Jimmy Akin and Dom Bettinelli discuss the mysteries of Transhumanism, both its promises and dangers, including what the Church says about this effort to perfect humanity through science.
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Fr. Cory Sticha welcomes Dom Bettinelli and Jimmy Akin to talk about what’s new with the Starquest Production Network, including new shows now and in the near future and possible opportunities for the community to gather.
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Jimmy Akin, Dom Bettinelli, and Fr. Cory Sticha consider this 4th Doctor (Tom Baker) adventure that brings them to a future space station where cryogenic humans are confronted by their own extinction at the hands of those they caused to die off.
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In 1546, the Council of Trent issued a decree which prohibited people from interpreting Scripture “contrary to the unanimous consent of the Fathers.”
The meaning and significance of this concept has been widely misunderstood, so let’s take a look at the subject.
Here are 15 things to know and share . . .
1) What was the context of the decree?
The Council of Trent (1545-1563) was called to deal with two subjects: (1) doctrinal errors that were being spread by the Protestant Reformers and (2) internal reforms needed within the Catholic Church. Consequently, historian Hubert Jedin notes:
By the terms of the decision of 22 January [1564], dogma and reform were to be discussed simultaneously and every dogmatic decree was to be matched by a decree on Church reform (A History of the Council of Trent 2:87-88).
Therefore, the decrees of Trent are divided between those of a doctrinal nature and those of a disciplinary nature. Thus the fourth session of the Council thus released two decrees:
The first of these decrees was dogmatic (i.e., concerning doctrinal matters), and it dealt with which books the Catholic Church regards as sacred and canonical.
The second decree concerned Church reform (i.e., disciplinary matters), and it’s the one that mentions the unanimous consent of the Fathers.
2) What subjects did the second decree cover?
It dealt with several abuses that had been proposed for reform by one of the Council’s committees (Jedin, 70-71). The final, published form of the decree established several disciplinary norms:
The second decree also empowered bishops to impose appropriate penalties on those who violated these norms.
3) What did the second decree say about the unanimous consent of the Fathers?
The relevant provision says:
Furthermore, in order to restrain petulant spirits, [the Council] decrees, that no one, relying on his own skill, shall—in matters of faith, and of morals pertaining to the edification of Christian doctrine—wresting the sacred Scripture to his own senses, presume to interpret the said sacred Scripture contrary to that sense which holy mother Church—whose it is to judge of the true sense and interpretation of the holy Scriptures—hath held and doth hold; or even contrary to the unanimous consent of the Fathers; even though such interpretations were never (intended) to be at any time published.
Contraveners shall be made known by their Ordinaries [i.e., bishops], and be punished with the penalties by law established.
The core of this statement is:
No one . . . shall—in matters of faith and of morals . . . —interpret the said sacred Scripture contrary to that sense which holy mother Church . . . hath held and doth hold; or even contrary to the unanimous consent of the Fathers; even though such interpretations were never (intended) to be at any time published.
4) What does this mean?
It means that the Council is establishing a law providing that—even in writings not intended for publication—Catholics are not to contradict (1) the teaching of the Church about the meaning of Scripture or (2) the unanimous consent of the Fathers about what it means, and if they do, their bishops can apply appropriate penalties.
5) Is this an infallible doctrine?
Here we encounter a major misunderstanding of the text.
Trent’s doctrinal decrees contain infallible teachings. These are found among its canons, which use the formula “If anyone says . . . let him be anathema”—anathema being a type of excommunication that existed at the time (not a condemnation to hell).
However, this is not a doctrinal decree but a reform decree. It does not have canons, and it does not use the requisite anathema formula, as the quotation above indicates.
Consequently, it’s establishing a discipline—a law—that barred Catholics from contradicting Church teaching or the unanimous consent of the Fathers about the meaning of Scripture, even in writings not intended for publication.
This law is based on doctrinal principles—which we will cover below—but it isn’t itself a doctrine. It’s a discipline regulating discourse within the Church (note the context, which deals with the edition of Scripture to be used in public, what book printers must and mustn’t do, how people are to avoid profaning God’s word).
The status of this requirement as a law was underscored by Pope Leo XIII (1878-1903), who referred to it as a “very wise law” (Providentissimus Deus 14) and by Pope Pius XII (1939-1958), who included it among “the rules and laws promulgated by the Church” (Divino Afflante Spiritu 47).
6) Does the decree mean that Catholics can’t interpret the Bible and must simply repeat what the Church or the Fathers say it means?
No. The decree doesn’t say anything so restrictive. Catholics are free to read and interpret the Scriptures.
The law merely established that they weren’t to contradict Church teaching or the unanimous consent of the Fathers when these sources had a definitive teaching on the meaning of a passage.
