Cardinal Gerhard Müller, former Cardinal-Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, recently said the following: “The authority to forgive sins is conferred by Christ Himself in the sacrament of Holy Orders, not by the Pope through his primacy of jurisdiction…”

This was in the midst of answering a question concerning the validity of sacramental confessions at SSPX chapels. Hence, this is simply a premise in the midst of a larger argument by His Eminence. In this article, I do not wish to question the conclusion that he draws from this premise, but the very premise itself: the idea that the authority to absolve is granted in ordination, rather than requiring that it be granted as an act of the power of jurisdiction.

It is important to remember that Cardinal Müller is a prince of the Church and a prominent theologian. It is better to assume that he has misspoken on this matter than to impute error. Yet, as I will note, this question is a much more detailed one than many commentators on the statement of His Eminence have realized. Hence, we ought to set this question forth in all its clarity.

The Power of Orders and Power of Jurisdiction

In order to understand the dispute, we must understand a basic distinction in sacramental theology.

a) The power of orders (potestas ordinis) is the power of administering sacred things, especially the sacraments. It is given by Christ in the sacrament of orders. This is something that consists in the sacramental character that permanently (”indelibly”) resides in the soul of the priest as a participation in Christ’s priesthood. The sacramental character gives the priest the ability to do things like consecrate the Eucharist.

While this potestas ordinis grants a participation in the priesthood of Christ and an ability to bless, consecrate, anoint, etc., it does not give the authority that might be possessed by a ruler or judge. The priest, from his orders, does not have the authority to command me to obey, rule my actions, or impose any sort of moral obligation on me towards him. Hence, there is a second power in the Church:

b) The power of jurisdiction (potestas jurisdictionis) grants a certain executive power. From this, there is a certain right to establish law and a corresponding obligation of others to obey. One is now able to command, to rule, and to judge over the flock over whom he has jurisdiction. This is most obvious when it comes to offices that grant jurisdiction in the external forum, e.g., a pastor over a parish, an ordinary over a diocese, or the pope over the Church. Yet, this can take a number of different forms, including power over the internal forum, e.g., acts of judging sins.

To give a stark example, the Papacy is an office that is constituted primarily by the power of jurisdiction, not by an order. It is for this reason that a layman, elected Pope, upon receiving the election, would still be Pope and have the power of jurisdiction, even without Holy Orders. This same distinction between election and ordination can also occur for parish priests and ordinaries of dioceses.

Further, this is also why many Protestant arguments pointing to a multiplicity of Bishops in Rome throughout her history do little in disproving the Papacy (since we do not claim a unity of those with x grade of Holy Orders in Rome, but a unity of one with the supreme power of jurisdiction in the Church).

The Possible Questions

It is clearly required that one who validly absolves be a priest (i.e., have the potestas ordinis), yet we can ask further questions about the potestas jurisdictionis.

First, does the priest even need the potestas jurisdictionis to validly absolve? Namely, whether the absolving priest needs both powers, or whether a priest can absolve with holy orders alone.

Second, is this potestas jurisdictionis dependent on ecclesiastical authority? This asks the further question about the instrument in granting the potestas jurisdictionis: is it something that is antecedent to the grant of the Church and given in ordination, or is it something that is consequent to the grant of the Church?

Third, what is the mode of dependence of the potestas jurisdictionis on the Church? This asks whether the Church causally confers the potestas jurisdictionis on the priest, or whether the Church merely removes an impediment to its exercise, which is partially caused by the potestas ordinis.

As we can see, the question of the relationship between the potestas jurisdictionis, ordination, and valid confessions is not so simple. While answering wrongly on some of these questions garners grave censures and constitutes teaching that is clearly contrary to the declarations of the Church, other questions have been answered differently by different theological schools.

The First Question

First, there is the opinion of the Protestants, who (for the most part) deny the distinction and hence do not believe that it is necessary. These are obviously incorrect.

Second, there is the opinion of certain pre-Tridentine theologians who so weaken the potestas jurisdictionis that they hold that it practically consists in declaring forgiven those sins that are already forgiven through contrition.

Third, Catholic authors after Trent universally hold that the potestas jurisdictionis is necessary for the validity of absolution.

The relevant documents of the Church will be contained among those cited concerning the second question.

The Second Question

First, there is the opinion of the Jansenists, who hold that the potestas jurisdictionis has no dependence on the Church, being given in the very ordination of priests itself.

Second, there is the opinion of a minority of Catholic theologians who hold that the potestas jurisdictionis is ordinarily dependent on the Church, but in certain cases (e.g., danger of death) the power of orders sufficiently grants jurisdiction. This was even held by some Thomists, such as Capreolus, Cajetan, Cano, and Soto.

Others say that in non-necessary matters, there is no notion of jurisdiction; hence, it is granted by the power of orders. Although there is significant disagreement, some holding it of venial sins alone, others of venial sins and previously confessed mortal sins, and still others of all sins when the confession is taken freely (i.e., when the law of the Church does not require it). The arguments given are various; hence, I will not recount and refute each of them.

Third, the common and certain opinion is that the potestas jurisdictionis is granted by the Church for all sins, both necessary and non-necessary. Doronzo states that the former doctrine on necessary matter is theologically certain due to the teaching documents of the Church, while the latter doctrine on non-necessary matter is common and cannot be denied without temerity.

This is taught by the Fourth Lateran Council (D 437), the Council of Florence (D 699), and the Council of Trent (Session 14, cap. vii; Session 23, cap. xv), along with the Roman Ritual and Code of Canon Law (e.g., in the 1917 Code, can. 872f). There is also Bl. Innocent XI’s rejection of the opinion that simple priests have the authority to absolve from venial sins without proper jurisdiction (Cum ad aures of Feb. 12, 1679).

Hence, the praxis of the Church (as recorded by Lateran IV) from the 8th century to the Council of Trent has generally been that one could not receive valid absolution from a priest who is not his own without proper permission (cf. St. Thomas, ST.IIISup.Q8.A4-5, ContraImpu.C4). Further, there is also the case of the reservation of certain sins to a higher grade (whether Episcopal or Papal), which has been continuously vindicated by the Church against many heretics who sought to deny this authority.

Trent places under anathema the teaching that the absolution of a sin reserved to the bishop, given by a simple priest, is valid. From this, it immediately follows that the jurisdiction to validly absolve comes from the hierarchy of the Church. For this reason, certain theologians declare the doctrine de fide, although (since it is a conclusion) it is better to follow Doronzo in his judgment that this is merely theologically certain.

Yet, the clearest example is found in Pius VI’s condemnation of the errors of Jansenism in Auctorem fidei: “The teaching of the synod, which declares concerning the authority for absolving received through ordination that ‘after the institution of dioceses and parishes, it is fitting that each one exercise this judgment over those persons subject to him either by reason of territory or some personal right,’ because ‘otherwise confusion and disturbance would be introduced’; since it declares that, in order to prevent confusion, after dioceses and parishes have been instituted, it is merely fitting that the power of absolving be exercised upon subjects; so understood, as if for the valid use of this power there is no need of ordinary or delegated jurisdiction, without which the Tridentine Synod declares that absolution conferred by a priest is of no value,—false, rash, dangerous, contrary and injurious to the Tridentine Synod, erroneous.”

The Third Question

There are three opinions as to the third question, each of which is held by Catholic authors. All concede that the Church grants the potestas jurisdictionis, yet each in a different way.

The first opinion holds that the Church simply removes an impediment so that the potestas jurisdictionis may be in act. Hence, according to this opinion, the potestas ordinis grants the habitual possession of the potestas jurisdictionis, but not the actual possession of such. Many authors hold with this opinion that, without the prohibition of the Church, the potestas ordinis naturally flows into act and grants the potestas jurisdictionis. Yet, since the Church has positively decreed that there be an impediment by a right given to it by Christ, there is an impediment that must be removed, the Church acting as an impediment or as a condition, yet not as a cause.

The second opinion, on the other hand, holds that the Church grants the potestas jurisdictionis as a cause mediating this power, but as completing what is in partial act already given in the potestas ordinis in an inchoate manner. Hence, the Church and potestas ordinis act as partial causes of the potestas jurisdictionis. This opinion, contrary to the first, holds the Church as a true cause; yet, contrary to the third, it holds that, antecedent to the grant of the Church, the potestas jurisdictionis is in partial act.

The third opinion holds that the potestas ordinis does not grant the potestas jurisdictionis in any way, whether habitually or inchoately. Rather, ordination simply grants the potestas ordinis, and the Church grants the potestas jurisdictionis. From this, it is concluded that there is a perfect distinction between the two powers. Yet, it should not be said that there is no relation whatsoever between the two powers. These authors hold that the potestas ordinis has a certain aptitude towards the potestas jurisdictionis insofar as the latter completes the former as providing the full and perfect power for the sanctification of men and the worship of God. This is the opinion held by the most eminent authors: St. Albert the Great, St. Thomas (ST.IIISup.Q8, ST.IIISup.Q17.A2.Rep2, ST.IIISup.Q19.A6, ST.IIISup.Q20.A1.Rep1, ST.II-II.Q39.A3, SCG4.C72, QXII.Q18.A1, etc.), St. Bonaventure, Suarez, Lugo, the Salmanticenses, Billuart, St. Alphonsus, etc.

Certain authors (e.g., Lugo) hold that the opinions seem to differ merely in manner of speaking insofar as an aptitudinal jurisdiction could also be described as an inchoate jurisdiction (although remote and not proximate), or, as the Salmanticenses and Billuart say, provides a moral, but not a physical, power of jurisdiction.

