“While experiencing these days the painful situation of our divisions, we Christians can and must look to the future with hope,” Pope Benedict XVI told a packed basilica of St Paul’s outside-the-walls Wednesday evening, “because Christ’s victory means to overcome everything that keeps us from sharing the fullness of life with Him and with others.”

Source: Vatican Radio.

That from the Bishop of Rome’s address at vespers on the final day of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. It is fitting that this week ends on the Feast of the Conversation of St. Paul, because St. Paul never fails to attribute conversion — which is necessarily a prerequisite to unity — to God’s grace touching his life. I think that the Feast day ending this week is especially befitting to the dialogue between Reformed Christians and Catholics, here at Called to Communion. As one who spent most of my life living as a Calvinist, reflecting on the necessity of God’s grace (even for the tiny daily conversions that steer me from sin) comes more easily to me than it would if I had come from a different sect of Protestantism. Only by a dramatic outpouring of God’s grace will we end our disunity and obey the call of Christ our King, His great call to communion.

Loving God, by the infinite grace merited for us by your Divine Son, may your Holy Spirit fill us, Catholics and Calvinists, with a heart for Christian unity and a willingness to heed your call to communion.  May we learn and communicate with a desire for truth and a love for one another. May we remember to look to the future with hope on account of Christ’s victory.

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

We pray in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Anyone who becomes acquainted with [the Church] as she lives out her life sees immediately that the ancient Church never consisted in a static juxtaposition of local Churches.  Catholicity, concretely realized in many forms, belongs to her essence from the very outset.  In the apostolic period it is above all the figure of the apostle itself that stands outside the scope of the local principle.  The apostle is not the bishop of a community but rather a missionary for the whole Church.  The figure of the apostle is the strongest refutation of every purely local conception of the Church.  He expresses in his person the universal Church; he is her representative, and no local Church can claim him for herself alone.   Paul carried out this function of unity by means of his letters and a network of messengers.  These letters are an exercise of his catholic ministry of unity, which can be accounted for only by the apostle’s authority in the Church universal. (P.83.)

Heavenly Father, may we become united and at peace with our Christian brothers and sisters through a better understanding of the ministries of the Apostles, bishops and fathers of the early Church.  We pray in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Juan de Juanes, The Last Supper

Looking at the landscape of Christian disunity, one could easily despair. As a Reformed man, especially in my early years out of college, I went through my own season of discouragement on account of Christian divisions. I did not understand how such starkly contrary positions existed within what I understood as the ‘Christian body.’ Without denying God’s promises or power, to me the only way to make sense of the landscape seemed to be by whittling away at the definition of Christianity (or “church”) until little or nothing remained but myself and my own interpretation of Scripture.

Now years later, as a Catholic man, I continue to feel sorrow over our divisions. I see unchurched (but seeking) friends and loved ones confused by the division, unsure where to turn to find Truth. The devil has worked a most pernicious scheme over the centuries by playing off of human sin and stirring up this condition.

It is right to recognize our deep divisions, and the grief and damage these divisions cause to eternal souls. It is right to stare honestly at the unpleasant image we see staring back at us in the Christian mirror. But we must not play into Satan’s schemes by forgetting the great hope we have in Christ’s resurrection!

Here, at the start of this Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, place yourself at the empty tomb. Remember to take on the wonderment of the women standing there where Christ’s body should have been:

And as they were frightened and bowed their faces to the ground, the men said to them, “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.³

To the extent we kick up the dust in frustration at Christianity’s failure to be united, the angels’ question is one we should pose to ourselves: Why do you seek the living among the dead? You know that Christ has risen. You know that Christ is victorious over death. Why then do you look despairingly at the Christian body, as if it were the land of the dead? To do so is to sin against hope.

Hope, one of the three theological virtues, “is the confident expectation of divine blessing and the beatific vision of God.”⁴ As God’s people in pursuit of unity, we have every reason to expect divine blessing. He has poured out such perfect love upon His children. If my children despaired each day that their parents were about to divorce and that they would be separated to various foster families — even though they had been given every reason to hope for and expect the contrary — it would be a great insult. How much more then, as God’s children, would we sin against hope to despair at our Victorious Lord’s ability to unify Christians?

With the sin of despair:

man ceases to hope for his personal salvation from God, for help in attaining it or for the forgiveness of his sins. Despair is contrary to God’s goodness, to his justice – for the Lord is faithful to his promises – and to his mercy.⁵

We must not let collective despair lead us (individually) into this sin. We must believe that our Victorious Lord will provide us help in attaining salvation and forgiveness. But just as despair of the possibility of unity is a sin, so is the misplaced presumption upon God’s almighty power in believing that the unity of some small set of ‘true believers’ is a fait accompli.⁶

No. Christ is victorious, and yet the hard work of reconciliation remains ahead for us, not to be despaired against nor presumed. While this work is only possible by God’s grace, it is still work — it is real work. Like a family in disunity, we are not served by denying the condition, nor of casting away hope that it can be resolved. Like that family, we must sit in the living room and discuss with open and sincere hearts our disagreements. I would rejoice to have any separated brother into my living room to discuss the issues which divide us. I would rejoice to have my own father discuss the matter frankly with me. Perhaps you would rejoice to have your husband, wife, parent, or child do the same.

For now, I pray that Called to Communion will have something of that living-room feel. Let us be changed here by the victory of our Lord Jesus, touched by hope and willing to work until we are in unity. Only by our unity with each other, and accordingly by our unity with God, will the world be able to see clearly that the Father sent the Son, to see clearly that its hope flows from the Son’s victory over death. (See John 17.)

“Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.” (1 Corinthians 15:58.)

1.  See, e.g., here.
2. A reference to 1 Corinthians 15:51-58.
3. Luke 24:5-6, ESV.
4. CCC, para. 2090. See also 1 Corinthians 13:13.
5. CCC, paras. 2091-2092.
6. Id.

This is my experience moving from life in a Reformed congregation as a committed Calvinist to life in an American Catholic parish as a Catholic who strives to live like one. It is not my conversion story, that is, not an explanation of why I converted or what I went through during my conversion.

As Presbyterians, my wife and I moved a lot. Before we were enrolled in an RCIA class together,¹ my wife and I had been married for eight years, and had lived in six places. We had been married at McLean Presbyterian Church, a large and influential PCA church in an affluent D.C. suburb. Later, we were members of a medium-sized church in Virginia Beach, VA, New Covenant PCA; a large and ‘contemporary’ church in Annapolis, MD, Annapolis Evangelical Presbyterian; a church that had just changed from the OPC denomination to the PCA, New Life, in La Mesa, CA; and a small and extremely close-knit church plant, Dayspring Presbyterian, in Linthicum, MD.

