An Augustinian Moment

Augustine famously threw up his hands as he wondered why God would wish to resurrect the body.  His Platonist metaphysics denigrated the body, making Augustine accept on faith rather than reason that the resurrection of the flesh is a good thing.

I’m having an Augustinian moment regarding prayer.  I know we are supposed to pray for our daily bread, as it were; but why?  If Christ taught us anything, it was that salvation comes through following Him to His passion and death.  Why, then, do we pray to eliminate our suffering?  Rather, should we not pray for the strength to carry the crosses that we are given?

The obvious response seems to be that the Church has always acknowledged that prayer for strength in times of persecution is more valuable than prayers for material needs; i.e. that the Church agrees with my assessment.  But that’s only half of the answer.  Even if the former type of prayer is more praiseworthy, God still answers the prayers of those who ask for healing.  Give what Jesus taught, those healings seem counterproductive.  Why not answer those prayers with the grace to endure the suffering with dignity and holiness rather than granting a quick healing?

I guess this is more evidence that we will never have access to God’s plan from this side of heaven.

Learning Humility from Blogging

I’ve been told that the human mind has an amazing capacity to forget painful experiences.  Maybe that is why I cannot remember writing some of the posts on my blog from two years ago.

The Vincentian Canon and the Development of Doctrine

Over the years I have heard many Anglicans and Orthodox criticize the Catholic Church for teaching innovative doctrines not taught by the early Church.  In particular they will cite St. Vincent of Lerin’s words in his Commonitory that “we hold that faith which has been believed everywhere, always, and by all.” (Commonitory chapter 2, paragraph 6)  In other words the orthodox tradition has a claim to universality, antiquity, and consent that the heterodox traditions lack (I refer to this doctrine as the Vincentian Canon, or VC, throughout this paper).  These critics of the Catholic Church cite the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception or the Assumption of Mary as novelties not taught everywhere, always, and by all; thus the Catholic Church does not have a claim to be the true Church.

I want to demonstrate that these objections miss the point of St. Vincent’s argument.  I think we ought to take St. Vincent at face value and see him as writing for a man already in possession of the tradition (i.e. himself; see chapter 1.1) rather than for a man outside the tradition trying to determine which tradition is correct.  When I first read the Commonitory I was reading it like those Orthodox and Anglicans I mentioned earlier read it; the result, I found, was a point so poorly argued that I began to wonder a) if St. Vincent was a very poor thinker, or b) I had misunderstood what St. Vincent sought to demonstrate in the first place.  After reading his work as advice to those already in the Church rather than those hoping to find the true Church, the argument of the Commonitory made much more sense.  In this post, I assume for the sake of argument that St. Vincent really seeks to give criteria on how to discover the true Church.  In showing how bad his argument is when viewed in this way, I hope the reader begins to understand why this interpretation cannot make  sense of the text.   As I will show, the VC must first assume prior knowledge of the correct tradition as a standard by which to judge a particular doctrine as a ‘novelty of words’.  Any appeal to the VC as a means of determining which church is orthodox will inevitably end up begging the question against its rival traditions.

The first criterion for determining which tradition is correct is to find the tradition that is held universally, i.e. throughout the whole world (chapter 2.6).  If there are a few who hold a different teaching, St. Vincent appeals to the General Councils to determine what the ancient faith is:  “But what, if in antiquity itself there be found error on the part of two or three men, or at any rate of a city or even a province?  Then it will be his care by all means, to prefer the decrees, if such there be, of an ancient General Council to the rashness and ignorance of a few.” (Commonitory 3.8)  Does Vincent of Lerins judge General Councils to be orthodox because they conform to what has been held “everywhere, always, and by all,” or does he determine what has been held “everywhere, always, and by all” by an appeal to the General Councils?  The latter seems to conform to the text, as the quotation cited above indicates.  But from where do the General Councils derive their authority?   St. Vincent cannot answer that a General Council is authoritative if it conforms to the preceding tradition held “everywhere, always, and by all” because such a move would make his reasoning circular.

In fact, St. Vincent never addresses how the man of simple faith is to determine which Councils are orthodox and which are not.  In chapter 31.79 he gives an example of a council that conforms with the Tradition (i.e. the Council of Ephesus); but to say that a council is orthodox is not to explain why a council is orthodox.  The early years of the Church saw many councils, many of which dissented from those traditions which St. Vincent calls orthodox in the Commonitory.  These councils were attended by a great number of bishops who ultimately taught doctrines contrary to the teachings laid forth in the VC.

