presence or St. Cyprian invented the concept of episcopal unity, so it is equally wrong to state that St. Augustine invented the doctrine of original sin. This error becomes culpable when done in textbooks and other contexts that are supposed to be shedding light on history but actually just obscure the facts.

First, let us define Original Sin. Original sin, in the context I am using it, refers to the teaching that death comes to man through the sin of our first parents, and that the grace of God is necessary to overcome this sin and perform any salutary works. The traditional teaching on original sin is summarized in the canons of the Council of Carthage against Pelagianism (418):

1. Death did not come to Adam from a physical necessity, but through sin.
2. New-born children must be baptized on account of original sin.
3. Justifying grace not only avails for the forgiveness of past sins, but also gives assistance for the avoidance of future sins.
4. The grace of Christ not only discloses the knowledge of God's commandments, but also imparts strength to will and execute them.
5. Without God's grace it is not merely more difficult, but absolutely impossible to perform good works.

For many, this Council represents the "invention" of a novel doctrine. But this assertion reveals, I think, an ignorance of the words of Scripture and the teaching of the Fathers.

Let us first turn to what I believe in the classic proof-text for original sin in the Scriptures, the words of St. Paul in his Epistle to the Romans, chapter 5:

"Wherefore as by one man sin entered into this world and by sin death [contra the Pelagians who taught that death was natural and not the result of sin]: and so death passed upon all men [death is what was passed, not simply a bad example], in whom all have sinned. For until the law sin was in the world: but sin was not imputed, when the law was not. But death reigned from Adam unto Moses, even over them also who have not sinned, after the similitude of the transgression of Adam, who is a figure of him who was to come. But not as the offense, so also the gift. For if by the offense of one, many died: much more the grace of God and the gift, by the grace of one man, Jesus Christ, has abounded unto many. And not as it was by one sin, so also is the gift. For judgment indeed was by one unto condemnation: but grace is of many offenses unto justification. For if by one man's offense death reigned through one; much more they who receive abundance of grace and of the gift and of justice shall reign in life through one, Jesus Christ. Therefore, as by the offense of one, unto all men to condemnation: so also by the justice of one, unto all men to justification of life. For as by the disobedience of one man, many were made sinners: so also by the obedience of one, many shall be made just" (Rom. 5:12-19).

St. Paul here clearly states that death came into the world through the offense of one man, and that through this offense, "many were made sinners" and "many died." This is precisely what is taught by the Council of Carthage, and it is here found in the Scriptures. Also relevant are Wisdom 2:24 (""But by the envy of the devil death came into the world") and 1 Cor. 15:21: "For by a man came death and by a man the resurrection of the dead." The Catholic Encyclopedia points out that this can only refer to physical death, since it is using the physical Resurrection from the dead as a contrast.

If the Scriptures clearly testify that the concept of original sin is biblical, evidence from the pre-Nicene Fathers confirms it. Though we could find several examples, those offered by St. Cyprian is especially notable because he illustrates the Catholic understanding of original sin explicitly in his Letter 58, which deals with infant baptism (a teaching repudiated by the Pelagians). In these readings, notice the assumptions Cyprian makes about infant baptism: that is communicates grace and saves souls; i.e., that it remits sin. Cyprian says:

"But in respect of the case of the infants, which you say ought not to be baptized within the second or third day after their birth, and that the law of ancient circumcision should be regarded, so that you think that one who is just born should not be baptized and sanctified within the eighth day, we all thought very differently in our council. For in this course which you thought was to be taken, no one agreed; but we all rather judge that the mercy and grace of God is not to be refused to any one born of man. For as the Lord says in His Gospel, "The Son of man is not come to destroy men's lives, but to save them." As far as we can we must strive that, if possible, no soul be lost. For what is wanting to him who has once been formed in the womb by the hand of God? To us, indeed, and to our eyes, according to the worldly course of days, they who are born appear to receive an increase. But whatever things are made by God, are completed by the majesty and work of God their Maker. Moreover, belief in divine Scripture declares to us, that among all, whether infants or those who are older, there is the same equality of the divine gift" (Letter 58:2-3).

But if that doesn't convince you, here is a more explicit example in which original sin is very plainly taught:

"If anything could hinder men from obtaining grace, their more heinous sins might rather hinder those who are mature and grown up and older. But again, if even to the greatest sinners, and to those who had sinned much against God, when they subsequently believed, remission of sins is granted— and nobody is hindered from baptism and from grace— how much rather ought we to shrink from hindering an infant, who, being lately born, has not sinned, except in that, being born after the flesh according to Adam, he has contracted the contagion of the ancient death at its earliest birth, who approaches the more easily on this very account to the reception of the forgiveness of sins— that to him are remitted, not his own sins, but the sins of another?" (Letter 58:5)

This letter was written around 253, so clearly this is way before Augustine and Pelagius. Yet here we have all the tenets of the doctrine of original sin - catching the "contagion" of Adam just by virtue of birth, the effect of this contagion being death, and this understood as a "sin" that comes to all who are "born of the flesh." St. Augustine himself, in refuting the Pelagians, mentions thirteen other Fathers, both Greek and Latin, who before his own time had clearly taught the doctrine of original sin, in his Contra Julianum, Book II.

