Recently I had the pleasure of coming across an article entitled “Christ’s Test of our Orthodoxy” on Ordained Servant, a Journal published by the Orthodox Presbyterian Church. I was a member of this denomination for six years, and the title immediately caught my attention. Pastor Jack W. Sawyer’s article can be read here.

So many times on Called to Communion we have rightly spoken to the areas in which we differ from our Reformed Brethren, from which we have in a sacramental sense have broken the ties which have bound us. The issues that divide us are important, that is true. But in so many ways, as former Reformed Christians who have become Catholics, we acknowledge the light and goodness, the beauty and truth, that is found within the Reformed Protestant circles from which we left. And so with the spirit of thankfulness for what we still hold in common with Reformed Believers, I want to focus on Pastor Sawyer’s article on Christ’s Test of our Orthodoxy.

He introduces his position on what Christ’s test for our Orthodoxy is by discussing what may be obvious tests of orthodoxy, but moves to the words of Our Lord Himself. In what is not too surprising for those who know the texts of the Gospels in our heads, he moves to a point which may be surprising to our experience in our own hearts. By discussing the words of Christ which speak of people knowing we are His disciples by our love for one another, he makes this comment:

Here Jesus declares that observable love between believers is to be the hallmark of the Christian community. It is to be considered the definitive mark of genuine Christianity, a certifying badge of discipleship. When outsiders observe a Christian community, according to Jesus, they are to see a beautiful, Christ-like love evidenced in the various relationships. Thus, as they observe the Christian community’s marriages, families, friendships, or gatherings, this signature mark is to stand out as the prominent atmosphere of all the relational exchanges.

After stating the hallmark of Christian life and community, Pastor Sawyer moves to his conclusion in the article with some words of practical advice. How do we reflect the heart of Christ in a world of fractured Christians? His suggestions are insightful, and in my estimation, reflect the heart of a God who holds Love to be preeminent, of a God who is Love Himself.

Similarly, I wonder what might become of a session’s ministry if it maintained a deliberate record of, at least, remaining sincerely concerned and cordial to the most challenging people that leave its church? What if these elders saw every such circumstance as a providential opportunity to demonstrate Christ-like, cross-like love toward such sheep? What if this session firmly held its doctrinal convictions—amid all such encounters—yet it also determined that agreeing to disagree, wisely and lovingly, was also just as central a matter of Christian orthodoxy?

When I read these words I could not help but think of my own life in leaving the OPC for the PCA, which was a story in itself, and the even more “dramatic” change of growing into full communion with the Catholic Church. There have been instances, as he points out, where those who have left the Presbyterian world of the OPC for other places, the Catholic Church not being the only destination. I do not want to rehash words that have been said to me and other former Calvinists, for they bring up painful moments. And truly, there have been and there will be cases of Catholics who have not continued to love those who have left the fold of the Catholic Church for Reformed Christianity and other places. There have been instances where calls for faithfulness verge on not following Our Lord’s words to forgive even seventy times seven in a day. And clearly relativism is not the solution. But the point is that Pastor Sawyer and others are making strong calls to keep loving one another after differences have been shared, to keep reaching out, even when roads diverge into different Christian communions. How can we learn from these mistakes of a lack of love for our former homes? How can we not cease to make a Call to Communion? He concludes with these words, which speak so well for themselves. As I read those words, I used them for my own spiritual reflection on my spiritual health. It reminded me of how much I am still thankful to God for my time as a Presbyterian, because the words that he wrote ring true in my ears, even to this very day.

In conclusion, all of us are remembered for something, and leaving spiritual legacy is something we do—whether good or bad, whether we like it or not. Is your orthodoxy of community as pure as your orthodoxy of doctrine? What are you currently well known for, and what do you want to be remembered for in the future? What is your church currently well known for, and what do you want it to be noted for in the future? Jesus’s will is crystal clear: “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Amen, Pastor Sawyer. Amen.

Between Good Friday and Pascha (Easter), there is a beautiful commemoration of the death of Christ with a woven image of Christ’s burial that rests on a “tomb” that reminds the faithful of what our Gracious Lord endured for our sake.

When I first saw my son serving as an altar boy on Holy Saturday, I was shocked by a simple procession that my priest and spiritual father made on that fateful day. He placed the shroud over his head and held it in his hands as he walked through those holy doors. As he got close to the holy doors, I noticed that his hands were full, because he was holding the burial shroud. I saw my young son and hoped he would grab the door to open it for our priest. To my dismay, he wasn’t moving towards the doors. Instead, I was shocked to see our priest come up to the door and knock the doors open with a swift jerk of his head. He had headbutted the holy doors open!

Was this a mistake because of my sluggish son? I learned this was definitely not the case. Instead, the celebration of the Resurrection of Christ led to an opening of the Holy Doors. As violent as it seemed, my priest was not opening the doors with his head because of anger, but because of the conquering victory of Christ, who is risen from the dead. From Pascha (Easter) Sunday through Bright Saturday, the doors that symbolize the division between the heavenly kingdom and earth are left open, because Christ opened the division through his death and resurrection.

The idea that Tradition leads to a division between the people of God and our Lord is therefore a gross oversimplification of what we believe and practice.

It emphasizes that despite our regard for holiness and the like, we acknowledge that the saving work of Christ has led to a breaking down of those barrier walls. Everything that keeps us from holiness and divinization has been accomplished through the cross.

May this year’s bright week lead to a breaking down of the barriers that keep us from His Love, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

When someone who is considering the Apostolic Faith with a critical stance hears about certain litanies and prayers to the Mother of God, the angels, or the saints, there is so much that can be isolated and examined with microscopic precision. And if one does not see the forest for the trees, that analysis can be blinding, for one will come to conclusions that one would not have when one possesses a fuller sense of Tradition.

One can open one’s ears to prayers that echo in Apostolic Churches, and hear words such as the following:

“O Most Holy Theotokos, Save Us!”

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, Pray for Us Sinners, now and at the Hour of Our Death. Amen.”

These examples, taken from both Eastern and Western prayers, respectively, emphasize the holiness of the Blessed Virgin in a way that can make one think that she is being praised as though she were God Himself. This emphasis on Holiness has been used to make charges that God’s unique role as the fountain of all Holiness is erased by such prayers.