7) Are there many such passages?
No. Pope Pius XII pointed out in his encyclical Divino Afflante Spiritu:
There are but few texts whose sense has been defined by the authority of the Church, nor are those more numerous about which the teaching of the Holy Fathers is unanimous (n. 47).
Catholic biblical interpreters thus have a broad liberty of interpretation. As Leo XIII stated:
By this very wise law the Church by no means retards or blocks the investigations of biblical science, but rather keeps it free of error, and aids it very much in true progress. For, to every private teacher a large field is open in which along safe paths, by his industry in interpretation, he may labor efficaciously and profitably for the Church (Providentissimus Deus 14).
8) What is the status of the law today?
There is more to its legislative history than we can cover here, but the short answer is that it is no longer part of Church law per se.
Trent added the requirement to the body of canon law that existed at the time, which was scattered in many documents. Subsequently, Vatican I (1870) renewed the decree, and when canon law was codified (brought together in a single volume) in 1917, the first edition of the Code of Canon Law contained provisions that gave the requirement ongoing legal force.
However, Vatican II (1962-1965) did not repeat the requirement, and after the Council it was dropped from the legal instruments where it still existed.
When the 1983 Code of Canon Law was released, it abrogated both the 1917 Code and “any universal or particular penal laws whatsoever issued by the Apostolic See unless they are contained in this Code” (see can. 6, §1, 1° and 3°).
Consequently, canon law has been revised in a way that the decree no longer has legal force.
However, this does not mean that we don’t have to honor the doctrinal principles behind it.
9) What are the doctrinal principles behind the decree?
In the case of Catholics not contradicting the teaching of the Church regarding the meaning of Scripture, the decree spelled out the underlying doctrinal principle. Catholics aren’t to do this because the Church “is to judge of the true sense and interpretation of the holy Scriptures.”
That’s just as true today as ever, and Catholics are bound today to honor the teaching of the Church when it intervenes authoritatively on the meaning of a Scripture passage.
However, apart from a handful of cases, the Church presently gives interpreters very broad liberty in how they take particular passages (see my piece, The Limits of Scripture Interpretation).
Trent did not spell out the doctrinal principles underlying the requirement that Catholics not contradict the unanimous consent of the Fathers. However, it was explored by Leo XIII in Providentissimus Deus:
The Holy Fathers, we say, are of supreme authority, whenever they all interpret in one and the same manner any text of the Bible, as pertaining to the doctrine of faith or morals; for their unanimity clearly evinces that such interpretation has come down from the apostles as a matter of Catholic faith. The opinion of the Fathers is also of very great weight when they treat of these matters in their capacity of doctors, unofficially (n. 14).
Here he considers two different situations:
In the first situation, he says that their unanimity shows that “such interpretation has come down from the apostles as a matter of Catholic faith,” while in the second situation he says that their opinion is “of very great weight.”
We thus need to distinguish, in any given case, which of these two applies. If it is the latter then a modern interpreter needs to give the Fathers’ views due weight, but he is not ultimately bound to accept them.
If, however, something they teach is a matter of Catholic faith, then it is binding.
In fact, to say that something is “a matter of Catholic faith” is a term of art in theology that indicates an infallibly defined teaching.
This means that we need to situate Leo XIII’s statement within the doctrinal development that has occurred on when the Church teaches infallibly.
10) What doctrinal development has occurred on the Church’s infallibility?
When Leo XIII issued Providentissimus Deus in 1893, the First Vatican Council (1870) had met and defined papal infallibility.
However, because of the wars going on in Europe at the time, the Council was unable to complete its work, and it fell to Vatican II to formulate other aspects of the Church’s infallibility. This was done in its document Lumen Gentium.
It held that God has given the Church a charism of infallibility. This gift protects the Church as a whole from error in matters of belief (in credendo), and it protects the Church’s Magisterium from error in matters of teaching (in docendo). Infallibility manifests in the following ways:
The conditions for the first of these are discussed in Lumen Gentium 12 (cf. CDF, Mysterium Ecclesiae 2) and the others in Lumen Gentium 25.
11) How do the Fathers relate to these categories?
The Fathers were a mixed group. Some were bishops (e.g., St. Augustine), some priests (e.g., St. Jerome), some deacons (e.g., St. Ephrem the Syrian), and some lay faithful (e.g., St. Anthony of Egypt).
The Fathers as a whole thus do not represent the Church’s Magisterium, which consists only of the bishops teaching in union with the pope.
They would, however, be representative of the whole people of God in their day, and thus a unanimous consensus among them could be taken as an unerring manifestation of the sensus fidelium.
On the other hand, the Fathers who were bishops would be capable of exercising the Church’s infallibility, and a unanimous consensus among them could be taken as an infallible exercise of the ordinary magisterium.
