Club Church

"One altar/sacrifice/bishop forces the breaking down of those barriers that we naturally erect (along ethnic lines and nationalist lines and class lines and …) as a function of the sin that expresses itself not just in Gen 3 but quite fundamentally in Gen 10. Otherwise the church is built-bottom up in our own image (or our collective, ethnic, nationalist … image), and becomes a club for those who associate with others who think like them and act like them (…), others whom they’d be comfortable associating with in any case, and fails utterly to appreciate the radical newness and inclusiveness of the religion centered around the Gospel."

- Neal Judisch, professor of philosophy at the University of Oklahoma.

(Source)

Seeing Schism as Schism

Today marks the beginning of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity.

When a sin becomes sufficiently commonplace, we tend to lose the ability to see it for what it is. It becomes merely something that 'everyone does.' We lose sight of its evil, and take it for granted. It blends into the background of our daily lives. And when we no longer see it as evil, we no longer labor to eliminate it. We refer it to fallen 'human nature,' whose only cure is the Second Coming. We might even mock those who work against it, treating them as foolish idealists.

What is true of sin in general is also true of schism. The fact of schism has become so commonplace that very few recognize it for what it is. It is as if schism simply disappeared, one of those evils of long ago, but one which has no referent or application among us today. It disappeared by becoming ubiquitous and ordinary. We swept schism under the rug of diversity, making the fact of division the new unity. We think nothing of there being Catholic, Orthodox, Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian, Lutheran, Reformed, Anglican, Pentecostal, Independent, Seventh Day Adventists, ... etc., etc., buildings on each block. We look at them and think that's the way it is supposed to be. We do not think, "Wow, look at all the schism." That's not how we see. Schism is so normal that we don't see it as schism.

The first step in overcoming an evil is recognizing it as an evil. And the first step in overcoming schism, is seeing it for what it is, seeing our divisions as divisions. May God give us the eyes to see.

Pray the prayer for the first day of the Octave.

What a homily: An Anglican on the Unity of the Church

'We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.’

+ In the name of the Father …

Every Sunday, week by week, and on certain other feast days, we recite the Creed, and during this Advent, I shall preach on each of its four Sundays on the Church that we say in the Creed we believe to be one, holy, catholic and apostolic. ...

So I start by examining the statement that we believe that the Church is One – although it is very much the case that every part of ‘We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church’ supports and is supported by each of the others. It is one statement, not four.

We believe that the Church is One.

continue reading

Tertullian and St. Cyprian: On the Unity of the Church (audio)

Professor Feingold's fifth lecture in his series on the early Church Fathers is now available for download here. The title of the lecture is "Tertullian and St. Cyprian: On the Unity of the Church." This lecture in particular is directly relevant to the purpose of this blog, in pursuing the reconciliation of all Christians in full visible unity. Tertullian and St. Cyprian [represented in the icon at right] were both African Christians, writing at the beginning and middle of the third century, respectively. In their writings we have a window into the early Church's understanding of the nature of the Church and the principle of the Church's unity. As you listen, ask yourself this: What are the implications of Tertullian and St. Cyprian's understanding of the Church for contemporary Christians, especially for Protestant-Catholic reunion? If you have thoughts or questions about the lecture (especially regarding Church unity), please free to comment below.

Fr. Longenecker's trilemma

Fr. Longenecker, drawing from Cardinal Newman, lays out a trilemma between latitudinarianism, sectarianism, and Catholicism. Read more.

Settling for division as though it were unity

The Handing-over the Keys (1515)
Sanzio Raffaello

One of the most common conversations I have with Protestants has to do with unity. I am asked why Protestants are not permitted to receive the Eucharist in the Catholic Church, and why the Catholic Church does not allow Catholics to receive communion in Protestant services. I explain that the Eucharist is a sign of unity, and so because from the point of view of the Catholic Church, Protestants are in schism from the Church, therefore for Protestants to receive the Eucharist in the Catholic Church, or for Catholics to receive communion with Protestants, would be a lie. In response, the Protestant usually says that Protestants do not see themselves as being in schism or divided from Catholics, but that we are all united in Christ; we all love Jesus and share belief in the essentials of Christianity.

I respond by explaining that there are two different conceptions of unity in use here, because there are two different conceptions of what it is that Christ founded. Protestants generally believe that the church that Christ founded is a spiritual, invisible entity, though some of its members (i.e. those who are still living in this present life) are visible. In the general Protestant mindset, anyone who has faith in Christ is a member of the one church that Christ founded. Protestants generally do not believe that Christ founded a visible, hierarchically organized Body, or that if He did, such a Body is still around. This Protestant conception of the church as invisible arose in the 16th century. It does away with the very possibility of schism.

The Catholic Church for two thousand years has believed and taught that Christ founded a visible, hierarchically organized Body. This notion of the Church as a visible, hierarchically organized Body has implications for what it means to be in unity. In the Protestant conception of the church as a spiritual, invisible entity, what counts as 'the essentials' is ultimately up to each person to decide. But given the Catholic conception of the Church as a visible hierarchically organized Body, what counts as 'the essentials' is determined definitively by the Church authorities. And what these authorities have determined to be essential includes much more than the lowest common denominator of Evangelicalism. Therefore, from the Catholic point of view, Protestants are not in union with the Church regarding the essentials of Christianity, not only doctrinally, but also regarding the sacraments. From the point of view of the Catholic Church, for example, Protestants do not have a valid Eucharist, because Protestantism has not preserved apostolic succession. And likewise, for this same reason, from the point of view of the Catholic Church, Protestant ministers do not have valid ordinations.

These two conceptions of the Church, one visible, and the other invisible, also have different implications for what it means to be united in one Body. If what Christ founded is invisible, but has visible members, then the only thing necessary to be fully united to this invisible entity is faith in Christ. The notion of schism is then reduced to a deficiency in love, insofar as one person having faith in Christ fails to love sufficiently another person having faith in Christ. Unity and schism are then fundamentally spiritual. So given the Protestant conception of the church as spiritual, it follows that if we love Jesus and love one another, we are in full communion, no matter to which religious organization or congregation we belong. By contrast, given the Catholic notion of the Church as a visible hierarchically organized Body, it follows that in order to be in full communion with the Church, one must not only believe the faith taught by that hierarchy, one must be under the authority of that hierarchy.

Some Protestants do claim to believe in a visible Church. But by that they mean that there are many local congregations each with its own visible hierarchy (e.g. head pastor, assistant pastor, deacons, etc.), and that every Christian should be a member of one such local congregation. According to these Protestants, these local congregations need not be part of one catholic (i.e. universal) visible hierarchy. Rather, these local congregations that are each visible hierarchically organized bodies are invisibly united to each other by sharing the same basic faith in Christ and love for Christ. One problem with this position is that its claim that visible hierarchical unity is essential at the local level, but not at any higher level, is arbitrary. If the local church needs a hierarchical organization, then so does the universal Church. But if the universal Church does not need hierarchical organization, then neither does the local congregation. Another problem is that this claim reduces either to the position that Christ founded many Churches, and thus has many Bodies and many Brides, or that the Church Christ founded is itself a spiritual, invisible entity, though some of its members, both individual persons and visible local congregations, are visible.

This is why there is no middle position between the teaching of the Catholic Church that Christ founded one universal, visible, and hierarchically organized Body to which all Christians should belong in full communion, and the Protestant notion that the Church Christ founded is fundamentally an invisible spiritual entity to which all those having faith in Christ already belong, regardless of where and with whom they worship. This is also why a Protestant conception of the Church entails apathy about the present disunity of all Christians. Most Protestants see the fact that there is a different denomination represented on every street corner as normal, or even healthy. The very idea that there should be only one Christian institution in every city and all over the world, is completely outside their imaginative horizon, let alone the intended goal of any ecumenical endeavors they might undertake. In the general Protestant mindset, since by our faith in Christ we are already in full communion with each other, there is no reason to pursue any further unity. The pursuit of unity is, according to this notion, merely the attempt to help us all acknowledge what is already true, i.e. that we all are already in full communion. From this Protestant point of view, ecumenicism is at most an exercise in provoking a corporate self-awareness and enlightenment.