These congregations had much in common with each other and with the churches of my wife’s and my upbringing. Generally speaking, our peers at these places had a sincere love for God, a willingness to place God first in their lives at all costs. As much as I hated “church shopping” at each move, I loved getting settled in to each of these particular congregations, growing in the faith with families similar to my own, getting to know the pastor, and encouraging our elders. We were involved in a host of programs, such as fellowship groups, Sunday morning Bible studies, nursery, and choir, as well as all of the wonderful ad hoc events that occurred throughout the year. And in terms of sharing in intimate Christian love, our experience at our last Reformed congregation was our best; that is, we left on a high note. We became dear friends with the pastor and his wife, could trust our children around any of the other families, and could call on a long list of friends if we ever needed extra help in life.

There were strains too. Several of these congregations had encountered internal factionalism, a church ‘split’, or (in the one case) a denominational change. Issues of contention included musical styles, preaching styles, and (certainly) doctrinal matters. We saw protracted disputes over the role of the Holy Spirit, the necessity for elders to be paedobaptists, the proper age at which children could receive communion, and the significance of the communion elements themselves. There were moral issues that created angst within these congregations too: very common experiences with divorce, where emotional distance was equated with ‘adultery’ (‘porneia’) so as to invoke the supposed New Testament permissions for divorce; disagreements on the permissibility of different forms of contraception; the propriety of in vitro fertilization (and prayers for the efficacy of said technique); and so on.

Generally speaking, we loved the fellowship and community, and accepted the ecclessial, doctrinal, and moral struggles as inevitable for the people of God still struggling in sin. As my intellectual switches slowly began to be thrown in favor of Catholicism’s claims, I was distressed at the thought of leaving life in a Reformed congregation to head for Catholic parish life. In that instance, the grass definitely did not seem greener on the other side. Catholics, my generalization went, had a weak commitment to their faith, shared little in fellowship, concerned themselves more with bingo and raffle tickets than fellowship and outreach, never read their Bibles, didn’t know their faith, and didn’t listen to a word spoken by the homilist.

So how has Catholic parish life gone for the Browns? The answer to that question deserves a quick caveat. When I accepted that the Catholic Church was the one, holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church, the Church Christ founded, I made an acknowledgement. It hit me that if the Church was those things in my own time, she was also those things through her least attractive times. She will be those things in the future, no matter what clerical scandals or conditions of lay despondency should occur. Because of what she is and what is contained in her Eucharist, as well as because of the mandate extra ecclesiam nulla salus, for those who recognize what the Catholic Church is or might be, there is a special and essential obligation to learn and then to follow one’s properly formed conscience. So, simply stated, I would have joined the Catholic Church even if faced with the lousiest parish life imaginable because I did not join for Catholic parish life. That said, Catholic parish life for my family has been sweet and precious, and also has left some things to be desired.

Catholic parish life is sweet and precious because we are able to connect with dear Christians who love their faith and who live in the fullness of the Catholic faith. Where we have ‘connected’ with others who have given their lives over to God’s service, we have ‘connected’ at a much deeper level than I have previously experienced. I do not attribute this to a deeper commitment to God’s service by these Catholics than I could have found in my Presbyterian congregants. Not at all! But in my Presbyterian congregations, there was never a complete “meeting of the minds” on the faith with any other person, I suppose including my own wife. One fellow may have held a virtually identical view on Predestination (giving us great kinship) while simultaneously holding a discordant view on contraception. Or another fellow may have been very like-minded on moral issues, but then not seen a problem with putting leftover communion bread out with the fellowship snacks after the service. The proper way for Christians to live was not knowable apart from a common interpretation of Scripture. But since each individual was his or her own final interpretative authority of Scripture, we never could be mutually abandoned to a common way of Christian life. Those of my fellow parishioners who are abandoned to the teaching authority of the Catholic magisterium can thereby be mutually abandoned to a common way of Christian life, like-minded with me in doctrine and morals. This creates a depth of fraternity which I had not previously experienced, despite the amazing fraternal love I shared with many of my Reformed brethren.

In addition, in Catholic parish life we get to worship right along with all of the great Saints in Heaven. When we partake of the Holy Eucharist, we are bodily united with all of the Holy Catholic Church, including our Bishops, our separated loved ones, and even the distant Redemptorist monks at Papa Stronsay, Scotland, or those giant-hearted Missionaries of Charity sisters in Calcutta.  Our local parish’s liturgy and mass is the same as that of a parish of any other language, on any other continent, even in places of war. While spending last Christmas in the heart of Afghanistan, attending mass said by a Czech priest, in Czech, I was still united by the Bread of Heaven with my wife and our home parish.

My parish’s liturgy also contains rich music that is itself a part of the worship. It is traditional, but not because it is “old fashioned” (many of the compositions are modern).  It is traditional because it taps into the traditional role of music in the Catholic liturgy.  (I must concede at this point that many Catholic parishes do deal with debates over music that are strikingly similar to those at Protestant congregations.  A distinction lies in the ability to resolve this debate through resort to tradition and the role of music in the Church’s liturgy.) Lent is a community sacrifice, Hallow-e’en is given context, and Christmas is a season that doesn’t start until December 25th! We even have shared adventures, like when we process the body of Christ through town.

Speaking more generally, there are many similarities between Catholic parish life and Presbyterian congregational life. In parishes one can find fellowship groups, Bible studies, prayer groups, youth groups, young-professionals groups, moms groups, boy scouts, and the like. But, admittedly, there are improvements to be desired. Even in parishes that are committed to orthodoxy, one can find many a frustrating faux pas, such as parishioners entering mass with a cup of Starbucks in hand.² Also, one might hear some wonky teaching in RCIA, or in a homily when visiting a parish with a less-than-stellar priest. The religious education of children is based on a parochial school model that is rapidly becoming antiquated — this leaves home school and public school kids to run through a one-size-fits-all religious education program that leaves a “check in the box” taste in the parent’s mouth. And yes, as expected, there are plenty of older Catholics who seem more enthused about raffle sales than outreach.

Ultimately, I love the richness, and am invigorated by what I perceive to be “growth areas.” There is so much grace in the sacraments and in tradition on which I can lean for strength. And I could never run out of opportunities to be involved in ‘ministries’ and the lives of my fellow parishioners, to encourage them to run the race set before them with perseverance.

Nothing has given me a misgiving about parish life that I could not also find in some Reformed denomination or individual congregation. If the more earnest and orthodox among us parishioners could pack up and form our own Catholic denomination, perhaps some of the aforesaid deficits would disappear. But in the process we would have instantly cashed in on all the treasures of being in unity with the Church founded by our Lord Jesus Christ.  We would also wind up cashing in on doctrinal purity, since the source of the Catholic Church’s purity is not a core group of earnest and orthodox believers, but the Holy Spirit given at Pentecost to the Church. While I did not join the Catholic Church for Catholic parish life, I have been filled with joy by that parish life.