12) How would a consensus of the Fathers as a whole manifest the unerring sensus fidelium?
According to Lumen Gentium 12:
The entire body of the faithful . . . cannot err in matters of belief. They manifest this special property by means of the whole peoples’ supernatural discernment in matters of faith when from the bishops down to the last of the lay faithful they show universal agreement in matters of faith and morals.
One of the keys to understanding this passage is recognizing that the Church’s infallibility applies “in matters of belief” (Latin, in credendo). This is a technical term referring to truths which must be believed as part of the faith, as opposed to mere theological opinions. They therefore represent things which have a definitive character—things that are to be held by the faithful definitively.
The passage then indicates that the unerring sense of the faithful is manifested in these matters when three conditions are met:
For the Fathers to fulfill these conditions regarding the interpretation of Scripture, we would need to understand them as representative of the people of God of their time, which is reasonable, thus fulfilling condition (1).
The Fathers then would need to show universal agreement, fulfilling condition (2). The precise nature of this agreement will be discussed below.
Finally, to fulfill condition (3), the matter in question would have to be the interpretation of a particular Scripture text involving “matters of faith and morals.” This is significant because, as Leo XIII noted in Providentissimus Deus:
[The Fathers], in interpreting passages where physical matters are concerned, have made judgments according to the opinions of the age, and thus not always according to truth, so that they have made statements which today are not approved. Therefore, we must carefully discern what they hand down which really pertains to faith or is intimately connected with it . . . for in those matters which are not under the obligation of faith, the saints were free to have different opinions, just as we are (n. 19).
Here the pontiff has in mind matters like the geocentric model of the cosmos, which was one of “the opinions of the age” in which the Fathers lived but which was a “physical matter” that did not “really pertain to faith.”
As noted above, the Fathers would have to be in agreement that this interpretation represents a mandatory belief for all Christians—that it is a belief to be held definitively.
This corresponds to Leo XIII’s distinction between what the Fathers hand on as “a matter of Catholic faith” versus what they teach “in their capacity of doctors, unofficially” (Providentissimus Deus 14).
13) How would the bishop Fathers exercise the ordinary magisterium infallibly?
According to Lumen Gentium 25:
[The bishops] 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.
The following conditions thus need to be met:
Conditions (1) and (2) represent the normal state of the Fathers.
Condition (3) corresponds to Leo XIII’s distinction between what the Fathers hand on as “a matter of Catholic faith” versus what they teach “in their capacity of doctors, unofficially” (Providentissimus Deus 14).
For it to be fulfilled in our context, the subject of their authoritative teaching would have to be the interpretation of a particular Scripture text regarding “matters of faith and morals”—as opposed, for example, to merely “physical matters” or “the opinions of the age” (Providentissimus Deus 19).
Finally, condition (4) would be fulfilled when they unanimously agree on this particular interpretation of Scripture “as definitively to be held.”
14) What kind of unanimity would the Fathers need to display?
The Church has not given us a mathematical way of determining what kind of consensus the Fathers would need to display either for the body as a whole to represent the unerring sense of the faithful or for the bishop Fathers to infallibly exercise the ordinary magisterium.
In fact, the difficulties of verifying when the conditions regarding these two modes of infallibility are met are the main reason we need the extraordinary magisterium (i.e., the infallible definitions issued by ecumenical councils and popes).
However, we can discern the general circumstances that need to occur:
It is frequently pointed out that absolute unanimity is not needed and that a moral unanimity suffices. This is true. However, the Fathers represent such a small number of individuals that even a few dissenting voices on a question would prevent us from describing their consensus as unanimous.
In fact, even a single, highly influential Father—such as an Augustine—who held a contrary view could be seen as preventing unanimity, though a Father of minor status might not.
In view of the difficulty in verifying that the needed conditions have been met, Pius XII’s judgment that the unanimous consent of the Fathers applies only to a few passages seems justified (Divino Afflante Spiritu 47).
Anyone who has worked with the texts of the Fathers knows that it is difficult to find cases where the above conditions have been fulfilled.
The Fathers are a relatively small group of individuals, often only a few of them comment on a given passage of Scripture, and when they do they frequently make different proposals about its meaning.
When there is a reasonable doubt, one must assume that infallibility has not been engaged, for “no doctrine is understood as defined infallibly unless this is manifestly evident” (Code of Canon Law 749 §3).
15) What’s the bottom line?
The concept of the unanimous consent of the Fathers is widely misunderstood.
Trent established a discipline that barred Catholics—even in writings not meant for publication—from contradicting the unanimous consent of the Fathers regarding the interpretation of Scripture.
This law remained in force until the 20th century, but it lost legal force following the Second Vatican Council.