In the Catholic mindset, by contrast, ecumenicism is about healing actual divisions, reconciling those separated from the Church by actual (not merely mental) schisms. How? By reconciling them with the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church that Christ founded. That notion sounds arrogant to most Protestants, precisely because for Protestants the Church is invisible; no institution has any more claim to being the true Church than does any other. That would be true if all visibly organized bodies were founded by mere men. But it isn't true if one visible hierarchically organized Body was founded by the God-man, Jesus Christ. Catholics believe that Christ founded precisely that, and gave its keys to Peter. For the Protestant, to believe in Christ is already to be reconciled to His Church. But given the Catholic conception of the Church, to be fully united to Christ, one must be fully united with and incorporated into the visible and hierarchically organized Church that Christ founded.

To our Protestant brothers and sisters we say, "Your vision of the unity Christ intended the Church to have is too small; you've settled for division as though it were unity." The problem is worse than that. The notion that the Church is invisible performatively denies Christ's incarnation, by treating the Body of Christ as though it were something invisible, as I explained here. Moreover, our visible divisions testify falsely to the world that God is divided, and thus deprive the world of what Christ wants to give it: an embodied vision of the unity and love within the Trinity. Christ's prayer in John 17 requires visible unity among His followers, because through our unity with one another the world is supposed to see the unity of the Son with the Father. The Church as the Body of Christ is to continue Christ's mission of despoiling the principalities and powers (Col 2:15) of the prisoners they held captive, as He did when He descended into Hades (Eph 4:9) after saying "It is finished." Of this mission Christ tells us that the gates of Hades will not prevail; they will not withstand the Church in her mission (Matt 16:18). This is our mission, now, and we need to be standing together in full communion to complete it.

Lord Jesus, in your divine mercy, may this schism that now separates Catholics and Protestants be healed. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

"That they may be one, just as We are one"

The Cestello Annunciation

Sandro Botticelli (1489)

I just returned from the annual American Maritain Association conference, which was held in Boston this year. This year's conference was excellent. And Boston is beautiful this time of year, as all the trees are in their prime. At this conference I was especially impressed by the papers given by Dr. Lawrence Feingold, a convert to Catholicism in 1989, currently teaching for Ave Maria University's Institute for Pastoral Studies. His dissertation The Natural Desire to See God According to St. Thomas Aquinas and His Interpreters is being published by Sapientia Press, I believe.

What is the significance of the Annunciation? It is the moment of the incarnation, when Christ takes on human nature, and becomes man, with a human body and a human soul. Meditating on the incarnation helps us understand that Christ's Mystical Body (Rom 12; 1 Cor 10:17, 1 Cor 12, Eph 4, Col 3:15), the Church, must be a visible Body, that is, a unified hierarchical organization. That is significant because I occasionally receive a comment that reflects a rather common point of view. The comment runs something like this:

Your blog is about unity among Christians. But you and people who think like you are precisely the problem. You make people think that Christians are divided, when in actuality all Christians are already united. You are just choosing to see Christians as divided. We choose to worship differently, in different denominations, and in different styles, but that doesn't mean that we're divided. We're all Christians; we all love Jesus, and we're all united. What you refer to as divisions are merely variations, a kind of diversity within a spiritual unity. You are mistaking diversity for division.

Here's my short reply. That a deep and sincere love for Jesus can be found in each of the different denominations and traditions goes without saying. But Christ founded a visible Church (one hierarchically organized Body), with visible authorities (i.e. Peter, James, John, etc.). It wasn't the case in the first century that individual Christians could worship however they wanted, with whomever they wanted, while remaining in the Church. St. Clement of Rome (d. 99 AD) writes:

"The Apostles have preached the gospel to us from the Lord Jesus Christ; Jesus Christ [has done so] from God. Christ therefore was sent forth by God, and the Apostles by Christ. Both these appointments, then, were made in an orderly way, according to the will of God. Having therefore received their orders, and being fully assured by the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ, and established in the word of God, with full assurance of the Holy Ghost, they went forth proclaiming that the kingdom of God was at hand. And thus preaching through countries and cities, they appointed the first fruits [of their labours], having first proved them by the Spirit, to be bishops and deacons of those who should afterwards believe."

Just as Christ had been sent by the Father, and as the Apostles had received their orders from Christ, so the bishops whom the Apostles appointed received their orders from the Apostles.

And St. Ignatius of Antioch (d. 107 AD) writes:

"Let all follow the bishop as Jesus Christ did the Father, and [follow] the priests, as you would the Apostles. Reverence the deacons as you would the command of God. Apart from the bishop, let no one perform any of the functions that pertain to the Church. Let that Eucharist be held valid which is offered by the bishop or by one to whom the bishop has committed this charge."

If believers wished to be Christians (i.e. true followers of Christ), they had to believe what Christ's Apostles taught, and worship as the Apostles taught, and submit to the decisions of the Apostles (e.g. Acts 15). When the Apostles ordained bishops to succeed them, these bishops received authority from the Apostles, as the Apostles had received authority from Christ, to teach and govern the Church in the Apostles' (and Christ's) name. They held the authoritative interpretation of the Apostles' teachings and the Church's doctrines. To reject these bishops was to reject the Apostles, because the choosing and authorizing of these bishops was also part of the Apostles' words and deeds. These bishops then ordained bishops to succeed them, and so on. To separate from the Apostles, or to separate from the bishops whom the Apostles had ordained, or the bishops whom they had ordained, was to be in schism. And that has remained true from that time until the present. Schism is only intelligible in the context of apostolic succession. Apart from apostolic succession, there is no principled difference between division and diversity.

To be in complete unity, therefore, we all need to be in the same Church, the very Church that Christ founded. Christ founded only one Church (Matthew 16:18), for Christ has only one Body, one Bride. If we disagree about doctrine, or disagree about worship, or disagree about what the Church is and which persons are the rightful leaders of the Church, then we are not as united as Jesus wants us to be, as seen in His prayer in John 17. He wants us to be perfectly one, as He and the Father are perfectly one. If all these various denominations that disagree with each other are not in schism, then schism is no longer possible. Yet schism is something that the Apostles and the fathers forbid. So an ecclesiology without the possibility of schism cannot be a true ecclesiology. I have written about this in more detail in the following posts:

The Sacrilege of Schism

Branches or Schisms?

Branches or Schisms? 2

Branches or Schisms? 3

Schism from a Gnostic Point of View

Christ Founded a Visible Church

Marriage and "spiritual unity"

Unity and Mere Christianity

Church and Jesus are Inseparable

Dodos, Passenger Pigeons, Schisms

St. Ignatius of Antioch shows us the way to unity

Today is the feast day of St. Ignatius, bishop of Antioch, who was martyred in Rome in 107 AD under the Emperor Trajan. St. Ignatius shows us the way to unity by teaching us what the Catholic Church believed about ecclesial authority. It is what the same Catholic Church still believes and teaches today.

St. Ignatius, pray for us that all those who love our Lord Jesus will be united in full visible unity, for the glory and honor of our Lord Jesus, and for the salvation of the world.

Unity, my way

In The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis describes "grey town" as a place that is constantly expanding at its outskirts as people perpetually try to get farther away from each other, unable to get along with each other, and wanting to be lord of their own domain. That desire for autonomy continually divides and separates the citizens of 'grey town' from each other. I think it plays a similar role here on earth, even among Christians.

Responding to Catholic claims that we cannot have unity without a "uniform teaching authority", Michael Spencer writes:

I agree with your basic contention that we need the boundaries of unity and authority in order to talk about the "Christian faith." Millions of people reading their favorite verses to one another won't produce unity. If Protestantism has demonstrated anything, it's that.

But what kind of unity? Many of us believe that a kind of "creedal minimalism" brings the necessary unity to Christianity. The Nicene and Apostles' Creeds provide this minimum coverage, and the leadership of local churches (or geographic/denominational structures) use it for the purposes of mission, definition and discipline.

In other words, we don't believe that the infallible teaching authority of a completely hierarchical church defining every detail of Christian faith and mining tradition for further dogma is the necessary expression of unity. All the unity we need is available through the processes of a fallible church.

