I hope to tell my story simply, because it is genuinely uncomplicated. Complex, yes. Multi-layered, sure. Who’s journey in the Christian faith isn’t? But I do promise to keep the telling of it simple by concentrating on the main catalysts that gave my wife Cindy and me the courage to approach the doors of the Catholic Church and with confidence begin to knock.

Jason and Cindy Stewart, after entering the Catholic Church

With that said, let me start this introduction by beginning at the ending. Cindy and I became Catholic because we came to see that the Catholic Church is the Church established by Jesus Christ. That is the reason. In truth, this reason should be the basic motivation for anyone seeking full communion with or remaining within the Catholic Church. All the thousands of otherwise good and important reasons for being Catholic pale in comparison with this fundamental truth of her divine origin. You see, if she is that City whose founder and builder is God, then we must live within her walls. Now I realize what I’ve written to this point does not satisfy the many, many questions — and objections — Protestant Christians may have in reading a story like mine. Most certainly not. But staying true to my promise not to complicate things, I’ve begun with the ending so as to make plain the reason from the beginning.

Because this is a ”conversion” piece you have the advantage of knowing that we didn’t always accept this profound claim about the divine origin of the Catholic Church. And therein lies the curiosity of our story. I was a Presbyterian minister and pastor in a conservative denomination. My theology was solidly Reformed, having been educated at a reputable Reformed institution known both for its orthodoxy and pastoral emphasis. As a pastor I was committed in my ministry to classical Reformed belief and practice. Even now I remain grateful for the Reformed faith, as you’ll see. So the question naturally is, what happened? What instigated our study of Catholicism? What moved us to have a change of heart about the Catholic faith?

Our decision to leave Presbyterianism for the Catholic Church surprised many. We can sympathize given that in the past we’d have been incredulous if told we’d be Catholic one day. And yet looking back now from our vantage point we can trace the trajectory that led us to full communion with the Catholic Church, and it’s a trajectory that progressed naturally and imperceptibly over time - a growing appreciation for the necessity and role of the visible Church; a deepening understanding of the sacramental nature of the Christian faith; the apostolic quality intrinsic to Church authority; the unique function of the Minister of the Gospel in the liturgy and life of the Church; the inescapable dynamic of tradition within the Christian Faith; and an increasing awareness of the implications of the adjectives “one” and ”catholic” as used by the Nicene Creed to identify the Church of Jesus Christ. Each of these areas of faith track back from where we are now as Catholics to where we were when Reformed. They prepared the way for us to give serious consideration to the Catholic faith when the time came.

It would be helpful here for me to begin listing the main catalysts that prompted us to engage the claims of the Catholic Church. After noting them, I’ll present each one on its own in order to explain how it contributed to effect our change of heart concerning Catholicism.

1. The positive principles of the Protestant Reformation.
2. The writings of the Church Fathers.
3. The nature of Church authority.

Having these three areas of study laid out before us, let me emphasize here the importance of the present website in prompting our journey toward the Catholic Church. Called To Communion was at first merely a pebble in my apparently well-tied Presbyterian church shoes. For the life of me I could not fathom how these men (most seminary trained) could leave the Reformed faith for Rome. A blend of curiosity, skepticism and concern (I knew one of the men personally) inclined me to try to understand what turned them Catholic. Over time CTC became for me a mountain that permitted no clearly designated detour around it to Geneva. Facing and answering these issues on a personal level were important to me as a pastor. I had to admit that the well-reasoned arguments from the contributors of the site were substantial enough that they could not be brushed off and ignored. So I began to investigate, assured that there were biblically, theologically, philosophically, historically satisfying Reformed answers to the challenges presented by CTC.

1. The positive principles of the Protestant Reformation.

Perhaps you’ve heard it said that the Protestant Reformation was a tragic necessity, something that needed to happen, painful as the consequences may have been. This was my view. My understanding was that the fundamental spirit of the solas of the Reformation were incompatible with the teachings of the Catholic Church. This incompatibility is what I believed compelled the Protestant reformers to dedicate all their energies to unburdening the Church of Jesus Christ from what they believed to be the weight of man-made, extra- or un-Scriptural traditions that had sapped the strength of apostolic Christianity to the point of near collapse. God’s glory and the true way of salvation had been effectively smothered in the Church by the theological inventions of Catholicism, so my thinking went.

As I began to dig down to the most foundational differences dividing Protestants and Catholic, the book The Spirit and Forms of Protestantism by Louis Bouyer was recommended to me. Bouyer was a Lutheran minister who converted to Catholicism mid-last century. I was already familiar with him and appreciated his work and insights on Christian liturgy but had paid little attention to his discussions on Catholicism. What piqued my interest now was the peculiar thesis of this one book. Bouyer claimed that the Catholic Church is necessary for the full flowering of the principles of the Reformation. Put differently – Protestantism needs Catholicism in order to become all it aspires to be, which, of course, if true means the Protestant Reformation was completely unnecessary. Worse, it means that the Reformation was impossible from the outset because the reformers had unwittingly cut themselves off from the only source that could make their vision fruitful. To my Reformed and Presbyterian ears this sounded more than strange. Given my understanding of Catholic teaching, Bouyer’s idea was akin to saying a terminal illness is integral to the full flowering of bodily health. Or a fire is best fueled by depriving it of oxygen. Or the growth of a plant is impossible without rooting it in infertile soil. In my mind, Bouyer’s absurdity had to be explained, so I picked up the book and read.

What I discovered in reading the work was that the author’s claim was well founded. He demonstrates this repeatedly chapter by chapter. He enthusiastically affirms the positive principles of the Reformation showing the reader that, understood properly, each principle has its natural home in the Catholic faith. He then proceeds to critique the more negative aspects of Reformation doctrine (e.g. sola scriptura) contending that these negatives in the course of time undermined Protestantism’s positive principles, eventually giving birth to the reality known as Protestant Liberalism. Without question, I cannot do justice to the potency of Bouyer’s work in just a paragraph or two. A reflex for Reformed Christians reading this would be merely to dismiss the argument of Bouyer’s work as absurd. Recall that such was my initial reaction too, which is why I encourage you to read the book for yourself and take seriously the thesis present in its pages. Suffice it to say, he is persuasive in arguing that the positive principles of the Protestant Reformation are not antithetical to the Catholic Church but rather draw their strength and vitality from her existence.

