The Master returns in New Who for the first time! Jimmy Akin, Dom Bettinelli, and Fr. Cory Sticha discuss this first part of a 3-part season finale, including the having great actor Derek Jacobi, playing the Master, and finding Captain Jack at the end of the universe.
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Erick Thomas Ybarra writes:
Jimmy Akin’s argument here on the doctrine of Justification is right on the money, and it is why I wish the authors of the Open Letter did not write on this point. It is very clear Amoris dodges this accusation. . . .
My concern, however, with Akin’s article, and I would ask him to clarify for me, is that his argument on the “canonical crime of heresy” vis-a-vis the definition of dogma which requires both divine & catholic faith, would render the ancient presbyter Arius as free of the canonical crime of heresy.
The Council of Nicaea (325) gives us the Creed with “homoousian” (one substance), but only anathematizes those who hold to it, and does not specify anywhere in clear enough terms that the matter is “divinely revealed”.
Happy to oblige!
The reason that Arius counts as a heretic can be answered in more than one way.
By Historical Standards
The first way involves judging him by the standards of his own time. In this era, the term “heresy” did not have its modern, technical meaning.
Instead, as I discuss here, it was used in a broader sense that could refer to anything that conflicted with basic Christian doctrine or practice.
Consequently, it was not necessary at that time to show that a particular doctrine had been infallibly defined as divinely revealed to label someone a heretic.
Arius’s denial of the divinity of Christ unambiguously conflicted with basic Christian teaching, as solemnly confirmed by the First Council of Nicaea, and so he was labelled a heretic.
Thus, Arius has been known as a heretic down through history.
By Modern Standards
A second way of approaching the question is to apply the standards of our time, retrospectively, to the case of Arius. In other words: Would he be convictable as a heretic given the modern use of the term?
Today the term heresy, in simple language, refers to the obstinate, post-baptismal refusal to believe a dogma (for the technical definition, see CIC 751 with CIC 750).
Arius certainly was obstinate at the Council of Nicaea. He refused to submit to its teaching on the divinity of Christ and was consequently sent into exile. He also was baptized.
This leaves us with the question of whether the divinity of Christ is a dogma—that is, a truth that the Magisterium has infallibly defined to be divinely revealed.
There are several issues to be considered here:
What Nicaea Said
Regarding the first question, the Council published what scholars refer to as the Creed of Nicaea. It was later supplemented at the First Council of Constantinople (381) to for the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed (more popularly called the “Nicene” Creed).
The main difference between the two creeds is that the Creed of Nicaea did not end the same way. It didn’t have the passage declaring the divinity of the Holy Spirit. Instead, it ended this way:
[We believe . . .] in the Holy Spirit.
However, those who say: “There was a time when he [the Son] was not” and “Before he was born he was not” and that he was made from nothing or who say that the Son of God may be of a different hypostasis or essence, or may be created or subject to change and alteration, [such persons] the Catholic Church anathematizes (DH 126).
As Erick points out, the anathema at the end of the Creed does not mention the doctrine being divinely revealed.
However, another part of the Creed indicates that divine revelation is involved. The Creed begins:
We believe in one God, the Father almighty, creator of all things, visible and invisible, and in one Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Only-Begotten generated from the Father, that is, from the being of the Father, God from God, light from light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, one in being with [homoousion] the Father, through whom all things were made, those in heaven and those on earth . . . (DH 125).
The key part of this for our purposes is the verb that introduces and governs the entire sentence: “We believe” (Greek, pisteuomen, Latin, credimus).
This verb indicates that the truths articulated belong to the Faith (Greek, hê pistis, Latin, fides), and thus as belonging to divine revelation.
We thus have the text of Nicaea indicating that divine revelation is involved.
What Authority the Council Was Understood to Have at the Time
The First Council of Nicaea was initially confirmed by the authority of the Emperor Constantine. Bishop Karl Josef von Hefele notes:
Constantine the Great solemnly confirmed the Nicene Creed immediately after it had been drawn up by the Council, and he threatened such as would not subscribe it with exile. At the conclusion of the Synod he raised all the decrees of the assembly to the position of laws of the empire; declared them to be divinely inspired; and in several edicts still partially extant, he required that they should be most faithfully observed by all his subjects (A History of the Councils of the Church, I:42).
This is interesting from the point of view of history, but the question from a theological perspective is what the pope said about the Council. According to von Hefele:
The signatures of the Pope’s legates, Hosius, Vitus, and Vincentius, subscribed to the acts of the Council before the other bishops, must be regarded as a sanction from the See of Rome to the decrees of Nicaea. Five documents, dating from the fifth century, mention, besides, a solemn approval of the acts of the Council of Nicaea, given by Pope Sylvester and a Roman synod of 275 bishops. It is granted that these documents are not authentic, as we shall show in the history of the Council of Nicaea; but we nevertheless consider it very probable that the Council of Nicaea was recognized and approved by an especial act of Pope Sylvester, and not merely by the signature of his legates, for the following reasons:—
It is undeniable, as we shall presently see, that
α. The fourth ecumenical council looked upon the papal confirmation as absolutely necessary for ensuring the validity of the decrees of the Council; and there is no good ground for maintaining that this was a new principle, and one which was not known and recognized at the time of the Nicene Council.
β. Again, in 485, a synod, composed of above forty bishops from different parts of Italy, was quite unanimous in asserting, in opposition to the Greeks, that the three hundred and eighteen bishops of Nicaea had their decisions confirmed by the authority of the holy Roman Church (confirmationem rerum atque auctoritatem sanctae Romanae Ecclesiae detulerunt).
γ. Pope Julius I [r. 337-352] in the same way declared, a few years after the close of the Council of Nicaea, that ecclesiastical decrees (the decisions of synods) ought not to be published without the consent of the Bishop of Rome, and that this is a rule and a law of the Church.
δ. Dionysius the Less also maintained that the decisions of the Council of Nicaea were sent to Rome for approval; and it is not improbable that it was the general opinion upon this point which contributed to produce those spurious documents which we possess (ibid. I:44-45).