Conclusion

Unfortunately, the statement by His Eminence is not entirely clear. If, by this, Cardinal Müller meant to indicate that the potestas ordinis grants the potestas jurisdictionis in a certain sense (whether in an inchoate manner or habitually), then this is a minority opinion that is held by certain theologians. Yet, it is difficult to take it in this sense. For His Eminence quite clearly denies that it is given “by the Pope through his primacy of jurisdiction” and uses this to reject that the Pope could remove this power from the Society. Hence, without clarification, it seems quite clear that His Eminence has fallen into the error of those who affirm that the potestas jurisdictionis is given in act with the potestas ordinis, the opinion held by the Jansenists.

A. What is Grace? To begin, it is important to define what Latin authors mean when they use the term “grace.” To ask the question “is grace created?” without knowing the meaning of the terms involved would be a ridiculous endeavor fraught with equivocation. This is especially the case with a term like “grace.” The term has been used to indicate everything from some disposition on the part of God (“God’s grace towards sinners”) to an action of thanksgiving on the part of man (“it is good to say grace before meals”). Yet, the fundamental sense in which we use the term grace is to refer to a certain type of gift.

That this is the fundamental sense appears from our comparison of “grace” in the third sense with “grace” in the first two senses. When we speak of “God’s grace” as a disposition of God, we are really speaking of his disposition towards giving certain gifts. Further, when we speak of grace as an act of man towards God, we are speaking of his acknowledgement of certain gifts given by God to men.

B. Which Question Are We Asking? When we ask the question “is grace created?” which of these three senses do we actually mean to indicate? In the first sense, the disposition of God on the part of God is obviously uncreated. It is a Divine Attribute akin to mercy. In the third sense, an act on the part of man acknowledging God is obviously something that is created. It is a finite action that has the will as its principle.

Hence, what we really mean to ask when we ask “is grace created? is whether the gifts given by God are created or not. This might seem like a simple question to ask, yet even this is wrought with difficulties. In this sense, as St. Augustine points out, even creation is a grace! Hence, it will be important to give further distinctions as to the gifts of God that we are speaking of in order to answer the question properly.

C. Graces in the Third Sense. In the third sense, graces refer to any sort of gift given to men. These gifts may either be of the natural order (e.g., life, food, existence, etc.) or of the supernatural order. In the supernatural order, these gifts are either external (e.g., the Church, Scripture, etc.) or internal. The internal supernatural gifts are either personal (i.e., the persons of the Trinity), actual (i.e., the actual influx of God in the soul), or habitual (i.e., certain inclinations of the soul given by God).

Hence, as you can see, there are a number of different questions that can be answered, which will be treated one-by-one.

Question 1. Are the gifts of the natural order uncreated? R. No, the gifts of the natural order are created. This is commonly affirmed.

Question 2. Are the external gifts of the supernatural order uncreated? R. Ordinarily, we ought to answer that they are created due to the fact that these are realities that were formed by the will of God in time as an act of Divine Liberality. For example, the Bible is something that is created insofar as it essentially consists of certain conventional signs that God has inspired men to write down. One could distinguish as to the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist insofar as something uncreated (i.e., the Divinity of Christ) is present concomitantly.

Question 3. Is the internal, personal gift something uncreated? R. In no sense is the gift of the Persons of the Trinity something created. In theology, we refer to this as the “invisible missions” of the Trinity. Hence, we affirm that the Three Persons of the Blessed Trinity reside in the soul of the just. This is clearly and obviously taught in Sacred Scripture and affirmed by Catholic Theologians. In fact, Catholic Theologians frequently critique Eastern schismatics for their affirmation that only the gifts (energies) of God come to reside in the souls of the just, rather than the Persons of the Trinity themselves.

Question 4. Are the actual graces of God something uncreated? R. When we speak of activity, we can speak of activity as wrought by the agent or we can speak of activity as received by and in the patient. To give an analogy, when we throw a rock into water, we can either refer to the activity of the rock as acting on the water or we can refer to the water as it is effected and changed and moved by the activity. The former is something residing in the agent and taking upon itself the character of the agent and the latter is something residing in the patient. When it comes to actual graces, on the side of God operating, it is something uncreated (the very operation of God), yet on the side of the activity residing in and affecting the patient, it is something created (as it is the motion of a creature).

Question 5. Are the habitual graces of God something uncreated? R. The habitual graces, by their very nature, are a) effects of God that conform us to Himself as exemplar, and b) qualities that reside in the soul. From both of these facts, it necessarily follows that it is something that is created. For, nothing that is an effect of God is essentially uncreated, since it is of the very nature of a created thing that it proceed from another as from an efficient cause in its being. Further, nothing uncreated can be the accident of another since accidents, by their very nature, suffer from dependence on another, i.e., existence in another.

This is also something that is supported in Scripture, which distinguishes quite clearly between the uncreated gift (i.e., the Holy Spirit) and the created gift (i.e., sanctifying grace) within us. Hence, when describing the effects of Justification, St. Paul says that we are “created in Christ Jesus for good works” (Eph. 2:10), which is further reflected in other passages describing the effects of justification as a creation or re-creation (e.g., 2 Cor. 5:17, Gal. 6:15). Now, habits are as the root and principle of a certain operation. Therefore, that which is created within us for good works are the habits given to us in justification (i.e., habitual graces).

This same doctrine is intimated for similar reasons by St. Paul’s statement that we are “created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness.” (Eph 4:24) Here, St. Paul clearly identifies qualities that have their exemplar in God (i.e., justice and holiness), yet teaches that this is something that is created within us (i.e., “in the spirit of our minds,” which indicates that these are qualities inhering in our souls as a “new nature,” which is a quite clear description of some habit).

The decree is as follows:

Despite the admonitions addressed to the Superior General of the Society of Saint Pius X, Bishop Alfonso de Galarreta, having committed an act of a schismatic nature by means of the episcopal consecration of four presbyters, without pontifical mandate and against the will of the Supreme Pontiff, has incurred ipso facto the penalties provided for by can. 1387 and can. 1364 §1 of the CIC 2021.

I therefore declare, for all juridical purposes, that both the aforementioned Bishop Alfonso de Galarreta and Pascal Schreiber, Michael Goldade, Michel Poinsinet de Sivry, and Marc Hanappier have incurred ipso facto the latae sententiae excommunication reserved to the Apostolic See.

I further declare that Bishop Bernard Fellay, having directly participated in the liturgical celebration as co-consecrator, and having thereby publicly adhered to the schismatic act, has incurred the latae sententiae excommunication provided for by can. 1364 §1 of the CIC 2021.

Clerics and lay faithful are admonished not to adhere to the schism of the Society of Saint Pius X, for they would incur ipso facto the penalty of latae sententiae excommunication.

The explanatory note treats the question in more detail and clarifies the status of clerics and laymen involved in the Society, along with the validity of their sacraments:

From the time of St. Paul VI until the most recent conversations held at this Dicastery, the manifold attempts to bring back those adhering to the movement begun by Msgr. Marcel Lefebvre to full communion with the Catholic Church have proven vain. This situation has been further aggravated by the recent episcopal consecrations celebrated without pontifical mandate, against the will of the Holy Father, in open violation of canon law. Therefore, this Dicastery, in the faithful exercise of the functions entrusted to it, holds it necessary to note that this act has configured the offense of schism, with the canonical consequences for the sacred ministers and for the lay faithful involved. Indeed, as already declared in 1988, “such disobedience—which carries with it a practical rejection of the Roman Primacy—constitutes a schismatic act” (cf. John Paul II, Apostolic Letter Ecclesia Dei, 3).

In this regard, henceforth:

1. Sacred ministers belonging to the Society of St. Pius X are in schism and must therefore be considered schismatic (cf. Ecclesia Dei, 5 c; Pontifical Council for Legislative Texts, Explanatory Note on the Excommunication for Schism Incurred by Adherents to the Movement of Bishop Marcel Lefebvre, 24 August 1996, 5–6), and are subject to the excommunication provided by law (can. 1364 §1 CIC).

2. As regards the lay faithful, those are to be held schismatic and excommunicated who formally adhere to the Society of St. Pius X under the conditions established in the Explanatory Note of the Pontifical Council for Legislative Texts of 1996 (cf. ibidem, 7), still in force, which this Dicastery makes its own.

3. Finally, the holy People of God are advised that the sacred ministers of the Society of St. Pius X illicitly (illicite) administer the sacraments, and that the sacrament of penance administered by them, and the marriages assisted by them, are invalid (invalida).

The Church, as a solicitous mother, will welcome with sincere affection and lively concern all those who wish to return to full communion. The Apostolic Nuncios will arrange the procedures which the Ordinaries may use in the various cases.

Finally, all the faithful are exhorted to remain steadfast in communion with the Roman Pontiff, with the Bishops in communion with him, and with the whole Church (cf. Lumen Gentium, 22; can. 751 CIC), and to abstain from participating in the celebrations and activities promoted by the aforementioned Society of St. Pius X.

Before I get to my own analysis of these texts, there is an interesting line I want to highlight: “under the conditions established in the Explanatory Note of the Pontifical Council for Legislative Texts of 1996, still in force, which this Dicastery makes its own.” Hence, there is a third document that is relevant to understanding Rome’s response to the recent episcopal consecrations.

To understand the decree, we need first to understand two concepts that are important to distinguish: excommunication and schism. Excommunication is the penalty that the Church inflicts, separating an individual in some way from the Church. As St. Thomas admirably explains, when we are baptized, we are united to the Church in two ways, as members of the Church and as participants of the Sacraments. The Church, as a juridical body, is able to remove members from either union. To be removed merely from participation in the sacraments is called minor excommunication, and to be removed from membership in the Church is called major excommunication. Here, we are referring to the latter type of excommunication.