Earlier this year I presented some problems with the notion of a 'mere Christianity'. (Yes, here we have Lewis vs. Lewis.) If the "fallible church" to which Michael refers is the 'invisible Church', then how the invisible Church is supposed to provide the means for unity is never spelled out by anyone. Michael agrees that if Protestantism has demonstrated anything, it is that millions of people reading the Bible are not going to come to unity by doing so. But if Protestantism has demonstrated that, then hasn't it also demonstrated the failure of the "invisible Church" to unify Christians? Yet if by "fallible Church" Michael is referring to some set of embodied human persons, then what is it, exactly, that makes persons to be members of that set, and how does Michael know this, and who gets to determine the sufficient conditions for membership in this set, and why do they and not other people get to determine these conditions? There is no circumventing the authority problem, behind which lies the fundamental reason for our present disunity. We are either submitting to God-ordained authority, or submitting to a pseudo-authority whom we mistakenly think to be a God-ordained authority, or we are taking authority to ourselves, even in the very act of constructing the conditions upon which all Christians should be unified.

"But I hate him because he never prophesies anything good about me, but always bad." (1 Kings 22:8)

The fundamental problem with heresy is not the content of belief, but the basis of that belief. The content problem [i.e. having false beliefs] is derivative and per accidens. That's why persons born into heresies are not ipso facto guilty of heresy. Gnosticism misconstrues the fundamental problem with heresy as merely propositional. Hence the gnostic life consists in an unending series of theology readings aimed at honing one's orthodoxy (whether toward maximized specificity or specified minimization). But the beginning of wisdom is not a proposition per se; it is a disposition of the will toward God. (Psalm 111:10; Proverbs 9:10) If the devil were entirely orthodox in what he believed, but had come to believe these orthodox truths not through faith and trust in God, but through his own prideful efforts, would he be less estranged from God than he is now? With respect to the basis of the content of the faith, the 'mere Christianity' mentality is no different from any other form of Protestantism. The individual remains the final arbiter of what should be believed, and in this way the notion of a 'mere Christianity' remains intrinsically disposed to perpetual fragmentation. If the ecclesial authority says that more (or less) needs to be believed than we think needs to be believed, then we simply reject that authority, move farther out, and find authorities saying pretty much what we think, more or less, needs to be believed. Unity by 'mere Christianity' is still "unity, my way". But it is precisely the "my way" that is the root cause of disunity.

"For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but wanting to have their ears tickled, they will accumulate for themselves teachers in accordance to their own desires." (2 Timothy 4:3)

The resolution of the divisions between Christians does not consist in finding a lowest-common denominator or minimal content of Christianity around which we can all agree. That is because the fundamental source of the disunity between Christians is not the intellect; it is the will. Though lack of knowledge is a factor in perpetuating divison, lack of knowledge is not the ultimate source of our divisions. The fundamental cause of the disunity between the devil and God is the devil's will; it is his sin of pride. And likewise pride was the fundamental cause of the division between Adam and God. The antidote to our present disunity is the exact opposite of pride; it is humility. And this involves submitting to Christ by submitting to the shepherd He has placed over His flock (St. John 10:16). It has never ceased to be true that "He who listens to you listens to Me; he who rejects you rejects Me". (St. Luke 10:16) It wasn't some magical effect of having seen Christ that made this true of the Apostles; it was authorization to speak on behalf of Christ, the same authorization later given by the Apostles to their episcopal successors to speak on their behalf. Apart from submission to the authority had by apostolic succession, the only remaining option is the disunity of "millions of people reading their favorite verses to one another". We can either dip in the muddy Jordan seven times with Naaman and be healed, or we can go back to the rivers of Damascus and wash in a manner of our own choosing. The former is the only way to true unity. The latter is the multifarious way of sinful man, the way of perpetual division and ever-widening separation found in "grey town". Milton's Satan says "Better to reign in hell, than serve in heav'n", and this self-exalting disorientation of the will is intrinsically related to Sartre's "hell is other people"; it is precisely this that keeps extending the limits of 'grey town'.

"Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God." (1 John 4:7)

By contrast, love turns us back around, toward unity, away from pride, away from self-exaltation, and away from division. Love does not sacrifice truth; it labors to share truth with one's neighbor, and listens to receive truth from one's neighbor, in order to be truly one with one's neighbor. That's why love is catholic, and not provincial or sectarian; love seeks to evangelize the whole world, and it listens humbly to the whole world. Love is the perfection of truth, the adequatio of person to person. And humility is bound up in love, as demonstrated in Christ's humbling of Himself in love. Love therefore is what brings us back from the outskirts of grey town, to our knees in humility before Christ and His Body, so that we may be incorporated into this one Body, with one faith, having the same Spirit, and under one hierarchy. Love draws us to dance together.

The Wedding Dance
Marten Van Cleve (1527-1581)

Without a Pope: Orthodoxy & Unity

"His All Holiness Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew addresses the heads of the Orthodox churches in the Patriarchal Cathedral of Saint George." (October 10, 2008, Photo by N. Manginas)

Patrick Archbold of Creative Minority Report published this post on Patriarch Bartholomew's Friday address to the heads of the Orthodox churches. I recommend reading the Patriarch's complete address, because it is almost all about unity, especially starting in section 5. The most interesting part comes at the end, however, when the Patriarch says this:

We need, then, greater unity in order to appear to those outside not as a federation of Churches but as one unified Church. Through the centuries, and especially after the Schism, when the Church of Rome ceased to be in communion with the Orthodox, this Throne [i.e. in Constantinople] was called -- according to canonical order -- to serve the unity of the Orthodox Church as its first Throne. And it fulfilled this responsibility through the ages by convoking an entire series of Panorthodox Councils on crucial ecclesiastical matters, always prepared, whenever duly approached, to render its assistance and support to troubled Orthodox Churches. (my emphases)

Patrick Archbold writes:

The Ecumenical Patriarch rightly sees the problem. The Church needs to be Visibly unified to the world, not just a federation of independent State churches. That visible unity must come by way of public and open Communion with One See and its Patriarch. The Ecumenical Patriarch even goes so far as to say that this responsibility falls to his see and his person only because of the break with Rome. I think, although I may be reading into this with Roman eyes, that the Ecumenical Patriarch might even agree that were communion with Rome re-established, the role of being the visible unifier of the Church would no longer fall to him and his See.

Now I know that the Patriarchs of many of these autocephalous Churches would vehemently disagree with such a notion, whether Rome or Constantinople. With that said, I think that the Ecumenical Patriarch's pitch to his fellow Orthodox is an important step in the road to full and visible Unity of the Church as Jesus prayed. If these national Churches come to realize the importance of that visible unity to the world, we will be that much closer to being one, as Jesus and the Father are one.

I agree with Patrick's comments. It is a basic principle of metaphysics that you can't get unity from non-unity, just as you can't get being from non-being. Patriarch Bartholomew wants visible unity, saying, "We need, then, greater unity in order to appear to those outside not as a federation of Churches but as one unified Church." If the Orthodox are not a mere federation of Churches, but are in fact a visible unity, then there should be no worry about their appearing as a mere federation of Churches. But if they are a mere federation of Churches, then they can't solve this disunity problem by redoubling their efforts to be more unified with each other, because the problem is in that case an ontological problem, not merely a deficiency of cooperation or collaborative effort.

Trying to achieve or establish visible unity by means of a principium unitatis, i.e. being united to an existing visible unity, likewise faces the following dilemma. If Christ did not found the Church with a principium unitatis, then clearly we should not seek to outdo Christ by establishing one. But if Christ did found the Church with a principium unitatis, then visible unity can be attained only by union with that divinely appointed principium unitatis.

Patriarch Bartholomew seems to be aware of the need for a principium unitatis for visible unity. This is revealed in his emphasis on the importance of his own Throne for the visible unity of the Church. He is thus in a difficult situation. On the one hand, without a principium unitatis there cannot be actual visible unity. On the other hand, insofar as he seeks to elevate his own Throne as a principium unitatis, he highlights the intrinsic need for Orthodox reunion with the Chair of St. Peter.

Speaking as a Catholic, it is our constant prayer and desire for the restoration of full communion with our Orthodox brothers and sisters. We long for that day of reconciliation and reunion. We pray for full visible unity among all Christians, for this is the desire of the sacred heart of our Lord Jesus, that we would be one, as He and the Father are one.