The material found in The Spirit and Forms of Protestantism suggested a possibility I had never explored. What if the beauty of my Reformed faith was in fact the reflection of an original beauty? Could it be that I as a Protestant was seeing the Christian faith through a glass darkly? I had to find out.

2. The writings of the Church Fathers.

Another subject for study in engaging Catholicism was the Church Fathers. Catholics regularly make the claim that these leaders of the early Church are Catholic. I had a renewed interest to test this claim. My sense was that it would be easily disproved. After all, the reformers themselves had been avid students of the Fathers, quoting them in their theological works with ease and without contradiction over against Catholic teaching, right?

Going into this I had to admit that my familiarity with the actual works of the Fathers was limited. Thumbing curiously through a random volume from Schaff’s Patristics collection or culling a quote from Ignatius or Augustine or reading a history of early doctrine text for seminary coursework exhausted my contact with these ancient Christian authors. I had known for a long time that the Church Fathers did not share my Reformed theological vocabulary. But such was to be expected, I guessed. The Protestant Reformation with its precise theological formulations was many centuries away when these men wrote. So what (my thinking went) if Irenaeus or Justin or Augustine didn’t sound exactly like our Reformed creeds and catechisms? Yet now in examining their writings I began to sense that indeed there was something more profound at work than a mere difference in expression or emphasis. Was the Catholic claim right? Continued reading suggested that the actual theological substance of the Fathers was different. Certainly the Fathers didn’t seem at odds with the positive elements of the Reformation. But I noticed in my reading that they thought differently than did the reformers. Their approach to the Christian faith took another route. They seemed to cut an early theological path that when traced did not exactly connect to the one blazed by the reformers in the 16th century. I began to consider whether a person would naturally pick up the distinctive trail of the Protestant Reformation if one started with the writings of the early Church? The answer increasingly seemed to be no.

I knew the reformers had explicitly rejected much of what I was finding in the Church Fathers.

Page after page revealed a common faith during that early period in which bishops succeeded Apostles, baptismal waters regenerated, bread and wine transformed, penance was necessary and salutary, purgatorial fire cleansed, the Blessed Virgin was an active Mother to the faithful, departed saints prayed, Peter held the Keys, and the Eucharist was a sacrifice for the living and the dead. There appeared in their minds no awareness of or concern for the cardinal doctrines of the Reformation so painstakingly spelled out as essential to the gospel. Actually…the Fathers sounded Catholic.

This was unexpectedly unsettling for me because no external argument(s) in favor of a Catholic reading of the Fathers had been made in conjunction with my reading of them. The writings themselves served to give voice to the arguments. The words on the page became the witness or opponent (depending on one’s perspective). I began to ponder whether a person would naturally pick up the trail of the Catholic Church if one started with the writings of the early Church? The answer increasingly seemed to be yes.

At this point someone could object that the Church Fathers were not Catholic. My question would be, what then were they? Most certainly they did not share the peculiar faith of the Protestant Reformation. While it is possible to place a non-Catholic interpretation upon carefully selected sentences and paragraphs from the Fathers, a sustained reading makes such an interpretation impossible to maintain. In reading them one discovers that they appear to be natives of the Catholic Church. Wrenching them out of their natural Catholic context is detrimental to both the power of their witness and the proper understanding of the inquiring reader.

My suggestion here is to take up and read the Church Fathers. Read them in context. Read all of them. Allow them to define their terms. Take them at their word. Yes, this is a time investment. And it requires an open mind. But if you devote yourself to reading them, your perspective on the early Church will be forever changed and enriched. At the very least I’m hopeful you’ll come to acknowledge that these churchmen were Catholic. Better yet, you may become convinced that these Fathers are authentic witnesses to apostolic Christianity.

3. The question of Church authority.

As a Presbyterian I believed that Jesus personally appointed twelve men to the office of Apostle and sent them to proclaim the gospel (Mark 3:13-19). In giving them this office he endowed it with his own divine authority to guarantee that they would faithfully transmit his words and works to others (Matt. 28:18-20). The character of their authority is seen in any number of statements Jesus made concerning them:

“And he said to them….’The one who hears you hears me, and the one who rejects you rejects me, and the one who rejects me rejects him who sent me’” (Lk. 10:16).

“‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you.’ And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you withhold forgiveness from any, it is withheld’” (John 20:21-22).

“And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven” (Matt. 16:17-18).

“Truly, I say to you, whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven” (Matt. 18:18).

Clearly such a position runs contrary to the way so many Christians believe today: Men have no divine authority, right? And yet, Jesus tells them that he is received or rejected in direct proportion to whether his Apostles are received or rejected. No man can forgive sins, right? And yet, Jesus gives them his authority to forgive sins. No man’s decisions are binding on believers, right? And yet, Jesus tells them that their Apostolic decisions will accomplish God’s will and obligate believers in faith and practice.

With this divinely bestowed authority, the Apostles were called and equipped by God to be the leaders of Jesus’ Church. They were chosen by him to head up an identifiable, organized assembly/community of his followers. Given the character of their unique role in the Church, it was necessary to be in communion with the Apostles of Christ in order to be a Christian — submitting to them, worshiping under their governance, receiving their teaching, etc. (Acts 2:42; 1 John 1:1-3). Faith involved submitting to a living authority — the Apostles. These Apostles had received and submitted themselves to Jesus Christ and his teachings, and those who heard these Apostles received and submitted themselves to them and to their teachings. By receiving and submitting to the Apostles and their message the early believers were receiving and submitting to Christ and his message. To be in the Church one had to accept the living, teaching voice of the Apostles because they alone were the unique bearers of Jesus’ authority and message. An individual or group could not abandon this Church headed by the Apostles and establish its own a few blocks over. This was the nature of Church authority in the earliest period of apostolic Christianity.

So I believed, and still believe.

In light of my burgeoning study of Catholicism, I began to ponder with renewed interest this biblical portrait of Church authority and how it related to my present experience as a Presbyterian – What was the nature of Church authority today? How did it relate to the Apostles? What happened then when the Apostles died? Did the Church abruptly cease to have a living authority to guide her? Was there no longer a living teaching voice to which believers must listen? Revisiting these basic questions in light of the Catholic Church proved enlightening.