At this time, the theology of ecumenical councils and when they teach infallibly had not been worked out. That was a subject that would be clarified through later doctrinal development. However, Nicaea was held by its supporters to be divinely guided and supremely authoritative. (The Arians, naturally, disagreed.)
What Authority the Council Is Understood to Have Today
Now that the theology of ecumenical councils has undergone a high degree of doctrinal development, how is First Nicaea viewed from a contemporary perspective?
It is universally regarded as the first of the ecumenical councils. According to Church teaching:
The college of bishops exercises power over the universal Church in a solemn manner in an ecumenical council. But there never is an ecumenical council which is not confirmed or at least recognized as such by Peter’s successor (CCC 884).
Bishop von Hefele argues that First Nicaea was recognized as ecumenical by a special act of Pope Sylvester I (r. 314-335), during whose reign it occurred.
However, even if it turned out that Pope Sylvester did not recognize it by a special act, the council would still be ecumenical.
A special act of recognition by the pope is not required—only the recognition itself. Subsequent popes—including all of the recent ones—have unmistakably recognized this council as ecumenical, and so it is.
Prosecuting Arius for Heresy by Modern Standards
That brings us to the Creed of Nicaea’s infallibility. While the theology of magisterial infallibility also had not been developed at the time the Council met, it has now, and the Church holds that:
[When the bishops are] gathered together in an ecumenical council, they are teachers and judges of faith and morals for the universal Church, whose definitions must be adhered to with the submission of faith (Lumen Gentium 25).
At Nicaea, the bishops were gathered in an ecumenical council, so that leaves us with the question of whether the Creed of Nicaea counted as a definition—that is, as a statement the bishops intended to be binding on all the faithful and to absolutely bring all legitimate discussion of a matter to an end.
Note that an ecumenical council—like a pope—does not have to use any set form of words to issue a definition. It does not have to say “anathema” or “we define.” It just has to indicate in one way or another that the matter is definitively settled.
In this case, it did. The bishops of the Council of Nicaea clearly intended to bring all legitimate discussion of the topic to an end, for all of the faithful, and to make this point they put their teaching in the form of a profession of faith for the faithful to say.
This profession of faith also has become universal in both East and West as an obligatory expression of Christian truth. One cannot be an orthodox Christian and deny it. (This means, among other things, that the ordinary and universal magisterium also has infallibly taught it, not just the extraordinary magisterium.)
That brings us to the final issue, which is whether the use of the verb “believe” (pisteuomen/credimus) indicates a matter of divine revelation.
It does. In the Doctrinal Commentary on the Concluding Formula of the Professio Fidei, Ratzinger and Bertone note that the verb “believe” (Latin, credo) is used for “all those doctrines of divine and Catholic faith which the Church proposes as divinely and formally revealed and, as such, as irreformable” (n. 5).
By contrast, the verbs “accept and hold” (Latin, amplector ac retineo) are used for “all those teachings belonging to the dogmatic or moral area, which are necessary for faithfully keeping and expounding the deposit of faith, even if they have not been proposed by the Magisterium of the Church as formally revealed” (n. 6).
Such a truth is thus a “sententia definitive tenenda” (Latin, “opinion to be definitively held”—as opposed to be believed with divine and Catholic faith).
Thus, from a modern perspective, the confession of faith offered in the Creed of Nicaea—or the modern Nicene Creed—consists of matters to be believed, not merely held, and thus as consisting of truths contained in divine revelation.
Consequently, Ratzinger and Bertone state that among truths of this kind “belong the articles of faith of the Creed, the various Christological dogmas and Marian dogmas” (n. 11).
By requiring Christians to profess belief in the divinity of Christ, Nicaea thus infallibly defined that this is a truth of divine revelation.
Therefore, even when we apply modern criteria, Arius was a heretic.
The beginning of Deep Space 9’s 2nd season took a gamble by unrolling a three-episode story of political intrigue and a coup d’etat. Jimmy Akin, Dom Bettinelli, and Fr. Cory Sticha discuss this in two-parts, including how it was a rehearsal for the series’ long story arc that became its signature.
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Peter Kwasniewski, responding to my previous post, says:
Jimmy Akin wrote a reply to some stray comments of mine on Facebook, and I therefore owe him and my readers at least a brief response. (In the coming days, you can expect to see a more robust rejoinder or two made to all of our critics; it will be worth the wait.)
He then says:
There are two problems with Akin’s argument.
Let’s look at both of them.
Kwasniewski’s First Argument: The Possibility of Observing the Commandments
He writes:
1) The letter certainly contains charges that fulfill even Mr Akin’s definition of the requirements for the delict of heresy. Most obviously the first one:
“A justified person has not the strength with God’s grace to carry out the objective demands of the divine law, as though any of the commandments of God are impossible for the justified; or as meaning that God’s grace, when it produces justification in an individual, does not invariably and of its nature produce conversion from all serious sin, or is not sufficient for conversion from all serious sin.”
This rests on the dogmatic pronouncement of the Council of Trent, session 6, canon 18:
“If anyone says that the commandments of God are impossible to observe even for a man who is justified and established in grace, let him be anathema” (DH 1568).
The initial quotation (“A justified person has not the strength . . .”) is not a quotation of Pope Francis. It is a construction of the authors of the Open Letter, whose meaning they attribute to Pope Francis. They only later quote Pope Francis’s words in an attempt to justify their initial paraphrase, and they do not provide argumentation as to why we should take his words in the sense they attribute to him.
This is a flaw in the drafting of the Open Letter. It would be better if they had used Pope Francis’s own words and contrasted them directly with the quotation from Trent, providing exegesis as to why we must understand something Francis said as contradicting Trent. This they do not attempt.
They also fail to provide the needed analysis of Trent’s statement. The use of the penalty of anathema, in this case, indicates that Trent is making an infallible definition. However, as I document here, it does not indicate that Trent is saying this matter is divinely revealed and thus a dogma. More than a mere use of “anathema” is needed for that.
It is possible for the canon to be understood as asserting a truth known by reason or “founded upon” Scripture without being directly contained in divine revelation (see my previous documentation). I can think of arguments on both sides of the issue.