Holy Spirit, hasten the day when we are one with one another. Make our hearts to beat with the same deep desire and passion as that of Christ's heart. Heal the wounds that divide us. Help us overcome the obstacles that keep us separated. Clothe us in true humility and fill us with charity toward one another. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Baptism, Schism, Full Communion, Salvation

St Ansanus Baptizing
Giovanni di Paulo, 1440s

What does the Catholic Church believe and teach about the state of persons who are baptized but not in full communion with the Catholic Church? There are two not entirely uncommon misunderstandings of the Catholic Church's teaching on this question. One is that such persons are entirely separated from the Body of Christ and from Christ. The other is that such persons are perfectly joined to the Body of Christ and to Christ.

In order to understand the Catholic Church's teaching on this question, we first have to understand what she believes about baptism. Consider the following paragraphs from the Catechism:

"Through Baptism we are freed from sin and reborn as sons of God; we become members of Christ, are incorporated into the Church and made sharers in her mission" (CCC 1213)

"Baptism makes us members of the Body of Christ: "Therefore . . . we are members one of another." Baptism incorporates us into the Church. From the baptismal fonts is born the one People of God of the New Covenant, which transcends all the natural or human limits of nations, cultures, races, and sexes: "For by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body." (CCC 1267)

According to the Catholic Church, in baptism, the Holy Spirit frees us from sin and gives us new birth and incorporates us into Christ and His Body, the Church. But, baptism is not the end of the story.

"From the time of the apostles, becoming a Christian has been accomplished by a journey and initiation in several stages. This journey can be covered rapidly or slowly, but certain essential elements will always have to be present: proclamation of the Word, acceptance of the Gospel entailing conversion, profession of faith, Baptism itself, the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, and admission to Eucharistic communion." (CCC 1229, my emphasis)

Notice that according to the Catholic Church, becoming a Christian is not accurately understood as an instantaneous event, but rather as a process involving "several stages." For adult converts, baptism follows a profession of faith. But baptism is not the end of the process of becoming a Christian. Baptism is followed by an additional sacrament (Confirmation / Chrismation) in which one receives the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. And this is followed by admission to the highest sacrament: Holy Eucharist, a sign of full communion with the Church.

That is because although baptism incorporates a person into the Church, it does not bring a person into full communion with the Church if the person being baptized professes anything contrary to the true faith. Baptism puts such a person into an actual but "imperfect communion" with the Body of Christ. In his encyclical titled Mystici Corporis Christi, Pope Pius XII writes:

Actually only those are to be included as members of the Church who have been baptized and profess the true faith, and who have not been so unfortunate as to separate themselves from the unity of the Body, or been excluded by legitimate authority for grave faults committed. [Para. 22]

A baptized person who, due to invincible ignorance does not profess the true faith may, in virtue of his baptism, retain imperfect communion with Christ and His Church. That is, he can possibly remain in a state of grace. Likewise, a baptized person who does profess the true faith may, by committing a mortal sin, cease to be in a state of grace. Being in full communion with the Catholic Church does not entail being in a state of grace, and being in a state of grace does not entail being in full communion with the Catholic Church. But being in full communion with Christ's Church provides the greatest access to the sacramental means of grace, and thus the means of sanctification and perfection.

One objection here is that the online translation of Unitatis Redintegratio says the following:

But even in spite of them it remains true that all who have been justified by faith in Baptism are members of Christ's body,(21) and have a right to be called Christian, and so are correctly accepted as brothers by the children of the Catholic Church. (Unitatis Redintegratio, 3)

First, the translation is misleading. The Latin does not say "are members of Christ's body." It reads, "Christo incorporantur," i.e. are incorporated into Christ. Second, this statement references the Council of Florence, which stated "Holy baptism holds the first place among all the sacraments, for it is the gate of the spiritual life; through it we become members of Christ and of the body of the church." (source) The Council of Florence is only teaching that baptism makes one a member of the Body of Christ. It is not teaching that baptized persons who deny some article of the Catholic faith, or who are in a state of excommunication or are in schism from the Church, are members of the Church. The meaning of this phrase "Christo incorporantur" in Unitatis Redintegratio 3 in reference to Protestants is specified earlier in that same paragraph, which explains, "For men who believe in Christ and have been properly baptized are brought into a certain, though imperfect, communion with the Catholic Church. Undoubtedly, the differences that exist in varying degrees between them and the Catholic Church -- whether in doctrine and sometimes in discipline, or concerning the structure of the Church -- do indeed create many and sometimes serious obstacles to full ecclesiastical communion." As soon as a baptized person denies some article of the Catholic faith, or separates himself from the visible unity of the Catholic Church, then he is no longer a member in the proper sense defined by Mystici Corporis Christi, even though he remains imperfectly joined to the Church through baptism.

Though baptism does not entail full communion, baptism is the gateway for all the subsequent sacramental graces, as the Catechism explains:

"Baptism constitutes the foundation of communion among all Christians, including those who are not yet in full communion with the Catholic Church: "For men who believe in Christ and have been properly baptized are put in some, though imperfect, communion with the Catholic Church. Justified by faith in Baptism, [they] are incorporated into Christ; they therefore have a right to be called Christians, and with good reason are accepted as brothers by the children of the Catholic Church." "Baptism therefore constitutes the sacramental bond of unity existing among all who through it are reborn." (CCC 1271, my emphasis)

"The Church knows that she is joined in many ways to the baptized who are honored by the name of Christian, but do not profess the Catholic faith in its entirety or have not preserved unity or communion under the successor of Peter." Those "who believe in Christ and have been properly baptized are put in a certain, although imperfect, communion with the Catholic Church. With the Orthodox Churches, this communion is so profound "that it lacks little to attain the fullness that would permit a common celebration of the Lord's Eucharist." (CCC 838, my emphasis)

This statement shows that the Protestant is "joined in many ways" to the Catholic Church, being in a "certain, although imperfect, communion with the Catholic Church". (The communion of the Orthodox with the Catholic Church is much fuller, for we share the same sacraments, apostolic succession, and the faith as defined by the first seven Ecumenical Councils.) When a Protestant was baptized in a Protestant community (assuming it was a valid baptism), he was brought into an actual, but "imperfect, communion with the Catholic Church." Being "in the Catholic Church" is not a simple either/or; there are different stages of being "in" (or "in communion" with) the Catholic Church. Baptism is the first stage, the foundation for the others. It is the will of Christ, according to the Catholic Church, that all baptized believers be fully incorporated into His Body, the Church. This involves professing the very same faith that the Church teaches, sharing in all the same sacraments (especially the Eucharist), and recognizing and submitting to the successor of Peter and the bishops in communion with him as the successors of the Apostles. The Catechism states:

"For it is through Christ's Catholic Church alone, which is the universal help toward salvation, that the fullness of the means of salvation can be obtained. It was to the apostolic college alone, of which Peter is the head, that we believe that our Lord entrusted all the blessings of the New Covenant, in order to establish on earth the one Body of Christ into which all those should be fully incorporated who belong in any way to the People of God." (CCC 816, my emphases)

Here's what it means to be "fully incorporated" into the Catholic Church:

"Fully incorporated into the society of the Church are those who, possessing the Spirit of Christ, accept all the means of salvation given to the Church together with her entire organization, and who - by the bonds constituted by the profession of faith, the sacraments, ecclesiastical government, and communion - are joined in the visible structure of the Church of Christ, who rules her through the Supreme Pontiff and the bishops. Even though incorporated into the Church, one who does not however persevere in charity is not saved. He remains indeed in the bosom of the Church, but 'in body' not 'in heart.'" (CCC 837)

It should be clear from this in what sense the Protestant is not "fully incorporated" into the Catholic Church. The Protestant, though having some communion with the Church through his baptism, does not profess the entire Catholic faith, share the other Catholic sacraments or accept and submit to the government of the Catholic Church. Does that mean that those baptized persons who are not in full communion with the Catholic Church are unable to grow in Christ, or unable to be saved? No. The Catechism explains:

"Furthermore, many elements of sanctification and of truth" are found outside the visible confines of the Catholic Church: "the written Word of God; the life of grace; faith, hope, and charity, with the other interior gifts of the Holy Spirit, as well as visible elements." Christ's Spirit uses these Churches and ecclesial communities as means of salvation, whose power derives from the fullness of grace and truth that Christ has entrusted to the Catholic Church." (CCC 819)

Notice the phrase "visible confines of the Catholic Church." Even though, as we saw above, the Protestant is, through his baptism, in an "imperfect, communion with the Catholic Church", yet because he has not been received into full communion with the Catholic Church, he is "outside the visible confines of the Catholic Church." So, there are degrees or stages of union with (and separation from) the Catholic Church.