My answer to such things in the past had been that the Apostles committed and transmitted their authority in written form through the inspired documents of the New Testament. Everything necessary for salvation and the Christian life had been captured in their surviving letters and writings. Submission to the Apostles and their teachings was then measured by submission to the Bible and its teachings. Yes, as a Presbyterian I recognized there were leaders in the Church to whom obedience was due (Heb. 13:17) — being a pastor, I was one of them — but obedience to such leaders was dependent on whether or not they themselves were obeying the voice of the Apostles in the writings of the New Testament. Like the noble Bereans, each believer was to evaluate their leaders and their teachings by the Bible. To use the words of the Westminster Confession of Faith, ”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.” This is known as the principle of sola scriptura.

Putting this doctrine through the theological, philosophical and historical paces in the hope it would bear up under close scrutiny was uncomfortable for me. My assumption had always been that it was unquestionably true. I had believed it since a child. Now I was going to give my best effort to examine the familiar teaching from an outside perspective in order to ask its basis.

Coming at the doctrine from a different point of view, I had to admit certain weaknesses in it that ultimately changed my thinking. Here’s what I saw. First, the Bible doesn’t teach the principle of sola scriptura. The Scriptures are an incomparable guide for the moral life of the Christian, but they nowhere claim to be a comprehensive source for doctrine, worship, and the government of the Church. Second, the Church Fathers don’t teach sola scriptura. The Fathers did not promote anything resembling a “Scripture alone” position but instead recognized the necessity and authority of the traditions handed down from the Apostles. Third, the “Bible-based” fragmentation of Protestantism argues against the soundness of sola scriptura. All claim to be following the Bible. All arrive at different understandings of what it teaches. With such variety what standard shall we use to determine who is correct? The Bible? Fourth, the fact that the individual Protestant’s private judgment remains the final authority in evaluating faith claims undermines the principle of sola scriptura. Each person chooses the church group that agrees with his interpretation of the Bible. If disagreements arise within the group, a person then stays or leaves based on whether his interpretation is embraced or rejected. If rejected, the individual searches for a new church group that is in agreement with his interpretation of the Bible. Thus the individual remains the final arbiter of what the Bible teaches. Fifth, the fact that the Apostolic letters and writings give no divinely inspired indication what books are to be included in the canon of the New Testament makes impossible the principle of sola scriptura. How can the Bible be the ultimate authority when its very content is uncertain? Catholics believe the divinely guided Church was necessary to define what books belong to the New Testament.

Now I haven’t walked you through the details of the arguments for these five conclusions, but I hope you follow the links to the articles on CTC that provide clear reasons for what I’ve suggested above.

In contrast to this “Scripture alone” position, the Catholic Church teaches that the Church, not the Bible, is the pillar and foundation of the truth (1 Tim. 3:15). That by divine design it is the Church that upholds and protects the truth of the gospel throughout the centuries. The doctrine of Apostolic succession means that Bishops as successors of the Apostles are enabled by the Holy Spirit in their sacred office to preserve the Apostolic deposit of faith against every kind of error, distortion and corruption. Jesus promised to guide and instruct the ordained leaders of the Church (Jn 14:25; 16:13). The Holy Spirit’s guidance is Christ’s guarantee that the shepherds of his Church will never tamper with, pervert, or misunderstand the gospel. This is known formally as the Catholic doctrine of magisterial infallibility — the pope alone or the pope and the bishops in union with him are divinely protected from teaching error when they define matters pertaining to faith and morals.

As I studied this subject of Church authority, I began to see that the Catholic doctrine of Apostolic succession naturally connected to the biblical portrait of Church authority as it existed in the days of the Apostles. The Church wasn’t bereft of a living teaching authority when the Apostles died because these Apostles appointed qualified men to succeed them in the office of bishop, transmitting by succession a full share in the Apostolic authority so essential to the preservation and proclamation of the Apostolic deposit of faith. It became clear to me that the Bible and Church history confirm and corroborate this important teaching of the Catholic Church. Jesus gave us a Church with a book, not a book with a Church.

Conclusion

Let me begin this conclusion by ending at the beginning: My wife Cindy and I entered into full communion with the Catholic Church because we came to see that this Church is the Church established by Jesus Christ. We came to this realization in large measure by spending time in the Catechism of the Catholic Church, reading other positive presentations of Catholic teaching, and speaking with flesh and blood Catholics in all walks of life and vocations. The many misconceptions we had about what Catholics believed were cleared away as we dug deeply into the teaching resources of the Catholic Church and talked with actual Catholics. We began to recognize that all the Church taught and claimed was verified and confirmed in the Bible, by history, and in the lives of the saints. Over time we came to understand that the Catholic Church represents the fullness of what Christ wanted to reveal to his people; that it possesses all the gifts that our Lord wanted us to have; and that the Church in its liturgy, its apostolic teaching, the Eucharist, the sacraments, and its saints, serves as the definitive place where God’s grace is on full offer. The reason being — it is the Church of Jesus Christ most fully and rightly ordered through time. Yes, unquestionably a profound claim. But it is the one made by the Catholic Church in all ages, and it is the claim we have come to accept.

This is your invitation to test and see. I assure you that there is no lack of evidences for her divine origin. Such are openly verifiable and abundant. One need only the willingness to discern them. Whatever my personal story may be, the proof of the Catholic Church’s divine origin resides in the realm of history. The evidences are public, out there for you to examine. You are not at the mercy of my personal judgments concerning this claim about the Catholic Church. Instead you are free to investigate the facts of the Church’s perduring existence, her miraculous life, her divine teachings, the abiding fruit of her mission in the world from the time of Christ even down to our present day. The clues are all there; they await you. You need only begin to pursue them.

Stephen Beck was raised Evangelical, but read his way into the Reformed world. He became a member of the Orthodox Presbyterian Church and then the Presbyterian Church in America. Stephen and his family were received into the Catholic Church on the Easter Vigil of 2011 at St. Andrew’s by the Bay Catholic Church in Annapolis, Maryland. He has a Master’s degree from St. John’s College in Annapolis and is currently pursuing a Ph.D. in Greek and Latin at the Catholic University of America. Stephen is a brilliant thinker with a deep love for Jesus Christ and the Catholic Church. In this episode, Stephen’s personal friend and regular CTC contributor, Jeremy Tate, interviews him to find out the reasons behind his conversion.

Right click here to save the MP3 file.

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.

For Michael the film is fundamentally about nature and grace. Toward the beginning of the film, the narrator defines the terms ‘nature’ and ‘grace’ in the following way, as Michael describes:

Toward the beginning—I think it may be the opening spoken lines, the narrator says that “there are two ways through life, the way of nature and the way of grace.” “Nature is willful, it only wants to please itself, to have its own way.” On the other hand, “grace” is “smiling through all things.” According to the way of grace, “the only way to be happy is to love.”