I thought on this one morning while at the Divine Liturgy. There is a section during our preparation for receiving the Divine Eucharist that resonated with this idea of missing the forest for the trees. For as I put my critical thinking cap on (which I should not do during such intimate moments, but old habits die hard), I heard familiar words as they might sound to my own former lex orandi, lex credendi, which was in keeping with the Westminster Standards. What did I hear from the mouth of my spiritual father?

“Let us be attentive! Holy Gifts to Holy People!”

The priest stood before the altar, holding the precious body and blood of Christ, and we were told that we were, as Holy Ones, to receive, Holy Things.

There was all of the proof that one might need to convict the Catholic of his idolatry towards the sacraments, or so the critique would run.

And oddly, I was participating with a tad bit too much of an appropriation of this critical mentality, for as I sang the response which I know by heart, these words left my heart and were proclaimed:

“One is Holy, One is Lord, Jesus Christ, to the Glory of God the Father, Amen!”

It struck me in an ironic twist, that I could see these isolated words coming out as though the congregation (myself included) was issuing a rebuke to our priest. It would run something like this-“Wait a minute, you want to call the Eucharist a holy gift that is offered to God? And us, we’re more than just declared to be holy, but we are actually and substantially holy? No, only God is holy!”

So what is the significance of this interaction where the celebrant proclaims that there are holy gifts for holy people, and the congregation replies by stating that only one is holy, and that it is Jesus Christ? It obviously speaks beyond an either/or dichotomy. But it goes further than emphasizing that things are more complex than a surface consideration. The dialogue between celebrant and congregation prepares us to understand that the holiness on earth is really present, but that holiness is always and without exception intimately linked to Him who alone is Holy, who is everywhere present and filling all things, the treasury of blessings and giver of life. Indeed, every good and perfect gift comes down from above. And what do we have that we have not received? We therefore understand “who alone is Holy” as meaning that God is the only ultimate source of holiness, not as meaning that no one else is holy. We can lavish high praise onto those vessels of holiness without idolatry, for we see the mystery of union with God, and He is present in those who are united to Him.

And so it is only when one isolates and rips out prayers like the Hail Mary to subject them to an out of context analysis, that such appeals to her Holiness or her ability to mediate or to save or what have you can seem to conflict with who God is as the only Lord. It is only when foundational prayers that comprise the lex orandi like the Divine Liturgy of Saint John Chrysostom are pitted against our veneration of the saints that our lex credendi can be called into question as idolatrous.

To close this brief reflection, I would make this sincere request-as you seek to dialogue with those who are Catholics or Orthodox, keep the forest in mind. Don’t read one prayer, read a rule of prayer. If you do that, you will come to see our lex orandi, lex credendi in a more accurate light.

Holy Martyr Theodore, Pray to God for Us!

It’s true that what we offer to the saints and the Mother of God sounds like worship to the ears of a Protestants, and it may be good for us to just admit that that is exactly how our prayers and songs sound. What we say in these prayers sounds more flowery than what many Protestants ever say about God Himself. In that sense, we should admit that what we pray to the Mother of God is “worship”, from the Protestant perspective of the depth of praise that can be offered to anyone, God included. But in isolating our prayers to angels and saints, they have not considered what we think about actual our worship of God Himself. If they realized the depth of the splendor that we pour forth in our worship to God, they would not think that our prayers to the Mother of God were idolatrous.

It’s an interesting perspective-to say that our prayers and worship to God are so much more self-emptying that when you consider our prayers to saints, you will never consider those prayers to be idolatrous. It’s a completely different view of praise and worship.

And I think that a clear distinction between this view of our life of worship comes from the saint whose memory we commemorate today on the Byzantine Calendar. St. John Chrysostom, that great bishop who composed our chief liturgy as Byzantine Christians by modifying the other chief Byzantine liturgy of St. Basil, wrote about the priesthood. In fact, when his commemoration was celebrated on the Latin calendar Bryan Cross posted here on this same holy man, with reflections coming from his own perspective. I commend it to you as well, and you can read it here.

What I’d like to bring to your attention in this current reflection is the following: his description of the priesthood describes our praise of God in a manner that takes the typical Protestant view of the priesthood and Hebrews, making it seem as though it were turned upside down. Many Protestants read this epistle as a rebuke to converts from Judaism who long for the beauty of the Jewish temple, as though that were a proof that Christian worship should be lacking such beauty. The regulative principle of worship which is advocated in most Presbyterian circles is a key example of taking this principle to extremes, but I think it can be found everywhere (and for what it’s worth, I’d call the “RPW” a very consistent exercise of Presbyterian principles, but I digress) in Protestantism. Instead of thinking that the pomp and glory of the Jewish liturgy fades on earth to usher in the Christian life of prayer in a world of no art or majesty, St. John Chrysostom sees the Old Testament temple prayer life as a shadow of the glory and splendor awaiting the earthly prayer life of the Church. He writes:

4. For the priestly office is indeed discharged on earth, but it ranks among heavenly ordinances; and very naturally so: for neither man, nor angel, nor archangel, nor any other created power, but the Paraclete Himself, instituted this vocation, and persuaded men while still abiding in the flesh to represent the ministry of angels. Wherefore the consecrated priest ought to be as pure as if he were standing in the heavens themselves in the midst of those powers. Fearful, indeed, and of most awful import, were the things which were used before the dispensation of grace, as the bells, the pomegranates, the stones on the breastplate and on the ephod, the girdle, the mitre, the long robe, the plate of gold, the holy of holies, the deep silence within. But if any one should examine the things which belong to the dispensation of grace, he will find that, small as they are, yet are they fearful and full of awe, and that what was spoken concerning the law is true in this case also, that “what has been made glorious has no glory in this respect by reason of the glory which excels.” 2 Corinthians 3:10 For when you see the Lord sacrificed, and laid upon the altar, and the priest standing and praying over the victim, and all the worshippers empurpled with that precious blood, can you then think that you are still among men, and standing upon the earth? Are you not, on the contrary, straightway translated to Heaven, and casting out every carnal thought from the soul, do you not with disembodied spirit and pure reason contemplate the things which are in Heaven? Oh! What a marvel! What love of God to man! He who sits on high with the Father is at that hour held in the hands of all, and gives Himself to those who are willing to embrace and grasp Him. And this all do through the eyes of faith! Do these things seem to you fit to be despised, or such as to make it possible for any one to be uplifted against them?