1. RCIA is the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults, a ritual and classroom-based process for unbaptized persons to enter the Catholic Church, but also used by many parishes to catechize Christians baptized as Protestants who are seeking to enter into full communion with the Catholic Church.
2. This violates the fast, assuming the human cupholder is partaking of Holy Eucharist; it is disrespectful to those who are fasting, if he is not.

Central to the issues debated between Rome and the Reformation, VanDrunen claims, “is the question of who may be saved.” In exploring the issue, he makes the following claim about the Catholic teaching:

For many years, the Roman Catholic Church taught that people could enjoy eternal life and escape everlasting damnation only by being received into its membership.  In recent generations, that teaching has changed.  Rome now embraces a very inclusive view that extends the hope of salvation to people of many different religions or even no religion at all, provided they sincerely follow the truth and goodness that they know in their own experience.

Dr. David VanDrunen

That is, in VanDrunen’s understanding, while the Catholic Church historically taught Church “membership” to be a sine qua non for receiving eternal life, she now “embraces” an inclusive soteriology that leaves open the door of Heaven for people of all religious or irreligious stripes, so long as they are sincere seekers of truth and goodness.  From the claim that Catholicism has changed from exclusivity to inclusivity, VanDrunen concludes that the Catholic Church’s alluring claim of never having changed its doctrine is false.  But as I will show below, VanDrunen’s argument misses whole swaths of purported “inclusivity” in the “older” Catholic teaching, and plays on an ambiguity in the word ‘change.’

What does VanDrunen think the Catholic Church has taught on the necessity of being within the Church in order to saved?  According to him, Catholicism traditionally taught that even prior to the fall grace was necessary in order for man to perform “works meritorious of eternal life.”  He explains that under the ‘older’ Catholic teaching, “all people are doomed to condemnation.”  But by growing in virtues and adhering to the Church’s sacramental system, a Catholic could hope to receive “final justification and attain eternal life.”

Having explained the “older” Catholic teaching of how one can be saved, VanDrunen next explores who can be saved under this system.  He tells his readers that this salvific sacramental system “was available only to those who actually participate in her sacramental rites, and this was consistent with [the Catholic] view of salvation as described above.”

VanDrunen then explores a doctrinal term common to Reformed and Catholic Christians: extra Ecclesiam nulla salus [“there is no salvation outside the Church”].¹ Citing an “older” ecumenical council to teach about extra Ecclesiam nulla salus, VanDrunen quotes from this pericope of the Council of Florence:

It firmly believes, professes, and proclaims that those not living within the Catholic Church, not only pagans, but also Jews and heretics and schismatics cannot become participants in eternal life, but will depart “into everlasting fire which was prepared for the devil and his angels” [Matt. 25:41], unless before the end of life the same have been added to the flock; and that the unity of the ecclesiastical body is so strong that only to those remaining in it are the sacraments of the Church of benefit for salvation, and do fastings, almsgiving, and other functions of piety and exercises of Christian service produce eternal reward, and that no one, whatever almsgiving he has practiced, even if he has shed blood for the name of Christ, can be saved, unless he has remained in the bosom and unity of the Catholic Church.²

VanDrunen interprets this Council as holding that even martyrdom will fail to bring eternal life to any person not in unity with the Catholic Church.  He sees this teaching of the Council of Florence in the teaching of later Catholics as well, including Pope Pius IX, the censor of “latitudinarianism” and supposed rejector of hope of salvation for those outside the true Church of Christ. VanDrunen ends this section by citing Fr. Leonard Feeney, a Catholic priest known for insisting that “only members of the Roman Catholic Church could be saved.”

So is this an accurate articulation of the Catholic Church’s doctrine of extra Ecclesiam nulla salus? Before answering that question, a brief explanation may be in order about the authority of individual Catholic theologians to define Catholic teaching.  The Catholic Church does not maintain that the Holy Spirit preserves all Catholics from error whenever they opine about faith or morals.  Rather, the Catholic Church teaches that the Holy Spirit specially preserves from error the successors of St. Peter, the Bishop of Rome, when they speak ex cathedra, as well as General Councils when representing the whole episcopate.³ That is, there is a critical distinction between Church doctrine on the one hand, and common teaching or theological opinion on the other.  So to the extent that VanDrunen relies on Fr. Feeney or other individual Catholic theologians to determine what is the traditional Catholic doctrine regarding this question, his methodology is flawed.⁴

That said, VanDrunen has given a generally accurate articulation of the traditional Catholic doctrine of extra Ecclesiam, especially with his quotation from the Council of Florence given above.  That text is not only from an authoritative ecumenical council, but is also consistent with the testimony of much earlier texts from the Church Fathers.  In fact, it is itself largely a quotation of St. Fulgentius of Ruspe (c. 500 AD).  The early Church Fathers, the teachings of the Magisterium over the centuries, and conciliar texts reflect the consistent Catholic teaching that extra Ecclesiam nulla salus.

Then VanDrunen turns to the claim that the Second Vatican Council was a “watershed” on the “inclusivity of salvation.”  However, he admits that there were “signs of revised doctrine” in the centuries leading up to this watershed.  VanDrunen invokes Pope Pius IX as a harbinger of change, the very same Pope whom he uses as a connecting dot to show the continuity of the ‘older’ Catholic position. VanDrunen says, “Even while he was condemning ‘latitudinarian’ claims in the 1860s, Pius IX also taught that people who are ‘invincibly ignorant’ (i.e., through no fault of their own) about Christianity and follow the natural law may attain eternal life.” That is, VanDrunen sees in the teachings of Blessed Pope Pius IX both the condemnation of those who dismiss ecclesial significance (i.e., latitudinarians) and the approval of the belief that the invincibly ignorant possibly attain salvation.  It is ironic that VanDrunen recognizes both of these teachings coming from Blessed Pope Pius IX, but does not see the possibility that the teachings are consistent with each other.  Instead, as his article shows, VanDrunen believes that the teachings are in disharmony, a ‘change’ from exclusivity to inclusivity.

The Second Vatican Council was not a “watershed” of inclusive salvation which was merely foreshadowed by earlier texts.  Rather, it was firmly in line with a steady development of doctrine on the possibility of salvation for those not materially united to the Catholic Church, that is, the universal Church governed by the successor of Peter and by the bishops in communion with him.⁵

The key Vatican II text on extra Ecclesiam is the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Lumen Gentium, which states:

For they who without their own fault do not know of the Gospel of Christ and His Church, but yet seek God with sincere heart, and try, under the influence of grace, to carry out His will in practice, known to them through the dictate of conscience, can attain eternal salvation.⁶

This authoritative teaching is consistent with and a further refinement of what Blessed Pope Pius IX wrote a full century before Vatican II:

There are, of course, those who are struggling with invincible ignorance about our most holy religion. Sincerely observing the natural law and its precepts inscribed by God on all hearts and ready to obey God, they live honest lives and are able to attain eternal life by the efficacious virtue of divine light and grace. Because God knows, searches and clearly understands the minds, hearts, thoughts, and nature of all, his supreme kindness and clemency do not permit anyone at all who is not guilty of deliberate sin to suffer eternal punishments.