We are united as members of the Church by the profession of faith, ecclesiastical communion, and baptism. If we violate these by grave crimes in the public sphere (public acts of heresy, schism, or apostasy), then we are no longer members of the Church. According to the more common opinion, it does not matter whether one is culpable or inculpable for these acts, as long as they are public. Further, if the ecclesiastical authorities remove one from membership in the Church (excommunication), one is actually removed from membership in the Church, even if it is an unjust excommunication.

Hence, when discussing the SSPX, it is important to distinguish these two questions: Whether there is schism? Whether there is excommunication? Due to the provisions of law touching culpability, not all who are separated from membership in the Church by publicly schismatic acts fall under the penalty of excommunication. This is quite sensible since a mere lack of membership in the Church (which applies to all public schismatics) is a much more lenient penalty compared to a major excommunication, which includes a whole litany of penalties attached to it beside a mere lack of membership in the Church (hence, it only applies to public schismatics not exempt from the penalty). To give an example, the penalties of excommunication only apply to those who have reached their 16th year. Hence, a 15 year old might be a public schismatic, but they are not ipso facto excommunicated in virtue of their publicly schismatic acts, yet they are still separated from membership in the Church.

First, we can divide excommunication into just excommunication and unjust excommunication. An unjust excommunication can either be unjust on the part of the person decreeing (e.g., if he has sinful anger while declaring) or unjust on the part of the decree itself. On the part of the decree itself, it can either be unjust on account of the lawful form not being followed (e.g., a bishop tweets out an excommunication) or unjust on account of its being without a just cause (e.g., the Pope excommunicates me because I drink a cup of water). If it is unjust in the first sense (as lacking legal validity), then it has no effect, and the excommunicated person is still a member of the Church. If it is unjust in the second sense (with legal validity, yet without moral validity), then it does have an effect, and the person is truly severed from membership in the Church.

This bears repeating: excommunications done in the legal form, yet without just cause, are not without effect. This is the common teaching of theologians and is the teaching of St. Thomas:

Second, on the part of the excommunication, through there being no proper cause, or through the sentence being passed without the forms of law being observed. In this case, if the error on the part of the sentence be such as to render the sentence void, this has no effect, for there is no excommunication; but if the error does not annul the sentence, this takes effect, and the person excommunicated should humbly submit (which will be credited to him as a merit), and either seek absolution from the person who has excommunicated him, or appeal to a higher judge. If, however, he were to contemn the sentence, he would ipso facto sin mortally. (ST.IIISup.Q21.A4)

This sober doctrine of St. Thomas does not require much explanation. Those who are unjustly excommunicated sin mortally by contemning their sentence and are truly removed from membership in the Church.

Second, we can divide excommunication based on the manner in which the penalty is incurred. To understand this, we ought to consider how the penalties of the Church differ from the penalties of the state. In civil society, when someone commits a crime, we (usually) cannot simply declare that they are punished. Rather, we need to capture them and inflict punishment upon them, since the punishments of the state only directly concern the body and other temporal goods. Yet, the Church primarily inflicts punishments that touch the soul; hence, the primary way in which punishments are inflicted by the Church is via declaration.

As you can imagine in such a situation, punishments can be incurred in two ways: either a) the Church simply decrees that “x crime gets y punishment,” hence once the condition of “x crime” is met, then “y punishment” is inflicted, or b) the Church can reserve the right to decide whether to prosecute the crime or not. The first category of crime tends to be those crimes that are more grave, while the second category of crime tends to be those crimes that are less grave (hence, the Church reserves discretion for herself in these cases).

This first kind of excommunication is called latae sententiae excommunication, while the second kind of excommunication is called ferendae sententiae excommunication.

There are three groups that are excommunicated in the three documents: bishops, clerics, and laymen.

For the episcopal consecrations themselves, the bishops are in violation of Can. 1387 of the CIC: “Both the Bishop who, without a pontifical mandate, consecrates a person a Bishop, and the one who receives the consecration from him, incur a latae sententiae excommunication reserved to the Apostolic See.” This is what the decree is primarily about: establishing that the consecrator, co-consecrator, and consecrated bishops are excommunicated. Hence, the first three paragraphs concern this issue, while the last paragraph contains a brief note about schism directed towards the clerics of the Society and the lay faithful who attach themselves to their liturgies.

It is important to note that the canon itself does not mention the co-consecrator or assisting presbyters (much less the lay faithful). While the 1917 Code originally provided for the penalties for the co-consecrators and assisting presbyters, such was changed by a decree of April 9, 1951, and the penalties were restricted to the consecrator and the consecrated. Hence, for the co-consecrator, the decree does not declare excommunication from Can. 1387, but from Can. 1364:

I further declare that Bishop Bernard Fellay, having directly participated in the liturgical celebration as co-consecrator, and having thereby publicly adhered to the schismatic act, has incurred the latae sententiae excommunication provided for by can. 1364 §1 of the CIC 2021.

The assisting presbyters are not explicitly mentioned in the decree, except under the general heading of a warning not to adhere to the schism of Lefebvre. Yet, this distinction between the two penalties is quite important. For the direct participation by Bishop Fellay in the liturgical celebration of the consecrations is declared to be public adherence to a schismatic act. Hence, it would also seem to reasonably follow that the same can be said of the assisting presbyters. This is confirmed by the Exegetical Commentary on the Code of Canon Law:

It must be concluded that the co-consecrating bishops and the assisting presbyters normally do not incur the penalty. However, if such a consecration, whatever the particular circumstances, signifies a schism, then everyone, including the bishops and presbyters mentioned, incurs unreserved latae sententiae excommunication (c. 1364 § 1).

While some will cite mitigating factors which they argue will render the excommunications null (namely, the provision of can. 1323, 4°), this was rejected by the aforementioned document from the Pontifical Council for Legislative Texts:

The validity of the excommunications of bishops declared in the Motu Proprio and the Decree cannot reasonably be questioned. In particular, it does not appear that any exempting or mitigating circumstance can be found regarding the imputability of the penalty (Cf. CIC, canons 1323–1324). As for the state of necessity in which Archbishop Lefebvre thought he found himself, it must be kept in mind that such a state must objectively occur, and that there is never a need to ordain bishops against the will of the Roman Pontiff, Head of the College of Bishops. This, in fact, would mean the possibility of “serving” the Church by attacking its unity in a matter connected to the very foundations of this unity.

Related to this, the principle in can. 1323, 4° that “No one is liable to a penalty who, when violating a law or precept…acted under the compulsion of grave fear, even if only relative, or by reason of necessity or grave inconvenience” includes the following exception: “unless, however, the act is intrinsically evil or tends to be harmful to souls.” Now, as the Exegetical Commentary notes, this is meant primarily to be in reference to acts that necessarily involve contempt for the faith or ecclesiastical authority in their outward or objective character. As the Exegetical Commentary notes:

In comparison to CIC/1917, the restrictions ‘contemptum fidei vel ecclesiasticae auctoritatis’ (cf. cc. 2205 § 3, 2229 § 3, 3° CIC/1917) have disappeared. It seems obvious, however, that they should be assumed in the two current cases to the degree that, as Miguélez rightly pointed out apropos of the parallel norm in CIC/1917, a) this is not the contempt that comes from the agent’s intention; it is objective and comes from the very nature of the act or the circumstances; b) it is not simply a lack of reverence, honor, or obedience that is implied in breaking a law, but that the delinquent act must be such that it is coupled in a special way with the necessary and direct contempt for faith or authority.

The final sentence of the decree mentions the effects on the clerics and lay faithful who attach themselves to the SSPX: “Clerics and lay faithful are admonished not to adhere to the schism of the Society of Saint Pius X, for they would incur ipso facto the penalty of latae sententiae excommunication.” Above, we have already seen the distinction between the penalties in can. 1364 and can. 1387. Here, the clerics and faithful are warned that they are in danger of the penalties of can. 1364: “An apostate from the faith, a heretic or a schismatic incurs a latae sententiae excommunication…”

In the decree itself, we see that the co-consecrator was in violation of the canon. In the Exegetical Commentary, we see that the assisting presbyters were in violation of the canon as well. Yet, the explanatory note goes further than the decree, explaining in more detail what was meant in the last paragraph of the decree: “This Dicastery, in the faithful exercise of the functions entrusted to it, holds it necessary to note that this act has configured the offense of schism, with the canonical consequences for the sacred ministers and for the lay faithful involved.” While the decree explicitly mentions the co-consecrator as incurring the penalties of can. 1364, the explanatory note extends this to the ministers and lay faithful involved in the consecrations. This seems necessarily to follow from the principles outlined above as indicating that participation in such a liturgy (despite one’s degree of involvement) necessarily involves public adherence to the schismatic act.

Yet, the explanatory note goes further. First, it declares that sacred ministers of the Society in general (even if they did not participate in the consecrations) are excommunicated: “Sacred ministers belonging to the Society of St. Pius X are in schism and must therefore be considered schismatic, and are subject to the excommunication provided by law.” While some may be surprised by this, there is actually no change here. This has been the case for decades. The aforementioned 1996 Explanatory Note already stated that “In the case of the Lefebvrian deacons and priests, it seems clear that their ministerial activity within the schismatic movement is a more than evident sign that the two requirements mentioned above are met and that there is therefore a formal adherence [to the schism].”

Second, the explanatory note also makes note of the lay faithful who attach themselves to the movement (as distinct from those lay faithful who participated in the liturgy): “As regards the lay faithful, those are to be held schismatic and excommunicated who formally adhere to the Society of St. Pius X under the conditions established in the Explanatory Note of the Pontifical Council for Legislative Texts of 1996, still in force, which this Dicastery makes its own.”

