Originally, before he was elected pope, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger wanted to retire and write a book about his own personal views on Jesus Christ, as he is presented in the gospels. He read many books like this when he was younger, and now he wanted to write his own to help people grow closer to Jesus.
He had even begun working on it in the summer holidays he had in 2003 and 2004, before John Paul II passed on in 2005.
But then he was elected pope and all his free time vanished. He still cared enough about the project, though, to make time for it.
Because he was elected pope at an elderly age, he wasn’t sure how long he would live and if he would have the time and energy to complete the project, so instead of writing one book covering all of the gospels, he wrote three, covering different parts.
Volume 1 of the series covered the first part of Jesus’ earthly ministry. Volume 2 covered Jesus’ passion and resurrection. And now in Volume 3 he is going back to finish the series by covering the “infancy narratives.”
2. What are the “infancy narratives”?
The infancy narratives are the parts of the gospels that deal with Jesus’ life before his adult ministry–that is, the parts when he was an “infant.”
That’s an approximate term, though, because they actually cover the period before he was born (in fact, before he was even conceived) and also an incident later in his childhood, when he was about twelve years old.
Only two of the four gospels–Matthew and Luke–cover this period, and they each devote the first two chapters of their gospels to it.
Properly speaking, the infancy narratives are Matthew 1-2 and Luke 1-2.
3. Does Pope Benedict think that these parts of the gospels are historical?
Early Christian writers speak of a mysterious, 1st century figure called “John the Presbyter.” Who was he, and why is he significant?
Recently we looked at the claim that Mark derived the information in his Gospel from St. Peter.
This claim dates to a first century source: a figure called “John the Presbyter,” who was a disciple of Jesus.
According to some in the early Church–and according to Pope Benedict–we may have already met this mysterious figure in a surprising way.
Here’s the story . . .
A John By Any Other Name
As we saw previously (CLICK HERE TO READ PART 1), John the Presbyter was a figure apparently distinct from John the Apostle.
He also goes by different names in English, since the Greek word for “presbyter”–presbuteros–can be translated “elder.”
Thus sometimes we read of him as “John the Elder” or “the Presbyter John” or “the Elder John.” It’s all the same in Greek.
He has often been conflated with John the Apostle, for several reasons.
One is that they were both, apparently, disciples of Jesus, though the presbyter was not an apostle.
Another is that, in later years, they both apparently lived at Ephesus.
But they may be related in another way . . .
John the Presbyter and Scripture
There is some reason to think that John the Presbyter–like St. Mark–may have been one of those companions of the apostles who ended up playing a role in writing the New Testament.
You’ll note that 2 John and 3 John are both addressed as being from “the Presbyter”/”the Elder”:
2 John 1: ” The elder to the elect lady and her children, whom I love in the truth . . . “
3 John 1: “The elder to the beloved Gaius, whom I love in the truth.”
Thus St. Jerome reports:
He [John the Apostle] wrote also one Epistle which begins as follows That which was from the beginning, that which we have heard, that which we have seen with our eyes and our hands handled concerning the word of life [i.e., 1 John] which is esteemed of by all men who are interested in the church or in learning.
The other two of which the first is The elder to the elect lady and her children [i.e., 2 John] and the other The elder unto Gaius the beloved whom I love in truth, [i.e., 3 John] are said to be the work of John the presbyter to the memory of whom another sepulchre is shown at Ephesus to the present day, though some think that there are two memorials of this same John the evangelist [Lives of Illustrious Men 9].
Commening on the list of people Papias did research on, St. Jerome remarks:
It appears through this catalogue of names that the John who is placed among the disciples is not the same as the elder John whom he places after Aristion in his enumeration. This we say moreover because of the opinion mentioned above, where we record that it is declared by many that the last two epistles of John are the work not of the apostle but of the presbyter [ibid. 18]
Pope Benedict Weighs In
Over the centuries, the distinction between John the Apostle and John the Presbyter was obscured, but it has received new attention in recent years.
In Jesus of Nazareth, vol. 1, Pope Benedict writes:
This information is very remarkable indeed: When combined with related pieces of evidence, it suggests that in Ephesus there was something like a Johannine school, which traced its origins to Jesus’ favorite disciple himself, but in which a certain “Presbyter John” presided as the ultimate authority.
This “presbyter” John appears as the sender and author of the Second and Third Letters of John (in each case in the first verse of the first chapter) simply under the title “the presbyter” (without reference to the name John).