Would you also learn from another miracle the exceeding sanctity of this office? Picture Elijah and the vast multitude standing around him, and the sacrifice laid upon the altar of stones, and all the rest of the people hushed into a deep silence while the prophet alone offers up prayer: then the sudden rush of fire from Heaven upon the sacrifice:— these are marvellous things, charged with terror. Now then pass from this scene to the rites which are celebrated in the present day; they are not only marvellous to behold, but transcendent in terror. There stands the priest, not bringing down fire from Heaven, but the Holy Spirit: and he makes prolonged supplication, not that some flame sent down from on high may consume the offerings, but that grace descending on the sacrifice may thereby enlighten the souls of all, and render them more refulgent than silver purified by fire. Who can despise this most awful mystery, unless he is stark mad and senseless? Or do you not know that no human soul could have endured that fire in the sacrifice, but all would have been utterly consumed, had not the assistance of God’s grace been great.

Our golden-mouthed saint views the offerings of prayers to God at a Church service as something so cosmically different from my Reformed and Evangelical past, that I am reminded of the emissaries of the great Prince Vladimir of Kiev. The ones who visited the Christians worshipping at the Hagia Sophia in Constantinople said:

‘We knew not whether we were in heaven or on earth, for surely there is no such splendour or beauty anywhere upon earth. We cannot describe it to you: only this we know, that God dwells there among men, and that their service surpasses the worship of all other places. For we cannot forget that beauty.’

Instead of making the worship of God more “heavenly” in the sense that it is disconnected from earth by “earthly trappings”, the Traditional view of liturgy is open to the very earth itself becoming heaven through God’s presence on earth, especially through the Holy Eucharist. It is open to a depth of splendor on earth where we can call the kingdom of God blessed here and now (and always unto ages of ages, Amen!).

So I wonder, on this feast of St. John Chrysostom, if any Reformed brethren of mine sense the emptiness of their services, in terms of how they call upon God. Feeling such a vacuum where my whole body, mind and soul was engaged in prayer and adoration to God during a liturgy was one of the strongest attractions to Tradition that I felt as I considered the claims of Catholics, and at times I think it is more powerful than the most pithy intellectual reflection found in a book or blog posting here or elsewhere.

As this video sings in a hymn to St. John Chrysostom, so I close this brief post, making it my prayer for us all.

Grace shining forth from your lips like a beacon has enlightened the universe! It has shown to the world the riches of poverty. It has revealed to us the heights of humility. Teaching us by your words, Father John Chrysostom, intercede before the Word, Christ our God, to save our souls!

As one well-known revert to the Catholic Church, Francis Beckwith, put it:

“My own return to the Catholic Church would have not been possible if not for the overwhelming evidence that the Church Fathers embraced without reservation—and in fact, often assumed as uncontroversial—those doctrines that presently divide Catholics from Protestants. This website—churchfathers.org—is a wonderful resource for Catholics, Protestants, as well as Orthodox believers.  Whether you are Protestant, Catholic, or Orthodox, your spiritual paternity is older than either the 16th, 13th, or 11th century. We have, as they say, a common ancestry. This website will help you to better understand the ancient roots of your faith and what our predecessors—those that formed our theology at Nicaea, Chalcedon, and Orange—believed about a variety of practices and doctrines over which we are divided today.” — Francis J. Beckwith, Professor of Philosophy and Church-State Studies, Baylor University. Author of Return to Rome: Confessions of An Evangelical Catholic (Brazos Press, 2009)

We here at Called to Communion hope that you take the time to consider the writings of Fathers of the Church, and we consider this website to be one tool that is a very helpful introduction to the Fathers. The website has poignant points on key issues that divide Christians, with references set in chronological order. There is much of what they write that may seem foreign, especially if you are (like we once were) coming from the Protestant viewpoint. But it is worth standing on the shoulders of giants. And it is worth being deep in history.

Becoming Reformed after a six year sojourn in the evangelical world of Calvary Chapel, I was pleased to give up speculations about the end of the world via the notion of an imminent Rapture. There was a lack of historical support for thinking this way, and there was also a pleasing emphasis on Scripture as opposed to the newspaper. But every once in awhile, I must admit that the pure joy of thinking about the coming of God Himself to earth seemed to be too distant for someone like me to continue to enjoy. Was there any place for a continued hope of God coming to earth? Or was all of that joy based on predictions that so often never came to pass?

It was an amazing truth to appreciate that in the Catholic view of things, the eternal kingdom of God became present, and not through some theocracy of sorts. It was a far more mystical vision of God becoming present through our liturgy. The rapture was not distant–it was a real experience that comes through the Eucharist.

Being an Eastern Catholic, our liturgy enters into the mystery of the Eucharistic sacrifice with many beautiful prayers. The main liturgical service that we celebrate is the divine liturgy of St. John Chrysostom. There are so many thoughts that I have about this service, and I hope to spend future posts considering how our liturgy informs all of our theology. Truly the law of prayer provides the law of belief (lex orandi, lex credendi).

As we listen to the words of an Eastern Christian service, we hear these words that juxtapose the past, present and future all into one, for the presence of God puts us into contact with eternity Himself.

In that liturgy of St. John Chrysostom, we hear these words:

Priest:
Together with these blessed powers, merciful Master, we also proclaim and say: You are holy and most holy, You and Your only begotten Son and Your Holy Spirit. You are holy and most holy, and sublime is Your glory. You so loved Your world that You gave Your only begotten Son so that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have eternal life. He came and fulfilled the divine plan for us. On the night when He was delivered up, or rather when He gave Himself up for the life of the world, He took bread in His holy, pure, and blameless hands, gave thanks, blessed, sanctified, broke and gave it to His holy disciples and apostles, saying:
Take, eat, this is my Body which is broken for you for the forgiveness of sins.

People:
Amen.

Priest:
Likewise, after supper, He took the cup, saying:Drink of it all of you; this is my Blood of the new Covenant which is shed for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins.

People:
Amen.

Priest:
Remembering, therefore, this command of the Savior, and all that came to pass for our sake, the cross, the tomb, the resurrection on the third day, the ascension into heaven, the enthronement at the right hand of the Father, and the second, glorious coming,

We offer to You these gifts from Your own gifts in all and for all.

