The dogma of Mary’s Immaculate Conception should be affirmed by all Christians, especially those who belong to the apostolic Churches that accept the Council of Ephesus (e.g. Eastern Orthodox and Oriental Orthodox). Here’s why.

Mary’s Sinlessness Affirmed by the Apostolic Churches

It goes without saying that we all affirm the total personal sinlessness of the Blessed Virgin Mary. That is, the doctrine that our Lady never committed any sins (mortal or venial) during her entire life. This belief can be implicitly seen in the earliest known hymn to the Virgin Mary, the Sub tuum praesidium, which is still recited by all of our Churches today. It describes her as the “only pure one” and the “only blessed one,” language that doesn’t make much sense if the Virgin was a sinner like the rest of us. Indeed, the apostolic Churches would all converge on making this implicit doctrine explicit in their liturgical devotion to our Lady.

Just attend any Byzantine liturgy and you will hear how the language of the Sub tuum praesidium develops into our Lady being called All-Holy, Most Pure, All-Blameless, Spotless, Immaculate, Undefiled, and so forth—titles that aren’t used of any other saint. Likewise, read through Nectarios of Aegina’s beautiful hymn, O Pure Virgin, or the lovely Akathist Hymn to the Theotokos, and you will see how prominently the Byzantine tradition exalts Mary as sinless. The doctrinal Council of Jerusalem 1672, when naming those who “did not experience” actual sins, confirms among them, “especially the Mother of God the Word, the ever-virgin Mary.”1

The Oriental Orthodox tradition is just as clear. Like the Byzantine liturgy, the Coptic liturgy calls on our Lady under these beautiful titles, “Most of all, the pure, full of glory, ever-virgin, holy Theotokos.”2 Severus of Antioch (d. 538) helps explain what the Oriental Orthodox mean by this language, “She formed part of the human race and was of the same essence as we, although she was pure from all taint and immaculate.”3 Jacob of Serugh (d. 521) goes so far as to say, “[Mary] alone is humble, pure, limpid and without blemish, so that she was deemed worthy to be his mother and not another… If there had been a spot in her soul or a defect, He would have sought for Himself another mother in whom there is no blemish.”4

To all of this, the Catholic Church responds, “Yes and amen.”

Mary’s Sinlessness Questioned by Early Fathers

However, there’s a difficulty that arises for all of our traditions when it comes to defending this belief on historical grounds. As highlights, many of the early fathers and theologians (shared by all three Churches) expressly denied the total sinlessness of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

St. John Chrysostom (d. 407), for example, reads Christ’s response to our Lady at the wedding of Cana in this way: “He rebuked her, saying, ‘What is this between me and you, woman?’ (John 2:4) – to instruct her, so that she would not do the same in the future.”5 Elsewhere Chrysostom understands the Virgin’s actions in Matthew 12:46 as her acting “from excessive vanity,” and engaging in the same “madness” as the brothers of Jesus, “not yet thinking of [Christ] in a truly great way.”6 If this isn’t imputing sin to the Virgin Mary, then I’m not sure what would be.

Most interesting are the arguments for Mary’s sinfulness given by both Origen of Alexandria (d. 253) and St. Basil the Great (d. 379). Let’s start with Origen:

Why do we think that the mother of the Lord was immune from scandal when the apostles were scandalized? If she did not suffer scandal at the Lord’s Passion, then Jesus did not die for her sins. But, if ‘all have sinned and lack God’s glory, but are justified by his grace and redeemed,’ then Mary too was scandalized at that time.

Origen, Homily XVII on Luke, n. 6 (PG 13, 1845), qtd. in Kevin Fernandez, “The Virgin Mary’s Sinlessness in the Early Church.”

Representing the third century Alexandrian tradition, Origen reveals the likely reason why early Christians were intent on reading some sinfulness into our Lady: if she never committed any actual sins during her life, “then Jesus did not die for her sins.”

St. Basil the Great, interpreting the same biblical text (Lk 2:35) as Origen about one century later, comes to the same conclusion:

Now every soul in the hour of the Passion was subjected, as it were, to a kind of searching. According to the word of the Lord it is said, ‘All you shall be offended because of me.’ Simeon therefore prophesies about Mary herself, that when standing by the cross, and beholding what is being done, and hearing the voices, after the witness of Gabriel, after her secret knowledge of the divine conception, after the great exhibition of miracles, she shall feel about her soul a mighty tempest. The Lord was bound to taste of death for every man — to become a propitiation for the world and to justify all men by His own blood. Even you yourself, who hast been taught from on high the things concerning the Lord, shall be reached by some doubt. This is the sword. That the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed. He indicates that after the offense at the Cross of Christ a certain swift healing shall come from the Lord to the disciples and to Mary herself, confirming their heart in faith in Him. In the same way we saw Peter, after he had been offended, holding more firmly to his faith in Christ. What was human in him was proved unsound, that the power of the Lord might be shown.

St. Basil, Letter 260, 9.

According to Basil, because Christ “was bound to taste of death for every man,” it was necessary that “every soul in the hour of the Passion was subjected” to doubt, Mary included. This is why, after the Passion, “healing” needed to come not only “to the disciples,” but also “to Mary herself,” since they had all fallen away from faith “in the same way.” Once again, like Origen, Basil believes that this was necessary in order for Christ “to justify all men,” Mary included, “by His own blood.”

As I’ll explain below, even St. Cyril of Alexandria himself affirmed the position of Origen and St. Basil that our Lady had sinful doubts at the Cross.

So how did the apostolic Churches come to affirm the total sinlessness of the Virgin in the face of these dissenting patristic voices?

The Development of Mary’s Sinlessness and Original Sin

Consider that the Marian piety contemporary with Origen, St. Basil, and St. John Chrysostom did allude to her sinlessness. We already saw this in the Sub tuum praesidium prayer, which declares the Virgin alone to be “pure” and “blessed.” Fathers like St. Ephrem the Syrian (d. 373) likewise prayed, “You [Christ] alone and Your mother, more than all, are very fair. There is no blemish on You, O my Lord, and no spots on Your mother.”7 St. Epiphanius of Salmis (d. 403) similarly affirms that our Lady committed (at least) no mortal sins: “How can the holy Mary not inherit the kingdom of heaven, flesh and all, when she did not commit fornication or uncleanness or adultery or do any of the intolerable deeds of the flesh, but remained undefiled?”8

Why is this?

I believe the answer lies in the early (perhaps even apostolic)9 identification of Mary as the new Eve. In a theological paradigm where Jesus the new Adam and Mary the new Eve are righteous, in distinction to the old Adam and Eve who are sinful, it’s understandable to want to attribute as little sin to our Lady as possible. Hence even among the fathers who deny Mary’s sinlessness, they hold her to have sinned only once or twice in her entire lifetime (in enormous contrast to many Protestants who believe that our Lady was a sinner “just like the rest of us”).

Once this is understood, it sheds light on why some of these fathers felt compelled to impute sinfulness to our Lady at all. It’s not as if these fathers were impious and particularly wanted to attribute sin to the Blessed Virgin. Instead, the reality is that they hadn’t theologically worked out how Mary could have committed no sins and yet still be in need of a Redeemer. As a result, since the Christian impulse was always to attribute as little sin to Mary as possible, while safeguarding her need for a Savior, the best many fathers could do was to minimize the number of sins she committed.

It therefore comes as no surprise that, by the time we see the total sinlessness of the Virgin cement itself in the patristic mind (ca. fifth century), this doctrine is developing alongside another one that directly addresses the issue of how one can be personally sinless and yet still need a Savior: original sin.

The doctrine of original sin is quite controversial in the modern day, especially among our separated eastern brethren. However, in the fifth century, the only major sect that opposed this doctrine was the heretical Pelagians. So much could be said about the Pelagian controversy, St. Augustine’s teachings on original sin, and the Church’s reception of those teachings.10 But what I want to focus on is this: one of the things that came out of the Pelagian controversy was the Church’s emphatic affirmation that, via original sin, it’s indeed possible for someone to have committed no personal sins, and yet still be in need of Christ’s salvation.

The classic example of this is infants. St. Augustine famously questioned Julian the Pelagian on how he could affirm that Christ died for infants if they had no sin: “[Julian] asks: ‘How are infants guilty, for whom Christ died?’ We answer: Nay, how are infants not guilty, since Christ died for them?”11 The brilliant point Augustine makes against Julian is that, if Christ died for infants, and if His blood was “shed for many for the remission of sins” (Matt 26:28), then it follows that infants, despite not having committed any actual sins, must still have some sin for which Christ died. This sin is what we call “original sin.”

Augustine thus opens a new category of human beings who, despite being perfectly sinless (in terms of actual sin), nonetheless still need to be saved by the redeeming sacrifice of Jesus Christ.

The impact this would have on the Church’s Mariology should be obvious. Since, once again, Christians have always believed that our Lady, without compromising her need for a Savior, had as little sin as possible, it makes sense that Augustine’s theological insights would allow the Church’s theologians to boldly proclaim that Mary never committed any actual sins.

The Council of Ephesus, Pelagianism, and the Development of Mary’s Sinlessness

I believe the Council of Ephesus 431 is a perfect illustration of how and when this doctrinal development took place.

It’s an undisputed fact (as far as I can tell) that Ephesus’ dogmatization of our Lady as the “Theotokos,” the God-bearer, led to a dramatic increase in Marian devotion in the decades and centuries following A.D. 431. I contend that Ephesus was also the event that led to the Church’s firm adoption of the doctrine of Mary’s sinlessness.

This was already starting with the theological champion of that very council, St. Cyril of Alexandria (d. 444). He not only vigorously defended our Lady as the All-Holy Mother of God against Nestorius, but he was also one of the first of the Church’s theologians to affirm that it is “through [Mary]” that “every faithful soul achieves salvation.”12 His homilies have beautiful words in praise of the Blessed Virgin that go just a bit beyond what we would (ordinarily) have seen a century or so earlier.13 As Fr. Gambero affirms, “One can safely state that Cyril of Alexandria inaugurated the much-beloved Byzantine homiletic technique in which the preacher would teach Marian truths by means of praises addressed to the Blessed Virgin.”14

Though St. Cyril himself denied our Lady’s sinlessness,15 his Marian devotion was developed and deepened by his disciples in both the Oriental Orthodox tradition (as we saw above with Severus of Antioch and Jacob of Serugh), and the Byzantine tradition. Indeed, less than a century will go by before we get the aforementioned Akathist Hymn to the Theotokos, which contains many lines that won’t sound foreign to readers of Cyril and the post-fifth century Alexandrian tradition. Unsurprisingly, all of these sources affirm our Lady’s total sinlessness.

I thus find it quite telling that Nestorianism wasn’t the only heresy condemned by this “Marian” Council of Ephesus. Rather, Ephesus likewise condemned (surprise surprise) the heresy of Celestius the Pelagian. Geoffrey Dunn documents this as follows:

At the Council of Ephesus in 431, which we may well describe as Cyril’s own ecumenical council, in addition to the anathemas pronounced against Nestorianism, we find a canon threatening with deposition any metropolitan bishop who endorsed the teaching of Caelestius, a canon threatening with deposition any cleric who endorsed the teaching of either Nestorius or Caelestius, and a synodal letter to Celestine, bishop of Rome, noting that this had been done.

Geoffrey Dunn, “Augustine, Cyril of Alexandria, and the Pelagian Controversy,” p. 65.

Significantly, Dunn goes on to explain that, while there were many different theological views held by those we now identify as Pelagians, “the denial of the doctrine of original sin was the only ‘essential article of belief for any would-be Pelagian. Once there is agreement on that point there is a reasonable margin for different tendencies and emphases.’”16 Thus, if the condemnation of Celestius by Ephesus 431 meant anything, it meant the Church’s ecumenical acceptance of St. Augustine’s doctrine of original sin against the Pelagians’ denial thereof.

Further confirming this is a discovery that the Austrian scholar Johannes Divjak made in 1969. He found what has come to be known as the “Divjak letters,” one of which is a letter written by St. Augustine of Hippo to St. Cyril of Alexandria. Through this letter, we know that Cyril had access to (at least) a Greek version of Augustine’s De Gestis Pelagii, wherein he summarizes many of the errors of the Pelagians, among them being their effective denial of original sin. In other words, Cyril was almost certainly aware of what Augustine thought about original sin, and he therefore endorsed it by condemning one of Augustine’s chief theological opponents at Ephesus.

Moreover, as Nathaniel McCallum demonstrates at length, when it comes to the content of Augustine’s doctrine of original sin, we find “significantly overlapping ideas in [the writings of] Cyril, demonstrating (contra Romanides and Meyendorff) that at least one prominent Greek Father had integrated a sense of guilt from solidarity with Adam as Augustine has done.”17

Circling back to the main thesis of the present article, here’s what’s certain. St. Cyril and the Council of Ephesus simultaneously (1) drew theological attention to our Lady as the All-Pure, All-Holy Mother of God (contra Nestorius), and (2) doctrinally cemented a category for someone who never committed any actual sins, and yet still needed to be redeemed by Christ (contra Pelagius and Celestius). Given the Church’s belief has always been that, to whatever extent it’s theologically possible for Mary to have been sinless, to that extent she was, in fact, sinless, it’s perfectly understandable why this leads to the explicit and emphatic proclamation of our Lady’s total sinlessness in the post-Ephesian Church.

We thus see doctrinal development at work. While earlier fathers didn’t hold to the sinlessness of the Virgin, they did affirm the theological principle that would enable later fathers to hold this position. This process of development, I will argue, is exactly what happened with the doctrine of our Lady’s Immaculate Conception as well, and it’s the reason why all apostolic Christians should be consistent and hold to it.

The Debitum Peccati and the Immaculate Conception

At this point, there may be many Eastern and Oriental Orthodox who agree with the arguments I’ve made. Perhaps they would try to downplay the extent to which doctrinal development occurred with respect to Mary’s sinlessness (though they would be unsuccessful), but they could still affirm most of what I’ve said and deny the Immaculate Conception. This is the matter to which we now turn.

Fernandez wrote another brilliant article which I recommend all of my readers take a look at, “Did St. Augustine Believe in the Immaculate Conception of Mary?.” If my analysis thus far is correct, then this title asks a very relevant question. Augustine was at the forefront of hammering out the Church’s doctrine of original sin, and he was also living during the time period in which Mary’s sinlessness was coming to be accepted by the whole Church. It’s therefore very instructive to know that Augustine, arguably, affirmed our Lady’s exemption from original sin. Fernandez certainly makes a compelling case for this in his article.

But how could Augustine do this given his emphasis on the sinfulness of even the most innocent among us? This is where we need to make an important distinction between two different senses of original sin. This is where a lot of non-Catholic critics of the Immaculate Conception get confused, so pay close attention.

First, we have original sin in the sense of the state of being deprived of original justice or sanctifying grace. This is a spiritual condition that affects the soul alone, and it’s the condition into which all of us were born. Indeed, it’s the condition that justifies the Church’s practice of infant baptism—if infants weren’t originally deprived of sanctifying grace, then they wouldn’t need to receive it in baptism.

It’s this sense of original sin, and this sense alone,18 that Catholics refuse to predicate of the Blessed Virgin Mary. In other words, when we say that “by a singular grace” our Lady “was preserved free from all stain of original sin,” we mean that her soul was in a state of grace from the first moment of its creation. There was never a point in time when, if Mary had died, she would have gone to hell. Not even for a fraction of a millisecond was our Lady under the domain of Satan, rather her soul was always under the dominion of grace. This is what’s meant when we say that the Virgin was immaculately conceived or conceived without sin.

This is to be distinguished from the second sense of original sin, what many theologians call the debitum peccati. This is the fallen condition of the flesh that receives a soul, a soul which it then stains with the aforementioned sense of original sin. The analogy St. Augustine uses to describe this is, just as a dirty vessel taints its content, so does “dirty flesh,” flesh conceived naturally in concupiscence, taint the soul with the stain of original sin, i.e. the deprivation of sanctifying grace.19

This debitum peccati, what we can even call “the debt of original sin,” is something that Catholics believe Mary had in her flesh. Unlike our Lord, our Lady was conceived naturally and therefore had fallen flesh from Adam that was subject to receiving original sin (her body had a “debt” to taint her soul with original sin). The “singular grace” of the Immaculate Conception is precisely the grace that stopped this from happening.

Consider the difference, from a Catholic perspective, between the sinless conceptions of Jesus and Mary. Did Jesus need a Savior? Absolutely not. But why? Because His flesh was conceived supernaturally, i.e. not out of concupiscence, and therefore His soul was never subject to receiving original sin in the first place. Christ didn’t need a Savior because there was nothing from which He needed to be saved.

This is different from Mary, who absolutely did need a Savior, and who therefore did need something from which she could be saved. What was she saved from? Her soul was saved from contracting original sin. But why was her soul going to contract original sin if God didn’t redemptively intervene to stop it? Because her flesh had the debt of original sin as a result of being conceived naturally. It’s therefore because our Lord freed our Lady from the effect of this debt (i.e. the contraction of original sin in the soul at animation) that we say He saved her.

This is the Catholic understanding of the Immaculate Conception, and it’s clear how much it relies on the theological insights of St. Augustine. Indeed, in understanding these insights, one can see how Augustine didn’t merely discover a category for redeemed human souls that have no actual sins but still have the stain of original sin—a category that, if the Virgin was in, she would be sharing with a large number of baptized infants who died before the age of reason (not to mention holy men like St. John the Baptist). Rather, Augustine’s ecumenically approved theology also establishes a category for someone who, despite being free of the stains of both actual and original sin, nonetheless needs a Savior.

And since, as shown above, the Church’s belief has always been that our Lady had as little sin as possible, without compromising her need for a Savior,20 the theological awareness of this category compels a faithful Christian to place our Lady into it. It therefore comes as no surprise that St. Augustine himself, arguably, did just this. Once again, see Fernandez’s aforementioned article for a full treatment of that issue. Likewise see ’s article, “St. Thomas, Doctor of the Immaculate Conception?,” for an explanation of how St. Thomas Aquinas taught the Marian privilege in these Augustinian terms as well.

The Argument: Why Eastern and Oriental Orthodox Should Accept the Immaculate Conception

I truly believe that the above understanding of the development of the doctrine of Mary’s Immaculate Conception is one that Eastern and Oriental Orthodox Christians should be able to embrace. Here’s my formal argument.

First, through Ephesus 431, we all agree with the theological framework in which it’s possible for a person’s soul to be totally free of both actual sin and original sin, and yet still be in need of salvation. Ultimately, this is why we believe in the necessity of Christ’s conception by the Holy Spirit: if His flesh at any point had the debt of original sin, His soul would have needed to be saved from its stain. In other words, the Savior would have needed a Savior—an impious belief. This entails that there could exist someone other than Christ (i.e. someone in need of salvation) who has this debt of original sin in the flesh, and the flesh alone (i.e. not the soul).

Second, we likewise all agree with the perennial belief of the Church that, to whatever extent it’s possible for our Lady to be Immaculate, All-Pure, and sinless, without compromising her need for a Savior, to that extent she was, in fact, sinless. Indeed, this is how we all came to believe in our Lady’s total personal sinlessness despite earlier patristic dissent.

Therefore, since we all believe that it’s theologically possible for someone, without compromising their need for a Savior, to have been conceived without original sin (in the soul), and since our Lady would clearly be more holy and pure if she was conceived in this way than not, then it follows that she was, in fact, immaculately conceived.

Further Arguments for Eastern Orthodox to Accept the Immaculate Conception

In these next sections, I want to provide additional arguments that will help individual Eastern and Oriental Orthodox Christians accept the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary, even if they presently choose not to become Catholic (though they should do that too).

First, for my Eastern Orthodox readers.

Something I want to convey from the start is that, as far as I’m aware, the Eastern Orthodox Church doesn’t definitively condemn belief in the Immaculate Conception. Yes I’m aware that John Maximovitch (d. 1966) opposed this doctrine in his infamous work, “An Orthodox Christian Understanding of the Immaculate Conception.” However, (1) this is just the opinion of one saint (remember, there are a number of early saints who opposed your own doctrine of Mary’s sinlessness as well), and (2) his arguments against the doctrine are, quite frankly, bad, and easily resolved by the articulation of the Immaculate Conception given in this article.21

More substantial are the Eastern Orthodox critics of the doctrine who point to the Council of Jerusalem 1672, Decree 6, as a pan-Orthodox authority that rejects the Marian privilege. It reads as follows:

We believe the first man created by God to have fallen in Paradise, when, disregarding the Divine commandment, he yielded to the deceitful counsel of the serpent. And as a result hereditary sin flowed to his posterity; so that everyone who is born after the flesh bears this burden, and experiences the fruits of it in this present world. But by these fruits and this burden we do not understand [actual] sin, such as impiety, blasphemy, murder, sodomy, adultery, fornication, enmity, and whatever else is by our depraved choice committed contrarily to the Divine Will, not from nature. For many both of the Forefathers and of the Prophets, and vast numbers of others, as well of those under the shadow [of the Law], as well as under the truth [of the Gospel], such as the divine Precursor, and especially the Mother of God the Word, the ever-virgin Mary, did not experience these [sins], or such like faults. But only what the Divine Justice inflicted upon man as a punishment for the [original] transgression, such as sweats in labor, afflictions, bodily sicknesses, pains in child-bearing, and, finally, while on our pilgrimage, to live a laborious life, and lastly, bodily death.

The Confession of Dositheus (Eastern Orthodox, 1672), Decree 6.

The Council of Jerusalem teaches that “the Mother of God the Word, the ever-virgin Mary,” despite being free from “[actual] sin,” nonetheless contracted “hereditary sin” as “a punishment” from Adam. That certainly sounds like a rejection of the Immaculate Conception… until you see how the “punishment for the [original] transgression” is being defined here: “sweats in labor, afflictions, bodily sicknesses, pains in child-bearing, and, finally, while on our pilgrimage, to live a laborious life, and lastly, bodily death.”

Notice that everything in this list of “punishments” pertains to the body, not the soul. The Jerusalem Council even affirms in the very next decree that our Lady was specially exempted from one of these bodily punishments, namely labor pains.22 So my question is: how does this contradict the Immaculate Conception? It doesn’t.

Remember that the Catholic dogma only pertains to the freedom of our Lady’s soul from the stain of original sin, and, in fact, depends upon her body having had the debt of original sin at some point. Thus, an affirmation that our Lady was subject to bodily curses such as sickness and death is not an affirmation that her soul was ever subject to eternal damnation.

Careful readers will also see how this reasoning resolves the difficulty raised by the Eastern Orthodox insistence on the death or dormition of the Mother of God. Since our Lady’s flesh, unlike our Lord’s, was conceived naturally and thus subject to the same debt of original sin as all descendants of Adam, her soul being preserved from contracting the stain of original sin doesn’t entail her exemption from the fleshly punishments of original sin (unless she’s specially cleansed from those, as is the case with labor pains). This is why she naturally died, as the Eastern tradition attests.

Ironically, the opinion of Elder Paisios (d. 1994) that our Lady “was all pure, because Her conception occurred without pleasure... [she was] conceived not by sexual lust, but by obedience to God,”23 is what actually undermines both Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Mariology. According to the doctrine of original sin articulated by St. Augustine and accepted at the Council of Ephesus, the concupiscence of the marital act is precisely what causes the newly conceived flesh to be stained with original sin, which in turn causes the enjoined soul to be stained as well. So if Elder Paisios were consistent, he would, in fact, have to affirm that our Lady was free of original sin in both soul and body, which would undermine her need for a Savior.

Don’t take my word for it, take it from Fr. Daniel Sysoev (d. 2009), a Russian Orthodox martyr whom many Eastern Orthodox regard as an authority. When commenting on Psalm 51:5, “In sin did my mother conceive me,” he writes, “This refers to passionate desire at the moment of conception. At that very moment man falls under the influence of sin... This sin is what is known as ancestral sin; that is, the distortion of the will, senses, and mind, which is transmitted at the moment of conception.” Thus according to Fr. Sysoev, because all men have original sin, this is why “passionless conception does not happen with the exception being the Theotokos, but she conceived without a husband. And the Theotokos herself as born with ancestral sin.”24

Clearly, when Fr. Sysoev says that our Lady’s passionless conception was “the exception,” he’s referring to her conception of Christ by the Holy Spirit, not her own conception in the womb of St. Anna. Fr. Sysoev understands that, contra Elder Paisios, if Ss. Joachim and Anna conceived the Theotokos in a passionless manner, then she wouldn’t be subject to ancestral sin at all, a position Sysoev rejects.

To illustrate just how fundamentally modern Eastern Orthodox thinkers like John Maximovitch and Elder Paisios misunderstand the Immaculate Conception, consider the brilliant Eastern Orthodox theologian ’s (I mean that sincerely, I truly admire and respect his work) attempt to distinguish the Orthodox and Catholic views of the Marian privilege:

In one sense, original sin refers to the ontological corruption of human nature and its inherent tendency towards division and death. In the other sense, original sin refers to the movement of the will towards sin and the person’s active participation in that movement. My personal belief is that Our Lady was immaculately conceived in the latter sense but not in the former sense.

Seraphim Hamilton, “Immaculate Conception.”

In his attempt to reject the Catholic dogma, he ends up affirming it! Remember how Fr. Daniel Sysoev defined the stain of original sin that the Immaculate Conception denies to Mary: “ancestral sin; that is, the distortion of the will.” By stating that our Lady had a perfectly undistorted will from conception, Hamilton therefore accepts the Marian privilege. He’s just one example of an Eastern Orthodox Christian who, though unknowingly, already believes in the Immaculate Conception. I would encourage him to continue holding this belief, and all this article really seeks to accomplish is to encourage his fellow churchmen to do likewise.

Indeed, you would be in good Eastern Orthodox company holding firmly to the Immaculate Conception of our Lady.

Who can forget that the medieval Eastern Orthodox opponent of the Council of Florence, Gennadios Scholarios (d. 1472), taught the Marian privilege? He writes that, although “in accordance with the common laws of nature, she was not immune of the original sin,” i.e. Mary, unlike Jesus, was subject to receiving original sin on account of her natural conception,25 “the grace of God [nonetheless] delivered her completely from the original sin, as if she was conceived in a virginal manner… a privilege she alone, among men, had received.”26 While our Lord was actually conceived of a virgin, and thus needed no special grace to prevent His reception of original sin, our Lady was only “conceived in a virginal manner” by grace, and thus did need God’s redemptive intervention in order to enjoy the singular privilege of being “completely delivered of the original culpability and punishment” at conception. This accords perfectly with the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, and Scholarios was never condemned by the Eastern Orthodox Church for holding this position.

Indeed, take special note of Scholarios’ teaching that the Immaculate Conception is “a privilege she alone, among men, had received.” That Mary has some absolutely unique relation to sin is obvious from Byzantine liturgical piety. But I would pose this question to my Eastern Orthodox readers: how can our Lady have a unique relationship to sin if she was no more cleansed of it than St. John the Baptist or the Prophet Jeremiah, both of whom were sinless from the womb?27 She can’t. The Immaculate Conception is thus the only way for Eastern Orthodox Christians to affirm the absolutely unique and singular purity of the Virgin.

Other Eastern Orthodox saints understood this. A prominent example would be Dimitri of Rostov (d. 1709), whom some regard as “the Russian Chrysostom.” He not only taught that our Lady was unique in that she was immaculately conceived, but he even belonged to a confraternity called the “Brotherhood of the Immaculate Conception.”28 As Fr. Lev Gillet points out,29 in the 17th century, much of “the Academy of Kiev, with Peter Moghila, Stephen Gavorsky and many others, taught the Immaculate Conception in terms of Latin theology.” In the year 1667, a Council in Moscow even “approved Simeon Polotsky’s book called The Rod of Direction, in which he said: ‘Mary was exempt from original sin from the moment of her conception.’”

It therefore comes as no surprise that the Old Believers, a group that broke off from the mainstream Russian Orthodox Church during this time, has consistently defended the doctrine of Mary’s Immaculate Conception even until today.

In his excellent article, “Old Believers and the Immaculate Conception,”30 points us to Old Believer saints such as Inok Paul (d. 1854), who taught that the Theotokos “was not only completely free from original sin, but also was completely pure and very good, like heaven.” We also see others like Nikita Dobrynin (d. 1683) who were more forceful. Upon reading that certain mainstream Russian authorities were opposed to the Immaculate Conception, he wasn’t afraid to denounce them as impious heretics: “And again, regarding the Most Holy Theotokos, this is written [by the mainstream Russian theologians]: ‘the original sin was in her.’ And this is written by heretics, for the Most Holy Theotokos was sanctified from her mother’s womb and prepared as a dwelling place for God.”

To support their belief that, “the holy God-bearer possessed no defilement whatsoever even before her conception; she was holy and pure,”31 Old Believers even today cite such authorities as the Sixth Ecumenical Council, which refers to our Lady as “the immaculate Virgin Mary” and “the holy, immaculate, ever-virgin and glorious Mary.”32 They likewise appeal to St. John Damascene’s teaching that the Theotokos is “the honorable, most holy, and undefiled treasury of purity,”33 and St. Tarasius’ affirmation that the Blessed Virgin, “foreordained from the creation of the world… was and is pure and undefiled.”34 Are they wrong to do so?

At the very least, all of this demonstrates that there were many saintly and zealous men in the post-schism Eastern tradition that could see how the Immaculate Conception was implicitly contained within the Mariology of the first millennium. They fully understood the Church’s perennial belief that, to whatever extent it was possible for our Lady to have been sinless, to that extent she was, in fact, sinless. Although not every post-schism Eastern theologian arrived at the Immaculate Conception in precise terms, they’re all clearly pointing in that direction. After all, how can one be steeped in Byzantine Marian piety and not consider the possibility that there was never a point in time that she was deprived of sanctifying grace? This, I believe, lends exceptional credence to the thesis of the present article that the Catholic Church’s definition of the Immaculate Conception was a legitimate development.

I’ll leave you with this. The Russian Orthodox Church didn’t issue an official (local, not pan-Orthodox) repudiation of the Immaculate Conception until 1884,35 likely in a knee-jerk reaction to Pope Pius IX’s dogmatic definition. The appearance of our Lady of Fatima in 1917 occurred exactly 33 years later. Not only was her initial appearance (May 13th, 1917) on the Russian Orthodox feast of St. Photini (the Samaritan woman who was essentially an “old covenant schismatic”), but her public miracle of the sun happened on October 13th, 1917—at the exact time that the Russian Church was holding vigil for the Feast of the Protection of the Mother of God, which is one of the only Eastern Marian feasts that commemorates a public appearance of our Lady. The fact that our Lady of Fatima specifically desired to consecrate Russia to her Immaculate Heart, an Orthodox country with a strong history of teaching the Immaculate Conception, is thus hard to ignore. Do with that what you will.36

Further Arguments for Oriental Orthodox to Accept the Immaculate Conception

Onto the Oriental Orthodox.

For the Orientals, Fernandez points us to Jacob of Serugh (d. 521) as one of their post-schism saints who likely affirmed the Marian privilege. Although he did believe, in line with the broader Eastern Christian tradition, that it was at the Annunciation that the Holy Spirit “sanctified [Mary], purified her and made her blessed among women; [and] He freed her from that curse of sufferings on account of Eve,” this was so that Christ “might take from her a pure body without sin.”37

Indeed, every time Jacob discusses our Lady’s “purification” it’s with respect to her body, not her soul:

Lest the body with which He clothed Himself according to nature be sullied, He purified the Virgin by the Holy Spirit and then dwelt in her. The Son of God wanted to be related to her, and first He made her body without sin. The Word had descended that He might become flesh; on this account, by the Spirit He purified the one from whom He had become flesh, so that He might become like us in everything when He descended, except for this: that his pure body is without sin… He made her pure, limpid, and blessed as that Eve, before the serpent spoke with her.
Jacob of Serugh, Homily 1 in from On the Mother of God. Translated by Mary Hansbury, St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1998, p. 35., qtd. in Kevin Fernandez, “St. Jacob of Serugh (+521) on Perfect Mary’s Holiness.”

Remember, the Immaculate Conception doctrine isn’t at all opposed to our Lady having “the curse of Eve” or even the stain of original sin in her body. Without this, there would have been nothing from which Mary could be redeemed. Instead, the doctrine states only that our Lady’s soul was always immaculate, something Jacob appears to affirm elsewhere:

She was most fair both in her nature and in her will, because she was not sullied with displeasing desires. From her childhood, she stood firm in unblemished uprightness; she walked in the way without offenses. Her original nature was preserved with a will for good things because there were always tokens of virginity in her body and holy things in her soul… Because she became the mother of the Son of God, I saw and firmly believed that she is the only woman in the world who is entirely pure. From when she knew to distinguish good from evil, she stood firm in purity of heart and in integrity of thoughts. She did not turn aside from the justice which is in the Law, and neither carnal nor bodily desire disturbed her. From her childhood, impulses of holiness stirred within her, and in her excellence, she increased them with great care,

Homily 1 in On the Mother of God. Translated by Mary Hansbury, St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1998, p. 24, qtd. in Kevin Fernandez, “St. Jacob of Serugh (+521) on Perfect Mary’s Holiness.”

By stating that our Lady’s “original nature” was pure because “there were always tokens of virginity in her body and holy things in her soul,” and that “she is the only woman in the world who is entirely pure,” it’s clear that he doesn’t imagine Mary being deprived of sanctifying grace for nearly two decades between her Conception and the Annunciation. Rather, he believes that our Lady was “always” pure with respect to her soul, even though her body was still in need of cleansing. This is perfectly harmonious with the Church’s teaching on Mary’s sinless conception.

It’s also worth noting that no “magisterial” authority in the Oriental Orthodox tradition has condemned the Immaculate Conception. At most, some polemicists criticize the doctrine merely as a knee-jerk reaction to anything “western,” but there’s nothing preventing a pious Oriental Orthodox from affirming it.

Curiously, the modern Ethiopian Orthodox Church appears to have a number of voices affirming the Marian privilege.38 At least one official source from the Eritrean Orthodox Church (which used to belong to the Ethiopian Church) states in no uncertain terms that, “The Blessed Virgin Mary was born without Adam’s original sin. She is free from original sin because She is the tabernacle of God the Son.”39 Is this really that different from Severus of Antioch’s teaching that though our Lady “formed part of the human race and was of the same essence as we,” she nonetheless “was pure from all taint and immaculate”?40

A final note for my Oriental Orthodox readers. As troublesome as it is to accept, your hero St. Cyril of Alexandria himself doesn’t perfectly align with your own tradition of our Lady being “pure from all taint and immaculate.” In his commentaries on the Gospel of St. John, Cyril confirms the teachings of Origen and St. Basil that the Virgin had sinful doubts at the Cross:

He represents, as standing by the Cross, His mother, and with her the rest, clearly weeping. For women are ever prone to tears, and very much inclined to lament, especially when they have abundant occasion for shedding tears. What, then, induced the blessed Evangelist to go so much into detail, as to make mention of the women as staying beside the Cross? His object was to teach us that, as was likely, the unexpected fate of our Lord was an offence unto His mother, and that His exceeding bitter death upon the Cross almost banished from her heart due reflection; and, besides the insults of the Jews, and the soldiers also, who probably stayed by the Cross and derided Him Who hung thereon, and who presumed, in His mother’s very sight, to divide His garments among themselves, had this effect.

For, doubtless, some such train of thought as this passed through her mind: “I conceived Him That is mocked upon the Cross. He said, indeed, that He was the true Son of Almighty God, but it may be that He was deceived; He may have erred when He said: I am the Life. How did His crucifixion come to pass? and how was He entangled in the snares of His murderers? How was it that He did not prevail over the conspiracy of His persecutors against Him? And why does He not come down from the Cross, though He bade Lazarus return to life, and struck all Judaea with amazement by His miracles?” The woman, as is likely, not exactly understanding the mystery, wandered astray into some such train of thought; for we shall do well to remember, that the character of these events was such as to awe and subdue the most sober mind. And no marvel if a woman fell into such an error, when even Peter himself, the elect of the holy disciples, was once offended.

St. Cyril of Alexandria, Commentary on John, pp. 903-4.

Cyril clearly teaches that our Lady “wandered astray” into such grievous doubts as questioning the very divinity of her Son! By these doubts she “fell into… error” just as “even Peter himself” did when he was “once offended.” For all of his praise of the Blessed Virgin, St. Cyril would unfortunately hold onto the position of Origen and St. Basil that our Lady wasn’t completely free from personal sin. Thankfully, however, Cyril would be one of the last early Christian writers to take this position, and it’s largely because of his own theological writings on the Theotokos!

What point am I making by drawing attention to this? It’s that the Oriental Orthodox have already undergone a doctrinal development in the direction of deepening our Lady’s holiness and purity. One example that illustrates this is how sharply Severus of Antioch diverges from St. John Chrysostom in his interpretation of the wedding of Cana. Whereas Chrysostom writes, “[Christ] rebuked [Mary], saying, ‘What is this between me and you, woman?’ (John 2:4) – to instruct her, so that she would not do the same in the future,”41 Severus of Antioch reads this in the exact opposite way:

[Christ] answered [his Mother] in a very harsh tone, to give his audience a lesson, as I have said, and to teach the truth, not because he wanted to displease his Mother: “What is this between you and me, O woman? My hour has not yet come” (Jn 2:4).

His Mother herself makes it clear that these words were not a reproof but an expedient for teaching because of the presence of strangers. She does not distance herself from him or leave, in the manner of a person who has received a reproof; neither is she silent, repenting her eagerness, as happens with a person who has been censured. To the contrary, fully aware in her mind of what was going to happen, she addressed the servants as if Jesus had not said anything at all: “Do whatever he tells you” (Jn 2:5), wishing to show something greater and more befitting God.

Severus of Antioch, Homily 199; PO 26, 378-84, qtd. in Fr. Luigi Gambero. Mary and the Fathers of the Church: The Blessed Virgin Mary in Patristic Thought. Ignatius Press, 1999, pp. 340-1 [Kindle ed.].

The fact that Chrysostom has little trouble reading Jesus’ words to Mary at Cana as a “rebuke,” but Serverus goes out of his way to deny this, demonstrates that a true theological development came after the Council of Ephesus. And if the Oriental Orthodox Church’s doctrine could mature and develop once for the glory of our Lady, it follows that it could do so again given sufficient reasons. Obviously, I believe this article has provided sufficient reasons, and so I invite all of my Oriental Orthodox brethren to join me in proclaiming the Virgin Mary as the Immaculate Conception!

Conclusion

In this article I have demonstrated that the Catholic Church’s teaching on the Immaculate Conception, once properly understood, is a legitimate doctrinal development that should be affirmed by both Eastern and Oriental Orthodox Christians. Not only have all three of our Churches already developed Marian doctrine in the direction of her sinlessness, but many post-schism authorities in all of our traditions explicitly affirm that this entails our Lady’s sinless conception as well.

I truly believe that the dogma of the Immaculate Conception, in God’s Providence, serves as an ecumenical foundation from which the Eastern and Oriental Churches can draw closer to full communion with the Catholic Church. My prayer is that our Immaculate Lady brings about this full unity soon! Thanks for reading.

Although I let my German speaking skills slip a bit in college, I’ve recently been trying to regain them through studying Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm’s classic 19th century compilation of Kinder- und Hausmärchen, “Children’s and Household Tales.” Due to my love of biblical symbolism, and the fact that the Grimms were devout Christians who most definitely coded biblical themes into their re-tellings of traditional stories, I thought I would share with you all some of the symbolism that I’ve noticed in these timeless classics.

The version of “Hänsel und Gretel” that I’ll be drawing from in this article can be found in the Grimm brothers’ Kinder- und Hausmärchen, große Ausgabe, Band 1, 1850. All translations are my own.

The Woodcutter and His Trees

Our story begins in much the same way that mankind’s story began, with a man and his wife surrounded by trees. The man is a Holzhacker, a “woodcutter,” and he has two children after whom the story is named, Hansel and Gretel.1

We’re told that the man deeply loves his children, but can no longer provide their täglich Brot, “daily bread,” on account of a great famine that’s made the basic necessities of life too expensive. There’s simply too little zu beißen und zu brechen, “to bite and to break.” There’s not enough food to eat, and even if there were, there’s not enough wood to chop that could pay for it.

This is the impetus for the man’s wife coming up with a sinister plot to get rid of the children, whom she clearly views as nothing more than unnecessary financial burdens. Early in the morning, she declares, they’ll take Hansel and Gretel to the densest part of the forest where they’ll build a fire, give each of the kids a little piece of bread, and then leave them to the wild animals.

The woodcutter is abhorred by his wife’s idea, but her relentless speech eventually wears him down. She insists that, if they don’t kill the children quickly, dann müssen wir alle viere Hungers sterben, “then all four of us will die of hunger,” and the only thing left for the woodcutter to do will be die Bretter für die Särge [zu] hobelen, “to board up the coffins.” With some pity for the kids (though clearly not enough), the man gives in. He listens to the voice of his wife and agrees to effectively kill his own children. But little does the couple know, Hansel and Gretel heard everything.

It’s hard to miss the biblical symbolism in this classic opening scene. I’ve already alluded to the Adam and Eve parallels, but let me spell those out more directly. I believe there’s Adamic significance to the father’s profession as a woodcutter, which is revealed particularly in the line, Er hatte wenig zu beißen und zu brechen, “he had little to bite and to break.” Although it’s clear that the man would be getting his food money from selling the wood he chopped down, the way this is worded symbolically deepens the connection between his food and his trees, his “biting” and his “breaking.”

The woodcutter’s täglich Brot, “daily bread”—a line that’s seemingly inspired by the German version of the Our Father, Unser tägliches Brot gib uns heute—is supposed to come from his honest work amidst the trees. I can’t help but see a parallel with Adam here. Recall that Adam was promised all of the trees of the garden (Gen 1:29), with only one being temporarily forbidden (Gen 2:16-17). He therefore had to trust that God would provide his daily bread from the trees given to him. It’s only after “listen[ing] to the voice of [his] wife” (Gen 3:17) that Adam doubts God’s provision, leading him to seek his “daily bread” apart from his heavenly Father. This ultimately condemns not just himself to death, but also his children, as we learn in Genesis 5 (which tells us that all of Adam’s descendants died just as he did).

This is the exact pattern that plays out in Hansel and Gretel. Rather than trusting in the trees that God has providentially given to him for food, the woodcutter listens to the voice of his wife and doubts God’s provision, causing him to condemn his children to a deadly and hellish fate. The father thus commits the sin of Adam.

Let’s further consider this fate to which Hansel and Gretel are condemned. As the woodcutter laments, if he were to leave his children by that fire in the middle of the forest, die wilden Thiere würden bald kommen und sie zerreißen, “the wild animals would soon come and tear them apart.” This is our first hint that there’s a man-eating threat out in the forest. Indeed, for many ancient cultures, the wilderness is seen as “demonic territory” at least partially on account of the deadly creatures—whether material or spiritual—that often lurk in the shadows.

In Sacred Scripture, this symbolism goes all the way back to Genesis 3:14-17. While Adam is condemned by being told that he “is dust,” the serpent is condemned by being told that he shall “eat dust.” This is the symbolic grammar that allows later biblical authors to associate the man-eating animals of the wilderness with the devil, e.g., “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour” (1 Pet 5:8). This is indeed why Scripture portrays the wilderness, with its vicious birds and beasts, as “Satan’s territory,” as seen in the Gospel accounts of our Lord going to the wilderness to battle the devil.2

Those who are familiar with Hansel and Gretel can likely already see where this is going. After all, the iconic villain of this story isn’t the evil step-mother or the weak father (maybe we should despise them more), but rather the child-eating böse Hexe, “evil witch,” that the children will encounter in the wilderness/forest. This witch is clearly a symbol of the devil, which is why she “prowls about” the wilderness, always seeking some children “to devour.” But she doesn’t quite “prowl” in the way that a lion does, now does she? More will be said about her below.

For now, the preliminary symbolic architecture of the story has been setup. The woodcutter is a new Adam who, like the old Adam, distrusts God’s arborous provision, gives into his wife’s temptation, and then banishes his children to the wild dominion of a man-eating serpent/witch. Quite a grim start for Hansel and Gretel.

The Rock in the Wilderness

Hansel stands in stark contrast to his weak father (German speakers can appreciate my pun there). After hearing their step-mother’s evil plan, Gretel begins crying profusely, but Hansel reassures her with these beautiful words, sei getrost, liebes Schwesterchen und schlaf nur ruhig ein, Gott wird uns nicht verlassen, “be courageous, my beloved sister, sleep peacefully, God will not abandon us.” Unlike his father, who clearly did believe that the Lord had abandoned his family, Hansel doesn’t give into despair. While his earthly father is a failure, Hansel trusts completely in his heavenly Father.

In order to protect himself and his sister, Hansel goes outside in the middle of the night to search for something he can use the following morning to create a trail leading back to his father’s house. The story recounts, Da schien der Mond ganz helle, und die weißen Kieselsteine, die vor dem Haus lagen, glänzten wie lauter Batzen, “The moon shined very bright, and the white pebbles that lay before the house gleamed like lots of silver pieces.” Hansel collects as many of these white pebbles as he can fit into his pants pocket, and then quietly slips back into the house to comfort Gretel.

The white pebbles illumined by moonlight, which are compared to precious medals,3 are the first of many “winks from heaven” that we see in this story. Indeed, I believe there’s great biblical significance to Hansel’s discovery of these luminous stones.

Throughout Scripture, there’s a symbolic connection between shiny stones and shiny stars. This arguably goes back to Genesis 2, which recapitulates the Creation Week and places Havilah’s “gold,” “bdellium and onyx stone[s]” in the fourth day—i.e. creation of the sun, moon, and stars—slot.4 This connection is most explicitly made in the book of Revelation, where the “twelve stars” that adorn the heavenly woman’s crown (Rev 12:1) correspond to the twelve gem stones that adorn the heavenly bride (Rev 21:19-20).5

The heavenly bodies are symbols of, among other things,6 God’s governing authority. This is why they’re the first of creation to exercise dominative “rule” (Gen 1:16). This is also why God’s tabernacle7 and later His temple, the palaces from which He reigned as King of Israel (“temple” in Hebrew, הֵיכָל, is the same word as “palace”), were adorned with precious stones and gems (cf. Ex 25:1-7; 1 Chron 29:1-9; 2 Chron 3:4-11)—symbols of the heavenly lights and thus of heavenly authority. This is also why God Himself is repeatedly called “the Rock” of Israel throughout the Old Testament (cf. Deut 32; Ps 18:2; 19:14, etc), a title closely linked to His kingship (consider Psalm 95:1-3, “let us sing joyfully to the Rock of our salvation… For the Lord is a great God, and a great King above all gods”).

How does this factor into Hansel and Gretel? The obvious answer is that Hansel’s discovery of white stones illuminated by the heavenly bodies is a sign of God’s providential or governing authority over the horrific circumstances that he and his sister find themselves in. It’s also a likely indication that the Lord’s royal judgment will enter this story at some point. But I believe there’s more going on here.

Remember Hansel’s encouragement to his sister after finding the pebbles, sei getrost… Gott wird uns nicht verlassen, “be courageous… God will not abandon us.” This sounds quite similar to Luther’s 1545 translation of Deuteronomy 31:6, Seid getrost und unverzagt… denn der HERR, dein Gott, wird selber mit dir wandeln und wird die Hand nicht abtun noch dich verlassen, “be courageous and fearless, for the Lord, your God, will go with you, and will not withdraw his hand nor abandon you.” Significantly, Moses says this just a handful of verses before the Torah’s final song is introduced in Deuteronomy 31:30, which is where God is explicitly identified as “the Rock” of Israel for the first time.

This “Song of the Rock,” found in Deuteronomy 32:1-43, calls God the “Rock” exactly five times (Deut 32:4, 15, 18, 30, 31). You’ll recall that another place we see five “rocks” or “stones” is in 1 Samuel 17:40, when King David selects “five smooth stones” to use in his fight against Goliath. The point is clear enough: David slays Goliath and secures his royal authority by the power of “the Rock,” the same divine and kingly Rock that followed the children of Israel through the wilderness for forty years, slaying their enemies on their behalf (cf. Deut 32:30-32).

Now consider how St. Paul reflects on the wilderness generation, “they drank from the spiritual Rock that followed them, and the Rock was Christ” (1 Cor 10:4). The heavenly Rock that followed Israel in the wilderness, destroying her enemies so long as she was faithful, was the pre-incarnate Christ. I believe this sheds light on Hansel’s discovery of Kieselsteine, literally “gravel stones,” to create a trail in the wilderness/forest. The moonlit stones represent Jesus Christ, the heavenly “Rock” who will follow Hansel and Gretel through the wilderness and fight on their behalf.

Ultimately, the gravel stones symbolize God, His righteous judgment, and His royal favor of Hansel and Gretel. They indicate that Christ the Rock will be leading His children through the wilderness/forest just as He led the children of Israel through the wilderness/desert in the days of old. The stones therefore likewise foreshadow the Rock’s impending battle against those who oppose His children, viz. the evil step-mother and (eventually) the witch. Back to the story.

The next day, as Hansel and Gretel are being led by their parents deep into the forest, we’re told, stand Hänsel still und guckte nach dem Haus zurück und that das wieder und immer wieder, “Hansel stood still and looked back at the house, and he did this over and over again.” Of course, Hansel was doing this to ensure that he was successfully creating a pebble-path back home, but when questioned by his father what he was doing, he claimed that he was looking at his weißen Kätzchen, das sitzt oben auf dem Dach, “white cat that’s sitting up on the roof.” His step-mother then rebuked him: Narr, das ist dein Kätzchen nicht, das ist die Morgensonne, die auf den Schornstein scheint, “Fool, that isn’t your cat, that’s just the morning sun shining onto the chimney.”

The “white cat” is clearly connected to the “white pebbles” that Hansel found the night before. That this cat is “up on the roof” also implies an association with heaven. Deepening this connection is the fact that his step-mother identifies the object of Hansel’s gaze as die Morgensonne, die auf den Schornstein scheint, “the morning sun that’s shining on the chimney.” The German word for chimney, Schornstein, has the word stein or “stone” in it, a word that’s likewise found in Hansel’s Kieselsteine, which, as noted above, could more literally be rendered as “gravel stones.”

Just as the heavenly moon illumined the white stones that will save Hansel and Gretel this time around, so does the heavenly “morning sun” illumine the “sheared stone,” the chimney, that Hansel identifies with his heavenly “cat.” The symbolism seems clear: Christ the Rock, whom the 1545 German Bible also identifies as die Sonne der Gerechtigkeit, “the Sun of Righteousness” (Mal 4:2), and der helle Morgenstern, “the bright Morning Star” (Rev 22:16), is the sovereign judge over what’s happening here, a fact that the evil step-mother herself invertedly acknowledges. So long as Hansel keeps his eyes fixed on Christ the Morning Star, everything will be fine. Back to the story again.

Once Hansel and Gretel are led deep enough into the woods, they heed their father’s command to gather a large pile of brushwood for a fire. The fire is lit, burns quite high, and the children are told by their step-mother to stay put and rest by the flames. She and their father will go collect some wood and then come back later… Though they know their step-mother is lying, Hansel and Gretel indeed wait by the fire, eat the pieces of bread (think “manna”) that were given to them earlier for this wilderness sojourn, and hope that their father will man up and rescue them. But alas…

Und weil sie die Schläge der Holzaxt, hörten, so glaubten sie ihr Vater wäre in der Nähe. Es war aber nicht die Holzaxt, es war ein Ast, den er an einen dürren Baum gebunden hatte und den der Wind hin und her schlug, “And because they heard the hitting of an axe, they believed that their father was nearby. But it was not an axe, it was a branch bound to a withering tree, which the wind was hitting back and forth.”