He is evidently not the same as the Apostle, which means that here in the canonical text we encounter expressly the mysterious figure of the presbyter.
He must have been closely connected with the Apostle; perhaps he had even been acquainted with Jesus himself.
After the death of the Apostle, he was identified wholly as the bearer of the latter’s heritage, and in the collective memory, the two figures were increasingly fused.
At any rate, there seem to be grounds for ascribing to “Presbyter John” an essential role in the definitive shaping of the Gospel [of John], though he must always have regarded himself as the trustee of the tradition he had received from the son of Zebedee.
I entirely concur with the conclusion that Peter Stuhlmacher has drawn from the above data. He holds “that the contents of the Gospel go back to the disciple whom Jesus (especially) loved. The presbyter understood himself as his transmitter and mouthpiece” (Biblische Theologie, II, p. 206). In a similar vein Stuhlmacher cites E. Ruckstuhl and P. Dschullnigg to the effect that “the author of the Gospel of John is, as it were, the literary executor of the favorite disciple” (ibid., p. 207) [Jesus of Nazareth, vol. 1, pp. 226-227].
Pope Benedict thus sees John the Presbyter as the author of 2 and 3 John and as having helped with the writing of the Gospel of John, based on the memories of John the Apostle.
Not an Act of the Magisterium
As Pope Benedict famously said in the preface to Jesus of Nazareth, vol. 1, the work is not an act of the Magisterium, and “everyone is free, then, to contradict me.”
One might thus hold that John the Presbyter had no hand in writing the New Testament.
Or one might hold that the early Church writers are confused and that John the Presbyter is identical with John the Apostle.
New Testament Author Describes History of New Testament?
But what we have read raises the intriguing possibility that we have more than just a first century tradition regarding how Mark’s Gospel was written.
We may, in fact, have a case of another New Testament author telling us about the origin of Mark’s Gospel.
That wouldn’t be the case if John the Presbyter had no hand in writing the New Testament. In that case, he would be merely a first century voice telling us about the origin of Mark’s Gospel (which is exciting enough).
But it would be the case if Pope Benedict (and St. Jerome, and others) is correct that John the Presbyter is a distinct figure who had a hand in writing the New Testament.
And it also would be the case if John the Presbyter is identical with John the Apostle.
Either way, we would have the origin of St. Mark’s Gospel revealed by one of the other authors of the New Testament.
St. Mark is thought to have based his Gospel on what he learned as the companion of St. Peter. Would it surprise you to know that there is a 1st century source that says exactly this?
It is traditionally held that Mark wrote his gospel based on information he learned from St. Peter, after having been his travelling companion.
Where does this claim come from?
And would it surprise you to know that we have a first century source that claims precisely this?
Here’s the story . . .
What We Know About Mark
We know that Mark was a travelling companion of Peter, because Peter mentions the fact in his First Epistle (1 Peter 5:13).
We also know that Mark was a travelling companion of other apostles, including Paul and Barnabas, which Luke discussed in Acts.
Mark may have even been an eyewitness of part of Jesus’ earthly ministry. It is often thought that he refers to himself, anonymously, in his own gospel, as the man carrying a jug of water on his head or as the man who slips out of his clothes and runs away naked on the night Jesus is arrested.
Also, as Luke mentions in Acts, Mark’s mother was prominent in the early Christian community, which at times met at their house in Jerusalem.
So why would we suppose that Mark got the information from St. Peter in particular?
The Origin of the Claim
The claim is found today in the writings of Eusebius of Caesarea, the so-called “father of Church history.” Specifically, it’s found in his multi-book set Church History (a.k.a. Ecclesiastical History).
Eusebius wrote this work just before the First Council of Nicaea (A.D. 325). He finished it about A.D. 324.
The claim concerning Mark’s Gospel is earlier than that, though, because in the relevant passage of Church History, Eusebius is quoting an earlier writer, named Papias.
Who?
We don’t know as much about Papias as we’d like. He was a second century figure who served as the bishop of Hierapolis. This was a town in modern Turkey that is near Laodicea and–a bit more distantly–Ephesus and the other “seven churches of Asia” mentioned in Revelation.
Papias is known for having conducted a series of interviews with people who knew Jesus and his immediate disciples, thinking he could learn more by doing so than just by reading books alone.
He recorded his thoughts in a multi-volume work called Interpretations of the Sayings of the Lord.