Also well known is the Catholic teaching that no one can be saved outside the Catholic Church.⁷

Here Blessed Pope Pius IX simply and skillfully articulates these two Catholic beliefs: God will not eternally punish those who are without deliberate sin, and God will also not save those outside the Catholic Church. VanDrunen thinks that these two beliefs are not compatible with each other.  Apparently he agrees with the controversial Fr. Schillebeeckx, whom he quotes as describing these two teachings as “diametrically opposed.” But the teachings are compatible with each other.  What VanDrunen dismisses is the possibility that the invincibly ignorant can in some circumstances, and only by God’s grace, be extraordinarily incorporated into the Catholic Church.

In Church history we find earlier examples than Pope Pius IX of Catholics believing in the salvation of those not materially united to the Church.  The doctrine of “baptism of blood” is ancient within the Catholic Church, going back perhaps to the Apostle James’s co-martyr.⁸  It appears also in the teachings of St. Augustine, from the early 5th century:

For whatever unbaptized persons die confessing Christ, this confession is of the same efficacy for the remission of sins as if they were washed in the sacred font of Baptism. For He who said, “Unless a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God,” [John 3:5] made also an exception in their favor, in that other sentence where he no less absolutely said, “Whosoever shall confess me before men, him will I confess also before my Father which is in heaven;” (Matt. 10:43) and in another place, “Whosoever will lose his life for my sake, shall find it” (Matt. 16:25).  And this explains the verse, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints.”⁹

As explained by St. Augustine and maintained through to the present by the Catholic Church, unbaptized martyrs who shed their blood for the sake of Christ are saved nonetheless, receiving the fruits of Baptism.  Baptism of blood is an extraordinary method of fulfilling the soteriological prerequisite of being ‘inside the Church’ when Baptism is impossible.¹⁰

There is another longstanding teaching within the Catholic Church that maintains the possibility of salvation for those not materially united with her.  The “baptism of desire,” like baptism of blood, extraordinarily brings about the fruits of Baptism for an unbaptized individual even though it itself is not a sacrament.¹¹ “For catechumens who die before their Baptism, their explicit desire to receive it, together with repentance for their sins, and charity, assures them the salvation that they were not able to receive through the sacrament.”¹²

The Council of Trent (1547) declared this doctrine over 400 years before Vatican II:

This translation [from the state of birth to the state of Grace] however cannot, since promulgation of the Gospel, be effected except through the washing of regeneration or its desire, as it is written: Unless a man be born again of water and the Holy Ghost, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God. [John 3:5.]¹³

We see from Trent and St. Augustine a clear belief that the washing of regeneration is necessary for salvation, and a belief that extraordinary non-sacramental means of obtaining the fruits of Baptism are possible.  To the teachings of Trent and St. Augustine, many more examples could be added.¹⁴ These teachings mean that very early on, Catholic doctrine qualified extra Ecclesiam in a way that left open the possibility of salvation for those not materially united to the Church.  This proves false VanDrunen’s claim that the Catholic Church has recently “changed” its “older” teaching that “people could enjoy eternal life and escape everlasting damnation only by being received into its membership.”

In fact, over the centuries the Church carefully has developed a nuanced doctrine of salvation for those not materially united to her.  This process has been so cautious because of the weighty concern of calling all sinners to the ordinary means of grace through formal union with the Church, on the one hand, and the similarly weighty concern of avoiding the appearance of delimiting God’s ability to extend grace and salvation through extraordinary means, on the other. It is this process which has led the Church to its reflection on salvation for those who are invincibly ignorant, the subject of VanDrunen’s article.  As the Catholic Catechism teaches, “Every man who is ignorant of the Gospel of Christ and of his Church, but seeks the truth and does the will of God in accordance with his understanding of it, can be saved. It may be supposed that such persons would have desired Baptism explicitly if they had known its necessity.”¹⁵

Following his analysis of the “old” and “new” Catholic teachings on extra Ecclesiam, VanDrunen offers a critique of one of the Catholic apologist’s tools:

Catholic apologists in our own day appeal to the certainty and unchanging character of their own church’s teaching, and their arguments often seem compelling to Protestants who are weary of ecclesiastical divisions. But this area of theology provides one example (among others) of how Roman doctrine has indeed changed over the years. Rome used to have a very exclusive doctrine of salvation, but it has become quite inclusive in recent generations.

For VanDrunen, Catholic doctrine “has indeed changed,” and he believes this change refutes modern Catholic appeals to the “unchanging character” of the Catholic Church.  The fallacy of his logic is in his amphibolous use of the term ‘change.’  By using the term ‘change’ ambiguously, VanDrunen leads the reader to the false conclusion that the Catholic Church has contradicted herself.  However, by distinguishing between change as organic development and change as contradicting what was previously held, the conclusion that the Catholic Church has contradicted herself no longer follows.  In other words, if Catholic doctrine has changed by developing, this change does not lead to the conclusion that the Vatican II teaching (regarding the possibility of salvation for those not in full communion with the Church) contradicts what was previously held.

This notion that Christian doctrines have developed should be no surprise.  Major theological and religious doctrines have developed, such as the Trinity, the nature and canon of Sacred Scripture, or the two natures of Christ.  While Reformed believers implicitly accept the notion of doctrinal development in those instances, they reject modern developments out of hand.  But this acceptance of primitive developments while rejecting modern developments is ad hoc.  There is no principled reason to accept development of Trinitarian doctrine while simultaneously denying the possibility of development on extra Ecclesiam after centuries of careful study and reflection.

VanDrunen’s article leads the reader to reach a false conclusion about whether the Catholic Church has ever contradicted herself.  It does this by its amphibolous use of the term “change” and by its presumption that doctrinal development has not occurred in the instance of extra Ecclesiam and invincible ignorance.  The authoritative teachings of the Catholic Church are not contradictory on this matter, but carefully elucidate Sacred Scripture and our understanding of God’s mercy and justice.