This is the faith that we profess. It enters the eternal world where there is a sense in which the second coming is not a future event, for all things are present to Him who is beyond time. And this is not a particularly Eastern thought, with no parallels in the Roman Rite. Let’s look at a Roman Canon (canon I, to be precise), for if we do we will hear similar words speaking the same truth which transcends time. After the same consecration and recitation of the words of Institution of Christ, we hear this prayer at the Holy Roman Mass:

Father, we celebrate the memory of Christ, your Son. We, your people and your ministers, recall his passion, his resurrection from the dead, and his ascension into glory; and from the many gifts you have given us we offer to you, God of glory and majesty, this holy and perfect sacrifice: the bread of life and the cup of eternal salvation.
Look with favor on these offerings and accept them as once you accepted the gifts of your servant Abel, the sacrifice of Abraham, our fathers in faith, and the bread and wine offered by your priest Melchizedek.
Almighty God, we pray that your angel may take this sacrifice to your altar in heaven. Then, as we receive from this altar the sacred body and blood of your Son, let us be filled with every grace and blessing. Through Christ Our Lord, Amen.

This is our profession of what happens in a Church service. It goes beyond intellectual proclamations of faith, which we see as most clearly expressed in things like the Creed. It leaves this miry world of sin and calls us to the heavenly kingdom. It is a Rapture, a seizing up of our earthly life to the real spiritual existence which is our inheritance, in Christ.

This is of critical importance, for many people have chided Churches for having luxurious vestments and buildings. “I thought that we were supposed to lay up our treasures in heaven!”, or so the objection would roughly run. That objection only makes sense, however, if what we think we are doing is something this-worldly. If all we are doing is singing a feel good song and listening to a spiritual lecture of sorts, of course we ought not give our best for what we wear, and the room that we inhabit, and the chalice and paten/diskos that holds the wine and bread that go to the altar for a mere remembrance. But if there is something far deeper, something otherworldly to our worship, we will reach out and give our everything to strive to enter into that Sabbath rest, as the epistle to the Hebrews puts it. We will be raptured from day to day existence into another kingdom.

And so, as Christians of an ancient faith, there is a deep sense in which we are caught up into heaven already, while we remain in the world of not yet. We enter into that spiritual kingdom via a rapture that is not the end of a Church age, but is the continuation of a transcendent reality that can make a poor sinner like me united to the God of the universe, through His blessed kingdom.

Blessed is the Kingdom of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, always ever and forever, Amen.

This paradoxical statement is not for shock purposes-it is wholly and entirely true. As one who is in communion with Rome via an Eastern Catholic Church, I find this to be an inevitable conclusion. Because my home parish has its origins in the Slavic people who lived around the Carpathian mountains, I appreciate the beauty of the East, for it is a beauty that I share in my daily prayer life on a personal level and at a Church level. A good portion of those who worship at my parish are ethnically descendants of the Orthodox who regained communion with Rome. This came after excommunications and ill will were put aside in the interest of unity and through an acknowledgment of the ministry of Peter that is given to the Pope of Rome. These dear people who were brave enough to put aside bitterness and seek to regain communion have a story and it must be told, never to be forgotten. There have been many historical tragedies of Churches ransacked and seized on both sides of the Catholic/Orthodox schism, and there has been much oppression of the Eastern Catholics by ungodly Communistic governments, but to recount these events with the purpose of stirring up anger would lose the vision of Our Lord’s. This vision has sought, is seeking, and shall ever seek oneness between His children. On the other hand, to recount the vision of union and a love that transcended the hatred and differences between East and West, this is a story that is ever upon my mind.

I have many friends and acquaintances who have seen the fractured world of Protestantism and have said, “Enough!” They have left their former Protestant abode for Eastern Orthodoxy, because it is a safe haven from the opinions of men each left to interpret the Bible on their own. But to many of us who are or were Protestants, we look on the outside and see that Catholics claim Tradition, Copts claim Tradition, Eastern Orthodox claim Tradition, Armenian Orthodox claim Tradition, et cetera et cetera. It is a fact that brings me to tears, that there are successors of the Apostles who are not in full communion with one another. And we as the faithful are suffering for this disunity. The crucial question to ask is-how should we view this disunion? Are we supposed to cast our lots with the most doctrinal bishops? And if so, who are they? If that were the case, how different would our adherence to Tradition really be, in contrast to Protestantism?

Let us consider the vision of the Catholic and compare it to those Eastern Brethren who share the same ultimate episcopacy but do not share the same chalice. We know that our Churches share the view that Christ left a visible Church, with Bishops leading the charge in the same vein as the Apostles. But we know that each group has an overall different view on the status of each other. It is never redundant to restate what the Catechism of the Catholic Church has to say about the Churches with whom she is not in communion.

1399 The Eastern churches that are not in full communion with the Catholic Church celebrate the Eucharist with great love. “These Churches, although separated from us, yet possess true sacraments, above all – by apostolic succession – the priesthood and the Eucharist, whereby they are still joined to us in closest intimacy.” A certain communion in sacris, and so in the Eucharist, “given suitable circumstances and the approval of Church authority, is not merely possible but is encouraged.”238¹

One way of describing the Catholic view of holy orders is that it is an indelible mark, as Tim Troutman’s recent full length article stated. While the term “indelible” may sound medieval and mechanistic, there is a thread of understanding the sacraments in a similar way in the East as well as in the West. The Donatist controversy is one example, where the Church saw that the Donatists were too strict in demanding rebaptism of those who had fallen away. Other sources of patristic thought saw this to be the case. It evokes a stronger view of the sacraments that is ultimately objective. This objectivity is at the heart of the Christian sacramental practice, something that neither sin nor schism can erase. This view is so powerful (an atomic bomb, as my homage to Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove points out) that it transcends our lack of full communion with one another. The disagreements over primacy and jurisdictions did lead to schism, but they did not lead to a destruction of Holy Orders. This maintains the fullness of sacramental life with God in Orthodoxy, even though on a horizontal level we are fragmented from one another. It goes to the point of saying that if Church authorities were to approve of it, Orthodox could receive the Eucharist from Catholics and vice versa. Holy Orders is so powerful that it transcends the differing views on the papacy. It reminds me of a story that I was told by my godfather prior to my conversion. I quote one account of it from the New York Times:

During a frustrating argument with a Roman Catholic cardinal, Napoleon Bonaparte supposedly burst out: “Your eminence, are you not aware that I have the power to destroy the Catholic Church?” The cardinal, the anecdote goes, responded ruefully: “Your majesty, we, the Catholic clergy, have done our best to destroy the church for the last 1800 years. We have not succeeded, and neither will you.”