Whatever conclusion one might draw based on them, this canon will not sustain a successful charge of heresy against Pope Francis.
To see why, we need to do the work that the authors of the Open Letter failed to do—i.e., to conduct an exegesis of the relevant texts.
In the first place, we need to understand Trent. As is regularly underscored in textbooks on magisterial statements, the decrees of ecumenical councils must be understood in terms of the problems that they were addressing. The same is true of Scripture. Only after this step is completed can we relate what they have to say to problems raised in later ages.
So, what was Trent combatting in this canon? Basically, there were Protestant authors who were saying that it was altogether impossible for a justified man to observe God’s commandments. Some went as far as saying that every single thing a person did was mortal sin.
Trent’s concern is to reject this error and affirm that it is possible for “a man who is justified and established in grace” to observe God’s commandments.
Note the inclusion of the phrase “and established in grace.” This means that factors in addition to justification are needed for a man to observe God’s commandments. This is proved by canon 22, which reads:
If anyone says that without God’s special help a justified man can persevere in the justice he has received or that with it he cannot persevere, let him be anathema (DH 1572, emphasis added).
In other words, the just man requires God’s “special help” (Latin, speciali auxilio) to observe the commandments. This is what is meant in canon 18 when it refers to the just man being “established in grace.” Trent thus is not saying that justification alone provides this ability.
Trent also is assuming the usual conditions needed for mortal sin are met. It is talking about people who are capable of performing human acts, and who thus have adequate consent and knowledge. It is not talking about people who are deprived of the needed consent or knowledge.
There is no guarantee here that God will ensure that the just always have the knowledge and freedom needed to avoid objectively grave sins. For example, there is no guarantee that a baptized child below the age of reason—who is justified by virtue of baptism—will always be able to avoid objectively grave sin. God does not guarantee, and Trent does not mean, that a baptized three-year old will always have the knowledge and freedom needed to resist the urge to run into oncoming traffic or eat something labelled “poison.”
Neither is there a guarantee that these will be the case for people at later stages of life. People can go senile. They can go insane. They can get brain damage. They can be incompletely or even erroneously catechized. There are all kind of things that can cause a just person to be deprived of the knowledge and freedom necessary to objectively observe the commandments.
None of those situations are covered by Trent’s definition, which is meant to deal with the situation of a just man who is established in grace, who possesses reason and is capable of performing human acts—i.e., who has sufficient freedom and knowledge.
So how does that relate to what Pope Francis said?
When the authors of the Open Letter attempt to document the error they attribute to him in the quotation above, they cite four texts (see Open Letter [A] 1, 9-11).
Three of these are quotations in which the Pope says things about Martin Luther and the Reformation. None of these even mention the issue at hand—whether it is impossible for a just man established in grace to observe the commandments. They are therefore inadequate to proving a charge of heresy on this point.
The remaining one is this:
Saint John Paul II proposed the so-called “law of gradualness” in the knowledge that the human being “knows, loves and accomplishes moral good by different stages of growth.” This is not a “gradualness of law” but rather a gradualness in the prudential exercise of free acts on the part of subjects who are not in a position to understand, appreciate, or fully carry out the objective demands of the law (Amoris Laetitia 295).
Here Pope Francis refers to John Paul II’s discussion of the law of gradualness in Familiaris Consortio 34. One can ask whether Pope Francis understands this principle in exactly the same way as John Paul II, but that’s not our question here. Our question is whether Pope Francis contradicts canon 18 of Trent’s Decree on Justification.
So, what can we say about that?
Unfortunately, the authors of the Open Letter have truncated Pope Francis’s remarks in a way that hides relevant context from the reader. To quote him more fully, he says:
This is not a “gradualness of law” but rather a gradualness in the prudential exercise of free acts on the part of subjects who are not in a position to understand, appreciate, or fully carry out the objective demands of the law. For the law is itself a gift of God which points out the way, a gift for everyone without exception; it can be followed with the help of grace, even though each human being “advances gradually with the progressive integration of the gifts of God and the demands of God’s definitive and absolute love in his or her entire personal and social life” (Amoris Laetitia 295, emphasis added).
The authors of the Open Letter omitted Pope Francis’s words stressing that God’s law is the same for everyone and that it can be kept with the help of grace! That’s precisely what Trent was saying!
This omission is so significant, given the error Pope Francis is being accused of, that it is difficult to avoid the conclusion that it was deliberately left out to deprive the Open Letter’s readers of information that would be damaging to the authors’ case.
Where Pope Francis goes beyond canon 18 is in calling attention to the fact that there are some situations, particularly at early stages of moral catechesis, where people “are not in a position to understand, appreciate, or fully carry out the objective demands of the law.”
But Trent didn’t deny that. It never said that the moment you’re justified you’re guaranteed divinely infused catechesis about the whole law of God. If that did happen, we wouldn’t need children to memorize the commandments or learn their meanings and applications as part of their catechism classes.
Trent assumed in canon 18 that we’re talking about a person who has the knowledge and freedom needed to place an authentically human act.
So, what if you get bad catechesis early in life and thus a late start on mature moral development?
In that case, you need to recognize the truth of God’s law, which “points out the way . . . for everyone without exception” and “can be followed with the help of grace,” even if this means that one “advances gradually with the progressive integration of the gifts of God and the demands of God’s definitive and absolute love in his or her entire personal and social life.”
That last quotation, which Amoris Laetitia gives, by the way, is also from John Paul II. It’s from Familiaris Consortio 9.
The Open Letter thus wholly fails to sustain a charge of heresy against Pope Francis on this point.
A Side Question from Louie Verrecchio
Although the authors of the Open Letter do not cite Amoris Laetitia 301 in relation to their first charge of heresy, Louie Verrecchio thinks it relevant. He quotes the passage as follows:
A subject may know full well the rule [divine law concerning the mortal sin of adultery], yet have great difficulty in understanding its inherent values, or be in a concrete situation which does not allow him or her to act differently and decide otherwise without further sin. (AL 301)
Given the analysis of Trent that we have already offered, part of the solution to Louie’s query is clear: When section 301 refers to the possibility of someone having “great difficulty in understanding its [the law’s] inherent values,” there is no conflict with Trent. The Council did not define that people will never have incomplete or bad catechesis, resulting in a malformed conscience.