However, the law was undergirded by important theological principles that remain in force and that have been illuminated by doctrinal development.
The unanimous consent of the Fathers as a whole can manifest the unerring sense of the faithful, and the bishops among the Fathers represented the Magisterium of their day and thus could teach infallibly under the usual conditions for the infallible exercise of the ordinary magisterium.
The number of cases where this applies to the interpretation of a particular passage of Scripture is small, but such cases must be taken seriously.
It’s common to encounter claims that the Roman emperor Domitian was a major persecutor of Christians and that he demanded divine worship, insisting on being called “Lord and God.”
It’s even common to hear these “facts” cited as important keys for determining the date and meaning of the book of Revelation, with Domitian serving as its famous “beast.”
But there’s a problem. Here are the real facts . . .
The Real Domitian
Domitian reigned between A.D. 81 and 96, and like all of the Roman emperors in this period, he had flaws.
Ancient authors even accuse him of being responsible for the death of his brother, Titus, who had preceded him in office.
He also angered the aristocracy, and he was eventually assassinated by court officials.
However, ancient Roman authors don’t accuse him of being the kind of monster that Caligula or Nero were.
Neither do the earliest Christian sources accuse him of instituting a major persecution of the Faith.
A False Narrative Develops
Biblical Archaeology Review recently ran a piece in which biblical scholar Mark Wilson looked at the origin of how the idea of a Domitianic persecution developed. He writes:
Eusebius in his Church History (CH) provides the first reference to Domitian persecuting the church.
Writing over three centuries later in the early fourth century C.E., this ancient Christian historian first quotes Melito of Sardis, who mentioned that Domitian brought slanderous accusations against Christians (CH 4.26.9).
He also cites Tertullian, who claimed that Domitian was cruel like the emperor Nero (r. 54–68 C.E.), but that Domitian was more intelligent, so he ceased his cruelty and recalled the Christians he had exiled (CH 3.20.9).
Eusebius also quotes Irenaeus, who claimed Domitian’s persecution consisted only of John’s banishment to Patmos and the exile of other Christians to the island of Pontia (CH 3.18.1, 5).
Despite these cautious statements by three earlier authors, Eusebius then spun his own alternative fact by claiming that Domitian, like Nero, had “stirred up persecution against us” (“anekinei diōgmon”; CH 3.17).
From here the tradition was enlarged by Orosius (d. 420 C.E.), who, in his History Against the Pagans, wrote that Domitian issued edicts for a general and cruel persecution (7.10.5).
Despite a lack of evidence, [Roman historian Brian] Jones observes that the tradition concerning Domitian’s persecution persists: “From a frail, almost non-existent basis, it gradually developed and grew large.”
Melito of Sardis and Irenaeus of Lyons were individuals who wrote in the late second century, less than a hundred years after Domitian’s reign, and Tertullian wrote at the end of the second and the beginning of the third centuries. They report only that he slandered Christians and exiled some. If they don’t provide evidence of a wide-scale persecution, then it’s very unlikely there was one. Furthermore:
No pagan writer of the time ever accused Domitian, as they had Nero, of persecuting Christians. Pliny [the Younger], for example, served as a lawyer under Domitian and wrote in a letter to Trajan (r. 98–117 C.E.) that he was never present at the trial of a Christian (Letters 10.96.1). This is a strange claim for one of Domitian’s former officials if Christian persecution were so prevalent.
“Lord and God”?
What about the claim that Domitian insisted on being worshipped as a god during his lifetime and even demanded the title “Lord and God” (Latin, Dominus et Deus)? Wilson writes:
The poet Statius (Silvae 1.6.83–84) states that Domitian rejected the title Dominus as his predecessor Augustus (the first Roman emperor) had done.
The historian Suetonius (Life of Domitian 13.2) does report that Domitian dictated a letter that began, “Our Lord and Master orders . . . ,” but it was only his sycophantic officials who began to address him in this way.
The story was again embellished by later historians to the point that Domitian is said to have ordered its use.
Jones thinks the story incredible because Domitian was known for his habitual attention to theological detail in traditional Roman worship, so he would not have adopted such inflammatory divine language.
After their deaths, the best that emperors could hope for was to be called Divus (Divine), not Deus (God).
If Domitian were such a megalomaniac who ordered worship to himself, why haven’t any inscriptions been found using this formula?
In fact, no epigraphic evidence exists attesting to Christians being forced to call him “Lord and God.”
The Last Refuge of a Failing Hypothesis
Wilson writes:
[Biblical scholar] Leonard Thompson notes that a more critical reading of Eusebius raises doubts about a widespread persecution of Christians under Domitian. He concludes that “most modern commentators no longer accept a Domitianic persecution of Christians.”