This work is now lost, but parts of it survive in quotations in other authors, including Eusebius.
For our purposes, a key point is when he wrote: He is thought to have written the Interpretations of the Sayings of the Lord around A.D. 120-130 (or even earlier).
That carries our tradition about Mark’s connection to Peter back to the early second century.
But we can carry it back further than that, because Papias was basing his book on earlier traditions, and in this case he names his source for this tradition.
The Presbyter?
Here is the relevant passage from Eusebius’s Church History. I’ve labelled who is speaking to make the source of particular words more obvious.
[Eusebius:] But now we must add to the words of his which we have already quoted the tradition which he [that is, Papias] gives in regard to Mark, the author of the Gospel.
[Papias:] “This also the presbyter said:
[The Presbyter:] ‘Mark, having become the interpreter of Peter, wrote down accurately, though not in order, whatsoever he remembered of the things said or done by Christ. For he neither heard the Lord nor followed him, but afterward, as I said, he followed Peter, who adapted his teaching to the needs of his hearers, but with no intention of giving a connected account of the Lord’s discourses, so that Mark committed no error while he thus wrote some things as he remembered them. For he was careful of one thing, not to omit any of the things which he had heard, and not to state any of them falsely.'”
So Eusebius is quoting Papias, and Papias is quoting a figure called “the Presbyter.”
Who is that?
Meet the Presbyter
“The Presbyter” is identified by Eusebius in the sentence immediately before the ones we quoted, where Eusebius writes:
Papias gives also in his own work other accounts of the words of the Lord on the authority of Aristion, who was mentioned above, and traditions as handed down by the presbyter John, to which we refer those who are fond of learning.
This individual–known as “John the Presbyter” or “John the Elder” (the Greek word presbuteros can be translated both ways)–is identified by Papias as a disciple of Jesus who was apparently distinct from John the Apostle.
A bit earlier, Eusebius quoted another passage from Papias, in which the second century author explained his interview method:
If, then, any one came, who had been a follower of the elders, I questioned him in regard to the words of the elders—what Andrew or what Peter said, or what was said by Philip, or by Thomas, or by James, or by John, or by Matthew, or by any other of the disciples of the Lord, and what things Aristion and the presbyter John, the disciples of the Lord, say. For I did not think that what was to be gotten from the books would profit me as much as what came from the living and abiding voice [Church History 3:39:4].
Here Papias identifies John the Presbyter as a disciple of the Lord distinct from the previously-mentioned apostles, including John the Apostle.
Into the First Century
As we noted, Papias is writing c. A.D. 120-130 (or earlier), but he’s quoting the earlier source John the Presbyter.
That pushes the date of the tradition regarding the origin of Mark’s Gospel into the first century.
Remember: John the Presbyter is identified by Papias as one of “the disciples of the Lord,” which is why he was interested in interviewing him to find out what he said about Jesus’ teachings.
He and Aristion were, apparently, people who knew Jesus but who didn’t end up being appointed as apostles. They were, however, companions of apostles, just as Mark and Luke were.
And so it’s not surprising that John the Presbyter–a contemporary of St. Mark, one who lived at the same time Mark wrote his gospel–would have information about how Mark’s Gospel came to be.
In any event, we’re dealing with a first century tradition regarding the origin of Mark’s Gospel.
The Emperor Augustus was a "pontifex maximus." So how did that become a term for the pope?
Recently it was announced that Pope Benedict’s new Twitter handle is @pontifex.
Why did he pick this name, and what does it mean, anyway?
The word’s origin is more surprising than you might think!
Other Possible Names
Pope Benedict might have picked other names. Some plausible ones include:
@pope
@popebenedict
@popebenedictxvi
@benedictxvi
@popebenedict16
Why didn’t he pick any of these?
I would suggest two reasons.
Some May Already Be Taken
People have already been using some of the plausible papal Twitter handles, and Twitter does not easily reassign such names.
That’s why my own Twitter handle is @JimmyAkin3000 (Click here to follow me). Someone was already using my preferred handle, and they don’t easily reassign them.
Still, for the pope they might make an exception.
In fact, for all I know, they may have made an exception. Somebody may have already been using @pontifex.
But I think there’s another, even more practical reason.
Pope Benedict Is Thinking Ahead
While I hope that Pope Benedict reigns for many more years, he is not planning on being pope forever.
In thus think the main reason that he chose the handle he did is because he’s thinking ahead and didn’t want to make everyone have to sign up to get the next pope’s tweets–at whatever time there is a new pope.