Whether this is an apocryphal story or not, this understanding of Holy Orders permeates the Catholic view both of herself and of those Churches who have not maintained communion with the Pope. It is so powerful that even those bishops who do not esteem us can ultimately be bestowed with just as much majesty and honor as we would give to our own bishops who have communion with the Pope of Rome, the first among equals. I have had the pleasure to greet Metropolitan Jonah of the Orthodox Church in America with a kiss on the hand, and that kiss was given with just as much fervor as I would give to a bishop with whom I am in communion. That is because I love the Orthodox too much to be Orthodox. Orthodoxy’s opposition to communion with Rome comes from circumstances both tragic and sad. But the often untold story that brings the title of this article to mind is the fact that at many points in history, Orthodoxy’s opposition to Rome has brought her to turn in on Herself. When the various and complex tragedies that led to schism between East and West unfolded, the majority of Orthodox adopted the idea that the mystery of Holy Orders is not indelible. A door was thus opened up that led to not only less love for Rome, but many times less love for Orthodoxy itself. Orthodoxy ties valid holy orders to both Apostolic Succession and Orthodoxy. This does sound like a higher standard that should lead to more purity, but what does Orthodoxy mean exactly? As you may imagine, there are varying answers to this question of what it takes to be fully Orthodox. And so, in many senses this “higher” standard actually lowers the love that one can have for the servants of God, the Bishops and those faithful in communion with them. One can end up only esteeming those bishops who are pure in one’s estimation as having the fullness of sacramental life.

A clear example of this can be seen in the life of the priest Fr. Seraphim Rose, who has fallen asleep in the Lord and is receiving the sort of veneration that could lead to an eventual canonization. Even at his conversion, we read that there was a gaping sacramental question that is still in many respects unresolved today. That is, when one enters into Tradition via Orthodoxy, if one was formerly a Protestant who was baptized as a Protestant, is rebaptism necessary? It is interesting because Fr. Seraphim was himself not baptized, having converted via Protestantism; however, his own practice was to rebaptize those who were not baptized via an Orthodox Church.

Throughout his life, Fr. Seraphim fought for what he called “true Orthodoxy”, which was in contrast to other groups–some of which (in his opinion) were too zealous for Orthodoxy and others were not zealous enough. In the case of those groups who Fr. Seraphim had wished would be more open, there was given the term “super-correct”. From his biography we read about the “super-correct”–they went so far as to call for rebaptism of canonical Orthodox believers who wanted communion with his Orthodox Jurisdiction-the Russian Orthodox Church that was not in communion with the Moscow Patriarchate (most widely known as ROCOR). In thinking about this struggle, Fr. Seraphim wrote:

“I know for myself that if I would have to sit down and think out for myself exactly which shade of ‘zealotry’ is the ‘correct’ one today-I will lose all peace of mind and be constantly preoccupied with questions of breaking communion, of how this will seem to others, of ‘what will the Greeks think’ (and which Greeks?), and ‘what will the Metropolitan think?”²

The deep issue here is not the particulars of whether Orthodox who are rebaptizing other Christians (Orthodox or not) are right or wrong. And in point of fact, the Russian Orthodox Church is more united today than it was then-as of 2007, ROCOR is back under the Moscow Patriarchate. Instead, I would argue that the underlying issue is Holy Orders, and the principles that provide the Orthodox Churches with a sense of who is Orthodox.
Later in the biography, Fr. Seraphim is quoted further on the struggles that he faced in reflecting on the disunity that he faced as an Orthodox believer.

“Throughout the year”, he wrote, “we have heard news of disharmony in the Church. In one monastery (Jordanville) the monks say ‘we are sheep without a shepherd’-and yet what would they do if the Abbot suddenly became stern and demanding in order to produce oneness of soul? In another monastery (Boston) there seems to be oneness of soul, but the impression is that it is not too deep and it is too dependent on ‘opinions’-opinions of the holiness of the Abbot, or the rightness of the monastery’s theology (and the wrongness of everyone else’s), of the superiority of ‘Greek’ to ‘Russian,’ etc. And everywhere-in parishes, in families and small groups-there burst out animosities for no apparent reason, and the best and meekest people are subjected to persecutions.
“Where is the cause to be found of this universal phenomenon today? Are true leaders vanishing in the Church? Or are the followers refusing their trust to those who could become leaders? Both things, of course, are happening, and in general the love of many is growing cold, and both leadership and trust are collapsing in a world based on revolutionary brashness and self-centeredness.
“What is the answer? To gain a position of leadership and compel obedience?-Impossible in today’s world. To offer blind obedience to some leader, preferably a ‘charismatic’ one?-Extremely dangerous; many people follow Fr. Panteleimon of Boston in this way, and the end of it looks disastrous, producing disharmony and friction on the way.
“To practice love, trust and life according to the Holy Fathers in the small circle where one is-there seems to be no other way to solve the ‘spiritual crisis’ of today which expresses itself in the absence of oneness of soul and mind. If one finds the mind of the Fathers, then one will be at one with the others who find it also. This is much better than just following what so-and-so says, taking on faith that he is somehow infallible. But how difficult it seems to find the mind of the Fathers! How many disagreements there are with others equally sincere! Or is this because we have not searched long or deeply enough?
“May God give us the answer to this agonizing question!”³

When I read this part of the biography, I was moved to great sadness for what the Orthodox faithful have suffered in trying to find unity and purity. There are many issues surrounding these problems, but again in my mind a key one is the predominant Orthodox view of Holy Orders. When Holy Orders are not indelible, there is a shifting perspective as to who is holy and who is Orthodox, even to the point of judging within Orthodoxy, not to mention Catholicism. Fr. Seraphim’s emphasis on finding the “mind of the Fathers” sounds wonderful (and it is truly the ultimate answer to all problems in the world), but of course his opponents would have said that they were doing the same thing. This shifting perspective sadly shares the subjectivity and individualism of Protestantism, as individuals or groups end up making different conclusions about the source of the Church when the standards are anything but Apostolic Succession.