However, that hasn’t stopped some from trying to rescue the hypothesis:
Some writers consider Revelation as a source for a persecution by Domitian, although John never identifies a specific emperor. If so, then Revelation would be the only ancient source pointing to such a persecution.
This is a sign of a failing hypothesis: Using the very data that the hypothesis was supposed to illuminate to prop it up instead.
Revelation contains many things that are unclear, and the Domitianic hypothesis was supposed to be a historical certainty that could unlock Revelation and make its meaning clear. Instead, after we realized we don’t have evidence for a Domitianic persecution, the ambiguities in Revelation are now being used to prop up the idea that one occurred.
This is circular reasoning.
Breaking out of the Circle
In fact, we have good evidence that Revelation was written well before Domitian’s reign.
First, in Revelation 11:1-2, John is told:
Rise and measure the temple of God and the altar and those who worship there, but do not measure the court outside the temple; leave that out, for it is given over to the nations, and they will trample over the holy city for forty-two months.
This is an unambiguous reference to the temple in Jerusalem. It describes the temple as still in operation (“those who worship there”). But the temple was destroyed by Roman forces in August of A.D. 70, indicating that Revelation was written before this date.
Second, in Revelation 13:18, we read:
This calls for wisdom: let him who has understanding reckon the number of the beast, for it is a human number [lit., “the number of a man”], its number is six hundred and sixty-six.
A few manuscripts give the number as 616 instead of 666.
From elsewhere in Revelation, we learn that the beast is linked to a line of kings that rules the world, that it demands worship, and that it persecutes Christians. This sounds very much like the line of Roman emperors—especially Caligula and Nero, who portrayed themselves as living gods—and it so happens that both 666 and 616 are the numbers you get when you add up the letters in different ways of spelling “Nero Caesar.”
Nero—the fifth Roman emperor—reigned from A.D. 54 to 68, which suggests that he was or had been on the scene, allowing the original readers to calculate his number.
That would put the writing of Revelation sometime between A.D. 54 and 70. But can we be more specific? We can.
Third, in Revelation 17:9-10 we read:
This calls for a mind with wisdom: the seven heads [of the beast] are seven mountains on which the woman is seated; they are also seven kings, five of whom have fallen, one is, the other has not yet come, and when he comes he must remain only a little while.
The most natural reading of this is that the kings are the line of Roman emperors, who reigned from Rome’s famous seven hills. The first five emperors were Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, and Nero. These are the five who are fallen.
The “one [who] is” would be the sixth emperor—Galba—who reigned from June of 68 to January of 69.
The “other [who] has not yet come” would be the seventh emperor—Otho—and he did, indeed, reign “only a little while,” from January of 69 to April of 69—just three months.
This would put the writing of Revelation during the reign of Galba, between June of 68 and January of 69.
Once we detach Revelation from the idea of a non-existent, lethal persecution under Domitian, so much falls into place.
At Catholic Answers, we get questions all the time like, “What is the Catholic position on this Scripture passage?” Many people seem to have the idea that the Catholic Church has an official interpretation of every passage of Scripture. It isn’t true.
The Church has no official commentary on Scripture. The pope could write one if he wanted, but he hasn’t. And with good reason: Scripture study is an ongoing, developing field. To create an official commentary on Scripture would impede the development of this field.
It’s one thing to create an official textbook for a field that has been fairly well worked out. That’s the case with catechetics, which is why the Church can produce a text like The Catechism of the Catholic Church.
Catechetics can be viewed as the applied science of giving instruction in the faith, and the faith is something we’ve known well for a long time. Not only was it “once for all delivered to the saints” (Jude 3) back in the first century, we have had twenty centuries of practice to show us which ways of explicating the faith tend to lead to misunderstandings. All that gives us a good handle on what would need to go into an official catechetical text commenting on all the major points of the faith.
But the field of Scripture study does not allow for anything like that. One reason is that the Bible is so much larger in scope. One could provide an adequate summary of the basics of the faith in a few hundred well-crafted propositions. But Scripture contains tens of thousands of individual propositions, and to comment on the authentic meaning of each of them would swell the needed number of propositions into the hundreds of thousands or millions. And that is before one takes into account two complicating factors:
First, Scripture has more than one level of meaning. The two basic levels are the literal and the spiritual senses, the latter of which may contain up to three different kinds of meanings, depending on whether it foreshadows something in the New Testament, something at the end of time, or what moral lesson it may teach. Since the literal sense and the subdivisions of the spiritual sense can each be ambiguous (that is, they can carry more than one meaning by the author’s design), the multiplicity of meanings would guarantee that a commentary on the meaning of Scripture would run into the millions of propositions.