Looking at the manner in which the Pelagian controversy itself played out gives further evidence that original sin was indeed taught prior to Augustine. In 411, before Augustine had even gotten involved in the Pelagian controversy (for he was still putting down the Donatist heresy), the Bishop Aurelius of Milan condemned the six main tenets of Pelagianism as heretical. The condemned propositions were:

1. Even if Adam had not sinned, he would have died.
2. Adam's sin harmed only himself, not the human race.
3. Children just born are in the same state as Adam before his fall.
4. The whole human race neither dies through Adam's sin or death, nor rises again through the resurrection of  Christ.
5. The (Mosaic Law) is as good a guide to heaven as the Gospel.
6. Even before the advent of Christ there were men who were without sin.

This condemnation was made not by one of the Church's great theological luminaries, but by a regular ordinary, who had the common sense to see immediately the heretical import of these statements. Clearly, the Catholic concept of original sin was plainly understood at this point prior to Augustine's writings on the subject.

It is interesting to see how the Church proceeded from this point on. After the condemnation of Aurelius, Caelestius, a lay-monk seeking ordination and principle teacher of the Pelagians, was summoned to appear at a synod at Carthage to retract his statements. Had original sin been not clearly taught, would he have been summoned to defend his positions? It is note worthy that Caelestius replied that Adam's sin and its consequences were still open to debate, and refused to recant. He was immediatelt excluded from ordination and his six theses condemned. So, we have the summoning of a synod to compel Caelestius to recant, the refusal of ordination and the formal condemnation of the Pelagian premises before Augustine even wrote one word on the subject. Clearly, as Church praxis here shows us, the matter was not considered "open to debate." If it was open to debate, it must have been in the same sense that modern dissenters claim that contraception and homosexuality are still "open to debate."

St. Augustine tells us that, from 411 to 412, Pelagianism began to spread rampantly around Carthage, prompting many sermons and condemnations of it by local bishops. It was not until late in 412 when Augustine finally got involved, by which time Pelagianism was already recognized as a heresy and deviation of the Catholic teaching on original sin. It was then, around 412, that St. Augustine composed On Merit and the Forgiveness of Sins, and the Baptism of Infants, where he laid out the Catholic teaching on original sin and backed it up with an appeal to the Church's practice of infant baptism. Far from inventing or bringing out original sin for the first time, Augustine was simply putting into writing what the Church already believed, as is evidenced by the manner in which the controversy was handled prior to Augustine putting pen to parchment.

Jerome condemned Pelagianism as soon as he heard of it, in 415. It is true that Pelagius was exonerated at two regional synods, but this has nothing to do with the issue being open to debate; rather it had to do, in the first case, with the Catholic defendant (Orosius) being unable to argue in Greek against Pelagius, and in the latter case of Pelagius accuser's simply not showing up to the synod.

Nevertheless, two synods, one in Carthage and one in Numidia, condemned Pelagianism, comprising over one hundred twenty six bishops. Clearly, original sin was no novelty is 126 bishops were willing to come together and issue joint condemnations. Finally, in January of 417, Pope Innocent I entered the controversy and formally condemned Pelagianism and excommunicated Pelagius and Caelestius. Another condemnation by Pope Zosimus followed in 418. Would the Bishop of Rome issue these condemnations based on a novelty of St. Augustine? In Innocent's condemnation of Pelagius, the writings of St. Augustine are not appealed to; rather, the Church's practice of infant baptism and St. Paul's letter to the Romans are. The popes condemned Pelagianism because they held the teaching of original sin to be apostolic, as judged both by Scriptural standards and the constant practice of the Church in baptizing infants.

If we look at the manner in which the Church proceeded here, with its regional synods, episcopal preaching against Pelagius, condemnation of the teachings of Caelestius, the letters of Jerome and Augustine, it is clear that the Catholic dogma of original sin was not something invented by Augustine. Was St. Augustine the most thorough expositor of the dogma up to that time? Yes. Was he called upon because of his reputation for erudition and eloquence to use his pen to explain the Catholic position? Yes. Was he fundamental in the development of the doctrine. Absolutely. Was original sin "invented" by St. Augustine, in such a way that it can be asserted that this doctrine did not exist before he defended it in writing? By no means. To assert otherwise is to misunderstand history and ignore Scripture and the Fathers.

The Etiquette of Mammon

Have you ever noticed that in our culture, at least in the United States, there is a unique little system of etiquette surrounding how we talk about money? We Americans pride ourselves on being very open when it comes to discussing any topic whatsoever; nothing is taboo, and this sometimes even becomes a fault of ours. When I lived in Austria, the local Austrians remarked on how "talkative" Americans were on a whole host of subjects. Americans are an extremely opinionated people who thoroughly resent being told to curb their language, for good or for ill.

Yet, in the past few years, I have noticed that there seems to be certain taboos in our society regarding how we talk about money with other people. I noticed this first some years ago, when I was just hired at a job. I was talking with another employee (an employee who had a completely different job than mine) and asked them how much they got paid for doing that job. They answered cordially at the time, but later I was rebuked by my boss; I found out that the employee had actually been offended by my question and had complained to the boss about it. The boss told me in no uncertain terms that it was "not appropriate" to talk about money with other employees.

Why? Perhaps it is something management prefers to keep in place so that workers don't become envious of each other in situations where there may be merit based pay? That might be so, but here it was the employee, not the boss, who was first offended, and we did non-competing jobs that weren't in a similar pay-bracket anyway. The employee was offended that I had asked about money, and the boss agreed. It is not just something fostered by employers; rather, it is something about the American workplace in general.