In other words, he’s leaving future popes a ready-built Twitter platform that they can use to get their message out.
He thus didn’t include anything specific to him–no variation of “Benedict” or “XVI” in the handle.
That leaves us with generic words for pope–like “pope” and “pontifex.”
On Sunday, October 7, Pope Benedict is scheduled to proclaim St. Hildegard of Bingen and St. John of Avila as the newest doctors of the Church.
A doctor (Latin, “teacher”) of the Church is a Christian writer who has been specially recognized by the Church for the value of his or her writings.
Earlier this year, Pope Benedict explained his decision to name these two individuals as doctors:
The Spirit, who “has spoken through the prophets”, with the gifts of wisdom and knowledge continues to inspire women and men who engage in the pursuit of truth, offering original ways of understanding and of delving into the mystery of God, of man and of the world.
In this context, I am delighted to announce that on 7 October, at the start of the Ordinary Assembly of the Synod of Bishops, I will proclaim St John of Avila and St Hildegard of Bingen Doctors of the universal Church.
These two great witnesses of the faith lived in two very different historical periods and cultural environments.
Hildegard was a Benedictine nun in the heart of medieval Germany, an authentic teacher of theology and a profound scholar of natural science and music.
John, a diocesan priest in the years of the Spanish Renaissance, shared in the travail of the cultural and religious renewal of the Church and of all society at the dawn of modern times.
But the sanctity of their life and the profundity of their doctrine render them perennially relevant: The grace of the Holy Spirit, in fact, projected them into the experience of penetrating understanding of divine revelation and intelligent dialogue with that world which constitutes the eternal horizon of the life and action of the Church.
Especially in light of the project for a new evangelization, to which the Assembly of the Synod of Bishops, mentioned above will be dedicated on the eve of the Year of Faith, these two Saints and Doctors are of considerable and timely importance.
Even today, through their teaching, the Spirit of the Risen Lord continues to resonate his voice and illuminate the way which leads to the Truth that alone can set us free and give full meaning to our lives [Regina Caeli, Pentecost, May 27, 2012].
Meet St. Hildegard of Bingen
Let’s learn a bit about St. Hildegard of Bingen. Pope Benedict gave a pair of audiences on her a few years ago. He introduced her this way:
The other day a press release lands in my email inbox and blares:
U.S. TELEVISION PREMIERE OF “POPE JOAN” ON REELZCHANNEL
The Incredible Legend of the Only Female Pope
Two-Part Television Miniseries Event Premieres Sunday and Monday, December 18-19, 2011 at 8pm ET and at 8pm PT
Oh, great. The “Pope Joan” thing again.
REELZCHANNEL? I’ve never heard of that before. And it’s no wonder with a name like REELZCHANNEL. What were their corporate branding people thinking? That Z for S substitution in the middle of two words slammed together is just painful to think about.
But back to the story . . .
(Albuquerque, NM) Tuesday, November 22, 2011—REELZCHANNEL—TV About Movies® today announced the two-part miniseries “Pope Joan” will make its U.S. television premiere on REELZ starting Sunday, December 18, 2011 with part 1 airing at 8pm ET and at 8pm PT. “Pope Joan” is the legend that will not die—a sweeping historical drama about a woman whose existence has been denied for a thousand years.
Uh . . . that would be because she never existed. People tend to deny the existence of things that never existed.
Gotta love the use of breathless, cliched tropes: “legend that will not die,” “sweeping historical drama.”
“Pope Joan” is the story of a controversial figure of historical record who disguised herself as a man and rose to rule the Catholic Church in the 9th century as the first and only woman to sit on the throne of St. Peter.
Okay, Pope Joan is not controversial. Not among people familiar with the historical record. (“A figure of historical record”? That’s just bad writing. It appears, however, to be a claim that she existed, in which case REELZCHANNEL is lying to its readers.)
So who is responsible for this mess?
Based on the international bestselling novel by Donna Woolfolk Cross, “Pope Joan” was produced by Constantin Film. “Pope Joan” is a four hour miniseries that REELZ will air in separate two-hour parts.
And is the network properly ashamed of itself for airing this?
“We’re excited to be the network bringing the ‘Pope Joan’ miniseries to U.S. audiences,” said Stan E. Hubbard REELZCHANNEL CEO.
Translation: This was a European production that we could get on the air for cheap because we don’t have enough money to do better programming.