But what about the statement that it’s possible a person may “be in a concrete situation which does not allow him or her to act differently and decide otherwise without further sin”?
What might that mean?
This could have been expressed more clearly—e.g., with the addition of a relevant example—but it is possible to imagine situations that the pope would see as fitting this description.
For example: Suppose that a person has been raised culturally Catholic but given no catechesis at all. Let’s suppose that it’s a woman from one of the favelas of Rio de Janeiro. She marries a man, but he beats her, and she divorces him. She then marries another man, without an annulment, and they have several children. He then starts beating her, too. She thinks about leaving him also, but he makes it clear that if she does so, he will kill both her and the children. In fact, she realizes that she will be in danger if she even stops sleeping with him.
At this point, out of desperation, she turns to God and has a religious conversion. She begins attending religious education classes at her local parish and discovers that she’s been living out of conformity with God’s law all this time.
There is certainly a way through this situation that—however difficult it may be—does not involve her sinning.
But at her present stage of moral catechesis, she may believe that her moral duty to protect the children and provide for their welfare is such that she believes it would be a sin for her to stop sleeping with this monster. She may thus believe that she is in “a concrete situation which does not allow him or her to act differently and decide otherwise without further sin.”
The situation I have proposed is extreme, but extreme situations help make points clear. That’s why they’re used in thought experiments.
Of course, however difficult it may be for her to discern, there is a way for her to deal with this situation without sin. God’s law never creates true double-bind situations.
But his permissive will allows situations to exist where it is very difficult to discern and follow the right path.
I take that to be what Amoris Laetitia means. Indeed, the context is one in which the document is discussing difficult situations that make it difficult to fully follow God—a process of discernment that “must remain ever open to new stages of growth and to new decisions which can enable the ideal to be more fully realized” (AL 304).
Given all of these factors, an orthodox reading of AL 301 is entirely possible. One cannot show from the text that Pope Francis is intending to teach that God’s law contradicts itself in such a way that there is literally no non-sinful option in some cases.
But if he’s not saying that, then he’s not saying that it’s impossible to keep the commandments.
AL 301 is thus not a suitable basis for sustaining a charge of heresy, even if canon 18 of the Decree on Justification is taken as establishing a dogma rather than just an infallible truth. You’d need something much more explicit and unambiguous to sustain a charge of heresy.
Kwasniewski’s Second Argument: Understanding Dogma
For his second argument, Kwasniewski writes:
2) Akin supposes that for a truth to be held of Divine and Catholic Faith, it must be expressly taught by the organs of the extraordinary magisterium as divinely revealed, but this is not so.
It’s not so, and Kwasniewski is misrepresenting me. The extraordinary magisterium does not have to be involved. The ordinary and universal magisterium can do it.
A truth should also be held with Divine and Catholic Faith if it is taught by the ordinary and universal magisterium as divinely revealed . . .
Correct. At this point, Kwasniewiski inserts a footnote, which reads:
He [Akin] verbally concedes this point but then restricts the definition of the ordinary and universal magisterium to a consensus of the episcopate so explicit that it would actually end up forming part of the extraordinary magisterium.
I do no such thing. The criteria for the ordinary and universal magisterium defining a point are as follows:
Although the individual bishops do not enjoy the prerogative of infallibility, they nevertheless proclaim Christ’s doctrine infallibly whenever, even though dispersed through the world, but still maintaining the bond of communion among themselves and with the successor of Peter, and authentically teaching matters of faith and morals, they are in agreement on one position as definitively to be held (Lumen Gentium 25).
Kwasniewski appears to confuse two issues: (1) the degree of consensus that exists among the bishops and (2) whether they are meeting in an ecumenical council. The latter is what is relevant to the bishops exercising the extraordinary magisterium; the former is not. There is no degree of consensus among the world’s bishops—however high it may be—that would turn an act of the ordinary and universal magisterium into an act of the extraordinary magisterium.
His assertion that I restrict the ordinary and universal magisterium “to a consensus of the episcopate so explicit that it would actually end up forming part of the extraordinary magisterium” appears to indicate that he does not know what these terms mean.
To resume:
. . . — and such truths are not (as Mr Akin falsely supposes) limited to those truths taught AS divinely revealed by the episcopate dispe[r]sed throughout the world . . .
Once again, Kwasniewski misrepresents me. I do not suppose that the ordinary and universal magisterium is capable only of defining something as divinely revealed. It’s not. It can also define various non-revealed truths, and it can define revealed truths as true–without defining them as divinely revealed (as Ratzinger and Bertone indicate it did with papal infallibility prior to Vatican I, which raised that infallible teaching to the status of a dogma).
However, if it does so, then it does not have to be held by divine and Catholic faith, only Catholic faith.
If you’re going to sustain a charge of heresy based on the ordinary and universal magisterium, you must show that the ordinary and universal magisterium has defined a truth “proposed as divinely revealed either by the solemn magisterium of the Church or by its ordinary and universal magisterium” (CIC 750 §1; cf. 751)—i.e., a dogma.
I would note that, in the Open Letter, the signatories nowhere appeal to the ordinary and universal magisterium. The term does not appear anywhere in the document. If they are reconfiguring their case to appeal to the ordinary and universal magisterium (as I, frankly, expected they would once criticism of the document started), then I take this as a recognition of the weaknesses and inadequacies of the initial case they presented.
. . . but also include anything taught directly in the literal sense of scripture (because both the ordinary and universal magisterium and the extraordinary magisterium have taught the inspiration and inerrancy of scripture), the unanimous scriptural interpretations of the Fathers (from which a Catholic may not dissent, according to the definitions of Trent, Pius IV, and Vatican I), the unanimous consensus of the faithful concerning divine revelation (Lumen Gentium 12), and even the “universal and constant consent” of theologians concerning divinely revealed truth (Pius IX, Tuas libenter).