Does that mean that those baptized persons who believe in Christ but are not fully incorporated into the Catholic Church are guilty of the sin of separation? Not necessarily.

"However, one cannot charge with the sin of the separation those who at present are born into these communities [that resulted from such separation] and in them are brought up in the faith of Christ, and the Catholic Church accepts them with respect and affection as brothers . . . . All who have been justified by faith in Baptism are incorporated into Christ; they therefore have a right to be called Christians, and with good reason are accepted as brothers in the Lord by the children of the Catholic Church." (CCC 818)

Those who are born into ecclesial communities that are not in full communion with the Catholic Church are not guilty of the sin of separating from the Catholic Church. From the point of view of the Catholic Church, they are brothers and sisters in Christ, even though they are not yet in full communion with the Church. The Catholic Church prays that all such persons and communities will be restored to full communion with her. Why are such persons not guilty of the sin of separating from the Catholic Church? Because they did not choose to separate from the Catholic Church, nor do they "know that the Catholic Church was founded as necessary by God through Christ".

"How are we to understand this affirmation ["Outside the Church there is no salvation"], often repeated by the Church Fathers? Re-formulated positively, it means that all salvation comes from Christ the Head through the Church which is his Body:

Basing itself on Scripture and Tradition, the Council teaches that the Church, a pilgrim now on earth, is necessary for salvation: the one Christ is the mediator and the way of salvation; he is present to us in his body which is the Church. He himself explicitly asserted the necessity of faith and Baptism, and thereby affirmed at the same time the necessity of the Church which men enter through Baptism as through a door. Hence they could not be saved who, knowing that the Catholic Church was founded as necessary by God through Christ, would refuse either to enter it or to remain in it." (CCC 846, my emphasis)

The Church is very clear on this point. Those who know that the Catholic Church was founded as necessary by God through Christ, and refuse either to enter it or remain in it, cannot be saved. (This is because schism is a grave matter, and such persons would be committing a mortal sin.) That is why those who are born into separated ecclesial communities are not ipso facto guilty of the sin of separation (i.e. schism), because they know not what they do. They do not know that the Catholic Church is the Church that Christ founded and to which all men are called to enter for salvation as that of which Noah's ark was a type. Hence the Catechism says:

"This affirmation is not aimed at those who, through no fault of their own, do not know Christ and his Church: Those who, through no fault of their own, do not know the Gospel of Christ or his Church, but who nevertheless seek God with a sincere heart, and, moved by grace, try in their actions to do his will as they know it through the dictates of their conscience - those too may achieve eternal salvation." (CCC 847)

The statement "no salvation outside the Church" refers to this broadest, minimal degree of communion with the Catholic Church. That is why Catechumens (who by definition have not yet been baptized), can still be saved even if they die before their baptism, because they have what is called a "baptism by desire," and thus are already (in an initial and imperfect way) spiritually joined to the Catholic Church.

"Catechumens "are already joined to the Church, they are already of the household of Christ, and are quite frequently already living a life of faith, hope, and charity." (CCC 1249)

The Catechism thus teaches that salvation always comes from Christ through the Church, which is His Body. The necessity of baptism for salvation is a basic teaching of the Church, because the necessity of baptism is understood to be a basic teaching of Christ. The Church's teaching that it is possible for those who have never heard the Gospel to achieve eternal salvation does not negate the necessity of baptism or the necessity of Christ or His Church. It is an acknowledgment that the mercy and power of God are not necessarily limited to what we perceive with our senses. Just because we do not see a person receiving baptism, that does not mean we are justified in concluding that this person, upon death, must be in hell. That is why we cannot justifiably say that "that atheist" who died some time ago is in hell. The Church makes official declarations about certain people being in heaven (i.e. Saints), but it does not presume to be judge of which persons received eternal damnation. The Church can spell out and explicate the state of soul that leads to eternal damnation, but she does not presume to determine the eternally damned state of any particular soul; she leaves them to the mercy of God. The Catholic Church does teach that full incorporation into the Church is so important that those who know that the Catholic Church was founded as necessary by God through Christ, and yet refuse to enter it or remain in it, cannot (in that state) be saved.

The short of it is that through baptism the Protestant is actually, but imperfectly, and only invisibly, joined to the Catholic Church. Baptism is a Catholic sacrament, because it was entrusted by Christ to the Catholic Church, and has its validity through the Catholic Church, even when it is administered by a Protestant. But a Protestant (while Protestant) is not fully incorporated into the Catholic Church, or in "full communion" with the Catholic Church. That is why a Protestant cannot receive the Holy Eucharist at a Catholic parish. Does that mean that a Protestant's salvation is in jeopardy? Yes and no. Those Protestants who do not know "that the Catholic Church was founded as necessary by God through Christ" can be saved. But no one should use the Church's acknowledgment that those not in full communion with the Church can be saved as an excuse for not seeking full communion with the Church, or as a justification for remaining in schism from the Church that Christ founded. Apart from the sacraments Christ established in His Church it is much more difficult to attain to the holiness without which no one will see the Lord.

For more on the relation of baptism to Christian unity, see my post titled "Baptism and Christian Unity".

Love and Unity: Part 3

The Visitation
Mariotto Albertinelli (1503)

Part 1 is here, and part 2 is here.

In this part of my discussion on the relation of love and unity, I focus on St. Thomas Aquinas's distinction between two different kinds of love, and the types of unity to which they are ordered.

Two Types of Love
In his answer to the question "whether in God there is love", Aquinas writes the following:

An act of love always tends towards two things; to the good that one wills, and to the person for whom one wills it: since to love a person is to wish that person good. Hence, inasmuch as we love ourselves, we wish ourselves good; and, so far as possible, union with that good. So love is called the unitive force, even in God, yet without implying composition; for the good that He wills for Himself, is no other than Himself, Who is good by His essence, as above shown (6, 1, 3). And by the fact that anyone loves another, he wills good to that other. Thus he puts the other, as it were, in the place of himself; and regards the good done to him as done to himself. So far love is a binding force [vis concretiva], since it aggregates another to ourselves [quia alium aggregat sibi], and refers his good to our own. And then again the divine love is a binding force, inasmuch as God wills good to others; yet it implies no composition in God. (ST I Q.20 a.1 ad.3)

This consideration of the nature of love reveals the basis for Aquinas's distinction between love of friendship and love of concupiscence (amorem amicitiae et amorem concupiscentiae). (ST I-II Q.26 a.4) First he refers to Aristotle's statement that "to love is to wish good to someone." From this Aquinas draws the conclusion that love by its very nature has a twofold tendency: "towards the good which a man wishes to someone (to himself or to another) and towards that to which he wishes some good." This twofold tendency intrinsic to love makes possible the difference between love of friendship and love of concupiscence. He explains the difference between these two kinds of love when he says that "man has love of concupiscence towards the good that he wishes to another, and love of friendship towards him to whom he wishes good." These two kinds of love are related as primary and secondary, in this way: "that which is loved with the love of friendship is loved simply and for itself (simpliciter et per se amatur); whereas that which is loved with the love of concupiscence, is loved, not simply and for itself, but for something else."

If we love something in the sense of wishing good to it for its own sake, that is the type of love Aquinas calls 'love of friendship'. But if we love something in the sense of wishing it to be the good of something or someone else, that is the type of love he calls 'love of concupiscence'. For example, if we love an apple, we love it in the sense of wishing it to be a good for someone (either our self or someone else) when it is eaten. The type of love we have for the apple, in that case, is 'love of concupiscence'. But if we love a friend with the 'love of friendship', we love our friend not as a means to a further good to ourselves, but simpliciter et per se, that is, for his own sake, and that is why we wish good to come to him.