The 1996 Explanatory Note set forth two principles for determining whether the lay faithful formally adhere to the schism of Lefebvre. First, “in freely and consciously sharing the substance of the schism,” which is of an internal character. Primarily, this concerns obedience to the Roman Pontiff. Second, in the “externalization” of this internal character. It is to be noted that schism is both a sin and a crime. When the Code speaks of “schism” or “heresy,” these are not in reference to schism or heresy as sins, but as crimes, which require some sort of externalization. This is described by the Explanatory Note as “the exclusive participation in the Lefebvrian ‘ecclesial’ acts, without taking part in the acts of the Catholic Church.” Yet, it is to be remembered that there is both a positive element to this (i.e., that such participation be ‘exclusive’) and a negative element to this (i.e., that participation in the acts of the Catholic Church be lacking), which are two sides to the same coin. Hence, the Explanatory Note explains that “there is the possibility that some faithful may take part in the liturgical functions of Lefebvre’s followers without sharing their schismatic spirit.” If the negative element is lacking and a member of the faithful participates in both, then they do not fall under the crime of schism. If the positive element is lacking and a member of the faithful attends Lefebvrian liturgies with a willingness to attend the liturgies of the Catholic Church, then they do not fall under the crime of schism.

From the complexities involved in evaluating the individual cases of laymen, the following is stated (which is referenced and accepted by today’s Explanatory Note):

In the case of other faithful, however, it is obvious that occasional participation in liturgical acts or activities of the Lefebvrian movement, without adopting the movement’s attitude of doctrinal and disciplinary disunity, is not sufficient to constitute formal membership in the movement. In pastoral practice, it may be more difficult to assess their situation. It is necessary to take into account, above all, the individual’s intention and the translation of this interior disposition into action. The various situations must therefore be assessed on a case-by-case basis, in the competent bodies of the external and internal forums.

Some helpful examples of those who generally do and do not adhere to the schism are given by the DDF in their guidelines for the reconciliation of laymen. Those who are “members of the Third Order of the Priestly Society of St. Pius X” and those who “habitually participate in the celebrations of the Priestly Society of St. Pius X, formally sharing its doctrinal positions” are presumed to formally adhere to the schism. On the other hand, those who “have frequented the Priestly Society of St. Pius X solely for liturgical or spiritual reasons” or those who “while aware of the tensions with the Holy See, do not reject the Magisterium or the authority of the Roman Pontiff” are not presumed to formally adhere to the schism.

Further, the Explanatory Note makes a judgment regarding their sacraments: that their sacraments are generally illicit (i.e., against the law), while their confessions and marriages are invalid (i.e., do not exist as sacraments): “The holy People of God are advised that the sacred ministers of the Society of St. Pius X illicitly (illicite) administer the sacraments, and that the sacrament of penance administered by them, and the marriages assisted by them, are invalid (invalida).” While the Church can grant faculties for the validity of these sacraments (which Pope Francis did in 2015), such has been revoked.

Lastly, the faithful are generally exhorted to avoid the liturgies celebrated by the Society: “Finally, all the faithful are exhorted…to abstain from participating in the celebrations and activities promoted by the aforementioned Society of St. Pius X.” For this reason, even those who do not formally adhere to the schism are required (according to the DDF guidelines) to “approach a priest in full communion, with the resolve not to frequent the Priestly Society of St. Pius X in the future.”

On the part of an adult recipient (“subject”) of a sacrament, there are certain dispositions required not only for the fruitfulness of the sacrament, but also for the valid reception of the sacrament. This is commonly called the ‘intention of the subject.’ This is distinct from the intention of the minister that is frequently invoked in Catholic theology within the tripartite division of ‘matter, form, and intent.’

The reason why this is left out of the common enumeration of necessary conditions for the validity of sacraments is for the same reason that ‘minister’ is left out of the common enumeration. Just as a unique minister is not necessary for each and every sacrament (e.g., a layman can baptize, but not ordain), so also the subject’s intention is not necessary for each and every sacrament (e.g., infant baptism). Yet, it is quite important for many sacramental questions, such as the invalidity of Anglican Orders, the practice of annulments, etc.

Hence, e.g., someone baptized against their will is not only illicitly baptized, but also invalidly baptized: “He who never consents, but inwardly contradicts, receives neither the matter nor the sign of the sacrament…the sacramental operation impresses the sign, when it does not meet the resisting obstacle of a contrary will.” (Pope Innocent III, D 411)

Yet, what is the extent of the intention required on the part of the adult subject for the validity of the sacraments?

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This much is evident from their own words, which genuinely express these dispositions. Far from dismissing the value of the Society, His Holiness compliments it with these words: “The Church recognizes the devotion to liturgical life, commitment to priestly formation, apostolic zeal, and desire for fidelity to Tradition that characterize many people and communities connected to your Fraternity.”

Far from casting thunderbolts of derision at Rome, Fr. Pagliarani speaks with confidence and love: “Thank you very much for the letter that Your Holiness so kindly addressed to me. I have been deeply touched by Your paternal solicitude…I am confident that Your paternal heart as universal Shepherd will be moved by this very particular situation. One day, all the difficulties between the Holy See and the Society will be resolved.”

This attitude of the fathers is not shared by the children. These matters are quite weighty and bear on profound and fundamental questions of ecclesiology—and this is clearly comprehended by His Holiness and Fr. Pagliarani. They do not speak as men who fail to understand the gravity of the moment; their clear-sightedness also allows them to see the cherished concerns of the other and to genuinely sympathize with these concerns in their conversations.

Yet what has the discourse about the SSPX become among us? Nothing of this sort. When did His Holiness deride the Society as lacking all pastoral value? Far from it—His Holiness quite clearly recognized the many good qualities of the Society. When did Fr. Pagliarani speak disrespectfully of His Holiness or his predecessors? Never. On the contrary, Fr. Pagliarani spoke with great confidence on the basis of the paternal charity evident in Pope Leo XIV.

So where are we to go from here? With these consecrations and the inevitable excommunications, the break will last another generation. Will these sad realities make the words of His Holiness and Fr. Pagliarani any less true, or their examples any less imitable? On the contrary, it will make their behavior all the more relevant.

May we all become worthy children in imitating fathers such as these.

One of the most popular objections to Catholic miracle claims is drawn from supposed miracles performed in non-Catholic contexts. The line of reasoning is easy to see: if you claim that miracles confirm a religion, and miracles are performed by those of other religions, you must either be an indifferentist (conceding that all religions are true) or place other miracles under such a degree of scrutiny that you refute your own claims. From this, the objector will conclude that miracles are of no value for the authentication of the revelation of the messenger.

We can take this and form a conditional syllogism: if multiple religions perform miracles, then they have no demonstrative force; multiple religions perform miracles; therefore, they have no demonstrative force.

Traditionally, it was quite common to attack the minor premise—i.e., that multiple religions perform miracles—only conceding Catholic miracle claims. For example, Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange states:

No miracles are seen in Protestantism, nor any hope for miracles. Luther said: “Miracles must not be required by us, who deny free choice of the will.” And Calvin wrote to the king of France: “Those who demand miracles from us act wickedly.” He said that his doctrine does not stand in need of miracles, for he was preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ, not a new gospel for which faith would need to be solidified through signs. Likewise, no true miracles are found in Photianism, and those that are sometimes brought forward as having been performed on behalf of the separated church and against the union of the Ruthenians with the See of Peter are not facts of such a nature as to require a supernatural cause. Ioannes Martinov, an expert in Russian matters, affirms with certitude that these miracles are not at all supernatural.

Yet, what if certain of these miracles are authentic? Abstracting from the existence in fact of these miracles, would the existence of such miracles contradict the claims of Catholicism and the demonstrative force of miracles? To put it another way: what if, as a matter of argument, we conceded the minor premise that “multiple religions perform miracles”? Would this refute Catholicism? Are we forced to accept the conditional that “if multiple religions perform miracles, then they have no demonstrative force,” as many enemies of the Church assume?

Some Principles

To better comprehend the solution to this problem, we must first understand the nature of a miracle. A miracle is a type of sign—it is some sort of action that points outside of itself to another truth. Hence, theologians will speak of miracles as tied to “proving” something, i.e., demonstrating some truth. Therefore, the medievals (cf. ST II-II, Q178, A2) would ask the question of “whether miracles could be performed by the wicked.” In response (after excluding the cases when such acts are performed by demons), they would put forward a distinction: insofar as such miracles are meant to demonstrate the truth of the message, conceded; insofar as such miracles are meant to demonstrate the holiness of the person, denied.

Hence, in Question 79 of the 83 Questions, St. Augustine gives a three-fold distinction as to the performance of miracles: the miracles of magicians, the miracles of bad Christians, and the miracles of good Christians (cf. ST I, Q110, A4, Rep2). In his line of argumentation, he assumes that genuine miracles performed by the power of Christ occur among both bad Christians (which include “schismatics and heretics”) and good Christians. The fundamental reason why miracles can be performed by both groups is that both groups possess the “signs of public righteousness,” e.g., the “name of Christ,” “Christian words,” and “Sacraments.” The analogy given for this is the honor due to the emperor’s signs when possessed by a usurper. In this case, the signs are not possessed with legal validity, yet they are still shown honor on account of the emperor for whose honor they are wielded.

St. Thomas, following this tradition in ST II-II, Q178, A2, makes a three-fold distinction on the part of the miracle performed, distinguishing between demonic “miracles” (which either exist purely in the intellect or have a natural cause), miracles that confirm holiness, and miracles that confirm the truth preached. Hence, he writes:

Some miracles are not true but imaginary deeds, because they delude man by the appearance of that which is not; while others are true deeds, yet they have not the character of a true miracle, because they are done by the power of some natural cause…

True miracles cannot be wrought save by the power of God, because God works them for man’s benefit, and this in two ways: in one way for the confirmation of truth declared, in another way in proof of a person’s holiness, which God desires to propose as an example of virtue.