There are several problems here:
Given the number of misrepresentations and misunderstandings we have documented—including of basic terms—it will be interesting to see the response that Kwasniewsky says is forthcoming from the signatories.
Peter Kwasniewski—a philosopher and one of the signatories of the Open Letter accusing Pope Francis of heresy—has briefly responded on Facebook to my post On Charging a Pope with Heresy. He writes:
Jimmy Akin’s article at the NC Register, attempting to show why the Open Letter fails, will likely mislead many because of his know-it-all tone and seemingly watertight argument.
By his exceedingly narrow definition of dogma, Akin shifts the goal posts to such an extent that a vast number of actual condemnations for heresy in Church history would be excluded by it. Indeed, by his definition, the resurrection of Christ would not be a dogma, because it has never been solemnly defined as such; thus the denial of it would not constitute a heresy. Good news for modernist theologians!
On the other hand, even a kid brought up on the Baltimore Catechism would be able to say that someone who says that (e.g.) sinning is sometimes the best God asks of some people is a heretic.
On Michael Liccione’s page on Facebook, Kwasniewski states:
It’s [Kwasniewski’s previous response is] not an attack on his [Akin’s] person — I do not know him personally — but on his ridiculous definition of dogma and heresy. By his definition, many of the condemnations made by the Church Fathers would be rendered pointless. We can parse out canonical niceties until the cows come home, but if you need a doctorate to know what is and is not Catholicism — on rather basic issues like whether there is more than one religion on Earth that God positively wills, or whether cohabiting non-spouses can go up for Communion — then the whole project has failed, and we might as well hang up our hats and go to bed.
I would make several points in response.
I’m not going to engage Kwasniewski’s paraphrases of positions he attributes to Pope Francis. I agree that there have been any number of poorly phrased statements that need proper clarification. That is not the issue at hand: The charge of heresy is, and as I’ve shown, the signatories of the letter fail to prove their case.
I have not “shifted the goal posts” in any way. I explained the Church’s definition of the term heresy, and I have backed it up by quoting the relevant passages of its documents. That is why my piece offers a “seemingly watertight argument.” The actual goalpost shifting is by the signatories of the Open Letter, who have adopted a sloppy and overbroad understanding of heresy in order to make their case.
The Church’s definition of heresy does not exclude “a vast number of actual condemnations for heresy in Church history.” It embraces all of the magisterial condemnations for heresy where that term is used in its established sense.
By saying that “the resurrection of Christ would not be a dogma, because it has never been solemnly defined as such,” Kwasniewski neglects the fact that it was defined by the solemn Magisterium of the Church at the First Council of Nicaea (325) and the First Council of Constantinople (381), which is why it is part of the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed, which the Church uses in its profession of faith. The entire Creed is thus a statement of dogma.
Ratzinger and Bertone, in their 1998 Doctrinal Commentary on the Concluding Formula of the Professio Fidei, list “the articles of faith of the Creed” (n. 11) as truths “which the Church, either by a solemn judgment or by the ordinary and universal Magisterium, sets forth to be believed as divinely revealed” (n. 5)—i.e., as dogmas.
I would add that, even prior to I Nicaea, the Resurrection had been infallibly defined by the ordinary and universal Magisterium—a possibility that Kwasniewski also fails to discuss.
Kwasniewski’s statement that “even a kid brought up on the Baltimore Catechism would be able to say that someone who says that (e.g.) sinning is sometimes the best God asks of some people is a heretic” is a cute rhetorical flourish, but it does not correspond to the facts.
A “kid brought up on the Baltimore Catechism” could plausibly deduce that something is problematic about the statement in question, but the Baltimore Catechism does not identify this as a heresy, and it does not train children to be experts in diagnosing heresy.
By stating that the definitions I have offered for dogma and heresy are “ridiculous,” Kwasniewski reveals either (1) that he does not know how the Magisterium uses these terms or (2) that he considers the Magisterium’s use to be “ridiculous,” in which case his problem is with the Magisterium, not with me.
The use of these definitions in no way renders “many of the condemnations made by the Church Fathers” pointless. They retain their full force.
Kwasniewski complains about parsing out “canonical niceties,” but this is precisely the area that he and his co-signatories have ventured into by writing—in their words (in the Open Letter)—“to accuse Pope Francis of the canonical delict of heresy.”
You can’t accuse people of canonical delicts and then complain if you are being held to a canonical standard of proof. That is moving the goal post.
As I said before, it’s one thing to ask for clarifications, voice concerns, or express disagreement, but it’s another to start making charges of the canonical crime of heresy. When you do that, you’d better be able to prove your case, but Kwasniewski’s responses indicate that he can’t.
Recently I published a piece called On Charging the Pope with Heresy, which looks at the main problem with the recent Open Letter accusing Pope Francis of heresy—namely, that it fails to make its case.
So far, the most thorough engagement with the piece that I’ve seen is by Louie Verrecchio.
He thoughtfully and charitably asks if I could provide a few clarifications, and I’m happy to do so.
First, though, I’d like to add one of my own . . .
On the Matter of Credentials
At the beginning of my piece, I noted that none of the signatories of the Open Letter had doctorates in the relevant fields of canon law and sacred theology and that none appeared to be ecclesiologists or had published books on the Magisterium and how it exercises its infallibility.
A number of people, including Louie, took this as disparaging the signatories, but this was not my intent.
The National Catholic Register asked me to discuss the signatories’ credentials, and I agreed that this was needed because various press outlets were presenting them as highly respected scholars who would have expertise in this area.
In fact, only one of them is prominent as a theologian, and this isn’t his area of specialization.
I thus included the reference to help provide context for ordinary readers in understanding the degree of expertise the signatories have in this area, to keep them from overestimating the matter.
Also, because they aren’t experts in ecclesiology, it was my way of letting them off the hook, which is why I said that it made some of the flaws in the letter understandable.
Noting that someone is not an expert in a subject is a matter of fact that in no way disparages the person or diminishes their expertise in other areas or their other contributions.