Okay, so we are not supposed to talk to other employees about how much we make. Other taboos: Issues relating to money can only be discussed in private with your boss. It is not appropriate to speak about money in a letter or email. It's not polite to ask a friend of yours how much he makes at his job, nor in social settings should you talk about your own income, especially if it is on the larger side. If you cannot participate in an event, it is wrong to say, "I don't have enough money to do that"; you are supposed to offer a more tactful excuse that doesn't involve money. If somebody owes you money, you can only ask them about it in person. And, speaking of "asking about money", it seems to be an unwritten rule that people who owe you money somehow end up making you feel like a jerk for asking for the money you are rightfully owed!

At any rate, I can probably think of more, but you get the picture. There are a lot of social taboos in place that seem to suggest that money is a topic we simply do not discuss in social situations. 

This doesn't make any sense to me whatsoever. Just because it is etiquette, or "good office manners" doesn't mean it is correct. The way I see it, surrounding money with these taboos and aura of unspeakability tends to raise its importance in our lives. We almost treat mammon like God, someone whose name is only to be used in certain contexts and never lightly. Should money have such a place in our society that even how to talk about it is hallowed by all these guidelines?

I think this comes from our own cultural delusion that we are a classless society of equals. In old Europe, for example, there was an obvious class system that was by and large accepted. There were rich people and everybody knew who they were - this was evident from their dress, homes, manner of living and even their speech. Moreover, their incomes, largely rent based, were a matter of public knowledge, in many cases. Think, for example, about the depiction of the wealthy of Georgian England in the Jane Austen novels. Everybody knows that Mr. Bingley is worth £5,000 per year; likewise, everybody in the whole village and presumably the whole county knows that Mr. Darcy is worth £10,000 per year. Their wealth, and even the degree of their wealth, is common knowledge, because they live in an aristocratic society where divisions based on wealth and prestige are public and an acceptable part of society.

Now take the United States, where we "threw off" our aristocracy and established a government ruled by the people and based not on wealth and privilege of birth, but common citizenship. In our society, we don't like external characteristics that remind us of wealth distinctions. It brings to mind the unhappy reminder that we are not, in fact, a classless society, but a society of great disparity of wealth. We do lack, however, many of the cultural trappings of external wealth that old Europe had. Nevertheless, to maintain the illusion that we are all just citizens who are by and large the same, we negate the issue of monetary disparity by refusing to discuss it. That's my theory, at least.

I didn't even realize how deep these taboos ran until this summer I took a temporary job with the company of a friend of mine, a very good Catholic and a very open, and frank man who lacks any of the monetary taboos I have been talking about. Well, there came a day when I was supposed to ask him about how much he was going to pay me for a certain job.At my previous job, I could never discuss such things easily or openly; they required private "meetings", sometimes much more than one and were always discussed in a very delicate way. but, to my surprise, my friend just said, "So, how much do you want?" I said, "Do you think we should talk about this in private", as we were in front of several other employees. He said, "No, we can talk about it right here." Then, and only then, did I realize how unaccustomed we are to asking for money or speaking about it openly in the company of others. Nevertheless, I did what he wanted and blurted out an amount, which was basically agreed to immediately. It was so easy. Money was really no big deal to him, at least as far as talking about it is concerned.

I think we ought to not have so much sensitivity in the way we speak of this subject; it just gives it more importance than it needs to have. If you need money, ask for it. If you can't afford it, say "It's too expensive." If someone asks you what you make, why not tell them? And don't get offended if somebody asks you. Don't get all touchy is somebody wants to discuss money; it's really not that big of a deal. And, if you owe somebody money, don't try to make them feel like an idiot for asking; you are the one that needs to be humble because you are the debtor; the creditor can ask for his money any way he wants, by letter, email, phone call or in person. I'm not against manners, but I am against stupid taboos that are propagated under the auspices of etiquette.

What of priestly obedience?

First the Fr. Corapi debacle, now Fr. Pavone. Two different priests with different apostolates and different sorts of "falls", yet both undoubtedly tarnished and caught up in scandals that have irreparably sullied their reputations. Yet whatever side one takes on these current events, they are most certainly made worse by what, in my opinion, is a shocking lack of obedience on the part of the priests involved. 

I am not here interested in narrating the details of the Fr. Corapi case or the Fr. Pavone case; I presume my readership to be well enough acquainted with them. At any rate, I use these cases not to make any specific claims about either but to illustrate a general principle - namely, that there seems to be a particular Americanized concept of obedience in play here that sees obedience as justly refused if we subjectively believe our "rights" are being trampled on. Fr. Corapi, in denying legitimate requests from his superiors and bishop and choosing to leave the priesthood rather than submit, and Fr. Pavone, in appealing his case to Rome over the head of his ordinary, seem to be operating on a concept of obedience that is more concerned with asserting their personal rights rather than seeking holiness.

There is a great little book by Fr. Leo Pyzalski, C.S.S.R., called The Holy Will of God, published by TAN books. In this excellent little booklet, Fr. Pyzalski talks about various aspects of submitting to God's will in our life and points out that priests and religious are called to a different kind of obedience than average lay persons. It is an heroic obedience that demands a resignation of our claims to our "rights." Fr. Pyzalski states:

"Those trusted with leadership and administration of religious communities are vested with Divine authority, since they are appointed representatives of God. Hence, the attitude of subjects is expected to be one of sincere and humble deference and childlike docility towards all legitimate Superiors. This is something quite different from modern democracy.