Aquinas then adds: "the love with which a thing is loved, that it may have some good, is love simply; while the love, with which a thing is loved, that it may be another's good, is relative love." So love of concupiscence is relative love; it is directed toward a good with the intention that it may be another's good. Love of friendship, by contrast, is love simply; it is directed toward something with the intention that it have some good.

If we are loving something as a good for ourselves, it is plain that such love is unitive in this respect, that we seek to be united to that good such that it becomes our good. In the example of loving the apple, we desire the apple to be united to us through eating the apple, so that it provides the goods of nourishing our body, satisfying our hunger and pleasing our palate. So the type of unity aimed at by the 'love of concupiscence' is the having of the beloved good by the lover.

In what way then, does the love of friendship aim at unity? Given what I have said about the manner in which love of concupiscence is unitive, it may seem initially that, as directed toward other persons, love of friendship is unitive only in the sense that the lover wishes that what is good for his friend be united to his friend. What I wish to show here and in part 4 is how the the love of friendship also seeks union of the lover and the friend.

Unity as a Cause of Love
In order develop this argument, we need to consider the ways in which union is both a cause and an effect of love. First, let us consider briefly how, according to Aquinas, union is a cause of love. According to Aquinas, union is a cause of love in two ways. The type of union that causes the love with which one loves oneself is substantial union. (ST I-II Q.28 a.1 ad.2) This claim has its basis in what Aquinas said earlier, namely, that "everything has this aptitude towards its natural form, that when it has it not, it tends towards it; and when it has it, it is at rest therein. It is the same with every natural perfection, which is a natural good." (ST I Q.19 a.1 co.) And elsewhere he writes, "But it is common to every nature to have some inclination; and this is its natural appetite or love." (ST I Q.60 a.1 co.) The transcendental relation of being, unity and goodness shows that insofar as everything is naturally inclined to its perfection, so it is naturally inclined to its being and unity. Hence Aquinas says elsewhere, "[H]ence it is that everything guards its unity as it guards its being." (Et inde est quod unumquodque, sicut custodit suum esse, ita custodit suam unitatem.)(ST I Q.11 a.1 co.)

The second way in which unity causes love is by unity of likeness. We have seen this already in our discussion of connaturality in Part 2, where we saw that the principle of movement in the appetite is the appetitive subject's connaturality with the thing to which it tends. Connaturality is a kind of likeness of natures. According to Aquinas, there are two types of likeness between things, and each type of likeness causes a different type of love. One type of likeness between two things arises when each thing has the same quality actuality. The other type of likeness between two things arises when one thing has "potentially and by way of inclination, a quality which the other has actually". (ST I-II Q.27 a.3 co.) The first type of likeness, that is, the type of likeness that arises when each thing has the same quality actuality, is love of friendship. Aquinas writes, "For the very fact that two men are alike, having, as it were, one form, makes them to be, in a manner, one in that form: thus two men are one thing in the species of humanity, and two white men are one thing in whiteness. Hence the affections of one tend to the other, as being one with him; and he wishes good to him as to himself. But the second kind of likeness causes love of concupiscence, or friendship founded on usefulness or pleasure: because whatever is in potentiality, as such, has the desire for its act; and it takes pleasure in its realization, if it be a sentient and cognitive being." (ST I-II Q.27 a.3 co.) Thus we can be caused to love another person by likeness in two general ways. Either the other person has actually some good quality that we have potentiality, or the other person has actually some quality that we have actually. In the former case, either we love the other as a means to the actualization of our potentiality, or we love the other as a pleasing subjunctive depiction of what we would be were our potentiality actualized. But in the case where both the lover and the beloved share the likeness of actuality to actuality, that which is like need not be only a quality or set of qualities; it may also be a nature, for example, human nature. Love caused directly by apprehended likeness of this sort is love of friendship.

Two types of Unity
Aquinas teaches that the union of lover and beloved is fundamentally of two sorts. "The first is real union; for instance, when the beloved is present with the lover. The second is union of affection: and this union must be considered in relation to the preceding apprehension; since movement of the appetite follows apprehension." Aquinas explains this when he says, "The first of these unions [i.e. real union] is caused effectively by love; because love moves man to desire and seek the presence of the beloved, as of something suitable and belonging to him (quasi sibi convenientis et ad se pertinentis). The second union is caused formally by love; because love itself is this union or bond. In this sense Augustine says (De Trin. viii, 10) that "love is a vital principle uniting, or seeking to unite two together, the lover, to wit, and the beloved." For in describing it as "uniting" he refers to the union of affection, without which there is no love: and in saying that "it seeks to unite," he refers to real union." (ST I-II Q.28 a.1 co.)

Again, in the reply to the second objection he writes, "There is also a union which is essentially love itself. This union is according to a bond of affection, and is likened to substantial union, inasmuch as the lover stands to the object of his love, as to himself, if it be love of friendship; as to something belonging to himself, if it be love of concupiscence. Again there is a union, which is the effect of love. This is real union, which the lover seeks with the object of his love." (ST I-II Q.28 a.1 ad.2)

In this first article of question 28, Aquinas is making two points. First he is showing that the union of affection is essentially love itself, and this union is likened [assimilatur] to substantial union inasmuch as the lover stands to the beloved as to himself (i.e. in love of friendship), and to a lesser degree if the lover stands to the beloved as one stands toward something belonging to oneself (i.e. in love of concupiscence).

Aquinas's second point is that real union is the effect or goal of love; real union is what the union of affection seeks to bring about. Regarding real union as an effect of love he says, "Moreover this union [real union] is in keeping with the demands of love (convenientiam amoris: for as the Philosopher relates (Polit. ii, 1), "Aristophanes stated that lovers would wish to be united both into one," but since "this would result in either one or both being destroyed," they seek a suitable and becoming union--to live together, speak together, and be united together in other like things." (ST I-II Q.28 a.1 ad.2) In seeking real union love does not seek to destroy its own possibility, but seeks rather that which preserves its own actuality. Both types of love seek real union of the lover with the beloved.

In the middle of this article, Aquinas distinguishes between the two types of unity that are apprehended by the lover, and which give rise to the love of concupiscence and the love of friendship, respectively. He writes, "Now love being twofold, viz. love of concupiscence and love of friendship; each of these arises from a kind of apprehension of the oneness of the thing loved with the lover. For when we love a thing, by desiring it, we apprehend it as belonging to our well-being (quasi sibi convenientis et ad se pertinentis). In like manner when a man loves another with the love of friendship, he wills good to him, just as he wills good to himself: wherefore he apprehends him as his other self (vult ei bonum sicut et sibi vult bonum, unde apprehendit eum ut alterum se), in so far, to wit, as he wills good to him as to himself. Hence a friend is called a man's "other self" (Ethic. ix, 4), and Augustine says (Confess. iv, 6), "Well did one say to his friend: Thou half of my soul." (ST I-II Q.28 a.1 co.)

The kind of unity that when apprehended gives rise to love of concupiscence is one in which the lover stands to the beloved as to something belonging to himself (ut ad aliquid sui). This unity seems to be apprehended as a potential unity. The kind of unity that when apprehended gives rise to love of friendship is one in which the lover stands to the beloved as to himself (ut ad seipsum) [ST I-II Q.28 a.1 ad.2]. This unity seems to be apprehended as an actual unity, though this leaves open the discovery and dynamic creation of further actual unity, as well as the apprehension of potential unity.

So to summarize, first, substantial unity gives rise to self love. Second, there are two types of apprehended unity that give rise to the two types of love. These two types of apprehended unity are an accidental unity (i.e. of having or possessing a good for oneself) and a formal subjective unity of being another self. They give rise to love of concupiscence and love of friendship, respectively. In the former, the union aimed at by the appetite is the union of possessing the good loved, such that this good actualizes the lover's potential and thus perfects the lover. In the love of friendship, by contrast, the union aimed at by the appetite is a union of subject with subject, and this grounds the love of concupiscence towards the good that the lover wishes to his friend. The object of the love of friendship is not loved as a means to one's own perfection, but as another self. This is primarily a spiritual union of a self with another self, an outward extension of the love that one has for oneself to that which is another self. But the beloved as an object of the 'love of friendship' does not cease to be apprehended as a good any more than in self-love the self ceases to be apprehended as a good. On the contrary, just as the self is apprehended as a qualitatively greater good than all those goods perfecting of the self, so likewise the beloved as an object of the 'love of friendship' is apprehended as a qualitatively greater good than all those goods perfecting either oneself or the beloved (God excepted).