While they hoped for their earthly father, Hansel and Gretel instead received a sign from their heavenly Father. Not only is the wind associated with the Holy Spirit throughout Scripture (in many languages, including Hebrew and Greek, “wind” and “spirit” are the same word), but later in this very story Hansel and Gretel will go on to chant a famous German rhyme, der Wind, der Wind, das himmlische Kind, directly associating “the wind” with “the heavenly child,” whom I take to be the Christ Child. Symbolically, then, the Christ-wind “knocks at the door,” inviting the children to trust in His providential care as they undergo this trial (cf. Rev 3:20).

Eventually, Hansel and Gretel grow tired and fall asleep by the fire. When they awake, it’s finstere Nacht, “pitch-black night,” and Gretel immediately laments, wie sollen wir nun aus dem Wald kommen!, “how are we going to get out of the forest now!” But Hansel reassures her, wart nur ein Weilchen, bis der Mond aufgegangen ist, dann wollen wir den Weg schon finden, “just wait a little while until the moon rises, then we will find the way.” And sure enough, als der volle Mond aufgestiegen war, so nahm Hänsel sein Schwesterchen an der Hand und gieng den Kieselsteinen nach, die schimmerten wie neu geschlagene Batzen und zeigten ihnen den Weg, “as the full moon rose, Hansel took his sister by the hand and traveled down the pebble path, which shimmered like newly minted silver pieces, and showed them the way.”

Given all of the symbolism that’s been established thus far, this passage largely speaks for itself. The heavenly Rock leads the children back home, at which they arrive bei anbrechendem Tag, “by the breaking of day.” The Morning Sun rises with healing in its wings for the hopeful Hansel and Gretel, and while their father is struck to the heart with guilt, their step-mother is annoyed that her first plot failed.

Stay tuned for the next part in this series.

In his 1641 treatise, Meditations on First Philosophy, René Descartes ran a thought experiment that has come to be known as “the evil demon” argument. It’s essentially an epistemological exercise that posits the existence of a powerful demon, or a deus deceptor (deceiving god), who deceives us about the fundamental nature of reality to such an extent that we cannot trust our own senses. This thought experiment, while ultimately self-defeating (if you’re deceived about everything, wouldn’t you also be deceived about the existence of the deceiver?), is nonetheless useful for exploring the complex philosophy of how it’s possible for us to have true knowledge about the world.

Descartes, of course, didn’t actually believe in the existence of such a divine deceiver. Rather, “he was using [the argument] as part of a larger project to radically re-conceive epistemology in an era of rapid advancements in science that was threatening to overturn centuries of our understanding of the world.”1 However, it seems that we currently live in an era where numerous otherwise intelligent people practically do believe in Cartesian demons. They just call them “aliens.”

Since 2017, “aliens” have become mainstream. The 2025 documentary The Age of Disclosure contains interviews with dozens of intelligent, high ranking members of the U.S. government all attesting to the reality that there are “superior intelligences” that have been in contact with us for decades.

Just the other day I had a random video pop up on my YouTube feed by a Ufologist named Jesse Michels entitled, “Skinwalker Ranch & Sedona: The Underground Base Pipeline.” It may sound conspiratorial, but anyone who seriously looks into this stuff knows that it’s real. Since the mid-20th century the U.S. government has done psychological experiments such as remote viewing to enter into contact with “non-human intelligences” (NHIs), and the government is actively cooperating with these NHIs in the construction of secret military bases that are guarded by technologies that defy what we know about the laws of physics.

There is literally an app on mainstream Appstore’s called “CE5 Contact” (standing for “close encounters of the 5th kind”) that teaches you how to contact “extraterrestrials” through various occultic meditation practices. It was created by Dr. Steven Greer, who has been known to be able to summon UFOs and UAPs through his meditative practices (there are pre-AI video recordings of this actually happening).

The point of this article isn’t to “prove” that aliens are real. I don’t believe in aliens, and neither should you. Rather, it’s to argue that men like Greer and other Ufologists effectively believe in Cartesian demons and are therefore irrational and dangerous.

To understand why I hold this position, you must know that devout Ufologists don’t believe that extraterrestrial contact is an exclusively modern phenomenon. Oh no. They believe that these beings have been in contact with us for centuries if not millennia. As Jesse Michels states in the video quoted above, “They’ve been making contact through back channels, indigenous tribes, secret societies, occult practitioners, psychonauts, lone religious monks, or just some kid sending coherent love beams out his bedroom window.”

Indeed, the devout Ufologists will look at the credible miracle accounts from the ancient past until today and declare that it was all the work of NHIs. Whether it was Moses’ parting of the Red Sea, Elijah’s ascent to the heavens on a fiery chariot (doesn’t that sound like a UFO?!), our Lord Jesus Christ’s miracles, His being raised from the dead, or even the Shroud of Turin (consider how only “advanced technology” that “wasn’t available” in the Middle Ages could have produced it), Marian apparitions of the modern era (think of Our Lady of Guadalupe’s celestial imagery, Our Lady of Fatima where witnesses described a “disk” in the sky, or Our Lady of Zeitoun where there were luminous “doves” flying in formations that UAPs have been known to), all of these are interpreted as NHIs attempting to contact us.

However, there’s a massive epistemological cost that comes with interpreting all of these credible miracle accounts as the work of extraterrestrials. Consider that, if NHIs are intelligent enough to penetrate the deepest mathematical and scientific mysteries of the universe, not to mention the physical, psychological, and spiritual secrets of man himself, then surely they’re capable of (1) clearly communicating something to human beings, and (2) knowing how these humans and their descendants will understand these communications.

Given this, what does it mean to say that NHIs performed “signs and wonders” for both ancient and modern peoples in order to vindicate (in the Ufologist’s own worldview) a fundamentally flawed understanding of reality? It means that they’re deceivers.

The Ufologist is forced to admit that, within his own worldview, NHIs effectively “Truman Showed” generations of ancient peoples into accepting systematically false beliefs about history, religion, spirituality, anthropology, and even God. Worse yet, they made people submit to all of these falsehoods under the threat of physical death in the Old Testament, and eternal spiritual death in the New Testament. These NHIs then pushed the same “false” message about the truth of Christianity and the danger of eternal hellfire at the Fatima apparitions in 1917, using children as their instruments of deceit no less. This isn’t even to mention the other psycho-spiritual experiences that Ufologists attribute to NHIs that promote contradictory and (from their own perspective) dangerously false beliefs.

And come on. Devout Ufologists believe that NHIs have been deceiving human beings about the nature of reality for our entire existence, but now they’ve decided to tell the truth? To the most powerful and dangerous governments that have ever existed in human history? Really? If you believe that, I’ve got a bridge to sell you.

Ultimately, if the Ufologists are correct that there are superintelligent and quasi-omnipotent extraterrestrials who (1) are capable of manipulating the psychological and physical experiences of humans, and (2) have a proven history of fundamentally deceiving humans about the nature of reality, then they have shown the existence of Cartesian demons. But as noted above, the very notion of Cartesian demons is incoherent as it lands one in a skeptical scenario where he can’t even trust his own senses (including the senses that suggest to him that Cartesian demons exist). Therefore, if the UFO/UAP phenomenon is real, which I believe that it is, and if a good God truly governs the universe, which He does, then Ufologists have actually proven the existence of, not Cartesian demons, but just plain old demons.

The fact that devout Ufologists are ready to give their lives over to demons demonstrates that they are dangerous and need to be condemned in the strongest terms by Catholic authorities. Any Catholics who promote modern Ufology are (whether knowingly or not) likewise cooperating with demon worshipers. Stay vigilant.

From Byzantine Rite to Latin Rite

Ever since becoming a Christian, the traditional Roman Rite is something that I’ve been skeptical of. When I was first investigating the Catholic faith back in 2018, online communities were selling the Traditional Latin Mass (TLM) as the greatest, most beautiful thing I could ever experience. The promise seemed to be that if I attended the TLM even once, it would give me such a profound encounter with the divine that I wouldn’t desire anything else.

Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

The first TLM that I attended at St. John Cantius parish in Chicago left me feeling underwhelmed and confused. I was told that this liturgy was the greatest treasure of western civilization, but I couldn’t even follow or understand what was going on. As someone who embraced the maxim of Ss. Thomas and Augustine that “none can love what he does not know,”1 this lack of understanding (and lack of anyone making an effort to teach me) left me distressed; especially since I didn’t find my local Novus Ordo parish that spiritually edifying either (keep in mind: I was a socially awkward high school student at the time).

In truth, this inability to find a liturgical community that “connected” with me is what drove me to investigate Eastern Orthodoxy.

My first experience with the Byzantine Divine Liturgy (in Eastern Orthodoxy) stood in enormous contrast to my attempts at participating in the traditional Roman Mass. Not a minute after walking in the parish door I was warmly welcomed by that Orthodox community, given a service book to follow along with, and sat next to someone who showed me how to use it. Since there was little I had to “figure out” for myself, I could just sit back (well, stand up) and have a profound encounter with our Lord in the beauty of the Divine Liturgy. It was liturgical love at first sight.

After formally becoming Eastern Orthodox, I became an altar server and learned much about the details of the Byzantine rite. I not only learned how to serve (and sometimes chant at) the Divine Liturgy, but also Proskomedia (the service of preparing for the Divine Liturgy), Orthros (Byzantine Matins), and Vespers. I knew these parts of the Byzantine rite like the back of my hand and deeply loved them (and still do).

However, after my long and arduous journey from Eastern Orthodoxy to Catholicism,2 I made an intentional decision to join the Latin Church rather than the Melkite Church (the sui juris church which would have corresponded to my former Antiochian Orthodox jurisdiction). I did this for several reasons.

First, from the more practical side: I was brought into the Catholic Church through a Latin rite (reverent Novus Ordo) parish in Chicago, which has a wonderful pastor and community to which I wanted to belong. Moreover, given my desire to participate in Catholic young adults communities, I couldn’t avoid attending events at the numerous Latin rite parishes around me. Ultimately, it just wasn’t practical to regularly attend all of these Latin rite parishes while being canonically bound by the customs and disciplines of the Byzantine rite.

Second, I was tired of being “different.” As attractive as “being Byzantine” might sound to some westerners, it didn’t appeal to me anymore. I live in a western country that’s on the western liturgical calendar (the United States celebrates St. Valentine’s Day on February 14th, not July 6th), the majority of Catholics around me are Latin rite, and I myself am western, not eastern. Ever since I was a kid I had a desire to connect with my western/German heritage (to the point that I actually learned German at the B2 level, studying for a time at the Goethe Institut in Chicago, and a language school in Berlin), so I naturally had a desire to connect with the liturgical heritage of my ancestors as well.

Yet my desire to join the Latin rite went deeper still.

Upon formally reconciling with the Catholic Church, I was happy to embrace the Latin theological tradition. St. Thomas Aquinas was the one who first truly taught me about God back in high school, and even as an Eastern Orthodox Christian I looked to him and other Latin doctors (especially Ss. Augustine and Gregory) as reliable teachers. Prior to my conversion, many of my fellow Orthodox even viewed me as a “Latinizer” since I had deference to the Latin tradition on questions such as original sin, the validity of non-Orthodox sacraments, and the nature of ecclesiastical authority.3 Becoming Catholic thus freed me to fully accept the western theological tradition that I (begrudgingly) felt compelled to suppress in Eastern Orthodoxy.

Despite this, the Latin liturgical tradition, which informed the theology of these saints and doctors that I loved, remained at a distance. I did thoroughly enjoy listening to the choir of St. Patrick’s (western rite) Orthodox Church, but I nonetheless felt uncomfortable with any western liturgy that wasn’t “Byzantinized” as the western rites in Eastern Orthodoxy certainly are. This is what I sought to rectify by ensuring that I canonically joined the Latin Catholic Church.

Beginning to Understand the Roman Rite

The first time I received Holy Communion in the Catholic Church was at a reverent Novus Ordo Mass, vested in my cassock and surplice and kneeling near the high altar. It was a profound and heavenly experience.

During my first year in the Church, my pastor had me act in various roles as an altar server to familiarize myself with the general structure of the Latin rite Mass. It was very different from the Byzantine rite, and so it took several months before I actually understood the “sequence” of the Mass—the procession, censing of the altar, Kyrie, Gloria, readings, etc. Eventually, though, I got the hang of it.

Since my pastor had regularly celebrated the Tridentine Mass before it was “banned” in the Church of Chicago, he’s always made an effort to make his celebration of the Novus Ordo as close to the Tridentine as possible. We always celebrate Mass ad orientem at the high altar, use lots of incense, Latin, Gregorian chant or other forms of sacred music, and sometimes we even have a silent Roman Canon. Our use of lectors and “extraordinary ministers” (when the deacon isn’t present) is limited to altar servers who, if the diocese actually cared to do this, would accept minor orders that befit their respective roles. And it should go without saying that we use the altar rail for the faithful’s reception of Holy Communion (as well as patens), and the overwhelming majority of parishioners receive our Eucharistic Lord on the tongue.

I must admit that, at first, some of the “TLMisms” that were present at my new Catholic parish put me off. Having come from an Orthodox parish that strongly emphasized congregational singing and exterior participation, and having flirted with a Reformed Protestant sect that did the same, I just couldn’t get used to things like a sacred language, elaborate musical pieces, and inaudible prayers (although the Byzantine rite likewise has inaudible prayers, my former Orthodox priest always said them out loud). But that slowly began to change.

While not having my own “line” to say every fifteen seconds did initially irritate me, I started to see the wisdom behind it. Reflecting on many of my past liturgical experiences in both Eastern Orthodoxy and Reformed Protestantism, I realized that there were many services I attended during which I was “actively engaged” exteriorly, but not interiorly. It was similar to driving a route that you’ve driven a million times before. By the time you arrive at your destination, you don’t even remember having driven. There were numerous liturgies where this was the case. I’d get to the end of all my liturgical “lines” and realize that I couldn’t remember praying even once. Through my experience of the Roman rite, I began to see that as quite problematic.

However, I still wasn’t fully on board with the traditional Roman rite. Did everything have to be in a sacred language? Did there have to be that much silence? Did the musical pieces have to be that elaborate? These difficulties lingered, and to some extent they still do today—but not completely.

Discovering the Roman Breviary

The first step in quieting some of these concerns and deepening my love for the Roman rite was when my priest lent me the 1962 Roman Breviary. Some background is needed before the significance of this can be fully understood.

Upon becoming Catholic, one of my greatest difficulties with the Roman rite was the apparent absence of the Divine Office. Matins and Vespers were among my favorite services in the Byzantine rite, so where were they in the Latin rite? Thankfully, as I’ve explained before, I met a former seminarian (now religious novice) friend who informed me that the Office is alive and well, just not in most parishes. He taught me how to pray, and chant, the Liturgy of the Hours using the Mundelein Psalter, from which I still pray Lauds and Vespers everyday. I even lead the chanting of Lauds at my parish every Sunday, and Vespers after my Bible study on Thursdays.

It was only after becoming accustomed to the Liturgy of the Hours that I was introduced to the traditional Roman Breviary, and it was liturgical love at first sight. After reading Baronius Press’ incredibly detailed instructions on how to use the Breviary, and consulting DivinumOfficium.com whenever I got lost, the first traditional office I ever prayed was Matins for the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. From there I was hooked.

The first week or two I had the Breviary I’m pretty sure I prayed every single office every single day (even Matins). Of course, I eventually got burnt out, and I managed to dial it back to consistently praying Prime and Compline, as well as any Little Hours I happened to have time for. But getting hit with the full force of the traditional Roman Breviary left a lasting impression on me.

I realized just how much was missing from the modern Liturgy of the Hours. For example, I saw that there were more memorizable Versicle and Response lines than just the Deus in adiutorium. There’s also the Domine, exaudi orationem meam, Benedicamus Domino, Exsurge Christe, adiuva nos, Pretiosa in conspectu Domini, Adiutorium nostrum in nomine Domine, etc. There’s also a profound beauty to ending (almost) every office with a prayer for the faithful departed, Fidelium animae, per misericordiam Dei, requiescant in pace. And, come on, there’s nothing so beautiful as chanting the Fratres: Sobrii estote, et vigilate, at the beginning of Compline.

Careful readers might further notice that most of the lines I mentioned can be found in the office of Prime, which was sadly removed from the modern Liturgy of the Hours. Incorporating Prime into my prayer life enabled me to see how it complements Lauds in the same way that Compline pairs with Vespers. While our evening worship ends with contemplating/preparing for our own deaths (the examination of conscience), our morning worship begins by meditating on the holy deaths of the martyrs (the Roman Martyrology).

I also just can’t get over how beautiful the prayers in the office of Prime are: Respice in servos tuos, Domine… Et sit splendor Domini Dei nostri super nos, Dirigere et sanctificare, regere et gubernare dignare, Domine Deus, Rex cæli et terræ, etc. I’m truly sad on the days I don’t get around to praying Prime.

Moreover, I can personally attest that a one-week liturgical cycle is much better for actually interiorizing the Psalter. Although I’ve been praying the Liturgy of the Hours for longer than the Roman Breviary, I’ve memorized far more from the latter than the former. And I don’t just mean “memorize” in the sense of being able to recite the words from memory (which I can’t always do). The Roman Breviary has allowed the whole ethos of the Psalter (imprecatory psalms and all) to enter into my soul in a way that the Liturgy of the Hours didn’t completely. Between the Breviary’s repetition and lack of white-washing, I’m able to understand the “psychology” of our Lord’s Passion in ways that I never have before.

This likewise applies to the more consistent readings in the traditional offices—they’re much easier to memorize and therefore contemplate since you run into them so frequently. Modern man, with his short attention span, simply isn’t made for the four-week Psalter. He needs (or at least I need) consistent repetition and reinforcement in order for things to stick, which the Roman Breviary provides.

At this point you may be able to tell that, the more I prayed the Breviary, the more I also caught myself glancing over at the left side of the Latin-English text. I eventually resolved to pray the Invitatory in Latin everyday, as well as most of the ordinaries for Prime and Compline. Most soon became all, and I quickly found myself praying all of the psalms in Latin as well. I got to the point where I desired to actually learn Latin, and so I’ve been working with a private Latin tutor for a couple of months now. There’s something unspeakably profound about praising Jesus Christ in the very language that was used to condemn Him (cf. Jn 18:33-38; 19:19-20). More will be said about sacred languages below.

I was particularly struck by the beauty of the Roman Breviary this past Lent. The Laus tibi Domine beginning even before Lent, the omission of the Gloria Patri during Passiontide, the abrupt ending of many offices (where it’s instructed that everyone “departs in silence,” rather than doing the concluding prayers), the specific instruction not to light candles, and not to sing—I realized that the Roman rite’s “liturgical fasting” went beyond just omitting the alleluia, and I loved it!

This culminated for me on Spy Wednesday when my parish celebrated traditional Matins and Lauds for the service of Tenebrae. Since I actually knew how to use my Breviary at that point, I could follow the service with ease and enter deeply into all of the readings (which were chanted in Latin). I had been praying the Miserere, Psalm 50, in Latin everyday for all of Lent in preparation for this service (I’ve also prayed it in English almost everyday for the past seven years as part of my prayer rule). So when it finally came time for our choir to sing Gregorio Allegri’s Miserere during the climax of Tenebrae, its impact on me was indescribable.

That one service shed further light on three aspects of traditional Latin liturgy that previously alluded me: the importance of (1) sacred language, (2) ornate music, and (3) mystery. Allegri’s Miserere simply wouldn’t be what it is if it didn’t combine these three principles. Nor would my experience of it have been the same if I hadn’t spent so much time immersing myself in the world of Psalm 50, in both its English and Latin renditions. Tenebrae really was the cherry on top of my slow process of cultivating love for the traditional Roman rite.

Learning the History of the Roman Rite

It should come as no surprise that, as I began to see the unique beauty of the traditional Roman Breviary, I likewise sensed that such beauty was present in the traditional Roman Mass (the Tridentine Mass). As someone who was initially frustrated with the TLM because I didn’t know anything about it, I figured the best way to fall in love with it was to actually do some research. So I picked up three books: Treasure and Tradition by Lisa Bergman, Turned Around by , and The Traditional Mass by Michael Fiedrowicz.

As someone who loves church history, I was particularly fond of Fiedrowicz’s documentation of the history of the Roman Mass. My readers will know how much time I’ve spent studying the theology of the late antique/early medieval Roman Church, and so I was delighted to see names such as Popes St. Leo the Great, St. Gregory the Great, Vigilius, Honorius, and Hadrian in contexts other than what they had to say about/do with the papal dogmas.

One of the first things I learned from Fiedrowicz is that what we know today as “the Roman rite” was originally true to its name: the rite celebrated in the diocese of Rome. More specifically, it was the rite celebrated by the Roman pontiff himself in his own church of the Lateran (and later his “stational” churches). Thus, individual bishops of Rome could and did make lasting contributions to the Roman rite.

I found out this was true of Pope St. Leo the Great (d. 461), who likely added his own wording to several liturgical prayers; Pope St. Gelasius (d. 496), who imported the Kyrie litany from the oriental liturgical model; even popes like Vigilius and Honorius were reigning when important liturgical texts developed; and of course, Pope St. Gregory the Great (d. 604) not only wrote several prayers that are still in use by the 1962 Missale Romanum, but also gave both the Roman Canon and the Ordo Missae their traditional forms. Gregory is likewise the one who put the Pater Noster where it is in the Mass, at the conclusion of the Canon (and he’s also the one had the priest alone pray most of it). As Fiedrowicz notes, “In this respect, the classical celebration of the Mass can be rightfully referred to as the Rite of St. Gregory.”4

The fact that the traditional Roman rite is intimately connected to many of my papal heroes from antiquity strongly increased my love for the TLM. But that wasn’t the only historical reason that deepened my affinity for the traditional rite. Something else I learned is that the Roman rite isn’t just tied to individual popes, but rather it, in a sense, is the living memory of the West’s broader liturgical history as well.

Fiedrowicz explains that among the liturgical rites of powerful cities, the Roman rite was originally unique in that it didn’t replace other local rites: “The Patriarchs of the East significantly formed the liturgy of their areas of influence; in contrast, although the bishop of Rome was indeed the patriarch of the Occident, the greater part of the Latin Church of the West did not initially follow the Roman rite, but rather the various forms of the so-called Gallican rites.” As a consequence, the gradual adoption of the Roman rite by the West was “due less to the initiative of the popes than to that of the bishops or rulers of other regions, who sought to align themselves with the liturgical customs” of Rome.5

My favorite example of this was Charlemange’s reception of the Roman rite from Pope Hadrian. Already by the seventh century, travelers from other western lands to Rome had increased the fame and prestige of the papal liturgy. So much so that by Charlemange’s time, he was intent on standardizing and “Romanizing” the (chaotically) diverse Gallican liturgies of his kingdom. This caused him to ask Pope Hadrian for an authentic copy of the Gregorian Sacramentary, which reached Charlemange around the year 785 under the name Hadrianum. This sacramentary helped form Charlemange’s palace liturgy, which in turn influenced the entire project of the Carolingian liturgical reform. This is why you had 9th century Frankish churches commemorating Roman martyrs they had never heard of, and even the Roman stational churches!6

However, liturgical influence didn’t just go one way.

Unlike the Romans, the Franks were very sensible in their devotion. To the Roman rite they therefore added, among other things, more incensations of the altar, the solemn proclamation of the Gospel with a procession, incense, candles, and acclamation, and the kissing of the evangelistary as well as the concluding kiss of the altar with its accompanying prayer. They filled many of the celebrant’s “silent gaps” with silent prayers, e.g. during vesting, the entrance, the kissing of the altar, the incensing, etc. Even the Roman Canon, which was already silent by this time, was embellished with many gestures, bows, and signs of the Cross.

Solemn liturgical actions that we take for granted today—the Palm Sunday procession, the washing of the feet on Holy Thursday, the adoration of the Cross on Good Friday, the blessing of fire, and the Paschal candle—were likewise the result of the Roman rite’s presence in Frankish lands. In Fiedrowicz’s words, all of these were among the “new, concrete, and moving ceremonies with which Celtic and Germanic clergy, who served within the Carolingian kingdom, had enriched the formerly unemotional and rather laconic Roman rite.”7

I was delighted to learn that many of the exterior “staples” of the traditional Roman rite didn’t actually originate with the Roman rite itself, but rather came from other ancient western liturgical traditions. It was largely thanks to the Hohenstaufen monarchs Otto I and Otto II, who donated liturgical books to Rome that were “artistically rendered in the scriptorums north of the Alps,”8 that the Roman rite received these Frankish-Germanic enrichments back into its own city of origin. That was quite striking to learn as someone with Germanic ancestry!

The development of the Roman rite thus reminded me of the movement of the gospel throughout the book of Acts. The gospel is first proclaimed in Jerusalem (Acts 2-10), moves out towards Samaria (Acts 8) and other Gentile lands (Acts 11-13), and then circles back to Jerusalem in Acts 15. The gospel then goes out towards the Gentles again (Acts 16-20), only to come back to Jerusalem in Acts 21. The fact that Acts ends with St. Paul in Rome (Acts 28) implies that the gospel would eventually circle back to Jerusalem one more time. This indeed happened after the emperor of the Romans, St. Constantine, converted to Christianity and sent his mother Queen St. Helena back to Jerusalem to retrieve relics from our Lord’s homeland.

Just as the gospel started in Judea, was enriched by the Gentile harvest, and then came back to bless the Church of Jerusalem (note: this process is a foreshadow of the eventual conversion of the whole Jewish people to the faith), so too did the Roman rite start in Rome, get enriched by the “more Gentile” Frankish and Germanic peoples, and then circle back to bless the Roman Church.

Fiedrowicz describes this process beautifully: “In unexpected ways, Rome retrieved the liturgical treasure that had initially been bequeathed to the Gallo-Frankish peoples, then to the other Germans.”9 Of course, not everything the Franks and Germans added to the liturgy was accepted in Rome. Some of the prayers weren’t “temperate” or “sober” enough for the “Roman spirit,” and so they were either omitted or shortened: “Thus, the prayers at the foot of the altar were adopted almost in full, the prayers accompanying the Offertory partially, while from the multiple private ‘apologia prayers’ of the celebrant, originating from the penitential spirit of monasticism, only the Suscipe, sancta Trinitas remained.”10

However, the point remains that, by late antiquity, the Roman rite represented more than just the liturgical customs of the bishop of Rome. It likewise contained within itself a “liturgical memory” of many ancient western churches. I thought that was really cool, and it once again deepened my admiration for the traditional rite.

Naturally, the “Gregorian reform” under Pope St. Gregory VII (d. 1085) sought to standardize the Roman rite throughout the West, particularly in those regions that had their own rites (e.g. Milan and Toledo). Yet the ones who were the most successful at actually doing this appear to have been the Franciscans. This is because it was under Pope Honorius III (d. 1227), the pontiff who confirmed both the Dominican and Franciscan orders, that the Papal Curia received their own Missal for the Roman rite, specially designed to accommodate the frequent travels of the Curia (e.g. shortening prayers, simplifying ceremonial actions, and so forth).

In homage to the pontiff who confirmed their order, as well as to have a standard form of worship while traveling in regions that had an “uncontrollable variety of [local] liturgical customs,” the Franciscan Order decided “to obligate their own friars to the usus Romanae curiae.”11 To this end, the Franciscans’ Minister General revised the Roman Curia’s Order of the Mass by producing a new Missal in 1243, which was subsequently spread throughout the Occident by traveling Franciscans.12

This Franciscan Missal is what laid much of the groundwork for the Roman Curia’s Missal of 1474, which itself set the stage for the Missale Romanum of 1570 that would be promulgated following the Council of Trent. And it is this very “Tridentine Mass” that remains (with minor changes) what we know today as the TLM. Much more could be said about the history of the Roman rite, but I’ll leave it there for now as this article isn’t meant to be an exhaustive exposition of such history.

The point is this—learning about the history of the traditional Roman rite caused me to fall more in love with it, not because of some fantastical story that sees the TLM as completely unchanged since apostolic times or something like that (a fantasy that I’ve never seen informed traditionalists present), but rather because of what it actually is: the authentic liturgical heritage of Western Christendom. Fiedrowicz summarized this better than I could:

Just as virtually every part of St. Mark’s Basilica in Venice from the floor to the roof was added in one century or another from various foreign countries, the Christian liturgy was formed from the treasures of Jerusalem, Rome, and Byzantium. Bricks from various cultural groups and time periods were brought together and used for its construction. Elements from the Jewish synagogue service (readings), the ancient Roman style of prayer (Canon), oriental Christianity (Kyrie eleison), monastic spirituality (silent prayers), and others converged here. As elements from diverse origins were assumed into the Roman Mass, its form attained its unique universality.

The traditional Mass in the Roman rite is an ancient building, stamped with many centuries and styles, often amended and further embellished, sometimes restored here and there, a building in which one can trace, part by part, the century of its origin, but only in the rarest of cases identify the artist who designed this or that element and added it to the whole. In contrast to modern architecture, where the name of the architect is permanently connected with the buildings he constructed, the creators of the great cathedrals of the Middle Ages remain mostly anonymous. They completely withdraw behind the works they created. In a similar way, the traditional Mass has no author; one can hardly ever say who created a particular prayer or introduced a certain ceremony. It is precisely in this anonymity that the greatness of the traditional Mass lies: “Since Holy Mass had no author.., everyone was free to believe and feel that it was something eternal, not made by human hands.”

Michael Fiedrowicz, The Traditional Mass, p. 63.

Dispelling My Hesitations

Despite cultivating this love for the traditional Roman rite, some interior hesitations remained as a result of the years I spent outside of the Catholic Church.

For example, prior to becoming Catholic I would often hear traditionalists argue that, because the multiplicity of languages was a originally a curse that was imposed following the Tower of Babel incident (cf. Gen 11), the “reversal” of this curse is the universal Church only having one language—Latin. I thought that this was a terrible, theologically uninformed argument (and still do).

For one, the universal Church doesn’t just have one sacred language, but rather numerous—Latin, Koine Greek, Slavonic, Aramaic, etc. This is to reflect the true reversal of the Babel incident, Pentecost, during which the world didn’t return to a single language, but rather experienced a blessing on the multitude of languages (cf. Acts 2:6). In fact, if one reads the Babel story in context, it can be deduced that the existence of many languages wasn’t supposed to be a curse at all.

God told Noah and his descendants, “be fruitful and multiply, increase greatly on the earth and multiply in it” (Gen 9:7), which is exactly what they didn’t do by gathering together on the plains of Shinar. God wanted the human family to spread over the face of the earth, multiply, and diversify. He wanted mankind to have a multiplicity of nations, cultures, and languages. Man didn’t listen, and so God had to accomplish this Himself. Whence the “curse” of Babel.

This is why, in Genesis 11:7, God says, “Come, let us go down and there confuse their language.” When was the last time the Lord spoke like this? “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness… in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them” (Gen 1:26-27). God first invoked His own inner distinction (“us,” “our”) when making man in His image—one mankind in two distinct genders. He did likewise when creating distinct languages and cultures within the one human family. The diversity of languages, then, far from being a mere curse, is a creative expression of God’s own intra-Trinitarian life.

This is a reality that some traditionalist arguments for the use of liturgical Latin seemed to undercut. When joined to their general lack of engagement with texts such as 1 Corinthians 14:14-19, wherein St. Paul really seems to emphasize the importance of intellectual understanding in worship (e.g., “how can anyone in the position of an outsider say ‘Amen’ to your thanksgiving when he does not know what you are saying?”), it makes sense why I had so much hesitation when it came to accepting Latin as my language of prayer. This same line of reasoning also created difficulties for my acceptance of silent prayers in the TLM.

So how did I dispel these hesitations?

I started by reading Peter Kwasniewski’s treatment of “the curse of Babel” in his book, Turned Around. He states that, “Even if the rich poetic fruits of multiple languages can be counted a blessing willed by God, the difficulty and often impossibility of common discourse among rational animals is unquestionably a curse.”13 Fair enough. I don’t deny that the Babel story indeed highlights the “confusion” that multiple languages creates for sinful humanity.

Kwasniewski then notes that uniting around one sacred language was by no means unique to the Christian West: “every ancient Christian church developed a sacral language and idiom for worship: the Greek Orthodox Church still uses koine Greek, the Russians use Church Slavonic, the Ethiopians use Ge’ez, the Copts use literary Coptic, etc.”14 He strikingly adds that, in this way, every apostolic Church has enacted “a symbolic return to the prelapsarian condition of the Garden of Eden, when human beings would have spoken only one language.”15

This helped me see that there is, in fact, a way to salvage the traditionalist argument that I scoffed at above. Lovers of the TLM truly can view the multiplicity of languages as a “Pentecostal” blessing from God, one that the Church exemplifies by having a plurality of liturgical rites. However, within any given rite, the Edenic ideal of one unifying “sacred language” may be upheld. Through this important nuance, I came to see that the “curse of Babel” argument for the use of a sacred language can be maintained.

Another traditionalist argument at which I used to scoff, which Kwasniewski helpfully nuanced, relates to the threefold inscription over our Lord’s Cross. I thought this was quite profound and therefore worth mentioning:

The Eastern Christian sphere has always seen far more linguistic diversity than the Western sphere, which remained stalwartly committed to Latin for over 1,600 years—a longer time with a single language for worship than can be found in any other religious tradition except for the use of Hebrew by the Jews and the use of Greek by the Greek Orthodox. It is hardly surprising that a belief grew up that the three great sacred languages are Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, on the basis of the threefold inscription that Pontius Pilate placed on the Cross of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Peter Kwasniewski, Turned Around, p. 205 [Kindle ed.].

From here, Kwasniewski quotes Fiedrowicz who further documents how this phenomenon of “sacred language” isn’t limited to Latin Catholicism:

The phenomenon of a sacred language is found in all religions. Such a language was used by the Greek oracles of ancient times and can be found in ancient Roman pagan prayers, whose formulas date back to distant antiquity, occasionally having become unintelligible even to the priest himself, though still used in order to remain true to ancestral tradition. At the time of Christ, the Jews used the language of Old Hebraic for their services, though it was incomprehensible to the people. In the synagogues, only the readings and a few prayers relating to them were written in the mother tongue of Aramaic; the great, established prayer texts were recited in Hebrew. Although Christ adamantly attacked the formalism of the Pharisees in other respects, He never questioned this practice. Insofar as the Passover Meal was primarily celebrated with Hebrew prayers, the Last Supper was also characterized by elements of a sacred language. It is therefore possible that Christ spoke the words of Eucharistic consecration in the Hebrew lingua sacra. Other world religions also recognize sacred languages that differ from everyday idioms. The Muslims use classical Arabic for their prayers. The Buddhists employ Pali, and the Hindus Sanskrit.

Even within Christianity various dedicated languages of worship have developed. Thus the Orthodox Greeks celebrate their liturgy in ancient Greek and the Russians in Church Slavonic. In addition, there is the use of Armenian, Coptic, and Syrian. Though originally these were certainly the living, vernacular language, over the course of time they grew ever more distant from everyday speech and finally assumed the character of a proper language of worship. Even Anglican services use the melodious Elizabethan English found in the Book of Common Prayer.

Michael Fiedrowicz, The Traditional Mass, pp. 153-4.

Through Kwasniewski and Fiedrowicz, I realized that man can’t help but create sacred languages with which he relates to the divine. Even in their very attempt to shake off the “Romish” concept of sacred language, the descendants of the Reformation ended up creating their own versions of it in the form of retaining Luther’s German or Elizabethan English in worship!

The fact that sacred languages have developed across all times, cultures, and religions, including our Lord’s own (i.e. first century Judean Judaism), points to this being an organic outflow of human nature itself. Indeed, that our Lord was undoubtedly familiar with the concept of sacred language, and yet never condemned it (despite condemning other manmade religious customs of His day), proves that it’s not a corruption of the virtue of religion, but rather a beautiful expression of it.

This new understanding is ultimately what freed me to embrace liturgical Latin in my own praying of the Roman Breviary, as explained above. However, difficulties yet remained.

I still found myself uncomfortable with the way that some traditionalists would downplay the importance of comprehension in prayer. For example, Kwasniewski writes, “when we consider [liturgical prayer] as a prayer of the Church presented to Almighty God, we can confidently say that its principal purpose is not human comprehension—as if the goal of the uttering of the prayer is the grasping of it by either the reciter or the audience—but rather, the humble and efficacious supplication of God.”16 I struggled to see how this fit with the teaching of St. Paul, who expressly says, “in church I would rather speak five words with my mind in order to instruct others, than ten thousand words in a tongue” (1 Cor 14:19).

Some might argue that 1 Corinthians 14 was dealing with the uniquely first century phenomenon of “speaking in tongues” and so we can’t derive any general principles of worship from it. But this counterargument never compelled me. That’s the exact same reasoning liberals use to dismiss another passage in this same chapter: “the women should keep silent in the churches. For they are not permitted to speak, but should be in submission… For it is shameful for a woman to speak in church” (1 Cor 14:34-35). Surely, traditionalists can see the flaw with an “appeal to historical context” being used to dismiss otherwise clear liturgical implications.

That said, as someone who firmly believes in the Holy Spirit’s protection and guidance of the Church’s worship, I decided to bear with this tension, even if I didn’t have an immediately satisfactory answer. I trusted that the Lord would help me understand in due time—and that He did.

I won’t pretend to have a comprehensive understanding of the “tongues” phenomenon that occurred in the first century, but here’s what I can say with some confidence. There’s a big difference between a spontaneous message/prayer that’s received by one or two people from the Holy Spirit, versus a formal set of liturgical prayers that remains (relatively) unchanged from year to year, or even week to week.

In the former case, without an interpreter right then and there, the message will be lost and therefore (mostly) useless. Full stop. In the latter case, however, due to the repetition of the prayers, and the fact that they’re in a language that can be studied and learned, there’s no urgency to immediately comprehend every word being prayed.

Kwasniewski helped me understand that this concept of “delayed comprehension” in connection with sacred mysteries of the faith isn’t as foreign to Sacred Scripture as some would like to pretend:

In the Gospels, we see several instances of incomprehension, where Our Lord does not say, ‘Okay, let’s break down into synodal discussion groups and get to the bottom of this. Voting will follow, then a post-synodal dominical exhortation.’ He lets His companions stew in their lack of understanding because they still need to grow, and they need the challenge of not getting it. Mary and Joseph didn’t understand the words He was saying; His Apostles didn’t understand, either. Jesus often did things without explaining why, as when He sent His Apostles across the lake without Him, knowing He would later walk across it and scare the living daylights out of them; or when He slept in the hull during the big storm; or when He escaped to go into remote places to pray, in spite of the crowds clamoring for more sermons. Scripture tells us that many of the most important things Jesus said were understood by His disciples only after the Resurrection or after Pentecost.

Peter Kwasniewski, Turned Around, pp. 233-4 [Kindle ed.].

The apostles were famously confused by the teachings of Christ both before His passion (cf. Mk 4:10-13; 6:51-52; Lk 18:31-34; Jn 16:17-18), and after His resurrection (cf. Acts 1:6; 10:17). Not even our Blessed Mother, the perfect disciple of Jesus Christ, immediately understood everything He said (cf. Lk 2:50). Far from detracting from our Lady’s perfect discipleship, her lack of understanding empowered her to “treasur[e] up all these things in her heart” (Lk 2:51), which the apostles likewise did (cf. Jn 2:19-22), and which we’re called to imitate.

Just consider Sacred Scripture itself. Regardless of which language you read Scripture in, much of its content is mysterious, cryptic, and even confusing. I don’t care how linguistically gifted you are, if you haven’t spent years immersing yourself in the world of biblical symbolism, you will not understand books like Revelation.

Indeed, God’s Word more often speaks in the “sacred” language of symbols, types, rituals, festivals, and sacrifices, than the “vernacular” categories of systematic theology. Scripture forces its reader to sit with the text, study it, meditate on it, and pray with it, in order to fully grasp its meaning. St. Augustine described this phenomenon well:

Some of the expressions [in Scripture] are so obscure as to shroud the meaning in the thickest darkness. And I do not doubt that all this was divinely arranged for the purpose of subduing pride by toil, and of preventing a feeling of satiety in the intellect, which generally holds in small esteem what is discovered without difficulty… Nobody, however, has any doubt about the facts, both that it is pleasanter in some cases to have knowledge communicated through figures, and that what is attended with difficulty in the seeking gives greater pleasure in the finding. For those who seek but do not find suffer from hunger. Those, again, who do not seek at all because they have what they require just beside them often grow languid from satiety. Now weakness from either of these causes is to be avoided. Accordingly the Holy Spirit has, with admirable wisdom and care for our welfare, so arranged the Holy Scriptures as by the plainer passages to satisfy our hunger, and by the more obscure to stimulate our appetite.

St. Augustine, On Christian Doctrine, Book II, Chapter 6.

If we immediately grasped everything in Sacred Scripture, then we wouldn’t approach it with reverence, awe and wonder. We wouldn’t have the “pleasure” of “seeking” the Lord “with difficulty.” We wouldn’t have anything “obscure to stimulate our appetite” for mystery. Simply put, we wouldn’t be able to follow the wisdom of Proverbs 25:2, “It is the glory of God to conceal a matter, it is the glory of kings to search it out.”

In our worship of God, we likewise need to satisfy both our “hunger” for comprehension and our “appetite” for mystery. I can personally attest that praying, singing, and worshiping in a sacred language is incredibly well suited for the latter. Whenever the Gloria is sung in Latin at my parish, for example, even though it’s the same content as the English version, I often find myself “getting more” out of it, or being able to enter deeper into it. I know the words and their meaning well enough—the hunger of the intellect is satisfied—that my soul begins to crave more, something that can take even a well known hymn and shroud it in sacred mystery. Gloria in excelsis Deo… just hits different than, Glory to God in the highest…

The traditional Roman rite is not anti-comprehension. As Kwasniewski quotes Joseph Shaw, “Neither the inaudibility nor the use of Latin in practice creates a barrier of understanding between the worshipper and the liturgy, since members of the congregation can consult a hand missal, printout, or smartphone, to see exactly what is being said, translated into a wide variety of languages. What it does do is to mark off the liturgy as something special and distinct from ordinary life.”17

Fiedrowicz further points out that the danger with an exclusive use of the vernacular in worship is that it “counterfeits an understanding that is absolutely not real.”18 Since the 1960s, how many Catholics have consistently heard the words of the Mass in their own languages? And yet, would anyone say that those who were enculturated into 1960s Catholicism had a privileged “comprehension” of Holy Mass that wasn’t shared by their forebearers? I doubt it.

Sadly, I’m quite sure that there are many “boomer Catholics” who think that they understand the Mass because they’ve heard the words a million times, but really don’t know the first thing about it. To be sure, attributing this solely to the use of the vernacular in the Novus Ordo would be naive. But to pretend that it played no role? Equally naive, in my opinion at least.

“A language that is not commonly understood suggests to the faithful that they stand before a mystery that eludes total transparency.”19 In an age where anything “mysterious” can (at least appear to) be dispelled by a Google search or an AI inquiry, how much more do we need to be taught that the Holy Mysteries of our faith cannot be exhausted by our intellects? In an age where you can casually pull up the most sacred texts of our faith on a device that’s equally capable of pulling up illicit adult content, how much more do we need to separate our sacred rites from this vulgar world? Using a sacred language in worship is a good place to start.

Perhaps unlike some traditionalists (note: I do not identify as a “traditionalist”), I do believe that the liturgical reforms following Vatican II have produced some good. For instance, prior to Vatican II, how many attendees of the TLM had Missals that they could use to actually follow the service? How common was it for parishes to encourage the faithful to learn about and enter deeply into the beauty of all the words, symbols, and gestures? I’m not entirely sure, but it definitely seems like there wasn’t as much enthusiasm for the TLM among the lay faithful as there is now.

In an unexpected way, then, Vatican II appears to have successfully rekindled the laity’s desire to “actively participate” in the TLM. The only mistake appears to have been thinking that we needed a new liturgical rite to achieve this end.

Conclusion

So much more could be said about why I’ve begun to fall in love with the traditional Roman rite, but I feel that this article is long enough. I must note that I don’t regularly attend the TLM, and I still do regularly pray sections of the Liturgy of the Hours, and so the purpose of this article isn’t to proselytize for traditionalist communities or anything like that.

Rather, in an age where we see many Latin Catholics seeking refuge in various non-Latin liturgical rites, I thought that my experience of going the opposite direction could be useful to share. The traditional Latin rite has an incredibly rich history, theology, and spirituality. My purpose in writing the present article was simply to document my own encounter this profound beauty, as well as to encourage others to seek it out for themselves.

To that end, I highly encourage my readers to not only check out the resources I’ve mentioned above, but also to start encountering the traditional rite in their own prayer lives—by attending a TLM, praying a traditional office, etc.

As I’ve emphasized throughout this article, my knowledge of and love for the traditional rite has only just begun. I know that I’ve still got a long way to go, and our Lord will lead me. Thanks for reading.

The Catholic Church dedicates the month of May to the Blessed Virgin Mary. One of the beautiful traditions that comes out of this is the annual “crowning” of our Lady’s statue with flowers. This is where members of the congregation, usually children, gather around our Lady’s statue and place a crown of flowers on her head, symbolizing the new Life that she brought into the world for our salvation.

Understandably, this practice makes some folks uncomfortable because it appears similar to pagan customs that involve adorning idols with symbols of nature, especially in the Springtime. However, there’s nothing intrinsically pagan about honoring someone we love with flowers. For example, would it be idolatrous to place a bouquet of flowers before the image of a deceased loved one at their funeral? Or at their grave for that matter? I would think not.

In Matthew 23:29, our Lord speaks of the Pharisees who “build the tombs of the prophets and adorn (kosmeó) the monuments of the righteous,” yet hypocritically condemn living righteous men like St. John the Baptist and the Lord Jesus. Although our Lord was condemning the Pharisees, it clearly wasn’t because they were adorning the graves and monuments of the saints, rather it was because they were doing this pious outward act without interiorizing it.

This runs parallel to the Pharisees “tith[ing] mint and dill and cumin” while “neglect[ing] the weightier matters of the law” (Matt 23:23). Tithing is a good thing, something that Jesus explicitly says we shouldn’t neglect (Matt 23:24), however, it can’t make up for a disordered soul. Likewise, Jesus’ point in Matthew 23:29 is that adorning the graves and monuments of the saints is a good and holy thing, just one that can’t replace an authentic spiritual life.

As long as we don’t adorn the monuments of our Blessed Mother in vain, i.e. without a real desire to imitate her virtues, not only is there no sin in giving her statue a crown of flowers, but this practice can be a genuine expression of love for our Lord’s Mother. Personally, I can attest to the spiritual profundity of this tradition. Near my house there’s a Catholic family that has a statue of our Lady in their front yard, and every May they observe the tradition and place a crown of flowers on her head. Even before I was Catholic, whenever I passed by the crowned statue on my Springtime walks it really did remind me of our Lady’s Queenship over the Universe, and it always encouraged me to “take refuge under her compassion” in that moment.

Furthermore, there’s great scriptural warrant for associating our Lady with the symbols of nature, especially during Springtime. This is because, as Seraphim Hamilton explains, the earth’s feminine and motherly identity goes back to Genesis.

Genesis 2:4 begins by introducing “the generations of the heavens and the earth,” and then describing the creation of Adam and his wife. That term “generations,” toledoth, is used ten times in Genesis, always in connection with a particular man’s genealogical history. Peter Leithart documents how there’s a consistent alteration between genealogical “narratives” and literal genealogies throughout Genesis:

1. Heaven and Earth (Genesis 2:4) — narrative

2. Adam (Genesis 5:1) — genealogy

3. Noah (Genesis 6:9) — short genealogy + medium-length narrative

4. Noah’s sons (Genesis 10:1) — long genealogy + short narrative

5. Shem (Genesis 11:10) — genealogy

6. Terah (Genesis 11:27) — short genealogy + long narrative

7. Ishmael (Genesis 25:12) — genealogy

8. Isaac (Genesis 25:19) — narrative

9. Esau (Genesis 36:1, also 36:9) — genealogy

10. Jacob (Genesis 37:2) — narrative

You’ll notice that one of these toledoth’s is not like the others… unless it actually is. Just as “the generations of Jacob” and “the generations of Noah” describe the literal and narrative histories of those men, so too with the phrase, “the generations of the heavens and the earth.” Adam is the generation, i.e. offspring, of the Spirit of heaven and the dust of the earth (Gen 2:7). He is the beginning of the generations of heaven and earth, the beginning of mankind.

This implicitly reveals the earth’s feminine identity. Just as a man, as it were, overshadows his bride in order to produce new life, so too does the divine Spirit “hover over the face” of the earth in order to fill creation with life (cf. Gen 1:2). The earth is thereby revealed as the feminine recipient of the Spirit’s life-creating acts throughout Creation Week. This obviously climaxes when God “breathed into [man’s] nostrils the Spirit of life, and the man became a living creature” (Gen 2:7).

It comes as no surprise, then, that when echoing the words of Genesis 3:19, “you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” the righteous Job said, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return” (Job 1:21). The “dust” from which man was originally formed, and to which he will return, is the feminine earth. The earth is, in this way, truly the “mother” of man, who himself is “the generations,” the offspring, the child “of the heavens and the earth.”

This depiction of “mother earth” is further explored in Psalm 139:13-15, which seamlessly passes between affirming that God “knitted me together in my mother’s womb” and that He “made [me] in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth.” The book of Sirach likewise declares that the children of Adam “leave their mother’s womb until the day they return to the mother of all the living” (Sir 40:1).

That line from Sirach is particularly significant since it not only points to the feminine identity of the earth, but also the earth’s connection with “the mother of all the living,” i.e. our first mother Eve. Naturally, all of these themes culminate in the New Testament’s portrayal of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the new Eve. Just as, in the beginning, the Spirit overshadowed the feminine earth to bring forth the first Adam, so too, in these latter days, He overshadowed the Holy Virgin to bring forth the last Adam (Lk 1:35).

Consider that, in Romans 11:5, the Apostle Paul refers to a holy “remnant” of faithful Jews who existed at the time of Jesus in fulfillment of Scripture. The prophet Isaiah had also spoken about this remnant that would exist during the time of the Messiah (Isa 10:20-21), and he described Israel’s history as one of God “continually” beating and plowing “the ground,” purifying it in order to produce this remnant (Is 28:23-29).

It’s thus no surprise that Isaiah refers to the Messiah as “a shoot” who “shall come forth from the stump of Jesse” (Is 11:1). That is, the Messiah would blossom forth like a plant from the pure ground of Israel’s remnant. This makes sense of why it was Isaiah who affirmed that the Mother of the Messiah would be an undefiled Virgin (Isa 7:14), the true untouched ground from which Messiah would blossom.

With this in mind, we can better understand why St. Luke’s Gospel opens by focusing on the families of the Virgin Mary and St. John the Baptist: these were the members of Israel’s holy remnant. God’s project of gradually purifying Israel from all stains of sin culminated in the Immaculate Conception and birth of the Blessed Virgin Mary, who would finally be the holy “stump of Jesse” from whom the Messianic “shoot” could spring forth. Mary was and is the fertile and undefiled “earth” that, by the Spirit, has brought Life into the world.