It is very important to note that these are not the Catholic definitions of these terms. In Catholic theological anthropology, human nature is not selfish or sinful; human nature is good. Christ received our human nature, and yet was without sin. Moreover, even at the level of human nature, the only way to be truly happy (with the natural happiness proportional to man’s nature) is to love both God and neighbor. That is, even if God had not given grace to Adam and Eve prior to the Fall, their happiness would still have required love for and justice to God as their Creator, and love for and justice to each other. Religion is a natural virtue, pertaining fundamentally and first to human nature, for we know by nature that our Maker is due adoration and gratitude. By nature mankind is inclined to worship his Creator, and this religious disposition has been present in every culture, even when it has been distorted through ignorance and sin. Grace does not destroy religion, but perfects, informs, and elevates it. Hence grace is not opposed to the natural virtue of religion. (Cf. “Angels trapped in stinkin’ flesh.”) Similarly, because man is naturally a social animal, virtuous friendship is necessary for natural human happiness, on account of human nature. Even by nature alone we are happier when we pursue the common good, than when we focus only on our own well-being.¹

Some Reformed Christians think Catholic anthropology makes nature evil because in Catholic theology some additional divine gift (over and above the gift of human nature itself) is necessary to ameliorate what the Catholic tradition calls ‘concupiscence, i.e. a disordered inclination toward sin.’ (Cf. CCC 2515, 1264) In other words, the Reformed argument is that since concupiscence is a flaw or defect, and since Catholic theology maintains that without an additional gift (called ‘integrity’) from God, humans will have concupiscence, therefore Catholic theology treats human nature as inherently flawed or defective. It is worth pointing out in reply first that in Catholic theology concupiscence is not the absence of grace. Since the Fall of Adam and Eve, all those who come to living faith have grace in their hearts, and yet they still have concupiscence. Concupiscence is due to the absence of the preternatural gift of integrity, which is one of three preternatural gifts. (See Fr. Hardon’s explanation of the preternatural gifts.) This preternatural gift of integrity is shown to be not intrinsic to human nature by the fact that otherwise we could not lose it without ceasing to be human. But Adam did not cease to be human when he sinned, nor are we a different species from Adam.

Why is integrity not intrinsic to human nature? Because man is both body and soul, and matter by its nature cannot be intrinsically ordered to the good as such, as reason is. That inability is not a defect in matter; it is merely a natural limitation of matter. For example, arrows are not naturally ordered to their target, but this is not a defect or imperfection in arrows. Similarly, not being the Creator is not a defect or imperfection in creatures; it is a limitation that necessarily accompanies being a creature. So likewise, not being intrinsically ordered to the good as such is not a defect or imperfection in matter; it is merely an intrinsic limitation of matter. And therefore the need for the preternatural gift of integrity, in order for there to be no concupiscence, is not an indication that human nature is imperfect or flawed.²

Michael knows that the film narrator’s way of defining nature and grace is not the Catholic way of defining these terms, but he does not point this out, or explain how nature and grace are distinguished in Catholic theology. He writes:

Basically, the nature-grace thing is told with a pretty Roman Catholic twist, too. Malick, who was raised in the Bible belt (interestingly, Waco), attended an Episcopal school and went on to study philosophy at Harvard and Oxford (Magdalen College, with philosopher Gilbert Ryle as his supervisor). Reformed theologians have been tweaking Roman Catholic tails for some time now over the way in which the latter seems to turn everything into a nature-grace instead of a sin-grace problem. Briefly put, Rome teaches that grace elevates or perfects nature, raising it from its imperfect natural state into a supernatural condition. A perennial Reformed objection is that this makes nature—creation—inherently flawed and demands that it becomes something other than what God created it to be in order to be truly “good.” And that also means that grace is the infusion of divine goodness and love into the soul, to raise the creature from being trapped in earthly (material) things.

Let’s see if we can get to the bottom of this ‘tweaking,’ as he puts it. The distinction between nature and grace is not the distinction between sin and grace. They are two different distinctions, precisely because nature is not sin; that would be Manicheanism. And it is quite possible that the dualistic philosophy Michael perceives in the film is a kind of Manicheanism. But the Catholic distinction between nature and grace is not Manichean dualism. To deny the distinction between nature and grace is to deny the Creator-creature distinction, because grace is a participation in the divine nature. (2 Peter 1:4. cf. Summa Theologica Q.110 a.2.) Since Michael believes that grace is undeserved divine favor in response to human sin, and that nature is what God created, Michael himself does not believe that nature is grace. Of course Michael believes that everything God has created is an undeserved gift. But he does not believe that God’s undeserved divine favor toward us in response to sin is the same thing as human nature. So, we’re agreed at least that nature and grace are not the same thing. And therefore Michael gains no advantage in pointing out that the Catholic Church distinguishes between nature and grace, since he too distinguishes between them.

Michael, however, seems to think that in Catholic theology there is only a nature-grace problem, not a sin-grace problem. But in fact, if Adam and Eve had never sinned, they could not have entered into heaven without grace. Claiming otherwise leads to Pelagianism, as Barrett Turner explained in “Pelagian Westminster?.” The problem with Pelagianism is not fundamentally a sin problem; it is that heaven is infinitely above our human nature, and we cannot attain that supernatural end without grace. But that does not mean that there is not a sin problem in the post-Fall condition. Yes, there is a sin problem, and that is why Christ came, to make atonement for our sins. (cf. “Catholic and Reformed Conceptions of the Atonement.”) But we do not have to choose between a Pelagian notion of salvation prior to the Fall, and a denial of the Fall. Hence we can affirm both a nature-grace ‘problem’ and a sin-grace ‘problem.’ And these two problems interpenetrate in our human history, because Adam, by sinning, both forfeited the grace he had been given, and incurred a debt of punishment he could not pay. Hence we not only need grace, as Adam and Eve did before the Fall, we also need forgiveness, which they would not have needed had they not sinned.