In the next part in this series I will examine the three ways in which love effects mutual indwelling, focusing most especially on the third way. I will be focusing particularly on the way in which love of friendship seeks not only that what is good for one's friend be united to one's friend, but also seeks the union of the lover with the friend. For this I will draw on Aquinas's commentary on chapter four of book nine of Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics.

Love and Unity: Part 2

Part 1 is here.

In order to understand better why love seeks union with the beloved, we first need to step back and consider what love is. I am not here addressing the theological virtue of charity. Grace builds upon and perfects nature, so to understand the theological virtue of charity, we must first understand natural love. Writing about the nature of love may not seem to have anything to do with the reunion of all Christians. But it serves as the philosophical background for the argument that if we truly love one another, then we will actively be seeking unity with each other, pursuing every attempt to be reconciled and reunited. Part of what it means to obey Christ's command to love one another, I will argue, is to seek unity with each other. If we say that we love each other, but are content with being divided, then we are deceiving ourselves. A week ago Pope Benedict said, "Is it indeed possible to be in communion with the Lord if we are not in communion with each other? How can we present ourselves divided and far from each other at God's altar?" Some of what I have written in this post is more philosophical in nature and terminology, so please bear with me.

Aquinas tells us that everything by its very nature has a natural aptitude or inclination toward its natural form, that is, its natural perfection. In things that do not have knowledge, this natural aptitude is called natural appetite (appetitus naturalis). (ST I Q.19 a.1 co.) Seedlings, for example, have a natural appetite for becoming full-grown trees, even though seedlings do not themselves have knowledge of this goal. The knowledge of their goal remains in their Designer, but the natural appetite for their goal is within the seedlings.

In addition to this natural appetite, animals and humans have something that plants do not have; we have the power to sense material things that are outside of us. Accompanying this power to sense material things is an additional appetitive power by which we can desire the things whose sensible forms we receive in our sense powers. In virtue of this appetitive power, animals and humans can desire the things that we sense insofar as we apprehend them as desirable, i.e. as suited to our natural perfection. (ST I Q.78 a.1 co.) This appetite is the sensitive appetite or "sensuality" (sensualitas). (ST I Q.81 a.1 co.)

Humans are distinguished from other animals in that we have a rational soul. This allows us to receive not just sensible forms, but also intelligible forms. In this way we are capable of understanding what a thing is, that is, its essence. But again, along with this greater power of apprehension is a greater corresponding appetitive power. This greater appetitive power is the "rational appetite", which is another term for the will. Aquinas describes this three-fold distinction in appetites in this way:

[A]ll things in their own way are inclined by appetite towards good, but in different ways. Some are inclined to good by their natural inclination, without knowledge, as plants and inanimate bodies. Such inclination towards good is called "a natural appetite." Others, again, are inclined towards good, but with some knowledge; not that they know the aspect of goodness [rationem boni], but that they apprehend some particular good; as in the sense, which knows the sweet, the white, and so on. The inclination which follows this apprehension is called "a sensitive appetite." Other things, again, have an inclination towards good, but with a knowledge whereby they perceive the aspect of goodness [boni rationem]; this belongs to the intellect. This is most perfectly inclined towards what is good; not, indeed, as if it were merely guided by another towards some particular good only, like things devoid of knowledge, nor towards some particular good only, as things which have only sensitive knowledge, but as inclined towards good in general[universale bonum]. Such inclination is termed "will." (ST I Q.59 a.1 co.)

Aquinas sums this up in his answer to the question of whether there is natural love in the angels. And here we see what appetite has to do with love. He writes:

But it is common to every nature to have some inclination; and this is its natural appetite or love. This inclination is found to exist differently in different natures; but in each according to its mode. Consequently, in the intellectual nature there is to be found a natural inclination coming from the will; in the sensitive nature, according to the sensitive appetite; but in a nature devoid of knowledge, only according to the tendency of the nature to something. (ST I Q.60 a.1 co.)

Notice that for Aquinas love is found in every existing thing. It is present in each thing as a natural inclination toward its good. For Aquinas, it is not the case that love is something had only by God, angels, and humans, and is devoid from non-rational animals, plants, and inanimate objects. For Aquinas, the primary movement of anything that moves, is love. But love is present in a thing according to the nature of the thing. In other words, things with lower natures love in only a limited way compared with things that by nature have greater apprehensive power. This correlation of love and knowledge is based on the principle from St. Augustine that nothing is loved except it be first known (nihil amatur nisi cognitum). (ST I Q.60 a.1 s.c.) Thus the greater a thing's natural capacity for knowing, the greater its natural capacity for loving.

This principle, quite importantly, also works the other way around: the more we love something, the more we are able to know it. We become more observant about it, more interested in every detail about it, more likely to retain it in our memory, and more intent on understanding it in its entirety and to its core. Where our heart is, there our mind operates. This is how someone like St. Thérèse de Lisieux, whose heart was bursting with love for God, and who never went to seminary or graduate school, and who died at the age of 24, could become a doctor of the Church.

So although love requires knowledge, knowledge is advanced by love. A being's capacity for love is dependent upon its appetitive capacity, which in turn is dependent on its capacity for knowing. Elsewhere Aquinas distinguishes these three appetitive powers in a similar manner. He writes:

Love is something pertaining to the appetite; since good is the object of both. Wherefore love differs according to the difference of appetites. (Unde secundum differentiam appetitus est differentia amoris.) For there is an appetite which arises from an apprehension existing, not in the subject of the appetite, but in some other: and this is called the "natural appetite." Because natural things seek what is suitable to them according to their nature, by reason of an apprehension which is not in them, but in the Author of their nature, as stated in the [ST I Q.6 a.1 ad 2; ST I Q.103 a.1 ad. 1,3]. And there is another appetite arising from an apprehension in the subject of the appetite, but from necessity and not from free-will. Such is, in irrational animals, the "sensitive appetite," which, however, in man, has a certain share of liberty, in so far as it obeys reason. Again, there is another appetite following freely from an apprehension in the subject of the appetite. And this is the rational or intellectual appetite, which is called the "will." (ST I-II Q.26 a.1 co.)

Aquinas then continues:

Now in each of these appetites, the name "love" is given to the principle movement towards the end loved (principium motus tendentis in finem amatum). In the natural appetite the principle of this movement is the appetitive subject's connaturalness with the thing to which it tends, and may be called "natural love": ... In like manner the aptitude (coaptatio) of the sensitive appetite or of the will to some good, that is to say, its very complacency (complacentia) in good is called "sensitive love," or "intellectual" or "rational love." So that sensitive love is in the sensitive appetite, just as intellectual love is in the intellectual appetite. (ST II-I Q.26 a.1 co.)

In each of the three appetitive powers, there is a principle movement towards the end loved, and this is love.

But first let us ask what Aquinas means by connaturalness, aptitude, and complacency? Connaturality shouldn't be understood as a relation of mathematical forms, devoid of teleology. For Aquinas says, "But the true is in some things wherein good is not, as, for instance, in mathematics." (ST I Q.16 a.4 s.c.) And yet connaturality is a principle of motion. But nothing moves except insofar as it moves toward a perceived good. Therefore connaturality should not be understood as the relation of abstract forms such as those of mathematics. Connaturality is a kind of sharing of the same nature, in some respect. Thus in the encounter of that which is connatural to oneself, self-love is extended outward to the other, and rests in the other as it already rests in the self. (More on that later.)