It’s therefore perfectly reasonable to say that all of the feminine imagery that Scripture imputes to nature finds its fulfillment in the Blessed Virgin Mary. This makes it supremely fitting to dedicate the month of May, a time demarcated by the Springtime emergence of new life in nature, to our Blessed Lady.

O Mary! we crown thee with blossoms today,

Queen of the Angels, Queen of the May,

O Mary! we crown thee with blossoms today,

Queen of the Angels, Queen of the May.

I have thoroughly enjoyed ’s arguments in defense of the miracles performed by our Lady of Fatima,1 particularly in dialogue with Protestant critics.2

One avenue concerning “vindicatory miracles” that doesn’t seem as explored in this discussion is how these miracles show up in the Old Testament (or maybe that has been discussed and I’ve just missed it, I admittedly do not keep up on all of the discourse).

In order to reject the miracles of Fatima, the Protestant has to argue that the primary grounds for judging a miracle is its consistency with prior revelation. Since the Protestant denies certain Catholic teachings on our Lady, the nature of penance, etc., Fatima “must” be demonic since it endorses these teachings. From there, the debate ceases to be about the miracle itself, and instead about the content that the miracle is attempting to vindicate (at which point the miracle itself is superfluous, as Muse points out).

Yet this begs the question of what vindicated the “prior revelation” that we’re using to assess these later miracles in the first place. Muse does an excellent job of demonstrating how, in the New Testament, Jesus’ primary method of vindication is His mere display of divine power, not argumentative defenses of His theological positions. Muse indeed demonstrates that, from the New Testament alone, one must concede that miracles have the ability to compel belief, even from those whose theological views contradict the miracle’s content.

However, I could foresee some Protestants arguing that Jesus’ miracles were only vindicatory because He likewise defended His consistency with Moses and the prophets (cf. Jn 5:46). Although I don’t think this counterargument is successful, I wanted to explain how even if it was, it merely pushes the problem back a step.

Consider this episode from the Gospel of St. John, wherein it’s recorded that our Lord healed a man who had been born blind:

28 Then they [the Pharisees] hurled insults at him [the healed man] and said, “You are this fellow’s disciple! We are disciples of Moses! 29 We know that God spoke to Moses, but as for this fellow, we don’t even know where he comes from.”

30 The man answered, “Now that is remarkable! You don’t know where he comes from, yet he opened my eyes. 31 We know that God does not listen to sinners. He listens to the godly person who does his will. 32 Nobody has ever heard of opening the eyes of a man born blind. 33 If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.”

John 9:28-33

The Pharisees claim to “know that God spoke to Moses,” and yet they “don’t even know where [Christ] comes from.” The formerly blind man recognizes the inconsistency here.

How do the Pharisees know that God spoke to Moses? Was it not because of the signs and wonders that Moses performed in the midst of Egypt? Remember the story of Moses’ call from God:

1 Moses answered, “What if they do not believe me or listen to me and say, ‘The Lord did not appear to you’?”

2 Then the Lord said to him, “What is that in your hand?”

“A staff,” he replied.

3 The Lord said, “Throw it on the ground.”

Moses threw it on the ground and it became a snake, and he ran from it. 4 Then the Lord said to him, “Reach out your hand and take it by the tail.” So Moses reached out and took hold of the snake and it turned back into a staff in his hand. 5 “This,” said the Lord, “is so that they may believe that the Lord, the God of their fathers—the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob—has appeared to you.”

Exodus 4:1-5

According to the Lord, “this” miraculous sign of a staff turning into a snake was enough for the Israelites to “believe that the Lord… has appeared” to Moses. Divine power, not arguments to show consistency with prior revelation—which, as far as we know, didn’t even exist in “canonical form” at that point—was the means God used to compel belief in His servant Moses.

Indeed, throughout the Old Testament, the miraculous signs performed by Moses are consistently cited as the basis for believing that God is with Israel (cf. Ex 14:31; 19:9; Num 17:5; Ps 105:26-27). As Rahab told the Israelite spies:

“We have heard how the Lord dried up the water of the Red Sea for you when you came out of Egypt, and what you did to Sihon and Og, the two kings of the Amorites east of the Jordan, whom you completely destroyed. When we heard of it, our hearts melted in fear and everyone’s courage failed because of you, for the Lord your God is God in heaven above and on the earth below.”

Joshua 2:10-11

Something ought to be said about moral intuitions here. Slaying the firstborn of Egypt, as well as “destroying every city—men, women and children” during the battles against Sihon and Og (Deut 3:6), may rub up against one’s moral sensibilities. However, as Rahab testifies, no one could deny that these things were done by the power of God. This once again shows that raw divine power itself, and not reasoned argumentation, was the basis for Israel’s faith in Moses.

Circling back to the blind man’s critique of the Pharisees in John 9, the strength of his argument becomes apparent. The original followers of Moses were obliged to believe him because he performed works that only God could do. And yet Jesus performed mightier works than even Moses!

So how can the Pharisees “know” that God spoke through Moses without likewise knowing that He spoke through Jesus? They can’t. It was miracles that vindicated Moses’ original claims to speak on behalf of God (not a demonstration of consistency with prior revelation), and so a follower of Moses cannot deny the fact that Jesus Christ was indeed the “prophet like Moses” who did likewise (cf. Deut 18:15-19).

I apologize if this point has already been made in the “Catholic miracles” discourse, but I wanted to make it just in case it hadn’t. Without vindicatory miracles, there is no “prior revelation” to even compare the New Testament’s claims against. Muse is therefore correct that, unless we can know from the nature of a miracle itself that God has spoken—independent of our prior theological convictions—then the whole edifice of Christian revelation (both the Old and the New Testaments) falls apart.

In case you weren’t aware, Catholics are highly encouraged to come up with additional mysteries of the Rosary that aid us in contemplating the life of our Lord Jesus Christ. As such, here’s what I came up with for Holy Week. I pray that you find it as spiritually edifying as I have!

The First Mystery: Palm Sunday

In the first mystery of Holy Week we contemplate the triumphal entry of our Lord into Jerusalem, and we ask for the grace to reverence and adore Christ our King.

Contemplative reading

“Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” (Zechariah 9:9)

6 The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them. 7 They brought the donkey and the colt and put on them their cloaks, and he sat on them. 8 Most of the crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. 9 And the crowds that went before him and that followed him were shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!” 10 And when he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred up, saying, “Who is this?” 11 And the crowds said, “This is the prophet Jesus, from Nazareth of Galilee.” (Matthew 21:6-11)

Contemplative line

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus, who triumphantly entered Jerusalem on a donkey. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum; benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus, qui triumphans Jerusalem intravit asino. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen.

The Second Mystery: Spy Wednesday

In the second mystery of Holy Week we contemplate the betrayal of our Lord by Judas Iscariot, and we ask for the grace to never abandon Christ, and to faithfully endure betrayal as He did.

Contemplative reading

“14 Then one of the twelve, whose name was Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests 15 and said, “What will you give me if I deliver him over to you?” And they paid him thirty pieces of silver. 16 And from that moment he sought an opportunity to betray him.” (Matthew 26:14-16)

Contemplative line

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus, who was betrayed for thirty pieces of silver. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum; benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus, qui proditus est pro triginta argenteis. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen.

The Third Mystery: Maundy Thursday

In the third mystery of Holy Week we contemplate our Lord’s giving of a new commandment at the Last Supper, and we ask for the grace to love one another as our Eucharistic Lord loves us.

Contemplative reading

31 When he had gone out, Jesus said, “Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him. 32 If God is glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself, and glorify him at once. 33 Little children, yet a little while I am with you. You will seek me, and just as I said to the Jews, so now I also say to you, ‘Where I am going you cannot come.’ 34 A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. 35 By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” (John 13:31-35)

Contemplative line

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus, who gave us a new commandment, to love one another. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum; benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus, qui dedit nobis mandatum novum, ut diligamus invicem. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen.

The Fourth Mystery: Good Friday

In the fourth mystery of Holy Week we contemplate the Passion, suffering, and death of our Lord, and we ask for the grace to faithfully carry our cross until death.

Contemplative reading

35 And when they had crucified him, they divided his garments among them by casting lots. 36 Then they sat down and kept watch over him there. 37 And over his head they put the charge against him, which read, “This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.”

45 Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land until the ninth hour. 46 And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” 47 And some of the bystanders, hearing it, said, “This man is calling Elijah.” 48 And one of them at once ran and took a sponge, filled it with sour wine, and put it on a reed and gave it to him to drink. 49 But the others said, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to save him.” 50 And Jesus cried out again with a loud voice and yielded up his spirit. (Matthew 27:32-37, 45-50)

Contemplative line

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus, who suffered and died for us. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum; benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus, qui passus est et mortuus est propter nos. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen.

The Fifth Mystery: Holy Saturday

In the fifth mystery of Holy Week we contemplate our Lord’s liberation of the captive souls in Hades, and we ask for the grace to be freed from everything that keeps us in spiritual bondage.

Contemplative reading

For just as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the great fish, so will the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth. (Matthew 12:40)

8 Therefore it says, “When he ascended on high he led a host of captives, and he gave gifts to men.” 9 In saying, “He ascended,” what does it mean but that he had also descended into the lower regions, the earth? 10 He who descended is the one who also ascended far above all the heavens, that he might fill all things. (Ephesians 4:8-10)

Contemplative line

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus, who proclaimed liberty to the captives in Hades. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum; benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus, qui proclamavit libertatem captivis in inferis. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen.

There’s a popular argument against the literal interpretation of “days” in Genesis 1 that goes like this: Genesis 1:1-13 describes three “days” consisting of “evening” and “morning.” Yet this is prior to the creation of the sun, moon, and stars in Genesis 1:14-19. Clearly, this indicates that either the author of Genesis (Moses) was foolish, or that he understood “day” symbolically and not as a literal 24-hour period.

I hear this line of reasoning all the time. It even made its way into the latest Ignatius Catholic Study Bible put out by Scott Hahn and friends. But it’s a bad argument. In fact, not only is it wrong, but it actually ends up missing an important theological point that Moses wanted to communicate.

Let’s think through this. In Genesis 1:3-5, God creates “light” that He calls “day,” and then “darkness” that He calls “night.” This is what allows there to be “evening and... morning, the first day.” On the fourth day, God creates the sun, moon, and stars, and charges them “to rule over the day and over the night, and to separate the light from the darkness” (Gen 1:18). The pattern is this: God first creates a realm that He directly governs Himself—light and darkness, day and night—and then hands over the government of this realm to created intermediaries—the sun, moon, and stars.

This pattern foreshadows the creation of man. In Genesis 1:1, God first creates “the earth,” which He Himself governs by forming and filling it with life (Gen 1:1-25). However, on the sixth day, “God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over... the earth’” (Gen 1:26). God first creates the earth, directly forms and fills it Himself, and then hands over this “dominion” to mankind, charging men and women to continue His project of forming and filling the earth with new life (Gen 1:28).

Just as God had commanded the sun, moon, and stars to continue to “separate the light from the darkness,” as He had once done Himself, so now does He charge mankind to “be fruitful,” as He had once done Himself. Indeed, one may conclude that just as the “earth” over which mankind has dominion is the same earth that God alone initially governed, so too are the “day” and “night” over which the heavenly bodies rule the same day and night that God alone initially ruled—24-hour cycles of “light” and “darkness.”

As I pointed out in an old article, “The Heavenly Lights,” this connection between mankind and the heavenly bodies is intentional. The sun, moon, and stars represent men—ruling the heavens just as man rules the earth. This is why “signs” in the “heavens” often reflect changes in mankind’s political dominion, especially when it’s of eschatological significance (Matt 24:29; cf. Mk 13:24-25; Lk 21:25). This is why “the ruler of this world” who is “cast out” is described as the “sign” of the “dragon” in the “heavens” (Rev 12:3). If that’s not a Zodiac sign then I don’t know what is.1 He even “swept down a third of the stars of heaven and cast them to the earth” before being cast down himself (Rev 12:4).

Those who rule, even if they’re wicked, are symbolized by the heavenly bodies. This symbolic grammar was setup in Genesis 1. The sun, moon, and stars were the first of God’s creatures to exercise dominion over a realm that He once ruled alone—day and night. Why else would they, and not mankind, occupy the fourth day, the center of the Creation Week? They were the first rulers, we came second.

In the end, however, the dominion that the heavenly bodies have over day and night will be transferred one last time: “the [heavenly] city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb” (Rev 21:23). The sun, moon, and stars were never meant to rule the heavens forever, we were. This is why, one day, the saints of the Lamb “will shine like the bright expanse of the heavens… like the stars forever and ever” (Dan 12:3), fulfilling the promise to Abraham that his descendants would be “as the stars of heaven” (Gen 26:4).

Introduction

There’s been much online commentary concerning the (now somewhat) recent debate between my friend Elijah Yasi and the Eastern Orthodox apologist Alex Sorin. I haven’t been able to watch all of the “debate reviews” that have happened subsequently, nor do I intend on turning this article into some kind of debate review. However, I did want to address a topic that was prominent in Sorin’s opening statement, rebuttal, and much of the cross-examination: “empty honorifics.”

Alex made the bold claim that, “for almost every quote [in the early Church] exalting Rome, there’s a corresponding quote to other major Sees.” That is to say, for nearly every father or council you find interpreting Matthew 16, John 21, and Luke 22 as meaning that St. Peter and his successors in Rome will head the Church until the end of time,1 you can apparently find a corresponding quote that applies similar logic to a See other than Rome. This proves, so the argument goes, that all of the ancient councils and fathers who exalted the Roman pontiff were just flattering him with (ultimately) meaningless language. After all, if everyone is the supreme and divinely instituted head of the Catholic Church, then no one is.

This is the argument that Mr. Sorin attempted to prove in his debate with Mr. Yasi. To do so, he produced a florilegium of about ten quotes from antiquity that are said to describe men other than the pope as the divinely instituted heads of the Church. In this article, I will unpack every single quote that Sorin cites in his favor and explain why none of them truly constitute “empty” or “meaningless” honorifics. I will then take a detailed look at the papal claims in the first millennium and explain how these claims are different from the quotes cited by Sorin. In the end, I hope to demonstrate that when every quote under dispute is read in its proper context, and the truth being communicated is actually understood, there’s an obvious distinction between the papal claims and what’s dismissed as “empty honorifics.”

Alleged “Empty Honorifics”

St. Ignatius’ Epistle to the Philadelphians

The first quote that Sorin enlists in his favor comes from St. Ignatius of Antioch’s Epistle to the Philadelphians. Sorin claims that here Ignatius teaches the divine institution of the Church of Philadelphia: “the Church of God the Father, and our Lord Jesus Christ, which is at Philadelphia, in Asia, which has obtained mercy, and is established in the harmony of God.” Although Sorin doesn’t directly state his logic, it seems to be something like this: “Clearly, Ignatius didn’t really believe that the Church of Philadelphia was ‘divinely instituted,’ this was just an empty honorific. So too, no one really believed that Rome’s primacy was of divine origin, that was just an empty honorific.” But this is a bad argument for multiple reasons.

First, Ignatius doesn’t quite say that the Church of Philadelphia was “established by God” in reference to her founding. Instead, he says that the Church is currently “established in the harmony of God,” which seems to refer to her active fidelity to Jesus through union with her bishop. My question is, how was that an empty honorific? It was just true. Since the Holy Spirit alone brings the peace and unity of Christ into our midst, it’s perfectly acceptable to say that God Himself has literally “established” a faithful Church “in harmony.” It’s not as if the will of man is capable of such a feat. So how does Sorin envision this quote as proving that everyone in the early Church was just saying things that they didn’t really mean? I’m not sure.

Second, even if Ignatius did say something like, “the Church of Philadelphia was established by God,” and even if he went on to say something like, I don’t know, “whoever rebels against” the bishop of Philadelphia “is rebelling against what God has instituted,” would that really be an empty honorific? Consider what St. Paul the Apostle wrote about the first century Roman Empire:

Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists the authorities resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment.

Romans 13:1-2

Could you imagine if St. Ignatius of Antioch said something like this about the bishop of Philadelphia? There’s no doubt that Sorin would have taken such a quote as a “clear” and “undeniable” example of an empty honorific that doesn’t covey anything of serious theological consequence. However, since this quote is literally in the Bible and talking about civil authority rather than ecclesiastical authority, it makes sense why Mr. Sorin didn’t think to use it in his presentation.

Certainly, St. Paul would have been baffled by someone dismissing his words in Romans 13 as “empty honorifics.” Texts like Acts 22 and 25 reveal that the Apostle’s belief in the divinely instituted authority of Rome had a real impact on the way he conducted himself as a subject of the Empire. It was not an empty honorific. Mr. Sorin’s appeal to St. Ignatius in an attempt to dismiss all of the papal claims as “empty honorifics” thus leaves me quite baffled.

St. Ignatius’ Epistle to the Ephesians

The next quote Sorin appeals to in an attempt to prove his “empty honorifics” thesis is even more peculiar. He points to St. Ignatius’ comment that the Church of Ephesus is “predestinated before the ages of time, that it should be always for an enduring and unchangeable glory.”2 But once again, Sorin doesn’t directly state what conclusion he’s drawing from this text. Is it that Ignatius didn’t believe in the predestination of the Ephesian Church to eternal glory? And somehow this means we can dismiss later papal claims as being ultimately meaningless as well? How does that follow?

Moreover, one truly has to wonder if Mr. Sorin is aware of just how dependent upon the Apostle Paul our father St. Ignatius of Antioch was:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption to himself as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved. […] In him we have obtained an inheritance, having been predestined according to the purpose of him who works all things according to the counsel of his will, so that we who were the first to hope in Christ might be to the praise of his glory.

Ephesians 1:3-6, 11-12

The Apostle Paul wrote this to the same Ephesians not very long before Ignatius. It’s therefore likely that St. Ignatius wrote what he did to the Ephesians to remind them of what St. Paul had taught them just a few decades before about their predestination to eternal glory. To suppose, as Sorin does, that this is all “empty honorifics” is not only incorrect, but I would even say it’s insulting to St. Ignatius and St. Paul themselves.

St. Ignatius’ Epistle to the Smyrnaeans

Alex’s next argument from St. Ignatius is more egregious. He quotes the beginning of The Epistle of Ignatius to the Smyrnaeans, of which he has a strange translation:

Ignatius, who is also God-carrier, to the Church of God the Father and the Beloved Jesus Christ, which has received mercy in every good gift, which is filled in faith and love, which is second to none in every good gift, which is most worthy of God.

In bold are the words which Sorin himself bolded and underlined in his presentation. I’m honestly not sure where Sorin got this translation from, I couldn’t find it anywhere online. But since he makes a big deal about the Church of Smyrna being “second to none” (Alex repeats this phrase three times), it’s worth pointing out that this particular phrase isn’t one that Ignatius actually used.

The Greek phrase in question is ἀνυστερήτῳ οὔσῃ παντὸς χαρίσματος,3 which literally translates to, “being lacking in no gift.” While “second to none” isn’t a horrendous translation, it’s still an idiomatic or interpretive one, i.e. not literal. The translation found in the Ante-Nicene Fathers is more representative of the original Greek:

Ignatius, who is also called Theophorus, to the Church of God the Father, and of the beloved Jesus Christ, which has through mercy obtained every kind of gift, which is filled with faith and love, and is deficient in no gift, most worthy of God, and adorned with holiness: the Church which is at Smyrna, in Asia, wishes abundance of happiness, through the immaculate Spirit and word of God.

Translated by Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson. From Ante-Nicene Fathers, Vol. 1. Edited by Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe. (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1885.) Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. <http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/0109.htm>.

This makes Sorin’s rhetorical point about this text quite problematic. He asks, “Wait, I thought Rome had the most powerful spiritual gift. Did [Ignatius] forget about the gift of infallibility in Rome?” Sorin makes this argument because he thinks St. Ignatius calls the Church of Smyrna’s gifts “second to none” in comparison with other Churches. However, as noted, this “comparison” of Smyrna with other Churches isn’t actually in the Greek text, it’s an invention of whoever translated Sorin’s version of the text into English. This is what happens when apologists care more about scoring rhetorical points than doing careful research.

Indeed, if Sorin paid more attention to what St. Ignatius wrote in his epistle to the Smyrnaeans, he might have noticed that this particular passage has a parallel in the writings of (surprise surprise) St. Paul:

I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that was given you in Christ Jesus, that in every way you were enriched in him in all speech and all knowledge— even as the testimony about Christ was confirmed among you— so that you are not lacking in any gift, as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will sustain you to the end, guiltless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

1 Corinthians 1:4-9

Why didn’t Sorin quote this biblical text as an example of “empty honorifics”? Its language is clearly what inspired St. Ignatius, just compare the two:

• St. Ignatius: ἀνυστερήτῳ οὔσῃ παντὸς χαρίσματος, “being lacking in no gift.”

• St. Paul: ὑστερεῖσθαι ἐν μηδενὶ χαρίσματι,4 “lacking in not one gift.”

The answer is obviously because Sorin knows (at least he should) that St. Paul didn’t encourage the Corinthians with empty honorifics. When he told them that they “lacked no gift” in preparation for the coming of our Lord, he meant it. As Paul wrote to the Ephesians, God the Father “has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places” (Eph 1:3), which allows us to stand with confidence in the face of the coming “day of redemption” (cf. Eph 4:30). This has nothing to do with the “gift” or “grace” of ecclesiastical authority, rather it has everything to do with the spiritual gifts and blessings that our Father has bestowed on us in Christ.

In fact, in his Epistle to the Smyrnaeans, Ignatius never refers to the jurisdictional or teaching authority of any bishop as a “gift” or “grace.” The corporal works of mercy represent “the grace of Christ,”5 partaking of the Holy Eucharist is a “gift,”6 the laity’s obedience to their bishop happens “through grace,”7 it is “by the grace of God” that Ignatius will “attain God,”8 and so forth. In the context of this letter, Ignatius intends the word “gift” or “grace” to be understood as a spiritual blessing that interiorly sanctifies the faithful followers of our Lord. Like St. Paul, he’s not using that term to designate ecclesiastical prerogatives. The fact that Sorin didn’t realize any of this as he was preparing for this debate isn’t a great look.

St. Ignatius’ Epistle to St. Polycarp

The last argument from St. Ignatius that Sorin makes is perhaps his weakest. St. Ignatius writes to St. Polycarp: “Ignatius, who is also called Theophorus, to Polycarp, Bishop of the Church of the Smyrnæans, or rather, who has, as his own bishop, God the Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ.”9 The conclusion Sorin draws from this is, and I quote, “St. Ignatius says that the only bishop above St. Polycarp is God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. So I mean I guess he forgot also about the universal jurisdiction and supremacy about the bishop of Rome.” This argument really is indefensible.

First, Ignatius does not say that “the only bishop above St. Polycarp is God.” That word “only” isn’t even present in Sorin’s translation. Second, when St. Peter the Apostle wrote to his flock, “now you have returned to the Shepherd and Bishop of your souls” (1 Pet 2:25), i.e. the Lord Jesus Christ, was he denying his own episcopal authority over them? Clearly not. Affirming that God Himself is someone’s true Shepherd is an affirmation of their personal sanctity, not their ecclesiastical rank. Once again, this isn’t an empty honorific. St. Ignatius really believed in the personal sanctity of St. Polycarp. The fact that this didn’t occur to Sorin before publicly presenting this argument is a bit surprising.

St. Basil’s Letter 66 to St. Athanasius

After St. Ignatius of Antioch, Sorin then sets his sights on St. Basil the Great. He presents the following quote that one will find quite often on Eastern Orthodox apologetics blogs and YouTube channels:

[W]hat part is more vital to the Churches throughout the world than Antioch? Only let Antioch be restored to harmony, and nothing will stand in the way of her supplying, as a healthy head, soundness to all the body.

St. Basil, Letter 66.

In Sorin’s words, “St. Basil the Great says that Antioch is the head of the whole body… now what could be more vital to the churches of the world, the whole world, than the church of Antioch… So Antioch is the head, Rome is the body.” What do we Catholics have to say to this? Doesn’t this quote from St. Basil prove that, in antiquity, anyone and everyone was called “the head” of the Church? Doesn’t this mean that nobody was serious about the Roman pontiff being “the holy head” of all other bishops on account of the fact that “the head of the Apostles, is blessed Peter the Apostle”?10 No.

Let’s look at this quote from St. Basil with the relevant context:

No one, I feel sure, is more distressed at the present condition, or, rather to speak more truly, ill condition of the Churches than your excellency [St. Athanasius…]; for you compare the present with the past, and take into account how great a change has come about. You are well aware that if no check is put to the swift deterioration which we are witnessing, there will soon be nothing to prevent the complete transformation of the Churches. And if the decay of the Churches seems so pitiful to me, what must — so I have often in my lonely musings reflected — be the feelings of one who has known, by experience, the old tranquillity of the Churches of the Lord, and their one mind about the faith? […]

I for my part have long been aware, so far as my moderate intelligence has been able to judge of current events, that the one way of safety for the Churches of the East lies in their having the sympathy of the bishops of the West. For if only those bishops liked to show the same energy on behalf of the Christians sojourning in our part of the world which they have shown in the case of one or two of the men convicted of breaches of orthodoxy in the West, our common interests would probably reap no small benefit, our sovereigns treating the authority of the people with respect, and the laity in all quarters unhesitatingly following them. But, to carry out these objects, who has more capacity than yourself, with your intelligence and prudence? Who is keener to see the needful course to be taken? Who has more practical experience in working a profitable policy? Who feels more deeply the troubles of the brethren? What through all the West is more honoured than your venerable gray hairs? […]

For the rest of the affairs of the East perhaps you may need the aid of more, and we must wait for the Westerns. But plainly the discipline of the Church of Antioch depends upon your reverence’s being able to control some, to reduce others to silence, and to restore strength to the Church by concord. No one knows better than you do, that, like all wise physicians, you ought to begin your treatment in the most vital parts, and what part is more vital to the Churches throughout the world than Antioch? Only let Antioch be restored to harmony, and nothing will stand in the way of her supplying, as a healthy head, soundness to all the body. Truly the diseases of that city, which has not only been cut asunder by heretics, but is torn in pieces by men who say that they are of one mind with one another, stand in need of your wisdom and evangelic sympathy.

St. Basil, Letter 66.

In this letter, St. Basil is imploring St. Athanasius for help during the height of the Arian crisis. He correctly notes that “the one way of safety for the Churches of the East lies in their having the sympathy of the bishops of the West.” Since Athanasius was well known in the West as a champion of Nicene orthodoxy, Basil believed that his moral authority was crucial for securing western assistance.

Why did the East need the West’s support? Because, according to Basil, the West wasn’t really having any problems of its own. Unlike the East, the West wasn’t overrun with heretics and schismatics. Hence Basil humorously remarks, “if only those bishops [in the West] liked to show the same energy on behalf of the Christians sojourning in our part of the world [the East] which they have shown in the case of one or two of the men convicted of breaches of orthodoxy in the West.” The point is, orthodoxy was so secure in the West headed by Pope St. Damasus that the bishops there were more capable of acting as a unified front to oppose the heresies and schisms of the East.

This is when Basil turns his attention to the specific problems in the East. Since the Arian crisis was still raging, it was more important than ever for the Eastern Churches to unite against it. However, this is precisely what wasn’t happening in the prominent Church of Antioch, and by consequence, all of the Eastern Churches under its influence. Indeed, consider how Basil begins his letter to Athanasius by lamenting the “ill condition of the Churches,” “the swift deterioration… of the Churches,” and “the decay of the Churches,” after which he declares his longing for “the old tranquility of the Churches of the Lord.” Which Churches are being referred to here? It’s not the Churches of the West, which were doing just fine according to St. Basil. It’s not even all of the Churches of the East, as Alexandria was doing quite well with none other than St. Athanasius as their patriarch. Instead, Basil is referring to the Eastern Churches whose stability and orthodoxy was being threatened by the heresies and divisions in Antioch.

“The diseases of that city,” writes Basil, are more numerous than ever. Not only has the Church of Antioch been “cut asunder by heretics,” but it’s also been “torn in pieces” by the so-called Meletian schism. This was concerning because, at that time, Antioch was the highest See in Christendom that remained an Arian stronghold. By stating that Antioch is the most “vital to the Churches throughout the world [οἰκουμένην],”11 Basil indicates his fear that, if Antioch falls, Arianism could spread like a kind of cancer to the entire ecumene. Given the influence that Antioch had over the East, Basil perhaps imagines a frightful world in which Arians control the third highest See in Christendom,12 and from there start threatening the stability of the those areas of the empire that were Nicene.

With this context it’s obvious that, contra Mr. Sorin, St. Basil wasn’t lauding the Church of Antioch with “empty honorifics.” Basil doesn’t actually have anything nice to say about Antioch at all. When he states that Antioch can, “as a healthy head,” supply “soundness to all the body,” he’s merely continuing his medical analogy from the previous sentence: “like all wise physicians, you [Athanasius] ought to begin your treatment in the most vital parts.” Basil truly believed that, if Antioch fell, its diseases would spread to the entire empire—like a man’s diseased head infecting his body. Given the seriousness and urgency with which he appeals to Athanasius, it’s strange to suppose that Basil was engaged in “meaningless flattery” by this language.

The fact that apologists like Sorin can see Basil’s words, “what could be more vital to the churches of the world, the whole world, than the church of Antioch,” and conclude (even if insincerely), “So Antioch is the head, Rome is the body,” merely demonstrates that they didn’t read the entire letter. To understand why, let’s suppose that Basil’s use of the term “head” truly does indicate a sort of ecclesiastical authority. Now consider that the purpose of this head is to supply “soundness to all the body.” One simply has to ask, for St. Basil, who supplies “soundness” to the Church of Antioch? Recall his medical analogy: “like all wise physicians, you [Athanasius] ought to begin your treatment in the most vital parts, and what part is more vital to the Churches throughout the world than Antioch?” For Basil, Athanasius is the “physician” who needs to “treat” the “diseases” in Antioch. He literally says that “the discipline of the Church of Antioch depends upon your reverence’s being able to control some.” Antioch “depends upon” Athanasius’s Alexandria. Alexandria is thus the “head” See that provides “soundness” to the “body” of Antioch, not the other way around.

The same could be said about Rome. After all, according to Basil, “the one way of safety for the Churches of the East lies in their having the sympathy of the bishops of the West.” When further speaking about “the affairs of the East” he goes on to say that “we must wait for the Westerns.” Not only is the West (whose head is Rome) capable of supplying “soundness” to Antioch, but to all of the Eastern Churches as well. This is the reason why Basil asks for Athanasius’ help in securing western assistance to begin with. Indeed, if we suppose that Basil’s reference to “headship” in this letter implies ecclesiastical authority, then the picture we get is this: Rome is the head over the East, Alexandria is the head over Antioch, and Antioch is the head over the rest of the empire. This ends up cohering perfectly with the pre-Constantinopolitan ranking of the Churches of Rome, Alexandria, and Antioch.13 I’m not sure that Basil actually had this traditional ranking of the apostolic Sees in mind—this is perhaps an area for further study—but I couldn’t help but notice the pattern.

Ultimately, however you slice it, it’s simply impossible to read St. Basil as suggesting that Antioch is the head over Rome or Alexandria. Likewise, it betrays the context of Basil’s letter to read it as insincerely flattering Antioch with empty honorifics. In reality, this letter doesn’t contain any praise of Antioch at all, only lament.

Now, Mr. Sorin is certainly correct that texts like this help Catholics see that we can’t just look at someone being called “the head of the whole world” and derive Vatican I therefrom. As I’ll explain later in this article, that’s not what Catholics have to do in order to defend the papacy. Rather, we have to consider each quote on a case-by-case basis, pay close attention to the context (both immediate and historical), and actually try to understand what the author is communicating. Given Sorin sped through ten quotes in less than four minutes, it’s no wonder that he didn’t do any of this, and therefore didn’t truly understand any of the quotes he used in the debate.

St. Basil’s Letter 67 to St. Athanasius

Having misunderstood St. Basil’s first letter to St. Athanasius, it makes sense that Sorin would misread Basil’s follow-up letter as well.

St. Basil begins Letter 67 by explicitly affirming that this is a continuation of his “former letter.” Apparently he didn’t make his support for St. Meletius in particular clear enough. In other words, the only thing Basil intends on adding to what he wrote in his previous letter is the specific name of Meletius. Let’s look at the entire letter (it’s very short) and see where Sorin goes wrong in interpreting it:

In my former letter it seemed to me sufficient to point out to your excellency, that all that portion of the people of the holy Church of Antioch who are sound in the faith, ought to be brought to concord and unity. My object was to make it plain that the sections, now divided into several parts, ought to be united under the God-beloved bishop Meletius. Now the same beloved deacon, Dorotheus, has requested a more distinct statement on these subjects, and I am therefore constrained to point out that it is the prayer of the whole East, and the earnest desire of one who, like myself, is so wholly united to him, to see him in authority over the Churches of the Lord. He is a man of unimpeachable faith; his manner of life is incomparably excellent, he stands at the head, so to say, of the whole body of the Church, and all else are mere disjointed members. On every ground, then, it is necessary as well as advantageous, that the rest should be united with him, just as smaller streams with great ones. About the rest, however, a certain amount of management is needed, befitting their position, and likely to pacify the people. This is in keeping with your own wisdom, and with your famous readiness and energy. It has however by no means escaped your intelligence, that this same course of procedure has already recommended itself to the Westerns who are in agreement with you, as I learn from the letters brought to me by the blessed Silvanus.

St. Basil, Letter 67.

Of course, Sorin highlights Basil’s comment that Meletius “stands at the head, so to say, of the whole body of the Church, and all else are mere disjointed members,” and says, ah ha! See? Everyone and anyone in antiquity was called “the head of the Church,” there’s nothing special about Rome being the head. It’s all empty honorifics, mere flattery, it doesn’t actually mean anything of consequence. But is that true?

No. Above it was already shown how St. Basil essentially denied the Church of Antioch being a head over the Western Churches, and instead affirmed that the entire East (including Antioch) depended upon the West. He likewise denied that other Eastern Churches such as Alexandria depend on Antioch, and instead affirmed the exact opposite. Thus, if Basil envisions the patriarch of Antioch as “the head” of “the whole body of the Church,” this would be referring to his headship over the Eastern Churches in Basil’s area, and this headship was no mere honorific.

However, in this specific context, I’m not even sure that that’s what Basil is talking about. He writes that St. Meletius “is a man of unimpeachable faith; his manner of life is incomparably excellent, he stands at the head, so to say, of the whole body of the Church, and all else are mere disjointed members.” Basil seems to be describing the personal qualities of the man Meletius, more so than the ecclesiastical prerogatives of the See of Antioch. Meletius’ “unimpeachable faith” and “manner of life” are so “excellent” that everyone can look up to him as a faithful leader to follow. Basil is likely contrasting St. Meletius with his “rival” St. Paulinus of Antioch, trying to show that the former is so holy and so widely acclaimed that he’s already acting as a unifying “head” behind which the Nicene East can rally. Indeed, the fact that Basil’s previous letter had nothing but negative things to say about Antioch, and this letter has nothing but positive things to say about Meletius, supports this interpretation that Letter 67 speaks to Meletius’ personal qualities, not ecclesiastical prerogatives.

I’m a little surprised that Sorin didn’t quote the immediately preceding sentence, wherein Basil states that he and everyone in the East longs “to see [Meletius] in authority over the Churches of the Lord.” Maybe whatever florilegium Sorin got this quote from didn’t include that part. Regardless, that quote seems like a more direct reference to the ecclesiastical authority of Antioch than the one Sorin highlighted. Yet read the full context: “it is the prayer of the whole East, and the earnest desire of one who, like myself, is so wholly united to him, to see him in authority over the Churches of the Lord.” Once again, this isn’t an empty honorific. Basil and those like him in his jurisdiction truly wished to see Meletius as the authoritative head of the third highest See in Christendom. Basil already alluded to this in his previous letter, to which this current letter is a mere addendum.

St. Basil’s Letter 69 to St. Athanasius

Alex goes on to quote yet another letter that St. Basil wrote to St. Athanasius in an attempt to prove that “everybody [in antiquity] talks about everyone” as if they’re the supreme rulers of the Church (but no one really believes that, of course). Once again, I’m not sure which translation Sorin is using, but the standard Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers translation actually steel-mans Sorin’s argument, so I’ll quote from that:

With the object of offering some contribution to the action which is being taken in this matter, I have thought that I could not make a more fitting beginning than by having recourse to your excellency [Athanasius], as to the head and chief of all, and treating you as alike adviser and commander in the enterprise.

St. Basil, Letter 69.

First St. Meletius is the head of the “whole world,” now St. Athanasius is the “head and chief over all,” next thing you know, Basil himself might be the supreme pastor of the known universe! That is, of course, if you don’t realize what Basil is saying in context. Once again, let’s look at the full quote:

As time moves on, it continually confirms the opinion which I have long held of your holiness [Athanasius]; or rather that opinion is strengthened by the daily course of events. Most men are indeed satisfied with observing, each one, what lies especially within his own province; not thus is it with you, but your anxiety for all the Churches is no less than that which you feel for the Church that has been especially [ἰδίως] entrusted to you by our common Lord; inasmuch as you leave no interval in speaking, exhorting, writing, and dispatching emissaries, who from time to time give the best advice in each emergency as it arises. Now, from the sacred ranks of your clergy, you have sent forth the venerable brother Peter, whom I have welcomed with great joy. I have also approved of the good object of his journey, which he manifests in accordance with the commands of your excellency, in effecting reconciliation where he finds opposition, and bringing about union instead of division. With the object of offering some contribution to the action which is being taken in this matter, I have thought that I could not make a more fitting beginning than by having recourse to your excellency, as to the head and chief of all [ὥσπερ ἐπὶ κορυφὴν τῶν ὅλων], and treating you as alike adviser and commander in the enterprise. I have therefore determined to send to your reverence our brother Dorotheus the deacon, of the Church under the right honourable bishop Meletius, being one who at once is an energetic supporter of the orthodox faith, and is earnestly desirous of seeing the peace of the Churches. The results, I hope, will be, that, following your suggestions (which you are able to make with the less likelihood of failure, both from your age and your experience in affairs, and because you have a greater measure than all others of the aid of the Spirit), he may thus attempt the achievement of our objects. You will welcome him, I am sure, and will look upon him with friendly eyes. You will strengthen him by the help of your prayers; you will give him a letter as provision by the way; you will grant him, as companions, some of the good men and true that you have about you; so you will speed him on the road to what is before him.

It has seemed to me to be desirable to send a letter to the bishop of Rome, begging him to examine our condition [ἐπισκέψασθαι τὰ ἐνταῦθα, καὶ δοῦναι γνώμην], and since there are difficulties in the way of representatives being sent from the West by a general synodical decree, to advise him to exercise his own personal authority [αὐτὸν αὐθεντῆσαι] in the matter by choosing suitable persons to sustain the labours of a journey — suitable, too, by gentleness and firmness of character, to correct the unruly among us here; able to speak with proper reserve and appropriateness, and thoroughly well acquainted with all that has been effected after Ariminum to undo the violent measures adopted there. I should advise that, without any one knowing anything about it, they should travel hither, attracting as little attention as possible, by the sea, with the object of escaping the notice of the enemies of peace.

St. Basil, Letter 69.

The first thing to note is what Basil says about Athanasius right at the beginning of this letter: “your anxiety for all the Churches is no less than that which you feel for the Church that has been especially entrusted to you by our common Lord.” Right from the start Basil makes a distinction between the Church that has been “especially” or “personally entrusted,” τῆς ἰδίως … ἐμπιστευθείσης,14 to Athanasius’ care by our Lord, i.e. the Church of Alexandria, and “all the” other “Churches” for which Athanasius cares. In other words, Basil explicitly acknowledges that Athanasius isn’t the divinely instituted head of “all the Churches,” rather he’s a moral authority who cares for all of the Churches as if they were his own, even though they aren’t.

This is further reflected in the section of this letter from which Mr. Sorin quotes. Basil thanks Athanasius for sending “the venerable brother Peter” to help “effect reconciliation” and “bring about union” in the divided Eastern Churches. It’s with the purpose of making a “contribution” to this same “matter” that Basil has decided to have recourse to Athanasius, “as to the head and chief of all,” ὥσπερ ἐπὶ κορυφὴν τῶν ὅλων, treating him “as alike adviser and commander in the enterprise” of restoring the unity of the East. Sorin’s translation is actually more reflective of the original Greek. Basil literally describes Athanasius as “the highest” or “the summit” of all. But remember the context: Athanasius is “the highest of all” when it comes to the specific matter of effecting unity in the Eastern Churches. Basil is describing not merely the moral authority that Athanasius has as a holy defender of Nicene orthodoxy, but also the practical knowledge and skill he possesses to unify the Church; no where does he explicitly state that Athanasius’ patriarchal See of Alexandria has inherited a divine mandate from Christ to care for all the Churches or anything like that.

Indeed, consider the reasons Basil gives for why Athanasius is “able to make with the less likelihood of failure” in this “enterprise” of fostering unity in the divided East: “[because of] your age and your experience in affairs, and because you have a greater measure than all others of the aid of the Spirit.” These are all descriptions of Athanasius’ personal qualities as a wise, experienced, and spiritual man. Once again, there’s no explicit reference to any divine commission from our Lord that’s directly inherited by Athanasius through his episcopal office. Moreover, it must be stressed that Basil simply isn’t talking about Athanasius’ relation to the universal Church in this context. He’s explicitly limiting the scope of his discussion to eastern affairs.

One of the ways we know that St. Basil is only speaking about St. Athanasius’ moral “headship” over the East is because of what he says about the West in this same letter. Ironically, while Basil doesn’t say much about Athanasius’ episcopal or jurisdictional authority, when he does refer to the “personal authority,” αὐτὸν αὐθεντῆσαι, of a bishop, one whose “assessment,” γνώμην, he’s seeking, it’s “the bishop of Rome,” not Athanasius. It’s even more striking that, in context, Basil is equating the authority of the pope with the authority of a “general synodical decree,” which likely refers to the judgment of a western synod. This means that, for Basil, the bishop of Rome doesn’t need recourse to his local synod in order to give authoritative judgments; judgments that concern the East, no less. Make of that what you will (Alex brought up this letter, not me).

The only thing I want to highlight is that Basil clearly isn’t envisioning St. Athanasius as “the head” or “the chief” bishop over the West. In context, Basil explicitly (1) limits Athanasius’ episcopal jurisdiction to Alexandria, (2) affirms that Athanasius is the man most capable of restoring unity to the Eastern Churches (think of him like a St. Maximus the Confessor figure), and (3) acknowledges the pope’s authority as extending into eastern affairs (at least in some cases). These are the conclusions one may legitimately draw upon carefully exegeting St. Basil’s Letter 69 to St. Athanasius.

Moreover, even if Basil is speaking to ecclesiastical rank in this letter, it would be nothing other than what he hinted at in his previous letters. Namely, that Rome, Alexandria, and Antioch are the primatial Churches. Not only does Basil never explain why any particular Church holds its rank (which is a striking difference between his letters and the papal claims, as we’ll see below), but the more important point is this: it just isn’t plausible to read him as suggesting that the See of Alexandria is an ecclesiastical head over the See of Rome or any Western Churches for that matter.

Thus, contra Mr. Sorin, I don’t detect any “empty honorifics” here. It’s reasonable to hold that Basil literally believed all of the points I’ve explained above. This means that, so far, Sorin still hasn’t provided an example of so-called empty honorifics in the early Church that challenges the papal claims.

St. Gregory the Theologian, Oration 21

The next quote Sorin brings up to try and “water down” the papal claims of antiquity is St. Gregory the Theologian’s Oration 21, “On the Great Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria.” He cites the following text:

He was brought up, from the first, in religious habits and practices, after a brief study of literature and philosophy, so that he might not be utterly unskilled in such subjects, or ignorant of matters which he had determined to despise. For his generous and eager soul could not brook being occupied in vanities, like unskilled athletes, who beat the air instead of their antagonists and lose the prize. From meditating on every book of the Old and New Testament, with a depth such as none else has applied even to one of them, he grew rich in contemplation, rich in splendour of life, combining them in wondrous sort by that golden bond which few can weave; using life as the guide of contemplation, contemplation as the seal of life. For the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and, so to say, its first swathing band; but, when wisdom has burst the bonds of fear and risen up to love, it makes us friends of God, and sons instead of bondsmen.

Thus brought up and trained, as even now those should be who are to preside over the people, and take the direction of the mighty body of Christ, according to the will and foreknowledge of God, which lays long before the foundations of great deeds, [Athanasius] was invested with this important ministry, and made one of those who draw near to the God Who draws near to us, and deemed worthy of the holy office and rank, and, after passing through the entire series of orders, he was (to make my story short) entrusted with the chief rule over the people, in other words, the charge of the whole world: nor can I say whether he received the priesthood as the reward of virtue, or to be the fountain and life of the Church. For she, like Ishmael, Genesis 21:19 fainting from her thirst for the truth, needed to be given to drink, or, like Elijah, 1 Kings 17:4 to be refreshed from the brook, when the land was parched by drought; and, when but faintly breathing, to be restored to life and left as a seed to Israel, Isaiah 1:9 that we might not become like Sodom and Gomorrha, Genesis 19:24 whose destruction by the rain of fire and brimstone is only more notorious than their wickedness. Therefore, when we were cast down, a horn of salvation was raised up for us, Luke 1:69 and a chief corner stone, Isaiah 28:16 knitting us to itself and to one another, was laid in due season, or a fire Malachi 3:2-3 to purify our base and evil matter, or a farmer’s fan Matthew 3:12 to winnow the light from the weighty in doctrine, or a sword to cut out the roots of wickedness; and so the Word finds him as his own ally, and the Spirit takes possession of one who will breathe on His behalf.

St. Gregory the Theologian, Oration 21, 6-7.

This is probably the closest thing to “empty honorifics” Alex has cited thus far. However, I’m still not convinced that’s what’s going on here.

It’s important for us to distinguish between empty honorifics on the one hand, and metaphorical but truthful language on the other. While it’s true that St. Athanasius didn’t literally have episcopal “rule over the people,” as St. Gregory’s language suggests, we still have to ask the question: what truth is Gregory trying to communicate? It clearly can’t be the case that Gregory actually believes the complete and utter opposite of what he’s saying; something like, “there’s no sense at all in which Athanasius had charge over the whole world.” As noted above, when we encounter passages like this it’s important to look at the context, something many apologists fail to do.

Immediately before writing that St. Athanasius was “entrusted with the chief rule over the people,” the Theologian notes something curious: “Thus brought up and trained, as even now those should be who are to preside over the people, and take the direction of the mighty body of Christ, according to the will and foreknowledge of God, which lays long before the foundations of great deeds…” This is worth pausing on. In Gregory’s mind, there are many men “even now” being called to “preside over the people” and “take the direction” of the whole “body of Christ.” While Gregory likely has bishops in mind, his point isn’t that these men lead the Church by their jurisdictional authority, but rather by the “great deeds” that God has predestined them to carry out.

Just look at the scriptural verses that Gregory appropriates in order to describe how St. Athanasius was one of these great men: Athanasius was “left as a seed to Israel” (cf. Isa 1:9), he was “a horn of salvation [that] was raised up for us” (cf. Lk 1:69), he was “a chief cornerstone” (cf. Eph 2:20), a purifying fire (cf. Mal 3:2-3), and a winnowing-fork (cf. Matt 3:12). These aren’t biblical texts that describe ecclesiastical authority, but rather prophetic mission. The “chief rule” that Athanasius exercised over the people was less like the kings of Israel’s, and more like the ancient prophets.’ For the Theologian, St. Athanasius wasn’t an ecclesiastical ruler over the entire Church, rather he was a prophetic and spiritual ruler. Athanasius “ruled” the whole Church by the Holy Spirit empowering him with heroic virtue, not ecclesial authority. This is why, in the same work, Gregory says the following about Athanasius:

And therefore, first in the holy Synod of Nicæa, the gathering of the three hundred and eighteen chosen men, united by the Holy Ghost, as far as in him lay, he stayed the disease. Though not yet ranked among the Bishops, he held the first rank among the members of the Council, for preference was given to virtue just as much as to office.

St. Gregory the Theologian, Oration 21, 14.

Despite “not yet [being] ranked among the Bishops,” St. Gregory nonetheless holds St. Athanasius to have been “the first [in] rank among the members of the Council” of Nicaea. This simply underscores the point that, when we look at the context of this oration, it’s evident that Gregory is identifying Athanasius’ personal virtue as being the means by which he presided over the Church’s affairs during the Arian crisis. When Gregory uses language from Sacred Scripture to speak about Athanasius (which is different from interpreting Scripture to actually be about Athanasius), it likewise highlights his personal calling and sanctity as a virtuous man, and says absolutely nothing about any unique divine prerogatives being attached to his episcopal See.

To use an analogy, this would be akin to describing prophetic figures like St. Maximus the Confessor, St. Francis of Assisi, St. Catherine of Sienna, or St. Joan of Arc as the spiritual and prophetic “leaders” of the Church during their respective times. This isn’t an empty honorific, it’s true in a profound way. As Dan and Steven Alspach have documented at length in their study of prophetic gifts in the early Church,15 the Holy Spirit truly has an on-going mission of prophetic witness that He carries out through the saints. Sometimes those saints have an ecclesiastical rank, as in Athanasius’ case, other times they don’t. But as Gregory notes, “preference” ought to be “given to virtue just as much as to office” when it comes to the Lord’s chosen saints.

A similar line of reasoning can explain the other passage from this text that Sorin quotes: “[Athanasius] legislated again for the whole world, and brought all minds under his influence, by letters to some, by invitations to others, instructing some, who visited him uninvited, and proposing as the single law to all — Good will.”16 Once again, it’s obvious from the context that St. Gregory isn’t talking about literal ecclesiastical “legislation.” The Council of Nicaea had ecclesiastically “legislated” the doctrine of the Trinity, and yet that didn’t stop the Arian crisis. Something more than a conciliar decree was needed, and that’s what St. Gregory views St. Athanasius as having provided: “He cleansed the temple of those who made merchandise of God, and trafficked in the things of Christ, imitating Christ in this also; only it was with persuasive words, not with a twisted scourge that this was wrought.”17

It wasn’t Athanasius’ ecclesiastical authority that “brought all minds under his influence.” If the authority of 318 bishops at Nicaea wasn’t able to do that, then the authority of one more bishop certainly wouldn’t help. No, it was Athanasius’ “persuasive words” together with his show of “good will” that, in Gregory’s mind, “legislated” the Trinity in the hearts and minds of the whole world.

Circling back to Mr. Sorin’s claim that applying the Catholic “method of interpretation” to these texts leads to absurd conclusions, this is clearly not true. The method of interpretation with which I’ve approached all of his cited texts is to simply read them in context, and try to unpack what truth their authors were seeking to convey through their words. This is the exact same methodology I’ll apply to the papal claims later in this article. So far, we still haven’t seen a single example of a patristic writer claiming that someone other than the pope of Rome has inherited the divine commission that our Lord gave to St. Peter in Matthew 16, Luke 22, and John 21. Even all of the references to someone else being “the head” of the Church (which, if patristic references to the pope being “the head of the Church” were all Catholics had, then I would fully agree that the papacy is indefensible) have proven to mean something other than a quasi-papal claim when read in context.