In the first way miracles can be wrought by any one who preaches the true faith and calls upon Christ’s name, as even the wicked do sometimes. In this way even the wicked can work miracles…

In the second way miracles are not wrought except by the saints, since it is in proof of their holiness that miracles are wrought during their lifetime or after death, either by themselves or by others. (ST II-II, Q178, A2)

Yet the most important comment for our purpose comes in the responses to objections. In the third objection, St. Thomas poses an objection based on God’s veracity, arguing: “Miracles are divine attestations… Now God cannot bear witness to a falsehood. Therefore it would seem that wicked men cannot work miracles.” (ibid., Obj3) Interestingly, this objection takes almost precisely the same form that many anti-Catholic apologists present this dilemma in; they argue that if the supposition that “miracles cannot bear witness to a falsehood” is true, why, then, do we see miracles done by non-Catholics and in non-Catholic contexts—on the supposition, of course, that such truly occur? St. Thomas replies as follows:

Miracles are always true witnesses to the purpose for which they are wrought. Hence wicked men who teach a false doctrine never work true miracles in confirmation of their teaching, although sometimes they may do so in praise of Christ’s name which they invoke, and by the power of the sacraments which they administer. If they teach a true doctrine, sometimes they work true miracles as confirming their teaching, but not as an attestation of holiness. (ibid., Rep3)

St. Thomas, rather than denying the major premise (as the Protestants do), distinguishes the minor premise and therefore denies the sequence of the argument. St. Thomas lucidly points out that “a falsehood” needs to be taken in a formal rather than a material sense; a sign verifies the truth of the aspect which it presents and points toward, not the total object materially taken. Thus, for example, if I confirm that “Jay Dyer’s opinion on x is true,” I am not saying that “Jay Dyer is true” as if each and every position he has stated is true—rather, I am merely confirming this or that aspect of Jay Dyer (i.e., what he said in this case is true) rather than the entire body of what he said materially taken. In the same way, St. Thomas concedes that a miracle cannot verify a falsehood formally (i.e., in pointing to the truth of the false preaching), but denies that a miracle cannot verify a truth which materially or incidentally has falsehood attached to it (i.e., in pointing to the truth preached by a false prophet).

This can be illustrated by an example. Let us say that Christ and St. Peter performed the same miracle. Why, in this case, is Christ confirmed to be God by this miracle, while St. Peter is not confirmed to be God by this miracle? Clearly, the reason is that Christ performed this miracle as a sign confirming His preaching that He is God, whereas St. Peter performed his miracle as a sign confirming his preaching that he is an apostle and Christ is God.

Since, therefore, Christ said that he is the Son of God and equal to God, the miracles which he did confirmed this doctrine of his. And for this reason, Christ was shown through his miracles to be God. Yet Peter, although he did the same or greater miracles, was not proven to be God. Rather, through them it was also proven that Christ was God, because Peter did not preach himself, but Jesus Christ, to be God. (QII, Q4, A1, RepSC4)

Here we see that other factors are incidental to a miracle’s demonstrative value. A miracle is a sign pointing to the veracity of a claim. Now, a sign points to that which it signifies, having no necessary relation to that which is outside its significatory value. Therefore, a miracle only has a necessary relation to the truth which it is meant to verify, not to that which may be materially or incidentally attached to it. Hence, it did not matter whether Peter performed the same miracles as Christ or even greater miracles, or whether Peter was in the midst of denying Christ or dying for Christ; all that mattered was the consideration of what the miracle was essentially related to in its significatory value.

To give an example from the history of the Church, we can look to St. Vincent Ferrer. In the midst of his preaching, St. Vincent performed many miracles. In fact, he was so prodigious in the performance of miracles that it was estimated he performed five miracles a day throughout his entire ministry preaching across Europe. Yet this stands in tension with a well-known fact of his life: his opposition to the validly elected Pope and his support for multiple antipopes. Now, what if we were to reason thus: if someone performs a miracle, it supports the truths that they present; now, St. Vincent performed many miracles; further, St. Vincent presented the truth of the papacy of Antipope Benedict XIII; therefore, miracles supported the truth of the papacy of Antipope Benedict XIII.

In light of what we have seen, how ought we to respond to this objection? We ought to distinguish between what a miracle is meant to signify and what a miracle is not meant to signify. A miracle is meant to signify the truth for the sake of which it is performed, not every judgment ever uttered by a man, the system that he subjectively holds, the grounds upon which he holds the truth, or any other incidentally related factor. Hence, the miracles of St. Vincent were meant to signify the truth of the Gospel he preached, not every opinion of St. Vincent.

The Solution of the Problem

With this, we can apply these principles to the question at hand. As a matter of argument, concede the veracity of non-Catholic miracles. With this subsumed, can the following be maintained: (a) the demonstrative value of Catholic miracles, and (b) the falsehood of non-Catholic religions?

First, it is denied that there is any necessary connection between hypothetically conceding the veracity of some non-Catholic miracles and a lack of demonstrative value in Catholic miracles. In any system of belief, there are some truths that are unique and constitutive (e.g., the infallibility of the Pope), while there are other truths that are common (e.g., the existence of God). Now, in order to demonstrate the truth of a certain system, it is not sufficient to demonstrate those truths that are common (since such could hypothetically exist under a number of different views), but only those unique and constitutive truths (which could only exist with the truth of the entire system, as “political animal” could only exist with human nature).

Hence, we place the demonstrative value of miracles under a distinction, yet we in no way deny its demonstrative value.

Second, it is denied that there is any necessary connection between hypothetically conceding the veracity of a certain miracle and the truth of non-Catholic religions. For we can distinguish between the system of beliefs held as a whole and the individual beliefs held within it. As to the first, it would obviously be problematic for a Catholic to concede genuine miracles performed on behalf of a system of belief presented as a whole (e.g., a miracle performed to verify the claims of Islam) or a miracle specifically meant to verify the status of certain individuals as divinely appointed legates (e.g., a miracle performed to verify Muhammad’s status as a prophet). As to the second, however, we must place this under a distinction as well: on the one hand, certain truths of a system are constitutive of that system, such that to affirm the judgment is to affirm the entire system; yet, on the other hand, other truths are commonly held. Now, while the former would imply the truth of the entire religion (e.g., “Joseph Smith is a true prophet” implies “Mormonism is true”), the same cannot be said of the latter (e.g., a Baptist, challenged by atheists to perform a miracle to witness to the existence of God, performs such a miracle). There is no necessary connection between the affirmation of a certain truth and the complete veracity of one’s thought or preaching.

Objection. Does this not concede the entire argument to anti-Catholics who deny the demonstrative value of miracles?

Response. We only claim the demonstrative value of miracles under the distinction presented. We agree with the anti-Catholics that “a Catholic performed a miracle; therefore it necessarily follows that Catholicism is true” is not demonstrative, since the truth of Catholicism may only be connected materially or incidentally with the miracle performed. Likewise, just as many falsehoods are materially or incidentally connected with true miracles (e.g., the denial of Christ by St. Peter alongside St. Peter’s miracles), so also may the system subjectively held by one performing miracles be connected with the miracle in a merely material or incidental way.

Hence, miracles are only demonstrative in one of two ways: (α) if the truth for which the miracle is performed is a truth unique to or constitutive of the system; (β) if the truth of the system is so connected with the truth verified, the mode of verifying, the person who verifies, or the conditions under which verification exists, as to imply the truth of the system itself.

Objection. Doesn’t this contradict St. Thomas’ doctrine who teaches that “wicked men who teach a false doctrine never work true miracles in confirmation of their teaching?”

Response. We can reply to this objection in one of three ways. First, one may concede that St. Thomas simply erred on a matter of fact (i.e., that a true miracle has never been performed by a false teacher). Second, one may conceded that such is the case actually and in reality by the providence of God (i.e., that a false teacher never actually performs a miracle in witness to the truth), but deny that such could not happen hypothetically and by the absolute power of God.

Yet, neither of these two interpretations are satisfying. For, if we continue reading, we see that St. Thomas writes that “although sometimes they may do so in praise of Christ’s name which they invoke, and by the power of the sacraments which they administer.” Now, the praise of Christ’s name and affirmation of the power of the sacraments includes a certain profession of and verification of truth. The same can be drawn from the teaching of St. Augustine who includes heretics and schismatics under the “bad Christians” who can perform miracles. For the solution of this, note that it is quite common for Medievals to speak commonly when they wish to indicate that something is the case reduplicatively. Hence, to say “wicked men who teach a false doctrine never work true miracles in confirmation of their teaching” is not to be taken as indicating that they can never work miracles in confirmation of true doctrine (as in the cases that Ss. Thomas and Augustine conceded), but that they can never work miracles in confirmation of ‘their teaching,’ i.e., their teaching considered reduplicatively insofar as it is properly theirs, which is the same as ‘false doctrine.’

To understand the simplicity of God, we must first understand the meaning of the term. Often, many will erroneously believe that “simple” has its opposite in “distinct.” Hence, when we state that “God is simple,” what we are saying is that “God has no real distinctions.” What compounds this difficulty is that “real distinction” is taken to mean a distinction that is not a mere distinction of name (i.e., a “non-fake” distinction).

Obviously, there would be a number of difficulties if we were to define “simplicity” in this way. It is a dogma of the Catholic faith that the persons of the Trinity are really distinct one from another. Further, the attributes of God would be turned into purely mental abstractions with no foundation in reality.

Hence, the Church has condemned the theses that “no distinction can exist or be understood in God Himself” (D523) and that “every distinction is foreign to God, either in nature or in person” (D524).