Flying in stark contrast to this view of the Church is the view offered by Catholicism. This view holds that despite the flaws in our ordained leaders and those in communion with them, there is a gift of grace that cannot be wiped away. It is so powerful that despite the fact that some Orthodox would not esteem a Catholic as living in grace (Fr. Seraphim Rose himself wrote much against Catholicism, for example), the Catholic can turn the other cheek and stand upon Holy Orders, thanking God for the grace that comes to the Orthodox Churches. Please note that I wrote “can”–tragic failures of Catholics to appreciate Orthodox do not speak to our principles, but because of those principles I will say it again: I love the Orthodox too much to be Orthodox.

And so, it is the Catholic vision of the Church that most fully preserves respect and love for all Apostolic Churches. It is a broader view that leaves the mandates of either/or, and is open to a more complex ecclesiology that at times will emphasize both/and, which is true of its views on other doctrines such as the teachings on the relationship between faith and works. The Catholic view holds Her own sacraments to be valid, but She also holds the various Orthodox Churches to have the full sacramental life. Thus, there is a principled sacramental basis for saying that the Catholic loves the Orthodox too much to be Orthodox. Again I stress that not all Catholics do this–but our catechisms and councils beg us to do so. I am also not saying that there are no Orthodox who share this vision-I am thankful for those Orthodox who have spoken out in support of this thinking such as Archbishop Hilarion Alfeyev of the Moscow Patriarchate. But in Catholicism there is an authoritative, principled basis for a mutual respect of the successors of the Apostles that springs from this view of Holy Orders. In relegating the Bishop of Rome and those in communion with him to something lower, there is a sense in which Orthodoxy has lowered Herself at the same time, tragically. May Our Lord raise us all through a growth in appreciation for His fellow children, each other. Through this appreciation, I pray that this fractionation would end and end soon, via a stronger love for Orthodoxy that comes from a stronger love of the mystery of Holy Orders. As for me, in my evaluation of Tradition, it is not that I did not see the Tradition in Orthodoxy. It was due to my love for the Orthodox that I entered into communion with the Popes throughout the ages through Catholicism. Our love for Orthodoxy provides a principled way for us to not only hear the call from above that is communion with God; it is a call that beseeches us to end the horizontal divisions amongst the Churches. May we all answer that call, to the best of our ability.

1. Catechism of the Catholic Church
2. Father Seraphim Rose-His Life and Works, Hieromonk Damascene
3. Father Seraphim Rose-His Life and Works, Hieromonk Damascene

My cousin’s husband who also teaches at Auburn came into the Church last week. He had been going to Mass with them but never showed any interest. We asked how he got interested and his answer was that the sermons were so horrible, he knew there must be something else there to make the people come…

Flannery O’Connor
The Habit of Being, Collected Letters
To “A”, August 22, 1959.

In many senses, this quote from Flannery O’Connor encapsulates my thoughts about Catholicism prior to my conversion. Like the husband of Flannery O’Connor’s cousin, there is a part of my own journey to communion with the Catholic Church that was spurred on because of the shortcomings of people in Christ’s Body, not in spite of them.

Our Creed is bold in stating that we not only believe in God, we also believe in the Church–and it is not merely the Church as some pharasaical organization with a lifeless but physical attachment to the Apostles. She is One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic. The Catechism of the Catholic Church states this with regard to the holiness of the Church:

823 “The Church . . . is held, as a matter of faith, to be unfailingly holy. This is because Christ, the Son of God, who with the Father and the Spirit is hailed as ‘alone holy,’ loved the Church as his Bride, giving himself up for her so as to sanctify her; he joined her to himself as his body and endowed her with the gift of the Holy Spirit for the glory of God.”²⁸⁹ The Church, then, is “the holy People of God,”²⁹⁰ and her members are called “saints.”²⁹¹

In the light of the many flaws that we have observed throughout history, how could one describe the Church as unfailingly holy? Has She not failed to live up to the standards of God time and time again? There are many recent and ancient flaws that Catholics can be guilty of, but in our view of the Church we see all of our real life, all of our real existence, as tied to the grace of God. For a fuller explanation of this, see one of our oldest articles here. Or to read from our Catechism, this section makes the point clearly:

827 “Christ, ‘holy, innocent, and undefiled,’ knew nothing of sin, but came only to expiate the sins of the people. The Church, however, clasping sinners to her bosom, at once holy and always in need of purification, follows constantly the path of penance and renewal.”²⁹⁹ All members of the Church, including her ministers, must acknowledge that they are sinners.³⁰⁰ In everyone, the weeds of sin will still be mixed with the good wheat of the Gospel until the end of time.³⁰¹ Hence the Church gathers sinners already caught up in Christ’s salvation but still on the way to holiness:

The Church is therefore holy, though having sinners in her midst, because she herself has no other life but the life of grace. If they live her life, her members are sanctified; if they move away from her life, they fall into sins and disorders that prevent the radiation of her sanctity. This is why she suffers and does penance for those offenses, of which she has the power to free her children through the blood of Christ and the gift of the Holy Spirit.³⁰²

We are all moving, trying to respond with a more fervent “Yes” to the call to communion. Church Fathers such as St. Gregory of Nyssa would look at perfection as a constant progress in the good. Our salvation is not a simple one time transaction, but is rather a progressive vision of beatification. {For an Eastern Orthodox perspective on this which harmonizes with both Western and Eastern Catholics, I highly suggest this video.} All of this is not to say that there are no tares or wolves in sheep’s clothing. We know that with even Christ as the physical head of the Apostles, one out of twelve was full of betrayal and was described as a “son of perdition”. But it does state that even among those who are being saved, this spotless Bride of Christ is nonetheless comprised of sinners on the way to a fuller grasp of holiness.