If our Eastern Orthodox apologist’s argument was simply that Catholics need to be careful when interpreting patristic statements about the pope being “the head,” then his point would be well taken. But that’s not his argument. Instead, Sorin’s position seems to be that all ancient references to someone being “the head” of the Church are meaningless flattery, and so we don’t even have to bother understanding what different patristic authors actually meant by this language. All of the traditional arguments for the papacy can therefore be dismissed out of hand without any serious research! That would certainly make life easier for the inquirer into Eastern Orthodoxy and Catholicism, the only issue is that it’s not true.

St. Agatho’s Letter to the Sixth Ecumenical Council

The next quote that Sorin claims is nothing but an “empty honorific” is perhaps the most relevant one so far. It comes from the letter of Pope St. Agatho to the Sixth Ecumenical Council, a text that Catholics traditionally cite as providing evidence for the papal claims in the first millennium. Let’s take a look at what Sorin sees in this text as being nothing more than mere flattery:

For it was most pious and emanated from your [the Emperor’s] most meek tranquillity, taught by the divine benignity for the benefit of the Christian commonwealth divinely entrusted to your keeping, that your imperial power and clemency might have a care to enquire diligently concerning the things of God (through whom Kings do reign, who is himself King of Kings and Lord of Lords) and might seek after the truth of his spotless faith as it has been handed down by the Apostles and by the Apostolic Fathers, and be zealously affected to command that in all the churches the pure tradition be held. And that no one may be ignorant of this pious intention of yours, or suspect that we have been compelled by force, and have not freely consented to the carrying into effect of the imperial decrees touching the preaching of our evangelical faith which was addressed to our predecessor Donus, a pontiff of Apostolic memory, they have through our ministry been sent to and entirely approved by all nations and peoples; for these decrees the Holy Spirit by his grace dictated to the tongue of the imperial pen, out of the treasure of a pure heart…

The Letter of Pope Agatho. Translated by Henry Percival. From Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, Vol. 14. Edited by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace. (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1900.) Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. <http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3813.htm>.

This is intriguing. St. Agatho says that the emperor was appointed by God to rule and that his imperial decrees that declared Jesus Christ is Lord (fully God and fully man, possessing both a divine will and a human will) were the work of the Holy Spirit! Surely this is just meaningless flattery, right? I honestly don’t think so.

Consider once again what the Apostle Paul wrote about the pagan Roman Empire: “there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists the authorities resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment” (Rom 13:1-2). How much more could this be said of the Christianized Roman Empire to which St. Agatho wrote? Indeed, why couldn’t Agatho have literally believed in some form of “the divine right of kings”? He directly says that God is the one “through whom Kings do reign, who is himself King of Kings and Lord of Lords.” I see no reason to dismiss this as an empty honorific. As I wrote in a previous article that touched on this same topic, “Do we have any actual reasons to believe” that seventh century praise of the Roman Empire is mere flattery “other than imposing modern political views on ancient sources? Nope.”18

Likewise, recall what St. Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 12:3, “no one can say, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ except by the Holy Spirit.” No one may confess that Jesus Christ our Lord is fully God and fully man without the Holy Spirit dictating this to his tongue. If it wasn’t meaningless flattery when St. Paul wrote it, then why must we believe that it was meaningless flattery when St. Agatho wrote it? In fairness to Mr. Sorin, I’ve seen actual scholars make arguments along similar lines. However, I’ve never seen anything more than a mere assertion that language like St. Agatho’s is meaningless. What reasons do we have to think so? Scholars like Fr. Klaus Schatz provide none. More will be said about this letter of Pope St. Agatho below.

The Papal Legates at Constantinople 879

The next quote that Sorin tries to argue is “empty honorifics” is, in my opinion, the worst one he could have possibly chosen. Sorin cites the following words from one of the papal legates who was present at the Council of Constantinople 879, the synod that restored Photius as the lawful patriarch of Constantinople:

I, Paul, unworthy bishop of the Holy Church of Ancona, legate of the Holy Apostolic See and of my master, Blessed John, the Supreme Pontiff of the Roman, Catholic and Apostolic Church and oecumenical Pope, accept, in accordance with my mandate, order and consent of the very Holy, Apostolic and Oecumenical Pope John, and with the assent of the Church of Constantinople and of the legates of the three other Patriarchs and with the approval of the same Holy and Oecumenical Synod, this venerable Photius, legitimate and canonically elected Patriarch, to his patriarchal dignity, and I am in communion with him in accordance with the tenor and the terms of the Commonitorium. I repudiate and anathematize the synod that was summoned against him in this Holy Church of Constantinople. Whatever, in whatever manner, was done against him at the time of Hadrian, of pious memory, then Roman Pope, I declare abrogated, anathematized and rejected in accordance with the Commonitorium, and that assembly I in no way reckon among the sacred synods. Whoever shall attempt to divide the Holy Church of God and sever himself from his own supreme pastor and oecumenical Patriarch, the saintly Photius, must himself be severed from the Holy Church of God, and until he returns to her, communicates with the Holy and oecumenical Patriarch and submits to the judgement of the Holy See, must remain excommunicated. Moreover, to the holy and oecumenical synod which met for the second time in Nicaea on the subject of the sacred and venerable images, at the time of Hadrian I, Roman Pope of blessed memory, and of Tarasius, the very holy Patriarch of the Church of Constantinople, I give the name of Seventh Council and number it with the six holy synods. Signed with my own hand.

Fr. Francis Dvornik, The Photian Schism: History and Legend, pp. 193-4.

Now, Mr. Sorin didn’t quote this entire text, he just cited the papal legate’s statement that Photius is the easterners’ “own supreme pastor and oecumenical Patriarch,” and his conclusion was that “Photius is the pope” according to these words. Yet this is clearly false. Bishop Paul begins his statement by referring to “Blessed John, the Supreme Pontiff of the Roman, Catholic and Apostolic Church and oecumenical Pope… the very Holy, Apostolic and Oecumenical Pope.” According to Paul, Pope John VIII is the “oecumenical” or “universal” pope, while Photius is simply the easterners’ “own supreme pastor and oecumenical Patriarch.”

This same sentiment was echoed by “John the most God-beloved metropolitan of Heraclea” who said:

By his [Pope John VIII’s] holy prayers we have already become one flock, and we have one true shepherd, holy and guileless, Photius our most holy master and oecumenical patriarch.

The Acts of the Eighth Œcumenical Council, trans. Gregory Heers, p. 186.

In context, Photius is the “one true shepherd” of the Church of Constantinople. This is why John of Heraclea, an eastern bishop, refers to Photius as “our most holy master and oecumenical patriarch.” This language was no mere flattery. The eastern bishops at Constantinople 879 were absolutely serious that Photius was their one lawful patriarch, and thus the one lawful head of all of the Eastern Churches. This was likely directed against the party in Constantinople led by Metrophanes of Smyrna that refused to recognize Photius as their patriarch.

Once again, in context, none of this was to the detriment of the Roman pontiff’s supreme and divine headship over the entire Church. Just look at the letter of Pope John VIII, which was brought to the Council of Constantinople 879 by the same papal legates whom Sorin claims engaged in nothing but mere flattery:

Ye laid hold of the holy church of the Romans through your apocrisiaries and your most godly letters, being convinced that she would not neglect to help you toward your purpose. Ye were not the first to arrive at this thought, but ye were rather giving way and closely following after the custom of those that had piously reigned before you. But really, it deserves to be asked, from which teacher were ye taught to do this? Was it not clearly from the chief of the apostles Peter, whom the Lord appointed head of all the churches, saying, “Feed my sheep”? Yet not only from him, but also from the holy Councils and ordinances, and also from the institutions and teachings of the sacred and orthodox and venerable fathers, as your godly and pious letters also testify.

Letter of Pope John VIII to Emperor Basil the Macedonian, The Acts of the Eighth Œcumenical Council, trans. Gregory Heers, p. 200.

While Mr. Sorin may wish to dismiss this letter as “mere flattery,” that’s not how the very scholar on whom he relies, Fr. Francis Dvornik, interpreted it:

In his letter to Basil, the Pope begins by expressing satisfaction that Basil should submit to the authority of the Roman See, an authority confirmed by the Founder of that See [Christ] when He said to St Peter, “Feed my sheep.” He also notes with pleasure that Basil acknowledged this See to be the head of the whole Church. In deference to the Emperor’s wishes, although Photius had resumed his see without Rome’s consent, the Pope is agreeable to his being the legitimate Patriarch; but Photius should apologize before the synod and make amends for his previous conduct. In the exercise of his powers to bind and loose, the Pope releases Photius and his bishops from the ecclesiastical censures imposed on them. It is the Roman See’s right to judge Patriarchs; and as the condition of his recognition by Rome, Photius must no longer exercise any ecclesiastical powers in Bulgaria. The Emperor must honour Photius and give no ear to his detractors. Basil must also receive all the Ignatian bishops returning to Photius, and those who refuse to accept the new state of things are threatened with excommunication.

Fr. Francis Dvornik, The Photian Schism: History and Legend, p. 174.

According to Fr. Dvornik, this papal letter is no empty honorific. John VIII, as the successor to St. Nicholas I (!) and Hadrian II, followed his predecessors’ belief that Christ not only made the Roman See “the head of the whole Church” through his commission to St. Peter in John 21, but also that our Lord gave Rome the “authority” and “right” to “judge Patriarchs” through her Petrine succession. In Dvornik’s words, John VIII held it to be “in virtue of the authority vested in the successor of St Peter” that he “approve[d] his [Photius’] nomination to the patriarchate.”19 Since John VIII made these papal claims in the context of literally enacting his own perceived divine power of judgment over Photius and the See of Constantinople, reading his words as mere flattery isn’t a serious position to hold.

Nor am I alone in this perspective. Fr. Peter Heers, a well known Eastern Orthodox polemicist and a staunch critic of Catholicism, put out a translation of The Acts of the Eighth Œcumenical Council through his publication, Uncut Mountain Press. Here’s what that volume has to say about the above quoted letter from Pope John (the actual commentary was written by Dr. Constantine Siamakis):

Boundless arrogance on the part of the pope of Rome. He places first the pope, himself, identifying him with Christ and Peter; below him are the Oecumenical Councils; below the councils are every single one of the Fathers of the Church. Holy Scripture and sacred tradition are substituted by the pope, as expressed by the pope himself and in fact at a time when he needs to flatter Basil most servilely because of the Arab danger.

The Acts of the Eighth Œcumenical Council, trans. Gregory Heers, p. 200n186.

For both Dvornik and Siamakis, Pope John VIII—and by extension his legates—wasn’t at all ambiguous in what he claimed at the Council of Constantinople 879. The pope and his legates all believed that, by the institution of Jesus Christ Himself, the See of Rome was the head and judge of all other Churches. This is a claim that became intolerable to the East only after the Great Schism, as Siamakis inadvertently attests.

Indeed, in his commentary on Constantinople 879, the Eastern Orthodox polemicist Craig Truglia writes that the eastern bishops there “fail[ed] to censure the Papal legates on this point,” i.e. the pope’s divine headship over the Church. “From an Orthodox perspective,” Truglia continues, “This would be the council’s chief failure.”20 The 17th century Eastern Orthodox patriarch of Jerusalem, Dositheus II, likened the claims made in John VIII’s letter to those made by “Agatho’s [epistle] in the Sixth” Ecumenical Council and “Hadrian’s in the Seventh.” For Dositheus, John VIII’s teachings were “irrational,” especially “the pope’s excessive and uncanonical words concerning the Roman church.”21 So to turn Sorin’s rhetoric against him: “these are your sources, these are your scholars” saying that the papal legates at Constantinople 879 weren’t engaged in empty flattery.

Something I found quite amusing about reading Siamakis’ and Dositheus’ take on John VIII’s papal claims is that, while they loudly complained about these claims contradicting a “truly orthodox” view of the pope, the eastern bishops who were actually present at Constantinople 879 did no such thing. In fact, when the papal legates arrived at the council, here’s what went down (as Siamakis himself records):

“[T]he most pious Peter, inasmuch as he is even now with us, brings with him honorable epistles from the most holy Pope John.”

The most holy Patriarch Photius said, “Thanks be to our good God, who preserved him and restored him unto us in peace and health. Let them enter.”

When they had entered, Photius the most holy patriarch said, “Glory to our God, to the Consubstantial and Life-giving Trinity, always, now and ever and unto the ages of ages.”

The holy Council rejoined, “Amen,” and when the prayer had been done according to the custom, Photius, our most holy master and œcumenical patriarch, embraced and kissed Peter the most God-fearing presbyter and those with him, adding, “God brought you here well. May the Lord accept your labour; may He bless and hallow your souls and bodies; and may He also accept the care and concern of our most holy brother and concelebrant and spiritual father, the most blessed Pope John.”

[24] Peter, the most pious presbyter, cardinal and representative of the most holy Pope John, stated, “Blessed be God, for we have found your holiness in good health; Saint Peter is visiting you.”

Photius the most holy patriarch said, “May Christ our God, through Peter the chief of the Apostles, whom your piety has commemorated, have mercy on us all and prove us worthy of His Kingdom.” Peter the most pious presbyter and cardinal said, “The most holy and œcumenical Pope John bows down before your holiness.” Photius the most holy patriarch replied, “We in turn bow down before him with cordial yearning; and we beseech God that his holy prayers and precious love be granted unto us.”

The Acts of the Eighth Œcumenical Council, trans. Gregory Heers, p. 183.

For the eastern bishops at the 879 council, including Photius himself, Pope John VIII was their “spiritual father.” When the papal legate told Photius that, through the letters of Pope John, “Saint Peter is visiting you,” Photius received this with joy: “May Christ our God, through Peter the chief of the Apostles, whom your piety has commemorated, have mercy on us all and prove us worthy of His Kingdom.” Unlike Siamakis, Photius didn’t rebuke John VIII for “identifying him[self] with Christ and Peter.”22 While Dositheus II of Jerusalem dared to say that “sin lies with the author” of these papal claims,23 Photius called the author of these claims “our most holy brother and concelebrant and spiritual father, the most blessed Pope John.”24

The Truth About the Papal Claims

Recall Sorin’s original argument: “for almost every quote [in the early Church] exalting Rome, there’s a corresponding quote to other major Sees.” This isn’t a claim that’s original to Sorin; it’s used quite frequently by anti-Catholic polemicists seeking to “disprove” the papacy. However, as I’ve documented throughout this article, not a single quote Sorin provides says anything about another See (1) uniquely inheriting the ministry of apostolic headship that our Lord entrusted to St. Peter in Matthew 16, Luke 22, and John 21, or (2) possessing this headship until the end of time. These are the two points that, as I will argue below, constitute the essence of the papal claims in the first millennium. Indeed, these are the points I was expecting Sorin to prove were predicated of “everyone and anyone” in the first millennium. Yet he couldn’t provide even one example of these claims being made of any See except for Rome. It’s thus to these Roman claims that I will now turn my attention.

Constantinople 879

Throughout this article, my “method of interpretation” has been simple. I’ve tried to read all of the passages under dispute in context, and understand what truth their authors were trying to convey. It’s with this same methodology that I’ll approach the papal claims of the first millennium. Since Sorin himself brought up the Council of Constantinople 879, and since I’ve already touched on it above, I’ll start by analyzing the papal claims made at this council, and work backwards from there.

In his letters to the council, and in addition to what’s already been quoted above, Pope John VIII wrote even more about his own papal office. But before diving into that, let’s first consider the historical context of his letters. Just over a decade prior, one of John VIII’s predecessors, Pope St. Nicholas I, had inserted himself into the controversy surrounding the deposition of the then patriarch of Constantinople, St. Ignatius. Believing himself to be “entitled to the last word in disputes over ecclesiastical matters as much in the East as in the West,”25 St. Nicholas wrote the following to Emperor Michael III about why Constantinople should have never dared to cause such a controversy without involving Rome:

If you have not heard us, it remains for you to be with us out of necessity, such as our Lord Jesus Christ has commanded those to be considered, who disdained to hear the Church of God, especially since the privileges of the Roman Church, built on Blessed Peter by the word of Christ, deposited in the Church herself, observed in ancient times and celebrated by the sacred and universal Synods, and venerated jointly by the entire Church, can by no means [be] infringed upon, by no means changed; for the foundation which God has established, no human effort has the power to destroy, and what God has determined, remains firm and strong…

Thus the privileges granted to this holy Church by Christ, not given by the Synod, but now only cele brated and venerated… Since, according to the canons, where there is a greater authority, the judgment of the inferiors must be brought to it to be annulled, or to be substantiated, certainly it is evident that the judgment of the Apostolic See, of whose authority there is none greater, is to be refused by no one. If indeed they wish the canon to be appealed to any part of the world; from it, however, no one may be permitted to appeal... We do not deny that the opinion of this See can be changed for the better, when either something shall have been stealthily snatched from it, or by the very consideration of age or time, or by a dispensation of grave necessity, it shall have decided to regulate something. We beseech you, however, never question the judgment of the Church of God; that indeed bears no prejudgment on your power, since it begs eternal divinity for its own stability, and it beseeches in constant prayer for your well being and eternal salvation.

St. Nicholas I, from epistle (8) “Proposueramus quidem” to Michael the Emperor, 865, in The Sources of Catholic Dogma, eds. Denzinger and Rahner, 133.

Pope St. Nicholas, a predecessor of Pope John VIII, isn’t ambiguous in the slightest. He expressly states that the power he has to exercise universal and immediate jurisdiction over the East was “granted to this holy Church [of Rome] by Christ, not given by the Synod.” The privileges of Rome were “built on Blessed Peter by the word of Christ,” and this “foundation which God has established, no human effort has the power to destroy.” It’s because of these divine prerogatives that “the judgment of the Apostolic See, of whose authority there is none greater, is to be refused by no one.” Remember the context: Nicholas is claiming this as the basis upon which he’s inserting himself into the ecclesiastical affairs of the East! This is no time for empty honorifics. Pope Nicholas meant business, and not a serious scholar out there doubts this.

With this background in mind, it’s obvious that John VIII was aware of the papal claims of his predecessor. If he wished to condemn them, as the Eastern Orthodox do today, he certainly could have. Yet he chose not to. Instead, when it was most conducive to the peace of the Church to restore Photius to the See of Constantinople, Pope John wanted to make sure that everyone was aware that this was happening by the very papal authority that St. Nicholas had used to initially get Photius deposed:

Not only to these deposed ones, though they were of such sort and some of them came from heresy, did this apostolic see [Rome] extend a helping hand, but also to orthodox hierarchs and patriarchs who had taken refuge in her, just as the most pious Photius even now, and she came to the aid of them that were calling upon her succor. Ye all know the great Athanasius, bishop of Alexandria, Cyril and Polychronius of Jerusalem, John, whom your love calls the Goldenmouth, and Flavian of Constantinople; for when these had been deposed and renounced by councils and had run under the lee of the holy church of the Romans, this apostolic throne recommended and restored them to their former honour. If, therefore, those that got their ordination from the Donatists and those that got it from Bonosus, having been driven out of the courtyard of the orthodox Church by a multitudinous council, are once more received by another council and are enrolled among the priests, so that the Church of God may remain unsundered, pure and free of schisms (for there is nought so abominable and hateful to behold in the eyes of God as the swarm of schisms arising in the Church of God, and nought more delightful or more beloved to His goodness as a Church preserving Her wholeness in love for God and in onemindedness with neighbour), much more must men eminent in the orthodox Faith, renowned for holiness of life and exactitude of conversation, and almost not even so far as to commit works [worthy] of penance, not be despised as being responsible, weighed down by the yoke of penance, but rather they are to be gladly accepted in accordance with their former honour. [17] For this apostolic throne, having received once for all the keys of the kingdom of the heavens from the first and great high priest Jesus Christ through the chief of the apostles Peter, to whom the Lord said, “I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven,” and “whomsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whomsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven,” has complete authority both to bind and to loose and, according to the prophet Jeremiah, to root out and to plant.

Wherefore we also, employing the authority of the chief of the apostles Peter, together with the entirety of our most holy church, do exhort you, and through you also our most holy brethren and concelebrant patriarchs, of Alexandria, of Antioch, of Jerusalem, and the other hierarchs and priests and the whole fullness of the church of the Constantinopolitans, to agree and become of one mind with us, or rather with God, in all matters about which ye inquired; and first, to accept Photius the most admirable and pious hierarch of God and patriarch, our brother and concelebrant, sharer and partaker and heir of communion with the holy church of the Romans.

The Acts of the Eighth Œcumenical Council, trans. Gregory Heers, p. 204-5.

Pope John begins by giving the Greeks a history lesson. He recounts several episodes in Church history when previous “orthodox hierarchs and patriarchs” who had been “deposed and renounced by councils” took “refuge” in the Church of Rome. Whether it was Ss. Athanasius, Cyril, or John Chrysostom, “this apostolic throne [Rome] recommended and restored them to their former honour.” Why, in John VIII’s mind, could Rome do such a thing as overturn any judgment of any council in the world? He gladly explains. It’s because “this apostolic throne,” i.e. Rome, “having received once for all the keys of the kingdom of the heavens from the first and great high priest Jesus Christ through the chief of the apostles Peter, to whom the Lord said, ‘I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven…’ has complete authority both to bind and to loose and, according to the prophet Jeremiah, to root out and to plant.” It’s with this very “authority of the chief of the apostles Peter” that Pope John ultimately declares Photius to be the lawful patriarch of Constantinople.

John VIII’s legates would even go on to reinforce their master’s papal claims by stating that the successor of St. Peter is the one through whom all pastors, including Photius, derive their authority:

Procopius, the most God-beloved archbishop of Caesarea in Cappadocia said, “He [Metrophanes of Smyrna] oftentimes excuses himself with illness and oftentimes with feebleness, and employs all craft to avoid judgement before your holiness.”

The most holy representatives of the elder Rome said, “We have given our opinion regarding him just as our most holy and œcumenical pope ordered. For let your holiness remember that we read before you the epistle of the most holy Pope John, and in it he wrote concerning the peace of the Church and the acceptance of those who come in sincere repentance, and that shepherds can loose all that is bound.”

Procopius the most God-beloved archbishop of Caesarea in Cappadocia said, “If they do not loose what is bound, what else can they do?”

Peter the most God-fearing presbyter and cardinal said, “The œcumenical and apostolic Pope John, having received this authority from Peter the chief of the apostles, has given also to the most holy Patriarch Photius the ability to bind and loose through this authority. But by these excuses of his, Metrophanes wishes to avoid the condemnation that hangs over him, yet he will not be able to escape it. For with the authority given him by the most holy Pope John, even without our presence the most holy Patriarch Photius will apply the punishment appropriate to him.”

Photius the most holy patriarch said, “What do ye think about those who from the hierarchal order enroll themselves into the station of monks? Giving themselves over to submission, can they still retain their hold on shepherdship?”

The most holy representatives said, “Among us, this thing neither exists nor is preserved. For whoever from the hierarchal order is enlisted into the station of monks, that is, of those repenting, can no longer claim for himself the dignity of high priesthood.”

The Acts of the Eighth Œcumenical Council, trans. Gregory Heers, pp. 304-5.

According to the papal legates, not only is Pope John “loosing” the sentence that his predecessor had “bound” against Photius, but he’s also giving Photius the episcopal power to bind and loose in virtue of his Petrine authority: “Pope John, having received this authority from Peter the chief of the apostles, has given also to the most holy Patriarch Photius the ability to bind and loose through this authority.” The footnote in Heers’ translation summarizes this well:

According to the cardinal, it is the pope of Rome that gives the patriarch of Constantinople the episcopal authority to bind and loose.

The Acts of the Eighth Œcumenical Council, trans. Gregory Heers, pp. 304n324.

For John VIII and his legates, the pope of Rome has received the power of binding and loosing directly from St. Peter (cf. Matt 16:18-19), and all other bishops, including patriarchs like Photius, receive this same authority from or through the pope. Any informed reader should be able to see the “ultramontanist” implications this has. If the successor of St. Peter is the source of all episcopal jurisdiction in the Church, as this language demands, then the Catholic teaching on the pope’s jurisdictional authority over the Church seems to follow. Indeed, centuries later, St. Francis de Sales would take this very “papal logic” and argue the following against the Reformers:

But I say that it is not all one to promise the keys of the kingdom [Matt 16:19] and to say, Whatever thou shalt loose [Matt 18:18], although one is an explanation of the other. And what is the difference? Certainly just that which there is between the possession of an authority and the exercise of it. It may well happen that while a king lives, his queen, or his son, may have just as much power as the king himself to chastise, absolve, make gifts, grant favors. Such person, however, will not have the scepter but only the exercise of it. He will indeed have the same authority, but not in possession, only in use and exercise. What he does will be valid, but he will not be head or king, he must recognize that his power is extraordinary, by commission and delegation, whereas the power of the king, which may be no greater, is ordinary and is his own.

So Our Lord promising the keys to S. Peter remits to him the ordinary authority and gives him that office in ownership, the exercise of which he referred to when he said, Whatsoever thou shalt loose, and so on. Now afterward, when he makes the same promise to the other Apostles, he does not give them the keys or the ordinary authority, but only gives them the use and exercise thereof. This difference is taken from the very terms of the Scripture, for to loose and to bind signifies but the action and exercise, to have the keys, the habit… See how different is the promise which Our Lord made to S. Peter from that which he made to the other Apostles. The Apostles all have the same power as S. Peter, but not in the same rank, inasmuch as they have it as delegates and agents, but S. Peter as ordinary head and permanent officer.

And in truth it was fitting that the Apostles who were to plant the Church everywhere, should all have full power and entire authority as to the use of the keys and the exercise of their powers, while it was most necessary that one among them should have charge of the keys by office and dignity, “that the Church, which is one,” as S. Cyprian says, “should by the word of the Lord be founded upon one who received the keys thereof.”

St. Francis de Sales, The Catholic Controversy, Part II, Article VI, Chapter III.

Can one truly say that John VIII would have disagreed with St. Francis’ interpretation of Matthew 16:19 and 18:18? For both men, it was Peter alone who received the keys of the kingdom, and this unique authority allows Peter’s successor, the pope, to delegate the keys’ power of binding and loosing to the other successors of the apostles. This is the very “papal logic” that would be taken up by the fathers of Vatican I when articulating their teaching on the pope’s supreme jurisdiction. Also take special note of the fact that, after Pope John’s legates stated these papal beliefs with extraordinary clarity, Photius and the eastern bishops at Constantinople 879 said absolutely nothing to contradict them. More will be said on this below.

Pope John VIII’s “ultra-papalism” is thus no different from that of Pope St. Nicholas. For both pontiffs, it was the divine promise that our Lord made to St. Peter in texts such as Matthew 16:18-19 that invested Rome with “complete authority both to bind and to loose,” “to root out and to plant.” And once again, this was no time for empty honorifics. Like Nicholas, John took the papal claims seriously. We know this because he cited them as the source of his “authority” to “loose” the sentence against Photius which his predecessor had “bound.” Even Nicholas had affirmed, “We do not deny that the opinion of this See [Rome] can be changed for the better,” it just has to be done by “the judgment of the Apostolic See” herself, “of whose authority there is none greater.”26 John was simply putting this into practice, thereby affirming the papal claims of Nicholas to de jure divino immediate and universal jurisdiction.

Fr. Francis Dvornik, the scholar whom Sorin has accepted as a reliable interpreter of Constantinople 879, says the following about John VIII’s papal claims:

These words are clear. The fact that this passage of the Latin text was retained in the Greek version and in fact underlined by the addition of the words of Jeremiah (Jer. I. 10) is very revealing of the attitude maintained by Photius and his Chancery with regard to the Roman Primacy. This famous passage of Jeremiah had been applied, in 866, by Nicholas I to the Emperor Michael: “Behold, today I give thee authority over the nations and over the kingdoms, to root them up and pull them down, to overthrow and lay them in ruins, to build them up and plant them anew.” It is more than merely probable that Photius and his Chancery knew this letter and the passage in question had not escaped their attention. This gives a par ticular interest to the addition of the passage in the Greek version of the letter of John VIII and to its application to the Pope. It is extremely regrettable that this source has been, up to the present time, completely forgotten by historians and modern theologians. But it was one of the great canonists of the Middle Ages, Ivo of Chartres, who recognized its importance and inserted it in his canonical collection. He and the other medieval canonists made use of it as an important argument to prove that the Pope, by reason of the plenitude of power which he possessed, had the power to annul any sentence whatever.

Fr. Francis Dvornik, Byzantium and the Roman Primacy, p. 112.

Not only does Dvornik affirm that John VIII was of one mind with St. Nicholas on the papacy (i.e. there’s no empty honorifics here), but he even notes something remarkable. Photius himself recognized the continuity between the papal claims of Pope John and Pope Nicholas. We know this because (for unknown reasons) Photius and his Chancery reinforced John’s papal authority by expanding the Greek version of his letter, adding the application of Jeremiah’s language of “uprooting” and “planting” to Rome. What makes this especially ironic is that, in Heers’ translation of that very passage—“[Rome has] complete authority both to bind and to loose and, according to the prophet Jeremiah, to root out and to plant”—we find the following footnote:

Arrogant boasting on the part of the pope of Rome.

The Acts of the Eighth Œcumenical Council, trans. Gregory Heers, p. 204n202.

Unfortunately for Siamakis, it turns out that “Photius and his Chancery” were actually responsible for this particular “arrogant boasting,” not John VIII. For Dvornik, their adding Jeremiah 1:10 to Pope John’s citation of Matthew 16:19 is “very revealing of the attitude maintained by Photius and his Chancery with regard to the Roman Primacy.” In other words, according to the very scholar cited by Sorin in his debate, even Photius himself ended up signing off on the papal claims as substantive, not meaningless flattery.

Indeed, this sheds light on why one has to wait until after the Great Schism in order to see explicit condemnations of John VIII’s teachings from the East. As shown above, Siamakis was joined by Dositheus II of Jerusalem (d. 1707) in taking issue with the papal claims that weren’t condemned by Photius and Constantinople 879. Dositheus’ rationalization was that the council fathers explicitly rejected Pope John’s papalism:

After the pope’s [John VIII’s] epistles were read and the representatives of the bishop of Rome had asked the Council if they accepted them, the latter replied that they accept as many [parts of the epistles] as are contained in right and lawful speech, and not simply that they accept them, as had happened at the other Ecumenical Councils. Yet it must be said, first, that at the Council in Chalcedon Leo’s epistle is heavily scrutinized, as is Agatho’s in the Sixth and Hadrian’s in the Seventh. See those places and note especially that at that time also, the fathers discerningly accepted the things that had to do with the issues which the Councils were facing, but they did not also accept everything that the popes or others said about themselves…

Therefore, the epistles were accepted for what they said concerning those matters for which the Council had been convened, which were right and lawful; the Council, however, did not accept the irrational things, the demand that they leave Bulgaria to the bishop of Rome and the pope’s excessive and uncanonical words concerning the Roman church. In fact, they expressly rejected them, and the sin lies with the author and not with them that did not accept.

Dositheus II of Jerusalem, qtd. in The Acts of the Eighth Œcumenical Council, trans. Gregory Heers, pp. 376-7.

Dositheus thus makes an argument that nobody prior the Great Schism felt the need to; and it’s wrong. It’s manifestly not the case that Photius and the council of 879 “expressly rejected” the papal teachings of John VIII.

As shown above, Photius and his Chancery weren’t afraid to edit the Greek versions of Pope John’s letters. In fact, Dvornik documents how “the Patriarchal Chancery” made “fairly numerous” alterations to John’s letters.27 They “paraphrased the introduction” of his letter to Emperor Basil, “which was too severe.” They also “considerably improved upon the Pope’s compliments paid to the wisdom of the Emperor and of his sons.” They removed all praise of St. Ignatius and the previous council of 869. However, “what is curious” according to Dvornik “is that the Pope’s emphasis on the primacy of his See has scarcely been touched.” Indeed, “the Greek version, for all its doctoring, has preserved some expressions endorsing the Roman thesis of the primacy, which John VIII appealed to in the original.”

Photius was perfectly fine voicing his disagreements with Rome, and even manipulating conciliar documents to do so. Yet despite that, he chose to leave the essence of John VIII’s (and, by extension, Nicholas I’s) papal claims untouched. Those claims being that (1) the pope of Rome has inherited the supreme authority over the Church that our Lord gave to St. Peter, and (2) that “no human effort has the power to destroy” this Roman primacy.28 At one point, Photius even strengthened these claims by adding an additional biblical basis for them. What is one to conclude from this other than that Photius and the council of 879 didn’t “expressly reject” papal supremacy as it was laid out by Pope John and his legates? What is one to conclude other than that Dositheus’ assessment of the council, which is (in my opinion) the only assessment that could possibly save Eastern Orthodoxy, is wrong?

As a final remark on this subject, here’s what I find deeply fascinating about Dositheus’ gloss on the events of Constantinople 879: he clearly sees the connection between the papal claims of John VIII and those made in the letters of St. Agatho to the Sixth Ecumenical Council, and Hadrian I to the Seventh Ecumenical Council. Dositheus seems to denounce them all as “excessive and uncanonical words concerning the Roman church.”29 He even says that “sin lies with the author” of the claims made by John VIII, which would consequently extend to Agatho and Hadrian as well. Unlike modern Eastern Orthodox apologists (such as Alex Sorin), Dositheus didn’t believe that these sources contained “meaningless flattery” or “empty honorifics.” The first millennium popes meant what they said, and as Dositheus inadvertently attests, the East knew this but chose to remain silent.

Hadrian’s Letter to Nicaea II

That makes for a perfect segue into the next prominent example of the papal claims I’d like to discuss: the letter of Pope Hadrian to the Seventh Ecumenical Council. As noted, Dositheus so strongly disagreed with the content of this letter that he grouped it in a series of papal letters that could not possibly have been accepted by an Ecumenical Council. Let’s see why a post-schism Eastern Orthodox patriarch would so strongly oppose a letter that was, in fact, accepted by an Ecumenical Council.

In his letter to Emperor Constantine VI, which was read out loud at Nicaea II, Pope Hadrian I taught the following:

If you persevere in that orthodox Faith in which you have begun, and the sacred and venerable images be by your means erected again in those parts, as by the lord, the Emperor Constantine of pious memory, and the blessed Helen, who promulgated the orthodox Faith, and exalted the holy Catholic and Apostolic Roman Church your spiritual mother, and with the other orthodox Emperors venerated it as the head of all Churches, so will your Clemency, that is protected of God, receive the name of another Constantine, and another Helen, through whom at the beginning the holy Catholic and Apostolic Church derived strength, and like whom your own imperial fame is spread abroad by triumphs, so as to be brilliant and deeply fixed in the whole world. But the more, if following the traditions of the orthodox Faith, you embrace the judgment of the Church of blessed Peter, chief of the Apostles, and, as of old your predecessors the holy Emperors acted, so you, too, venerating it with honour, love with all your heart his Vicar, and if your sacred majesty follow by preference their orthodox Faith, according to our holy Roman Church. May the chief of the Apostles himself, to whom the power was given by our Lord God to bind and remit sins in heaven and earth, be often your protector, and trample all barbarous nations under your feet, and everywhere make you conquerors. For let sacred authority lay open the marks of his dignity, and how great veneration ought to be shown to his, the highest See, by all the faithful in the world. For the Lord set him who bears the keys of the kingdom of heaven as chief over all, and by Him is he honoured with this privilege, by which the keys of the kingdom of heaven are entrusted to him. He, therefore, that was preferred with so exalted an honour was thought worthy to confess that Faith on which the Church of Christ is founded. A blessed reward followed that blessed confession, by the preaching of which the holy universal Church was illumined, and from it the other Churches of God have derived the proofs of Faith. For the blessed Peter himself, the chief of the Apostles, who first sat in the Apostolic See, left the chiefship of his Apostolate, and pastoral care, to his successors, who are to sit in his most holy seat forever. And that power of authority, which he [Peter] received from the Lord God our Saviour, he too bestowed and delivered by divine command to the Pontiffs, his successors.

Translated by Henry Percival. From Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, Vol. 14. Edited by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace. (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1900.) Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. <http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3819.htm>.

Notice how this claim to divine headship over the Church is different from all of the alleged examples of “empty honorifics” cited by Sorin. Recall that, in the case of St. Meletius of Antioch, St. Basil wrote that he was the head over certain Churches in the East, since he was the patriarch of Antioch, one of the primatial eastern Sees. Moreover, in his letters that we examined, Basil doesn’t actually give any explanation for why the See of Antioch holds its rank among the Churches of the East; that’s just not a subject about which he felt the need to comment.

Similarly, remember how Ss. Basil and Gregory considered St. Athanasius to be the moral or spiritual head over the Church, not because of any unique authority that he inherited from his episcopal See, but because of the heroic virtue with which God invested him. Once again, there was nothing even close to a claim that Athanasius inherited an immovable divine prerogative through the See of Alexandria.

All of this is radically different from what Pope Hadrian claims about Rome. First, let’s consider the context of his letter. Unlike St. Basil, an eastern bishop who wrote to another eastern bishop about an eastern affair, Hadrian, the patriarch of the West, is writing to an entire council of eastern bishops gathered with their eastern emperor. Any talk of “headship” in this context clearly extends beyond Hadrian’s headship over the Western Church. Indeed, if you’re one of the most powerful men in the Christian West, you wouldn’t write to the most powerful man in the Christian East, the Byzantine emperor, that your See is his “spiritual mother” and “the head of all Churches” unless you meant what you said.

Second, unlike Sorin’s “empty honorifics” examples, Hadrian actually provides an explanation for why his See stands at the helm of the Church. It’s because (1) “the Lord set him who bears the keys of the kingdom of heaven,” i.e. St. Peter, “as chief over all” of the apostles, and (2) “blessed Peter himself, the chief of the Apostles, who first sat in the Apostolic See [of Rome], left the chiefship of his Apostolate, and pastoral care, to his successors, who are to sit in his most holy seat forever.” This is quite self-explanatory. For Hadrian, our Lord established Peter as the head over all of the apostles, and since Peter left his office of headship in the Roman Church, the bishop of Rome, Peter’s successor, will be the head over all of the Churches until the end of time. This even strengthens the point that Hadrian literally believed himself to be the head over the entire world, since he believes his headship is identical to “the chiefship of” Peter’s “Apostolate” over the entire college of apostles.

This is wholly unlike the claims that St. Basil made about St. Meletius, or Ss. Basil and Gregory made about St. Athanasius, or the claims that St. Ignatius made about various first century Churches. In none of those examples do we find a See other than Rome inheriting the “authority” of the chief apostle “by divine command,” much less anything about this “chiefship” remaining in another See “forever.” Thus, if there was evidence to support the claim that “for almost every quote exalting Rome, there’s a corresponding quote to other major Sees,” Sorin simply didn’t provide it.

However, despite all of this, there will still be some Eastern Orthodox apologists who claim that Hadrian’s words were “empty honorifics” or “mere flattery,” or that they mean just about anything other than what they clearly state. What do I have to say to those who make these claims?

I would simply point out that I’ve never seen an Eastern Orthodox theologian or apologist who’s familiar with the sources make this argument. I’m not saying they’re not out there (there’s certainly a lot of Eastern Orthodox material that hasn’t been translated into English), I just haven’t seen it. The Eastern Orthodox scholar Fr. Laurent Cleenewerck, for example, recognizes that, because of Hadrian’s letter, Nicaea II “constitutes the highest point of recognition of what we can call ‘Roman Catholic ecclesiology’ in the East.”30 Fr. Vladimir Guetee, a Catholic priest who converted to Eastern Orthodoxy in the 19th century, concluded from this letter that Pope Hadrian “is the true creator of the modern Papacy.”31 Once again, Dositheus II of Jerusalem implied that Hadrian’s letter contained “irrational… excessive and uncanonical words concerning the Roman church,” and that “sin lies with [its] author.”32 Even the polemicist Craig Truglia recognizes that Hadrian’s words can’t be mere flattery, and instead tries to argue that his papal teachings were later interpolations.33 He’s incorrect about that,34 but you get the point: Eastern Orthodox writers who are familiar with the sources know that dismissing Hadrian’s teachings as “empty honorifics” isn’t a serious position to hold.

Moreover, Erick Ybarra makes a few simple yet powerful points against the “empty honorifics” interpretation of Hadrian:

In Pope Hadrian’s epistle to the Emperors, the Pope complains about the Patriarch of Constantinople using the title “Ecumenical Patriarch” in the following words:

“We were astonished that in the imperial injunction you issued concerning the patriarch of the imperial city, namely Tarasios, we find him there called ‘ecumenical’ [patriarch]. We do not know whether this was written through the inexperience of the notaries or the schismatic heresy of wicked men, but we now urge your most clement and imperial authority that he should not be called ‘ecumenical’ in the sequence of your writings, because this is contrary to the regulations of the holy canons and what is laid down by the traditions of the holy fathers. Secondly, save by the authority of our holy catholic and apostolic church, as is patent to all, he never had the right to have this name, since (assuredly) if he were styled ‘ecumenical’ above his superior the holy Roman church, which is the head of all the churches of God, he would manifestly be exposed as a rebel against the holy councils and a heretic. For if he is ‘ecumenical’ he must possess primacy over even the see of our own church which all the Christian faithful will clearly find absurd, because primatial authority everywhere on earth was given by the redeemer of the world himself to the blessed apostle Peter. Through the same apostle (who, though unworthy, we represent) the holy catholic and apostolic Roman church has held till now and will hold for all time primacy and sovereign authority, in such a way that if (which we do not credit) anyone calls him ‘ecumenical’ or assents to this, he should know that he has no part in the orthodox faith and is a rebel against our holy catholic and apostolic church.” (Price, The Acts of the Second Councils of Nicaea 787, 171-72)

From this, three clear reasons stick out against the theory that Hadrian was simply stating empty honorifics for himself.

In the first place, the Pope here is drawing out an error that he thinks is real, and you do not confront something that is real with something unreal. Therefore, Hadrian’s description of Petrine supremacy is, in his mind, factual. As a friend once told me, you don’t correct 2+2=5 with 2+2=3, and so you can’t correct an error with an acclaimed error (in reality). Moreover, there would be no reason to up-play the magnitude of papal power in order to convince Constantinople to disuse a title that makes one sound as if they have a high magnitude of power. If the goal was simply to convince the Patriarch of Constantinople that such titles are wrong, then down-playing Roman power would have been more conducive (i.e. no one should be making such lofty claims). However, Hadrian up-plays the Petrine supremacy of the Roman See, and because this has no intrinsic anti-papal motivations, Hadrian understands the description of Petrine supremacy to be factual rather than exaggerated unreality.

In the 2^nd place, if the Byzantines understood the Papal claims of Hadrian to have simply been “empty honorifics”, hyperbolic exaggeration “with no application in reality”, and merely unrealistic literary devices, then they would have had no motivation to remove those claims from the Latin original of the Pope’s letter to the Emperors [which they later did]…

In the 3^rd place, most scholars do not take the view that Hadrian was producing hollow exaggerations for the sake of literary style, political ploys, or diplomatic games (i.e. wheeling and dealing)…

Erick Ybarra, “Response to Objections Concerning the Papal Claims of Pope Hadrian I at the 2nd Council of Nicaea (787).”

So much more could be said about Hadrian’s letter to the emperors at Nicaea II,35 especially with regard to the Greek versus Latin versions. For a more extensive discussion of this subject, see Levi Bende, “Contra Craigium: Refuting Craig Truglia on Latin JE 2448.” But I’ll leave you with this. Hadrian I’s teachings, which were accepted by Nicaea II, represent the same essence of the papal claims that we saw in the teachings of Nicholas I and John VIII. Namely, that the pope (1) inherits the divine authority that our Lord gave to St. Peter to rule the whole Church, and (2) will possess this “seat” of authority until the end of time. I will say it yet again: not a single quote that Sorin presented said anything like this about any See other than Rome.

St. Agatho’s Letter to Constantinople 681

The next example of the papal claims in the first millennium that I’ll discuss is another one that’s been touched on above: the letter of Pope St. Agatho to the Council of Constantinople 681. Since I’ve already written about this letter quite extensively elsewhere,36 I’ll try to keep my comments brief. First, let’s look at the relevant section of St. Agatho’s letter:

And therefore I beseech you with a contrite heart and rivers of tears, with prostrated mind, deign to stretch forth your most clement right hand to the Apostolic doctrine which the co-worker of your pious labours, the blessed apostle Peter, has delivered, that it be not hidden under a bushel, but that it be preached in the whole earth more shrilly than a bugle: because the true confession thereof for which Peter was pronounced blessed by the Lord of all things, was revealed by the Father of heaven, for he received from the Redeemer of all himself, by three commendations, the duty of feeding the spiritual sheep of the Church; under whose protecting shield, this Apostolic Church of his has never turned away from the path of truth in any direction of error, whose authority, as that of the Prince of all the Apostles, the whole Catholic Church, and the Ecumenical Synods have faithfully embraced, and followed in all things; and all the venerable Fathers have embraced its Apostolic doctrine, through which they as the most approved luminaries of the Church of Christ have shone; and the holy orthodox doctors have venerated and followed it, while the heretics have pursued it with false criminations and with derogatory hatred. This is the living tradition of the Apostles of Christ, which his Church holds everywhere, which is chiefly to be loved and fostered, and is to be preached with confidence, which conciliates with God through its truthful confession, which also renders one commendable to Christ the Lord, which keeps the Christian empire of your Clemency, which gives far-reaching victories to your most pious Fortitude from the Lord of heaven, which accompanies you in battle, and defeats your foes; which protects on every side as an impregnable wall your God-sprung empire, which throws terror into opposing nations, and smites them with the divine wrath, which also in wars celestially gives triumphal palms over the downfall and subjection of the enemy, and ever guards your most faithful sovereignty secure and joyful in peace.

For this is the rule of the true faith, which this spiritual mother of your most tranquil empire, the Apostolic Church of Christ, has both in prosperity and in adversity always held and defended with energy; which, it will be proved, by the grace of Almighty God, has never erred from the path of the apostolic tradition, nor has she been depraved by yielding to heretical innovations, but from the beginning she has received the Christian faith from her founders, the princes of the Apostles of Christ, and remains undefiled unto the end, according to the divine promise of the Lord and Saviour himself, which he uttered in the holy Gospels to the prince of his disciples: saying, Peter, Peter, behold, Satan has desired to have you, that he might sift you as wheat; but I have prayed for you, that (your) faith fail not. And when you are converted, strengthen your brethren. Let your tranquil Clemency therefore consider, since it is the Lord and Saviour of all, whose faith it is, that promised that Peter’s faith should not fail and exhorted him to strengthen his brethren, how it is known to all that the Apostolic pontiffs, the predecessors of my littleness, have always confidently done this very thing: of whom also our littleness, since I have received this ministry by divine designation, wishes to be the follower, although unequal to them and the least of all. For woe is me, if I neglect to preach the truth of my Lord, which they have sincerely preached. Woe is me, if I cover over with silence the truth which I am bidden to give to the exchangers, i.e., to teach to the Christian people and imbue it therewith.

The Letter of Pope St. Agatho. Translated by Henry Percival. From Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, Vol. 14. Edited by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace. (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1900.) Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. <http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3813.htm>.

So much has already been said about this letter,37 but here’s what I want to highlight: almost all of Agatho’s papal teachings are nothing more than interpretations of Sacred Scripture. For example, referencing John 21, Agatho notes how St. Peter “received from the Redeemer of all himself, by three commendations, the duty of feeding the spiritual sheep of the Church.” According to the pontiff, this scriptural commission explains why “this Apostolic Church of his,” i.e. Rome, “has never turned away from the path of truth in any direction of error.” How do we know that “this Apostolic Church” refers to Rome as opposed to the universal Church? Because of the very next statement: “this Apostolic Church… whose authority, as that of the Prince of all the Apostles, the whole Catholic Church, and the Ecumenical Synods have faithfully embraced, and followed in all things.” In context, Agatho makes an explicit distinction between “this Apostolic Church,” i.e. Rome, and “the whole Catholic Church.”

Remember, St. Agatho is just interpreting Scripture. In his mind, our Lord’s threefold commission to St. Peter in John 21 entails the See of Rome shepherding the whole Church and being free from error. Indeed, it’s precisely because of this “authority” which Rome has from “the Prince of all the Apostles” that “the whole Catholic Church” must “faithfully embrac[e]” the teachings of Rome, and follow her “in all things.” Could empty honorifics be the basis upon which the whole Church could be compelled to make an act of faith? Surely not. Only a literal and real divine promise to protect the Church of Rome from heresy could justify such a thing.

The pope’s interpretation of Luke 22 goes even further than this. For Agatho, when our Lord spoke to St. Peter saying, “Peter, Peter, behold, Satan has desired to have you, that he might sift you as wheat; but I have prayed for you, that your faith fail not” (Lk 22:31-32), what He was doing was ensuring that all “the Apostolic pontiffs, the predecessors of my littleness,” i.e. the popes of Rome, would never fail to teach the true faith. This is why, St. Agatho reasons, “the Apostolic Church of Christ,” which we know is Rome since its “founders” are “the princes of the Apostles of Christ,” Peter and Paul, “remains undefiled unto the end, according to the divine promise of the Lord and Saviour himself.”

It doesn’t get more clear than this. Like Hadrian I, Nicholas I, and John VIII after him, Agatho believed that the pope of Rome uniquely inherits the divine commissions that our Lord gave to St. Peter in texts such as John 21 and Luke 22; and these prerogatives will remain in the Roman See “unto the end [of time], according to the divine promise of the Lord and Saviour himself.” Notice that, in context, this is the basis upon which Agatho “beseech[es]” the emperor “to stretch forth [his] most clement right hand to the Apostolic doctrine which the co-worker of [his] pious labours, the blessed apostle Peter, has delivered.” The divine promises that Christ made to St. Peter and his successors in Rome are what should give the emperor certainty in signing off on the pope’s teachings. Since one cannot have theological faith in empty honorifics, Agatho’s papal claims cannot be empty honorifics.

Indeed, if what Agatho writes in his letter doesn’t convey his belief that the primary and literal meaning of Luke 22 and John 21 is that the Church of Rome will forever remain undefiled from heresy, and that the popes of Rome will always be empowered by God to shepherd the whole Church, then is there anything Agatho could have ever written that would convey such a meaning? No, there’s not. If directly saying that Jesus Christ promised to protect the Church of Rome and her bishop from heresy doesn’t mean that Jesus Christ promised to protect the Church of Rome and her bishop from heresy, then up is down, left is right, and blue is red!