People who join a religious order [or the priesthood] are perfectly aware of the way of life they choose for themselves...they renounce in advance all claims to democratic participation in the administration and spiritual guidance of the whole religious body. They consciously sacrifice their personal liberty, their own will, to please God and to render Him more glory" (Pyzalski, The Holy Will of God, pg. 6-7)

Fr. Pyzalski goes on to say that this obedience is much easier professed with the mouth than acted upon, for as soon as a trial or obstacle crops up, there is a temptation to withhold obedience:

"Particularly, in our day of ultra-democratic tendencies is this likely to happen and, indeed, does happen frequently. Self-will takes the place of humble and cheerful obedience. As long as Superiors adjust their directions to the likes and dislikes of their subjects, they are praised and cherished and obeyed promptly. Whenever the contrary occurs, they will be blamed, at least very often, of imprudence, ruthlessness or lack of charity. Allegedly, Superiors "forget" that all members of the community have the same rights since they are bound by the same religious profession" (ibid, 7-8).

Fr. Pyzalski's next comments are especially pertinent to the Fr. Pavone case, which as Ed Peters seems to have proven clearly, is a case of a priest gradually assuming the attitude that his social work, however important it might be, is more important than his priestly ministry and the glory of God. Fr. Pavone has called Pro-Life work "the core of my life", to which Dr. Peters rightly responds, "Something is seriously askew here. Nothing, not even the most visible (and arguably the most effective) pro-life work in the world, is at the “core” of any priest’s life; nothing is there, besides the High Priest Jesus Christ. That is no pious platitude. For any priest, religious or diocesan, to assert before the world that anything is at the core of his life besides the Son of God is very disturbing. "

Fr. Pyzalski says the same thing, reminding us that any social work a priest does must be subordinated to his identity as an ordained (or a religious), and that this identity is ultimately governed by the will of one's legitimate Superiors. He goes on:

"The first and most essential task of every religious community [or priest] is the imitation of our Lord Jesus Christ. Social, educational, or similar work is not the supreme task...it is only a means to further God's glory...To perform any social work whatsoever without regarding God's glory and the teaching of Jesus Christ [on obedience], the Supreme Master of mankind, would be incompatible with religious obligations and the religious character in general.

After losing the spirit of Christ, which is one of filial docility towards God and His representatives, a religious order is but a poor makeshift of what it ought to be. It cannot expect Divine blessings on its activities, nor real happiness in its members" (ibid., 8-9).

In short, the traditional Catholic teaching on obedience is that obedience is due to all lawful superiors at all times, and that virtue and holiness of character is developed and proven especially when the obedience is due unjustly, or demanded with a heavy hand, or when one suffers some humiliation because of it. To refuse obedience, or even to simply use litigation to get around obedience by asserting one's "rights" and appealing over the head of one's superior, might not be sinful, but it is a demonstration of a very poorly formed idea of obedience...of a life that is more centered on what one wants to do rather than on what should be done in obedience. It reveals a problem with willfulness.

There is much more that could be said. Bottom line: obedience is due in all circumstances unless it is an unjust command (by unjust, I mean one that commands what is sinful). Other than that, even if a priest believes he is in the right, even if "his" ministry is on the line, even if millions of dollars are wrapped up in it, the priest owes complete and total obedience to his superiors.

The sad tales of Fr. Corapi and Fr. Pavone should also furnish us with ample evidence to suggest that priests should probably not become "celebrities" who are independently wealthy. It just...doesn't work out very well.

Click here to purchase Fr.. Pyzalski's book The Holy Will of God!

Update on Website

Hey everybody! Just an update on the new website - I have been working on it for the latter part of the summer and am finally getting comfortable with the interface. It's going to take awhile before it is live; but in the meantime, I had mentioned that I wanted to get a few more contributors. I am looking right now for a couple of articles to add - theology, history, spirituality, economics, whatever. I'm going to go through the whole idea again; I have already mentioned this all here. If you have something to send that you think is good enough to be posted, please send it to me. Leave your name and email in this combox (I won't post it).

Pax.

St. Cyprian on Disciplined Prayer

In honor of the Feast of Sts. Cornelius and Cyprian, which we celebrated yesterday (September 16th), let us look at Cyprian's excellent Treatise on the Lord's Prayer, where he speaks of a topic that is very relevant today vis-a-vis the discussions between traditionalist and charismatic Catholics on the proper posture for prayer. Rather than preface the saint, I will just let him speak for himself:

"Let our speech and petition when we pray be under discipline, observing quietness and modesty. Let us consider that we are standing in God's sight. We must please the divine eyes both with the habit of body and with the measure of voice. For as it is characteristic of a shameless man to be noisy with his cries, so, on the other hand, it is fitting to the modest man to pray with moderated petitions. Moreover, in His teaching the Lord has bidden us to pray in secret— in hidden and remote places, in our very bed-chambers— which is best suited to faith, that we may know that God is everywhere present, and hears and sees all, and in the plenitude of His majesty penetrates even into hidden and secret places, as it is written, "I am a God at hand, and not a God afar off. If a man shall hide himself in secret places, shall I not then see him? Do not I fill heaven and earth?" (Jer. 23:23-24) And again: "The eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good." (Prov. 15:3)