Therefore, any thoughts about the sins in the Church must be seen as sins of Her members living apart and in contradiction to their eternal calling and home. It is why we believe, as sad as it is, that those who are sacramentally joined to Christ may also be sacreligiously severed. If we held to the “once saved, always saved” dictum perhaps there could be the true dischord of which we are accused. But our life in Christ is a journey, and sadly some have forsaken the road. Others never truly joined the road in their heart of hearts, but used the Church, which is the very Ark of Salvation, a safe haven from the storm, as a way to mask their darkness and bring about a maelstrom in the hearts of the innocent. The particular tragedy of our day deals with something so horrible that it is arguably better dealt with in mournful silence, as another contributor at Called to Communion has wisely pointed out on his personal blog. This response of silent repentance, however, is not a silence stemming from an inability to speak intellectually. For just a couple examples of a more direct confrontation of the present matter, I would recommend this article by a layman named George Weigel, and this podcast by a priest, Father Thomas J. Loya.

And so, returning to the Flannery O’Connor quote and reflecting on my own entrance into Catholicism, I am reminded of my shock that despite the flurry of articles and exposees in the early part of this millenium, piling painful detail upon painful detail, that there was nonetheless a worldwide mourning and tribute paid to the passing of Pope John Paul II, of blessed memory. It is true that abusus non tollit usum was a logical rebuttal to the idea of rejecting Catholicism on these grounds alone. But as I thought about this issue, I was overwhelmed by the fact that so many stayed true to a Church undergoing such a storm of those among its leaders who so clearly were living faithlessly. Like O’Connor’s account, I knew that there was “something else” that made the people come to Catholicism. I knew that if my own congregations suffered from similar issues, we would have dissolved immediately. As I read the news of the day, I railed against the “oddity” and lack of “humanity” in a religion that extolled a definition of chastity that included an actual emulation of the celibacy of Christ. As much as I professed Christ to be True God and True Man as a Protestant, I must confess a strong skepticism that his life of 33 years lived in chastity had an actual reflection in anyone else on earth.

In my Protestant microcosm, I could not point to a Pastor Joe or a Reverend Steve who had promised to God to devote his life to churchly activities to the point where he would forsake marriage and focus on the families of others. The idea of celibacy itself is simply unnatural in our society, and Protestantism reflects that thinking quite clearly. Unmarried men may often be youth pastors et cetera, but it is almost unheard of to have senior pastors living as unmarried men. And yet, as acquainted with my Bible as I was from my Protestant background, I simply paid no attention to these words of Christ:

For there are eunuchs who have been so from birth, and there are eunuchs who have been made eunuchs by men, and there are eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. He who is able to receive this, let him receive it. Matthew 19:12

The inner struggles that you or I may have with Our Lord’s teachings do not undo the Life that Our Lord lived. They also do not negate the life that Christ says some were called to – something that my gut feelings and my society were calling “unnatural”. In fact, Christ’s own words state that this is something that only some can receive, so my own failings and inability to grasp something should never have undone His description of a life lived in utter chastity. In trying to mock Tradition with fingers pointed at those who have fallen short via one ideal (all the while not taking responsibility for my own sins), I felt myself drawn in by an example that is clear from those monastics who are on the road of faithful obedience and chastity. Try as I might, those who disobeyed did not make those who did follow with faith disappear. And in the same way, my personal call to the Church would not disappear. The more I thought of the disconnect between this ideal of chastity and my world where celibacy was nonexistent, the more I realized that I needed to consider the claims of the Church who praised both the single and the married in their call to holiness. The more I thought on the scandal of my day, the more I was drawn in. Eventually I knew these things to be detachments from Her True Life and Light. And I knew that in my own way, I was detached from the fulness of that Life and Light. May we all find a deeper attachment to His Holy Body in this Paschal Season.

Throughout the past year on Called to Communion, the various blog posts and full-length articles by the contributors have been met with objections of various stripes and sizes. It has been a mixture of excitement, hope, prayer, frustration, and calls for mercy for me to read many of those posts and the dialogue that has followed-my hope is that this venture has led us all to grow in learning more about one another and where we come from in our understanding of the Christian Faith. One comment which I have observed that seems to be repeated with an ever-growing frequency by some of our Protestant readers goes something like this: “Well, you Catholics argue for X but so do the Eastern Orthodox!”

Be it Apostolic Succession, opposition to Solo/Sola Scriptura, a Canon that is based more on the Septuagint than the Hebrew Scriptures as collected in Jamnia, or what have you, it seems that the essence of this argument is that because other Christians apart from Catholics assert something about our faith, that something does not argue for the particular correctness of Catholicism. Well, yes and no.

Yes, Catholics adhere to X, and yes, so do other Christians of the Apostolic Churches. Does it then logically follow that the common voice of Catholics and the other Traditional Christian Churches should not be heeded? Not by any means. As I recall my own days of searching and wrestling with Tradition as contrasted to my former Reformed Protestant home, I knew that the variety of options before me did not make their common voice any less persuasive, or fearful to consider. I recall saying with much trepidation that God had clearly called me to become Catholic or some flavor of Orthodoxy (Eastern, Oriental, Coptic, Armenian, etc.). It was a huge change that I knew would come to my life, and while I did not know where I would end up exactly, I knew without a doubt that the arguments over Apostolic Succession had me needing to leave Protestantism.

And so I write this post in dedication to the ones who make this sort of argument–realize what you are saying when you say that the Orthodox Churches also advocate a particular doctrine being supported by the writers on Called to Communion. The Catholic and Orthodox Churches speak in unison about so many things. That we differ on important matters like the nature of the episcopacy, particularly the successor of Peter, is worthy of reflection for Catholics, Orthodox and those Protestants who see our common message. But despite our differences, we are so close. We make the same call to communion with the Church Fathers. We venerate the Holy Mother of Our God (on this note, I want to parenthetically state that devotion to the Blessed Virgin is more full and flowering in the East than the West in terms of during the liturgical services, but my point is that Protestants should feel less at home in an Orthodox or Eastern Catholic Parish than they would in a Roman Catholic service, if Marian devotion is troubling). We beseech our Lord and King to have mercy on the souls of those who have gone to their eternal Rest. We view some of God’s faithful saints who lived lives of exceptional holiness as those to whom we may call upon in prayers on earth. We see the laying on of hands from the Apostles and their successors as something integral to ordination. We proclaim that we partake of the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of Our Lord in the Holy Eucharistic Mystery. We call upon Christ’s representative to hear our confessions of weakness and trust in his priestly prayer to absolve us of our sins, not through his own power, but through the grace of the ministry of Christ our high priest which has been passed down through that laying on of hands. We are anointed with oil for a fuller reception of the Holy Spirit in confirmation/chrismation. When we see our frailty of human illness, we are anointed again and partake of the body and the blood of Our Lord if possible, confident that the words of St. James will be true for us, and that any sins we have committed will be forgiven, again through the prayer of the elders who pray to God for us. We join ourselves to history with a liturgical calendar that reminds us of the rhythm of life. We fast on a regular basis. We see sacred art as a help and not some idolatrous hindrance to our spiritual life. In fact, we were together at an Ecumenical Council where iconoclasm was not only thought to be bad aesthetics–it was declared to be heresy.