First and foremost, it must be understood that “simple” is a negative name of God. When we say “God is really simple,” we are denying something. What is that something? We are denying real composition. It is important to note this again: when we say “God is simple,” we are NOT saying “God has no distinctions,” but “God has no real composition.” So, what is real composition? Real composition is the real union of really distinct things. If you take two lego blocks and unite them together, you have made a bigger block that is a composite of the two smaller blocks. You have taken two really distinct things and united them together, which results in composition. Hence there are TWO aspects to composition: real distinction and real union. Before the lego blocks are placed together, they are really distinct, but they are not composed due to the lack of real union.

Here, we are able to put a somewhat more positive spin on things. When we say that “God is simple,” we are saying that God possesses the fullness of perfection. God contains all the perfections possessed by lower things in a united manner. St. Thomas gives the analogy of the king. The king in his royal power contains all the powers of his lower ministers united in himself. The king does not have separate legislative, executive, and judicial powers, but has the royal power which simply contains all the perfections of the lesser powers in a united way. We can also look at the soul. The soul of man simply and unitedly contains all the lesser powers and their functions in a united way. Man does not possess a vegetative soul, an animal soul, and a rational soul; rather, our rational soul performs all the functions of the lesser souls in a united manner. We can also look at the metaphysical grades. Human nature possesses all the perfections of the higher metaphysical grades in a united manner, possessing the perfections of rationality, animality, life, etc., in a united manner in our humanity.

It is here as well that we see the most manifest reason for why we must attribute this to God. What is the purpose of composition among creatures? When we look at the complexities of machines, the various different parts are united together to perfect each other and to perfect the whole. Yet, as advancements are made, the composition lessens. We are able to create a more perfect machine insofar as the whole needs less outside of itself in order to become perfect in its own grade.

Now, if we apply this same line of reasoning to God, the question “is God simple?” has an obvious answer. When we ask “is God composed of justice?” we are asking “does God need to be perfected by justice?” That is the function of composition: to give something to the whole that it does not already have. The king does not need legislative power because he already possesses it in a perfect manner in his royal power. The rational soul does not need a vegetative soul because it already possesses its functions in the rational soul. So, if we ask “is God really composed of essence and justice?” we are really asking the question “does God’s essence need justice to perfect it?”

From this, the rest of the line of reasoning is obvious. God is the height of perfection. He does not need to be perfected. Hence, it clearly follows that God cannot have composition. His essence already has the perfection of justice in a united manner; it does not need something really distinct from it to perfect it in this way.

With this consideration in particular, we are able to state God’s simplicity in a positive manner and understand it more lucidly in relation to our affirmation that God has true attributes. When we say that “God is just” and “God is merciful,” are we positing purely mental abstractions? No more than when we say “the king has legislative power.” When we say the latter, what do we mean? We mean that the royal power possesses the perfection of legislation. He possesses in a unified manner what lesser ranks possess in a divided manner. Hence, when we say “God is just” and “God is merciful,” we do not imply that the Divine essence has justice and mercy added to it as really distinct perfections; rather, what we mean to imply is that the Divine essence in itself possesses all the perfections of justice and mercy without needing them to be added to it. What creatures possess in a divided way under a multitude of different forms and in a limited manner, God possesses in a simple and unified manner under the sole and simple form of the Deity.

So, how does this work with the Trinity?

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There is a principle of theology that “the principle of merit does not fall under merit.” While the principle may seem quite abstract, it is an axiom that is quite fruitful in understanding the spiritual life and the importance of prayer. It is by this principle that we understand the sublime place of prayer in the spiritual life and its special importance for those in a state of mortal sin (especially those seeking the truth of the Catholic faith).

To understand this more clearly, it is important to properly understand the sense of ‘merit.’ In the broadest possible sense, ‘merit’ refers to the relation between a certain act and its effect in the moral order. Hence, we can both merit praise and blame. The man who writes an erudite work merits praise due to the good qualities of the work. The man who commits a crime merits punishment due to the evil qualities of his action.

When we consider the concept of merit theologically, the issue becomes more difficult. For the end of beatitude seems to exceed the good qualities of nature, and God the rewarder seems to exceed all just claims of creatures. In order to resolve these difficulties, theologians provide a few helpful distinctions in order to properly understand merit. First, we distinguish between merit that is condign and merit that is congruous. Condign merit is merit whose reward is owed in justice; congruous merit is merit whose reward is fittingly offered. To give an analogy, if I contract a worker to help me move, I owe him his pay in justice (condignly); yet, if I ask a friend to help me move, I owe him a meal and help in the future as a fitting reward (congruously).

Each of these concepts ought to be distinguished further for a better resolution to the problem. For it seems quite unfitting that God would owe anything to creatures in justice, due to the equality implied by natural justice between the rewarder and the one rewarded. Theologians resolve this problem by distinguishing between condign merit in the strict sense (which is an act of commutative justice whose merit is called ‘arithmetic’) and condign merit in the broad sense (which is an act of distributive justice whose merit is called ‘geometric’). To speak simply, God’s rewards are acts of justice insofar as he has bound himself to pay such a reward in justice and ordained such acts to a certain reward (for more, here).

Now, when we say that “the principle of merit does not fall under merit,” we speak of this sort of merit: condign merit. The principle of merit refers to those infallibly efficacious graces that are purely gratuitous. Hence, we cannot condignly merit the infallibly efficacious graces in general, the grace of final perseverance, the grace of conversion, the rise after a fall into mortal sin, etc. Hence, the Council of Trent teaches that “none of those things which precede justification, whether faith or works, merit the grace itself of justification.”

It is here that we must return to our consideration of the other type of merit, congruous merit. Here, we must place a distinction as well that will set the stage for understanding the role of prayer in the spiritual life. Congruous merit is fittingly rewarded with a certain reward. This is the essential notion of congruous merit. It is paid by liberality and mercy rather than by justice. From this, we recognize that there is a world of difference between what is merited condignly and what is merited congruously. The foundation for the reward distinguishes the species of merit. From this, many have become confused in their determination of the question, which has led to severe consequences for the spiritual life and evangelization.

May this be written as a golden principle and recalled by all men: congruous and condign merit are not distinguished by certainty. It follows from God’s justice that he will reward condign merit. Hence, we are infallibly certain that the increase of sanctifying grace and beatitude are rewarded as merits of such acts. Yet, it is fallacious to reason backwards from this that, since there is an infallible connection between condign merit and reward, the only species of merit that is infallibly rewarded is condign merit. Remember: congruous and condign merit are not distinguished by certainty. Hence, it is possible (and actual, as revealed by Scripture) that there can be both an infallible condign merit (which flows from its species) and an infallible congruous merit (which flows from something extrinsic to it and per accidens). It is unfortunate that many understand condign merit inadequately and narrowly by human examples, so as to conclude that condign and congruous merit are distinguished merely by the certainty of payment, rather than by the qualities of the relation of act to reward.

From this, the conclusion follows that there are two species of congruous merit: fallible congruous merits and infallible congruous merits. Or, at least, there are potentially two such species of congruous merit, giving an adequate accidental distinction depending on whether there is something extrinsic added to such merit, i.e., the promise of God. Hence, if the promise of God is added to such an act fitting for a reward, then it is an infallible congruous merit; otherwise it is fallible. Hence, if such has actually been promised in Divine Revelation (which is still necessary to seek in our investigation), then the existence of such is verified. Note that while condign merits and infallible congruous merits both share the same certainty, they do not have this certainty for precisely the same reason. Condign merits have their infallibility on the basis of the ordination and justice of God; infallible congruous merits have their infallibility on the basis of the promise and mercy of God. Note that such concerns the formal and adequate reason and basis in God, not as if condign merits perfectly prescind from and exclude the mercy of God, or infallible congruous merits the justice of God, since mercy and justice are in all his works.

Thus, it is important to conclude that we must firmly stand against the common error that condign and congruous merits are distinguished on the basis of the certainty and infallibility of their rewards. While it is quite true to say that congruous merits do not have from their very nature an infallible connection with reward, it is false to conclude from this that they do not have an infallible connection with reward, since such an infallible connection can come from something outside the very nature of the act, i.e., One whose promises are infallibly verified in their effects.

Up to this point, I have treated the topic quite speculatively, affirming the simple possibility of such infallible congruous merits and their conceptual distinction from condign merits, yet I have not concretely affirmed whether such merits exist in reality as actually promised by God. In Divine Revelation, is there such a promised act? Yes.

Throughout Sacred Scripture, we see that there is one act above all others firmly considered as an act congruously meriting its reward infallibly: prayer. There are countless passages that teach this principle, but here are a few: “Ask, and it shall be given you: seek, and you shall find: knock, and it shall be opened to you. For every one that asketh, receiveth: and he that seeketh, findeth: and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened.” (Mt. 7:7–8) “And all things whatsoever you shall ask in prayer believing, you shall receive.” (Mt. 21:22) “And whatsoever you shall ask the Father in my name, that will I do: that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If you shall ask me any thing in my name, that I will do.” (Jn. 14:13–14) “If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, you shall ask whatever you will, and it shall be done unto you.” (Jn. 15:7) “Amen, amen I say to you: if you ask the Father any thing in my name, he will give it you. Hitherto you have not asked any thing in my name. Ask, and you shall receive; that your joy may be full.” (Jn. 16:23–24) “And this is the confidence which we have towards him: That, whatsoever we shall ask according to his will, he heareth us. And we know that he heareth us whatsoever we ask: we know that we have the petitions which we request of him.” (1 Jn. 5:14–15)

How slow are we to believe these words! The golden words of the Son of God Himself are abundantly clear: prayer is infallibly efficacious. Why, then, do we often ask and not receive? Here, theologians invoke certain conditions. Throughout the text of Sacred Scripture, we see conditions placed on this infallible effect, e.g., whoever asks in my name. The conditions are boiled down into four: we must ask (1) those things necessary for salvation, (2) for ourselves, (3) piously, and (4) perseveringly. Each of these conditions merits its own treatment, yet to treat each would remove us from the purpose of this article.