Second, while the Holy Spirit has always maintained in the Church a consensus on the individual points of the faith, he did not choose to do so for the individual propositions of Scripture. As a result, there is widespread debate over the correct interpretations of particular texts. In preparing an official commentary on Scripture, the Church would either have to catalogue each permissible interpretation—further multiplying the size of the work—or settle hundreds of thousands of individual debates.
All of this serves to show why the Church has never undertaken the composition of an official Bible commentary. The project would involve a massive expenditure of the Church’s resources when there is simply no pressing need to do so.
It is much simpler to adopt the approach that the Church has in fact pursued—that is, to allow Scripture scholars liberty to interpret any Bible passage in whatever way they feel the evidence best supports provided certain minimal boundaries are not crossed.
What are those boundaries? They have changed somewhat over time.
For example, earlier this century the Pontifical Biblical Commission (PBC) was a body capable of issuing authoritative rulings on what could and could not be taught regarding Scripture. As biblical higher criticism gained ground, the PBC initially issued rulings that held the ideas of the new study in significant disdain, and in some cases forbade the teaching of certain ideas that had been derived using this methodology.
Eventually the nature and mandate of the PBC changed, and its rulings ceased to have force. We may view that either as a bad thing or a good thing, but it’s a fact.
Though today the PBC’s disciplinary rulings are no longer in force, the boundaries that mark off impermissible interpretations of Scripture are still known. The Catechism of the Catholic Church notes that Vatican II enumerated three criteria (CCC 111; cf. Dei Verbum 12), each of which has a long history in biblical interpretation.
The first of these was that “serious attention must be given to the content and unity of the whole of Scripture if the meaning of the sacred texts is to be correctly worked out” (DV 12). This means that no properly understood assertion of Scripture will ever contradict another. If it does so, it must be a false interpretation.
The second criteria was that “the living tradition of the whole Church must be taken into account” when interpreting Scripture (ibid.).
Among other things, the judgment of the Church’s magisterium must not be violated. As when evaluating ecclesiastical statements in general, the strength with which the Church’s judgment has been proposed must be taken into account. The highest form of Church approbation regarding the interpretation of a verse would be for the magisterium to infallibly define the sense of the verse—or a part of its sense. This has been done in a small number of cases.
Only a few passages of Scripture have had their senses partially (not fully) defined by the extraordinary magisterium. For example, according to the Council of Trent:
(1) The reference being “born of water and the Spirit” in John 3:5 does include the idea of baptism.
(2–3) In telling the apostles “Do this [the Eucharist] in memory of me” in Luke 22:19 and 1 Corinthians 11:24, Jesus appointed the apostles priests.
(4–5) In Matthew 18:18 and John 20:22–23, Jesus did confer a power on the apostles to forgive sins, and not everyone shares this power.
(6) Romans 5:12 refers to the reality of original sin.
(7) The presbyters referred to in James 5:14 are ordained and not simply elder members of the Christian community.
Finally, the third limiting criterion named by Vatican II was that the exegete must also take into account “the harmony which exists between elements of the faith” (DV 12), which the Catechism expresses by stating that the exegete must “be attentive to the analogy of faith. . . . [i.e.,] the coherence of the truths of faith among themselves and within the whole plan of revelation” (CCC 114). This means that Scripture cannot be interpreted in a way that contradicts what is theologically certain.
In addition to these definite boundaries to permissible biblical interpretations, there are also influences that should apply to the process of interpreting Scripture. If other books of Scripture probably—though not certainly—teach something, then that should influence the way a given book is read. If the magisterium leans toward but has not infallibly proposed a particular interpretation, that should have a corresponding influence.
The liberty of the Scripture interpreter remains extensive. Taking due consideration of the factors that influence proper exegesis, the Catholic Bible interpreter has the liberty to adopt any interpretation of a passage that is not excluded with certainty by other passages of Scripture, by the judgment of the magisterium, or by the analogy of faith. That is a great deal of liberty, as only a few interpretations will be excluded with certainty by any of the factors circumscribing the interpreter’s liberty
Sunday, August 12, is the Nineteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year B). Mass Readings: 1 Kings 19:4-8, Psalm 34:2-9, Ephesians 4:30-5:2, John 6:41-51
* * *
Israel’s wicked king and queen had slain the prophets of the Lord and threatened to kill the prophet Elijah, too. In despair, and aware of his own unworthiness, Elijah fled into the wilderness and begged God to take his life. Instead, God did the unexpected. He sent an angel who miraculously provided bread and water for the prophet, to give him strength for a long journey to the mountain of God.
When we are at the point of despair, God can reach into our lives also and draw us to him. Depending on where we’re starting from, that may involve a long journey. But God will provide for our needs, even in surprising ways. Then, like the Psalmist, we will be able to share the good news of what he has done for us: “This poor soul cried, and was heard by the Lord, and was saved from every trouble.”