Also, my critique of the letter’s contents did not involve their level of expertise. I did not argue that their charges should be dismissed because of lack of credentials. I never make that argument, for anyone, on any subject. That’s the ad hominem fallacy.
People’s arguments need to be met on the merits, and after providing this bit of context, that’s what I did: Look at the merits of the argument they made.
The need to consider the merits is something that I’m very aware of. As an autodidact, most of my own expertise in different subjects is through independent study, and this happens to be an area I’ve specialized in. I’ve even published a theological manual on the topic.
Thus, I would never argue that someone’s argument should be dismissed because they aren’t credentialed in an area.
However, enough people misunderstood my intention that I realize I could have done more to clarify the reason I brought up the subject.
It’s my fault for not doing so.
Now, let’s look at the clarifications Louie requested . . .
The Nature of Heresy
Louie’s discussion deals with the nature of heresy, so it will be helpful to note a few points up front.
The term heresy has had several meanings over the course of Church history.
Originally, the Greek word hairesis meant “sect,” “party,” “school,” “faction” or the views characterizing such a group—i.e., “opinion,” “dogma” (see A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, 3rd ed., by Bauer, Danker, Arndt, and Gingrich [BDAG]).
The adjective hairetikos thus meant “factious,” “division-making” (BDAG).
Thus, when Paul tells Titus,
As for a man who is factious [Gk., hairetikos], after admonishing him once or twice, have nothing more to do with him (Tit. 3:10).
He means don’t waste your time on someone who persists in being divisive after you’ve warned him a couple of times.
In later centuries, the term heresy came to be applied—broadly—to any position that was in some way in conflict with Christian teaching and practice, but it didn’t have the technical meaning that it does today.
This has to be taken into account when reading older Christian documents, because we can’t impose on them a modern, technical meaning that the term had not yet acquired.
Today, the term heresy has a very technical meaning, which I document and explore in my original post. I go into even more detail in Teaching With Authority.
To put it concisely, today heresy is a canonical crime in which, after baptism, a person obstinately refuses to believe (i.e., doubts or denies) a dogma.
This is the sense of the term that is relevant if you want to charge a contemporary person—such as the pope—with heresy.
So, we need to know what dogma is.
The Nature of Dogma
Like the term heresy, the term dogma has had several meanings in the history of theology.
Originally, the Greek word dogma meant “ordinance,” “decision,” “command” (BDAG). That’s why Luke can say:
In those days a decree [Gk., dogma] went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be enrolled (Luke 2:1).
It also could refer to a tenet or statement of belief—i.e., “doctrine” or “dogma” in a loose, pre-modern sense (BDAG).
In later centuries, the term dogma came to refer to Christian teaching in general, without referring to a specific kind of teaching. This also has to be taken into account when reading older documents, when the term was still a synonym for doctrine (Latin, doctrina).
However, by the 18th century the term had come to refer to a subset of doctrines that must be believed “with divine and Catholic faith.”
This is, in essence, the set of beliefs that are contained in divine revelation (requiring divine faith) and that have been infallibly defined by the Magisterium as being part of divine revelation (requiring Catholic faith).
The upshot is that, today, the word dogma is used for those truths that the Magisterium has infallibly defined to be divinely revealed.
Heresy, then, is the obstinate, post-baptismal refusal to believe such a truth.
However, the Magisterium sometimes infallibly defines a truth without defining that it is divinely revealed. In that case, it is an infallible doctrine but not a dogma.
So, how can we tell which it is?
Infallible Doctrine or Dogma?
In my original piece, I wrote:
Note that just because something is infallible, that doesn’t make it a dogma. The Magisterium has to have infallibly said that it is divinely revealed for that to be the case.
Louie then says:
I would invite Mr. Akin to correct me if I have misread his position, but he seems to be treating the phrase “divinely revealed” almost, if not entirely, formulaically; as if a General Council that fails to explicitly state as much fails to teach dogmatically.
I’m not entirely sure what he means by “formulaically.” However, there is no set formula that the Magisterium must use, but it must in some way indicate not just that the matter is to be held definitively but that it is to be believed as a matter of theological faith, and thus is contained in divine revelation.
This is what I meant when I wrote:
But to create a dogma, the Magisterium needs to go further and, in some way [emphasis added], indicate that a truth is divinely revealed (e.g., by saying “is divinely revealed” in the case of a positive expression of dogma or by saying “is heretical” in the case of a doctrinal violation).
“Is divinely revealed” and “is heretical” are two possible ways of indicating this, but they are not the only ones. Saying things like “is a matter of faith” would also work, and there are other possibilities as well. As with papal infallibility, there is no set form of words that has to be used, but the concept has to be communicated in some way.
This gets us into how that happens in practice . . .
The Implications of “Anathema”
Louie writes:
My first thought upon reading his article up to this point is that when a council; e.g., the Council of Trent, employs the formula anathema sit, this alone is enough to inform the faithful that the truth in question is sufficiently based in revelation as to be considered divinely revealed; i.e., dogma.
I understand this impulse, and it’s a reasonable proposal when first considering the matter.
However, an examination of the historical record reveals that it isn’t the case.
As I discuss in Teaching With Authority (§§480-488), the term “anathema” literally referred to a special kind of excommunication, and it could be applied to non-doctrinal offenses.
For example, the Fourth Lateran Council (1215) imposed anathema on Christians who sent ships to trade with certain countries “for a period of four years.”
That’s not a doctrinal matter at all; it’s a disciplinary infraction, as indicated by the sunset clause of four years. It’s not like Christian doctrine is going to change in four years, such that what’s intrinsically wrong now will cease to be when we hit the four-year date.
Some uses of the penalty of anathema thus do not establish doctrines. However, anathema was the strongest penalty that could be applied, and so when it is applied to a doctrinal matter, the Magisterium may be seen as invoking the supreme level of its teaching authority—i.e., infallibility.
That still leaves open the question of whether it’s defining that a doctrine is true or whether it’s defining that a doctrine is divinely revealed.