There are two excellent corollaries to this doctrine that can be drawn out and that have not been clearly considered by many.

Corollary 1. Comparatively, prayer exceeds other good works in its meritorious effect.

Prayer is an act of a certain virtue. Hence, when done under the influence of charity by those in a state of grace, it merits eternal life and an increase in sanctifying grace. As to those other things that we cannot condignly merit (infallibly efficacious graces, rising after mortal sin, the grace of final perseverance, etc.), like other good works, insofar as it is an act proceeding from a certain virtue under the influence of charity, it does not infallibly and certainly acquire such ends.

To give an example, when we make an act of chastity under the influence of charity, we cannot condignly merit that we rise after a fall into unchastity. Whether or not it has this effect is uncertain. Yet, it is obviously quite fitting that God grant such a reward to the one who makes acts of chastity frequently. Hence, it can congruously merit such a reward in a fallible manner. The same applies to prayer insofar as it is an act of virtue. Hence, considering prayer as an act of virtue under the influence of charity, we would have to conclude likewise that prayer to rise after a future fall into unchastity would only congruously merit such a reward in a fallible manner. The conclusion is solid, yet there is not a complete disjunction of the grounds of merit.

Beside considering prayer as it is an act of a certain virtue (i.e., in its meritorious effect), we can consider prayer as it is a special act petitioning the mercy of God (i.e., in its impetratory effect). Hence, while prayer may only fallibly acquire such effects that do not fall under the principle of merit as an act of virtue, the same cannot be concluded for the effects of prayer as an act of impetration. For this reason, we can hold, for example, that infallibly efficacious graces are not condignly merited by any act of virtue (whether prayer or otherwise), but also hold that such graces are infallibly merited congruously insofar as prayer is an act impetrating the mercy of God.

Hence, there are many gifts of God that will not certainly be given to us unless we pray for them. Final perseverance never certainly comes from a multitude of acts of charity. Yet, we can be confident that praying to God for such gifts will infallibly bring about this great and most noble gift, if we pray for ourselves piously and perseveringly. Pray every day for the gift of final perseverance! God has promised in his mercy to infallibly grant such a gift to all who ask with the proper dispositions.

This corollary is explicitly taught by the great master of the spiritual life, Fr. Antonio Royo Marín:

No one, however just and perfect, can merit for himself the actual efficacious graces by a strict or condign merit, but we can all merit them by congruous merit: infallibly by prayers which have the proper qualifications, and fallibly by good works. The reason for the first statement is the famous axiom cited (the principle of merit does not fall under merit), for the actual graces conservative of grace pertaining to the same grace as a principle of merit. The reason for the second statement is the divine promise to grant us infallibly whatever is necessary for our salvation if we ask for it in prayer that is humble, confident, and persevering. Our simple good works do not have this special promise, given in view of prayer, and for that reason their merit is only congruous and fallible. If God grants it, it will be out of pure mercy, since the works do not merit it of themselves, nor has he promised to give it to us in view of good works. (The Theology of Christian Perfection, pt. 1, ch. 6)

This distinction between prayer as meritorious and prayer as impetratory leads us to a second, more striking conclusion.

Corollary 2. The infallible efficacy of prayer is not dependent on the state of grace.

Here, we reach a second fruitful corollary. If there are two distinct aspects under which prayer is efficacious, i.e., as an act of virtue and as an act of impetration, then such acts are potentially separable. Suppose that God had not promised infallible efficacy to prayer — would it still merit its reward as an act of virtue? Yes. The one proceeds as an act under the influence of charity in relation to the justice of God; the other proceeds as an act impetrating the mercy of God. We know that such is not the case because God has actually promised such effects. Now, suppose the other situation. What if the individual praying did so as an act of natural virtue without an act of the theological virtue of charity influencing such an act? We know that prayer is an act of a natural virtue (i.e., religion, which is a part of justice). Hence, men can pray without charity (although influenced by actual graces). Therefore, with inescapable logic, we must conclude that even those praying outside of a state of grace, while not condignly meriting (since such requires sanctifying grace), can impetrate the mercy of God. The promises of God apply with equal force to the just and the unjust.

This applies with special distinction to two groups of people: those Catholics in mortal sin and non-Catholics seeking the true religion.

For the first, they still have faith and hope (unless they have directly sinned against those virtues); hence they ought to exercise these unformed virtues by prayer. They ought to pray to God to grant them the grace of conversion. They are in mortal sin. They cannot merit such a grace. Yet, we are not considering prayer insofar as it merits, but insofar as it impetrates. Hence, what is best for those Catholics? To fervently pray for the grace of conversion, since the merciful God has promised that those prayers done well will infallibly impetrate their effects. Here, we do not concern ourselves with the justice of God, but the mercy of God.

For the second, non-Catholics seeking the true religion know God by nature from creation. They understand the obligations of religion to worship God as he has commanded. Yet, they seek where God has commanded all men to enter. What ought they to do? Pray. Prayer is the best remedy for those seeking the true religion. The darkness of sin blinds the mind of the hearer to the eminent clarity of the demonstrations for the credibility of the Catholic religion. Has God promised to remove this darkness by the hearing of arguments? No. Has he promised such to those who study such ancillary disciplines to sharpen their understanding? No. God has promised infallibly the grace of conversion to one thing and one thing only: prayer.

God has bound himself by his promise to infallibly grant the grace of conversion to all and to any who pray with the proper conditions. It is for this reason that many who seek conversion by the high road of study are blinded to the truth in their pride, yet the little children who seek conversion by the road of humility are granted the illumination necessary. The latter pray piously and perseveringly for this gift, while the former hardly pray at all. God rewards them for their impudence with blindness and, eventually, damnation.

The apologist or evangelist does less than nothing if they do not encourage their hearers to prayer. The damage is striking and conversions are rare. Yet, those who encourage prayer and preach the promises of prayer to their hearers will bear much fruit. For we appeal to the very mercy of God and rest on his promises. Like the last corollary, this one is confirmed by the eminent Fr. Antonio Royo Marín (although it is treated in sublime detail by the eminent Fr. Francisco Marín-Sola):

It is the impetratory value of prayer which interests us most as an element of increase and development of the Christian life independent of merit. Let us first see the principal differences between the meritorious and impetratory aspects of prayer. As a meritorious act, prayer implies a relation of justice in regard to a reward; its impetratory value implies a relation simply to the mercy of God. As meritorious, it has an intrinsic efficacy for obtaining a reward; as impetratory, its efficacy rests solely on the promise of God. The meritorious efficacy is based above all on charity; the impetratory value is based primarily on faith. The object of merit and of impetration is not always the same, although sometimes these two aspects may coincide…

One must pray piously, and by this word St. Thomas refers to all the conditions which are required on the part of the individual who prays — humility, confidence, attention, and petition in the name of Christ. Some authors include all these subjective conditions under the heading of the state of grace, without which, they say, no one can pray piously. But they are mistaken. St. Thomas raises this very objection, and this is his solution: “The sinner cannot pray piously in the sense that his prayer is informed by the supernatural habit of the virtue of piety, which he lacks, but he can pray piously in the sense that he can ask for something that pertains to piety, just as he who does not have the habit of justice may nevertheless desire something that is just. And although the prayer of the sinner is not meritorious, it can nevertheless have an impetratory value, because merit is based on justice, while impetration is based on pure gratuity or liberality.” Consequently, although the state of grace is undoubtedly most fitting for the infallible efficacy of prayer, it is not absolutely necessary. It is one thing to demand a wage that is due in justice, but it is something quite distinct to beg for alms. In the second case, no other titles are necessary but one’s need. What is always necessary, however, is the previous impulse of an actual grace, which can be given and actually is given to sinners.

Often, apologists will simply take the listener through a number of different examples of miracles and leave it at that. Yet, the perceptive Protestant will have a number of different questions that are fair. The chief among these concerns diabolical deception.

Directly, it is possible to demonstrate that these miracles are not diabolical in two ways: either a) due to the fact that the miracle is above angelic powers (e.g., raising the dead), or b) that the end or circumstances of the miracle are inconsistent with demonic activity (e.g., the miracle encourages pious acts of the worship of God).

These methods are invoked in Sacred Scripture. First, the man born blind refutes the arguments of the Jews by appealing both to the moral circumstances of the act and the sublimity of the power required for the act: “We know that God does not listen to sinners, but if any one is a worshiper of God and does his will, God listens to him. Never since the world began has it been heard that any one opened the eyes of a man born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” (Jn. 9:31–33) Second, Our Lord objects to the Pharisees from the circumstances of his miraculous casting out of demons: “Every kingdom divided against itself is laid waste, and no city or house divided against itself will stand; and if Satan casts out Satan, he is divided against himself; how then will his kingdom stand?” (Matt. 12:25–26)

Yet, there are legitimate difficulties with either of these methods for those who are hyper-skeptical. While Our Lord and the Apostles, speaking to ordinary men, appealed to what is common sense, not descending into the particularities of disputation, these men, on the other hand, are not satisfied by the obvious and the sensible. Like Thomas, they are not content with the manifest witness of trustworthy messengers, but require to “touch the wounds.”

First, they object to the first method by an appeal to the difficulty with which we grasp the limits of angelic power. Beside obvious examples such as knowledge of the secrets of the heart and knowledge of contingent futures, these individuals are hard pressed to concede that such an act is only unique to Divine power. This is exacerbated by the fact that it is not necessary for God to do miracles that are unique to Divine power, but He often performs miracles that can be done by lesser powers (e.g., healing an illness). Hence, the Protestant argues either that it is a hidden natural cause or that we at least cannot have sufficient certainty that it is not such.