When Michael says, “Briefly put, Rome teaches that grace elevates or perfects nature, raising it from its imperfect natural state into a supernatural condition” he makes “imperfect” the antithesis of “supernatural.” But that’s not a justified assumption. Not to be in a supernatural condition, is to be in a natural condition, not necessarily an imperfect condition. That grace perfects what is imperfect does not entail that grace only perfects what is imperfect. Prior to the Fall, Adam and Eve were not imperfect or flawed, and yet prior to the Fall they needed grace in order to attain the beatific vision.³ The fact that the creature is not by nature proportionate to seeing the inner Life of God is not a “flaw” or “imperfection” in the creature; it is a necessary result of the Creator-creature distinction. Creatures are finite; God is infinite. God alone has the beatific vision by His nature; man does not have the beatific vision by his [i.e. man's] nature. And that is why man can attain the beatific vision only by a gratuitous divine gift in addition to our nature. In order for creatures to enter into the divine Life of the Holy Trinity, those creatures must be elevated by being made partakers of the divine nature (2 Peter 1:4). To deny that is either to reduce the divine nature to the level of creatures, or to elevate man’s nature to the very nature of God, and thus deny the Creator-creature distinction.⁴

As for Michael’s claim that the Catholic doctrine of grace “demands that [nature-creation] become something other than what God created it to be in order to be truly ‘good,’” this is a misunderstanding on Michael’s part. In Catholic doctrine, everything is good according to its nature. But, only God is Goodness itself, from which everything else derives its goodness, as Jesus taught in St. Mark 10:18 and St. Luke 18:19. The goodness of a creature is not equivalent to the goodness of God. To be elevated by grace is not [necessarily] to go from not good, to good; it can be (as it was when God bestowed grace on Adam and Eve and all the angels, prior to any sin) an infinite elevation from a natural finite good, to a participation by that creature in the divine nature which is infinite Goodness. But that elevation does not destroy man, or make him something other than what God made him to be. Grace does not distort, negate, corrupt or obliterate nature. Grace elevates nature while preserving nature, and this elevation was something God planned all along. From the beginning He made man with the purpose of bringing man into the fullness of perfect communion in agape with the three divine Persons of the most Holy Trinity.⁵

When Michael says, “And that also means that grace is the infusion of divine goodness and love into the soul, to raise the creature from being trapped in earthly (material) things,” he seems to be implying that believing in infused grace entails a kind of gnoticism in which humans are pure spirits trapped in earthly bodies. One problem with this claim, for Michael, is that Reformed theology also believes in infused grace for sanctification. (If I don’t say that, JJS will have an embolism; see comment #621 and following.) But, regardless of the Reformed position on the infusion of grace for sanctification, it simply does not follow from the proposition “God infuses grace into human hearts for salvation” that therefore “humans are spirits trapped in earthly bodies.” We are by nature rational animals, but Christ in His gratuitous benevolence and mercy has condescended to give to us through the sacraments He established in His Church a participation in His divine Life. This is what eternal life is, a participation in the supreme happiness that is God’s own Life.⁶ That we are given this divine gift does not imply that we are mere spirits, or that we are not animals. One does not have to be an angel in order to receive through infusion a participation in the divine life.

Next Michael writes:

Something of this almost dualistic view of nature and grace forms the philosophical backbone of this story.

That might be so, but the Catholic teaching concerning nature and grace is not dualistic. It does not deny our embodiedness. We receive the grace of Christ through material sacraments precisely because we are animals; this is why sacraments are necessary for our salvation. (Cf. Summa Theologica III Q.61 a.1.) Grace builds on nature, and elevates it; grace is not opposed to nature, and does not destroy nature. So we do not have to choose between nature and grace. We choose between nature-without-grace and nature-with-grace. Nor is it dualistic to affirm the distinction between good and evil, between God and creature, or between what the Didache describes as the way of life and the way of death.

Michael next writes:

I’m going to go out on a limb here, but it’s provoked by the film itself. Intentional or not, the movie exhibits some of the deep ontological flaws in Roman Catholic theology. It’s not just a doctrine here or there, but a worldview in which nature tends toward evil and grace, rather than being God’s favor toward sinners on account of Christ, is a cosmic-metaphysical substance infused into the world to make it, well, less worldly.

It is strange to hear a Calvinist blame “Roman Catholic theology” for believing that nature tends toward evil. Among possible rejoinders that refer to the ‘T’ in TULIP, I wish only to point out that the shoe is on the other foot.⁷ Michael apparently disapproved of the film’s portrayal of nature, but instead of allowing the film’s portrayal of nature to challenge or revise his Calvinistic conception of fallen human nature, he seemingly projected his own theology of fallen nature onto the Catholic Church, and then accused this theology of “deep ontological flaws.”

The Catholic conception of nature is not that nature tends toward evil. All creatures are by nature and providence ordered to their Creator, who is the Good.⁸ Nor in Catholic doctrine is grace a “cosmic-metaphysical substance.” Grace is not a substance at all, but a participation in the divine nature.⁹

Lastly, he writes:

The nature-father vs. grace-mother business is underscored also by the powerful, arbitrary, and destructive forces of cosmic evolution in the stunning vignettes scattered throughout. At least in a lot of popular Roman Catholic devotion, Mary is larger-than-life, like the mother in this film. Wrapped in eternal light with angels in an assumption-like scene, the mother says, “I give you my son.” This is rather different from the biblical gospel, where the Father is the one who “so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son….”

Michael treats the nature-father vs. grace-mother antithesis as though that is either a Catholic teaching or is at least implied by the Catholic distinction between nature and grace. But it should not be necessary to point out that Catholic theology in no way pits grace against nature, or God the Father against Mary, or identifies God the Father with [fallen] nature. God created nature and it is good.

God chose Mary to be the means by which He would send His Son into the world, so that we might be redeemed through Him. Grace therefore comes to us from God the Father, since He sent Christ. But at the same time, and without any contradiction or competition, grace comes to us through Mary, precisely because grace comes to us from Christ, and Christ comes to us from Mary. The notion that nature-is-evil-and-opposed-to-grace, which Michael took away from the film, is not Catholic, but Marcionite. In Marcionite theology, the Father of Jesus is not the Creator of nature, and therefore the grace that comes from Jesus is placed in opposition to nature. But it was the Church at Rome that excommunicated Marcion around AD 144.¹⁰ Catholicism is not Marcionism. If Malick’s Tree of Life contains a Marcionite theology of nature and grace, this should not be mistaken for (or assumed to be) the Catholic doctrine of nature and grace.