Although St. Vincent never addresses how we are to determine which councils are orthodox, perhaps his second criterion may help.  The second criterion for determining which tradition is orthodox is to determine whether the doctrine taught conforms to the faith of antiquity.   We can distinguish orthodox councils from heterodox councils by seeing which councils contain some novelty of words that was not previously contained in the deposit of faith.  In order to determine which councils are orthodox and which aren’t, we ought to refer to Scripture or the teachings of the Apostles, whose faith was guaranteed to be pristine.

St. Vincent makes this very move in chapter 28.71 to determine the means by which the true believer can detect and condemn the novelties of Heretics.  Against new heresies, he argues, it is enough to investigate the ancient consent of the holy Fathers to determine what is true doctrine.  In the case of long-standing heresies, however, ought not to be dealt with in this way; rather, we should appeal to “the sole authority of Scripture”, or “to shun them as having been already of old convicted and condemned by universal councils of the Catholic Priesthood.”

Now obviously the second criterion cannot be used to establish the authority of a council without begging the question; what about the first way, by appeals to Scripture?  Here St. Vincent seems to contradict himself.  In chapter 2.5 St. Vincent argues that Scripture—although sufficient in every way—requires the Church’s interpretation.  For, “owing to the depth of Holy Scripture, all do not accept it in one and the same sense, but one understands its words in one way, another in another; so that it seems to be capable of as many interpretations as there are interpreters.”  Furthermore, when arguing for the necessity of the ancient Tradition for the interpretation of Scripture, St. Vincent notes the variety of interpretations of Scripture:  Novatian interprets it one way, Sabellius in another way, etc.  Later on, he complains that the heretics are very good at using Scripture to support their own novelties.  Thus, an appeal to Scripture in order to determine which doctrines are heresies assumes that one is already in possession of the tradition of the Church in the first place.

The VC faces other difficulties.  In chapter 23.54-59 St. Vincent argues that there is such thing as a genuine development of religious knowledge.  Such knowledge cannot be contrary to or in addition to the knowledge that was taught by the Father’s of the Church.  Real progress is not an alteration of the faith, but an adornment of it.  It is the job of brilliant minds to fashion and polish, consolidate and strengthen those ancient doctrines that antiquity had left shapeless and rudimentary (23.59), not to mutilate it with an addition, subtraction, or mutation.  A true development designates an old article of faith by a new name.  In this way we are able to move from that which was believed in simplicity to that which is believed intelligently.

St. Vincent contrasts truly developed religious knowledge to what 1 Timothy 6:20 terms “novelties of words.”  But how does a sincere seeker of the truth determine what is real development and what is not?  The sincere seeker of truth by definition does not have, but seeks to obtain, the orthodox tradition.  But how does he go about doing this?  He does not have the luxury of the ancient Tradition to aid him in his reading of Scripture in determining which tradition is the correct one.  Nor can he decide which councils possess authority and which do not.  Thus, what the Arians would call sound doctrine is a novelty to the Nicaean Fathers, and what is sound doctrine to the Nicaean Fathers is accused of being a novelty by the Arians.  The only way of accurately labeling one of these sets of teachings as novel or sound doctrine is to have knowledge of what the correct tradition is in the first place.

Taking all of these considerations into account, I conclude that the VC has little value in helping an outsider determine which church is possession of right doctrine.  In order for the VC to be of any use in the first place, the reader must first assume that he already is in possession of the orthodox Tradition.  There is no non-question begging way to use the VC to separate true doctrine from long-standing false doctrine.  None of the criteria—what is believed everywhere, always, and by all—can be used in a non-question begging way to determine what is true and what is novel.

Thus, the VC cannot be used in a non-question begging way to demonstrate that the Catholic Church’s doctrines of the Immaculate Conception and the Assumption of Mary are noveldoctrines.  The Catholic believer without inconsistency can claim that these doctrines are truly developed religious knowledge, developed from premises contained in but not developed adequately by the preceding Tradition.  Far from being “novelties in word”, these doctrines are legitimate developments of religious knowledge.  The means of distinguishing the orthodox tradition from its heterodox opponents must be a means other than the VC.

Edit:  I did a major overhaul on the introduction to this post.  I struggled and struggled, and finally said want I want to say.  I also added a link to the Commonitory in the first paragraph.