God’s love for us precedes our love for him. He is the one who takes the initiative in drawing us to him. Jesus tells us, “No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father who sent me.” In his love, God offers the possibility of salvation to everyone. The Second Vatican Council taught: “Since Christ died for all men, and since the ultimate vocation of man is in fact one, and divine, we ought to believe that the Holy Spirit in a manner known only to God offers to every man the possibility of being associated with this paschal mystery” (Gaudium et Spes 22).
Our task is to respond to God’s call and to trust him to provide for our needs, no matter how long or difficult the journey may seem. Just as God provided for Elijah with miraculous food and drink, he does the same for us. Jesus gives himself to us in the Eucharist: “Growth in Christian life needs the nourishment of Eucharistic Communion, the bread for our pilgrimage until the moment of death” (CCC 1392).
No gift is greater than that of Jesus himself. “Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died.” But Jesus is “the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever.” The idea that Jesus would give us his own flesh and blood in the Eucharist is amazing—as is the fact he would willingly die on the Cross for our salvation.
In response to such surprising acts of love, we have a duty to make them known to others: “My soul makes its boast in the Lord; let the humble hear and be glad.” We also have a duty to love others and make sacrifices to help them, for they are also on their own journeys and will one day meet God face-to-face. We must allow God to use us as means to help them, to provide for their needs, by following Jesus’ own example: “Be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”
Every week, Jimmy Akin and Dom Bettinelli explore the weird, the strange, and the unusual from the perspectives of faith and reason. In this first episode, Jimmy and Dom talk about ghosts, what they could be, how they fit in a Catholic understanding of the world, and what a rational mind says about them.
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On August 1, Cardinal Luis Ladaria issued a letter to the bishops of the world announcing that Pope Francis had approved a change to the section of the Catechism of the Catholic Church dealing with the death penalty.
Here are some key facts for understanding this revision . . .
What does the Catechism now say?
The relevant passage now reads:
2267 Recourse to the death penalty on the part of legitimate authority, following a fair trial, was long considered an appropriate response to the gravity of certain crimes and an acceptable, albeit extreme, means of safeguarding the common good.
Today, however, there is an increasing awareness that the dignity of the person is not lost even after the commission of very serious crimes. In addition, a new understanding has emerged of the significance of penal sanctions imposed by the state. Lastly, more effective systems of detention have been developed, which ensure the due protection of citizens but, at the same time, do not definitively deprive the guilty of the possibility of redemption.
Consequently, the Church teaches, in the light of the Gospel, that “the death penalty is inadmissible because it is an attack on the inviolability and dignity of the person” (Francis, Discourse, Oct. 11, 2017), and she works with determination for its abolition worldwide.
For a history of what the Catechism formerly said, see here.
Is this revision a surprise?
Not really. The last several popes—St. John Paul II, Benedict XVI, and Francis—have taken a negative tone toward the death penalty, and the Catechism had already been revised once to reflect this. In addition, Cardinal Ladaria explains:
The Holy Father Pope Francis, in his Discourse on the occasion of the twenty-fifth anniversary of the publication of the apostolic constitution Fidei Depositum, by which John Paul II promulgated the Catechism of the Catholic Church, asked that the teaching on the death penalty be reformulated so as to better reflect the development of the doctrine on this point that has taken place in recent times (1).
We thus already knew that a revision was under consideration.
Is this new revision an exercise of papal infallibility?
No. Although many individual teachings in the Catechism have previously been taught infallibly, the Catechism itself is not an infallible document. This is one reason it is capable of being revised.
To understand the level of authority of an individual teaching, one must look at the circumstances of an individual act of teaching to determine what level of authority it has.
As Cardinal Ladaria explains in his letter, Pope Francis approved the new revision that the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF) proposed, but he did not issue it in a document of his own. This is significant for two reasons:
What level of authority does the new revision have?
According to Cardinal Ladaria:
The new revision of number 2267 of the Catechism of the Catholic Church, approved by Pope Francis, situates itself in continuity with the preceding Magisterium while bringing forth a coherent development of Catholic doctrine (7).
As a doctrinal development, it would qualify as authoritative teaching (as opposed to mere theological opinion), and it would qualify as non-definitive (i.e., non-infallible) Church teaching.
According to Vatican II, such teachings call for “religious submission of mind and will” on the part of the faithful.
What if I have trouble accepting this teaching?
The Church recognizes that individuals can have difficulties accepting non-definitive Church teaching and that, in some cases, they may find themselves unable to accept them.