1. VanDrunen explains that the Westminster Confession of Faith has embraced the term in a way that seeks to clarify vagueness.  He cites WCF, ch. XXV, sec. 2, which states, “The visible church, which is also catholic or universal under the gospel (not confined to one nation, as before under the law), consists of all those throughout the world that profess the true religion; and of their children: and is the kingdom of the Lord Jesus Christ, the house and family of God, out of which there is no ordinary possibility of salvation.”  With the qualification that salvation is not ‘ordinarily’ possible outside the visible church, the WCF leaves a vagueness, at least inasmuch as the Catholic position leave a vagueness.  That is because in either position extraordinary possibilities of salvation for those ‘outside’ of visible unity with the Church are not excluded.
2. Ecumenical Council of Florence, sess. 11 (1442).
3. See Ludwig Ott, Fundamentals of Catholic Dogma, Intro., sec. 8, available here.
4. See Fr. William Most, Tragic Errors of Leonard Feeney, available here.
5. Lumen Gentium, 8.
6. Ch. II, para. 16, available here.
7. Quanto conficiamur moerore, paras. 7-8 (Aug. 10, 1863), available here.
8.  See Taylor Marshall, Canterbury Tales, Baptism by Blood and the Apostle James, Jul. 27, 2011.
9. St. Augustine, City of God, bk. 13, ch. 7.
10. Cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church, paras. 1257-1260.
11. Id., para. 1258.
12. Id., para. 1259.
13. Council of Trent, sess. 6, ch. 4.
14. See, for example, the list of quotations from the Church Fathers regarding the baptism of desire and baptism of blood, available here.
15. CCC, para. 1260.

The claim in the Westminster Confession of Faith that all controversies of religion ultimately are to be determined by the Holy Spirit speaking in Sacred Scripture contradicts the testimony of the Church Fathers, who repeatedly teach the necessity of judging such controversies by way of the Church and Sacred Scripture. The Westminster Confession of Faith is a classic restatement of Reformed theology born in the 17th century from an assembly of ‘Divines’ convened by the British Parliament. In its Chapter One, the Divines took up what is perhaps the clearest point of distinction between Protestant Reformers and Catholics, namely the locus of ecclesial authority to settle the doctrine of the faith.

The Westminster Confession addresses the matter this way:

The supreme judge by which all controversies of religion are to be determined, and all decrees of councils, opinions of ancient writers, doctrines of men, and private spirits, are to be examined, and in whose sentence we are to rest, can be no other but the Holy Spirit speaking in the Scripture.¹

Robert Shaw, in his Exposition of the Westminster Confession, expounds upon this point:

That the Supreme Judge, by which all controversies in religion are to be determined, is no other but the Holy Spirit speaking in the Scripture, is asserted in opposition to the Papists, who maintain that the Church is an infallible judge in religious controversies; though they do not agree among themselves whether this infallible authority resides in the Pope, or in a council, or in both together. Now, the Scripture never mentions such an infallible judge on earth. Neither Pope, nor councils, possess the properties requisite to constitute a supreme judge in controversies of religion; for they are fallible, and have often erred, and contradicted one another. Although the Church or her ministers are the official guardians of the Scriptures, and although it belongs to them to explain and enforce the doctrines and laws contained in the Word of God, yet their authority is only ministerial, and their interpretations and decisions are binding on the conscience only in so far as they accord with the mind of the Spirit in the Scriptures. By this test, the decisions of councils, the opinions of ancient writers, and the doctrines of men at the present time, are to be tried, and by this rule all controversies in religion must be determined.²

That is, for the Reformed subscriber to the Westminster Confession, every controversy of religion, and every theological decree, opinion, or doctrine, is to be put to one test: the Holy Spirit speaking in the Scripture. This is meant to avoid ultimate reliance upon human ecclesial authorities (specifically, the Catholic Magisterium) who, from the Reformed perspective, can, and have, erred on religious matters.

Given the finality with which the very Word of the Third Person of the Trinity must be taken, it might seem straightforward enough to rely on this Word to settle controversies. With this rule, the English Reformers were marking out a bright dividing line between the Church of England and those Churches in communion with Rome. The reformational church authorities were not over the Bible, could not declare contrary to it, and would not be taken as having a voice against the Holy Spirit. But how does this work practically, this putting a controversy of religion or theological doctrine to “the Holy Spirit speaking in the Scripture”?

Shaw explains that it works this way: a controversy may properly be put to the Church or her ministers, who, acting as ‘guardians’ of the Scriptures and enforcers of the law contained therein, yield ‘ministerial’ authority. However, he also cautions, their decisions on any given controversy are only binding on the believer’s conscience insofar as the decisions are in line with “the mind of the Spirit in the Scriptures.” The believer may, under this scheme, try the word of the ministerial authorities in an effort to ensure it is sound.

Because a believer-disputant can cross-check his ministerial authorities before being bound by their settlement of any given controversy, these authorities offer “final judgment” on nothing. The relationship is one of ‘guardianship,’ but the guardians are followed only to the extent that the guarded are in consent and agreement with the guardians’ interpretations. But the believer-disputant, too, is a fallible and often-erring authority, so fails the very test Shaw attempts to apply to Catholic authorities. This leaves the believer-disputant in no better position than his guardian to render “final judgment” on a controversy of religion. Given these deficiencies, what the ministerial authorities and believer-disputants cannot do individually, they cannot do in conjunction. As both authorities who could determine what the Holy Spirit has said have failed the test Shaw believes he has properly applied to the Catholic Church, there is no practical way in the Reformed scheme to settle a controversy of religion with certainty through “the Holy Spirit speaking in the Scripture.”

With that background, I would like to explore how the Church Fathers treat the question of whether the final judge of controversies of religion, or of theological decrees, opinions, or doctrines is Scripture or the Church, or whether there is a third way. I will also briefly identify what the Catholic Church itself officially teaches on this matter.

II. Church Fathers

A great deal of extant writings from the early Church Fathers have “controversies of religion” as their very topic or subject matter. The early Church Fathers penned these works, which were mailed and passed amongst the early Churches with great zeal, to combat a host of disputes, controversies, and heresies. From them we can glean an understanding of how the early Church resolved controversies, or measured theological decrees, opinions, or doctrines. This makes for a useful comparison to the conclusion on the same subject drawn by the Westminster Divines.

The works of St. Ignatius of Antioch provide a fine example. He lived from around the year AD 50 to approximately AD 107, and wrote on the subject of resolving controversies of religion on the way to his martyrdom, just a few years after the Apostle St. John died. He wrote that:

For, all who belong to God and Jesus Christ are with the bishop. And those, too, will belong to God who have returned, repentant, to the unity of the Church so as to live in accordance with Jesus Christ. Make no mistake, brethren. No one who follows another into schism inherits the kingdom of God. No one who follows heretical doctrine is on the side of the passion.³

For St. Ignatius, returning to one’s bishop is identical with returning to the unity of the Church. One lives in accordance with Jesus Christ by way of seeking unity with the Church. There is no apparent place for conflict between belief necessary for unity with the Church and belief in accordance with Jesus Christ.