And when we meet together with the brethren in one place, and celebrate divine sacrifices with God's priest, we ought to be mindful of modesty and discipline— not to throw abroad our prayers indiscriminately, with unsubdued voices, nor to cast to God with tumultuous wordiness a petition that ought to be commended to God by modesty; for God is the hearer, not of the voice, but of the heart. Nor need He be clamorously reminded, since He sees men's thoughts, as the Lord proves to us when He says, "Why do you think evil in your hearts?" (Matt. 9:4) And in another place: "And all the churches shall know that I am He that searches the hearts and reins" (Rev. 2:23) [Treatise on the Lord's Prayer, 4]

What can we say? Although Cyprian obviously reminds us that God searches the hearts and is not impressed by bodily movements, he also states that when we "celebrate divine sacrifices with God's priest", there are nevertheless certain  postures and gestures which are more fitting for divine worship; namely, those that are done under discipline. In case we misunderstand what he means by discipline, he goes on to contrast the moderate, disciplined prayer of the godly man with the prayer of the "shameless" man, who prays with "noisy cries" and "throws abroad" his prayers indiscriminately with "wordy" petitions. We see then that, at least as far as Cyprian is concerned, the sort of prayer services or liturgies that commonly go under the phrase "charismatic" these days would not have met with the approval of the famous bishop-martyr of Carthage.

This is also an important citation because, according to some, the pre-Nicene Church was more fluid and charismatic in their liturgies. The liturgy did not become "crystallized" in any sort of rigid form until after Nicaea. While it is true that the liturgical rubrics were more fluid in the patristic age than in later ages, it certainly does not follow that therefore the worship of the Church was entirely devoid of order. As St. Cyprian states here, the liturgies he celebrated and extolled as the norm for the Church were somber, disciplined, affairs, imbued with a spirit of order and reverent silence.

"Let all things be done decently and according to order" (1 Cor. 14:40).

Authority Over Demons in the Early Church

Some time ago, I did a post addressing whether or not saints could be possessed by the devil. The topic was brought to my attention by some statements in Fr. Gabriel Amorth's book on exorcism in which he related several stories of canonized saints who had apparently been possessed by the devil, though by no fault of their own.

I took issue with Fr. Amorth, suggesting that it seemed very improbably that a soul that was truly sanctified could be open to demonic possession, as well as doubting whether imposing satanic possession upon a believer would ever be God's will. Many of my readers disagreed with me, which is totally fine; this is highly speculative, and there are purported cases of it in Church history. I also made sure to keep my comments very speculative due to my ignorance on matters relating to exorcism.

That being said, I still take great issue with the concept that  a person with a eminent degree of sanctity can be possessed by the devil. I have spent a lot of time since the last post researching this, and knowing that the Fathers of the Church had a very keen understanding of exorcism and a firm belief in the reality of demons (unlike many modern theologians), I decided to see if the Fathers had any comment on this issue of believers being subject to demonic possession.

What I have found is that, with no exceptions that I know of, the Church Fathers do not believe that believers  (true believers) can be possessed by the devil, and that freedom from and authority over the devil are one of the marks of a true Christian. They also assert that possession always results from some fault on the part of the possessed; either they are mired in sin, apostates, worshiping pagan gods, or else frequenting places where demons are especially active.

In the first place, if we look at the works of Justin Martyr and Tertullian, we can find many statements testifying to the patristic belief in the authority of the common Christian over the demons and the freedom of the Christian from their power. Though these quotes do not mention exorcism or possession directly, they reflect the common view in the early Church that Christians, walking in the power of the Spirit, always had authority over the evil one:

St. Justin Martyr: "For we do continually beseech God by Jesus Christ to preserve us from the demons which are hostile to the worship of God, and whom we of old time served, in order that, after our conversion by Him to God, we may be blameless. For we call Him Helper and Redeemer, the power of whose name even the demons do fear; and at this day, when they are exorcised in the name of Jesus Christ, crucified under Pontius Pilate, governor of Judæa, they are overcome. And thus it is manifest to all, that His Father has given Him so great power, by virtue of which demons are subdued to His name, and to the dispensation of His suffering" (Dialogue With Trypho, 30).

Servitude to the demons is a sign of bondage to sin. A hallmark of Christian freedom, of Christ's atoning death, is that the believer is not only freed from demonic possession but has authority over them. This would not make any sense if we could postulate that sometimes holy saints can be in bondage to demons.

Tertullian: "For, though the whole power of demons and kindred spirits is subject to us, yet still, as ill-disposed slaves sometimes conjoin contumacy with fear, and delight to injure those of whom they at the same time stand in awe, so is it here" (Apology, 27).

"Now if Socrates was pronounced the wisest of men by the oracle of the Pythian demon, which, you may be sure, neatly managed the business for his friend, of how much greater dignity and constancy is the assertion of the Christian wisdom, before the very breath of which the whole host of demons is scattered!" (Treatise on the Soul, 1).

"For God, Creator of the universe, has no need of odors or of blood. These things are the food of devils. But we not only reject those wicked spirits: we overcome them; we daily hold them up to contempt; we exorcise them from their victims, as multitudes can testify" (Ad Scapula, 2).