This is why there’s no serious scholar who believes that Agatho thought of the papal claims in terms of “empty honorifics.” Fr. Laurent Cleenewerck, for example, writes that “Pope Agatho had reaffirmed Rome’s traditional claim to Petrine infallibility in his letter to the Council.”38 Even polemicists like Truglia can admit, “it seems to me pretty obvious that Pope Agatho is saying that ‘this Apostolic Church’ (i.e. Rome) is infallible.”39 With this in mind, consider how the Byzantine emperor himself replied to St. Agatho’s teachings in his own letter to the pontiff’s successor, St. Leo II:

The letter of Pope Agatho, who is with the saints ... we ordered it to be read in the hearing of all, and we beheld in it as in a mirror the image of sound and unsullied faith. We compared it with the voices of the Gospels and of the Apostles, and set beside it the decisions and definitions of the holy ecumenical Synods, and compared the quotations it contained with the precepts of the Fathers, and finding nothing out of harmony, we perceived in it the word of the true confession [i.e., of Peter] unaltered. And with the eyes of our understanding we saw it as it were the very ruler of the Apostolic choir, Peter himself, declaring the mystery of the whole dispensation... Glory be to God, who does wondrous things, who has kept safe the faith among you unharmed... For how should He not do so in that rock on which He founded His Church, and prophesied that the gates of hell, all the ambushes of heretics, should not prevail against it? From it, as from the vault of heaven, the word of the true confession flashed forth, and enlightened the souls of the lovers of Christ.

Mansi 11.713-18. Letter to Leo II, in Dom John Chapman, The Condemnation of Pope Honorius, 105-07, qtd. in Erick Ybarra, The Papacy, p. 525.

Not only does Emperor Constantine IV affirm, with the Sixth Ecumenical Council, that Agatho’s letter was wholly orthodox, but he even affirms that it couldn’t not have been orthodox because of the promise that Jesus Christ made to Peter in Matthew 16:18-19. The emperor literally says that this biblical text “prophesied that the gates of hell, all the ambushes of heretics, should not prevail against” the Apostolic See of Rome, which is the “rock on which [Christ] founded His Church.” Consider, is Constantine IV merely using imagery from Matthew 16:18-19 to describe his belief in Rome’s orthodoxy, or is he actually interpreting this text as a prophecy of Rome’s doctrinal inerrancy? We don’t have to guess, he directly tells us. In Matthew 16:18-19, the Lord “prophesied that the gates of hell, all the ambushes of heretics, should not prevail against” Rome, “the rock on which He founded His Church.”

Are we to believe that what the emperor really meant by this is that our Lord didn’t prophesy Rome’s doctrinal inerrancy in Matthew 16:18-19, He didn’t establish Rome as the rock of His Church, and that Rome is just like any other See that professes the orthodox faith? I’m sorry, but I just can’t take that seriously. If the emperor read a text that clearly interprets John 21 and Luke 22 as prophecies of Rome’s doctrinal inerrancy (i.e. Agatho’s letter), declared that text to be the voice of St. Peter himself, and then provided his own interpretation of Matthew 16 that ends with the same conclusion that Jesus Christ Himself prophesied Rome’s doctrinal inerrancy, then what am I supposed to think? That this man didn’t believe that Christ promised doctrinal inerrancy to the Apostolic See of Rome? Nonsense.

We therefore see yet another papal claim for which Mr. Sorin found no “equivalent.” In none of the quotes provided by Sorin do we have any See other than Rome claiming that her bishop (1) has inherited the divine authority that our Lord gave to St. Peter, and (2) will possess this authority until the end of time. St. Agatho was clear that these were his foundational beliefs about the papacy, and no eastern father at Constantinople 681 took offense, or tried to claim that every bishop or patriarch has those prerogatives too.40 No, they embraced his letter with joy. St. Agatho’s letter to the Sixth Council thus provides evidence for an observable, historical trend: pre-schism eastern Christians don’t behave the same way towards the papal claims as post-schism eastern Christians. This is despite the fact that nothing substantively changed about the papal claims between the years 681 and 1054.

Philip the Presbyter at Ephesus 431

The last papal claims we’ll be looking at are those that were made by Philip the presbyter at the Third Ecumenical Council (Ephesus 431). These are important not only for our debates with the Eastern Orthodox, but also with the Oriental Orthodox since their theological hero—St. Cyril of Alexandria—was at this council and accepted Philip’s papal claims. However, before diving into that, I wanted to take a step back and discuss an overarching “theme” I’ve noticed among anti-papal critics, especially those who are Eastern Orthodox: they just can’t get their story straight.

To illustrate what I mean, consider Pope Hadrian’s letter. Recall that Patriarch Dositheus tried to downplay the significance of this letter by claiming that it was “heavily scrutinized,” and, like the letters of Popes Ss. Agatho and Leo, “[the council] fathers discerningly accepted the things that had to do with the issues which the Councils were facing, but they did not also accept everything that the popes or others said about themselves.”41 What we learn is that, when confronted with an ancient papal claim, the Eastern Orthodox’s first line of defense is to deny that the claim was accepted by the East (even if there’s no good evidence to support this). On this view, it’s perfectly acceptable that the West taught heresy for centuries before the schism—as long as the East was opposed to it, even if silently, everything is fine.

But eventually this argument gets seen for what it is: weak. How can you have the popes claiming “heretical” things about themselves for centuries before the Great Schism and the East says nothing? It would be one thing if the popes had kept these teachings to themselves, but to have them announcing their papalism to the East at several ecumenical councils for several centuries, and to have the East say nothing to directly contradict them? That looks really bad. In fact, it lends credence to the Catholic claim that it was the Greek East, not the Latin West, that changed its attitude towards the papacy in the years following 1054. So another explanation is needed, one that “frees” the pre-schism West from ever having taught the kind of papalism that the medieval East would condemn. Enter, apologists like Craig Truglia.

Mr. Truglia looks at Hadrian’s letter and claims that since it “reinterpret[s] Mt 16:18 so that the ecclesiastical power connoted by Peter’s keys can be understood as a ‘singular honor’ given to the Pope of Rome,” and since “any claim to Rome being given the keys exclusively is without earlier attestation—particularly in the Ecumenical Councils,”42 it must have been interpolated! Ah, that makes more sense. Surely “the ancient, holy, and orthodox Church of Rome,” what the Encyclical of Eastern Patriarchs of 1848 calls “the most honored part of the Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church,” wasn’t teaching a heretical kind of papalism. That was interpolated into the text centuries later!

I call this line of argumentation the “historical revisionist” route. It’s unpopular among serious academics for a reason. Indeed, to argue that applying Matthew 16:18 “exclusively” to the popes of Rome is “without earlier attestation” is absurd on its face. To prove this, let’s finally look at what this section of the present article claims to be about: Philip the presbyter’s testimony at the Third Ecumenical Council.

Philip, presbyter and legate of the Apostolic See said: We offer our thanks to the holy and venerable Synod, that when the writings of our holy and blessed pope had been read to you, the holy members by our [or your] holy voices, you joined yourselves to the holy head also by your holy acclamations. For your blessedness is not ignorant that the head of the whole faith, the head of the Apostles, is blessed Peter the Apostle. […]

There is no doubt, and in fact it has been known in all ages, that the holy and most blessed Peter, prince (ἔξαρχος) and head of the Apostles, pillar of the faith, and foundation (θεμέλιος) of the Catholic Church, received the keys of the kingdom from our Lord Jesus Christ, the Saviour and Redeemer of the human race, and that to him was given the power of loosing and binding sins: who down even to today and forever both lives and judges in his successors. The holy and most blessed pope Cœlestine, according to due order, is his successor and holds his place, and us he sent to supply his place in this holy synod, which the most humane and Christian Emperors have commanded to assemble, bearing in mind and continually watching over the Catholic faith.

Council of Ephesus (A.D. 431), Session II, “Extracts from the Acts,” Session III, “Extracts from the Acts.” Translated by Henry Percival. From Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, Vol. 14. Edited by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace. (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1900.) Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. <http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3810.htm>.

Here’s what Truglia says about this papal claim:

The Papal legate Philip during the Council of Ephesus, who emphatically spoke of then Pope Celestine’s Petrine inheritance, did not go as far as to specify Petrine inheritance as a singular honor of Rome’s. Such a claim in an Ecumenical Council, with many such Petrine sees represented, would have been an unforgivable insult. Its sudden inclusion in Anastasian JE 2448 should lead one to raise her/his eyebrow.

Craig Tuglia, “Anastasius the Librarian’s Papal Interpolations into Pope Adrian I’s Letter to the Emperors (JE 2448),” p. 16.

I can’t help but be baffled by this interpretation of Philip’s words. Specifying Petrine inheritance “as a singular honor of Rome’s” is exactly what St. Celestine’s legate did! Just read his words. He begins by lauding the bishops at Ephesus 431 for accepting “the writings of our holy and blessed pope” Celestine. Philip then tells the eastern bishops that, in doing this, “you joined yourselves to the holy head,” since “your blessedness is not ignorant that the head of the whole faith, the head of the Apostles, is blessed Peter the Apostle.” According to Philip, Pope St. Celestine is St. Peter. Union with the pope is union with Peter. Just as Peter was the singular head of the apostles, so too is the successor of Peter the singular head of the successors of the apostles.

And just in case he left any confusion about this, Philip directly clarifies:

There is no doubt, and in fact it has been known in all ages, that the holy and most blessed Peter, prince (ἔξαρχος) and head of the Apostles, pillar of the faith, and foundation (θεμέλιος) of the Catholic Church, received the keys of the kingdom from our Lord Jesus Christ, the Saviour and Redeemer of the human race, and that to him was given the power of loosing and binding sins: who down even to today and forever both lives and judges in his successors. The holy and most blessed pope Cœlestine, according to due order, is his successor and holds his place.

Council of Ephesus (A.D. 431), Session III, “Extracts from the Acts.” Translated by Henry Percival. From Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, Vol. 14. Edited by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace. (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1900.) Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. <http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3810.htm>.

When read in the full context of Philip’s statements at Ephesus 431, this makes perfect sense. The legate initially told the eastern bishops that St. Celestine is St. Peter, and that he is their head just as Peter was the head of the apostles. Naturally, this raises the question of how Celestine can claim such an identity with the Apostle Peter. Philip begins explaining this by teaching that “it has been known in all ages, that the holy and most blessed Peter, prince and head of the Apostles… received the keys of the kingdom from our Lord Jesus Christ,” and that “down even to today and forever” the Apostle Peter “both lives and judges in his successors.” From here, the explanation is simple. At this time, Pope Celestine is Peter’s “successor” and “holds his place,” which means that the Apostle Peter “lives and judges” in St. Celestine. This is why Philip could make an identity between Celestine and Peter earlier in the conciliar acts.

But couldn’t all of the bishops be the “successors” of Peter, as some Eastern Orthodox apologists claim? Only if one ignores the context of the legate’s teaching. Aside from the fact that, as noted, Philip literally identifies the pope as Peter, he also believes that the successor of Peter is the head over all of the bishops, just as Peter was the head over all of the apostles. How could every bishop be the head over every other bishop? That would be absurd. Instead, Philip is very clear that “the holy and most blessed pope Cœlestine, according to due order, is [Peter’s] successor and holds his place.” What place does the pope of Rome hold? That of being the “prince and head of the Apostles, pillar of the faith, and foundation of the Catholic Church.” Until when will he hold this place? “Down even to today and forever.”

To suggest, as Truglia does, that this isn’t “specif[ing] Petrine inheritance as a singular honor of Rome’s,” thus confuses me. Are we to believe that, in Philip’s mind, there were multiple “princes” and “heads” of the Apostles? There were many “pillars” of the faith, and “foundations” of the Catholic Church? I just don’t see it. While Philip does refer to Peter having “successors,” plural, this is in the context of Peter’s headship enduring in the Church “even to today and forever.” Since Petrine headship lasts until the end of time, but no one successor of Peter lives until the end of time, this entails there being multiple “successors” of Peter throughout history. However, at the time Philip is writing, he only identifies one Petrine “successor,” singular, and that’s “the holy and most blessed pope Cœlestine.”

Circling back to Truglia’s “interpolation theory” regarding Pope Hadrian’s letter to Nicaea II, it should be clear why those familiar with the sources don’t take it seriously. Truglia’s entire point is that because Rome never claimed an exclusive Petrine inheritance prior to Hadrian’s letter, especially not during an ecumenical council, this gives us reason to believe that Hadrian’s letter was interpolated decades after the fact. However, as demonstrated, Rome claimed exactly this kind of exclusive Petrine inheritance over 350 years before Nicaea II, at an ecumenical council no less. Clearly, that’s quite problematic for apologists like Mr. Truglia.

Now, at this point you might be thinking: what happened to “empty honorifics”? This hearkens back to what I said about anti-papal apologists not being able to keep their story straight. When Philip’s papal claims can be interpreted as not being exclusive to Rome, then they’re not empty honorifics. When Hadrian’s papal claims can be understood as later interpolations, then they’re not empty honorifics. However, when those reinterpretations are shown to be false, then and only then do these papal claims suddenly become “meaningless flattery.” How convenient.

Indeed, while Truglia believes that Philip’s papal claims, if understood literally, “in an Ecumenical Council, with many such Petrine sees represented, would have been an unforgivable insult,”43 here’s what the actual patriarch of the Petrine See of Alexandria said about Philip’s testimony:

Cyril, the bishop of Alexandria said: The professions which have been made by Arcadius and Projectus, the most holy and pious bishops, as also by Philip, the most religious presbyter of the Roman Church, stand manifest to the holy Synod. For they have made their profession in the place of the Apostolic See, and of the whole of the holy synod of the God-beloved and most holy bishops of the West.

Council of Ephesus (A.D. 431), Session III, “Extracts from the Acts.” Translated by Henry Percival. From Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, Vol. 14. Edited by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace. (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1900.) Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. <http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3810.htm>.

St. Cyril apparently had no issue with being told that St. Celestine is “the holy head” of the Church, “the head of the whole faith, the head of the Apostles,” by virtue of his unique succession from “blessed Peter the Apostle.” This begs an important question. Why did Craig Truglia, a modern Eastern Orthodox apologist, believe that Philip’s papalism would have been “an unforgivable insult” to the bishops of Ephesus 431, meanwhile the actual bishops there did nothing but praise the legate’s testimony? Hold on a second, this question sounds familiar. It’s the same one that could have been asked about any of the other papal claims discussed above.

Why do post-schism Eastern Orthodox writers like Patriarch Dositheus and Dr. Siamakis loudly object to the papal claims that John VIII made at the synod of 879, meanwhile Photius and the actual eastern bishops there said nothing to condemn them? Why do modern apologists like Truglia feel compelled to reject the papal claims of Pope Hadrian as later interpolations, meanwhile the eastern bishops at Nicaea II (who really did hear those claims) raised no objections? Why must Eastern Orthodox apologists claim that St. Agatho’s papal teachings weren’t taken seriously by Constantinople 681, meanwhile the bishops and especially the emperor there gave no explicit indication of this? All of these questions tend towards one comprehensive answer: the modern Eastern Orthodox position on the papacy is different from the position of the pre-schism Eastern Church. In other words, it was the Greeks who changed their mind about the papacy after the Great Schism, not the Latins.

Conclusion

From Pope St. Celestine I in the fifth century through St. Agatho in the seventh, Hadrian I in the eighth, and St. Nicholas I and John VIII in the ninth century, Rome’s papal teachings were consistent. According to “the ancient, holy, and orthodox Church of Rome,”44 the Roman pontiff is unique among bishops because he possesses the authority of headship over the whole Church that our Lord gave to St. Peter; and he will possess this Petrine authority until Christ returns in the glory of His Father. This really is all that was taught by Rome in 1274 at the Second Council of Lyons:

Also this same Holy Roman Church holds the highest and complete primacy and spiritual power over the universal Catholic Church which she truly and humbly recognizes herself to have received with fullness of power from the Lord Himself in Blessed Peter, the chief or head of the Apostles whose successor is the Roman Pontiff.

Gregory X 1271-1276, Council of Lyons II 1274, Ecumenical XIV (concerning the union of the Greeks), 460, in The Sources of Catholic Dogma, eds. Denzinger and Rahner, 184.

As one Eastern Orthodox apologist attests, in the eyes of the post-schism East, “Lyons II was a heretical council and was not the belief of the Orthodox Church.”45 Although he said this with respect to the dogmatization of the Filioque,46 it applies equally to Lyons II’s dogmatization of the papacy. It’s not as if Vatican I was the first council to ever teach a theology of the papacy that the Eastern Orthodox viewed as heretical. No, the first council to do that was Lyons II. And yet, as demonstrated, there are no papal teachings in that Bull of Union that weren’t loudly and explicitly claimed by Rome well before the Great Schism between the East and the West.

Since the East didn’t condemn Rome’s ecclesiology then, a Catholic may legitimately ask, why is it condemned now? Why was Rome’s papalism acceptable for well over five hundred years before the schism, but then it suddenly became “heretical” around the time the Eastern Churches began falling to the Ottoman Turks? Why is the Catholic Church’s papalism considered “the heresy above all heresies” by modern Eastern Orthodox Saints like Justin Popovich,47 yet all of the eastern bishops of the sixth century taught that papalist Rome was the See in which “the Catholic religion has always been preserved without stain,” and, “in which there is the whole and the true and the perfect solidity of the Christian religion”?48 These are questions that don’t have good “Eastern Orthodox” answers.

Finally, throughout this article I’ve shown that one of the best (modern) Eastern Orthodox answers to these questions, the “empty honorifics” argument, doesn’t work. Although I’ve repeated this several times, I’ll do it once more: the argument made by apologists like Alex Sorin that “for almost every quote [in the early Church] exalting Rome, there’s a corresponding quote to other major Sees,” is false. The papal claims of the first millennium truly were unique to Rome, and the pre-schism East’s deafening silence in the wake of those claims is truly problematic for Eastern Orthodoxy.

A few years ago I wrote an article entitled, “Excommunication: The Church’s Death Penalty.” Therein I highlighted how St. Paul’s description of “handing someone over to Satan,” i.e. excommunication, is explicitly tied to Deuteronomy’s ominous description of the death penalty: “Purge the evil person from your midst” (1 Cor 5:13 cf. Deut 13:9, 17:7, 19:19, 24:7). What this suggests is that excommunication is to the new Israel (the Church) what capital punishment was to ancient Israel. I’ve explored some of the implications of this before,1 but in this article I want to unpack the dual imagery that this connection presents: the sword and the keys.

I. The Sword

In Romans 13:1-7, St. Paul teaches that the civil authority “does not bear the sword in vain,” and that “he is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God’s wrath on the evildoer.” If one were opposed to capital punishment, writing something like this about the first century Roman Empire would be utterly irresponsible. Indeed, since we have strong external evidence that suggests that Paul affirmed Rome’s authority to execute criminals (cf. Acts 25:11), the idea that he was opposed to the death penalty strikes me as silly and anachronistic. Clearly, Paul endorses capital punishment.

However, the legitimacy of capital punishment isn’t my concern here. Rather, it’s the fact that this image of “the sword” is being used to not only justify the state’s power to execute criminals (Rom 13:5), but all of its other powers as well: “For because of this you also pay taxes, for the authorities are ministers of God, attending to this very thing” (Rom 13:6). Because the civil authority wields the sword, “you also pay taxes.” This makes good sense. If the state has a “maximal power” such as presiding over the life and death of its citizens, it would be quite strange if the state didn’t likewise have “minimal powers” such as taxation.

The principle being expressed by St. Paul is essentially, qui potest plus, potest minus, “He who can do more, can do less.” If you have the highest power in a certain realm, in this case the civil realm, all lower powers are implied as well. He who has the power to wage (just) wars and execute murderers also has the power to imprison thieves, tax citizens, and so forth. This principle is key (pun intended) to understanding the relationship between the power of the sword and the power of the keys.

II. The Keys

The image of “the keys” and its connection to ecclesiastical power comes from two places in Sacred Scripture: Matthew 16:18-19 and Matthew 18:15-20. In the former text, our Lord declares St. Peter to be the rock of His Church, gives him “the keys of the kingdom of heaven,” and declares that whatsoever he “binds” with these keys shall be “bound in heaven,” and whatsoever he “looses” shall “loosed in heaven.”2 Although the latter text doesn’t explicitly mention the keys, it nonetheless invokes their power of “binding and loosing” and directly ties it to excommunication:

If he [an unrepentant sinner] refuses to listen even to the church, let him be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector. Truly, I say to you, whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.

Matthew 18:17-18

Significantly, Matthew 16:18 and 18:17 are the only two places in the entire Bible where our Lord uses the word “church,” ekklesia. What they reveal is that the very Church that’s built upon the Apostle Peter, who alone possesses the keys of the kingdom, is the Church that has the authority to excommunicate sinners.

However, it’s clear that not everyone in the Church has the authority to excommunicate. In context, Matthew 18:15-18 directly contrasts “the church” with a mere group of believers. Since binding and loosing is tied to the authority of “the keys” in Matthew 16:18-19, it makes sense that only those with access to these keys (via Peter the key-bearer) possess the authority that comes with them. Yet there’s more to the keys than just the authority to excommunicate.

This is implied by the very description of the keys’ power: binding and loosing. Not only can the keys bind penalties such as excommunication, they can also loose penalties. Our Lord shed more light on this in John 20:23 when He declared to His apostles, “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you withhold forgiveness from any, it is withheld.” Like Matthew 16:18 and 18:17, John 20:23 also shows the apostles being given the power to “bind” and “loose,” which it glosses as “retaining” and “forgiving” sins. Indeed, the earliest patristic discussions of Matthew 16:18 and John 20:23 were directly tied to controversies surrounding the Church’s authority to forgive post-baptismal mortal sins.3

There were early Christians, likely basing themselves on biblical texts such as Hebrews 6:4-6, who believed that there was no place in the Church for sinners to repent after Holy Baptism. Others believed that maybe you could repent once if you sinned after Baptism, but that was it.4 However, for fathers such as Ss. Ambrose of Milan, Augustine of Hippo, and John Chrysostom, such a belief obviously contradicted the authority of the priesthood to forgive sins via the power of the keys.5 This is the theological framework out of which the Catholic Church’s understanding of the sacrament of Penance would develop.

III. The Keys and Canonical Penances

Now we can circle back to the connection between the sword and the keys, specifically concerning the principle of qui potest plus, potest minus. Consider that new covenant priests6 have the authority to “maximally” bind or loose sins through either excommunicating sinners or remitting the eternal punishment due to their mortal sins. If priests have these “maximal” powers in the divine court, then it follows that they likewise have “minimal” powers in this same court.

Indeed, if a priest can bind someone to a penalty such as excommunication, why wouldn’t he likewise be able to bind lesser penalties? This, I would argue, is the logic underlying the Church’s belief that priests have the authority to issue canonical penances that truly bind those to whom they’re assigned.

In the early Church, penances were almost always tied to excommunication. This is evident from texts such as the canons of St. Basil the Great (d. 379), where long periods of excommunication were assigned to penitents who sinned in various ways.7 Later Penitentials such as the canons of St. Theodore of Canterbury (d. 690) would further include long periods of prayer, fasting, and doing good works. As time went on, the Church deepened her understanding of the sacrament of Penance, which eventually impacted the way the sacrament itself was celebrated.

By the twelfth century, there was still much debate about how and when forgiveness was received in Confession. Canonists like Gratian held that forgiveness occurred at the priest’s absolution, while theologians like Peter Lombard interestingly held that it was received at the first moment of the penitent’s contrition.8 However, despite this disagreement, a growing consensus emerged about other aspects of Penance. Namely the fact that it was a sacrament, that it was truly necessary for those in mortal sin, and that it consisted of three elements: contrition, confession, and satisfaction.

Unsurprisingly, St. Thomas Aquinas beautifully synthesized the Catholic teaching on Penance during this same time period.9 He recognized, as the Church does today, that perfect contrition alone does indeed suffice for the remission of mortal sin. So why go through sacramental Penance at all? St. Thomas gives three reasons. First, you can’t actually know whether or not you have perfect contrition, and so Confession guarantees that you do since, if you didn’t, it would have been produced in you through the sacrament.10 Second, perfect contrition is always accompanied by a desire to confess one’s sins and do penance for them. Third, and this is most relevant to our discussion, one is bound to receive judgment from a priest about their sins so they can make proper satisfaction for them.

This third reason follows from the biblical texts we’ve been considering. The keys of the kingdom constitute the “ministry of reconciliation” (2 Cor 5:18) that’s been committed to the priests of the Church. They’re the ones that Christ has tasked with disciplining the people of God, “binding and loosing,” “forgiving and retaining” sins. As such, when Christians commit sins that merit discipline, then they must seek this discipline from the Church’s priests. Thankfully, excommunication isn’t the typical discipline that gets administered to penitents these days. Instead, because priests have the authority to issue maximal penances, over time they came to see that they can likewise substitute these with minimal penances when deemed proper. Priests also realized that these penances didn’t have to be fulfilled as a prerequisite for absolution, and so they began to require the penances to be done afterwards instead.

IV. The Keys and Indulgences

Just as the Church’s understanding of the keys’ power to “bind” canonical penances deepened throughout the centuries, so too did her understanding of the keys’ power to “loose” sins. Recall the principle of qui potest plus, potest minus. If new covenant priests have the authority to remit the eternal punishment due to mortal sin, then how much more should they have the authority to remit the temporal punishments due to sin? This is part of the logic that inspired the medieval Catholic Church to develop her teaching on indulgences. But before directly diving into this controversial topic, let’s first take a step back.

Only the infinitely meritorious sacrifice of Jesus Christ can remit the infinite (eternal) punishment due to mortal sin, this is true. However, the Church has always believed that our own godly merits and good works (which themselves are gifts from God) can remit the temporal punishment due to sin. This is indeed taught in Sacred Scripture, as I explain in a previous article:

As Gary Anderson has demonstrated in his book, Charity: The Place of the Poor in the Biblical Tradition, the fact that charity saves one from the punishment of sin was one of the defining features of the Old Testament’s teaching on the “heavenly treasury.” This is a concept that’s primarily derived from the wisdom literature, especially Proverbs 10:2, “Treasures gained by wickedness do not profit, but righteousness delivers from death,” and 19:17, “Whoever is merciful to the poor lends to the Lord, and he will repay him for his deed.” Importantly, these two proverbs were later tied together by Tobit 12:8-9, “It is better to give alms than to store up gold, for almsgiving saves from death, and purges all sin,” and Sirach 29:12, “Store up almsgiving in your treasury, and it will save you from every evil.” The consistent emphasis isn’t on our works meriting eternal life, but rather on our works delivering us from the temporal punishment due to sin, e.g. “death,” and “every evil.” I’d recommend reading Anderson’s book for a detailed defense of his thesis, but it’s essentially this: the New Testament follows this Old Testament teaching that, whereas sin incurs a “debt” that must be paid off, works of righteousness earn a “wage” that can pay down this debt.

As Nathan Eubank has shown in his dissertation, Wages of Righteousness: The Economy of Heaven in the Gospel According to Matthew, while the New Testament certainly does have an atonement theory wherein our Lord Jesus is the true heavenly “wage earner,” whose righteous sacrifice is able to pay the “ransom” price for those in slavery to sin (cf. Matt 20:28), Jesus’ call for His followers to earn heavenly wages is nonetheless genuine (Matt 6:19-21). In other words, the New Testament conceives of Jesus’ sacrifice as sufficient for meriting the total forgiveness of sins, yet it also affirms that our own deeds of righteousness earn a heavenly “wage” or “payment” (μισθὸς, Matt. 5:12, 6:1-2 cf. Rom 4:4) that can pay down the “debt” (ὀφειλήματα, Matt. 6:12 cf. 6:14) of sin. As Eubank puts it, “The Matthean Jesus both teaches his followers how to get out of debt and [also] earns their price of release for them, but the Gospel never addresses the question of why Jesus’ followers still have debt at all.”

Ben Bollinger (me), “Purgatory in Scripture and Tradition,” II. Righteous Deeds Remit Temporal Punishment.

This is why someone like St. Caesarius of Arles (A.D. 470-542) could teach the following without anyone in the ancient Church batting an eye:

Therefore, they [the faithful departed] may continuously be redeemed by constant prayer, frequent fasting, more abundant almsgiving, and the forgiveness of those who sin against us. Otherwise, perhaps when they are collected and form a great heap, they may bury us. Whatever remains of these sins and is not redeemed by us will have to be purged in that fire of which the Apostle said: ‘It is to be revealed in fire, and if his work burns he will lose his reward.’ […] if we neither give thanks to God in tribulations nor redeem our own sins by good works, we will have to stay in that fire of purgatory as long as those above-mentioned slight sins are consumed like wood and hay and straw.

St. Caesarius. Sermon 179, Sermons, Volume 2 (81–186). Translated by Mary Magdeleine Mueller, Catholic University of America Press, 1964, pp. 452-453.

The merits of faithful Christians (saints) are truly efficacious for remitting the temporal punishment due to sin, not only for themselves but also for others—in St. Caesarius’ case, for the faithful departed. The Catholic West eventually joined this belief to the concept of “the treasury of merits,” which is simply an image we use to conceive of all of the merits of the saints “combined” in a sense. It’s with this background that we may return to our discussion of indulgences.

As St. Thomas Aquinas points out:

[T]he saints in whom this super-abundance of satisfactions is found, did not perform their good works for this or that particular person, who needs the remission of his punishment (else he would have received this remission without any indulgence at all), but they performed them for the whole Church in general, even as the Apostle declares that he fills up “those things that are wanting of the sufferings of Christ … for His body, which is the Church” to whom he wrote (Colossians 1:24). These merits, then, are the common property of the whole Church. Now those things which are the common property of a number are distributed to the various individuals according to the judgment of him who rules them all. Hence, just as one man would obtain the remission of his punishment if another were to satisfy for him, so would he too if another’s satisfactions be applied to him by one who has the power to do so.

St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, Supplement, Q. 25, A. 1.

The Church Militant have always believed that their own godly merits are efficacious for remitting temporal punishments, whether for themselves or for others. However, these merits don’t belong to themselves alone, but rather to the entire Body of Christ, as St. Paul makes clear in Colossians 1:24. From here the logic is quite straightforward. Since the keys of the Church give priests the authority to apply the infinite merits of Jesus Christ for the remission of eternal punishment, it makes sense that these same keys likewise have access to the merits of Christ and His saints for the sake of remitting temporal punishment. After all, qui potest plus, potest minus. Thus St. Thomas: “just as one man would obtain the remission of his punishment if another were to satisfy for him, so would he too if another’s satisfactions be applied to him by one who has the power to do so.” New covenant priests have the power to do so, and when they do, we call it an indulgence.

Throughout Church history, the “binding” power of the keys went from ordinarily issuing long periods of excommunication before sacramental absolution to issuing short periods of fasting and or prayer after absolution. This is a change that happened not only in the Catholic West, but the Orthodox East as well. It happened because the Church both increased her understanding of the sacrament of Penance and had the authority to enact disciplines in accordance with this deepened understanding. This is exactly what happened with indulgences, only this development occurred with respect to the “loosing” power of the keys rather than their “binding” power. The Church went from only loosing sins in the context of sacramental Confession to also using this power outside of Confession for the spiritual benefit of her people.

Final Remarks

I want to conclude this article by returning to the dual imagery that inspired its title: the keys and the sword (yes I swapped the order). It’s not lost on me that these two images have been associated with Ss. Peter and Paul respectively, the two apostles on whose blood the Church of Rome was founded. Obviously, I believe this is supremely fitting since its the bishop of Rome who alone possesses the keys of the kingdom in their fulness, which he uses as “the ecclesiastical sword” for the sake of the Bride of Christ.11 I hope that what I’ve written, while not exhaustive, at least provides a coherent framework for understanding how the Catholic Church came to adopt her teachings on the sacrament of Penance and indulgences. Thanks for reading.

Last summer an Eastern Orthodox apologist who goes by the name, “The Uncreated Light,” wrote an article entitled, “11 Practical Reasons To Be Orthodox Instead of Roman Catholic.” To be honest, I was quite unimpressed by his arguments. However, a reader of mine reached out to me and asked if I could respond because, to those who aren’t as familiar with these subjects, the points he makes could be persuasive.

I. The Denial of the Chalice

II. Infant Communion and Confirmation

III. Cremation

IV. Iconography

V. Confession

VI. Annulments and Divorce

VII. Liturgical Differences

VIII. Faith & Reason

IX. Authority Structure

X. Doctrinal Development

XI. Fasting

Final Remarks

I. The Denial of the Chalice

The first critique of Catholic discipline that this Orthodox apologist makes concerns the fact that, in the Latin rite, the chalice is ordinarily denied to the laity during the reception of Holy Communion. He claims that this contradicts Christ’s teaching in John 6:53, “Most assuredly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you have no life in you.” Although he quotes and critiques the Baltimore Catechism’s explanation for why the Church adopted this practice of denying the chalice to the laity (and I agree that there’s room for criticizing this practice), he doesn’t cite any Catholic sources that explain why this discipline doesn’t contradict divine precepts such as John 6:53.

This is a glaring omission because it shows that our Orthodox apologist did little research on this subject other than probably watching a few YouTube videos or reading a few blog articles. While that can be okay for gaining some cursory knowledge about something, if one is going to publicly and triumphalistically denounce a Catholic practice, then he ought to put in more effort.

A good place to start would be with the Catholic Encyclopedia’s detailed entry, “Communion under Both Kinds.” There one would find arguments in defense of the Latin discipline that our Orthodox apologist doesn’t seem to be aware of. For example, the standard Catholic response to Utraquism is as follows:

Were one to insist that Christ’s action in administering Holy Communion under both kinds to the Apostles at the Last Supper was intended to lay down a law for all future recipients, he should for the same reason insist that several other temporary and accidental circumstances connected with the first celebration of the Eucharist (e.g. the preceding paschal rites, the use of unleavened bread, the taking of the Sacred Species by the recipients themselves) were likewise intended to be obligatory for all future celebrations.

The institution under both kinds, or the separate consecration of the bread and wine, belongs essentially, in Catholic opinion, to the sacrificial, as distinct from the sacramental, character of the Eucharist; and when Christ in the words “Do this for a commemoration of me” (Luke 22:19), gave to the Apostles both the command and the power to offer the Eucharistic sacrifice, they understood Him merely to impose upon them and their successors in the priesthood the obligation of sacrificing sub utraque. This obligation the Church has rigorously observed.

Toner, Patrick. “Communion under Both Kinds.” The Catholic Encyclopedia. Vol. 4. New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1908. <http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/04175a.htm>.

This argument underscores how not even the Orthodox Church observes the Holy Eucharist exactly as Jesus instituted it. For starters, our Lord used unleavened bread at the Last Supper, not leavened bread as the Orthodox Church does today. This is a practice that the apostles likewise followed in their own celebrations of the Lord’s Supper, as I’ve argued elsewhere.1 When Jesus said, “take this, all of you, and eat of it,” He was referring to the species of unleavened bread, not leavened bread. Does this therefore mean that there’s a divine precept that everyone must partake of unleavened bread at the Eucharist for all times? Surely not.

Moreover, notice how, at the Last Supper, our Lord separates the two commands: “take, eat…” and, “drink this…” (cf. Matt 26:26-28). He doesn’t say, “mingle these two together and then partake of them simultaneously with a spoon.” To this day, both Orthodox and Catholic priests believe themselves to be bound to literally take and eat the bread, and take and drink the chalice. However, both Orthodox and Catholics acknowledge that the laity are not bound to literally perform these actions. In the East, the laity do not take the bread and the chalice at all, instead they receive the consecrated bread and wine simultaneously on a spoon. In the West, the laity (in general) likewise do not take the host and the chalice, but instead receive the host.

In this way, both Catholics and Orthodox recognize that the commandment to, “take this, all of you,” whether with respect to the host or the chalice, only strictly applies to the apostles and their successors. This makes good sense since that commandment was only given to the apostles. Indeed, as the Catholic Encyclopedia points out, this commandment was joined to the command, “do this in remembrance of me,” which both the East and the West interpret as a command for priests to consecrate the bread and the wine in the Liturgy. The laity do not “do this,” i.e. offer the Eucharistic sacrifice, in the manner that the apostles and their successors were commanded to. Thus, they likewise do not have to “take” the bread and the wine in the same manner that the apostles and their successors do.

It would be one thing for our Orthodox apologist to engage with these arguments and explain where he thinks they go wrong, but he doesn’t do that. Instead, he claims that withholding the chalice from the laity is akin to withholding Christ from them: “only the priest partaking of the wine for the East is akin to saying Christ withholds Himself from those who approach worthily with attention and devotion. We know that’s not how God operates.”2 Yet the only way to actually believe that withholding the chalice from someone is withholding Christ from them is to believe that Christ is not truly and fully present under both Eucharistic species.

Indeed, our Orthodox apologist seems to affirm just that: “this practice of not giving the laity wine is to deny giving the blood of Christ and to deny Christ’s words.” If taken strictly, this would mean that the blood of Christ is not truly present under the Eucharistic species of bread. This is a heretical denial of the doctrine of concomitance.

Theologically, we know that the glorified human nature of Christ cannot be broken up into separable parts, and so one simply cannot partake of the body of Christ without simultaneously partaking of His blood. To be sure, the body and blood of Christ are truly distinct, as the body and the soul are truly distinct, but you cannot have one without the other in a living being. “Where one is, there the other is as well.”

In Sacred Scripture, St. Paul likewise affirms the doctrine of concomitance:

Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or (ἢ) drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty concerning the body and (καὶ) blood of the Lord.

1 Corinthians 11:27

According to St. Paul, if you either partake of the species of bread or the species of wine unworthily, you will be guilty concerning both the body and the blood of Christ. This teaching only makes sense if the whole Christ, body, blood, soul, and divinity, is contained under both Eucharistic species. As such, even if one were to partake of merely a crumb of the sacred host or merely a drop of the precious chalice, he would be “eating the flesh of the Son of Man and drinking His blood” unto everlasting life, in obedience to the commandment of Christ in John 6:53. This was the very line of reasoning used by the Russian Orthodox Church when they allowed their faithful who suffer from celiac disease to partake of only the precious blood of Christ: “A layman suffering from a gluten-associated disease may commune of just the Blood of Christ, as the Savior is fully present in It.”3

For more on this subject, especially from a historical and patristic perspective, I highly recommend checking out the work of Kevin Fernandez.4

II. Infant Communion and Confirmation

The next critique of Catholic discipline that our Orthodox apologist makes concerns the Latin practice of delaying infant Confirmation and Communion until the age of reason. He passes over this matter rather quickly, but to paraphrase his arguments, “this is inconsistent with infant baptism,” “the age of reason is an arbitrary impediment to the grace of God,” “no one can ever have ‘sufficient knowledge’ of God for the sacraments,” etc. Now, I don’t think these are necessarily bad arguments. I too lament the Latin discipline of delaying Confirmation and Communion for infants. However, I simply don’t understand how this is something that would “falsify” Catholicism and “prove” Eastern Orthodoxy.5

To understand why, I would first recommend that everyone read Erick Ybarra’s insightful article, “How Bad is the Roman Catholic Practice of Delaying Eucharistic Communion to Baptized Infants?.” Therein he makes a number of important points that I’ll reiterate here. First, the only sacrament that’s absolutely necessary for anyone to be fully and perfectly united to Christ is Holy Baptism. This is taught explicitly by St. Paul in Romans 6:1-11, and it’s evident from the story of the Ethiopian eunuch in Acts 8:26-40. In this story, the Ethiopian eunuch received the sacrament of Baptism alone from Philip the deacon, and then “went on his way rejoicing” (Acts 8:39). As Ybarra points out, “How could Luke, writing under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, say that the Eunuch went away rejoicing if he had received the incomplete non-normative means of salvation?” Certainly, there’s nothing essential to salvation that’s denied to a baptized infant whose Confirmation and First Communion are delayed.

Second, Eastern Orthodox who critique the Latin discipline by appealing to its inconsistency with infant baptism seem to be unfamiliar with the history and theology underlying infant baptism. It’s no secret that, while the Church has always believed in the salvific effects of Holy Baptism, she didn’t always mandate infant baptism. This is attested to by none other than St. Gregory of Nazianzus, one of only three men that the Orthodox Church names “Theologian.” When asked about the legitimacy of infant baptism in the forth century, St. Gregory replied:

Be it so, some will say, in the case of those who ask for Baptism; what have you to say about those who are still children, and conscious neither of the loss nor of the grace? Are we to baptize them too? Certainly, if any danger presses. For it is better that they should be unconsciously sanctified than that they should depart unsealed and uninitiated.

A proof of this is found in the Circumcision on the eighth day, which was a sort of typical seal, and was conferred on children before they had the use of reason. And so is the anointing of the doorposts, Exodus 12:22 which preserved the firstborn, though applied to things which had no consciousness. But in respect of others I give my advice to wait till the end of the third year, or a little more or less, when they may be able to listen and to answer something about the Sacrament; that, even though they do not perfectly understand it, yet at any rate they may know the outlines; and then to sanctify them in soul and body with the great sacrament of our consecration. For this is how the matter stands; at that time they begin to be responsible for their lives, when reason is matured, and they learn the mystery of life (for of sins of ignorance owing to their tender years they have no account to give), and it is far more profitable on all accounts to be fortified by the Font, because of the sudden assaults of danger that befall us, stronger than our helpers.

St. Gregory the Theologian, Oration 40, XXIII.

St. Gregory affirms the legitimacy of infant baptism in principle, even appealing to the old covenant precedent of infant circumcision. However, he recommends that this only be done “if any danger presses,” i.e. if an infant is in danger of death. On the other hand, if an infant is not in danger of death, then the Theologian teaches that it’s better to delay baptism “till the end of the third year, or a little more or less,” because that’s the time when children “begin to be responsible for their lives, when reason is matured, and they learn the mystery of life.”

Would our Orthodox apologist accuse St. Gregory the Theologian of adhering to “a gnostic undercurrent that a child must ‘have sufficient knowledge’ in order to partake of Christ”? It would seem so. What Orthodox apologists often forget is that infant baptism didn’t become a universal practice in the early Church because of some perceived divine mandate to fully initiate all Christian children. Instead, it was largely because of the prevalence of infant mortality and the normative belief that infants would go to hell if they died unbaptized.6 In his book Early Christian Worship, the liturgical scholar Paul Bradshaw documents this at length:

What is also clear is that even after the practice of infant baptism was adopted, it did not quickly replace adult baptism as the norm everywhere. On the one hand, in North Africa it seems to have become firmly established at an early date. Thus Cyprian in the third century insisted that there was no need to wait until the eighth day after birth to baptize an infant, as some were claiming on the basis of the biblical prescription for circumcision: the mercy and grace of God ought not to be refused to anyone, since all are equal in the gift of grace (Ep. 64). On the other hand, we find Gregory Nazianzus in Cappadocia in 381 advising that children should normally be baptized at about the age of three years, when they are able to answer the baptismal questions themselves and can to some extent understand the Christian faith (Or. 40.28)! There are also plenty of examples of people from Christian families in the fourth century who were not baptized until they had become adults. Indeed, as we saw in the previous chapter, there was a widespread tendency at that time to delay baptism as long as possible.

By the fifth century, however, the same beliefs that at first had caused people to delay baptism now began to lead them in the opposite direction: if baptism was necessary for salvation, was it not desirable therefore to baptize children as young as possible, lest they should happen to die and forfeit their opportunity for salvation? This tendency was given strong impetus both by the high infant mortality rate in the ancient world and by the theological reflections of Augustine, who argued that because the church practised the baptism of infants, it must follow that babies were thus in need of the remission of sin that baptism brought. Since newborn children had not yet committed actual sins, he concluded that they must have inherited the ‘original sin’ of Adam: ‘What need is there, therefore, for an infant to be conformed to the death of Christ through baptism, if he is not completely poisoned by the serpent’s bite?” Augustine was not the first to reason in this way from practice to doctrine. Both Cyprian and Origen in the third century had already drawn similar conclusions from infant baptism, in contrast to earlier Christian theologians who had asserted the purity of newborn children. Augustine not only developed the idea more fully, but he added a powerful motivation for conferring baptism at the earliest possible age, since he argued that children dying unbaptized would inevitable be damned, although he believed that they would receive only ‘the mildest condemnation.”

Paul Bradshaw, Early Christian Worship: A Basic Introduction to Ideas and Practice, pp. 33-4.

Modern Eastern Orthodox who appropriate Protestant notions of “covenant theology” to try and argue for the absolute necessity of baptizing, confirming, and communing infants are simply not in line with the historic thought of the Church. As fathers like St. Gregory demonstrate, alongside the desire to baptize infants to ensure their inheritance of eternal life, Christian antiquity likewise has a tradition of delaying sacraments until “the age of reason,” or some other time, for the sake of some spiritual benefit. This is the tradition that Catholicism is connected to in delaying infant Confirmation and Communion. The Eastern Orthodox themselves do this today with the sacrament of Confession—no penances for those below the age of reason! And don’t even get me started on the ways in which Penance has radically changed over the centuries in both Orthodoxy and Catholicism.7

The last point I want to make on this subject isn’t in response to something our Orthodox apologist claims, but it is something that I’ve heard from others. Namely, this idea that the Latin discipline entails the Church unlawfully “excommunicating” children until their First Communion.

This is a common misconception. Excommunication is a positive juridical impediment to someone receiving Holy Communion. Not everyone barred from Communion is excommunicated. For example, penitents (those repenting from mortal sin) were traditionally barred from Communion; married laymen were also traditionally barred from Communion if they had had intercourse within the past three days; the Orthodox Church has historically barred women from Communion during their menstrual cycles and for forty days after giving birth;8 to this day, Catholics are barred from Communion if they’ve eaten less than an hour before the Eucharistic liturgy; and the Eastern Churches generally still observe the midnight Eucharistic fast, and would bar the faithful from Communion if they violated it. Yet, none of this implies that such persons are excommunicated.

The definition of excommunication in the early Church simply never was, “being excluded from Communion.” For example, heathens and catechumens were denied Communion in the early Church, yet they were never described as “excommunicated.” Same with women during their menstrual cycles. Instead, the term has always had a connection with active punishment, not mere exclusion. In order for someone to be excommunicated, there must be a crime they’ve committed that merits excommunication as the punishment.

In the case of delaying Holy Communion for an infant, there’s no crime they’ve committed that has excommunication being assigned as the punishment. That’s why describing the Latin discipline in terms of excommunication is inappropriate. Instead, the Latin custom is better referred to as, “delayed reception of the Eucharist.” Infants technically aren’t denied Communion in the West (they’re not asking for it), the time of their first reception thereof is simply delayed. Frankly, since the East believes it’s appropriate to delay the reception of the Eucharist by seven days to mensurating women, and by forty days to new mothers, I really have a hard time taking them seriously when they criticize the Latin discipline.

III. Cremation

The next few “Catholic practices” that our Orthodox apologist critiques don’t merit much attention, so I’ll try to keep them short.

First, cremation. Yes, the Catechism of the Catholic Church permits cremation “provided that it does not demonstrate a denial of faith in the resurrection of the body” (CCC 2301). Yes, this is a sharp departure from the historic practice of the Church, which is outlined in detail by the 1908 Catholic Encyclopedia.9 However, even after going through and defending all of the historical and theological reasons why the Church opposes cremation, that entry nonetheless ends by stating:

In conclusion, it must be remembered that there is nothing directly opposed to any dogma of the Church in the practice of cremation, and that, if ever the leaders of this sinister movement so far control the governments of the world as to make this custom universal, it would not be a lapse in the faith confided to her were she obliged to conform.

Devlin, William. “Cremation.” The Catholic Encyclopedia. Vol. 4. New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1908. <http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/04481c.htm>.

Nor is this only the Catholic position. Perhaps our Orthodox apologist isn’t aware, but the Eastern Orthodox Church itself does not absolutely forbid cremation. Just go to the official website of the Orthodox Church in America:

The Church does not condemn cremation outright, provided that there is a valid reason for it.

In Japan, for example, the state requires cremation, and this extends to Orthodox Christians. There have also been exceptions made in cases of epidemics or fear of disease, for various reasons. There can also be reasonable cause for permitting cremation, but in general the image of the body being buried as it awaits the resurrection is more in keeping with the image given to us by Christ, Who likens burial with the planting of seed which later blossoms into a living plant.

Orthodox Church in America, “Cremation.”

Unless our Orthodox apologist is prepared to denounce the OCA as heretical, as well as the Orthodox Church in Japan, then he ought to be more careful in his critiques of Catholicism. Both the Catholic and Orthodox Churches recognize that cremation isn’t ideal, and that it should never be preferred to physical burial. However, at the same, both acknowledge that there’s nothing intrinsically evil about it, and so it need not be absolutely forbidden. Though I would prefer cremation to be absolutely forbidden, it’s not something that I’ll schism over, nor should you dear reader.

IV. Iconography

To be sure, there are many, many, many (too many) forms of Catholic art that I despise. I’m not a huge fan of the hyper-realism that made its way into western art from the Renaissance onwards. For me, even much of the artwork in the Sistine Chapel is aesthetically displeasing. However, to pretend that bad art exists only in the West, or that the Church has an ancient tradition of flawlessly adhering to “rules” about iconography, is wholly unserious.

Our Orthodox apologist mocks Catholic art “allowing Jesus to be depicted as a balding child; completely naked, with six-pack abs,” etc. Yet I’ve seen “weird” things like this in other forms of Christian art as well. Whether it’s our Infant Lord with an apparently thinning hairline:

Our Lord with quite noticeable abominable muscles:

Or even ancient depictions of Christ as a beardless Roman:

One cannot pretend that the Church has a monolithic artistic heritage.

While the Orthodox Church has some semblance of “rules for art” that stem from the Council of Trullo, these rules themselves aren’t completely “traditional” either. For example, canon 82 of Trullo bans artistic depictions of Jesus as the Lamb of God, despite itself acknowledging that such depictions are as “ancient” as Christianity itself.10 Since our Orthodox apologist emphasizes that “iconography depicts a reality” and “sends a message,” can we conclude that Trullo’s ban on Jesus being depicted as “the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world” is responsible for modern Eastern Orthodox theologians downplaying the biblical and patristic doctrine that Christ’s atoning death satisfied the punishment due to our sins?11 I’m not sure that’s a rabbit hole that most Orthodox are prepared to go down.

At the end of the day, yes, the Catholic West has been more “creative” with art than the Orthodox East. This has led to some disastrous consequences, especially in the modern era, but it’s also produced beautiful fruit. There are many distinctively western pieces of sacred art that are simply unmatched by anything in the East:

This is without even getting into the Catholic West’s beautiful heritage of architecture and statuary. As much as I love Byzantine iconography, I do believe the Church would be missing something if that was literally the only artistic style around (as it generally is in Eastern Orthodoxy). We need to be reminded that, as mystical as our faith is, it’s also truly grounded in reality. And reality doesn’t always look ethereal.

V. Confession

This is likewise a bad critique to make of Catholicism from an Eastern Orthodox perspective. Our Orthodox apologist writes, “It is very much impersonal in Roman Catholicism to confess to a priest behind a screen, with no real working relationship with him.” He even dares to go on, “All priests are celibate in the Roman church, while the Orthodox Church allows married priests. It’s more likely to find a priest who has experience in family issues, raising children, relating to your spouse, etc in the Orthodox Church.”

With respect to the latter criticism, that quip would be similar to an Anglican bragging about how having female “priests” allows women to have better experiences in Confession. Clearly, that misses the point (no, I’m not saying that married priests are categorically the same as female priestesses, if that’s the conclusion you’ve drawn then you’ve missed the point). I’ve discussed the discipline of clerical celibacy in great detail elsewhere,12 and even had a live discussion/debate with an Orthodox gentleman about this topic.13 Suffice it to say, the discipline of celibacy is no subject for which an Eastern Orthodox critic can lambast Catholicism.

Now, what seems to be going on in the former criticism is a conflation of two things: Confession and spiritual direction. It’s true that these are much more separate in the West than they are in the East, but that’s not a bad thing.