We can demonstrate that anathema is not always used to do the latter. This is clear when it’s used to define things that aren’t divinely revealed. For example, consider this canon from the Council of Trent:
If anyone says that in the most holy sacrament of the Eucharist the substance of bread and wine remains together with the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ and denies that wonderful and unique change of the whole substance of the bread into his body and of the whole substance of the wine into his blood while only the species of bread and wine remain, a change which the Catholic Church very fittingly calls transubstantiation, let him be anathema [emphasis added] (Decree on the Eucharist, can. 2; DH 1652).
This canon appears to make two definitions:
The second of these points is not a matter of divine revelation. The term transubstantiation was not coined until the 1000s, and so the term is not part of the deposit of faith that Christ gave to the apostles. The fittingness of the term for this miraculous change is thus what specialists refer to as a “dogmatic fact” rather than a dogma.
Thus, writing in 1896, Sylvester Hunter, S.J. stated:
In the same way [as other dogmatic facts had been defined], the Council of Trent (Sess. 13, can. 2; Denz. 764) defined that the word transubstantiation was most fit to apply to the change of the elements in the Eucharist (Sylvester Joseph Hunter, Outlines of Dogmatic Theology, 3rd ed., vol. 1 [New York: Benzinger Brothers, 1896], §221).
Therefore, from the mere use of the word anathema—even when it is applied to a doctrinal matter—we can’t infer that it’s establishing a dogma (something that belongs to divine revelation and thus the “primary object of infallibility”) rather than a dogmatic fact or another part of the “secondary object of infallibility.”
So how can we tell?
Clear and Less-Clear Indicators
If the Magisterium uses a phrase equivalent to “is divinely revealed” then it’s a slam-dunk that a dogma rather than just an infallible teaching is being established.
The same is true if a phrase equivalent to “is heretical” is used—provided we’re looking at a document written after the term heresy acquired its modern meaning.
If we’re looking at a document written when heresy could either mean what it does today or just mean opposed to Christian teaching and practice in a more general way, then the matter is less clear.
This can be a very tricky matter, and it has to be dealt with cautiously, on a case-by-case basis because, as we’ve said, there is no single phrase or set of phrases that has to be used.
The Magisterium needs to somehow teach that the doctrine is divinely revealed—otherwise, the modern definition of “dogma” is not met—but the matter can be difficult to discern in practice.
My sense is that, going forward, the Magisterium will be making it abundantly clear whether something is revealed, but in looking at older documents, before the present distinctions were made, the matter is more difficult to discern.
So, are there any case studies we can look to for guidance?
Two Helpful Examples
In 1998, Joseph Ratzinger and Tarcisio Bertone issued a Doctrinal Commentary on the Concluding Formula of the Professio Fidei.
Because it did not carry papal approval, it does not itself qualify as a document of the Magisterium, but it represents the opinion of the top two doctrinal officials of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, and thus it’s an extremely helpful guide.
In it, they offer two examples of matters that are (or were) infallible truths but not dogmas.
The first concerns the infallibility and primacy of the Roman pontiff. They write:
[T]he doctrine on the infallibility and primacy of jurisdiction of the Roman Pontiff was already recognized as definitive in the period before the [First Vatican] council. History clearly shows, therefore, that what was accepted into the consciousness of the Church was considered a true doctrine from the beginning, and was subsequently held to be definitive; however, only in the final stage—the definition of Vatican I—was it also accepted as a divinely revealed truth.
Thus, prior to 1870 it was already an infallible teaching that the pope could exercise infallibility and that he held the primacy of jurisdiction over the Church. Then, in 1870, Vatican I elevated these truths to the status of dogmas.
The second matter concerns women’s ordination. They write:
A similar process can be observed in the more recent teaching regarding the doctrine that priestly ordination is reserved only to men. The Supreme Pontiff [John Paul II], while not wishing to proceed to a dogmatic definition, intended to reaffirm that this doctrine is to be held definitively, since, founded on the written Word of God, constantly preserved and applied in the Tradition of the Church, it has been set forth infallibly by the ordinary and universal Magisterium. As the prior example illustrates, this does not foreclose the possibility that, in the future, the consciousness of the Church might progress to the point where this teaching could be defined as a doctrine to be believed as divinely revealed.
Thus, they hold that John Paul II confirmed that the ordinary and universal Magisterium has already established that the reservation of priestly ordination to men is an infallible truth.
But, they indicate, it’s not yet a dogma.
This is fascinating, because they even say it’s a truth “founded on the written word of God, constantly preserved and applied in the Tradition of the Church.”
They thus draw a distinction between being “divinely revealed” and being “founded on” divine revelation. Presumably, this involves the distinction between something required by divine revelation but not contained within it (e.g., as a dogmatic fact) and something that is directly contained in divine revelation.
In view of these two examples, it seems to me that highly reputable theological minds today are being very careful about declaring something a dogma as opposed to an infallible teaching.
Consequently, in cases of doubt, the prudent course would be to assume that something is merely an infallible teaching.
The burden of proof would be on one to show why it is a dogma, especially in the absence of a clear indicator like “is divinely revealed” or “is heretical” (in the modern sense).
I hope this clarifies my understanding of the more theoretical matters that Louie asks about in his post. He also asks about a concrete issue raised in the Open Letter. However, this post is already long, so I will try to do another one on that subject.
I want to close by thanking Louie for his thoughtful and charitable interaction with my original post.
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There are multiple problems with the recent Open Letter to the Bishops of the Catholic Church that charges Pope Francis with heresy, but here we will focus on the core problem: the letter fails to sustain the charge of heresy.
This fault is likely due to the lack of familiarity that the nineteen signatories have with the details of the concept.
A cursory review of the list of signatories indicates that none have doctorates in the relevant fields of canon law or sacred theology, though a few have licentiates (the equivalent of master’s degrees).
None seem to be specialists in ecclesiology—the branch of theology that deals most directly with the Magisterium of the Church—and none seem to have published a book on the Magisterium and how it engages its infallibility.
From this perspective, some of the flaws in the letter may be understandable, but from another perspective, they are not.