Love Your Enemies

Christ commands us to love our enemies.  But if an enemy is someone that we hate or do not like, can we love those that we hate?  Clearly the answer is no.  Then what does Christ mean here?  I answer that ‘enemy’ must be construed as a one-way relationship, not a two way relationship:  an enemy is someone who wishes harm to us; we do not have to wish ill-will toward our enemies for them to be our enemies.

My little analysis of the word ‘enemy’ is deceptively simple.  I heard these words, “Love your enemy” for years before taking the time to critically reflect on what ‘enemy’ meant.  However, upon examination the meaning of the word is clear.   I have no data to back this point up, but I think many people are unreflective enough about how they use the word that they may unconsciously understand the hatred-relationship as being two-way unless the meaning of the word is brought to their attention (as I did for many years).  It wouldn’t be the first time that speakers use words without reflecting on what they mean.

Aristotelian Justification of the State

A problem that has bugged me is how we justify judging the government by seemingly different moral standards than we judge individuals.  Why do we give the state the authority to kill people, take our money, etc under certain circumstances when we would never allow private citizens that authority?  How do we justify the existence of the state, i.e. demonstrate such authority to be just?

Aristotle calls man a political animal; thus, the laws established by the polis are necessary for fulfilling man’s nature.  If there is no polis, man cannot fulfill his nature.  But interestingly, Aristotle also says that the polis is necessary because it is a necessary condition for the formation of virtue in citizens.  Without the community/polis, man would not have a context in which to act well or badly.  If someone is disrupting the order and peace of the polis, they are disrupting other citizens’ chance at flourishing.  The coercive power of the polis, therefore, is justifable if it aims at the common good.  It is okay to kill a violent individual for the sake of the common good, or kill the citizens of another state in defense of one’s own polis.

Note that Aristotle’s argument depends on placing the common good (which differs, by the way, from the collective good) above the good of any particular citizen.  The common good at the private goods are not incommensurable.  Why is the common good more important?  Because it is a sine qua non for the flourishing of the private citizen:  without the preservation of the common good, there can be no context for flourishing, and thus no good of the private citizen.

Another observation:  note how this line of argumentation justifies a certain amount of patriotism in one’s state.  Many modern liberals frown on patriotism in part because it seems to justify a degree of elitism and hostility of one nation towards another.  Under Aristotle’s reasoning, however, a certain degree of patriotism is justifiable because one’s state provides the context in which one can flourish.  While other states might *possibly* provide that same context, they currently are not.  Thus, we have an obligation to respect our nation and love it for the goods it provides us.

Does Pleasure Bring Happiness?

Thomas categorically says that it does not.  But there is more to the story than this one article.  Consider the following:

“As is evident from what has been said above (Question 23, Article 4), pleasure is a kind of repose of the appetite in a suitable good; while sorrow arises from something unsuited to the appetite. Consequently in movements of theappetite pleasure is to sorrow, what, in bodies, repose is to weariness, which is due to a non-natural transmutation; for sorrow itself implies a certain weariness or ailing of the appetitive faculty. Therefore just as all repose of the body brings relief to any kind of weariness, ensuing from any non-natural cause; so every pleasure brings relief by assuaging any kind of sorrow, due to any cause whatever.” (ST I-II:  q. 38 a.1)

Thomas is arguing that every pleasure is capable of assuaging sorrow.  Sorrow arises because the appetite is unfulfilled (or perhaps receives something contrary to one’s appetite).  Since pleasure arises when an appetite is fulfilled, all pleasure helps stave off sorrow.

Several interesting consequences follow.  First, the tidy summary:  although pleasure cannot bring us happiness, it brings a lack of sorrow.  The value of pleasure, then, is negative, not positive.  It does not bring us happiness, but it combats unhappiness.

Also, this passage implies an interesting account of why the pursuit of pleasure (rather than the obtainment of pleasure) leads to unhappiness.  Because pleasure-seekers wish to fulfill rather than master their desires, those who fail to achieve pleasure will find sorrow; those who do obtain pleasure merely “break even”, as it were, in the pursuit of happiness.  But whether or not he succeeds, the pleasure-seeker is setting himself up for more frequent occasions for sorrow because his desires are more numerous than the man who seeks to master his desires.

A Suggestion for Spiritual Health

A while back while watching one of the tennis Majors, the commentators explained what Venus Williams was reading in between games.  She had made a list of her tendencies as a tennis player; thus, when she made a lot of back hand errors she would look at her list to remind herself of the ways in which her mechanics tended to break down.  Thus, she even if she wasn’t doing well she knew what she needed to do to improve.  Venus Williams is a wise person:  she realizes that it’s often difficult to keep in mind all of her flaws at once.  Even when practicing every day, small errors sneak in that can throw off one’s entire game.