“Coming on the heels of another epic historical drama in ‘The Pillars of the Earth’ airing in early December on REELZ, ‘Pope Joan’ is the perfect pairing for our viewers and is a great opportunity for them to discover, explore and consider a story few viewers even know exists.”
Okay, here’s the standard TV overhyped mystery weasel word: “consider.” They want their viewers to “consider” this story. They’re not willing to say flat out that it’s true. But they want to create the illusion that it is or might be, so they ask viewers to “consider” it.
There is nothing here to “consider,” Mr. Stan E. Hubbard, CEO of REELZCHANNEL. You are lying to your audience, misleading them into thinking this even might be true.
So you—personally—Mr. Hubbard, are willing to lie to your audience, and paint a false picture of the faith of many of your viewers, in order to make a buck.
That’s how I see it, Mr. Hubbard.
Interestingly, not all media types see things the way you do, Mr. Hubbard.
Some years ago I was contacted by a Hollywood movie producer—one famous enough that I actually knew who he was (which is saying something because, y’know, I’m not Steven Greydanus)—and he wanted some assistance in finding out the history of Pope Joan for a project he wanted to produce on her.
I told him Pope Joan didn’t exist.
I also mentioned that he would face criticism if he presented a Medieval legend as if it were actual history.
He was surprised and alarmed to learn that Pope Joan never existed—a fact of which the people who had approached him with this project had not informed hm.
He thanked me and indicated he would be seriously reconsidering whether to go forward with the project.
The project never happened.
If only all people in the entertainment industry had such ethics—eh, Mr. Hubbard?
In 1944 the inhabitants of Mattoon, Illinois began reporting a series of at pltempted nighttime home invasions in which the invader used some kind of gas, sprayed through their windows, to immobilize them.
It became a huge story. Numerous calls came in to the police. Parties of armed men roamed the streets, on the watch for the "Mad Gasser" plaguing the town.
People were hysterical!
Literally!
It is now widely thought that there was no Mad Gasser and that the whole things was a case of mass hysteria (initially started, I personally suspect, by a case of sleep paralysis).
A similar sequence of events happened in 1933-34 in Virginia.
They're both fascinating oddities in American history.
And maybe not just American.
And maybe not just history.
Turns out that there are reports from Italy–AND France–AND Spain–of thieves using sleeping gas to immobilize their victims before invading their homes.
Is there any more reality to these than the Mad Gasser of Mattoon?
BTW, it strikes me that this if there are such criminals, they're doing something *very* dangerous. Giving someone the right dose of anesthetic is tricky, and doing so by filling a large space with gas is even trickier–as the Russians found out a few years ago when they tried to use anesthetizing gas on a bunch of Chechnyan terrorists who had taken over a building. It's not like on the 1960s Batman show where you can spray someone with a bit of pink-colored smoke (which they don't even have to inhale) and have them go harmlessly to sleep until you use "Bat Wake" on them.
I read rather a lot of classical history, especially first century Roman history. I don't know how many times I've been through Suetonius's Lives of the Twelve Caesars, and I was recently thrilled when I discovered audio versions of Tacitus's Annals and Josephus's The Jewish War.
Lately I've been boning up on this period for an upcoming set of projects, and a thought keeps striking me:
Why would anybody back then want to be the Roman emperor?
This was something people competed fiercely over. There were multiple civil wars fought over this. But why on earth would anyone want the job? Being Roman emperor had a frightening tendency to Not End Well.
Let's look at the track record:
Julius Caesar (reigned 49 BC-44 BC): Assassinated by senators (also not technically an emperor, but what the hey)
Augustus (44 BC-AD 14): Possibly died of natural causes, but at least two of the three major historians of this period report rumors that he was poisoned by his wife, Livia, in favor of her son, his successor Tiberius
Tiberius (14-37): Possibly died of natural causes, but widely reported to have been killed by his successor, Caligula, possibly in conjunction with the head of his own guard, Macro
Caligula (37-41): Assassinated by his own guards (yes, he was that bad)
Claudius (41-54): Widely thought to have been poisoned by his wife, Agrippina, in favor of her son, his successor Nero
Nero (54-68): Declared and enemy of the state by the senate and forced to commit suicide
Galba (68-69): Killed in civil war by the soldiers of his successor, Otho, after reigning only seven months
Otho (69): Committed suicide in civil war after his successor, Vitellius, achieved a decisive advantage; only reigned three months
Vitellius (69): Killed in civil war by the troops of his successor, Vespasian, after regining only eight months.