Catholicism is known for its both-ands, and here too, in Michael’s closing line he presents what for Catholics is a false dilemma. He points out that in the film, the mother says, “I give you my son.” That is different from the Biblical gospel, he claims, in which it is God the Father who gives us His Son. But why does Michael see these as at odds? The Church Fathers teach that Christ is eternally begotten of the Father, and in time begotten of the Virgin Mary. From God the Father He receives His divine nature, and from Mary He receives His human nature. Did Mary not give permission for the shepherds to adore her Son at the stable in Bethlehem? Did the Magi barge their way in, against her will? Or did the baby Jesus rise up and bid them to bow before Him? Surely not. She gave her Son to them then, and later to the whole world when she stood at the foot of the cross.¹¹

The notion that Christ cannot also be Mary’s gift (or should not also be thought of as Mary’s gift) is a form of docetism that abstracts Jesus from Mary as His maternal source and from the Holy Family. I know that Michael is not a docetist, but there is no good reason for anyone who affirms orthodox Christology to dismiss or disparage the notion that Christ comes to us from Mary, and that Mary, as His Mother, also gave Christ to the world. Marcionism seeks to disconnect Christ from matter, from Eden, and from the Creator. It is precisely in Mary that the Marcionite heresy is defeated, not only because Mary as the Daughter of Zion shows Christ to be the Son of David and the Seed of the Patriarchs, and not only because Mary as the Second Eve shows Christ to be the Redeemer promised in the Garden by the Creator, but also because from Mary and in Mary the natural (i.e. human nature) and supernatural (i.e. divine nature) were made one in the eternal Person of Christ. Mary thus safeguards the truth that the God who made nature is the same God from whom we receive grace.¹²

1. See, for example, books 8 and 9 of Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics. More could be said here, especially in relation to Ayn Rand’s notion of the ‘virtue’ of selfishness.
2. Cf. “Aquinas and Trent: Part 7.”
3. Cf. “Pelagians Westminster?.”
4. See Lawrence Feingold’s The Natural Desire to See God According to St. Thomas Aquinas and His Interpreters, (Sapientia, 2010).
5. See Daniel Keating’s Deification and Grace.
6. Cf. “The Gospel and the Meaning of Life.”
7. For example, see Francis Schaeffer’s Escape from Reason for a Reformed critique of St. Thomas Aquinas for allegedly failing to recognize sufficiently the fallen nature of man’s intellect. In “Aquinas and Trent: Part 3” I explain the four wounds of nature resulting from sin, according to St. Thomas.
8. See, for example, what St. Thomas says in the Summa Theologica regarding “Whether the End of the Government of the World is Something Outside the World.”
9. See “Summa Theologica I-II Q.110 a.2.
10. See “Marcionites.”
11. Cf. “Mary as Co-Redemptrix.”
12. See Lux Veritatis, written on the 1500th anniversary of the Council of Ephesus.

His Holiness Pope Pius XI
Visible Vicar of Christ
in the Visible Church of Christ

I find it noteworthy that His Holiness speaks against a kind of ecclesiology that identifies itself a “federation” since the Latin foedus is often translated “covenant” as in “covenant community” – a phrase commonly employed by Presbyterian to describe the Church of Christ. Catholics don’t deny that the Catholic Church is a “covenant community” but it’s 100 times more than that! It’s also noteworthy, that so-called “high-church” Presbyterians have to lean on terms like “federal vision” since they have a faulty ecclesiology but a willingness to say that it’s more than a mere voluntary association.

Enough rambling. Here’s the meat of Pope Pius’ argument. I hope that you’ll also notice and respect the biblical theology montage that the Holy Father paints for us regarding the visibility of the one and only true Church of Jesus Christ:

Further, We believe that those who call themselves Christians can do no other than believe that a Church, and that Church one, was established by Christ; but if it is further inquired of what nature according to the will of its Author it must be, then all do not agree. A good number of them, for example, deny that the Church of Christ must be visible and apparent, at least to such a degree that it appears as one body of faithful, agreeing in one and the same doctrine under one teaching authority and government; but, on the contrary, they understand a visible Church as nothing else than a Federation, composed of various communities of Christians, even though they adhere to different doctrines, which may even be incompatible one with another.

Instead, Christ our Lord instituted His Church as a perfect society, external of its nature and perceptible to the senses, which should carry on in the future the work of the salvation of the human race, under the leadership of one head,[4] with an authority teaching by word of mouth,[5] and by the ministry of the sacraments, the founts of heavenly grace;[6] for which reason He attested by comparison the similarity of the Church to a kingdom,[7] to a house,[8] to a sheepfold,[9] and to a flock.[10]

This Church, after being so wonderfully instituted, could not, on the removal by death of its Founder and of the Apostles who were the pioneers in propagating it, be entirely extinguished and cease to be, for to it was given the commandment to lead all men, without distinction of time or place, to eternal salvation: “Going therefore, teach ye all nations.”[11]

In the continual carrying out of this task, will any element of strength and efficiency be wanting to the Church, when Christ Himself is perpetually present to it, according to His solemn promise: “Behold I am with you all days, even to the consummation of the world?”[12] It follows then that the Church of Christ not only exists to-day and always, but is also exactly the same as it was in the time of the Apostles, unless we were to say, which God forbid, either that Christ our Lord could not effect His purpose, or that He erred when He asserted that the gates of hell should never prevail against it.

5. Mark xvi, 15.

6. John iii, 5; vi, 48-59; xx, 22 seq; cf. Matt. xviii, 18, etc.

7. Matt. xiii.

8. cf. Matt. xvi, 18.

9. John x, 16.

10. John xxi, 15-17.

11. Matt. xxviii, 19.

Three years ago, a few friends of mine (including Sean Patrick of Called to Communion) were lamenting that there wasn’t a book that reexamined the Protestant claims about Saint Paul from a Catholic point of view. What we wanted was a book that demonstrated the “Catholic Perspective on Paul.” So I set to work on it. After three years, it’s finally finished and published…The Catholic Perspective on Paul.

If you’re looking for a complete and simple resource to equip you with the Catholic presentation of Paul’s view of salvation, faith and works, baptism, the Eucharist, the sacraments, the priesthood, celibacy, and redemptive suffering, then this new book is for you.

The Catholic Perspective on Paul intends to show once and for all that Saint Paul was thoroughly Catholic, and that Protestant and liberal prejudices against the Catholic perspective on Paul are unwarranted. If we read Paul in his words, we find none other than the great Catholic Apostle of Rome.

You can preview the book for free at amazon.com.