The demons, for Justin and Tertullian, are to be held up to scorn and contempt through their public exorcism. The power of the name of Christ over the demons seems to be a sign of Christ's general triumph; the Christian victory over demonic possession is an attribute of Christ's victory over Satan. Once we see this connection, it seems very unlikely that the Fathers would support the concept of a Christian being possessed by a devil as part of God's will, much less a Christian of eminent sanctity. The personal triumph over demons and a Christian's protection from them are intimately bound up with Christ's victory at the cross. To suggest that holy Christians can be possessed would seem to undermine this, or that's the way the Fathers would see things.

If we go on to some of the later writings, of Cyprian, Origen, Lactantius, the Apostolic Constitutions, we see that this concept of the Christian's power over the demons if developed into a theology of the general freedom of a Christian (a "true Christian", as Origen says) from demonic possession. But first, let's continue with Tertullian, who has two more interesting quotes:

"Do you fear man, O Christian?— you who ought to be feared by the angels, since you are to judge angels; who ought to be feared by evil spirits, since you have received power also over evil spirits" (De Fuga in Persecutione, 9). 

The evil spirits are in the power of the Christian; therefore, Christians have nothing to fear from them. This seems to preclude any notion that the Christian can fall under demonic possession.

"We have the case of the woman— the Lord Himself is witness— who went to the theatre, and came back possessed. In the outcasting, accordingly, when the unclean creature was upbraided with having dared to attack a believer, he firmly replied, And in truth I did it most righteously, for I found her in my domain (De Spectaculis, 26).

This is an interesting example, because the case is related of a Christian woman who was frequenting the pagan games and was possessed by a demon while at the amphitheater, which the demon refers to as "my domain." The demon's words seem to suggest that, while lawful possession can occur if a person is in a demon's "domain", demonic possession of believers who are not in that demon's domain would be "unlawful." It is hard to make a clear, dogmatic point based on something a demon said (although traditionally demons during exorcism are compelled to tell the truth), but it is interesting to think about.

Origen dealt with the issue of demonic possession extensively in his apology to the pagan Celsus. His quotes are long, but worth looking into at length:

Origen: "And Christians have nothing to fear, even if demons should not be well-disposed to them; for they are protected by the Supreme God, who is well pleased with their piety, and who sets His divine angels to watch over those who are worthy of such guardianship, so that they can suffer nothing from demons. He who by his piety possesses the favor of the Most High, who has accepted the guidance of Jesus, the Angel of the great counsel, being well contented with the favor of God through Christ Jesus, may say with confidence that he has nothing to suffer from the whole host of demons" (Contra Celsus, Book VIII:27).

The believer has "nothing to suffer" from the demons, and this may be said "with confidence." A sign of one's belonging to Christ is angelic protection from demonic possession, and this is established through the mandate of God. This does not mean that devils may not attack believers (as we see in the case of St. John Vianney, for example), but it does seem to preclude any concept of a demon gaining entrance into a Christian and possessing them, since this protection seems to be extended more to those who "are worthy of such guardianship." He goes on:

"We do not, then, deny that there are many demons upon earth, but we maintain that they exist and exercise power among the wicked, as a punishment of their wickedness. But they have no power over those who have put on the whole armor of God, who have received strength to withstand the wiles of the devil, and who are ever engaged in contests with them, knowing that we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places  (ibid., 34).

Here is where Origen would take issue with Fr. Amorth. Fr. Amorth suggests that demons can exercise power over Christians if this is the will of God; Origen, like the other Fathers, states that true Christians are immune from this sort of thing and that those who are in the power of the demons are those who are "among the wicked" and receive demonic possession "as a punishment of their wickedness." The demons have "no power" among those who have put on God's armor. Continuing on, Origen says:

"But the angels, who are the true rulers and generals and ministers of God, do not, as Celsus supposes, injure those who offend them; and if certain demons, whom Celsus had in mind, do inflict evils, they show that they are wicked, and that they have received no office of the kind from God. And they even do injury to those who are under them, and who have acknowledged them as their masters; and accordingly, as it would seem that those who break through the regulations which prevail in any country in regard to matters of food, suffer for it if they are under the demons of that place, while those who are not under them, and have not submitted to their power, are free from all harm, and bid defiance to such spirits; although if, in ignorance of certain things, they have come under the power of other demons, they may suffer punishment from them. But the Christian— the true Christian, I mean— who has submitted to God alone and His Word, will suffer nothing from demons, for He is mightier than demons. And the Christian will suffer nothing, for the angel of the Lord will encamp about them that fear Him, and will deliver them, and his angel, who always beholds the face of his Father in heaven, offers up his prayers through the one High Priest to the God of all, and also joins his own prayers with those of the man who is committed to his keeping. Let not, then, Celsus try to scare us with threats of mischief from demons, for we despise them. And the demons, when despised, can do no harm to those who are under the protection of Him who can alone help all who deserve His aid; and He does no less than set His own angels over His devout servants, so that none of the hostile angels, nor even he who is called the prince of this world, can effect anything against those who have given themselves to God" (ibid., 36).

Very clearly, Origen sets forth the principle that the protection of the Christian from the demons is bound up with Christ's own lordship over the elect, and that consequently, not even Satan himself "can effect anything against those who have given themselves to God."