That takes us up through A.D. 68-69, the "Year of Four Emperors," which began with Nero on the throne and ended with Vespasian on it.
There were other, even worse years, such as the Year of Five Emperors (A.D. 193) and the Year of Six Emperors (A.D. 238).
So, see what I mean?
Being the Roman Emperor wasn't exactly a good path toward a happy death.
I know that vast numbers of people lived in absolutely horrific conditions back then (by today's standards), and one can't blame the first few emperors for not noticing the pattern of what tended to happen, but once the pattern was established, one would think everyone would shun the job like the plague.
It would certainly make sense to adopt a philosophy like that of Londo Mollari: "I prefer to work behind the scenes. The rewards are almost as great, and the risks far less."
Recently I came a cross a web site that claimed that an anathema applies to anyone who affirms an doctrine that is contrary to the kind of anathema issued by Vatican I (that is, the kind that says, “If anyone says X, let him be anathema”).
The same site said that one of the anathemas of Vatican I made a powerful argument against sedevacantists who say that Pius XII was the last valid pope because Vatican I said that St. Peter will have successors to the end of time.
What do you make of these claims?
The claim that anathemas apply to those who contradict the canons of an ecumenical council, whether Vatican I or one of the other councils, is a common and understandable misunderstanding. We haven’t done a very good job about educating people on what the term “anathema” means in this context, and an awful lot of people are under an innocent misimpression.
To put the matter concisely: The term “anathema,” as used in conciliar and canon law documents, refers to a type of excommunication. In particular (as in the 1917 Code of Canon Law), it referred to a type of excommunication that the bishop performed using a special ceremony. This ceremony involved (among other things) the ringing of a bell, the closing of a book, and the snuffing of a candle. Hence the phrase “bell, book, and candle” (that’s where it comes from; it has nothing to do with witchcraft). These collectively symbolized that the ecclesiastical court had made its ruling against the offender and would not reconsider until he repents. There was then another special ritual of reconciliation for the lifting of the anathema.
(BTW, the image is a painting of the excommunication of Robert the Pious of France. That’s not a giant, smoldering cigarette pointing accusingly at him on the floor but the snuffed candle that the bishop’s entourage—seen leaving by the door—has just yanked off its accompanying candle holder.)
Like other excommunications, anathemas didn’t do anything to a person’s soul. It didn’t make him “damned by God” or anything like that. The only man who can make a man damned by God is the man himself. The Church has no such power. An anathema was a formal way of signaling him that he had done something gravely wrong, that he had endangered his own soul, and that he needed to repent. Anathemas, like other excommunications, were thus medicinal penalties, designed to promote healing and reconciliation.
Also like (many) excommunications, anathemas were not automatic. Just because someone, somewhere, uttered a heresy, this did not cause the relevant bishop to drop whatever he was doing and automatically perform the ceremony like a puppet on strings. Instead, if someone committed an ecclesiastical crime that was potentially subject to an anathema the matter had to be reported, investigated, judged, and only after that would the ceremony happen—if it did.
Also also like other excommunications, they applied to people who were (or had been) in communion with the Catholic Church. There is no point excommunicating somebody from the Catholic Church who had never been part of the Catholic Church, and so people who had never been Catholics were not anathematized, no matter what they said or did. (This comes as quite a surprise to many in the Protestant community, where it is often—unfortunately—claimed that the Catholic Church anathematizes them for their beliefs. Not so. It may disagree with some of their beliefs; it may hope and pray that they adopt the fullness of the faith as found in the Catholic Church; but it does not anathematize them.)
Over time the penalty of anathema became administered only rarely, and eventually it was judged that the extra ceremony was no longer needed. As a result, the 1983 Code of Canon Law abolished the penalty of anathema, and so it no longer exists under Church law.
This means that nobody today is anathema in the sense that the term is used by councils and canon law documents. Excommunication still exists as a penalty, and some excommunications are even automatic, but the special, ceremonial form of excommunication known as anathema does not.
This does not mean that the canons of the ecumenical councils have lost doctrinal force. They haven’t. Whatever doctrinal force they had prior to the 1983 Code, they still have, and so if a particular canon defined something as a heresy then it still is.
Furthermore, heresy still carries a penalty of excommunication, but a number of conditions have to be fulfilled for the penalty to apply (especially if it is to apply automatically—but that’s a subject for another post).