Please watch the book’s trailer on YouTube to get a feel for the book:

Both the new book on Saint Paul and my previous book The Crucified Rabbi: Judaism and the Origins of Catholic Christianity are available at amazon.com in paperback and Kindle formats. Please click here to view them.

To download the mp3, click here.

Within years of the 1930 Lambeth Conference, where Anglicans became the first Christian group to officially approve the use of contraceptives, contraception came to be viewed as an unquestionable human right even by many conservative Protestants. And it’s understandable from a pragmatic point of view. It can be a difficult issue for pastors to dictate what ought and ought not happen in the bedroom affairs of their parishoners. But lately, I’ve seen a few Reformed pastors thinking about the issue out loud and coming to some negative conclusions about the practice of artificial birth control.

Tim Baly took on the topic in conjunction with RU486 “medical” abortions last year, and more recently Doug Wilson chimed in with a video explaining his thoughts on the subject. Tim Challies has also weighed in with a two-part post on contraception here and here.

What Do Today’s Reformed Pastors Say?

All three come down pretty hard on the birth-control pill because of its abortifacient potential, though Wilson doesn’t mention the pill by name, he does refer to the command against destroying life as prohibiting the use of birth-control methods that work by abortifacient means. For those unfamiliar with the issue, the pill works by making the womb inhospitable to a pregnancy. If conception does take place, it becomes very difficult for the brand new baby to attach to the walls of the uterus and begin its gestation. In essence, the baby, only a few cells big, would starve to death.

There is no solid medical evidence that this does actually happen, but the manufacturers of the pill acknowledge it as a possibility in the instructions that come with the drugs. But even if the chance is remote, Christians have no place putting the lives of their children in jeopardy and I applaud these Reformed pastors for taking a stand against it for that reason.

Though Baly doesn’t weigh in on barrier methods of contraception, like condoms, both Wilson and Challies seem to find such methods acceptable provided the reasons are within the range they consider reasonable. Their criteria tend to center around Scripture’s repeated insistence that children are a blessing and a gift of God, that they are to be desired and treasured, not avoided for personal gain or ease.

Thus, Wilson states that a newly married couple avoiding children so they can make more money are in a problematic situation, while the couple with seven kids who are using contraception to postpone a pregnancy for a short time are doing just fine.

This seems to be a pretty common line in Reformed Christianity. The pill is perhaps to be avoided, but contraception in and of itself is not morally wrong, largely because Scripture does not say it is. Wilson’s video cites a fear of putting undue, Pharisaical burdens on people and Jim Jordan cites the same concern elsewhere.

If contraception other than the pill is considered wrong by modern Reformed theologians, it is not because of the nature of the act itself, but rather the motivations behind it.

What Does the Scripture Say?

Scripture is, of course, notoriously silent on contraception, at least in explicit terms. The go-to passage is the sin of Onan in Genesis 38—the only passage that explicitly mentions contraception. But I, along with many scholars on both sides of the Tiber, find this passage insufficient for building a case against contraception by itself.

Onan’s brother died and he married his brother’s wife according to the law in order to provide her with heirs. But instead of doing that, Onan practiced coitus interruptus and spilled his seed on the ground, thus affording him sexual pleasure and releasing him from the obligation to take care of any children the union might produce. For this, Onan was struck dead by the Lord.

Many argue that Onan’s sin was not spilling his semen per se, but rather the avoidance of his vowed duty to produce heirs for his sister-in-law. This does seem to be the case and for that reason I think the passage is not capable, on its own, of providing Christians with an air-tight ban on contraception. But, fortunately, the passage is not on its own. But more about Onan in a moment.

What Did the Reformers Say?

It should be noted that the Reformers stood united with the rest of the Christian tradition in opposing all forms of contraception. Indeed, as noted above, no Christian group of any kind approved of contraception till the early 20th century.

It is interesting to note that both Calvin and Luther did see enough evidence in Onan’s sin to condemn contraception outright, but I believe that is because both were steeped in the Catholic understanding of natural law.

Calvin had this to say in his commentary on Genesis:

It is a horrible thing to pour out seed besides the intercourse of man and woman. Deliberately avoiding the intercourse, so that the seed drops on the ground, is double horrible. For this means that one quenches the hope of his family and kills the son, which could be expected, before he is born. This wickedness is now as severely as is possible condemned by the Spirit, through Moses, that Onan, as it were, through a violent and untimely birth, tore away the seed of his brother out the womb, and as cruel as shamefully has thrown on the earth. Moreover he thus has, as much as was in his power, tried to destroy a part of the human race. When a woman in some way drives away the seed out the womb, through aids, then this is rightly seen as an unforgivable crime. Onan was guilty of a similar crime. (Calvin’s Commentary on Genesis, vol. 2, part 16)

And Luther had this to say in his commentary on Genesis:

“[T]he exceedingly foul deed of Onan, the basest of wretches . . . is a most disgraceful sin. It is far more atrocious than incest and adultery. We call it unchastity, yes, a sodomitic sin. For Onan goes in to her—that is, he lies with her and copulates—and, when it comes to the point of insemination, spills the semen, lest the woman conceive. Surely at such a time the order of nature established by God in procreation should be followed. Accordingly, it was a most disgraceful crime. . . . Consequently, he deserved to be killed by God. He committed an evil deed. Therefore, God punished him” (Luther’s Commentary on Genesis)

Why the Disconnect?

I believe the disconnect we see between the Reformers and their theological descendants stems from the implications of sola Scriptura that the Reformers didn’t see.

The ecclesial chaos caused by every man being his own arbiter of spiritual truth led, slowly, to the 1930 Lambeth Conference allowing for married couples to use contraception in extreme circumstances. Thus, the ancient teaching of the Church on this subject was breeched by a small exception. As is nearly always the case with such breeches, a small exception was soon opened into the wide corridor we now see where no institution as a whole will decry contraception as an objective evil except the Catholic Church.