Confession is not therapy, nor is it really the proper place for spiritual direction. Confession is a sacrament intended to remit the sins being confessed and restore a penitent to a right standing with God. From my reading of the early sources on Confession, I don’t believe early Christians were spending extended periods of time receiving spiritual direction from their bishops when confessing their sins to them.14 That seems to be a later development, especially once Confession became incorporated into a monastic context in the East. Indeed, it seems to have found its culmination around the tenth century with St. Symeon the New Theologian believing that his spiritual father was so holy that he could absolve sins despite not being ordained.15 Clearly, the East’s record with Confession isn’t spotless.

The West simply didn’t develop Confession in the direction that the East apparently did. I’m less familiar with the history of “spiritual direction” in the Catholic West, but I can attest that at least today it’s quite common for Catholics to have spiritual directors whom they can consult outside the context of Confession. My spiritual director is a Dominican lay brother, so he wouldn’t even be able to absolve me of my sins (the opinions of Symeon the New Theologian notwithstanding). If priests were the only people who could be spiritual directors, then we would be missing out on the spiritual gifts that laymen and even laywomen have in that arena. We would have less opportunities to “confess [our] sins to one another” (Jas 5:16).

Priests are busy, and quite frankly, there’s more Catholics than there are Eastern Orthodox. I don’t have any stats on this, but I would also venture to guess that there’s more practicing Catholics who regularly go to Confession than there are practicing Orthodox who do so. If every Confession consisted of 30 minutes of spiritual direction before the actual absolution, Catholics wouldn’t have as much access to this important sacrament as is pastorally necessary. Additionally, penitents would feel rushed by how many other people are in line for spiritual direction/Confession, and so they likely wouldn’t get all of the help that they need. In my opinion, it’s pastorally irresponsible to expect one or two priests to be the spiritual directors for entire parishes. Now that I’ve actually received real spiritual direction in the Catholic Church, it’s apparent to me how strange and likely counter-productive it is for Orthodox Christians to view Confession as the primary place for spiritual direction; or for them to view their priest as the only person they can go to for this direction.

VI. Annulments and Divorce

Divorce and remarriage is a subject that I’ve written about before in my article for Catholic Answers, “East vs. West: Divorce, Remarriage.” I recommend reading that for a more detailed treatment of this topic. Suffice it to say that no matter how much one criticizes the Catholic Church’s practice of annulments, it will never change this fact: Jesus Christ, the Apostle Paul, and all pre-Nicene Christians absolutely forbade remarriage after divorce. Full stop. Catholicism could be wrong (though it’s not), and this would still be true and therefore problematic for Eastern Orthodoxy.

With that said, let’s talk about annulments. Annulments rest on the notion that there are certain criteria that need to be met in order for a marriage to be valid, and when those criteria aren’t met, the marriage isn’t valid. True enough, Scripture doesn’t give all of the criteria needed for a valid marriage. But it doesn’t do so for any of the other sacraments either. Scripture no where says what the baptismal formula must be in order for Holy Baptism to be valid; it doesn’t say that oil must be used in Confirmation to be valid; it doesn’t even say what exactly must be said and done for the Holy Eucharist to be validly consecrated. We can approximate certain criteria for sacramental validity from Scripture, sure, but we can’t actually deduce it. This is why the Church alone is the competent authority for determining the criteria of sacramental validity, since the apostles and their successors were given a divine commission to administer and govern the sacraments (Matt 28:18-20).

It therefore is absolutely within the purview of traditional, apostolic Christianity to say that the criteria for what makes the sacrament of Marriage valid is, like the rest, determined by the Church. Notice that this question about what makes a marriage valid stands in contrast to the question of whether or not remarriage is permitted after divorce. Jesus directly and explicitly addresses that question, and says that anyone who remarries after divorce is an adulterer. He does not address the question of what criteria must be met in order for a valid sacramental marriage to occur.

I’m certainly no fan of the apparent liberality with which annulments are given out, however, the attempt to create an equality between the Catholic practice of annulments and the Eastern Orthodox allowance of remarriage is just not something I can take seriously. It’s also worth noting that, based on the testimony of several individuals who work in canonical tribunals, the common claim that annulments are just “handed out” for practically any reason doesn’t seem to be true, at least not everywhere. In fact, unless you have substantial evidence to back it up, this claim is slanderous toward faithful canon lawyers who take their job seriously.

VII. Liturgical Differences

Our Orthodox apologist’s critique of Catholic liturgy is rather shallow. I do find it strange that he complains about there being “many variation [sic] styles in the Roman church” when it comes to liturgy. This is a mistake that many traditionalist Catholics make as well. Liturgical variety isn’t an inherently bad thing, it’s quite traditional. In fact, absolute liturgical uniformity is a rather late development in both the East and the West.

To be sure, there’s much to criticize about the modern “liturgical diversity” of the West, especially with respect to the post-Vatican II reforms. Indeed, the more I get exposed to traditional Latin liturgy, the less enthusiastic I get about the reforms. However, I don’t see anything in them that would falsify Catholicism. Not that our Orthodox apologist is simplistically claiming that “Novus Ordo = Catholicism wrong,” but I’m not exactly sure what he is claiming. Is it that the Mystical Body of Christ doesn’t externally look as beautiful as he would expect? What would he have said about the physical Body of Christ on Good Friday? “He had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him” (Isa 53:2).

As I attested in my article, “One Year as a Catholic: A Reflection,” pretty much the entire reason why I first joined Eastern Orthodoxy was because I allowed myself to be so scandalized by the external appearance of the Catholic Church that I doubted our Lord’s divine promises to St. Peter and his successors. I wrote:

Reflecting on this eventually convicted me in the same way that our Lord convicted St. Peter: “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” (Matt 14:31). It made me feel like one of the disciples who abandoned Jesus during the three day scandal of the cross. When it came time to actually walk by faith in Christ’s promises to His Church and not by the sight of those currently in power, I gave up, I didn’t follow the example of the faithful disciples who, in the midst of Jesus’ claims seemingly being falsified at Calvary, clung to the past and hoped for vindication in the future. But it was precisely of these that our Lord said: “Blessed are those who do not see and yet whose faith is firm in me” (Jn 20:29). I beg you, do not imitate my former self.

Ben Bollinger (me), “One Year as a Catholic: A Reflection.”

I fear that this is the main reason why a lot of people become Eastern Orthodox rather than Catholic today. They don’t understand that, in the words of St. Francis de Sales, it’s “in the interior of the Church and in her heart” where “all the chief of her glory” can be found.16 It’s not in the externals. As several others have observed, it seems that while Catholicism externally appears false, its truth is found in its internal coherence and beauty. Meanwhile Eastern Orthodoxy is the opposite. It externally appears true and beautiful, yet its falsehoods are discovered only after diving into it.

I’ll end this section by simply pointing out that the East’s liturgy isn’t free of criticism either. Certainly, this is what Patriarch Nikon of Moscow thought in the 17th century, and his liturgical reforms ended up creating a schism in the Russian Orthodox Church that still remains to this day.17 Liturgical reform is rarely pretty, and it takes time to be properly implemented. However, this doesn’t mean that liturgy should remain unchanged forever. Yes, I recognize that our Orthodox apologist isn’t pretending that the Byzantine Liturgy came down from heaven, but once again, the actual argument he’s trying to make isn’t entirely clear.

VIII. Faith & Reason

This section of our Orthodox apologist’s article is not well written. He states that in Eastern Orthodoxy, “Faith does not depend upon reason, while in the Roman Catholic Church especially in Scholasticism reason becomes the criterion for truth.” I don’t believe he truly understands the words he’s using. To be honest, all I’ll say to anyone who’s open to Catholicism but is genuinely worried that we “care too much about reason” is to read the following books:

1. “Faith Comes from What Is Heard: An Introduction to Fundamental Theology” by Dr. Lawrence Feingold.

2. “The Mysteries of Christianity” by Fr. Matthias Joseph Scheeben.

If you read these two books and come away thinking that Catholicism replaces faith with reason, then I don’t know what to tell you. Also, if you’re unfamiliar with the mystical tradition of the Catholic Church, as our Orthodox apologist is, then I recommend you read St. Thérèse of Lisieux’s autobiography, Story of a Soul. I believe any Orthodox who reads that and doesn’t see the beauty of Catholic mysticism is as blind as a Catholic who reads about St. Seraphim of Sarov and denies his sanctity.

IX. Authority Structure

See my article, “What Eastern Orthodox Apologists Miss About the Papacy.”

X. Doctrinal Development

This is yet another example of our Orthodox apologist spending all of three paragraphs on a topic that really deserves a book-length treatment. He writes that, for Catholics, “any doctrine can develop into something else,” meanwhile “for the Orthodox, we reject doctrinal development,” meaning that “Orthodoxy brings consistency that Catholicism does not in a world that seeks to innovate and impose itself upon the Church.” Not very profound.

Does he explain what Catholic theologians have identified as the definition of doctrinal development? Does he cite any Catholic authors who extensively detail the differences between doctrinal development and doctrinal corruption? Does he even attempt to engage with the substance of St. John Henry Newman’s writings on this topic? Does he really do anything here? I think you know the answers.18

Now, I fully agree that there are problems with the way that many Catholics present the concept of doctrinal development. There are indeed some Catholics, even theologians, who believe that the pope can look at a passage of Sacred Scripture and just decide that it means something that it clearly doesn’t. I’ve extensively critiqued this erroneous idea in my articles, “The Limits of Papal Infallibility,” and, “Papal Heresy, Papal Infallibility, and Constantinople 681.” The fact that there are erroneous versions of doctrinal development doesn’t mean that it must be thrown out completely.

Moreover, to pretend that Catholics are the only ones who view things through the lens of doctrinal development is unserious. As I argue at length in my previously cited article on papal infallibility and the Council of Constantinople 681, the Sixth Ecumenical Council fully embraced Pope St. Agatho’s interpretation of Luke 22:31-32, which entails that the Roman pontiff will have never-failing faith until the end of time. In Eastern Orthodoxy, how does this “develop” into the belief that, actually, the pope can be severed from the communion of the Church for almost one thousand years? How does the patristic doctrine that the Holy Spirit eternally proceeds from the Father and the Son develop into the Spirit proceeding from the Father alone?19 How does St. Paul’s teaching in Romans 9:16 that predestination unto salvation “depends not on human will or exertion, but on God, who has mercy” develop into the Orthodox belief that “predestination does not depend on God but on people”?20 These are all questions that don’t have good answers.

As a final note on this subject, I just want to highlight the irony of certain Orthodox apologists critiquing the doctrine of papal infallibility because it wasn’t dogmatically defined until the 19th century. To this day, the Eastern Orthodox Church still hasn’t defined what ecclesiastical primacy looks like in Eastern Orthodoxy, nor under what conditions the Church is infallible, if any.21 I truly believe that when most people criticize the Catholic Church’s “developments,” they’re just revealing that they haven’t thought as deeply about the relevant issues as Catholic theologians have.

XI. Fasting

It’s interesting that our Orthodox apologist ends his article by critiquing the post-conciliar Catholic Church’s relaxation of the “obligation” to fast. Curious, is there an “obligation” for Eastern Orthodox Christians to fast? In what does this obligation consist? Are there canonical penalties for those who don’t observe these fasts? Which canons spell this out? Are priests allowed to relax these penalties? Only bishops? Can laymen decide for themselves which fasting requirements they can observe versus not? Can you eat Thanksgiving turkey or Christmas cookies during the Nativity Fast? Ask 10 different Orthodox these questions, you’ll get 100 different answers.

To be honest, I think both Catholics and Eastern Orthodox have an unhealthy relationship to fasting. In Catholicism, we care a lot about rules, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Rules help provide clarity about what the average Catholic is actually required to do—clarity that, from my experience, is greatly lacking in the Orthodox Church. However, the danger with having actual fasting laws is that, if people don’t observe them, they’re guilty of sin. Modern Catholic hierarchs, in their concern for the salvation of souls, didn’t want to lay heavy burdens on the consciences of the faithful, and so they decided to relax the fasting laws, and instead encourage the faithful to fast of their own accord. This is actually more in line with the ancient practice of the Church, as I outline in my article, “Fasting in the Early Church.”

Unfortunately, the practical consequence of this has been that, since Catholics aren’t obliged under pain of mortal sin to observe the traditional fasts, nobody does it. This doesn’t mean that fasting has been “abolished” in the Catholic Church, it just means that most people are rather lax in their spiritual disciplines. Myself included.

On the other hand, Eastern Orthodoxy has its own problems with respect to fasting. Since the Orthodox have no updated or even codified code of canon law, no coherent understanding of ecclesiastical authority, and no unified belief about how ancient canons actually apply to 21st century laymen, there’s a lot of confusion about what Orthodox laity are obligated to do under pain of sin. For all the Eastern Orthodox know, they may in fact have the exact same “official” stance towards fasting as the Latin Catholic Church does: the traditional fasts are highly encouraged, but not required under pain of mortal sin. The only difference seems to be that the culture of fasting is much stronger in Orthodoxy, likely because it’s smaller and still has strong ethnic ties to nations where the traditional fasts became enculturated.

Yet even at that, is it really pastorally responsible to observe ancient fasting laws (many of which developed in a monastic context) in the modern Church? When I was in the Orthodox Church, one of my fellow parishioners was a vegan who claimed that he looked forward to Great Lent because the food was so good. In my own observance of the traditional fasts, it was so difficult for me to find “Lenten foods” that I ended up thinking more about what I was going to eat than I did about praying and drawing nearer to the Lord. I also ended up eating a lot of artificial junk food that was technically “Lenten” in my attempt to observe the fast. I don’t think I was alone in facing these difficulties.

I truly believe that, for many modern people (maybe even most) abstaining from social media and going to bed by 9PM for forty days is more of a spiritual discipline than abstaining from meat and dairy. Given how much junk there is that passes for food today, even just asking people to eat only real, non-artificial food for forty days can be a great spiritual challenge for them. From my experience in the Catholic Church thus far, I can attest that fasting in accordance with my actual spiritual needs has been more fruitful than my attempts to observe the traditional fasts in Orthodoxy.

Final Remarks

I want to end this article by saying that, as harsh as I’ve been towards our Orthodox apologist, I don’t mean to insult him in any way. The truth is, discerning between Eastern Orthodoxy and Catholicism is hard. There’s so many books and articles to read, names and dates to be familiar with, original sources to consult… it can be overwhelming. I know this firsthand. There are many things I’ve written online over the years that came from a place of ignorance or only partially understanding something. Ten years from now, who knows, there may be things in this article that I look back on and shake my head at. I apologize if my rhetoric has been too harsh, but I believe it was necessary in this article in order to shun the low-tier, pop-apologetic arguments that exist on both sides of the Catholic-Orthodox debate.

I don’t judge “The Uncreated Light” for making such bad arguments, as I’ve made plenty of them myself. But I do wish to call him, and others, to a higher standard. If we’re serious about adhering to Scripture and Tradition, then let’s take them seriously. Let’s engage with the best of what both sides have to offer, rather than making weak arguments that only appeal to the uneducated. And of course, let’s never forget that faith is an infused supernatural gift from God, not something we can “achieve” by studying our brains out. If our study isn’t joined to prayer and interior communion with the sacred things we’re writing about, then it’s worthless. This is as much a reminder to myself as it is to everyone else. Thanks for reading.

A common argument in favor of the dogma of the Immaculate Conception is rooted in the teaching that our Lady is the “new Eve,” just as our Lord is the “new Adam.”1 Since the original Adam and Eve were made without any stain of original sin, so the argument goes, and new covenant fulfillments are always greater than their old covenant types, it follows that the new Adam and the new Eve were also completely free of original sin. Some people find this argument compelling, others don’t. Yet what I want to propose is that this argument can be the starting point from which a much more sophisticated defense Mary’s Immaculate Conception can be made. 

Traditional Mariology and the Immaculate Conception

Many are aware that this belief in Mary as the new Eve goes back to the earliest days of the Church, arguably originating in the writings of St. Paul.2 It’s attested to by St. Justin Martyr (AD 100-165),3 St. Irenaeus of Lyons (AD 130-202),4 and Tertullian of Carthage (AD 160-240),5 just to name a few. However, what’s lesser known—or perhaps appreciated—is the early Christian belief that Mary was free from the curses that were placed on Eve. This is seen in three of the earliest “Marian” texts we possess, the Ode of Solomon,6 the Ascension of Isaiah,7 and the Protoevangelium of James,8 all of which teach that Mary gave birth to Jesus without experiencing labor pains. The last of these texts also forcefully teaches that our Lady was consecrated as a perpetual virgin throughout her entire life, and that her marriage to St. Joseph was never intended to be conjugal.9 It goes without saying that these teachings, especially the Semper Virgo, came to be universally accepted by the entire Christian tradition, which St. Jerome (AD 342-420) demonstrates in his famous refutation of Helvidius.10 

As Fr. Daniel Moloney points out,11 these early Christian beliefs about our Lady directly map onto the two curses put on Eve in the garden: “To the woman he said, ‘I will surely multiply your pain in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children. Your desire shall be for your husband, but he shall rule over you’” (Gen 3:16). In Fr. Moloney’s words, the earliest Marian teachings show that,

Mary was a virgin before [and after] her pregnancy, implying that she was not overcome by desire for Joseph, and thus not subject to curse #2; and that she was a physical virgin even in childbirth, implying that for her, childbearing had zero pain, and thus that she was not subject to curse #1.

The conviction of ancient Christians that our Lady was a perpetual virgin—before, during,12 and after bearing Christ—isn’t grounded in an aversion to the goodness of marriage (as some erroneously believe), but rather in a desire to preserve Mary from the curses of original sin. Indeed, since labor pains and uncontrolled sexual desire13 were the only two curses put directly on our first mother Eve, if it’s true that our Mother Mary was specially exempted from both of them, it would seem to follow that she was exempt from original sin in some unique way as well.

I would argue that this is comparable to our Lord’s relationship to the most prominent curse of original sin—death. Although Christ did voluntarily assume this curse that was placed directly on Adam, St. John made sure to note that, during His passion, “not one of His bones [was] broken” (Jn 19:36). St. Peter likewise assured us that, even though Jesus truly died, the Father didn’t permit His Holy One to “see corruption” (Acts 13:35). Why was it absolutely essential for our Lord’s Body to remain intact during His three days in the grave? The answer is that it prevented Him from being subject to the literal sense of Genesis 3:19, “you are dust and to dust you shall return.” That is to say, because He was completely free from all stains of original sin, our Lord wasn’t subject to the corruption and decay associated with original sin. He didn’t return to dust, but rather returned to life. Jesus wasn’t subject to the curses put directly on Adam, just as Mary wasn’t subject to the curses put directly on Eve.

This definitely adds more weight to the “typological argument” for the Immaculate Conception given above. Rather than being a mere theological inference, we see that both Jesus and Mary, in their roles as the new Adam and the new Eve, share a unique relationship to the curses of original sin. Scripture and Tradition don’t simply portray Mary as the new Eve, but also as the uncursed Eve. This implies that both Jesus and Mary were immaculately conceived, albeit in different ways.

It’s worth noting that at least one father who identified Mary as the new Eve, St. Irenaeus, also directly connected Isaiah 66:7-8 to her painless childbearing,14 perhaps revealing that the early fathers were aware of this line of reasoning. Indeed, this prophetic text was one that the patristic tradition would unanimously accept as supporting Mary’s freedom from the curse of Eve, and for good reason.

As I’ve explained before,15 our Lady is the embodiment of Daughter Zion precisely in her role as the new Eve. This is evidenced by the language Genesis 2:22 uses to describe the creation of our first mother. The text doesn’t say that Eve was “made” from Adam’s side, but rather that she was “built,” וַיִּבֶן֩, an architectural term that’s frequently used to describe the construction of cities (cf. Gen 4:17, 10:11, 11:4-5; Josh 6:26, 19:50; 2 Sam 5:9). This is indeed why biblical cities are referred to by feminine names, whether positive as in “Daughter Zion” (2 Kg 19:21; Isa 1:8, 37:22, 62:11; Mic 4:13; Zech 9:9), or negative as in the “Whore of Babylon” (Rev 17:5). They’re images of the Mother of All Living. Thus it’s for this same reason that liturgical piety highlights Mary, the new Eve, as the mystical “City of God,”16 and the true fulfillment of Isaiah 66:7-8, “before her pain came upon her she delivered a son… For as soon as Zion was in labor she brought forth her children.”

It’s not surprising that Isaiah would be the prophet to speak about our Lady’s freedom from the curse of labor pains, given he’s also the one who famously prophesied that Mary would be a pure virgin: “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel” (Isa 7:14). By showing her to be exempt from both labor pains and uncontrolled sexual desire, the two curses put directly on Eve in Genesis 3:16, Isaiah reveals God’s intention for the Mother of the Messiah to be the new and uncursed Eve. Yet all of this raises a question. Why was this level of purity required for the new Mother of Life? Why did it have to be a pure virgin Eve—one who was free from the curses of original sin—who conceived and gave birth to the new and last Adam? So that He could be free from original sin? Sure, that could part of it. However, that doesn’t explain why our Lady remained an uncursed and undefiled virgin before, during, and after giving birth to Christ, which is what catholic Mariology requires. It seems like there’s something more behind the purity of the Virgin Mary, and indeed, the prophet Isaiah has some more answers for us.

The entire book of Isaiah describes God’s plan to send Israel a Messiah who would bring about her salvation from sin.17 As Seraphim Hamilton explains, part of this plan involved preparing Israel for her coming redemption: “Isaiah speaks of God beating the ground of Israel so that it might be useful for harvest [Isa 28:23-29]. But, the prophet says, God does not beat it forever, but does so in order that He might plant.”18 This refers to God’s “progressive purification” of Israel’s lineage, the process whereby He gradually cleansed her from all stains of sin, and whittled her down to a holy “remnant” (Isa 10:20), an undefiled ground in which the Messianic seed could be planted (cf. Isa 11:1-4). Naturally, this leads Hamilton to posit, “The Blessed Virgin is the embodiment of this sanctified ground, overshadowed by the Spirit to produce the Last Adam. She is the fulfillment of the ground beaten by God in the book of Isaiah. All of covenant history strained towards her. The ‘remnant’ is described in Isaiah [62:4-5] as a bride whom God marries—Mary symbolizes that remnant.”19

Although Hamilton tries to distinguish his view from the Catholic dogma of the Immaculate Conception, his scriptural exegesis brings him to the same conclusion: “The line leading to Mary is that which is most purified, and Mary is the holy seed whose will never conflicts with the will of God.” This perfectly answers the question raised above concerning why the Messiah’s Mother was to be uncursed and undefiled. Throughout the entire old covenant, God was waiting until Israel’s purification was complete to send the Messiah, and this was finally accomplished when our Lady was immaculately conceived—a pure root for a pure seed. This is why St. Paul declares, “When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman” (Gal 4:4). The Immaculate Conception of Mary, followed by her becoming old enough to healthily bear a child, signified that “the fullness of time” had come, that Israel was ready for her Messiah. It’s what set the stage for our Lord’s First Advent.

To be sure, this isn’t to say that our Lord Jesus needed to be conceived and born of an Immaculate Virgin, as if He couldn’t have entered the world some other way. Rather, this is how He chose His story—history—to unfold.

Theological Difficulties with the Immaculate Conception

At this point, it’s worthwhile to address some of the difficulties that Hamilton himself has with this Marian dogma, which he shares with many other non-Catholic theologians. He writes that the Immaculate Conception cannot be true because Mary must have had a “fallen human nature.” If she didn’t, then she would have been “redeemed in a fundamentally different way from all others,” which “undermines” Marian theology since our Lady is supposed to be the image of the Church. However, this supposed problem for Catholic Mariology vanishes once Hamilton reveals his definition of original sin:

In one sense, original sin refers to the ontological corruption of human nature and its inherent tendency towards division and death. In the other sense, original sin refers to the movement of the will towards sin and the person’s active participation in that movement. My personal belief is that Our Lady was immaculately conceived in the latter sense but not in the former sense.

What Hamilton fails to realize is that, by affirming that our Lady’s will never conflicted with the will of God, and therefore that her soul has always been in a state of grace since her conception, he already agrees with the Catholic dogma.

As Christian Wagner explains in his article, “St. Thomas, Doctor of the Immaculate Conception?,” all this dogma entails is that, from the first moment of her conception, Mary’s soul was never deprived of sanctifying grace—that’s it. Wagner further explains that Catholic theology actually requires that our Lady had the “debt of original sin” in her flesh, otherwise the “singular grace” of the Immaculate Conception would have been unnecessary, and Mary wouldn’t have needed a Redeemer at all. Unlike our Lord, our Lady was subject to receiving original sin, which is what the grace of the Immaculate Conception prevented from happening. This is why she needed a Savior while her divine Son did not.

The medieval Eastern Orthodox saint, and Thomist, Gennadios Scholarios, explained this well. He writes that, although “in accordance with the common laws of nature, she was not immune of the original sin,” i.e. Mary, unlike Jesus, was subject to receiving original sin on account of her natural conception,20 “the grace of God [nonetheless] delivered her completely from the original sin, as if she was conceived in a virginal manner… a privilege she alone, among men, had received.”21 While our Lord was actually conceived of a virgin, and thus needed no special grace to prevent His reception of original sin, our Lady was only “conceived in a virginal manner” by grace, and thus did need God’s redemptive intervention in order to enjoy the singular privilege of being “completely delivered of the original culpability and punishment.”

As such, Hamilton need not worry about the Catholic dogma having Mary “redeemed in a fundamentally different way from all others,” since the point of contact between her and the Church is the fact that she was redeemed. Indeed, Mary’s immaculate or virginal conception by grace, juxtaposed to our Lord’s immaculate or virginal conception “by nature,” is a perfect image of our own relationship to God the Son. While Jesus Christ is the “natural” Son of God, eternally born of the Father’s divinity, we are the “adopted” sons of God by grace (Rom 8:14-17). What He simply is in Himself, we can only participate in by His gracious condescension to us. This is an ecclesiological principle that the Immaculate Conception of Mary not only does not undermine, but actually highlights.

Furthermore, Hamilton’s concern about Mary’s liability to bodily death is neither here nor there. If she was freed from the curses of labor pain and lustful desire, why not other original curses like death?

Regardless of where one lands on the question of Mary’s liability to bodily death, though, the heart of the dogma of the Immaculate Conception is to preserve our Lady from ever having deserved eternal punishment. To actually reject the Catholic Church’s teaching, then, Hamilton would need to believe that Mary had original sin in the sense of “the movement of the will towards sin and the person’s active participation in that movement,” since this would be the natural state of someone who is deprived of sanctifying grace. Yet he explicitly rejects this belief as impious, and rightfully so. Thus, if one agrees, as Hamilton seems to, that Mary at no point in her life would have gone to hell if she died, that she and her divine Son have always been at “enmity” with the ancient serpent (cf. Gen 3:15), then one has no grounds for rejecting the belief that our Lady was immaculately conceived.

Now, an Eastern Orthodox theologian who truly did reject the Immaculate Conception, and whose views are thus irreconcilable with Hamilton’s, is John Maximovitch of San Francisco. This Orthodox saint taught, in an ignorant manner, that our Lady being uniquely free from original sin “makes God unmerciful and unjust; because if God could preserve Mary from sin and purify Her before Her birth, then why does He not purify other men before their birth, but rather leaves them in sin?”22 The Word of God itself rebukes such foolish impiety:

What shall we say then? Is there injustice on God’s part? By no means! For he says to Moses, “I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion.” So then it depends not on human will or exertion, but on God, who has mercy.

Romans 9:14-15

As an example of God’s election, St. Paul even cites Jacob being chosen over Esau prior to their births: “though they were not yet born and had done nothing either good or bad—in order that God’s purpose of election might continue, not because of works but because of him who calls—[Rebekah] was told, ‘The older will serve the younger’” (Rom 9:11-12). Almighty God is under no obligation to consult with John Maximovitch about what he thinks is “fair” or “just.” The Lord chose His Mother, and her alone, to be free from original sin because it was His good pleasure to do so. He needs no other reason. “Who are you, O man, to answer back to God?” (Rom 9:20).

To conclude, it’s fitting that we celebrate this glorious Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary during the season of Advent. Although He didn’t have to do it this way, our Lord chose to enter His creation through His Immaculate Mother, who, “in the first instance of her conception, by a singular grace and privilege granted by Almighty God, in view of the merits of Jesus Christ, the Savior of the human race, was preserved free from all stain of original sin.”23 This truth, which the Catholic Church has magisterially upheld for centuries,24 summarizes the entire narrative arc of salvation history, which culminated in the immaculate existence of a new Adam and a new Eve.

O most pure Virgin Mary conceived without sin, from the very first instant, you were entirely immaculate. O glorious Mary full of grace, you are the mother of my God – the Queen of Angels and of men. I humbly venerate you as the chosen mother of my Savior, Jesus Christ.

Among certain Catholic inquirers, canon 844, §§3–4 of the Latin Code of Canon Law presents a serious obstacle to their embrace of the faith:

Can. 844 §3. Catholic ministers administer the sacraments of penance, Eucharist, and anointing of the sick licitly to members of Eastern Churches which do not have full communion with the Catholic Church if they seek such on their own accord and are properly disposed. This is also valid for members of other Churches which in the judgment of the Apostolic See are in the same condition in regard to the sacraments as these Eastern Churches.

§4. If the danger of death is present or if, in the judgment of the diocesan bishop or conference of bishops, some other grave necessity urges it, Catholic ministers administer these same sacraments licitly also to other Christians not having full communion with the Catholic Church, who cannot approach a minister of their own community and who seek such on their own accord, provided that they manifest Catholic faith in respect to these sacraments and are properly disposed.

Code of Canon Law.

To anyone who’s well read in church history, and looks to the patristic age as a source of Christian truth and wisdom, this canon is quite scandalous. How can “members of Eastern Churches which do not have full communion with the Catholic Church,” i.e. non-Catholics, “licitly” receive “the sacraments of penance, Eucharist, and anointing of the sick” in the Catholic Church? Aren’t the sacraments of the Church only supposed to be for the members of the Church? If we were to transport this canon back to the first millennium, would this not entail permitting the followers of condemned sects like the Novationists, Arians, and Donatists to receive Holy Communion—something that, as a matter of historical fact, was unthinkable to the Seven Ecumenical Councils as well as the Roman pontiffs who confirmed them?1

Although this may not be a “dogmatic contradiction” per se, the modern canonical legislation of the Latin Catholic Church certainly appears to present a sharp departure from much of the disciplinary history of the Church that preceded it. Unfortunately, this is a fact that Catholic officials often pass over in silence. For example, the decree from the Second Vatican Council that first set forth the logic of canon 844 §§3–4, Orientalium Ecclesiarum, doesn’t even acknowledge, much less explain, the prior disciplinary history of the Church on this point.

However, with that said, I don’t believe that canon 844 §§3–4 is an illegitimate or sacrilegious law of the Church (God forbid). To understand why, it must first be recognized that although the canonical legislation of the Church has always implied that non-Catholics are forbidden from receiving Catholic sacraments, as far as I can tell, it never explicitly stated this in an unqualified way. Indeed, while the ordinary discipline of the Church has been to forbid Christians not visibly united to her from the sacraments, in actual practice this has almost always been nuanced.

Historical Reflection

Since the modern Code’s position on communicatio in sacris highlights “members of Eastern Churches which do not have full communion with the Catholic Church,” it’s important that we look at how the Church has historically related to these Christians when considering the matter at hand. Wilhelm De Vries, S.J., explains that the question of communicatio in sacris with separated Eastern Christians first became prominent during the Middle Ages, “primarily in those regions that were under Latin rule: the crusade cities, the Latin Empire of Constantinople, the Venetian possessions, the Island of Cyprus,”2 and so on. Somewhat surprisingly, De Vries describes the disposition of the Church at this time as “flexible.” While pontiffs such as Innocent IV (1243-1254), John XXII (1316-1334), and Urban V (1362-1370) condemned full on intercommunion with the Greek Orthodox, these same popes also allowed for Catholics and non-Catholics to engage in liturgical worship together whenever this served missionary purposes.3

Perhaps the most striking example of “medieval flexibility” on communicatio in sacris is the case of Pope Clement VI (1342-1352). De Vires states that this pontiff “gave a very general permission to Armenian priests who had returned to the Catholic Church: these he permitted to administer the sacraments among the schismatics, not in approval of their schism, - this is stated - but to lead them back to obedience to the true Church.”4 Although it’s hard for me to verify this claim (I don’t have access to the Codificazione Canonica Orientale), I haven’t found any reputable sources that contradict it. As such, this appears to be the first “canonical precedent” for allowing non-Catholics to receive sacraments in the Catholic Church.

However, it’s in the era of the Counter-Reformation that De Vires believes the Church began to adopt a more “rigorous” attitude towards communicatio in sacris. After the establishment of the Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith in 1622, there was an increasing number of separated Eastern Christians who returned to full communion with the Church. The question naturally arose of whether or not these Catholics were permitted to continue receiving the sacraments from their (former) non-Catholic ministers. This was especially pertinent in nations such as the Ottoman Empire where non-Catholic churches were the only ones legally allowed to operate.

Much to the dismay of certain missionaries, Rome’s judgment was decidedly negative. Even when it was morally impossible to regularly receive the sacraments from a Catholic minister, the Congregation of Propaganda, with the authority of Pope Urban VIII, forbade Catholics from receiving the sacraments from non-Catholic ministers. Missionaries such as the martyr Bl. Agathangelus of Vendome believed this policy was pastorally irresponsible.5 Nonetheless, this “rigorous” policy would culminate in a decree from Propaganda in 1729 that forbade “even merely passive participation” in non-Catholic liturgical services. However, later pontiffs such as Benedict XIV (1740-1758) did clarify that this ban on communicatio in sacris wasn’t absolute.6

What’s important to note about Rome’s “rigorous” judgments against communicatio in sacris during this time is that they all appear to be with respect to Catholics participating in non-Catholic worship. This is largely because there was suspicion about the particular rites that non-Catholics used and whether or not Catholics could participate in such rites without causing scandal or confirming schismatics in their schism (consider the Armenians who were known for liturgically denouncing the Council of Chalcedon and St. Leo the Great on certain feast days). However, the inverse, i.e. non-Catholics participating in Catholic worship, which is the primary subject of this article, was more nuanced even during this era of increased “rigorism.”

Less than a decade ago, the late Metropolitan Kallistos Ware wrote a fascinating article entitled, “Orthodox and Catholics in the Seventeenth Century: Schism or Intercommunion?.” Ware notes that, even though the Catholic Church considered the 17th century Greek Church to be schismatic, relations between actual Latins and actual Greeks on the ground were much less black and white:

There were not only mixed marriages between Greeks and Latins: in many Greek islands there were also mixed churches, with parallel naves and two adjacent sanctuaries, one for the Greek and the other for the Latin rite. Roman Catholics were accepted as godparents at orthodox baptisms, and vice-versa.

Latin missionaries from the west, in the absence of a bishop of their own Church, behaved towards the local orthodox hierarch as if they recognised him for their ordinary, seeking faculties from him, asking formally for permission to work in his diocese. The orthodox authorities on their side welcomed the Jesuits and other religious orders as friends and allies, and even took the initiative in summoning them to undertake pastoral duties among their flocks.

With the blessing of the Greek bishops, catholic priests preached in orthodox churches, heard the confessions of orthodox faithful, and gave them holy communion.

When Greeks wished to embrace Roman Catholicism, the Latin missionaries usually rested content with a secret act of submission, and instructed their converts to receive the sacraments as before at orthodox altars. In the light of all this, the question can scarcely be avoided: How far is it legitimate to speak of a definitive schism or irrevocable breach between Orthodoxy and Rome in the seventeenth century?

Metropolitan Kallistos Ware, “Orthodox and Catholics in the Seventeenth Century: Schism or Intercommunion?.”

Commenting further on the reception of the Jesuits by Greek Orthodox authorities in the 17th century, Ware documents a somewhat surprising historical reality:

The western missionaries were in demand not only as preachers but as confessors. A Jesuit priest on Santorini claimed to have heard the confessions of some 400 Greeks in the space of four years;18 another in Naxos spoke of confessing 600 Greeks in a much shorter period.19 One reason for their popularity – or so the Jesuits themselves claimed – was that, unlike the Greek clergy, they did not demand money from their penitents!20

Now the hearing of confessions is manifestly a more delicate matter than the preaching of sermons: it is one thing to deliver a sermon to schismatics, but quite another to pronounce absolution on someone who chooses to remain formally in schism. Yet the Jesuits adopted an exceedingly lenient view.

As a general rule they put no questions to their Greek penitents concerning the Church of Rome; still less did they demand of them any explicit abjuration of schism or act of submission to the Holy See. So long as they detected no evidence of active personal hostility against the papacy, they prudently refrained from inquiring into the dogmatic convictions of the Greeks who came to them for absolution.

Metropolitan Kallistos Ware, “Orthodox and Catholics in the Seventeenth Century: Schism or Intercommunion?.”

This might be quite shocking to those who aren’t familiar with the history. Although the 17th century Greeks and Latins technically were “in schism” as a result of the former rejecting the councils of Lyons II and Florence, the clergy and the faithful of both churches didn’t always treat each other as schismatics.

Two 17th century Catholic missionaries, Angelo Maria Verricelli and Leo Allatius, even wrote treatises in defense of the communicatio in sacris that was going on with the Greek Orthodox during this time. They justified it in much the same way that theologians of the 20th century would go on to:

Because certain individual Greeks have endeavoured to spread some ancient or freshly invented heresy, and have inveighed against the papacy in their published writings, it does not therefore follow that the Greek Church is separated from the Church of Rome.

Leo Allatius, loannes Henricus Hottingerus Fraudis, & Imposturae Manifestae Convictus (Rome 1661) pp 6-7, qtd. in Ware, “Orthodox and Catholics in the Seventeenth Century: Schism or Intercommunion?.”

Just because there were many schismatics and heretics in the 17th century Greek Church, it didn’t follow that every single Greek Orthodox Christian was a schismatic or a heretic. It thus seemed natural to conclude that, among those Greeks who weren’t formally schismatics or heretics, they could receive sacraments in the Catholic Church. Not only were neither of these men condemned by Rome for their positions, but Leo Allatius was financially supported by Pope Gregory XV and was even appointed as the custodian of the Vatican library by Pope Alexander VII in 1661.

In his 1948 work, The Communication of Catholics with Schismatics, Fr. Ignatius Szal affirms that even St. Robert Bellarmine (d. 1621) reluctantly supported the practice of admitting schismatics to confession. The saintly cardinal wrote, “If the penitents say that they know nothing (about the controversies between the Greeks and Latins), and if they really appear to be totally uneducated, then perhaps one can hear their confession and leave them in their ignorance.”7 This practice of granting absolution to Orthodox Christians who were separated from the Church “in good faith” was further supported by the judgments of Pope Pius IV in 1561 and Propaganda in 1643. Both of these required only some general profession of faith from schismatics in order for them to be absolved. De Vires outlines what this looked like in practice:

If the penitents were simple people, many Jesuits would ask in confession only if they believed all that the holy Fathers had taught. Naturally the people would say that they did without difficulty, and thereupon the fathers gave them absolution.

Wilhelm De Vries, S.J., Communicatio in Sacris: An Historical Study of the Problem of Liturgical Services in Common with Eastern Christians Separated from Rome.

However, this did eventually cease. Already by 1665, the Holy Office began to require schismatic penitents to recite the profession of faith of Urban VIII publicly, outside of confession, before absolution. Coupled with the strong stance against communicatio in sacris taken by Propaganda in 1729 (and again in 1753), the Jesuits’ lenience towards non-Catholics partaking in Catholic sacraments greatly eroded.

But not completely. It is true that, according to the 1917 Code of Canon Law issued by Pope St. Pius X, “It is forbidden that the Sacraments of the Church be ministered to heretics and schismatics, even if they ask for them and are in good faith, unless beforehand, rejecting their errors, they are reconciled with the Church.”8 However, Fr. Szal clarifies that while the “prohibition of canon 731, §2, is general,” it only admits of no exceptions “when a schismatic is not in danger of death.” The pre-conciliar canonist continues, “When a schismatic is in danger of death, the situation is somewhat altered. In these circumstances the Church, in its efforts to save all men, allows some exceptions to its general prohibition.”9 Citing judgments from the Holy Office in 1898, 1916, and 1941, Fr. Szal concludes:

[I]t is evident that the Holy See requires an abjuration of error and a profession of faith from a schismatic even in danger of death when he is in the possession of his senses. These acts must be express, but they need not be explicit. The abjuration of error and the profession of faith are contained implicitly in acts of the penitent by which he manifests at least attrition for sin and shows himself prepared to do all things necessary for salvation. This opinion is sustained by weighty authors.

Fr. Ignatius Szal, The Communication of Catholics with Schismatics, 158.

In other words, all that was needed to administer the sacrament of reconciliation to a physically endangered schismatic was that he showed himself to be properly disposed in some way. It didn’t require an “explicit” renunciation of the schismatic’s errors, nor did it require his formal reception into the Catholic Church. According to Fr. Szal’s interpretation of the Holy Office’s rulings, a non-Catholic who was separated from the Church in good faith could partake of Catholic sacraments if he was in danger of death, sought them of his own accord, and was properly disposed.

Nor was Fr. Szal alone in his understanding of canon 731 of the 1917 Code. He further cites the instructions that Bp. Neveu, Administrator Apostolic of Moscow, gave in 1939 to Catholic army chaplains who were ministering to Russian Orthodox Christians on the front lines of World War II:

Dear soldier priests, you have only to deal with a man who has recourse to your ministry as you would deal with a Catholic and brother in the faith. If he is wounded or gravely ill, make sure of his good faith, which you may anyhow presume. Make him make an act of faith as explicitly as possible in the authority of the visible head of the Church, and hear his confession as well as you can. A decree of the Holy Office of July 20, 1898, allows the absolution of material schismatics in good faith, provided there be no scandal. All the more may we absolve a Christian who declares that he wants to live and die in communion with the Universal Church and the Vicar of Christ. You may then content yourselves with the general and ordinary formula of absolution... Then give him extreme unction and the Viaticum, if there is time, and have no hesitation in giving him the honor of a Catholic funeral.

The Tablet, November 11, 1939, pp. 548-549, qtd. in Fr. Szal, 159.

As Fr. Szal explains, “This instruction is of interest both because of the official source from which it comes and inasmuch as it seems to encourage the priest to take a broad view of the phrase ‘as explicitly as possible.’”10 That is to say, like Fr. Szal, Bp. Neveu interpreted the Holy Office as allowing for schismatics in danger of death to partake of the sacraments even if they didn’t “explicitly” renounce their errors. Of course, the more explicit the schismatic’s profession of faith, the better. However, similar to the 17th century Jesuits, Bp. Neveu took a rather “broad view” of what counted as a profession of faith from a physically endangered “material schismatic.”

With this historical context in mind, one can see that the modern Code’s canon 844 §§3–4 is not actually as out of step with the historic practice of the Church as it first appears. In fact, the only practical difference between canon 844 of the 1983 Code and canon 731 of the 1917 Code (in light of the Holy Office’s judgments) seems to be that the former allows more circumstances under which non-Catholics may partake of Catholic sacraments than just “the danger of death.” This modern discipline itself can be seen as continuous with the practice of the 17th century Church, and the thought of men such as Verricelli, Allatius, and even Bellarmine.

Canonical Reflection

According to Canon 844, §§3–4 of the 1983 Code of Canon Law, there are (generally) four conditions that must be met in order for a non-Catholic to “licitly” receive sacraments in the Catholic Church:

1. He must be a baptized Christian who belongs to a church or an ecclesial community that’s in some way recognized by the proper Catholic authorities.11

2. He must seek these sacraments of his own accord.

3. He must manifest Catholic faith with respect to the sacraments he’s receiving (e.g. believe in transubstantiation if he’s receiving the Eucharist).12

4. He must be “properly disposed,” i.e. in the state of grace.

The most notable of these requirements is the last one. In order for a non-Catholic to licitly receive sacraments in the Catholic Church, he must be just as “properly disposed” as a Catholic who partakes of the sacraments. This makes good sense. It would be an act of sacrilege for a Catholic minister to knowingly administer the sacraments to someone who’s in a state of manifest grave sin, regardless of their personal ecclesial standing. Indeed, because the non-Catholic is partaking of sacraments within the jurisdiction of the Church, they appear to be subject to the laws that this same Church has established surrounding those sacraments.

With respect to the Holy Eucharist, what it means to be “properly disposed” for partaking of this glorious sacrament is laid out in canons 915 and 916:

Can. 915 Those who have been excommunicated or interdicted after the imposition or declaration of the penalty and others obstinately persevering in manifest grave sin are not to be admitted to holy communion.

Can. 916 A person who is conscious of grave sin is not to celebrate Mass or receive the body of the Lord without previous sacramental confession unless there is a grave reason and there is no opportunity to confess; in this case the person is to remember the obligation to make an act of perfect contrition which includes the resolution of confessing as soon as possible.

Code of Canon Law.

If someone obstinately persists in manifest grave sin without receiving absolution from a priest in confession (when morally possible), he cannot partake of the Holy Eucharist, or any of the sacraments for that matter. Since these canons help define what it means to be “properly disposed” for the Eucharist, one cannot escape the conclusion that even those non-Catholics who are permitted access to Catholic sacraments in canon 844 §§3–4 are bound by these requirements.

At this point, we must highlight two “manifest grave sins” in which non-Catholics are, unfortunately, very likely to persist. The Code of Canon Law defines heresy and schism in the following manner:

Can. 751 Heresy is the obstinate denial or obstinate doubt after the reception of baptism of some truth which is to be believed by divine and Catholic faith; apostasy is the total repudiation of the Christian faith; schism is the refusal of submission to the Supreme Pontiff or of communion with the members of the Church subject to him.

Code of Canon Law.

Imagine someone who knows that the Catholic Church dogmatically teaches that the Blessed Virgin Mary was conceived without original sin, but decides that he disagrees with this teaching. Should such a person be permitted to Holy Communion? According to canon law, and just common sense, the answer is obviously no. Someone who obstinately denies a divinely revealed truth, like the Immaculate Conception of Mary, is considered a heretic by the Church, that is, someone who is in “manifest grave sin.”13 Such a person cannot be permitted to the Eucharist.

Of course, it’s possible that someone might just not know that the Catholic Church dogmatically teaches the Immaculate Conception. However, the moment a pastor finds out that someone seeking the sacraments from him does not “profess the true faith,” he is bound to see to it that they are “instructed in the truths of the faith.”14 After this happens, ignorance is no longer an excuse for denying the truths of the faith, and so if this hypothetical man seeking the sacraments persists in his denial of divinely revealed truths, he is to be considered “obstinate.” That is, he would be canonically considered as a heretic, and therefore not “properly disposed” for the sacraments on account of his “manifest grave sin.” This would be true for a non-Catholic as much as it would be true for a fully initiated Catholic.

To be sure, in making these canonical determinations, pastors would not be judging people’s souls. The Council of Trent teaches that, apart from special revelation, one cannot even be infallibly certain of the state of his own soul,15 much less the states of others’ souls. However, pastors need not peer into the hearts of men in order to make judgments about who is and who is not permitted to the Eucharist. Since the sacraments are visible signs of an invisible reality, a pastor must only judge the visible, external signs that flow from an individual’s heart. The obstinate denial of divinely revealed truths like the Trinity, the Immaculate Conception, papal infallibility, the Filioque, etc., would indeed be a visible sign that a pastor could judge as rendering someone not “properly disposed” for the sacraments.

This same line of reasoning would apply equally to those who are, canonically, schismatics. Quite simply, “schism is the refusal of submission to the Supreme Pontiff or of communion with the members of the Church subject to him.” As such, if a pastor discovers that someone seeking the sacraments from him does not profess obedience to the Roman pontiff, or that he rejects communion with other Catholics and or their hierarchs, that pastor cannot permit such a person to receive the sacraments. Once again, this is because persistence in schism is a “manifest grave sin” that renders one not “properly disposed,” which is a visible state that disqualifies both Catholics and non-Catholics alike from the sacraments.

On top of this, we also have to come to terms with the harsh reality that there are many other grave sins that non-Catholics are not only likely to fall into, but also not confess to a priest because they dissent from Catholic moral teaching. Whether it be an Eastern Orthodox man who contracepts with his wife, or an “Old Catholic” who’s on his second or third “marriage,” these are among the reasons that pastors might judge non-Catholics seeking the sacraments to be not in accord with the conditions laid out by canon 844 §§3–4. This isn’t even to mention non-Catholics from among the Protestant sects that don’t believe in sacramental confession. Unless a pastor has reason to believe that a person who belongs to such a sect has never committed a grave sin since they were baptized, he should under no circumstances permit someone to receive the other sacraments who refuses the sacrament of penance.

Personal Reflection

To whom, then, would canon 844 §§3–4 actually apply? I must admit that I’m not entirely certain. As shown above, there were Catholic pastors in the 17th century who believed that they had found Greek Orthodox Christians who would likely fulfill the criteria laid out by modern canon law. Those who, despite belonging to a canonically questionable sect, nonetheless did not obstinately deny any articles of the Catholic faith, did not refuse submission to Catholic authorities, and did not persevere in any other manifest grave sins. Even into the 19th and 20th centuries there were Catholic pastors who likewise administered the sacraments to such people when they were mortally endangered. Did such people actually exist? Do any such people actually exist today? That’s a question that I’ll leave up to the pastors of the Church. However, it does seem possible in theory, if incredibly rare.

Anecdotally, I can speak for myself as perhaps having met the criteria of canon 844 §3 at one point. Prior to my conversion to Catholicism, I was Eastern Orthodox. And so there was indeed a brief period of time during which (1) I had not yet formally entered the Catholic Church, (2) I was still attending my Orthodox parish (to ensure that everything was in order logistically before my departure), and yet (3) I fully accepted the Catholic faith and had no interior lack of submission to Rome. Could I have lawfully received “the sacraments of penance, Eucharist, and anointing of the sick” from a Catholic priest during this time? I would think so. I personally know of others who were in similar situations at one time or another. Thus, I don’t think that canon 844 §§3–4 is completely inapplicable. That said, I still do question the prudence of such a canon in the modern day.

Personally, I know of cases where this canon has been abused. It’s often in the context of a wedding between a Catholic and a non-Catholic where relatives from both sides take advantage of canon 844 §3 so they can all receive the Eucharist together. This is done without any regard for whether or not those receiving the Holy Eucharist are properly disposed or even manifest Catholic faith in the sacrament itself. I also know of cases where a Catholic convert to Lutheranism has decided to receive the Eucharist at a Catholic Mass despite not having been to confession in decades, making it almost morally certain that the Body of Christ was received unworthily. Is any of this actually good for the spiritual wellbeing of these people?

Prior to the 20th century, non-Catholics who approached a Catholic minister for the sacraments were always required to make some profession of faith. In our modern era, when schism and heresy are perhaps more rampant than they ever have been, is it truly pastoral to remove this as a prerequisite? I understand that there can be cases where it’s better to “leave them in their ignorance” as Bellarmine would have it, but how frequent are those cases? I’m not a pastor so I can’t say for sure. What I can say for sure is that, when canon 844 §3 probably did apply to me personally, I did not feel spiritually comfortable taking advantage of it.