Perhaps Venus Williams insight into tennis can be translated into the spiritual life.  Often our vices can become so deep-seated that we cease to recognize them in ourselves.  Thus I propose making one’s own personal examination of conscience; don’t just use the stock-examens provided in the back of church, but make a list of all of the ways in which you usually tend to fail.  Not only does this make one’s confession more complete, but if this examen is used every day it prevents those flaws from becoming buried and forgotten.

In order to compile the list, I recommend reading Archbishop Dolan’s Priests for the Third Millenium.  Don’t be fooled by the name; it’s a wonderful book for laymen, too.  The book is a collection of lectures on the virtues, and Dolan does not pull his punches.

Interesting Article on Catholic Marriage

I just read an interesting article that claims that divorce among faithful Catholics is just as common as divorce among the general population.  While some may be shocked, I can’t say that I am.   Back when I first entered seminary, I naively thought that Catholic seminary was a place where the cream of the crop gathered.  Seminary was an ideal community of holy men, I thought.  My idealism has since been shattered, not just because I’ve witnessed imperfections in others, but because I see so many imperfections in myself.

If orthodox, prayerful seminaries are wrought with difficulties, how much moreso will the Catholic marriage be difficult!  Marriage is a permanent thing, whereas seminary is temporary.  Furthermore, many seminarians can get through seminary bitter without ever having someone correct them; in marriage, one cannot get bitter with one’s situation without severely hurting the marriage.

Anyway, it was an interesting article.  It’s recommended reading.

The Suffering Man

I discussed prayer with a group of high schoolers today.  It was a good discussion, but at one point I wished to bring up a point but deemed it too “advanced” to be discussed at that moment.  I wish to record it here.

I learned this semester that it is possible to make the very act of suffering a prayer.  This semester I had more trouble making time for prayer than any other time since I entered seminary, but the graces flowed more readily than ever.  I’d say the only way to explain this is to acknowledge that suffering itself can be a form of prayer, of uniting ourselves to God.  It is also the case, however, that some people suffer and become bitter.  What distinguishes those who become bitter from those who become holy through suffering?

It’s odd that God uses suffering to improve us.  Why didn’t God choose pleasure to produce saints rather than suffering?  Why did God choose silence and obsurity as the vehicle for his voice rather than the sounds of a busy city?  Why did God choose evil and the Cross rather than comfort and leisure to be the precursor to the Resurrection?  I don’t know the answers to these questions; all I know is that I have found Christ to be most present to me in silence, suffering, and the Cross.  We may never understand why God chooses to reveal himself in the ways that he does, but the key to making one’s suffering a prayer is simply to acknowledge that God is infinitely wiser than us, and that he wishes for us to find him in the midst of tribulation.  When we accept our crosses with such faith and hope that the way of the Cross ultimately ends in Resurrection our lives truly become a prayer.  Thus, the keys to making one’s suffering a prayer are the theological virtues.

A Passing Thought

Jesus told us to love our enemies and to pray for those who persecute us.  He forgave those who were persecuting him as he was dying on the cross.  But should we stop there?  As Christ was dying on the cross, he not only forgave his persecutors, but he also was offering expiation for their sins on their behalf.   Christ did not just pray for his persecutors, but he also conquered their death and loved at least some of them into heaven.

We cannot redeem like Christ can, but we can still, as St. Paul writes, make up for what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ by bearing our sufferings patiently.  We can offer Christ’s body and blood on their behalf when we receive him in the Eucharist.

If I received one grace out of this semester, it is this.  Towards the end of the semester, I had an imagining about someone who hates me reaching heaven and having Christ ask them to account for his or her sins (for short, we’ll use ‘his’).  Jesus lists his sins against me, for which the individual is sorry.  Jesus then says to him, “normally sins of this sort require a fair amount of time in purgatory to pay your debt for these sins; but that debt was already paid for you:  Paul has already paid your debt for you.”

I have thus taken up the devotion of offering sacrifice and penance for those who hate me.  My hope is to love my persecutors into heaven even as their actions against me speak to condemn them.  I hope to remove the last traces of bitterness from my soul.  I hope to love my enemies so much that Christ has no choice but to overlook my other faults on my judgment day.