The reason the Catholic Church is able to take such a stand is because of its view of Sacred Tradition as another sure source of knowledge of the things of God. If the sin of Onan leaves us unsure on whether or not contraception is forbidden by God, we need not despair or decide that forbidding contraception would be a Pharisaical burden, like Wilson and Jordan. The opening paragraph of the 4th Session of the Council of Trent put it this way:

The sacred and holy, ecumenical, and general Synod of Trent,–lawfully assembled in the Holy Ghost, the Same three legates of the Apostolic Sec presiding therein,–keeping this always in view, that, errors being removed, the purity itself of the Gospel be preserved in the Church; which (Gospel), before promised through the prophets in the holy Scriptures, our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, first promulgated with His own mouth, and then commanded to be preached by His Apostles to every creature, as the fountain of all, both saving truth, and moral discipline; and seeing clearly that this truth and discipline are contained in the written books, and the unwritten traditions which, received by the Apostles from the mouth of Christ himself, or from the Apostles themselves, the Holy Ghost dictating, have come down even unto us, transmitted as it were from hand to hand; (the Synod) following the examples of the orthodox Fathers, receives and venerates with an equal affection of piety, and reverence, all the books both of the Old and of the New Testament—seeing that one God is the author of both—as also the said traditions, as well those appertaining to faith as to morals, as having been dictated, either by Christ’s own word of mouth, or by the Holy Ghost, and preserved in the Catholic Church by a continuous succession.

In Sacred Tradition we have a sure guide because the Tradition has its roots in Christ Himself and its protection from error from the promises of Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit through the Apostolic Succession of bishops in union with the Roman Pontiff. So when we have an issue like contraception, which the Tradition of the Church has taught us is a moral evil from the time of the Apostles, we can know that this tradition is a reliable guide and not the mere opinion of men.

If we follow the model of sola Scriptura, where every man is his own interpreter and Scripture is the only available means of sure knowledge of morality, it’s only a matter of time until someone decides that it’s easier to give up the fight on contraception. The same thing has happened with a number of the Church’s teachings, such as those on divorce and remarriage, female clergy and homosexuality. Without the sure defense of the Spirit-guided Magesterium of the Catholic Church, compromise is inevitable.

So What’s the Big Deal About Contraception Anyway?

In an era where nearly every other Christian group has approved at least some method of contraception, why does the Catholic Church continue to oppose it so strenuously? The reason is simple: God created the sexual act with the three-fold purposes of procreation, the unifying of the couple and pleasure. To remove any one of these elements from the sexual act is to pervert it into something other than what God intended it to be. To remove the life-giving potential of the sexual act is to change its nature.

What makes a sexual act licit or illicit is whether or not it is performed in accordance with God’s design for sexual activity. Homosexual acts are illicit because God designed sex to be between a man and a woman. Adultery and fornication between a man and a woman are illicit because God intended sex to be between a married man and woman. Rape is illicit because God designed sexual union to be entered into willingly. Contraceptive sex acts are illicit because God designed sex to produce children.

When the procreative aspect of the sexual act is removed, the act takes on a different nature than it had when procreation was a possibility. As Pope John Paul II pointed out in his Theology of the Body talks, the couple engaging in contraceptive sex is lying with their bodies. The body is saying, “I am giving you the gift of my whole self,” but one of the most incredible gifts spouses can give to each other, their reproductive capacity, is being withheld. The act becomes primarily about pleasure and thus becomes inherently selfish. The act that is supposed to reflect the life-giving union of Christ and the Church becomes an act that seeks only its own temporal satisfaction, not the self-sacrifice and self-donation that comes with the possibility of the creation of new life.

This pleasure-centered version of sex is contrary to the nature of the Triune life which, as the Divine Liturgy reminds us, is fundamentally life-giving. If marriage is to be a picture of the life of the Trinity and the relationship of Christ and the Church, we can never say “no” to life and sacrifice, which is precisely what contraceptive sex does.

I’m encouraged by the attention being given to the question of contraception in Reformed circles and I hope the conversation continues. But I say that with the fervent hope that Reformed ministers will heed the words of the Reformers, as well as the voice of the Church throughout history, rather than relying on their own interpretations of Scripture. There is much more to be said on the topic, delving more deeply into Pope John Paul II’s teaching and even the many pragmatic problems with contraception, but I hope this post will serve to start some discussion on why this ancient teaching is so crucial to our Christian life today.

Additional Resources

• Theology of the Body Explained: A Commentary on John Paul II’s “Gospel of the Body”—Christopher West’s excellent compendium of John Paul II’s groundbreaking series of addresses on the topic of human sexuality
• Tabor Life Institute—A ministry dedicated to spreading a Catholic understanding of sexuality
• CD Set of the “Contraception is Not the Answer” Conference—A conference sponsored by the Pro-Life Action League on the problem of contraception

“For this reason Luther’s phrase: “faith alone” is true, if it is not opposed to faith in charity, in love.” – Pope Benedict XVI

Reformed Professor R. Scott Clark in response to Pope Benedict: “That conditional, that “if,” makes all the difference in the world. That one little conditional is the difference between Rome and Wittenberg.”

St. Augustine: “Now what shall I say of love? Without it, faith profits nothing;” Enchiridion 8

If faith without love profits nothing, then how does it justify? i.e. How does it profit salvation?

Discuss (charitably so that we know your faith profits something!).

Man, on the other hand, whose nature was to be a mean between the angelic and bestial, He created in such sort, that if he remained in subjection to His Creator as his rightful Lord, and piously kept His commandments, he should pass into the company of the angels, and obtain, without the intervention of death, a blessed and endless immortality; but if he offended the Lord his God by a proud and disobedient use of his free will, he should become subject to death, and live as the beasts do—the slave of appetite, and doomed to eternal punishment after death.

Augustine, City of God Book 12, 22.

He explicitly states that Adam’s destiny was to be with the angels, yet in a bodily manner.

This is a deep criticism of the errors of Gnosticism and it sheds light on the reality of Christ’s body, the means of salvation, and our final beatitude. The body of Adam and the body of Christ are essential to comprehending the Christian faith.

My challenge to Calvinists would be this: how does this bodily emphasis inform our ecclesiology (identified by Saint Paul as the “Body of Christ”) and how does it inform our understanding of the Eucharist as the true, substantial Body of Christ in our midst? As Augustine writes elsewhere:

And was carried in His Own Hands. How was He ‘carried in His Own Hands’? Because when He commended His own Body and Blood, He took into His Hands that which the faithful know, and in a manner carried Himself, when He said, ‘This is My Body.’

Augustine, On the Psalms 33:1, 10.

It would seem that the doctrine of an “invisible church” and the belief that “the Eucharist as bread, not really the body of Christ” leans away from Augustine and leans toward Gnosticism. I’m sure that most Reformed Christians will feel that this is an unfair analysis. However, as has been repeatedly stated on Called to Communion, it seems that the Reformed traditions cannot account for the biblical data regarding the corporeality of the Gospel.

Thoughts?