Next, Origen compares the oracles of the Pythian priestess at Delphi with the ministry of exorcism performed by the Christians:

"If, then, the Pythian priestess is beside herself when she prophesies, what spirit must that be which fills her mind and clouds her judgment with darkness, unless it be of the same order with those demons which many Christians cast out of persons possessed with them? And this, we may observe, they do without the use of any curious arts of magic, or incantations, but merely by prayer and simple adjurations which the plainest person can use. Because for the most part it is unlettered persons who perform this work; thus making manifest the grace which is in the word of Christ, and the despicable weakness of demons, which, in order to be overcome and driven out of the bodies and souls of men, do not require the power and wisdom of those who are mighty in argument, and most learned in matters of faith" (Contra Celsus, Book VII:4).

I thought this quotation was interesting because it attested to the reality of lay-exorcisms in the patristic era (which I don't think would be a wise thing to return to now), but more so, because it demonstrates that power over and freedom from the demons was not seen as restricted to the clergy or the eminently saintly, but to even the rank and file of the Church.

St. Cyprian of Carthage goes on step further and explicitly denies the possibility of the demons inhabiting the body of one who has been baptized:

Cyprian: "The obstinate wickedness of the devil prevails even up to the saving water, but that in baptism it loses all the poison of his wickedness...when, however, they come to the water of salvation and to the sanctification of baptism, we ought to know and to trust that there the devil is beaten down, and the man, dedicated to God, is set free by the divine mercy. For as scorpions and serpents, which prevail on the dry ground, when cast into water, cannot prevail nor retain their venom; so also the wicked spirits, which are called scorpions and serpents, and yet are trodden under foot by us, by the power given by the Lord, cannot remain any longer in the body of a man in whom, baptized and sanctified, the Holy Spirit is beginning to dwell" (Epistle 75:15).

The demons "cannot remain any longer in the body of a man in whom...the Holy Spirit is beginning to dwell." This summarizes my thought on this aptly. Like the other Fathers, Cyprian sees freedom from sin as expressed by freedom from the devil; he knows nothing of any concept of people being sanctified in their soul but possessed in their bodies. The Spirit and the demons cannot share the same frame, and this applies to every Christian who lives in a state of grace ("true Christians", as Origen says).

Let us move on to Lactantius, who wrote around the period of Diocletian's persecution:

Lactantius: "For they think that those demons profit them when they cease to injure, whereas they have no power except to injure. Some one may perchance say that they are therefore to be worshiped, that they may not injure, since they have the power to injure. They do indeed injure, but those only by whom they are feared, whom the powerful and lofty hand of God does not protect, who are uninitiated in the mystery of truth. But they fear the righteous, that is, the worshipers of God, adjured by whose name they depart from the bodies of the possessed: for, being lashed by their words as though by scourges, they not only confess themselves to be demons, but even utter their own names— those which are adored in the temples— which they generally do in the presence of their own worshipers; not, it is plain, to the disgrace of religion, but to the disgrace of their own honor, because they cannot speak falsely to God, by whom they are adjured, nor to the righteous, by whose voice they are tortured. Therefore ofttimes having uttered the greatest howlings, they cry out that they are beaten, and are on fire, and that they are just on the point of coming forth: so much power has the knowledge of God, and righteousness! Whom, therefore, can they injure, except those whom they have in their own power? In short, Hermes [pagan pseudonymic author Hermes Tresmegistus] affirms that those who have known God are not only safe from the attacks of demons, but that they are not even bound by fate" (Divine Institutes, Book II:16).

Lactantius repeats the teaching of Cyprian that Christians are "safe from the attacks of demons" and that those who suffer from the demons are those "who by whom they are feared"; i.e., those who, either through their disbelief or sinful lifestyles, are in the power of the devil, who are "in his dominion."

Finally, we have the Apostolic Constitutions, which, while not mentioning the issue of whether believers can be possessed or not, states that the power of exorcism was exercised (pun intended) by the common rank and file:

Apostolic Constitutions: "An exorcist is not ordained. For it is a trial of voluntary goodness, and of the grace of God through Christ by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. For he who has received the gift of healing is declared by revelation from God, the grace which is in him being manifest to all. But if there be occasion for him, he must be ordained a bishop, or a presbyter, or a deacon" (Apostolic Constitutions, 26).

The purpose of stating that an exorcist is not ordained in the early Church is in that is signifies that "the plainest person" has power over the devils, which is a form of "making manifest the grace which is in the word of Christ." Freedom from devils, including freedom from demonic possession, was seen as the common inheritance of all Christians.

In the end, it seems to me that the Church Fathers are completely against the idea that any true Christian can be possessed, let alone a saint. That this is their consensus, I think, is undeniable.

Here is the problem. The Fathers all agree that Christians are "free" from the "power" of the devil, but they do not really define what it means to be "free" from the devil's power. Clearly, the devil has a limited amount of accessibility to us that is granted by God, as evidenced not only by the Book of Job, but by Church History (the devil's attacks on St. John Bosco, St. John Vianney, etc). The question is how far this access of the devil to us extends. Fr. Amorth seems to say that it can extend indefinitely, even to the point of exorcism, while I, and it seems the Fathers, contend that this power seems to stop short of full-blown exorcism.

Of course, none of this solves the problem of whether or not God might permit such a thing, which is what some have asserted. The Fathers all agree that Christians have nothing to fear from the evil one, and that Christians have power over devils, but what if God, for some unknown purpose, seeks to temporarily suspend or withhold His protection, as He did in the case of Job? I suppose there is no way to know; I generally do not to take a stand on something like this based on private revelations, even those made by saints. All I can say is that it seems like the Christian freedom from Satan is so closely bound up with Christ's work of redemption, as evidenced by the writings of the Fathers, that possession of a Christian by the devil seems to be outside of the realm of what God would will.