Elsewhere, he writes:

Let all follow the bishop as Jesus Christ did the Father, and 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. Wherever the bishop appears, there let the people be; as wherever Jesus Christ is, there is the Catholic Church. It is not lawful to baptize or give communion without the consent of the bishop. On the other hand, whatever has his approval is pleasing to God. Thus, whatever is done will be safe and valid.⁴

From this text we see how inextricably intertwined are the authorities of the Church and the Word of God. Theirs is not a non-binding guardianship over Scripture. Rather, they have the shepherd’s authority to lead. Consider St. Ignatius’ claim that “whatever has [the bishop’s] approval is pleasing to God.” Of course St. Ignatius does not have in mind a bishop who invents novel doctrines that are contrary to the deposit of faith. But nor could he mean to say that whatever has the bishop’s approval is pleasing to God only insofar as the bishop is ruling in a way that is subordinate to and fully consistent with the Bible. Since one could say the same of the determinations of non-bishops (i.e., that their decisions are pleasing to God insofar as they conform to Scripture), this incorrect interpretation of St. Ignatius would leave the Bishop with no ruling authority at all.  A third way to view this question of final doctrinal decretal authority starts to emerge – the Church and revealed truth resolve controversies of religion together; they are the inseparable, final authority.

To take up just one other brief example, the works of St. Irenaeus provide a helpful perspective on this subject. St. Irenaeus, born in the early second century, speaks with great clarity in identifying what is a proper authority to settle controversies of religion. He does not teach that the Holy Spirit speaking in the Scripture is our final authority in controversies of religion, as the Westminster Confession claims. Rather, he says:

Since therefore we have such proofs, it is not necessary to seek the truth among others which it is easy to obtain from the Church; since the apostles, like a rich man depositing in a bank, lodged in her hands most copiously all things pertaining to the truth: so that every man, whosoever will, can draw from her the water of life. For she is the entrance to life; all others are thieves and robbers. On this account we are bound to avoid them, but to make choice of the things pertaining to the Church with the utmost diligence, and to lay hold of the tradition of the truth. For how stands the case? Suppose there arise a dispute relative to some important question among us, should we not have recourse to the most ancient Churches with which the apostles held constant intercourse, and learn from them what is certain and clear in regard to the present question? For how should it be if the apostles themselves had not left us writings? Would it not be necessary to follow the course of the tradition which they handed down to those to whom they did commit the Churches?⁵

For St. Irenaeus, “[t]he supreme judge by which all controversies of religion are to be determined” for the individual Christian is not the Holy Spirit speaking in Sacred Scripture. In cases of controversy of religion, we should “have recourse to the most ancient Churches with which the apostles held constant intercourse, and learn from them what is certain and clear in regard to the present question.” In helping to shed light on how to resolve a dispute about an important question among the Christians, St. Irenaeus argues from a hypothetical scenario wherein the Apostles had left us with no writings (that is, imagine if there was no New Testament by which to judge a matter). In that case, he argues, Christians would be left to turn to the traditions handed down by the Apostles to the most ancient Churches. Likewise, for disputes that persist even though all disputants have the Apostolic writings in hand, his argument concludes that we must “lay hold of the tradition of the truth,” which was passed on through the apostles.

These examples are from just two of the early Church Fathers, but each of them would support this recurring theme. These are not cherry-picked snippets from the early Church Fathers, but exemplary of early discourses on this question. And this question is one that came up routinely as the early Church struggled with settling the proper procedure necessary to address substantive theological debates in a binding fashion. We learn from the ancient Church that controversies of religion are resolved by ecclesial authorities expounding upon the Sacred Scriptures and Sacred Tradition together.

III. Catholic Teaching

There are noteworthy similarities between the Reformed and Catholic doctrines on Sacred Scripture. Both would agree that Sacred Scripture is the word of God.⁶ God is its author.⁷ He chose human authors, and inspired them to write what He wanted, and nothing more.⁸ The inspired books that make up the canon teach truth, and are truth without error.⁹ The Church venerates Scripture as she does the Body of Christ itself.¹⁰ In Scripture, “the Father who is in heaven comes lovingly to meet his children and talks with them.”¹¹ The concept of personal communication from God to believer in Scripture is not antithetical nor even foreign to a Catholic understanding. The Catholic Church’s teaching and the Westminster teaching coalesce even insofar as they teach that the Holy Spirit is our interpreter of Scripture.¹²

But there is certainly a difference between Protestants and Catholics when it comes to belief about Sacred Scripture, and this difference relates to the section of the Westminster Confession I began by quoting. The Catholic Church teaches that Christianity is not a “religion of the book,” but rather a religion of the Eternal Word, a “Word which is incarnate and living.”¹³ While the Holy Spirit interprets Scripture, He does so for the Church and through the Church, not in a private-yet-authoritative fashion.

This contrast highlights an essential feature of the Catholic Church. The Catholic Church does not believe that the Holy Spirit ordinarily operates directly and immediately in the heart of the individual Christian to teach Scripture and illuminate its meaning. If the Holy Spirit ordinarily operated in this way, the individual would not have need for the Church as a teaching agent of God. This view denies that Christ established a visible organ through which the Holy Spirit ordinarily operates. Such is the view of the Montanists. The Catholic Church, against Montanism, believes that Christ did establish a visible organ through which the Holy Spirit operates, including the key operation of illuminating revealed truths for the Church’s benefit so that she can, in turn, reliably and authoritatively teach the faithful.

In regard to the roles of the Church and Sacred Scripture in resolving controversies of religion, the Reformers seemingly had to reach the conclusion articulated in the Westminster Confession because they subscribed to a false dichotomy between the Scripture and the Church as the final doctrinal authority. For the Westminster Divines, and for Calvinists today, the starting point for analysis is that either the Magisterium or the Bible can settle controversies of religion, or bind upon believers a theological decree, opinion, or doctrine. It could not be both together because, they believe, any human agent cooperating with Scripture qua Word of God would compete with or detract from its Divine character.  (And it goes without saying that, for Calvinists, it could not be the Magisterium.)

According to the Catholic Church, all interpretations of Scripture — and we could say all attempts at resolving controversies of religion — are “subject to the judgment of the Church which exercises the divinely conferred commission and ministry of watching over and interpreting the Word of God.”¹⁴ While believers can and should read Sacred Scripture with great devotion, listening for the voice and guidance of the Holy Spirit while they do so, their conclusions are always subject to the guidance and correction of the Church’s teaching authority. Without Her divinely given authority, there is no safeguard on the deposit of faith from dilution and admixture of human or sinful error.

There is no middle ground between this divinely given authority of the Church to guide scriptural interpretation, on the one hand, and complete individualism in interpretation which leads to unceasing division, on the other. This is because the method dependent upon individual interpretation cannot compensate for the admixture of sinful error without resort to the Montanist’s view of the Holy Spirit’s action in guiding each individual’s interpretation of Scripture — a view which experience with diverse interpretations of Scripture betwixt the faithful, if nothing else, has proven invalid. The early Church Fathers saw the need for having resort to the Church’s teaching authority in settling controversies of religion, and they addressed this need time and again. It is this the Catholic Church sees today while it stands firm on its own teaching authority while simultaneously yearning for reunion with the separated eastern churches and Protestant ecclesial communities.