When considering matters of canon law, we always have to keep in mind that the law doesn’t exist for its own sake, nor does it exist for us to find loopholes in it that enable us to satisfy our modern idols of “tolerance” and “inclusivity.” Rather, it’s “the salvation of souls” that “must always be the supreme law in the Church.”16 We are not to be “legalists,” clinging to the letter of the law so we can appease the sensibilities of modern man, rather we are to apply the spirit of the law for the spiritual good of the people who are subject to it. It’s simply not conducive to the spiritual good of non-Catholics if they are given the impression that they can approach a Catholic minister for the sacraments while simultaneously persevering in grave sin, whether that sin be obstinate heresy, schism, or some species of unchastity. I fear that canon 844 §§3–4, while not inherently sacrilegious, nonetheless has the potential to obscure our Lord’s call to repentance and conversion.

At the end of the day, since the Second Vatican Council made it clear that there can be baptized individuals who aren’t visible members of the Catholic Church, who nonetheless might be in the state of grace, we do have to be open to the possibility that such individuals (if they exist) could be welcomed to the Church’s sacraments. After all, if a man is baptized, in the state of grace, and not under any canonical penalties, then he cannot be denied the sacraments. Yet at the same time, we have to be honest with ourselves about the motivations behind certain applications of canon law. The pastor of souls must always ask himself if he truly believes that he’s applying the law to foster the repentance, conversion, and salvation of others, or if he’s just legalistically serving some ulterior motive, however noble it might be.

Isaiah and Psalm 51

Isaiah makes extensive use of Psalm 51 (50 LXX). One way we know this is from a famous passage in the opening lines of Isaiah: “though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow [כַּשֶּׁ֣לֶג יַלְבִּ֔ינוּ]” (Isa 1:18). The word “snow” is already quite rare in Scripture, however, there’s only one other place in the entire Bible where the Hebrew words “white” and “snow” are used together,1 and that’s in Psalm 51:7, “wash me and I shall be made whiter than snow [וּמִשֶּׁ֥לֶג אַלְבִּֽין].” This parallel use of unique language is hard to write off as coincidental, and it’s only the beginning.

Psalm 51 likewise starts off with a famous passage: “Have mercy on me, O God… according to your abundant mercy blot out [מְחֵ֣ה] my transgressions” (Ps 51:1). The Hebrew word for “blot out” is almost always used in negative contexts. Its first appearance is in Genesis 6-7 where it refers to the Great Flood “blotting out” all life on earth; it’s then used negatively again in Exodus 17:14, “I will utterly blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven”; in Exodus 32:33, “Whoever has sinned against me, I will blot out of my book”; in Deuteronomy 9:14, “Let me alone, that I may destroy them and blot out their name from under heaven”; and many more places (cf. Deut 25:6; Judg 21:17; 2 Kgs 21:13; Ps 9:5).

Given its typically dark connotation, “blot out” being used in a positive context, as it is in Psalm 51:1, draws attention. Indeed, one of the only other places this phrase is used positively is in Isaiah 42:22, “I have blotted out [מָחִ֤יתִי] your transgressions like a cloud and your sins like mist; return to me, for I have redeemed you.” And the connections between Isaiah and Psalm 51 don’t end here.

In Isaiah 6, the prophet enters the heavenly throne room and laments that he is “a man of unclean lip” (Isa 6:5). The seraph, the “burning one,” then resolves this by placing a “burning” coal in Isaiah’s mouth and telling him, “Behold, this has touched your lips; your sin is taken away” (Isa 6:7). The burning coal touching Isaiah’s lips constitutes him as one of the burning ones, one of the seraphim. What do the seraphim do in heaven? They sing the praises of God, “holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of His glory!” (Isa 6:3). Hence throughout his prophecy, Isaiah sings of God with his idiosyncratic phrase, “the Holy One of Israel” (Isa 1:4; 5:19, 24; 10:20; 12:6; 17:7; 29:19, 23; 30:11, 12, 15; 31:1; 37:23; 41:14, 16, 20; 43:3, 14; 45:11; 47:4; 48:17; 49:7; 54:5; 55:5; 60:9, 14).2 Through the purging away of his sins, Isaiah joins the chorus of the burning ones, singing “holy, holy, holy” along with them.

Psalm 51 describes something similar. Like Isaiah, David asks to be “delivered” from his iniquity so that “my tongue will sing aloud of your righteousness” (Ps 51:14). He asks directly, “O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise” (Ps 51:15). David recognizes that he too is “a man of unclean lip,” a man who needs to be “purged” by the Lord’s fiery salvation in order that he might join in with the angelic choir.

The Messiah in Isaiah and Psalm 51

Consider that the very framing of Isaiah is taken from Psalm 51. The prophecy begins with the Lord lamenting the sacrifices and feasts of Israel:

¹¹ “What to me is the multitude of your sacrifices?
says the Lord;
I have had enough of burnt offerings of rams
and the fat of well-fed beasts;
I do not delight [חָפָֽצְתִּי] in the blood of bulls,
or of lambs, or of goats.

¹² “When you come to appear before me,
who has required of you
this trampling of my courts?
¹³ Bring no more vain offerings;
incense is an abomination to me.
New moon and Sabbath and the calling of convocations—
I cannot endure iniquity and solemn assembly.
¹⁴ Your new moons and your appointed feasts
my soul hates;
they have become a burden to me;
I am weary of bearing them.”

Isaiah 1:11-14

But then it ends with something of an inversion:

²⁰ And they shall bring all your brothers from all the nations as an offering to the Lord, on horses and in chariots and in litters and on mules and on dromedaries, to my holy mountain Jerusalem, says the Lord, just as the Israelites bring their grain offering in a clean vessel to the house of the Lord. ²¹ And some of them also I will take for priests and for Levites, says the Lord.

²² “For as the new heavens and the new earth
that I make
shall remain before me, says the Lord,
so shall your offspring and your name remain.
²³ From new moon to new moon,
and from Sabbath to Sabbath,
all flesh shall come to worship before me,
declares the Lord.

Isaiah 66:20-23

Isaiah first describes how the Lord has “had enough of burnt offerings,” that He no longer “delights” in sacrifices. However, through the coming of a prophesied new covenant, God will relent and once again accept His people themselves “as an offering to the Lord.” Indeed, as a kind of “grain offering.” The prophet first laments how the Lord “hates” and despises the “new moon and Sabbath” feasts of Israel. But through the new covenant, “all flesh” shall come to worship God “from new moon to new moon, and from Sabbath to Sabbath.” Somehow, the new covenant that God makes with His people is going to completely transform Israel’s liturgical worship, enabling the Lord to once again “delight” in sacrifices.

This inclusio that frames all of Isaiah was taken directly from the end of Psalm 51. Read it for yourself:

¹⁶ For you will not delight [תִרְצֶֽה] in sacrifice, or I would give it;
you will not be pleased with a burnt offering.
¹⁷ The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

¹⁸ Do good to Zion in your good pleasure;
build up the walls of Jerusalem;
¹⁹ then will you delight in right sacrifices,
in burnt offerings and whole burnt offerings;
then bulls will be offered on your altar.

Psalm 51:16-19

As in Isaiah, David describes how the Lord does not “delight” in old covenant sacrifices (same word), how He is “not pleased” with “burnt offerings.” However, just as a new covenant with the “house of David” changes this in Isaiah (cf. Isa 7:13-14), so too does the Lord doing “good to Zion” and “build[ing] up the walls of Jerusalem” change this in Psalm 51. Throughout the Psalms, “Zion” is code for the Lord’s faithfulness to the Davidic covenant (Ps 2:6; 48:1-2, 8, 12-14). This is seen most dramatically in Psalm 132:8-18 when the Lord declares that He “has chosen Zion” to be His “resting place forever,” and “there I will make a horn to sprout for David.”

What it means for the Lord to “do good to Zion” is for Him to send His anointed one, His messiah, His Christ. The Christ will be the one who restores Israel’s liturgical system to its rightful place as the true worship of God. The fact that Isaiah draws on this psalm to structure his prophecy should absolutely inform the way we read the traditionally identified “messianic” texts of Isaiah.

Consider Psalm 51:17, “Then I will teach transgressors [פֹשְׁעִ֣ים] your ways, and sinners will return to you.” The exact form of this Hebrew word for “transgressors” (not including vowels) isn’t very common in the Old Testament. However, it shows up no less than four times in the book of Isaiah (Isa 1:28; 46:8; 53:12). The last instance of which is quite significant:

¹² Therefore I will divide him a portion with the many,
and he shall divide the spoil with the strong,
because he poured out his soul to death
and was numbered with the transgressors [פֹּשְׁעִ֖ים];
yet he bore the sin of many,
and makes intercession for the transgressors [וְלַפֹּשְׁעִ֖ים].

Isaiah 53:12

We now have reason to believe that in Isaiah 53’s famous “Suffering Servant” prophecy, a direct allusion is being made to the Davidic Psalm 51. Whereas David is the one who “teaches transgressors” the ways of the Lord in Psalm 51, Isaiah identifies the Suffering Servant, the Davidic Messiah, as the one who will ultimately teach “the transgressors” about God’s mercy. Through bearing the sins of many and interceding for them, Isaiah’s Suffering Servant is the one who brings David’s prophecy to fulfillment, “sinners will return to [the Lord]” (Ps 51:17).

I believe there’s another connection one can draw between the Suffering Servant and Psalm 51. Consider this famous line about the Servant:

⁵ But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was crushed [מְדֻכָּ֖א] for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed. […]

¹⁰ Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush [דַּכְּאוֹ֙] him;
he has put him to grief;
when his soul makes an offering for guilt,
he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days;
the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand.

Isaiah 53:5, 10

The words that translate to “crush” in both of these passages are from the Hebrew word דָּכָא (dāḵā’). This is extremely closely related in both spelling and meaning to the Hebrew word דָּכָה (dāḵāh), which shows up twice in Psalm 51:

⁸ Let me hear joy and gladness;
let the bones that you have broken [דִּכִּֽיתָ] rejoice. […]

¹⁷ The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite [וְנִדְכֶּ֑ה] heart, O God, you will not despise.

Psalm 51:8, 17

David speaks of bones that the Lord has “broken” or “crushed,” and then identifies these as the man who has a “contrite,” or literally a “crushed” heart. This maps well onto Isaiah’s identification of the Servant as the man whom the Lord wills to “crush.” The man who is “crushed for our iniquities,” or perhaps, contrite for our sins.

Notably, there’s another closely related Hebrew word that shows up in an Isaianic text that sounds all too similar to Psalm 51:

² But this is the one to whom I will look:
he who is humble and contrite [וּנְכֵה־] in spirit
and trembles at my word.

³ “He who slaughters an ox is like one who kills a man;
he who sacrifices a lamb, like one who breaks a dog’s neck;
he who presents a grain offering, like one who offers pig’s blood;
he who makes a memorial offering of frankincense, like one who blesses an idol.
These have chosen their own ways,
and their soul delights in their abominations;

Isaiah 66:2-3

Although the word for “contrite” here is different, נְכֵה (nəḵēh) as opposed to דָּכָה (dāḵāh), the addition of the broken “spirit,” ר֪וּחַ in both cases, makes the association hard to ignore. Not only this, but just look at the context. In both Psalm 51:16-17 and Isaiah 66:2-3, it’s the man with a “contrite spirit” who’s acceptable to the Lord, and not the man who presents old covenant “sacrifices” and “offerings.” This appears to demonstrate that Isaiah wrote his prophecy with the broken-hearted man of Psalm 51 in mind, making the connection described above between this man and the Suffering Servant all the more likely.

This connection perhaps allows us to use Psalm 51:17-18 as a hermeneutic for how Isaiah envisions the restoration of Israel: “a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise. Do good to Zion in your good pleasure; build up the walls of Jerusalem; then will you delight in right sacrifices.” Somehow, the man with a contrite or crushed heart, the man whom the Lord wills to crush, will be instrumental in restoring Zion to glory and salvation. He will be the one who once again enables the offering of “right sacrifices” to the Lord.

The Eucharistic Sacrifice in Isaiah and Psalm 51

I cannot fail to note how Isaiah takes up Psalm 51:18 as a truly central theme, “Do good to Zion in your good pleasure; build up the walls of Jerusalem; then will you delight in right sacrifices.” The restoration of Zion and or Jerusalem allowing the Lord to again sacrificially feast with His people is plastered all over Isaiah’s prophecies. One of the more prominent instances of this is in the so-called “Apocalypse of Isaiah”:

²³Then the moon will be confounded
and the sun ashamed,
for the Lord of hosts reigns
on Mount Zion and in Jerusalem,
and his glory will be before his elders.

[…]

⁶On this mountain [Zion] the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples
a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wine,
of rich food full of marrow, of aged wine well refined.
⁷ And he will swallow up on this mountain
the covering that is cast over all peoples,
the veil that is spread over all nations.
⁸ He will swallow up death forever;
and the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces,
and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the earth,
for the Lord has spoken.

[…]

¹In that day this song will be sung in the land of Judah:

“We have a strong city;
he sets up salvation
as walls and bulwarks.”

Isaiah 24:23; 25:6-8; 26:1

What Psalm 51 condenses into a single line, Isaiah expands into an entire apocalyptic narrative. If we consider that these eschatological events are almost certainly the same ones that are described in Isaiah 60-66, wherein “the new heavens and the new earth” are formed, and “all flesh” comes to worship God on His “holy mountain Jerusalem,” we can interpret what’s going on here with more clarity.

As stated above, Isaiah 66:2 declares that it’s only “he who is humble and contrite in spirit” who’s acceptable to the Lord. The next verse then contrasts this with a man who tries to offer oxen, lambs, and grain before God (Isa 66:3). That is, someone who tries to bring his own sacrificial food to the Lord’s banquet. The Lord doesn’t want our food, He wants our hearts. However, this doesn’t mean that there isn’t going to be a banquet! Instead, as Isaiah 25:6-8 attests, it’s the Lord Himself who will provide “for all peoples… a feast of rich food.” If I may appropriate the language of Genesis 22:8, one could say that, for Isaiah, “God Himself will provide the lamb.”

This was foreshadowed in the prophetic call of Isaiah himself. The Lord didn’t demand any sacrifices from Isaiah in order for him to access the heavenly Holy of Holies, rather all the prophet needed was a broken and a contrite heart: “Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips” (Isa 6:5). This humility and contrition is what allowed God (through the seraph) to “feed” Isaiah the burning coal. Where was the coal? On “the altar” (Isa 6:6). The Lord fed Isaiah right from His own table! The prophet was set ablaze with divine glory at the “banquet” of the Lord.

Is this not precisely what Isaiah 66:15-24 describes?

¹⁵ “For behold, the Lord will come in fire,
and his chariots like the whirlwind,
to render his anger in fury,
and his rebuke with flames of fire.
¹⁶ For by fire will the Lord enter into judgment,
and by his sword, with all flesh;
and those slain by the Lord shall be many.

¹⁷ “Those who sanctify and purify themselves to go into the gardens, following one in the midst, eating pig’s flesh and the abomination and mice, shall come to an end together, declares the Lord. […]

²⁰ And they shall bring all your brothers from all the nations as an offering to the Lord, on horses and in chariots and in litters and on mules and on dromedaries, to my holy mountain Jerusalem, says the Lord, just as the Israelites bring their grain offering in a clean vessel to the house of the Lord. ²¹ And some of them also I will take for priests and for Levites, says the Lord.

Isaiah 66:15-17, 20-21

Just like Isaiah himself, the Lord’s people are corporately going to be set ablaze by the fiery “banquet” of God. This is the true “burnt offering” that the Lord desires. However, note the curious detail about the Israelites who return from their exile among the nations: “some of them also I will take for priests and for Levites.” This tells us that Israel’s liturgical system isn’t going to be eradicated by this new covenant; as if the “literal” sacrifices get replaced with mere “spiritual” sacrifices. Rather, the ritual worship of God’s people is going to be transformed.

Priests and Levites, those who ritually offer sacrifice, aren’t going away, and they’re not simply being replaced by all of the Lord’s people either (since there remain only “some” from among the people who fulfill this ministry, not all). Instead, there will be Gentile-assimilated “Israelites” who serve in the Levitical priesthood. The significance of this cannot be overstated. This means that there will be non-Levites serving as priests and Levites! I would even argue that this means that there will be Gentiles fulfilling Israel’s unique priestly ministry. This clearly entails some kind of radical transformation of Israel’s sacrificial cult.

Indeed, the Lord says that His banquet of rich food will be “for all peoples” (Isa 25:6). This is a sacrificial banquet. If you don’t believe me, consider the preceding context: “the Lord of hosts reigns on Mount Zion and in Jerusalem, and his glory will be before his elders” (Isa 24:23). Isaiah 24-25’s imagery of God’s “glory” passing before His “elders” in the context of a great “feast” on “the mountain of the Lord” calls us back to Exodus 24. In this well-known story, Moses and the seventy “elders” ascended up the “mountain” of God, Mount Sinai (Ex 24:1-2). Once near the top, “they saw the God of Israel… they beheld God, and ate and drank” (Ex 24:10-11), after which “the glory of the Lord” appeared “like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain in the sight of the people of Israel” (Ex 24:17). What else happened in this story?

⁶ And Moses took half of the blood and put it in basins, and half of the blood he threw against the altar. ⁷ Then he took the Book of the Covenant and read it in the hearing of the people. And they said, “All that the Lord has spoken we will do, and we will be obedient.” ⁸ And Moses took the blood and threw it on the people and said, “Behold the blood of the covenant that the Lord has made with you in accordance with all these words.”

Exodus 24:6-8

Yes, this is the ratification of the Sinai covenant. The elders, the glory of the Lord, the mountain of the Lord, the great feast, the fiery presence of God—all of Isaiah’s imagery concerning the new covenant that eschatologically restores Zion is taken from the Sinai covenant’s ratification in sacrificial blood.

As such, it would be strange if Isaiah didn’t likewise envision his new covenant feast as being ratified in sacrificial blood. This is where we can circle back to Psalm 51. Recall the “logic” of this psalm with which Isaiah operates: the Lord despises sacrifices (Ps 51:16), but accepts a “crushed” heart as a true “sacrifice” (Ps 51:17). In Isaiah, there’s only one place where a crushed heart is identified as a literal sacrifice:

¹⁰ Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him;
he has put him to grief;
when his soul makes an offering for guilt,
he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days;
the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand.

Isaiah 53:10

Once again, we come back to the Suffering Servant. It was already shown above how Isaiah almost certainly had Psalm 51 in mind when speaking of the Servant as the one whom the Lord wills to “crush.” However, what I didn’t explicitly mention is that, just as Psalm 51:17 describes the crushed man as a true “sacrifice,” so does Isaiah 53:10 describe the crushed Servant as a true “offering for guilt,” אָשָׁם֙. This is the very word used in Leviticus 5-7 to describe the sacrificial “guilt offering.”

Above I merely appropriated the language of Genesis 22:8, but here I must offer a more direct interpretation. The first time we ever see a guilt offering in Scripture is in the story of Abraham and Isaac. After the Angel of the Lord stopped Abraham from sacrificing his only beloved son, “a ram” was found, “caught in a thicket by his horns,” wearing a crown of thorns. Abraham took this ram and “offered it up as a burnt offering instead of his son” (Gen 22:13). The ram is the sacrificial animal prescribed for guilt offerings (Lev 5:15-16, 18). Thus, the first time we ever see a guilt offering is in the context of an only beloved son (Gen 22:2), carrying his own sacrificial wood up a mountain in Jerusalem (Gen 22:6), ready to offer himself as a literal sacrificial victim in obedience to his father.3 Is it therefore crazy to believe that the “guilt offering” made by Isaiah’s Suffering Servant might be something similar? I think not.

If the first time Scripture ever presents us with a guilt offering it surrounds a quasi-human sacrifice, and then we see a man who “poured out his soul to death” (Isa 53:12) being described as this exact kind of sacrifice, why can’t we draw the obvious conclusion? Isaiah envisions this man’s sacrifice, the sacrifice of the Suffering Servant, as the fulfillment of Genesis 22:8, “God will provide Himself, the lamb.”4 The Servant’s blood is the true offering of the new and everlasting covenant. His crushed and contrite Heart is what does good to Zion and builds up the walls of Jerusalem. His sacrificial blood is what ratifies the Lord’s covenantal feast on His holy mountain.

At this point, I’ll stop teasing. Only a simpleton could fail to see how Jesus of Nazareth brought all of this together at the Last Supper. We know the story:

On the day before he was to suffer, he took bread in his holy and venerable hands, with eyes raised to heaven to you, O God, his almighty Father, giving you thanks, he said the blessing, broke the bread and gave it to his disciples, saying: “Take this, all of you, and eat of it, for this is my Body, which will be given up for you.”

In a similar way, when supper was ended, he took this precious chalice in his holy and venerable hands, and once more giving you thanks, he said the blessing and gave the chalice to his disciples, saying: “Take this, all of you, and drink from it, for this is the chalice of my Blood, the Blood of the new and eternal covenant, which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins. Do this in memory of me.”

The Roman Canon, Eucharistic Prayer I.

On the night in which He was given up—or rather gave Himself up for the life of the world—it’s believed that our Lord took His disciples to the upper room, traditionally located on Mount Zion.5 It was here that the Last Supper was held. The supper at which our Lord took wine and spoke over it the (slightly altered) words of Exodus 24:8, “this is my blood of the covenant” (Matt 26:28), and then gave it as true drink. If there ever was a fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy concerning the Messiah’s sacrificial “feast of well-aged wine” on the Lord’s holy “mountain” (Isa 25:6), this would have to be it.

Indeed, this is the only way Isaiah’s vision could ever be fully realized. Just think, how could there possibly be “priests and Levites” of a new covenant where the sacrificial offering is… a man? Sure, Abraham gets a divine pass on the whole “human sacrifice” thing, but an entire priesthood constituted around human sacrifice? That seems wholly unfitting. And yet, it’s what Isaiah’s prophecy demands. The Servant’s guilt offering is the sacrifice of which all peoples at the great banquet partake; it’s the only cultic sacrifice for which Isaiah 66:21’s “priests and Levites” could even serve a purpose.6 How are they to do this? At the Last Supper, Jesus shows them the way.

“The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise” (Ps 51:17). This psalm is truly speaking about the Sacred Heart of Jesus. The only cultic sacrifice acceptable to God is His own Heart, which was broken for us. In the days of old, the Lord “sought out a man after his own heart” (1 Sam 13:14). Ultimately, that man wasn’t David, it wasn’t Solomon, it was Jesus of Nazareth, the son of David, the Son of God. This is the God-man who did “good to Zion” in His “good pleasure”; this is the God-man who built up “the walls of Jerusalem” (Ps 51:18); this is the God-man who gave us a “right sacrifice” in which the Lord will “delight.” That sacrifice is His own “broken and contrite heart,” which is truly “offered” on the Lord’s “altar” in the Holy Eucharist (Ps 51:19).

Concluding Remarks

I wanted to end this article with my admiration of the fact that, in the Byzantine tradition, Psalm 51 is the only psalm that’s read in its entirety during the Divine Liturgy. Indeed, the particular way in which it’s done is quite profound:

During the Cherubic Hymn, just before the Great Entrance when the gifts of bread and wine are brought to the altar as the Church prepares for the Holy Oblation, the priest censes the altar, the sanctuary and the people, and quietly recites the psalm (and is expected to know it by heart): “Have mercy on me, O God, in accordance with your great mercy…” The priest recites the psalm up until verse 17: “A sacrifice to God is a broken spirit; a broken and a humbled heart God will not despise”, and concludes the psalm after the solemn procession with the holy gifts when he places the bread and wine upon the altar: “Do good to Sion, Lord, in your good pleasure; and let the walls of Jerusalem be rebuilt. Then you will be well pleased with a sacrifice of righteousness, oblation and whole burnt offerings. Then they will offer calves upon your altar”.

Archimandrite Vassilios Papavassiliou, “Psalm 50 Within the Liturgical Context.”

In this truly Catholic liturgical rite, the full meaning of Psalm 51 is properly set forth. What gets offered on Christian altars is nothing other than the broken and contrite heart of David’s son, which comes to us under the appearances of bread and wine.

I also find it quite significant that, shortly after this in the Byzantine Liturgy, when the priest partakes of the Precious Blood of Christ, he quotes Isaiah 6:7, “behold, this has touched my lips and shall take away my iniquity.” If Isaiah’s prophetic call really did foreshadow the sacrificial banquet described later in his book, as I argued above, then this liturgical action is supremely fitting. I’m told that this is also done in the Syriac tradition, and so I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s ubiquitous in eastern liturgies.

Casper Labuschagne’s mind-blowing book Numerical Secrets of the Bible reveals something very interesting about the Genesis patriarchs. First, he points out how the gematria values1 of the patriarchs’ names are all multiples of 26:

• יִצְחָ֔ק | Isaac: 208 (8×26)

• יַעֲקֹ֑ב | Jacob: 182 (7×26)

• יוֹסֵ֔ף | Joseph: 156 (6×26)

This is significant not only because 26 is the gematria value of the tetragrammaton, the divine name (יהוה‎), but also because the multiples are going in descending order, ultimately “culminating” in Joseph. A similar pattern shows up when we look at the ages of the patriarchs at the time of their deaths:

• Abraham: 175 years = 5x5x7 | 5+5+7 = 17

• Isaac: 180 years = 6x6x5 | 6+6+5 = 17

• Jacob: 147 years = 7x7x3 | 7+7+3 = 17

• Joseph: 110 years = 5×5 + 6×6 + 7×7

As Labuschagne documents at length, 17 is plastered all over the Torah due to its being the gematria value for an archaic form of the divine name (אהוה). This tells us that this pattern is intentional. Once again, we not only see the multiples going in descending order, but they also culminate in Joseph in a much more concrete way. The lifespan of Joseph is quite literally the “sum” of the lives of the patriarchs before him. Through numerical symbolism, Scripture is telling us that, somehow, Joseph’s story summarizes all of the patriarchal narratives of Genesis.

The biblical scholar Seraphim Hamilton has discovered an even deeper significance behind Joseph’s 110 years. Using the BibleTools website I created for my software development portfolio, we can calculate the gematria value of the entire Creation Week narrative, Genesis 1:1-2:3. This is the result:

2701, 3546, 813, 1776, 2141, 1660, 4541, 2255, 3068, 2074, 5165, 4335, 1342, 3744, 2224, 5820, 2412, 1659, 984, 3906, 5834, 2889, 1060, 3279, 3864, 4764, 2816, 5457, 6158, 4747, 3065, 958, 4616, 4928. Sum total = 110,601

The total numerical value of the Genesis Creation Week is 110,601. Although the 601 initially appears to throw off the meaning, it only enhances it. 601 is the 110th prime number. This means that the numerical value of the Creation Week = 110,000 + 110th prime. The fact that Genesis ends with Joseph dying at the age of 110 tells us that he is not only the sum of his forefathers, but his lifespan also sums up the whole of creation. The project of creation that began in Genesis 1, and continued through the lives of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, is brought to completion in the story of Joseph.

Thus, the Genesis narrative was intentionally crafted to point us towards the man who was rejected by his brothers, sold into the hands of Gentiles for pieces of silver, thrown into and raised up from a lifeless pit, and exalted to reign over the nations at the age of 30. It comes as no surprise, then, that the messianic seed of Judah, the one who brings creation to its final end, is explicitly tied to the life of Joseph (through the common phrase, “your brothers shall bow before you,” Gen 49:8-12 cf. Gen 37:1-11). Amazingly, there’s only one other man in the Old Testament who shares Joseph’s age of 110: Joshua (יְהוֹשֻׁ֣עַ), a direct descendant of Joseph (1 Chron 7:27-29), whose name becomes “Yeshua” in Aramaic, and “Jesus” in Greek.

I’m happy to hear that the new translation of the Liturgy of the Hours is coming out soon! And I’m even more encouraged by the fact that major Catholic outlets like Bishop Barron’s Word on Fire and Fr. Mike Schmitz’s Ascension Presents are publishing and promoting it.

Since joining the Catholic Church two years ago, I’ve tried to regularly pray the Divine Office in my own daily life, as well as share this prayer with others. This was only possible because, not long after becoming Catholic, I was fortunate enough to meet a friend (named Joseph) who himself prayed the Divine Office everyday, and he taught me most of what I know about it. Together Joseph and I learned to chant the Office with simple tones, and this eventually led to us organizing a chanted Evening Prayer (Vespers) service at our local parish every Sunday. We even had a decent weekly turn out of young Catholics who prayed with us. Sadly, that parish has since decided to shut down our Vespers group (for no good reason). I also introduced my men’s Bible study to the practice of chanting Vespers, which we now do every week after our study. I’ve been told by several of the men who attend that it’s become one of their favorite parts of the week. Thankfully, this has not been shut down.

I make an effort to chant the Divine Office during really any gathering of Catholics I happen to be at. I’ve chanted Vespers with my fellow young adults after Catholic Sports tournaments, after Theology on Tap presentations, at bonfires, birthday parties, and other celebrations and get togethers. One time I was at a Catholic charity fundraiser at which Mass was offered, and afterwards I convinced the priest and his seminarian altar server to chant Vespers with me at a picnic table. Another time I was chaperoning a youth ministry retreat and we all sang Morning Prayer together outside in downtown Naperville; two non-Catholics came up to us afterwards seeking our prayers and or inquiring about the faith. At my own parish in Chicago, my pastor has graciously allowed me to lead our catechumens in chanting Morning Prayer every Sunday. My girlfriend and I also regularly pray and chant Morning and or Evening Prayer together in adoration chapels, parishes, and homes.

Why do I do this? Personally, coming to Catholicism from an Eastern Orthodox background gave me the sense that Catholics profoundly struggle with two things: (1) singing, and (2) doing anything liturgical other than Mass.

The first of these is obvious. Catholics not only can’t sing, not only can’t sing well, but even when they can sing well they still choose to sing poorly! I’ve been at Masses where there’s been perhaps the most beautiful choir I’ve ever heard in my life, and then the Responsory Psalm is sung by some woman whose parents never told her that her voice sucks the beauty out of otherwise beautiful words; or by some man who sings like he’s trying to imitate a tone-deaf woman.

Why does this happen? Thomas Day’s, Why Catholics Can’t Sing: The Culture of Catholicism and the Triumph of Bad Taste provides some interesting theories, but I’m more interested in solutions. Teaching Catholics how to chant the Divine Office with basic tones, as well as slowly introducing Gregorian chant during the opening hymn, the Pater Noster, the In Manus Tuas, and the Salve Regina, has proven to be the most effective way I myself can “be the change I wish to see” in the Church. My own group of men who chant Vespers every week after Bible study has improved quite a bit in the less than one year we’ve been doing it. Given how much good I’ve seen come out of my lowly efforts to promote the Divine Office as a simple layman, I’m genuinely baffled: why aren’t more pastors doing things like this?

Make no mistake, these issues don’t just exist among us “Novus Ordites.” Do you know how many TLMs I’ve been to where the Roman Missal and the hymnal in use was in every single pew, and yet there was not a single person in the congregation chanting or singing along with the Mass? Certainly, there needs to be a balance between interior and exterior participation in worship. I’ve seen the opposite extreme at Eastern Orthodox and Protestant services where there was so much singing that, by the time the service had finished, I realized I didn’t actually stop to pray even once. That’s a problem, but so is a culture of worship where singing is utterly foreign to the average Catholic. Introducing normal Catholics to chanting the Divine Office can be an excellent way to begin remedying this. Pastors, take note.

The second problem I’ve highlighted above is perhaps less obvious. Don’t get me wrong, I love the Holy Mass. It is absolutely the highest form of prayer that the Church has to offer, and I think it’s beautiful and wonderful that so many Catholics have developed a habit of attending Mass regularly on days other than Sunday. However, this seems to have come at a cost. Since Mass is the only regular liturgical celebration most Catholics are familiar with, they don’t even realize that the Church’s liturgy exists outside of the Mass as well. Instead of viewing the Divine Office as an extension of the public liturgy of the Church, many Catholics instead view private devotions like Eucharistic Adoration and the Rosary in this way.

To be frank, the fact that Eucharistic Adoration and Rosary “services” are more common in parishes than Lauds, Vespers, Compline, etc. is deeply problematic. According to Vatican II, pastors have a duty to “see to it that the chief hours, especially Vespers, are celebrated in common in church on Sundays and the more solemn feasts.”1 Notice that no such thing is said about Adoration or the Rosary. And yet, given how most parishes operate today, would you even know that?

Indeed, when Sacrosanctum Concilium does reference “popular devotions” being promoted in the Church, it specifically states that these devotions should “lead the people to [the sacred liturgy], since, in fact, the liturgy by its very nature far surpasses any of them [popular devotions].”2 And yet, at how many parishes does it seem popular devotions have replaced the Liturgy of the Hours (which itself is a true extension of the sacred liturgy, Holy Mass)? Too many. To be clear, I do not at all condemn having Adoration or the Rosary prayed in common, these are absolutely good things. Rather, I’m concerned with these customs replacing the actual public liturgy of the Church, which encompasses the Divine Office.

Consider what the official General Instruction of the Liturgy of the Hours says about the duty of pastors to promote the Divine Office:

21. Where possible, the principal Hours should be celebrated communally in church by other groups of the faithful. The most important of these groups are the local parishes – the cells of the diocese – established under a pastor acting for the bishop. These ‘present in some degree the visible Church established throughout the world.[94]’” […]

23. Those in holy orders or with a special canonical mission[96] have the responsibility of initiating and directing the prayer of the community; ‘they must work hard to ensure that all entrusted to their care may be united in prayer.’[97] They must therefore see to it that the faithful are invited – and prepared by suitable instruction – to celebrate the principal Hours in common, especially on Sundays and feast days.[98] They should teach them how to make the celebration a sincere prayer;[99] they should therefore give them suitable guidance in the Christian understanding of the psalms, so that they may be led by degrees to a greater appreciation and more frequent use of the prayer of the Church.[100]

General Instruction of the Liturgy of the Hours, I-IV.

Notice, the language being used here doesn’t sound very “optional.” It doesn’t sound like, “priests should maybe promote the Divine Office, but if they’re too busy then a monthly Adoration or Rosary event will do.” Nope. It says that because pastors “have the responsibility” to lead community prayer, they “must” see to it that the Divine Office is celebrated in common whenever it’s physically and morally possible. How many pastors even know that they have a responsibility to ensure that their flocks are familiar with and regularly praying the Divine Office? How many pastors actually live up to this responsibility? These are important questions to ask.

Unfortunately, in my personal experience, I’ve encountered too many pastors and parishes that were indifferent or even hostile towards the common recitation of the Divine Office. This isn’t always the case, thankfully my own pastor is very receptive of my desire to make the Divine Office a regular part of parish life, but indifference seems to be the general attitude. As mentioned above, I even had one parish look at my group of young Catholics singing Vespers together on Sunday and declare that we had no business being there! That wasn’t the belief of everyone at that parish, not even all of the clergy, but it was the belief of those who had the power to forbid us from praying there (yes, a Catholic parish forbade us from praying the official prayer of the Church). Given how difficult it’s been to find another parish that’s open to our group singing Vespers in common there, this pastoral neglect seems to be systemic; and something tells me that this isn’t an issue unique to my particular area.

If pastors were living up to their responsibilities, I wouldn’t even have to be trying to start a group that consistently and reverently prays the Divine Office in common! Such groups would already be prevalent. Yet here we are.

Don’t worry, though, I won’t end on a sour note. As stated at the beginning of this article, I’m genuinely hopeful that the new translation of the Breviary, along with ministries such as Word on Fire and Ascension Presents, will be successful in “spark[ing] a renewal of the Church’s daily prayer, [and] restoring the Divine Office to the heart of Catholic life.”3 I will certainly be doing everything I can to ensure the success of this mission, and I pray that my readers will be encouraged to do likewise.

God, + come to my assistance.
— Lord, make haste to help me.

Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit:
— as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be for ever. Amen. Alleluia.

Today, October 1st, the feast of St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus, marks two years since I first received Holy Communion in the Catholic Church. My choice of this day was no accident. I believe the Little Flower has guided my Catholic journey for longer than I’ve even been aware of, and so on this her feast day I wanted to sing her praises.

During my process of discerning whether to remain Eastern Orthodox or enter full communion with the Catholic Church, a book about St. Thérèse’s spirituality entitled, The Way of Trust and Love, was gifted to me by a friend. I initially delayed reading this book for quite some time. Although I was friendly with Catholic theology as an Eastern Orthodox Christian, Catholic spirituality was something I held in great suspicion. The Eastern Orthodox polemics—and, quite frankly, propaganda—against western spirituality were strong. Yet the Little Flower began tugging at my heart.

Eventually, I found myself on a trip to Arizona. In addition to visiting one of the greatest natural wonders of the world, the Grand Canyon, I also stopped by one of the greatest supernatural wonders of the Eastern Orthodox world, St. Anthony’s Monastery in Florence, Arizona. Ironically, I did this just after having returned from the actual city of Florence, Italy, where I attended Mass for the Feast of Pentecost in the Basilica where the reunion Council of Florence was held in the fifteenth century. While I wasn’t seriously thinking about becoming Catholic at this point, my heart was (in hindsight) clearly open to it.

So I went to St. Anthony’s Monastery and… I had a decent experience. It was alright. I could sense that St. Anthony’s was a place of deep prayer and immense reverence for our Lord and our Lady. I was even delighted to pick up a physical copy of The Dialogues of Pope St. Gregory the Great in the giftshop! However, being in the epicenter of rigorous Orthodox monasticism (in the United States) left me with an impression that I’d had for much of my Eastern Orthodox life. Namely, that Eastern Orthodox spirituality isn’t really accessible to non-monastics.

To be sure, I have deep respect for the spiritual and monastic traditions of Eastern Christianity. St. John Cassian’s Conferences is even becoming an important resource in my own spiritual life as of late. But after nearly two thousand years of guidance by the Holy Spirit, I expected a little bit more direct insight into non-monastic forms of spirituality. I didn’t make the connection at the time, but I believe this thought, which my visit to St. Anthony’s certainly roused, is what inspired me to finally sit down and read Fr. Jacques Phillippe’s The Way of Trust and Love in my Arizona hotel room.

Through Fr. Jacques, I was spiritually introduced to my dear St. Thérèse. Quite honestly, I found his book, and indeed Thérèse’s entire spirituality, to be nothing “profound” in the sense of radically new or innovative. Rather, its profundity was precisely in its simplicity. It was just the gospel. The radical call to embrace our own “littleness” before God; our complete dependance on Him. In the words of the Little Flower herself, “remaining little before God” means “to recognize our nothingness, to expect everything from God, as a little child expects everything from his or her father; it is not getting worried or upset about anything.”1 I realized that every setback I’ve had in the spiritual life has, in some way, been a result of not truly living this out.

Soon enough I also found the Novena prayers to St. Thérèse, which describe her as one who embodied “wholehearted abandonment to God.” This line particularly struck me. To be abandoned to the Lord God. To surrender completely to His will. This is hard enough to do in the order of nature—leaving all of my temporal and worldly concerns up to divine providence. Yet the Little Thérèse calls us to something even more radical. We are to surrender everything to God even in the supernatural order. The grace we receive to pray, to stop sinning, to increase in virtue, and yes, even to be saved, is given by Christ unconditionally. It’s not our initiative that “attracts” His grace, rather it’s His grace that begins any of our initiatives towards Him in the first place. It’s not our “cooperation” with the Lord’s grace that entails our salvation, rather it’s His gratuitous gift of salvation that entails our free cooperation with His grace. “We cannot be saved by what we do; we can only be saved by grace, when God’s freely given love comes, takes hold of us, and transforms us.”2

This was the central spiritual lesson I learned from St. Thérèse. I cannot save myself. I can either completely abandon myself to the Lord, placing my interior life solely in His hands, or I can end up abandoned to death and darkness. Only by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ can I have the humility to accept our Father’s gift of salvation as just that—a gift. Not something I can boast about (cf. Eph 2:8). “God chose to save me because He knew that I would cooperate with His grace while others wouldn’t!” No. Even my cooperation is a gift. “All is gift.” For this reason, our spirituality must be one of childlike dependence on our loving Father.

This simple, “little,” spirituality appealed to me in a way that nothing I had read or heard in the Eastern Orthodox tradition up to that point ever did. Though funnily enough, since encountering and trying to live out “the little way” of St. Thérèse, I’ve been able to appreciate Eastern Christianity’s spiritual tradition more than I ever could before. By God’s grace, the Little Flower proved to be the bridge between monastic and non-monastic spirituality that I was lacking.

In a certain sense, Little Thérèse is the one who reintroduced me to the simple gospel of Jesus Christ. It’s for this reason and more that, two years ago, I chose today, the feast of St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus, to be the day on which I received Holy Communion in the Catholic Church for the very first time. A few weeks after making this decision, I would even come to learn something quite providential about my conversion. Long before I decided to become Catholic, the friend who gave me Fr. Jacques’ book had prayerfully consecrated me to St. Thérèse with the intention that I would enter full communion with the Catholic Church. I had no knowledge of this when I chose her feast day to be my “First Catholic Communion.” I also didn’t realize that the day before St. Thérèse’s feast, when I did my general confession and profession of faith, was this friend of mine’s birthday. I suppose the Little Flower didn’t mind sharing the credit for my conversion!

This year I also learned something rather providential about my own birthday. I was born on May 17th, 2001. Not only does this mean that my birthday is the day on which, in 1925, Pope Pius XI canonized Thérèse as a Saint. Not only does this mean that my birthday, May 17th, is the day on which many Byzantine Catholics liturgically celebrate the feast of St. Thérèse. But this also means that this year, May 17th, 2025, the 100th anniversary of St. Thérèse’s canonization, was the same day and year as my 24th birthday—the very age St. Thérèse was when she fell asleep in the Lord.

As someone who firmly believes in divine providence, it’s hard for me to look at all of this and dismiss it as a mere coincidence, or worse, “the trickery of the devil.” No, this is true providence. The teachings of St. Thérèse, and indeed the teachings of the Catholic Church, have done nothing but strengthen and deepen my relationship with our Lord Jesus Christ. Within the Church, I have grown more in my interior life than I ever could have dreamed of while I was outside the Church. And it was all possible because the Little Flower of Jesus decided to send me a rose.

St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus, pray for us!

Preserved from the thorns of vanity, * you blossomed like a lily in Carmel, O venerable Thérèse, * following the God-child in your life, * as a sacrifice of the merciful love of God, * you prayed for the world and revealed the way to what is higher, to be a child in Christ. * Therefore, your spirit rejoices now with the angels.

—Troparion for the Byzantine Feast of St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus.

This is the fourth installment in an article series that revolves around the question, “should we still be Catholic?” Read the first, second, and third articles.

In the previous article, we discussed how the Catholic Church can make sense of papal error in light of her teaching on papal infallibility. I ended that discussion by bringing up the infamous case of Pope Honorius and his condemnation as a heretic in the year 681. As I documented at length, there’s absolutely no denying that Honorius’ condemnation at both the Sixth (Constantinople III) and the Eighth (Constantinople IV) Ecumenical Councils was as a heretic. According to the latter council fathers, as well as Pope St. Leo II and Pope Hadrian II, Honorius had “contaminated” the “immaculate rule of apostolic tradition” in the doctrinal letters he wrote to the patriarch Sergius.1 The former council fathers were equally clear:

And with these we define that there shall be expelled from the holy Church of God and anathematized Honorius who was some time Pope of Old Rome, because of what we found written by him to Sergius, that in all respects he followed his view and confirmed his impious doctrines…

To Theodore of Pharan, the heretic, anathema!

To Sergius, the heretic, anathema!

To Cyrus, the heretic, anathema!

To Honorius, the heretic, anathema!

To Pyrrhus, the heretic, anathema! […]

To all heretics, anathema! To all who side with heretics, anathema! May the faith of the Christians increase, and long years to the orthodox and Ecumenical Council…

Therefore we declare that in him there are two natural wills and two natural operations, proceeding commonly and without division: but we cast out of the Church and rightly subject to anathema all superfluous novelties as well as their inventors: to wit, Theodore of Pharan, Sergius and Paul, Pyrrhus, and Peter (who were archbishops of Constantinople), moreover Cyrus, who bore the priesthood of Alexandria, and with them Honorius, who was the ruler of Rome, as he followed them in these things.

Council of Constantinople 681, Session 13, Session 16, and Prosphoneticus to the Emperor, qtd. in Ybarra, “Pope Honorius the Heretic! – Achilles Heel for Catholicism and the Papacy?.”

It doesn’t get much more explicit than this. According to an Ecumenical Council accepted by the Catholic Church, a pope of Rome had “followed” the heretical “view” of the Monothelite heretic Sergius, “confirmed his impious doctrines” in an official letter “written” to this very Sergius, and thereby lawfully incurred an “anathema” along with the other Monothelite heretics. Certainly, nobody at the Sixth Ecumenical Council, not even the popes who confirmed it, believed that a pope couldn’t teach heresy in his official capacity as the pope. However, before any of my non-Catholic readers start jumping for joy at the defeat of papal infallibility, there’s a wrench I have to throw into this discussion as well.

The very council fathers who initially condemned Pope Honorius as a heretic also affirmed the teaching of Pope St. Agatho that the See of Rome is doctrinally inerrant. For Agatho, when our Lord spoke to St. Peter saying, “Peter, Peter, behold, Satan has desired to have you, that he might sift you as wheat; but I have prayed for you, that your faith fail not” (Lk 22:31-32), what He was doing was ensuring that all “the Apostolic pontiffs, the predecessors of my littleness,” i.e. the popes of Rome, would never fail to teach the true faith. This is why, St. Agatho reasons, “the Apostolic Church of Christ,” which we know is Rome since its “founders” are “the princes of the Apostles of Christ,” Peter and Paul, “remains undefiled unto the end, according to the divine promise of the Lord and Saviour himself.”2

Similar to the fathers of Constantinople IV, Agatho taught that the personal infallibility of St. Peter’s faith is somehow inherited by the popes of Rome, and this is the very means by which the Catholic Church is forever protected from heresy. When the fathers of Constantinople III heard this, their response was, “Peter spoke through Agatho.”3 And yet, these same fathers had no problem condemning Pope Honorius as a heretic.

It must be noted that many interpreters read this move as the fathers of the Sixth Ecumenical Council actually rejecting St. Agatho’s clear and unambiguous belief in papal infallibility, and I can understand why. Agatho says that, by the promise of Christ, “all” of his predecessors “have always confidently” taught the true faith, a fact that would seemingly be contradicted by Pope Honorius having taught heresy. What are we to do with this apparent contradiction? Is it enough to show that the fathers of Constantinople III actually believed the exact opposite of what they claimed to believe by embracing Agatho’s letter, viz. that there is no divine promise that the Apostolic See and her bishop would be protected from heresy?

To begin unraveling this, it must be understood that there’s no serious way to interpret Agatho’s letter as teaching anything other than the literal infallibility of the Roman Church and her bishop. As Erick Ybarra demonstrates at length,4 this is true of both the Latin and Greek translations of the letter. This means that the letter of Agatho, on its own terms, cannot even plausibly be dismissed as so-called “Byzantine flattery.” To see why, let’s consider an oft-cited example of mere Byzantine flattery: “Rejoice, O city of Zion, summit of the world and the empire! Constantine ornamented you with purple and crowned you with faith... and the gates of hell shall not prevail against your orthodox empire.”5 These words were spoken by pre-schism eastern fathers about the Byzantine Empire. The Sixth Ecumenical Council itself even declared that the emperor was “appointed by God” to rule over the empire.6 Scholars like Fr. Klaus Schatz cite these kinds of texts in an attempt to prove that the Byzantines were no strangers to saying things they didn’t really mean for the sake of flattery. But is that really the only conclusion one could draw from these texts? I’m not so sure.

The former text appropriates language from Matthew 16:18 and says that “the gates of hell” won’t prevail against the “orthodox empire.” Why wouldn’t the Byzantines literally believe this? For as long as Byzantium remained an “orthodox empire,” I see no reason why the empire’s subjects couldn’t have believed that God would protect them from being overtaken by their enemies. We actually see this belief on full display in the 15th century when, on the verge of the fall of Constantinople, both unionists like Bessarion of Nicaea and anti-unionists like Gennadios Scholarios believed that the reason why Byzantium was collapsing, i.e. why the “gates of hell” were prevailing, was because they were no longer an “orthodox empire.”7 This isn’t an implausible interpretation of the 7th century Byzantines telling their emperor that “the gates of hell shall not prevail against your orthodox empire.” However, what is an implausible interpretation is that the Byzantines actually believed the complete opposite of what they were saying, and they didn’t think that their empire was divinely protected in anyway whatsoever. That’s just silly.

Much the same could be said about the Byzantines believing their emperor to have been “appointed by God.” Was the Apostle Paul engaged in mere flattery when he told the Romans that “there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists the authorities resists what God has appointed” (Rom 13:1-2)? No serious scholar would make such a claim. And yet, serious scholars do claim that the Byzantines were just flattering their emperor by telling him that he was appointed by God to rule. Do we have any actual reasons to believe this other than imposing modern political views on ancient sources? Nope.

The papal critic therefore has to be very careful when appealing to this vague category of “Byzantine flattery” to dismiss the force of certain texts that challenge his worldview. Even if flowery language is being used, something believed to be true is actually being communicated. The question then remains, what truth is being communicated? Let’s think about this with respect to the above cited examples of Byzantine flattery. When the Byzantines describe their city of Constantinople as the “city of Zion” (cf. Isa 12:6; Zeph 3:14; Zech 2:10), are they even claiming that Constantinople is the holy city that the Old Testament prophets foretold? No, they’re not. Does saying, “the gates of hell shall not prevail against your orthodox empire,” even constitute an exegesis of Matthew 16:18 as a prophecy of the Byzantine Empire? No, it doesn’t. Simply using language from the Bible to describe something isn’t the same as actually exegeting a biblical text in a particular way.

For example, if I praise a certain martyr by saying that he had the unfailing faith of Peter, am I therefore exegeting Luke 22:31-32 as a prophecy of this martyr? No, I’m not. However, if I instead claim that because of the promise that Jesus made to Peter in Luke 22:31-32, this explains why a certain martyr had unfailing faith, now I actually am offering an exegesis of the text itself. Indeed, if I then go on to explicitly say that the “divine promise of our Lord and Savior, as recorded in the Gospels,” is that this martyr’s faith wouldn’t fail, then it would be unreasonable to think that I’m doing anything other than exegeting the New Testament. This is something we just don’t see in our examples of Byzantine flattery. Rather, from those texts themselves, it’s clear that the Byzantines are doing nothing more than using literary images from Scripture to convey their beliefs about the holiness of the orthodox city of Constantinople, and God’s special protection over nations that remain faithful to Him. It’s not even reasonable to suppose that they thought the primary meaning of texts like Isaiah 12:16 and Matthew 16:18 concerned the Byzantine Empire rather than the Church.