Doctrinally, we do have our differences. But for my part as a Catholic, I am taught to thank God for the fullness of the sacraments that exist in Eastern Orthodox Churches that are not in communion with the Pope. In fact, as of the time of this writing, I have two good friends who are catechumens in the Antiochian Orthodox Church. When I have heard of their departure from Protestantism, I did not hesitate to express my joy at this growth in union with the Church that has existed since the time Our Lord’s ministry.

This joy is not something that I do of my own analysis or affections. The Catechism of the Catholic Church is even more joyful than me when it speaks of what we share in common with the Eastern Orthodox. Let’s examine two key points from its discussion of the Orthodox Churches.

838 “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.”

And later in the Catechism we read:

1399 The Eastern churches that are not in full communion with the Catholic Church celebrate the Eucharist with great love. “These Churches, although separated from us, yet possess true sacraments, above all – by apostolic succession – the priesthood and the Eucharist, whereby they are still joined to us in closest intimacy.” A certain communion in sacris, and so in the Eucharist, “given suitable circumstances and the approval of Church authority, is not merely possible but is encouraged.”238

All of the sacraments that the Orthodox Churches celebrate are viewed by Catholics to be entirely valid. We are separated, yes, but we are united in sharing the holy mysteries. This may be something that some readers do not know. One friend of mine who left evangelicalism for Orthodoxy had no idea that we as Catholics accept all of the sacraments of the Orthodox, but yes, our affection goes beyond smiles. It goes to the center of our spiritual life in the Church. If I were on my deathbed and there were no Catholic priests around, I would beg an Orthodox priest to say the last rites to me, and I would be faithful to my devotion to the Pope as the Bishop who is first among equals.

In contrast, the Catholic Catechism is clear that while our Reformed background is worthy of some admiration, it is simply not on the same ecclesial footing as the Orthodox Church.

1400 Ecclesial communities derived from the Reformation and separated from the Catholic Church, “have not preserved the proper reality of the Eucharistic mystery in its fullness, especially because of the absence of the sacrament of Holy Orders.”239 It is for this reason that, for the Catholic Church, Eucharistic intercommunion with these communities is not possible. However these ecclesial communities, “when they commemorate the Lord’s death and resurrection in the Holy Supper . . . profess that it signifies life in communion with Christ and await his coming in glory.”240

Here we read that there is a deficiency in the sacramental life of the Protestant ecclesial communities, as compared to that of the Orthodox Churches. The same words of closeness and sacramental fullness that were uttered regarding the Eastern Churches are not poured out by the councils and catechetical writers when thoughts turn to Protestantism. Forthcoming discussions here on Called to Communion will flesh out our understanding of the sacrament of Holy Orders, but for now I simply want to emphasize that Catholicism sees Orthodoxy as something far grander than Protestantism. Therefore, if one sees these arguments as a Protestant and feels called to communion vis a vis a conversion to Orthodoxy, this is not something that I as a Catholic bemoan. It is not a nudge in the right direction. Leaving Protestantism for Orthodoxy is to possess the fullness of sacramental life, despite not being in communion with Rome.

In a forthcoming post, I will explain the qualifications to my joy. But before qualifying my joy, I want to embrace and celebrate it. I thank God so much for my Orthodox brethren, and am truly happy to hear of God calling people to Himself through growth in the sacramental life that occurs when one leaves Protestantism for Orthodoxy.

May we all be faithful to His call to growth in faith, hope, and charity. May the divisions that scandalize the Lord and His Church end, so that they may no longer be causes for excuses to consider Tradition.

I’ve found this helpful in particular instances: there is the letter from Martin Luther to Pope Leo X which caused me to raise an eyebrow or two (or three, if that were possible), and there is St. Thomas More’s Dialogue Concerning Heresies, which was acclaimed by C.S. Lewis to be a masterpiece in the art of writing dialogues. Recently, another dialogue has caught my attention, that of a letter by John Calvin to Cardinal Sadoleto. I’ve only begun to scratch its surface and would encourage all those who care about this divide to go to such primary sources for inspiration and, as I said, a means to take personal affinities and emotions and place them on the back-burner.

So let’s look at one part of Calvin’s letter to Cardinal Sadoleto–there’s an eyebrow or two that will be raised, methinks.

Decrying what he thought to be one of the most egregious abuses of Catholics, Calvin states:

As to purgatory, we know that ancient churches made some mention of the dead in their prayers, but it was done seldom and soberly, and consisted only of a few words. It was, in short, a mention in which it was obvious that nothing more was meant than to attest in passing the affection which was felt toward the dead. As yet, the architects were unborn, by whom your purgatory was built; and who afterwards enlarged it to such a width, and raised it to such a height, that it now forms the chief prop of your kingdom. You yourself know what a hydra of errors thence emerged; you know what tricks superstition has at its own hand devised, wherewith to disport itself; you know how many impostures avarice has here fabricated, in order to milk men of every class; you know how great detriment it has done to piety. For, not to mention how much true worship has in consequence decayed, the worst result certainly was, that while all, without any comand from God, were vying with each other in helping the dead, they utterly neglected the congenial offices of charity, which are so strongly enjoined.

Note what Calvin is willing to admit-mentioning the dead in their prayers. His main issue is that in the 16th century, these prayers were not done “seldom and soberly”. The “expansion” of the understanding of the estate of those who have gone on to their eternal rest was decried because it was “abused”.

Which leads to the big question–what would he really defend in terms of prayers to or for the dead? Was this rhetorical sleight of hand, or was he open to a more humble appeal to or on behalf of the faithful departed?

If he wanted to throw the baby out with the bath water, how is he not guilty of committing the error of “abusus no tollit usum” (namely, that the abuse of something does not eradicate its use)?

Thoughts? Objections?