IV. Conclusion

The Westminster Confession’s claim that every controversy of religion, and every theological decree, opinion or doctrine is to be taken to none other than the Holy Spirit speaking in Scripture is ahistoric. The primary subject of the extant writings of the early Church Fathers is precisely controversies of religion; this is far from an alien topic to them. And the recurring answer they give is that controversies of religion are settled ultimately from the Church and Scripture in inseparable unison. Only this position allows for binding answers to disputes within the faith. The Catholic Church has held this position steadfastly through two millennia.

1. WCF, ch. I, sec. 10.
2. Robert Shaw, Exposition of the Westminster Confession, ch. 1, available here.
3. Letter to the Philadelphians, ch. 3, MG 5, 700; FC I, 114.
4. Letter to the Smyrnaeans, ch. 8, MG 5, 713; FC I, 121.
5. Against Heresies, bk. 3, ch. 4, MG 7, 855; ANFI, I, 416.
6. Catechism of the Catholic Church, para. 104.
7. Id., para. 105.
8. Id., para. 106.
9. Id., para. 107.
10. Id., para. 103.
11. Id., para. 104.
12. Id., art. 3, sec. III.
13. Id., para. 108, quoting St. Bernard, S. missus est hom. 4, 11: PL 183, 86.
14. Dei Verbum 12, sec. 3.

But a recent encounter with a “battle buddy” in the military reminded me how much this question had previously troubled me. My friend “Mike” considers himself Catholic. He was raised going to church and attended Catholic schools. But he does not attend mass on many weekends, and has not been to confession in years. He would not agree with the Church on the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist, or on her rejection of birth control, pornography, or masturbation as being morally licit.

At first blush, there appears to be a disconnect between Mike’s lifestyle and the Catholic teaching that real graces are received through the sacraments regardless of the state of the recipient. That is, if the Catholic sacramental teaching were true, one might reasonably anticipate that all recipients of the sacraments would show signs of being recipients of grace. Is the Catholic sacramental doctrine proven false by the prevalent reality of apostate Catholics?

This problem stopped bothering me after I entered the Church because I came to appreciate what the Church of Christ truly is. The Church is, first and foremost, a place for sinners seeking healing. It is a place for us who are afflicted with an interior moral leprosy. What the Catholic Church appreciates particularly well is that all sin has consequences, not just eternal, but temporal too. We have all heard a hurtful comment made at church before, and have seen the harm such comments can have. Our flaws and sins are so magnified by the beauty of faith.

So we should anticipate, and we in fact see, that when the Church gathers in local groupings of sinners, the waves of sin-consequences flow together into an upheaval, a confused sea. In the Church you see whole families falling away because of apathy toward the faith. You see people hurting people. This does not mean that grace is inactive; it means that our sinfulness is at times overwhelmingly substantial.

But you also see love conquering over sin in so many instances. You see the grace of God acting through His followers to touch suffering people who live in pitiable conditions. You see brilliant people walking away from certain worldly success to give themselves over to service. You see some of the closest families (often large families) pouring out love one to another in everything they do. These signs of hope give evidence of Christ’s efficacious graces flowing through the flock and tempering, eventually conquering sin in our lives.

Besides realizing that the Church was a place for sinners, and as such I should expect to see sinfulness in spite of the riches of grace available in the sacraments, there is another reason I stopped concerning myself about the inherent efficacy of the sacraments. The catechesis being done in Catholic homes – homes touched by the moral failings of western society in general – got lousy for a long time. Take Mike, for example, who does not even know that the Church still teaches from a Catechism.

This poor catechesis, this failing of parents and teachers, leaves the Church’s children in great peril of abandoning the faith even though they receive the sacraments. The children do not recognize what it is they are receiving (cf. 1 Corinthians 11:29). They do not recognize the snares of the world into which they walk. The lack of teaching also leaves a whole host of people self-describing as “Catholic” even though they have sacramentally removed themselves from the Church, self-made excommunicants. In this way the average American knows scads of “catholics,” but knows a much smaller number of faithfully practicing Catholics. This gives an exaggerated and undeserved perception that the Church’s sacraments are failing to live up to expectations.

Finally, the widespread apostasy of Catholic-raised men and women, in spite of their having received efficacious sacraments, is understood by looking at the Catholic teaching on free will. The Christian sacramental initiation is not a mystical vesting of salvation. That is, it does not give us the legal right to enter Heaven. If it did, St. Paul would not have referred to beating his body in order to make his “calling and election sure.” (2 Peter 1:10.) It would be a mistaken view of grace to see it as so powerful as to blow away our own sinful wills. Grace perfects nature, it does not commandeer it.

The lived reality in the Catholic Church is the complex and metaphysical interplay between man’s freedom to sin or pursue holiness; Satan’s and other evil spirits’ actual influence of men and women into evil practices; and God’s loving grace to bolster men and women in the face of these challenges. His grace is not simply dispositive in a way that robs us of our freedom, nor is it inadequate to allow us salvation. With the Catholic Church of the modern day in western nations, we see but one snapshot of what the complex interplay of good and evil with human freedom can look like.

We all sin so much, and our sins can so easily hurt the Church and those around us. The true shock, then, is not that the Catholic Church is so replete with sin, but that the Catholic Church holds together at all, preaching Christ and calling on His mother in every generation as “blessed.” May we not settle for apathy and disunity, but strive each and every day for vigilant holiness and sacramental unity.

An early 2009 Christianity Today contained a provocative article entitled Jesus Is Not A Brand. ¹  In it, the author, Rev. Tyler Wigg-Stevenson, analyzes the conflation of evangelism with sales marketing. He states:

The de-churched nature of our theology makes evangelism hard to do without seeming salesy, because churchless evangelism unavoidably promotes a consumerist soteriology. When it’s just you and Jesus, you (the consumer) “invite him” (the product) “into your heart” (brand adoption) and “get saved” (consumer gratification).²

While distinct from the central thesis of Wigg-Stevenson’s discussion, his painting of religious decisions in the light of the American consumerist mentality provides insight into the denominational marketplace as well. The reactions to Catholicism’s arguments that I have received from some of my more sympathetic Reformed brethren are understandable when viewed through the consumerist lens: “I would agree with them if it weren’t for their adoption of doctrine X,” or “I just can’t stomach the Catholic culture.”