Obviously God is not opposed to Christians being humbled, or undergoing humiliating circumstances on this earth, but bodily subjection seems to be a sort of humiliation or subjection that is of a different order, something abhorrent to God and outside of the will of Him who "appeared for this purpose, to destroy the works of the devil.” (1 John 3:8).

This is just my opinion and I admit I may be wrong.

Law and Tradition

In two weeks, all of the dioceses in the U.K. will reinstate the pre-Vatican II law requiring (not recommending) but requiring abstinence of meat on Fridays. This is a very welcome development from a region of the Church that is known for its wackiness and extremely progressive tendencies. We should all applaud this move by the British bishops as a step in the right direction and pray that such measures would be contemplated and enacted by their American counterparts.

How often have we all wished that the bishops of the world and the Holy Father would take definitive stands for the restoration of tradition! Imagine if this directive was followed up by another directive forbidding communion in the hand, or abolishing altar girls, or forcefully asking the bishops to stop relegating all the major feast days to Sunday, or forbidding drums in Mass, mandating chant, etc. How we would rejoice?

But, for the sake of argument, let me pose a question: Were all these things to take place, were the Magisterium to do nothing for the next two years other than legislate against abuses and forcefully impose traditional Catholicism, would Tradition be restored?

My answer is no. Tradition, in its fullest sense, cannot be restored by force of law. The loss of tradition was permitted by a relaxation of law, but a constricting of the law is not enough to bring Tradition back. Imagine a tank full of water that has a hole in it. The hole in the tank may certainly have allowed the water to seep out over time, but once the water is gone, repairing the hole will not bring the water back. Repairing the hole is integral in preparing the tank to receive water again, but we cannot be deluded into thinking that repairing the hole alone is sufficient to restore what was lost.

There are two elements to restoring Catholic Tradition and Catholic culture: one, of course, is the restoration of discipline from the top down. This involves the Magisterium being a bit more assertive in cracking down on abuses, restoring practices that have fallen into disuses, and backing up its wishes with canonical legislation, if necessary. The second element, however, is a docile and obedient flock who have hearts that are truly converted and are already predisposed to live out the full expression of Catholicism within their homes and spheres of influence.

Even if we were to have all the legislation and "top down" changes we all desire, unless they were embraced by a flock willing to put them in to practice, we cannot really say Tradition has been restored. Certainly we would be a lot better off than where we are now; perhaps some such moves on the part of the Magisterium would "trim the fat" of the Church by encouraging people who are Catholics in name only to "sh*t or get off the pot," so to say.

Even so, we as Traditionalists cannot become legalists. We cannot imagine that a true restoration of our culture can be simply imposed from above. That would be a very important step, just like it is an important step in refilling the tank to first repair the hole. But culture cannot be regained in the same manner it was lost. Though we speak of culture being "restored", in actuality we have to start over. With great care and intentionality we have to cherish and nurture a cultural and spiritual heritage that may not yet be a tradition for ourselves or our kids but will one day be so if it is faithfully passed on. This homegrown expansion of Catholic culture will be solidified, reinforced and given direction by a Magisterium that legislates in favor of discipline and tradition rather than against it.

There are two sides to this issue - one that comes from above, and one that comes up from below. We have to realize that both are necessary. Unless we personally are forming Catholic culture in our homes and families, we can't expect the Magisterium to form it by passing some new directives. Unless we are obedient, we can't expect new demands for obedience to be heeded. Unless we are pious, we cannot expect new legislation to create piety (though it can reinforce it).

I will share a personal story, the sort of which I do not usually share on here. Several years ago, perhaps around 2003, I was attending Mass at a local parish. It was one of those days when someone was sick, I had to stay home in the morning and catch a Sunday evening Mass to make up for it. Well, the liturgy was terrible. Music awful. People in tank-tops, Daisy-dukes, flip flops, etc. Priest gave an awful homily. Scores of people leaving Mass after communion. It was a disaster.

As I sat praying after communion, I was lamenting to God about the sad state of things in this parish, essentially complaining about the lack of reverence and extraordinarily shallow spirituality. I was pleading with God to renew His Church and wondering why the priests and bishops allowed this sort of thing. Then God spoke to my heart in a very firm manner, a manner in which one has a fair degree of moral certainty that the Holy Spirit is telling you something. He said to me, "If you think the Church lacks piety, you be pious. If Catholics do not pray enough, you pray. If there is a lack of reverence, you be reverent. If they there is a lack of penance, you do penance."

I don't think the message was that other people do not need to reform or that the Church on the institutional level doesn't need to make some serious changes; the point was that renewal starts with the individual. Laws and disciplines given by the Church are given for the purpose of building up and empowering individual Catholics to have a more dynamic relationship with the Lord and make true success in pursuing holiness.

I applaud the bishops of the U.K. for reintstating the Friday fast. But with what we know about the state of the Church in the U.K., how will this legislation play out when the people there are so poorly formed? No doubt it will beneficial to some; no doubt it is a step in the right direction. But unless we have true conversion from our hearts, we will find these sorts of legislation always bringing us up short of where we want to be.