This situation is addressed—with specific application to theologians—in a 1990 instruction from the CDF known as Donum Veritatis, which states:
Such a disagreement could not be justified if it were based solely upon the fact that the validity of the given teaching is not evident or upon the opinion that the opposite position would be the more probable. Nor, furthermore, would the judgment of the subjective conscience of the theologian justify it because conscience does not constitute an autonomous and exclusive authority for deciding the truth of a doctrine.
In any case there should never be a diminishment of that fundamental openness loyally to accept the teaching of the Magisterium as is fitting for every believer by reason of the obedience of faith. The theologian will strive then to understand this teaching in its contents, arguments, and purposes. This will mean an intense and patient reflection on his part and a readiness, if need be, to revise his own opinions and examine the objections which his colleagues might offer him (28-29).
Donum Veritatis further states:
It can also happen that at the conclusion of a serious study, undertaken with the desire to heed the Magisterium’s teaching without hesitation, the theologian’s difficulty remains because the arguments to the contrary seem more persuasive to him. Faced with a proposition to which he feels he cannot give his intellectual assent, the theologian nevertheless has the duty to remain open to a deeper examination of the question (31).
Of course, having a private disagreement does not entail a right to publicly oppose Church teaching. Fortunately, those experiencing such difficulties can have the consolation that the Holy Spirit is guiding the Church “into all the truth” (John 16:13).
For a loyal spirit, animated by love for the Church, such a situation can certainly prove a difficult trial. It can be a call to suffer for the truth, in silence and prayer, but with the certainty that if the truth really is at stake, it will ultimately prevail (31).
Does the new revision indicate that the death penalty is intrinsically evil?
One might think so, since it says the death penalty is “inadmissible” because “it is an attack on the inviolability and dignity of the person.” However, a careful reading of the revision, and Cardinal Ladaria’s letter, suggests this is not the way the phrase should be understood. (Msgr. Charles Pope reaches the same conclusion.)
First, the revision notes that “a new understanding has emerged of the significance of penal sanctions imposed by the state.”
This refers to the fact that in the past the state’s penal sanctions were understood principally as administering justice (including divine justice) to wrongdoers, but today the Church understands them principally as seeking to protect society and (hopefully) rehabilitate the offender (see Ladaria 7 and the changes made to paragraph 2266 in the Catechism).
Second, in light of this new understanding of the function of the state’s penal sanctions, the death penalty could still be justified as a means of protecting society.
However, according to the revision, “more effective systems of detention have been developed, which ensure the due protection of citizens but, at the same time, do not definitively deprive the guilty of the possibility of redemption.”
From these considerations, one could understand the death penalty as something that involves “an attack on the inviolability and dignity of the person” but an attack that could be tolerated or even required in situations where there is no other way to effectively protect society.
This understanding appears to be confirmed by Cardinal Ladaria, who seems prepared to acknowledge that “the political and social situation of the past made the death penalty an acceptable means for the protection of the common good” (2).
He further seems prepared to acknowledge that, as in the previous edition of the Catechism, “it can be justified if it is ‘the only practicable way to defend the lives of human beings effectively against the aggressor’” (3).
He states that “given that modern society possesses more efficient detention systems, the death penalty becomes unnecessary as protection for the life of innocent people,” though, “certainly, it remains the duty of public authorities to defend the life of citizens” (7). He thus concludes:
All of this shows that the new formulation of number 2267 of the Catechism expresses an authentic development of doctrine that is not in contradiction with the prior teachings of the Magisterium. These teachings, in fact, can be explained in the light of the primary responsibility of the public authority to protect the common good in a social context in which the penal sanctions were understood differently, and had developed in an environment in which it was more difficult to guarantee that the criminal could not repeat his crime (8).
The new revision would be “in contradiction with the prior teachings of the Magisterium” if it held that the death penalty was intrinsically evil and thus had always been wrong in the past. Instead, Cardinal Ladaria indicates that the revision is warranted by the changed understanding of the state’s penal sanctions and the development of more effective detention systems.
If the death penalty is not being judged intrinsically evil, what has changed?
It appears that Pope Francis has made a prudential judgment that, given present circumstances in society, there are no longer situations in which the death penalty is warranted.
Consequently, this judgment has been added to the social doctrine of the Church, which applies the underlying principles of its moral doctrine to concrete situations in society.
The underlying moral principles have not changed, but, in Pope Francis’s judgment, society has changed in a way that requires a different application of them.
This judgment is now reflected in the Church’s social doctrine, without contradicting prior teaching on the underlying moral principles. Thus Cardinal Ladaria says that the new formulation “expresses an authentic development of doctrine that is not in contradiction with the prior teachings of the Magisterium.” It is the Church’s social doctrine that has developed, and its prior moral teachings have not been contradicted.
This version of The Weekly Francis covers material released in the last week from 15 July 2018 to 8 August 2018.
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