However, this stands in direct contrast to the letter of Pope St. Agatho. Unlike our examples of Byzantine flattery, Agatho’s letter actually is providing an exegesis of the New Testament, and it’s not at all ambiguous. Agatho says quite plainly that “the divine promise of the Lord and Saviour himself, which he uttered in the holy Gospels to the prince of his disciples,” i.e. Luke 22:31-32, is what explains why the Church of Rome, the Church founded by “the princes of the Apostles of Christ,” Peter and Paul, “remains undefiled unto the end.” He then goes on:

Let your tranquil Clemency therefore consider, since it is the Lord and Saviour of all, whose faith it is, that promised that Peter’s faith should not fail and exhorted him to strengthen his brethren, how it is known to all that the Apostolic pontiffs, the predecessors of my littleness, have always confidently done this very thing.

Pope St. Agatho, Third Council of Constantinople (A.D. 680-681), “The Letter of Pope Agatho,” in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, second series, vol. 14, eds. Phillip Shaff and Henry Wace trans. Henry Percival, for New Advent by Kevin Knight. https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3813.htm.

It’s not reasonable, nor is it even possible, to read this text as anything other than a literal interpretation of the New Testament. If what Agatho writes here doesn’t convey his belief that the primary and literal meaning of Luke 22:31-32 is that the Church of Rome will forever remain undefiled from heresy, and that the popes of Rome will always be empowered by God to teach the true faith, then is there anything Agatho could have ever written that would convey such a meaning? No, there’s not. If directly saying that Jesus Christ promised to protect the Church of Rome and her bishop from heresy doesn’t mean that Jesus Christ promised to protect the Church of Rome and her bishop from heresy, then up is down, left is right, and blue is red. This cannot plausibly be read as mere flattery.

Now bear with me here. If it’s truly unreasonable to interpret Agatho’s letter as anything other than a literal claim to papal infallibility, then what should we make of men who said the following things about this letter?

But the highest prince of the Apostles fought with us: for we had on our side his imitator and the successor in his see, who also had set forth in his letter the mystery of the divine word. For the ancient city of Rome handed thee a confession of divine character, and a chart from the sunsetting raised up the day of dogmas, and made the darkness manifest, and Peter spoke through Agatho, and thou, O autocratic King, according to the divine decree, with the Omnipotent Sharer of thy throne, didst judge.

Philip Schaff and Henry Wace, The Third Council of Constantinople: The Prosphoneticus to the Emperor, 500, qtd. in Ybarra, p. 523.

According to the fathers of Constantinople III, Agatho’s letter did nothing more than “set forth” the correct interpretation “of the divine word,” i.e. Scripture and Tradition. The fact that these same fathers even appropriated Petrine language to affirm the “divine character” of Agatho’s letter, “Peter spoke through Agatho,” demands that we take their words seriously: they did not disagree with Agatho’s interpretation of Luke 22:31-32. The Sixth Ecumenical Council affirms, with Agatho, that when our Lord promised never failing faith to St. Peter, He was really promising never failing faith to the Apostolic See of Rome. Even if flowery language was involved, what did we learn about Byzantine flattery above? It cannot be used to conclude that the Byzantines actually believed the complete opposite of what they were claiming to believe. Thus, if the Sixth Ecumenical Council states that St. Agatho’s papal reading of Luke 22:31-32 is the correct interpretation of that text, then we should take them at their word.

Significantly, consider what the Byzantine Emperor himself said about Agatho’s papal teachings. In a letter to Pope St. Agatho’s successor, Pope St. Leo II, Emperor Constantine IV wrote the following about Leo’s predecessor:

The letter of Pope Agatho, who is with the saints ... we ordered it to be read in the hearing of all, and we beheld in it as in a mirror the image of sound and unsullied faith. We compared it with the voices of the Gospels and of the Apostles, and set beside it the decisions and definitions of the holy ecumenical Synods, and compared the quotations it contained with the precepts of the Fathers, and finding nothing out of harmony, we perceived in it the word of the true confession [i.e., of Peter] unaltered. And with the eyes of our understanding we saw it as it were the very ruler of the Apostolic choir, Peter himself, declaring the mystery of the whole dispensation... Glory be to God, who does wondrous things, who has kept safe the faith among you unharmed... For how should He not do so in that rock on which He founded His Church, and prophesied that the gates of hell, all the ambushes of heretics, should not prevail against it? From it, as from the vault of heaven, the word of the true confession flashed forth, and enlightened the souls of the lovers of Christ.

Mansi 11.713-18. Letter to Leo II, in Dom John Chapman, The Condemnation of Pope Honorius, 105-07, qtd. in Ybarra, p. 525.

Not only does Constantine IV affirm, with the Sixth Council, that Agatho’s letter was wholly orthodox, but he even affirms that it couldn’t not have been orthodox because of the promise that Jesus made to Peter in Matthew 16:18-19. The emperor literally says that this biblical text “prophesied that the gates of hell, all the ambushes of heretics, should not prevail against” the Apostolic See of Rome, which is the “rock on which [Christ] founded His Church.” Once again, recall our discussion of Byzantine flattery above. The distinction between using biblical language to describe something, versus actually interpreting a biblical text in a particular way becomes important here. Is Constantine IV merely using imagery from Matthew 16:18-19 to describe his belief in Rome’s orthodoxy, or is he actually interpreting this text as a prophecy of Rome’s doctrinal inerrancy? We don’t have to guess, he directly tells us. In Matthew 16:18-19, Jesus “prophesied that the gates of hell, all the ambushes of heretics, should not prevail against” Rome, “the rock on which He founded His Church.”

There are some people who would have you believe that what the emperor really meant by this is that Jesus didn’t prophesy Rome’s doctrinal inerrancy in Matthew 16:18-19, He didn’t establish Rome as the rock of His Church, and that Rome is just like any other See that professes the orthodox faith. I’m sorry, but I just can’t take that seriously. If someone reads a text that clearly interprets Luke 22:31-32 as a prophecy of Rome’s doctrinal inerrancy, declares that text to be the voice of St. Peter himself, and then provides his own interpretation of Matthew 16:18-19 that ends with the same conclusion that Jesus prophesied Rome’s doctrinal inerrancy, then what am I supposed to think? That this man didn’t believe that Jesus promised doctrinal inerrancy to the Apostolic See of Rome? Give me a break.

One also has to consider the man whom Constantine IV was writing to, the very successor of St. Agatho. Do you really think Pope St. Leo II would have understood the emperor’s words as meaningless flattery? Is it plausible that a 7th century Roman pontiff would hear something like, “your See has inherited Jesus’ promise to St. Peter that the gates of hell shall not prevail against it,” and not interpret this literally? Obviously not. The popes of Rome have, since at least the 4th century, clearly and unambiguously articulated their understanding of the Petrine texts of the New Testament as applying uniquely to their See.8 For example, Pope St. Damasus (reigned A.D. 366-384) interpreted Matthew 16:18-19 to mean that “the holy Roman Church has been set before the other churches not by any synodical decrees but by the evangelical voice of our Lord and Savior.”9 Pope St. Celestine (A.D. 422-432), through his legate Philip the presbyter, informed the Third Ecumenical Council that, in Matthew 16:18-19, “blessed Peter” was made the “prince and head of the Apostles, pillar of the faith, and foundation of the Catholic Church,” and that the pope of Rome not only “holds his place,” but will continue to do so “down even to today and forever.”10

Need I even mention Pope St. Innocent I (A.D. 401-417),11 or Pope St. Zosimas (A.D. 417-418),12 who cited the Petrine texts as the reason why they could definitively settle doctrinal matters?13 Shall we even discuss Pope St. Leo the Great (A.D. 440-461), who clearly believed that all of the Petrine promises in the New Testament applied uniquely to his own See?14 Or Pope St. Simplicius (A.D. 468-483), who unambiguously believed the same?15 The list goes on and on.

Given St. Agatho was clearly in line with his predecessors on this matter, what are the odds that St. Leo II was the first Roman pontiff to ever deviate from the traditional Roman understanding of the Petrine texts? How likely is it that, while popes from (at least) St. Damasus to St. Agatho believed that the Petrine texts were literally about their own See, St. Leo II dismissed this language as mere flattery? Not great. As such, when he saw Emperor Constantine IV interpret Matthew 16:18-19 in the exact same way that virtually all of his predecessors did, St. Leo would have had no reason not to take him at his word. I therefore believe that it’s more than fair to say that both the pope and the emperor who confirmed the Sixth Ecumenical Council, including the condemnation of Pope Honorius, genuinely believed in the doctrinal infallibility of the Roman See on account of the promises that our Lord made to St. Peter.

Is it then impossible to believe that the same might be true of the fathers of the Sixth Ecumenical Council themselves? While yes, we cannot hold that they literally agreed with St. Agatho’s historical claim that “all” of his predecessors had unfailingly taught the orthodox faith, there’s no reason to think that they rejected his (as well as the emperor’s) exegesis of the Petrine texts. As I just demonstrated, St. Leo II and Constantine IV also disagreed with the literal sense of Agatho’s historical claim, since the condemnation of Honorius couldn’t have been confirmed without them. And yet, these authorities did so without rejecting Agatho’s theological claim that, by “the divine promise of the Lord and Saviour himself,” Rome “remains undefiled” by heresy “unto the end” of time.

At this point, I must bring to light something of which many people aren’t aware. Even Pope St. Agatho himself didn’t believe in the absolute impossibility of a papal heretic! In his letter to Constantinople III, immediately after affirming that all of his predecessors had been orthodox by the promise of Christ, the pontiff says something that’s worth quoting at length:

Let your tranquil Clemency therefore consider, since it is the Lord and Saviour of all, whose faith it is, that promised that Peter's faith should not fail and exhorted him to strengthen his brethren, how it is known to all that the Apostolic pontiffs, the predecessors of my littleness, have always confidently done this very thing: of whom also our littleness, since I have received this ministry by divine designation, wishes to be the follower, although unequal to them and the least of all.

For woe is me, if I neglect to preach the truth of my Lord, which they have sincerely preached. Woe is me, if I cover over with silence the truth which I am bidden to give to the exchangers, i.e., to teach to the Christian people and imbue it therewith. What shall I say in the future examination by Christ himself, if I blush (which God forbid!) to preach here the truth of his words? What satisfaction shall I be able to give for myself, what for the souls committed to me, when he demands a strict account of the office I have received?

Who, then, my most clement and most pious lords and sons, (I speak trembling and prostrate in spirit) would not be stirred by that admirable promise, which is made to the faithful: Whoever shall confess me before men, him also will I confess before my Father, who is in heaven? And which one even of the infidels shall not be terrified by that most severe threat, in which he protests that he will be full of wrath, and declares that Whoever shall deny me before men, him also will I deny before my Father, who is in heaven? Whence also blessed Paul, the apostle of the Gentiles, gives warning and says: But though we, or an angel from the heaven should preach to you any other Gospel from what we have evangelized to you, let him be anathema.

Since, therefore, such an extremity of punishment overhangs the corruptors, or suppressors of truth by silence, would not any one flee from an attempt at curtailing the truth of the Lord's faith? Wherefore the predecessors of Apostolic memory of my littleness, learned in the doctrine of the Lord, ever since the prelates of the Church of Constantinople have been trying to introduce into the immaculate Church of Christ an heretical innovation, have never ceased to exhort and warn them with many prayers, that they should, at least by silence, desist from the heretical error of the depraved dogma, lest from this they make the beginning of a split in the unity of the Church, by asserting one will, and one operation of the two natures in the one Jesus Christ our Lord.

Pope St. Agatho, Third Council of Constantinople (A.D. 680-681), “The Letter of Pope Agatho,” in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, second series, vol. 14, eds. Phillip Shaff and Henry Wace trans. Henry Percival, for New Advent by Kevin Knight. https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3813.htm.

The first thing you might notice is that, for St. Agatho, it’s not simply those who teach heresy who wouldn’t fulfill the command that our Lord gave to Peter, “strengthen [your] brethren,” but it’s even those who “neglect to preach the truth.” The apostolic anathema hangs over not just “the corruptors” of the faith, i.e. heretics, but even over those “suppressors of truth by silence.” You might expect, then, that since Agatho believed the popes of Rome were empowered by “the divine promise” of Christ to neither corrupt nor neglect the true faith, he would think it impossible for himself to fall into one of these traps. And yet, that’s not true.

Agatho himself writes, “woe is me, if I neglect to preach the truth of my Lord. Woe is me, if I cover over with silence the truth which I am bidden to give to the exchangers.” While Agatho may have believed that all of his predecessors had literally fulfilled the Lord’s command to strengthen their brethren in the faith, he nonetheless believed in the real possibility that he, the reigning pope, might fail to do just this. Agatho even believed that he could potentially fall under St. Paul’s anathema against those who preach another gospel (Gal 1:8), i.e. those who actually teach heresy! Indeed, the very reason why Agatho drones on about the promises that Christ made to Peter and his Roman successors in the first place isn’t to flatter himself, but rather to warn himself. Pope St. Agatho reminded himself of the dignity of his See, of the divine promises that Jesus Christ Himself made to the holders of that See, so that he wouldn’t fail to live up to his calling—a dreadful but nonetheless real possibility in Agatho’s mind.

So what are to do with this? Do we now add Pope St. Agatho himself to the list of men who viewed the papal claims as nothing more than Byzantine flattery? That would be absurd. I don’t know of a single scholar, even a hostile one, who believes that Agatho rejected the theology underlying papal infallibility. For example, Fr. Laurent Cleenewerck, an Eastern Orthodox theologian who wrote an entire book against the Catholic understanding of the papacy, admits that “Pope Agatho had reaffirmed Rome’s traditional claim to Petrine infallibility in his letter to the Council.”16 Even a polemicist as hostile to Catholicism as Craig Truglia can admit that, “it seems to me pretty obvious that Pope Agatho is saying that ‘this Apostolic Church’ (i.e. Rome) is infallible.”17 However, despite this, we’re still left to deal with the fact that Agatho is among those who acknowledged the real possibility of papal heresy.

What can be concluded from our study is that, in the wake of Constantinople III, there were at least three men who both literally affirmed Roman infallibility, while also admitting the real possibility of papal heresy: Emperor Constantine IV, Pope St. Leo II, and Pope St. Agatho. What else do all three of these men have in common? Without their support, the Sixth Ecumenical Council wouldn’t have been authoritative in the first place. Given all of this, I believe I have successfully removed any justification for reading the condemnation of Pope Honorius as an automatic repudiation of the Apostolic See’s doctrinal infallibility. This isn’t how Constantine nor Leo understood Honorius’ condemnation, nor is this how it was received by the Eighth Ecumenical Council, nor is this how Agatho himself would have taken it. In fact, as far as I’m aware, there isn’t a single author in the pre-schism Church who explicitly stated that the Sixth Council condemned Honorius to demonstrate their disagreement with papal infallibility. Such an idea is a complete and utter post-schism novelty.

In the end, what we’re left with is a theological tension. The authoritative inheritance of the first millennium gives us both an affirmation of some kind of papal infallibility, and an affirmation of some kind of papal fallibility. Unfortunately, this tension wasn’t even addressed, much less resolved, by those who created it. That task would be left to future generations who would indeed rise to the challenge. Throughout the Middle Ages, two opposed camps would often emerge in this discussion, broadly represented by the Conciliarists and the Ultramontanists. Each of these camps would choose one side of the tension to the detriment of the other. Conciliarists looked at papal errors like Honorius’ and declared that papal infallibility was nothing but a myth that must be utterly erased from the Tradition. Ultramontanists, on the other hand, looked at the teaching of popes like St. Hormisdas and St. Agatho and believed that any kind of papal error whatsoever was impossible. They then took their respective positions and ran with them in opposite (but equally erroneous) directions.

In our modern era, we often see those following the Conciliarist tradition either end up as Old Catholics, Anglo Catholics, or Eastern Orthodox, and those following the Ultramontanists either become Sedevacantists or popesplaining magisterial positivists. However, as usual, the true Catholic faith is the via media between these extremes. The Ultramontanists are incorrect in thinking that the Apostolic See’s doctrinal inerrancy depends on the pope never ever deviating from the faith, but the Conciliarists are equally incorrect to think that there’s no such thing as papal infallibility. As described before, the First Vatican Council carefully weaved its way through this historical-theological tension by affirming that our Lord did grant St. Peter and his Roman successors the gift of teaching infallibly, but that this gift is limited only to those teachings that intend to definitively define the Catholic faith.

What I hope to have demonstrated in this article is that, for those who wish to remain faithful to the ecumenical councils of the first millennium, the tension between papal heresy and papal infallibility is one we all have to deal with. While the dogma of Vatican I may appear suspect at first glance, it’s at least more serious than the views of the Eastern Orthodox, Old Catholics, or Anglo Catholics. These latter ecclesial bodies must pretend that the infallibility of the Apostolic See wasn’t accepted at all by the Church of the first millennium—a complete historical fiction. It’s only the Catholic Church that has even the potential to resolve this tension with which the first millennium has left us. Indeed, if your ecclesial body was founded on the very premise that the Church of Rome has fallen into heresy (whether that was in 1054, 1563, 1870, or even 1965), then you’re not even in the running for sharing the ecclesiological beliefs of the first millennium Church. For this reason, among the others discussed in the previous articles in this series, I believe we should still be Catholic.

This is the third installment in an article series that revolves around the question, “should we still be Catholic?” Read the first and second articles.

Now that we’ve gone over some initial reasons to remain invested in the Catholic Church even in the midst of horrific scandals, I want to address an issue that gets raised not only by inquirers into Catholicism, but even by many seasoned Catholics who are confused about the current crisis. Can the traditional Catholic faith, with its seemingly exalted and lofty teachings about the Roman papacy, even co-exist with the reality of papal error in the first place? Here’s why I believe that it can.

As Dr. John Joy has persuasively shown in his book, Disputed Questions on Papal Infallibility, the extent to which Catholics are bound to believe in the pope’s infallibility is quite limited. Although it’s true that we’re supposed to give the “religious submission of intellect and will” to the Holy Father “even when he is not speaking ex cathedra,”1 such submission is not unconditional. That is, it’s sometimes acceptable to withhold our assent from these non-definitive papal teachings. We know this because, as the official notes on this text provided by the Theological Commission at Vatican II affirm, the religious submission in question concerns “what assent ought to be given to the teaching of the authentic magisterium below the grade of infallibility.”2 Pope St. John Paul II likewise explicitly taught that the Roman pontiff “does not possess [infallibility] as if he could dispose of it or count on it in every circumstance, but only when he speaks from the chair [ex cathedra].”3 This is relevant because, unless a doctrine is taught infallibly, it’s possibly erroneous and therefore one cannot be unconditionally bound to assent to that doctrine.

This is best illustrated with an example. For the sake of argument, let’s say that in Dignitas Infinita, Cardinal Fernández and Pope Francis taught that the death penalty is an intrinsic evil, comparable to both abortion and transgender surgeries (note: whether or not this is actually the case is completely irrelevant to the point I’m making here). Now, pretty much everyone agrees that this is a “non-infallible” teaching, however, there are some who hold that all Catholics are nonetheless unconditionally bound to accept it (i.e. submit their intellects and wills to it). The problem with this position is that, as Edward Feser and Joseph Bessette have demonstrated in their book, By Man Shall His Blood Be Shed: A Catholic Defense of Capital Punishment, the moral liceity of the death penalty has been infallibly taught by divine revelation. Genesis 9:6 and Romans 13:4 alone reveal that, according to God’s Word, it is lawful for civil rulers to execute evildoers. Not to mention the fact that God commands His people to carry out the death penalty throughout the Torah, and God cannot command moral evil.

Thus, for those who believe that Pope Francis’ teaching on the death penalty is “infallibly safe,” they’re in quite a pickle. How could it ever be “safe” for me to reject the teachings of Scripture? At most, one could have a reduced culpability for the sin of rejecting God’s Word if he truly didn’t know any better, but for people like myself who do know what Scripture teaches about the death penalty, what are we to do? If we’re absolutely bound by divine law to accept even non-infallible teachings of the pope, then we have to pick our poison: disobey God by rejecting His Word, or disobey God by rejecting His vicar. However, this is the very scenario that the Catholic Church teaches is impossible. This is the scenario that inspired Vatican I to develop its teaching on the infallibility of ex cathedra papal decrees in the first place!

If we are, by divine law, unconditionally bound to accept a teaching, then God cannot possibly allow that teaching to contradict His Word. That is, such a teaching must be infallible. It is logically incoherent to speak of Almighty God requiring you to believe X, even though X is not true. That would be tantamount to God lying, yet Scripture is clear that God cannot lie (Num 23:19; Titus 1:2; Heb 6:18). Therefore, either a doctrine is infallibly taught and requires our unconditional assent, or a doctrine is non-infallibly taught and only requires our conditional assent. Since the Church has explicitly told us that any individual papal teaching below the grade of ex cathedra is non-infallible, it follows that these teachings only require conditional assent.

Now, what am I not saying? I’m not saying that Catholics can freely dissent from the pope whenever he teaches anything non-infallibly. I’m not even saying that the ex cathedra modality is the only way in which the pope participates in the Church’s charism of infallibility (more will be said on this below). Rather, I’m simply pointing out the logical consequence of affirming, as the Church does, that the pope doesn’t always teach infallibly: insofar as a particular teaching is not infallible, that teaching cannot automatically demand our unconditional assent. This is not my pet theological opinion, this is just reason. Don’t shoot the messenger!

From here, one can see how the reality of papal error is recognized in Catholicism: “if there are non-infallible expressions of the authentic magisterium, then it is possible for the authentic magisterium to teach error. For what is not infallible is fallible; and what is fallible is able to fail.”4 This obviously explains how it’s possible for a pontiff like Francis to have taught theological errors even in his official capacity as pope: he taught non-definitively and thus non-infallibly. If teaching infallibly means that the doctrine being taught must be believed by Catholics lest they forfeit their membership in the Church (i.e. unconditional assent), then teaching non-infallibly means that the doctrine being taught can be dissented from by Catholics without risking their ecclesial standing (provided they have extremely good theological and or dogmatic reasons for their dissent). Joe Heschmeyer summarized this logic underlying papal infallibility well: “believers will never have to choose between membership in the visible Catholic Church and fidelity to the gospel. We’ll never have to choose schism or heresy.”5 Running with this same idea, Dr. Joy brings it all together:

The charism of infallibility is bestowed on the Church by God in order to protect the faithful from being forced by holy obedience into error in matters of faith or morals. Since the solemn judgments or definitions of the pope are strictly binding in conscience, if the pope were able to err in such judgments, then all Christ’s faithful could be obliged to believe something against the Faith, which would be contrary to the indefectibility of the Church, according to the words of Christ, “The gates of hell shall not prevail against it” (Matt 16:18). But when the pope teaches a matter of faith or morals in his authentic magisterium without speaking ex cathedra, then he does not require a “definitive assent from the faithful.” Hence, if he should err in such teaching, the whole Church would not necessarily be led astray by the error. Therefore, it is not necessary that this kind of teaching should be absolutely protected from all error.

Joy, pp. 17-18 [E-pub].

This being the case, the fact that Pope Francis never excommunicated or anathematized anyone for merely disagreeing with his theological views on topics such as the death penalty, communion for adulterers, or gay blessings, makes it clear that these teachings were non-definitive and therefore non-infallible. Even when over 1,500 Catholics, including 19 scholars, explicitly accused Francis of “the canonical delict of heresy,”6 not a single one of them was excommunicated or anathemized for this (much to the dismay of popesplainers). This wouldn’t be the reality if definitive and therefore infallible teachings were at play. As such, it’s clear that all of Pope Francis’ novel and controversial teachings were not infallible, and so it’s perfectly acceptable for a faithful Catholic to dismiss them as erroneous if he has unshakably solid theological and or dogmatic reasons to do so.

Unfortunately, one of the effects the so-called “spirit of Vatican I” (not Vatican II) has had on Catholics is that it’s made us forget how theology is actually done. We’ve forgotten that, when posed with a theological claim, our first questions should not be: does the Church teach this? Has the pope confirmed this? When was the last time the pope said this? This just isn’t the right mindset with which to approach matters of the faith. Instead, we should begin our theological inquiry with questions such as: is this true? What reasons do I have to believe this is true? Maybe my reason for believing that something is true is that the Church has infallibly taught it to be true, and that’s a good reason. However, not every theological question is like this, nor should it be.

Let’s say I’m presented with the following theological claim: “you must love your neighbor as yourself.” Do I need the pope or the college of bishops to tell me whether or not I ought to assent to this teaching? Surely not. What if an episcopal conference or even the pope himself said or implied that this teaching was false, would that put me in an epistemically impossible situation where I’m now incapable of knowing whether or not I ought to love my neighbor as myself? Ridiculous. Just as I’m perfectly capable of hearing teachings from the pope and understanding what those mean, so too am I perfectly capable of hearing the Word of God, manifest in both Scripture and Tradition, and understanding what it means. If God’s Word clearly teaches X and a pope clearly teaches not X (non-definitively), my intellect is capable of recognizing this and my will is therefore required to obey God rather than men.

Now, if a popesplainer comes along and says that it’s “impossible” for God’s Word to teach X and the pope to non-definitively teach not X, then they’ve just asserted that the pope teaches infallibly even when he teaches non-definitively. However, this contradicts the teaching of Pope St. John Paul II that the Roman pontiff teaches infallibly “only” in definitive ex cathedra decrees. And since, on their view, JPII’s teaching here must be infallible, it’s infallibly certain that their view is false.

“Ah but Benjamin, did you keep reading what JPII said in his teachings on this subject?” Yes, I did. After stating that the pope is capable of teaching error when not speaking ex cathedra (for those who need a lesson in logic: non-infallible = fallible = capable of error), JPII goes on to declare that,

Alongside this infallibility of ex cathedra definitions, there exists the charism of assistance of the Holy Spirit, granted to Peter and his successors so that they may not err in matters of faith and morals and instead provide good enlightenment to the Christian people. This charism is not limited to exceptional cases, but embraces, in varying degrees, the entire exercise of the magisterium.

Pope St. John Paul II, General Audience, March 24, 1993.

There’s a few things to note about this teaching. First, JPII makes a clear distinction between the pope’s gift of “infallibility,” which applies “only” to ex cathedra teachings, and the “charism of assistance” that applies “in varying degrees” to all of the pope’s teachings. Although this “charism of assistance” is intended to protect the pope from “err[ing] in matters of faith and morals” whenever he teaches, it cannot possibly be the case that this charism always achieves such an end. If it did, then this would require the pope to always teach infallibly no matter what. Indeed, if the Holy Spirit always protected the pope from erring in matters of faith and morals even when he wasn’t speaking ex cathedra, what would this mean other than that every teaching of every pope ever is infallible? Ironically, that would entail the exact opposite of what JPII claims about the pope’s infallibility, viz. that it applies “only” when he’s speaking ex cathedra and that he cannot “count on it in every circumstance.” If the Holy Spirit always protected the pope from error, then he would be able to count on the gift of infallibility in every circumstance! He would be infallible outside of ex cathedra decrees!

And yet, JPII explicitly rejected these conclusions, meaning that he must have rejected the premises that lead there. This fact is made even more clear by the pontiff saying that, unlike the gift of papal infallibility, the charism of papal assistance applies “in varying degrees.” There’s no such thing as “degrees” of not erring on faith and morals. Either something is, by the guidance of the Holy Spirit, free from theological error, i.e. infallible, or it’s not. To affirm something like, “this teaching is 50% infallibly protected by the Holy Spirit,” is just laughable nonsense.

So what is JPII getting at by saying that, alongside the gift of papal infallibility, there’s this “charism of assistance” that the Holy Spirit grants to the pope’s entire magisterium? I believe Dr. Joy is correct to draw an analogy between this grace and the graces provided to every baptized Catholic. According to biblical texts such as 1 John 3:6-9, the grace of God is given so that Christians would not sin. However, this doesn’t necessarily mean that Christians could not sin. Likewise, the pope is given special graces in every exercise of his magisterium so that he would not err in matters of faith and morals, but not necessarily so that he could not err.

And we can go even further than this. Given the great love with which Christ loves His Church, it would be most fitting to interpret JPII’s teaching “as referring to a general protection [of all papal teachings] from habitual error rather than an infallible protection from all error.”7 That is, we would expect the Holy Spirit to ensure that these graces given to the popes are, as a general rule, actually efficacious. Certainly, it would be supremely unfitting for even the non-definitive papal magisterium to be habitually mistaken for a lengthy period of time. Just imagine a pope teaching that Jesus is God ex cathedra, but then every single pope after him until the end of time denies the divinity of Christ. Would this state of affairs be acceptable to Catholicism just because these hypothetical popes taught non-definitively? I must agree that that would be absurd. But this doesn’t rule out individual papal teachings, or perhaps even a handful, from being out of harmony with the apostolic choir.

Now the big question, are we Catholics just making things up? Is there anything in Scripture or Tradition that would actually lead us to believe in this vision of papal authority, or is this just a case of us shooting an arrow, painting a target around it, and then celebrating our bullseye? Unsurprisingly, I believe we have incredibly good reasons to accept these finer points of Catholic ecclesiology.

Starting with Sacred Scripture, I would first defer to everything I wrote in the first article of this series. If my arguments there are successful, which I believe they are, then they establish that the bishop of Rome will be the successor of Peter until the end of time. Specifically, he will be the successor of Peter who prevents the gates of hell from prevailing over the Church (whatever that means), and bears the keys upon which all legitimate exercises of ecclesiastical power depend. Right off the bat, an institution like this simply cries out for some kind of promised indefectibility and or infallibility. Because if the Roman bishopric, the papacy, will head the Church until the end of time by the promise of Jesus Christ, then at the very least it must be guaranteed by Christ that it will never be wrong or sinful to embrace communion with the papacy. After all, how could it be morally wrong to share communion with an institution that the Lord Himself embedded into the fabric of His Church?

From here just have to ask, what would make it sinful to be in communion with Rome? This isn’t difficult to figure out. Consider the reason most non-Catholic Christians give for their rejection of Roman communion. It’s because they believe that by entering communion with the Church of Rome, they would be forced to embrace heretical doctrines. Certainly, upon entering the Catholic Church one must agree to “accept and hold each and everything definitively proposed by the Church regarding teaching on faith and morals.”8 Among such definitive teachings are dogmas like the Immaculate Conception and Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. If these teachings truly were heretical, then no one could safely enter communion with the papacy, and thus the papacy wouldn’t be essential to the Church at all. However, if the papacy is an institution built into the fabric of the Church by our Lord Himself, then the scenario just described cannot be possible. That is, it cannot be possible for one to have to choose between communion with Rome and the truth. It therefore follows that if the pope of Rome requires a doctrine to be believed in order to share his communion, then God cannot allow that doctrine to be heretical. This explains the infallibility of definitive, ex cathedra, papal teachings.

However, just as this line of thinking reveals why the pope must teach infallibly under some conditions, it also helps us understand why the pope doesn’t always teach infallibly. We must remember that infallibility is a negative gift, a necessary consequence of the pope of Rome being divinely constituted as the visible head of the Church until the close of the age. Papal infallibility is required for those moments when, if the pope wasn’t infallible, he would forfeit the papacy’s place at the head of the Church. But consider the flip side. Following this same logic, if the pope could do something that’s still really bad, but that doesn’t sever the office of the papacy from the Church, then this reality is indeed possible.

And as I explained in the second article in this series, Sacred Scripture has many examples of things like this actually happening. Whether it’s the scribes and the Pharisees’ hypocrisy and even false doctrines, or the blatant idolatry of many of Israel’s kings, we know from God’s Word that it’s very possible for legitimate rulers to do evil things without losing their legitimacy. While such wickedness certainly condemns these rulers personally, it doesn’t impact the standing of their office. I see no reason why the same cannot be true of the papacy. While many of the post-Vatican II popes have done and sometimes even taught scandalous things, I don’t see how any of the oft-cited examples demonstrate that any of these popes ceased being the pope.

After all, it’s not as if we lack precedent for popes doing, allowing, or even teaching false things prior to Vatican II. One of the most well known instances of this is the case of Pope Honorius. As Erick Ybarra documents,9 there is absolutely no denying that the Sixth Ecumenical Council, along with Pope St. Leo II, condemned Pope Honorius for having taught the Monothelite heresy. Contrary to what some Catholic apologists claim, Honorius was not distinguished from the other heretics condemned by Constantinople III. Rather, as St. Leo II taught, not only the heretics “Sergius, Paul; Pyrrhus and Peter,” but even “together with them the Roman Honorius,” all collectively “contaminated” the “immaculate rule of apostolic tradition.”10 Indeed, in a letter read out loud at the Eighth Ecumenical Council, Pope Hadrian II taught that Pope Honorius was lawfully “anathematized after his death by the easterners” because “he had been accused of heresy, which is the only offense where inferiors have the right to resist the initiatives of their superiors or are free to reject their false opinions.”11

It’s clear that, according to these ancient pontiffs, one of their predecessors had, in fact, taught heresy in his official capacity as pope.12 Not only this, but this reality is what justified disobedience to the pope’s initiatives and teachings.

Notably, with the full support of Rome, the 10th session of the Eighth Ecumenical Council would go on to declare something striking:

Together with the aforesaid councils we accept as in harmony and agreement the holy ecumenical sixth council, which sagely asserted that in the two natures of the one Christ there are in consequence two operations and the same number of wills; we therefore anathematize Theodore bishop of Pharan, Sergius, Pyrrhus, Paul and Peter, the impious bishops of the church of Constantinople, and with them Honorius of Rome together with Cyrus of Alexandria, Macarius of Antioch and his disciple Stephen, who, following the doctrines and false opinions of the impious heresiarchs Apollinarius, Eutyches and Severus, taught without sense or reason that the flesh of God, animated by a rational and intellectual soul, lacks both will and operation.

Fr. Richard Price, The Acts of the Council of Constantinople of 869-70, p. 414.

Wow! According to an Ecumenical Council accepted by the Catholic Church in the 9th century, a Roman pontiff had “follow[ed] the doctrines and false opinions” of heretics, and actually “taught” these heresies himself. None of these judgments have ever been reversed or rescinded since. To this day, it remains the official and magisterial teaching of the Catholic Church that Pope Honorius taught heretical doctrines in his official capacity as the pope.

Now, before any Eastern Orthodox or “Old Catholics” get too excited, there’s a wrench I have to throw into this discussion. At the very Ecumenical Council we’ve been discussing, Constantinople IV, more was said about the papacy, and it ends up nuancing this conversation quite a bit. See for yourself:

Salvation lies first and foremost in keeping the rule of the orthodox faith, and then in departing in no way from the decrees of God and the fathers. Of these one pertains to faith and the other to good works. For as it is written, ‘Without faith it is impossible to please God’, so we also read, ‘Faith without works is dead.’ And as it is impossible to overlook the saying of our Lord Jesus Christ, ‘You are Peter and on this rock I shall build my Church’, so these words are proved by the actual outcome, since the Catholic religion has always been preserved without stain, and the holy doctrines preached, in the Apostolic See [Rome]. Since therefore we have no desire to depart from her faith and doctrine, but in all things the decrees of the fathers and in particular of the holy bishops of the Apostolic See, we anathematize all the heresies together with the iconoclasts. We also anathematize Photius… Because, as we have already said, we follow the Apostolic See in all things and observe all its decrees, we hope for the favour of enjoying the single communion that the Apostolic See proclaims, in which is the complete and true totality of the Christian religion. And as regards those who are separated from the communion of the Catholic Church, namely, those who are in opposition to the Apostolic See, we promise not to read out their names in the sacred mysteries.

Fr. Richard Price, The Acts of the Council of Constantinople of 869-70, pp. 129-131.

This is a bit strange. The very Ecumenical Council that declared Pope Honorius to have taught heresy in his official capacity as pope, also teaches that, because of Christ’s promise to St. Peter in Matthew 16:18-19, “the Catholic religion has always been preserved without stain” in the Apostolic See of Rome. It even goes so far as to equate “those who are separated from the communion of the Catholic Church” with “those who are in opposition to the Apostolic See.” I’m not sure how you can interpret this as anything other than an affirmation of papal infallibility.13

Think about it. If a man believes that the perfect preservation of the Catholic faith in the Church of Rome is what “proves” that Jesus’ promise to St. Peter is true, and that the inheritor of Christ’s promise to Peter is the bishop of Rome (the successor of Peter), then how does he avoid the conclusion that the pope infallibly teaches the Catholic faith? I don’t think he can. Indeed, if a man declares, as this text does, that “opposition to the Apostolic See” of Rome entails “separat[ion] from the communion of the Catholic Church,” then how could he believe that it’s possible for the pope to make the embrace of heresy a condition for communion with the Apostolic See? That seems incoherent. And don’t think for a second that this is just “Byzantine flattery.” These interpretations of our Lord’s commission to blessed Peter are the very basis upon which the fathers of Constantinople IV anathematized and excommunicated real people from the Church of God. I struggle to see how such solemn decisions could be based on something as weak as flowery language that nobody really believes.

Thus, we’re left with a tension. The very authority that affirms the possibility of at least some kinds of papal error, also affirms the impossibility of other kinds of papal error. The same Constantinople IV that declares Pope Honorius to have “follow[ed] the doctrines and false opinions” of heretics, also declares that Jesus’ promises to Peter “are proved by the actual outcome, since the Catholic religion has always been preserved without stain, and the holy doctrines preached, in the Apostolic See.” Somehow, a pope teaching heresy was not enough for the fathers of Constantinople IV to believe that the Church of Rome no longer taught the pure and undefiled Catholic faith. And there’s nothing obviously contradictory about this state of affairs. It just means that the pope teaching heresy wasn’t equated with the Apostolic See teaching heresy. This is the tension that Vatican I seeks to resolve by limiting the scope of papal infallibility to ex cathedra decrees. According to Vatican I, it’s only by speaking ex cathedra that the pope infallibly defines the faith of the Apostolic See.

In the next article, we’ll do a deep dive on the Sixth Ecumenical Council (Constantinople 681) and whether or not the condemnation of Pope Honorius challenges Rome’s traditional teaching on her own doctrinal infallibility. For now, I’ll leave you with this. The tension between papal infallibility and papal error is nothing new. In a mystical sense, it even goes back to St. Peter himself, whose betrayal of the Lord was foreshadowed immediately after his appointment as the rock and key-bearer of the Church (Matt 16:22-23). However, what is new, what is novel, is the idea that the Church can perpetually exist without the papacy. From my study of Scripture, Tradition, and history, that idea is one that I simply cannot accept.

Read the next article in this series.

This is the second installment in an article series that revolves around the question, “should we still be Catholic?” Read the previous article here. This article has been re-published so that it’s free to access. I’ve decided that the rest of the articles in this series will be free as well.

Okay, so maybe there are compelling scriptural and historical-theological reasons that explain why someone like myself would follow the pope of Rome. No informed student of theology and history would declare my “papal position” to be without any merit whatsoever. However, what about the current pope of Rome? Surely nothing could justify remaining in communion with a man who openly allows sodomites to flaunt their sin in St. Peter’s Basilica, right?

Let’s think this through. If what I’ve written in the previous article is correct, then we have very good reason to believe that the bishop of the Roman Church is the divinely instituted successor of St. Peter, and the visible head of the Mystical Body of Christ on earth. This fact alone makes for a pretty good reason not to sever communion with the Roman pontiff, Pope Leo XIV. So what’s the accusation being brought forward for why the pope is no longer worth following?

On the one hand, Pope Leo,1 and heck even Pope Francis,2 affirm that marriage is the only legitimate place for sexual relations to occur, and that marriage can only exist between a man and a woman. It follows from this that they both affirm, with the Catechism of the Catholic Church, that “homosexual acts are intrinsically disordered,” and “under no circumstances can they be approved.”3 This is further evidenced by the fact that neither one of them has changed this section of the Catechism, even though Pope Francis did not hesitate to change the Catechism to fit his novel beliefs about the death penalty. However, on the other hand, Pope Francis and now Pope Leo have clearly contradicted this teaching in practice. From allowing homosexual couples to be “blessed” in some way, to permitting a rainbow cross to process into St. Peter’s Basilica with impunity, to not excommunicating Fr. James Martin… our pontiffs are, at the very least, true hypocrites.

So what am I to do? How should I, a Catholic layman, respond to my shepherds being blatant hypocrites? Well, like any good Christian, the first thing I try to do when faced with a difficult situation is seek counsel from our Lord Jesus. Thankfully, He seems to have given instruction for precisely this predicament:

The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat, so do and observe whatever they tell you, but not the works they do. For they preach, but do not practice. They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger.

Matthew 23:2-4

According to our Lord Jesus, the reason why His disciples (prior to His death, resurrection, and ascension) were to “do and observe” whatever the scribes and Pharisees told them was because these authorities “sit on Moses’ seat.” Apparently, Jesus didn’t respond to the Pharisees’ claim of a kind of Mosaic succession with, “that’s not anywhere in Scripture!” Rather, He accepted their claim. What’s even more striking, though, is that Jesus didn’t believe that the Pharisees’ hypocritical actions, nor even their false teachings (cf. Matt 15:1-9), meant that His disciples were thereby permitted to denounce the teachers of the Law as illegitimate authorities and then usurp that role for themselves. It was only after Pentecost, after a new extraordinary divine mission was created, that Peter and the apostles would famously declare, “We must obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29). Prior to our Lord granting His apostles a new extraordinary mission (cf. Lk 24:49), the ordinary mission of the scribes and the Pharisees was respected, even in the midst of them being “children of hell” and “sons of their father the devil” (cf. Matt 23:15; Jn 8:44).

Thus, it seems we have quite strong biblical precedent for “remaining in communion” with the ordinary mission that’s governing the Lord’s people, even if that institution is being run by morally and theologically questionable men. At least, we have precedent for remaining in communion until a new prophet or apostle is extraordinarily sent by God to abolish or reconstitute the hierarchy—something not even the Protestant Reformers claimed to be doing.

Nor do we lack precedent for this in the Old Testament. If anyone ever had the right to usurp the authority of the one ruling over God’s people, or to at least seek a different ruler, it would have been King David. David quite literally had an extraordinary mission from God, through the prophet Samuel, to be the king of Israel (1 Sam 16:1-13), and the current king was trying to kill him. Yet David never attempted to use his God-given authority to displace the wicked King Saul. At every turn, David was fiercely loyal to Saul for no other reason than the fact that he was the legitimate ruler of Israel: “The Lord forbid that I should do this thing to my lord, the Lord’s anointed, to put out my hand against him, seeing he is the Lord’s anointed” (1 Sam 24:6). Even after Saul’s death, David continued to be loyal to this wicked king who completely rebelled against the Lord, once again citing the fact that, despite everything, Saul truly was the Lord’s anointed (cf. 2 Sam 1:14-16).

Do I even have to mention the other wicked kings of Israel who, despite sometimes constructing and worshiping pagan idols themselves (just read 1-2 Kings), were still recognized as the legitimate rulers of God’s people? As far as I’m aware, there’s not a single biblical precedent of someone, without an extraordinary mission from God, breaking communion with the ordinary mission governing the Lord’s people and legitimately re-establishing their own. Perhaps the closest you get to this is the Maccabean revolt, however, the legitimacy of Israel’s royal and priestly lines was so confused after that point that only an extraordinary mission from God could resolve the situation. This is, in fact, one of the reasons why Jesus came to be Israel’s true King and High Priest precisely when He did. At best, the Maccabees are “the exception that proves the rule” by demonstrating that, when the ordinary mission was thrown off course even by righteous men, only the Messiah Himself could re-establish order.

But since the Messiah has already come, and I’m therefore not expecting anymore extraordinary missions from God until the Day of Judgment (cf. Matt 21:33-46), I don’t see how I have any right to disrupt the ordinary mission of the Church by seeking other ecclesiastical rulers or somehow declaring myself to be one. At the very least, I don’t understand why I would have any kind of obligation to do this even if it was allowed (which I don’t believe it is). Regardless of how difficult things get, I’m quite convicted by the biblical precedent of recognizing legitimate authority.

So where does this leave me with respect to the modern popes? Thankfully, we haven’t gotten to the point where the Roman pontiff is commanding the worship of pagan gods or disobedience to the Lord under pain of death (cf. 1 Macc 1:44-50). In fact, as I’ve explained before,4 the dogma of papal infallibility exists to ensure that something like this could never happen. Unlike King Antiochus IV, the Catholic Church teaches that it’s impossible for the pope of Rome to command heresy or sacrilege under pain of spiritual death, i.e. excommunication or anathema. This is, quite literally, the definition of an ex cathedra papal decree: a definitive teaching that cannot be resisted without incurring severance from the Body of Christ (more will be said on this later). I simply do not believe that any of the teachings that the episcopate headed by the modern papacy definitively requires me to believe are contrary to divine revelation. I also haven’t seen any new prophets or apostles running around claiming that God wants me to leave Catholicism. I therefore don’t see any good reason to rebel against the ordinary mission that’s governing the Lord’s people in the Catholic Church.

However, despite all of this, some people just aren’t satisfied. Perhaps they intellectually agree that everything I’ve said above makes sense, but they nonetheless feel like something is still “off” about the modern Catholic hierarchy. I can definitely sympathize with this perspective, and so I’ll wrap up by leaving the reader with a biblical framework that I’ve found to be very helpful in trying to understand the current crisis in the Catholic Church. Just bear with me.

As I’ve explained before,5 there’s good reason to believe that Revelation 20:1-3 was written with Matthew 16:18-19 in mind. We know this because these are the only two texts in the entire Bible (both Old and New Testaments) that use the words “keys,” κλεῖδας, “bind,” δήσῃς, and “loose,” λύσῃς, all together. Indeed, Revelation mentions these keys multiple times (Rev 1:18; 9:1), and the second time they show up they’re explicitly connected to the “key of David” from Isaiah 22:22 (Rev 3:7). This is significant because, as Suan Sonna has demonstrated at length,6 Matthew 16:18-19 is also a direct allusion to this very text from Isaiah. Not only this, but Revelation 1:18 further identifies these keys as the keys “of Hades,” ᾅδου, which is exactly what Matthew 16:18-19 implies as well. St. Peter uses “the keys” to “bind” and “loose” in order that he might keep “the gates of Hades” at bay. Peter doesn’t just unlock the gates of heaven, he also binds the gates of hell.

I posit that this is the very image we’re presented with in Revelation 20:1-3. We see “an angel” with “the key” to Hades who, after casting “that ancient serpent, who is the devil and Satan,” into hell, then “binds” him there during the millennium, after which he’s “loosed” for a little while. I’ve explained before how, in Revelation, the words “angel” and “elder” are intentionally flipped.7 This is seen most clearly in Revelation 1:20 when St. John makes reference to “the angels of the seven churches” he’s writing to. These aren’t guardian angels, these are bishops, “elders” who watch over their respective churches. The inverse can be found in Revelation 4:4 where we see “twenty-four elders” in heaven, even though no mere human souls were yet in heaven (cf. Rev 6:10; 14:13). I believe the “angel” in Revelation 20:1 follows this same pattern. This isn’t an angelic being, but rather a bishop, likely even St. Peter himself.

The so-called “millennium,” the thousand year reign of Christ, isn’t difficult to identify either. Revelation 20:4 explicitly tells us that the millennium is that period of time during which the Saints reign with Christ in heaven. Thus, if you believe that there are currently Saints in heaven reigning with Christ, then you believe that we’re currently in the millennium. The millennium is the “age of the Church” on earth.

Benjamin, where are you going with this? Okay okay. The picture we get from Revelation 20:1-3 is that, with the keys given to Peter and the apostles, the keys with which ecclesiastical discipline is administered (cf. Matt 18:17-18), the Church will continuously bind Satan in hell “so that he might not deceive the nations any longer.” However, there will come a time when those very keys will be used to “loose” the devil “for a little while,” allowing for mass deception to occur. Now, because this happens after “the thousand years were ended,” i.e. after the age of the Church, the literal fulfillment of this will be at the end of time during the reign of the Antichrist. But like most things in the book of Revelation, I believe there are microcosmic fulfillments of this pattern throughout the rest of the Church age as well.

There are some eras of Church history when the successors of Peter and the apostles wield the keys of ecclesiastical discipline well. Unrepentant sinners and heretics are rightfully cast out of the Church, false doctrines are anathematized, the truth of the gospel is taught clearly, and so on. All of this “binds” the serpent and keeps “the gates of hell” at bay. Yet there are other eras of Church history when this isn’t the case. Unrepentant sinners and heretics are allowed to roam free in the Church, false doctrines aren’t clearly condemned, and even the gospel itself gets watered down. During these times, the successors of Peter and the apostles aren’t using the keys of the Church well, and so they’re letting the serpent “loose” for a little while. Of course, the gates of hell will never prevail, as our Lord promised, but they will feel close.

This is precisely the kind of era in Church history that I believe we’re in. Our shepherds in Christ, those who lawfully wield the keys of the kingdom, aren’t using their authority as they ought to. Rather than using the keys to excommunicate false teachers like Fr. James Martin, they’re instead using them to suppress and demoralize those who speak out in defense of the truth. This is a tragedy, one that’s actively allowing the devil to roam free and deceive the nations. However, it’s not a tragedy that implies that the successors of Peter and the apostles have forfeited their authority.

In Numbers 35:33-34, the Lord tells the people of Israel that shedding the blood of innocents cries out for vengeance. And if it’s not expiated through executing those who committed the crime, then the land itself will become “polluted,” it’ll get sick. Eventually, if the illness gets bad enough, the land “will vomit you out as it vomited out the nations that were before you” (Lev 18:28). This is why, throughout Deuteronomy, administering the death penalty is described with the ominous phrase, “you shall purge the evil from your midst” (Deut 13:5; 17:7; 19:19; 21:21; 22:21, 24; 24:7). Importantly, St. Paul uses this exact phrase in 1 Corinthians 5:13 with reference to ecclesiastical discipline. With Paul’s apostolic authority (1 Cor 5:3-5), the Corinthians were to cast unrepentant sinners out of their congregation in order to make their celebration of the Holy Eucharist more pure (1 Cor 5:6-8). As it is written, “Purge the evil person from among you” (1 Cor 5:13).

In an era of Church history when our ecclesiastical hierarchs aren’t obeying the command of St. Paul to expel unrepentant sinners, is it any surprise that we feel as though the land has been “polluted”? I think not. Of course, the new covenant is not identical to the old covenant. Whereas ancient Israel had to live in fear of being exiled from the promised land, the new covenant is defined by the permanent residence of God’s people in the land, the new Israel, the Church (cf. Amos 9:11-15; Jer 23:5-8; 32:37-41; Ezek 37:21-28; Isa 11:10-12). However, there is nonetheless a real sense in which faithful Catholics are undergoing a kind of “exile.” We’re not literally expelled from the Church, but there’s such hostility towards us that it sometimes feels like we are. Something that must be remembered, though, is that even during Israel’s literal exiles from the land, her priesthood did not lose its legitimacy. How much more, then, must the Catholic priesthood retain its legitimacy in the midst of the current crisis?

Ultimately, the story told by Revelation 20:1-3 is not that the Church’s hierarchy loses the keys after the serpent has been set loose. Rather, it’s that the successors of Peter and the apostles truly can be responsible for misusing the authority entrusted to them, and when that happens, the consequences are disastrous. So disastrous, in fact, that it causes a kind of exile for the people of God. Woe, then, to those priests, bishops, and even popes who have allowed the land to become polluted by wickedness! Woe to those who wield the power of ecclesiastical discipline and yet refuse to administer it! I’m thankful that I won’t be in their shoes at the dread Judgment. However, I pray that I also won’t be in the shoes of those who abandoned the Mystical Body of Christ as she underwent her passion.

Read the next article in this series.