If you are going to charge anybody with heresy—but especially if you are going to charge a pope with it—you need to prove your case, and this letter doesn’t.
What Heresy Is
According to the Code of Canon Law, “heresy is the obstinate denial or obstinate doubt after the reception of baptism of some truth which is to be believed by divine and Catholic faith” (CIC 751; cf. CCC 2089).
For heresy to occur, the following conditions must be met:
What Divine and Catholic Faith Is
“Divine and Catholic faith” is a term of art that is explained in the previous canon:
A person must believe with divine and Catholic faith all those things contained in the word of God, written or handed on, that is, in the one deposit of faith entrusted to the Church, and at the same time proposed as divinely revealed either by the solemn magisterium of the Church or by its ordinary and universal magisterium (CIC 750 §1).
This requires some unpacking, but for a truth to require divine and Catholic faith, the following conditions must be met:
“The solemn magisterium” means an infallible definition issued either by a pope or an ecumenical council.
“The ordinary and universal magisterium” means an infallible exercise of teaching performed by the bishops in union with the pope, even though they are not gathered in an ecumenical council.
Consequently, a truth that requires divine and Catholic faith is a truth that, one way or another, the Magisterium has infallibly defined to be divinely revealed.
We have a name for such truths: dogmas.
What Dogma Is
A dogma is a special kind of Church teaching. Any time the Church authoritatively teaches something, it is a doctrine (Latin, doctrina = “teaching”).
Within the set of doctrines is a smaller set of teachings that have been infallibly defined by the Magisterium. These are infallible doctrines.
Within the set of infallible doctrines is a smaller set that consists of those infallible teachings that the Magisterium has infallibly defined to be divinely revealed. These are the dogmas.
Note that just because something is infallible, that doesn’t make it a dogma. The Magisterium has to have infallibly said that it is divinely revealed for that to be the case.
The distinctions between these categories, as well as examples of doctrines that belong to them, are discussed in a 1998 commentary by Joseph Ratzinger and Tarcisio Bertone.
They are also discussed, at length, in my book Teaching With Authority: How to Cut Through Doctrinal Confusion & Understand What the Church Really Says.
To give one example of how a doctrine can be infallible but not a dogma, Ratzinger and Bertone note that the Magisterium has infallibly defined that the priesthood can only be conferred on men, but it has not yet defined that this truth is divinely revealed.
Consequently, the reservation of the priesthood to men is an infallible doctrine but not a dogma—at least not yet.
Preliminary Consolidation
Putting the above together, the following conditions need to be met to sustain a charge of heresy:
This is where the flaws in the Open Letter come in.
Failing to Demonstrate that Dogmas are Involved
The Open Letter lists seven propositions that the signatories take to be heresies, or denials of dogmas.
To support each claim, they cite various biblical passages and Church documents.
The biblical passages are neither necessary nor sufficient to demonstrate a dogma. They are not necessary because a dogma can be based in Tradition rather than Scripture.
They are not sufficient because, at most, they show that a truth is found in divine revelation. They do not show that the Magisterium has infallibly defined it to be divinely revealed.
This means that, to demonstrate a dogma, we need to focus on the Church documents.
Unfortunately, many of the documents they cite are simply not relevant to this endeavor. Many do not contain any infallible definitions, and nobody has ever claimed that they do.
Others do contain infallible definitions, but it is not clear that they give rise to dogmas. Remember: To be a dogma, the Magisterium must infallibly define that a truth is divinely revealed, not just that it is true.
In some cases, the documents use language indicating infallibility (e.g., the word “anathema,” though one has to be careful about this word, as it is sometimes used without making a definition, see Teaching With Authority §§480-488).
But to create a dogma, the Magisterium needs to go further and, in some way, indicate that a truth is divinely revealed (e.g., by saying “is divinely revealed” in the case of a positive expression of dogma or by saying “is heretical” in the case of a doctrinal violation).
The signatories of the Open Letter make no attempt to do the needed work. They either do not quote the language used by Church documents or they do not argue that the language they do quote shows that a truth has been infallibly defined as divinely revealed.
Instead, they cite passages as if the sheer number of them proves their case, which it doesn’t.
Indeed, it isn’t even clear that the passages they cite mandate the specific propositions they have in mind.
This is sloppy. It may sound impressive to someone not familiar with this area, but it is simply inadequate to the task they are attempting.
Failure to Demonstrate the Allegation
In addition to failing to demonstrate dogmas, the Open Letter also fails to demonstrate that Pope Francis obstinately doubts or denies dogmas.
One of the requirements for doing this is showing that his statements or actions cannot be understood in another sense.
If they can be understood consistently with dogma then the obligation of charity—and Pope Benedict’s “hermeneutic of continuity”—requires that they be taken this way.
Many of the Open Letter’s charges deal with the issue of divorce and civil remarriage, as discussed in the apostolic exhortation Amoris Laetitia, but as Cardinal Gerhard Muller has shown, the relevant statements in this document can be understood in harmony with Church teaching.
You can’t make a successful charge of heresy as long as this is the case.
Neither does the piling up of questionable staffing decisions—which the Open Letter does at length—prove the case. Staffing decisions are influenced by multiple factors, and you can’t cherry pick the data to support a claim of heresy, especially when the person in question is on record supporting Church teaching (e.g., regarding homosexuality).
Summing Up
The Open Letter has many other flaws, but its chief one is that it fails to make the case that the present pope is guilty of heresy. To do that, it would need to show the following:
If you can’t do those things, then don’t waste the public’s time.
In particular, don’t waste our time citing irrelevant documents that don’t prove your point, and don’t waste our time—as the signatories of the Open Letter do—with loopy charges regarding a pastoral staff that the pope has carried or a cross he has worn.
It’s one thing to ask for clarifications, voice concerns, or express disagreement, but making charges of heresy is another matter.
It’s gravely reckless and irresponsible to charge anyone with an ecclesiastical crime as serious as heresy if you can’t prove it, and it’s even worse to do so with regard to the pope, given the scandal, confusion, and risk of individual schism that it will create for the faithful.
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