Regarding love as the principle movement toward the end loved, Aquinas says the same elsewhere when he says, "love is the first movement of the will and of every appetitive faculty" (Primus enim motus voluntatis, et cuiuslibet appetitivae virtutis, est amor.) (ST I Q.20 a.1 co.) In that same place he explains in more detail what he means in saying that love is the first movement of the will and of every appetitive faculty. He writes:

Now there are certain acts of the will and appetite that regard good under some special condition, as joy and delight regard good present and possessed; whereas desire and hope regard good not as yet possessed. Love, however, regards good universally, whether possessed or not. Hence love is naturally the first act of the will and appetite; for which reason all the other appetite movements presuppose love, as their root and origin. For nobody desires anything nor rejoices in anything, except as a good that is loved: nor is anything an object of hate except as opposed to the object of love. Similarly, it is clear that sorrow, and other things like to it, must be referred to love as to their first principle. Hence, in whomsoever there is will and appetite, there must also be love: since if the first is wanting, all that follows is also wanting. (ST I Q.20 a.1 co.)

Love then, for Aquinas, is the principle movement of the will and appetite, not in the sense of being temporally prior (even if it is temporally prior), but in the sense of being formally and teleologically prior. Every other movement of the will and appetite presupposes love, and therefore these other movements formally and teleologically depend on love.

We can see already, however vaguely, that love is unitive by its very nature. Since love is the first movement of the will and appetite toward the end loved, therefore love by its very nature aims at union of the appetitive subject (i.e. the one having the appetite) with the end loved. In the next post in this series, I intend to write about the distinction between the love of concupiscence and the love of friendship.

Babel or Keys?

'La Construction de la Tour de Babel'
Hendrick III van Cleve (1525 - 1589)
(click on the painting to view it full-sized)

Christ promised that the gates of hell would not prevail against the Church. But the very nature of the promise implies the presence of a war. The dragon "makes war" against the children of Christ's Mother, that is, those who "keep the commandments of God and hold to the testimony of Jesus." (Rev 12:17) So how does hell fight against Christ's Church? Of course there are external threats, such as persecution and the enticement of worldliness. But the more insidious attacks are internal; these are heresy and schism. Heresy and schism generally go together, because one without the other would be exposed for what it is. Only together can they hide each other. Satan hides himself in a certain respect, disguising himself as an angel of light. (2 Cor 11:14) That is his standard mode of operation. He once was Lucifer, the light bearer. So he portrays all his works as good and right and enlightened, as though they are the path of the truly wise, and especially suitable for making one wise. This is how he deceived Eve. This is how he deceived the people into choosing the murderer Barabbas [whose name means "son of the father"] over the innocent Son of God. And this is how he continues to deceive people into sinning against the Body of Christ, by leading them into heresy and schism.

But evil is always intrinsically self-destructive, because not only is evil a privation of good, but evil is also therefore a privation of unity and a privation of being. That is why evil is always parasitic on the good. Evil cannot exist on its own, but only in and in relation to what is good. For this very reason, the concepts of heresy and schism are not themselves sustainable within heresies and schisms. Within heresies and schisms these concepts collapse into the semantic equivalent of 'disagreement with my interpretation' and 'separation from me', respectively. All their objectivity and normativity is lost. Just as Satan succeeds when people no longer believe that he exists, so also he succeeds when the concepts of 'heresy' and 'schism' have been so evacuated that people no longer believe there really are such things.

The Church is supposed to be the voice of Christ to the world. Satan cannot defeat this voice, but through heresies and schisms he can drown it out in a sea of competing voices, each claiming to speak for Christ. In this way he creates confusion, not only in the world but even among Christians, for the effect is as if there is no authoritative voice of Christ, but merely a cacophony of opinions. Yet "God is not a God of confusion". (1 Cor 14:33) Christ did not leave His sheep without a shepherd. Nor did he intend that all who wish to determine who is the true shepherd first learn to read, let alone read and exegete Greek and Hebrew (as is testified to by the theological disunity among those who *do* read and exegete Greek and Hebrew).

The schisms that have weakened the unity and strength of our voice as Christians are in their effect like the curse of Babel that thwarted the builders of that tower. But the purpose of the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost is to reverse that division by means of a divine ingathering. This was the significance of the gift of tongues on the day of Pentecost, as described in Acts 2. (See the column of paintings on Neal Judisch's blog to get a better sense of the idea.) Babel was the tower of man, initiated by men and built up by men. It is the paradigmatic referent of Psalm 127:1, "Unless the LORD builds the house, its builders labor in vain". Nimrod is said to have been the initiator of the tower of Babel; in this way he is a figure of the Antichrist. In contrast to Babel, the Church is the tower that God is building, joining all peoples together into one Body in which we all speak the same divine language. (To read an early second century description of the Church as the tower that God is building, see Book 1 of the Shepherd of Hermas.) This is the Body of Christ, of which He is the founder and Head.

One way to respond to the common insouciance among Christians regarding our disunity is to show the disunity for what it is, as Dickens showed child labor for what it was. That is the sort of thing I was attempting to do recently here and here, in showing that the position of those Protestants who claim to believe in a visible Church is only *semantically* distinct from the position of those Protestants who deny that there is a visible Church. This highlights the absence of a middle position between Catholicism on the one hand, and that of those who deny that Christ founded a visible Church. The denial of a visible Church leaves each man to do what is right in his own eyes, for in that case there is no divinely-established voice of authority in the visible Church, because there is no visible Church. This position has difficulty making sense of St. Matthew 16 and St. Matthew 18, as I showed in the comments here.

Moreover, the ecclesiological position of those who deny that Christ founded a visible Church is intrinsically disposed to perpetual fragmentation and disharmony and weakness, for according to that position Christ did not establish a lasting hierarchy by which to preserve and guard the first mark of the Church: unity. But while Christ assured us that the Church will endure, He also tells us that a house divided cannot stand (St. Matt 12:25; St. Mark 3:25; St. Luke 11:17). Therefore, unity is an essential mark of the Church. Christ did not tell us to make a man-made peace that He would then preserve. He gave to His Apostles His peace, a peace that is not of this world. He left His peace with them. (St. John 14:27; Philippians 4:7) This is the divine peace and unity into which we must be incorporated. It is this divine peace and unity given by Christ to the Church that makes unity the first mark of the Church.

There are many Christians who recognize the need for greater unity among Christians. The moral decline in the broader culture makes such a need more and more obvious. And the recognition of this need for greater unity should be commended and encouraged, as should the efforts to effect it. But there are two fundamentally different types of ecumenicism. St. Thomas Aquinas tells us the goal of a thing shows us what it is, and the difference in goal distinguishes these two different types of ecumenicism. I'm not speaking here of the proximate goal of fostering dialogue and improving mutual understanding and social cooperation between Christians of various denominations and traditions. I'm speaking of the final goal.

I have written here about the way in which one form of ecumenicism unwittingly continues the work of Babel, by trying to create a new tower that Christ Himself did not found. It does this by seeking to establish a new institution and trying to get all Christians to be united to it. We see this mentality in organizations like the World Council of Churches, the National Council of Churches and the World Alliance of Reformed Churches. (For an example, see here.)

True ecumenicism does not lay a new foundation other than that which God has already laid, the incarnate Christ being the cornerstone, followed by the "apostles and prophets" (Eph 2:20), and their successors in the Church, which is "the pillar and foundation of the truth" (1 Tim 3:15). True ecumenicism is therefore necessarily by its very nature and final goal a searching for and reuniting with the Church that Christ founded. So long as some Christians conceive of the Church that Christ founded as the mere set of all believers, or as the set of all believers and their activities, or as a mere phenomenon, they will not perceive what the Church actually is, and how the Church is the pillar and foundation of the truth. Mere sets and mere phenomena have no authority, no actual unity, and thus no actual being. What has no being cannot be a foundation, let alone a foundation of the truth.

To defeat the divisive work of Satan, we first have to come to see schisms for what they are. This is part of what it means to expose the works of darkness. (Eph 5:11) We tear away the façade of light that keeps us from perceiving evil as evil. These schisms are "ruptures that wound the unity of Christ's Body" (CCC 817). If we love our own bodies, then how much more should we care for the wounds of Christ's Body? But we can go about seeking to heal these wounds in one of two ways. We can either take the keys to ourselves, which is the way of Babel (or more precisely, an endless series of Babels, each with its own self-appointed or de facto Nimrod), or we can seek out the Church that Christ founded, where He left His peace, seeking full communion with the one to whom He gave the keys.

'Christ Handing the Keys to St. Peter'
Pietro Perugino (1481-1482)