A presumption in these conversations with my former co-denominationalists seems to be that I was impelled to enter the denominational marketplace by feelings of dissatisfaction with my former ecclesial selection. We happen to live in an era where many can be ‘choosers.’ As choosers, we approach the ecclesial buffet pondering what selection best fits our appetite for God. And being used to making choices catered to our particular predilections, we are (no doubt) hesitant to set our tastes to one side when choosing or re-choosing Church. As members of a chooser society, the idea of choice uninfluenced by taste seems foreign if not implausible. At least, this has been my experience when trying to convince people that a certain truth-claim or other gave me a conviction to become Catholic: they rejoin that actually I did it because I wanted something-or-other (or wanted away from something-or-other).

To use another analogy to describe the reactions I get when discussing Catholicism’s claims, some seem able to respect the reasons a minivan might meet my needs, but recognize that such an automobile would clearly fail to meet their own. A van’s fundamentals would be inadequate for the task at hand; it would be the wrong choice for them. Many may even think a minivan is the wrong choice for me (or anyone at all) despite my best judgment. But they are prepared to respect some positive aspects of the minivan, even if they believe its purchase is the wrong choice from the market.

The fallacy, I believe, is in conceptualizing the Church universal as invisible, containing visible market choices of varying merit. I did not leave a Reformed denominational ‘market choice’ because of deficiencies in the choice qua choice. The terms of that analysis are entirely wrong. I encountered truth-claims that conflicted with my denomination’s truth-claims, and which my denomination’s teachings could not resolve (most particularly, the Canon Question).

But under the Catholic paradigm, there simply is no denominational market choice to make. (And it would be good for all Catholics to realize this too.) For the consumer, minivans and station wagons are both types of automobiles. They both get passengers and cargo to a destination. Corn and rice from the buffet are both types of side dishes that can nourish the body. The market has less desirable choices, and even bad choices.  But if the Catholic ecclesiological model is true, there is no market.  Or under these analogies, the Catholic Church is the buffet, is the auto lot. She has choice and diversity, for sure, but all within her visible confines.

My challenge in explaining the claims of Catholicism and its critiques of the Protestant Reformation is in avoiding the impression that I simply find Catholicism preferable to competing choices such as the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA). This is a conclusion with which Presbyterians can quickly and readily disagree, without profit from having the conversation in the first place. Rather, to be productive, the discussion must accept or concede that Catholicism claims itself to be without market competitor, the one Church to which we are all called to be in communion.

1. Tyler Wigg-Stevenson, p. 20, Jan. 2009.
2. Id. at p. 22.

 The Minor Seminary: A Background

What is a minor seminary, anyway? Simply put, it is a boarding schoolhouse where young men from junior high school onward can conduct their schooling and spiritual growth in an environment that prepares them for post-secondary seminary studies. It does not obligate a young man to be ordained, or even to continue seminary at more advanced levels. Rather, it gives interested young men solid early formation while enjoying protection from the pressures and distractions of secular secondary education so that they can remain focused on what may be their blossoming vocation to the priesthood.

While these institutions had all but entirely died out in the English-speaking world, there are hints at a resurgence. The Institute of the Incarnate Word (IVE), a Catholic religious order, recently formed the Blessed Jose Sanchez del Rio Minor Seminary in Minnesota for boys in grades 7 to 12. The order already operates several minor seminaries overseas, and hopes to expand this effort in the English-speaking part of the Catholic Church.

Supernatural Call

As the IVE website notes, the minor seminary is a ‘good idea’ because “God calls who He wills when He wills.” This reveals something about the Catholic view of the calling to receive Holy Orders. God does not choose the individuals whom He wills to call in response to certain of a man’s intellectual accomplishments; God chooses these individuals in advance. Because of this, there is no reason to think that God would not begin some of His callings with young men. Indeed, many Catholic priests and seminarians describe experiencing their call to the priesthood even from their early youth. So Catholics should not ‘wait and see’ if a man turns out to seem worthy of ordination before investing in his formation, but rather should begin investing when a young man shows an interest.

The Reformed, and generally Protestant, view of the calling to the ministry does not necessarily conflict with the idea that God calls whom He wills when He wills. And the Reformed pastor will certainly tell you that his calling to the ministry was a supernatural one. But in practice, I think that most Reformed will reject the idea that a young man in his high school years has the intellectual capacity to receive, discern, or understand the call from God. But on the other hand, the average Reformed pastor likely would not have qualms with a seminarian’s claim that he has known since 12 or 14 years that he was called.

So, I think that the Catholic and Reformed views about God calling young men to ministry are not that distinct at a theoretical level. But at least in practice, if a young man approached his pastor or parents and said that he felt called to the ministry, our approaches differ. The Reformed might say, “I think that’s great,” but then probably would not take positive steps to foster this in any particular way. They would probably treat it similarly to a boy saying he had a sense he was meant to be a doctor – “That’s great, you’ll need to work hard at the appropriate age.” The Catholic, on the other hand, should say, “I think that’s great, and because this might be your calling, and because such a calling is so precious to the Church, we must take positive steps to foster it and to see to your proper spiritual and intellectual formation.” This is the first difference, then, that helped me to understand and appreciate how it is that the Catholic Church could send boys off to seminary.

Free Will, Free Response

The second particularly Catholic principle that helped me appreciate the concept of the minor seminary is the freedom of man to respond to God’s calling. The Catholic Church maintains that God has given man free will, and desires that man use this liberty for God’s greater glory. This belief percolates into our present discussion of vocational discernment because it places a burden upon Catholic adults to foster the young man’s potential vocation. Should a man show signs of being called, and we neglect to train him up properly, we leave him prone to abuse his freedoms and neglect God’s calling.

A common scenario is the family who waits until after their son finishes college before encouraging him to consider the priesthood. They want him to experience life a bit before making such a serious and permanent commitment. But in the process, he is heavily influenced and distracted by his secular experiences, leaving his vocation to wither. We have frustrated God’s calling by leaving the man’s free will floating in the waters of secular temptations or distractions.

The Reformed are less likely to view the operation of a young man’s free will like this. They will probably say that if God wills to call a particular man to the ministry, God will efficaciously carry out that will. In short, if the man becomes ordained, that was God’s will, and if the man does not become ordained, that was God’s will too. This unintentionally avoids the burden Catholics face, to foster a young man’s potential vocation lest he should miss his calling by abusing his free will.

Conclusion

The Reformed and Catholic beliefs about God’s “calling” about the priesthood or pastorate have far more in common than not. But only the Catholic Church operates minor seminaries to train young men for ordained ministry. We agree that God can call whom He wills when He wills, and probably even agree that God could begin this calling from a young age. While in practice, I think the Reformed are strained to see how a junior high school boy could perceive or receive such a significant calling from God, in principle there is no reason why they could not let this boy begin something similar to the minor seminary model, say to study ancient Greek from home. Let us help each other, especially the young among us, to be willing and ready to obey God’s call.