Second, they object to the second method by stating that it assumes the conclusion. Protestants argue that Roman Catholicism teaches many heresies and encourages idolatry. Hence, it is no wonder that Satan would “come as an angel of light” by mixing together many true things and noble acts with false things and evil acts. Thus, according to their manner of argumentation, Satan may encourage pious acts such as repentance or prayer in order to draw men into evils.

In response to these appeals, there is another aspect to the demonstration from miracles that is often missed: Divine Providence. Roman Catholic apologetes argue that it may be reasonable to explain away individual anomalies as demonic deceptions (as we frequently concede about non-Catholic religions), yet the same does not apply to a multitude of miracles that provides manifest credibility. For, in such a case, there would be a clear violation of the prudence and justice of God in His providence over mankind, who would be permitting nearly the entirety of mankind to be invincibly led into error. For, it is common sense, as mentioned above, that leads to the realization of the impossibility that such an act in such circumstances could be uniquely a demonic act. Yet, such is the sufficient guide for the majority of men in their frequent dealings. Hence, they would be invincibly led into error about the true religion. This functions as a reflex principle.

This fundamental principle acts as an underlying axiom in the preaching presented in Sacred Scripture. Otherwise, the constant method employed by Our Lord and the Apostles would lack all apologetic force. Why appeal to the manifest credibility of the message confirmed by countless prophecies and miracles if such manifest credibility could be, in principle, a demonic deception? This leaves two uncomfortable consequences for the Protestant. First, God could permit a universal demonic deception that invincibly leads men into error without manifest circumstances that are morally sufficient to discern that such miracles are false. Second, the method of argumentation used by Our Lord and the Apostles was fundamentally fallacious.

How could St. Peter describe Jesus to the Jews as “a man attested to you by God with mighty works and wonders and signs which God did through him in your midst, as you yourselves know”? (Acts 2:22) Wouldn’t this be a manifestly false statement under the Protestant supposition? If a multitude of miracles providing manifest credibility — without clear attendant circumstances indicating that it is demonic — could be devoid of Divine sanction, how was St. Peter correct in saying that Jesus Christ was “attested to you by God?” Further, how could St. Peter so confidently say that such an attestation was “known” by the multitude unless they were able to discern manifest credibility by the same ordinary powers of common sense employed throughout the Gospels?

Commonly, Protestants do not attend closely enough to the words of our theologians when attempting to refute us. Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange admits that testimonies of miracles only provide us with general historical certitude, yet if we consider the multitude of miracles in light of Divine Providence, he is not afraid to say that we garner extrinsic metaphysical certitude: “God would have permitted the whole of the Christian religion, which is fruitful in all good things, to be founded on an invincible error, which is contrary to the rational notion of providence.” (De Revelatione) The same is witnessed to by Scheeben, who solemnly draws out the horrifying consequences of admitting what the Protestants must admit:

The same thing is true with regard to the ecclesiastical hierarchy’s claim to the power and the privileges of the apostolate itself, as is true with regard to the claim of Christ Himself to divine dignity and worship. If the specifically divine power over spirits, along with the exclusive, infallible possession of divine truth which the Catholic hierarchy claims and so decisively and consistently asserts, is not really entrusted to it by God, then this claim is the worst blasphemy imaginable…If that were so, however, then it would not be possible for the Catholic Church to accomplish so much good, to contribute so much to the sanctification of mankind, and to be persecuted so much by all the enemies of Christ and of God as is in fact the case; moreover, far from cooperating miraculously with this institution, in order to preserve His honor and to prevent the greatest deception ever worked in His name, God Himself would have to work against it in every way, and if He allowed the deception to some extent, He would nevertheless not allow it to triumph so long, so generally, and with so much brilliance and with so much success among the best and most pious men. (Handbook 1.1)

Objection. Throughout Sacred Scripture, we see that God permits deceptive miracles to be performed for some special purpose, e.g., for judgement against sin. Therefore, God may permit a multitude of miracles that invincibly lead to error.

Response. This may be responded to in two ways. First, it is conceded that God permits deceptive miracles for the judgement of men, yet it is untrue that such deceptive miracles provide such credibility as to invincibly lead into error the majority of mankind; and this for two reasons drawn from Sacred Scripture. First, God provides the very rules and principles for judging the circumstances of a miracle so as to avoid lying deceptions (Deut. 18:15–22). Now, such would be superfluously given if the majority of men would be led invincibly into error by such lying deceptions. Therefore, etc. Second, God promises that proximately sufficient helps are given in order to overcome any sort of temptation toward evil: “God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your strength, but with the temptation will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.” (1 Cor. 10:13) Now, if manifestly credible signs were given that invincibly lead men into error, then proximately sufficient helps are not given to overcome such error. Therefore, etc.

Second, the examples given in Scripture are not universal, but are given as particular judgements for particular times and for particular men. Yet, the manifest credibility of the Catholic religion is not established merely for particular times and for particular men, but for all times and for all men. Hence, the two cases are not analogous.

You may object that this seems to be contradictory. In this circumstance, the exact problem is that an absolutely certain conscience cannot be formed. For this reason, moralists have developed various principles for resolving the doubtful conscience.

There are two extreme systems that employ principles that the Church has condemned. First, “rigorism” or “tutiorism” teaches that, in order to act safely, we need to be completely certain that the law does not exist, i.e., it leaves no room for the opinionative judgement, preserving fear of the opposite. Second, “laxism” teaches that, in order to act safely, a certain small or doubtful probability about the non-existence of a law is sufficient. For example, the simple fact that a theologian has posited a view is sufficient to act safely.

Between these two extreme systems, there are four systems permitted by the Church.

α) First, probabiliorism denies (against rigorism) that there needs to be a complete certainty about the non-existence of the law in order to act safely; rather, it simply denies that it is permitted to act according to a less probable (or equally probable) opinion when the action is less safe. In this view, we are only able to act according to the less safe side when it is more probable. The foundation for probabiliorism concerns both a direct principle, i.e., that the more probable is morally certain, and an indirect principle, i.e., if a man errs in following the more probable, his ignorance is invincible. NOTE: The probabiliorists argue that the man is morally certain if the act appears to him to be more probable. Hence, it often occurs that what is the less common opinion is more probable as appearing more true on the basis of intrinsic grounds to a man.

β) Second, probabilism invokes the reflex principle that the man who acts probably acts prudently. Further, they invoke the principle that a law must be sufficiently promulgated in order to bind; hence, they reason that, if a law does not certainly bind the conscience, then it does not bind the conscience at all. From this, they conclude that, if a position is solidly probable (even if less probable and less safe), then a man may act freely in such a matter.

γ) Third, equiprobabilism attempts to combine the best of both probabiliorism and probabilism: a) against probabilism, it holds that the less probable and less safe cannot be chosen; b) against probabiliorism, it holds that the equally probable and less safe can be chosen.

δ) The fourth position is compensationism, which is a bit more complicated. This position holds that the amount of probability sufficient is dependent on the gravity of the situation, more needed for more grave situations.

To give a visual of the positions:

What is a Thomist to make of all of this? Personally, since I first read about the debate, I found myself agreeing with the probabilist position. Yet, historically, the many prominent members of the Thomistic school have been probabiliorists (e.g., Gonet, Billuart, Contenson). In this article, I want to set forth some of their arguments for the position.

First Argument. None of the fathers or ancient scholastic theologians held that it is lawful to follow the less safe opinion when it is less probable. Now, if probabilism were true, then the greater part of the Church was imposing an intolerable burden on the consciences of the faithful in their pastoral practice. Therefore, etc.

In response to this, probabilists will usually deny the major premise, arguing that their position is actually the more ancient. In this effort, they will heap up citations from ancients who simply concede that it is lawful to follow a probable opinion. Yet, Cardinal di Lauria (III Sent., tom. ii, disp. xi, art. iv) and many others argue that the word ‘probable’ is misunderstood here, actually referring to the more probable opinion. This error as to the nature of the probable opinion foreshadows the fundamental error of the probabilist position, according to probabiliorists.

Second Argument. The foundational argument of the probabiliorists against the probabilists runs as follows: to act prudently, it is required that one have moral certainty about the lawfulness of the act, excluding all moral fear; now, the one who favors a less probable and less safe opinion against what seems more probable and more safe to him does not have moral certainty about the lawfulness of the act; therefore, etc.

The reason for the major premise concerns the nature of prudence as an intellectual virtue. Since prudence is an intellectual virtue, it requires firm adherence to the truth. Now, such is excluded by a doubtful adherence. Therefore, since both cannot coexist, neither can a morally certain act and a doubtful adherence coexist. This is conceded by all.

Yet, the more pressing matter is the minor premise, which forms the foundation of the dispute. The proof is as follows: if one judges that his action is more probably unlawful, then he does not judge that it is morally certain that his action is lawful; now, one who follows a less safe and less probable opinion judges that it is more probably unlawful; therefore, he does not have moral certainty that his action is lawful.

In response to this argument, they deny the minor premise (”one who favors a less probable and less safe opinion against what seems more probable and more safe to him does not have moral certainty about the lawfulness of the act”). Against the proof of the minor premise, they invoke a distinction between direct and indirect principles. While the probabilists concede that they do not have moral certainty by direct principles (i.e., in considering the intrinsic and extrinsic arguments for the premise), they deny that they do not have moral certainty in virtue of indirect and reflex principles (e.g., “he who acts probably, acts prudently”).

To prove this reflex principle, they argue as follows: whoever follows a prudent dictate of right reason acts prudently; now, whoever follows a probable opinion follows a prudent dictate of right reason; therefore whoever follows a probable opinion acts prudently.

First, in response to this, it is argued by probabiliorists that a morally certain judgement can only be derived from morally certain principles. Now, such a reflex principle is not morally certain (as evidenced from the great dispute over the principle). Therefore, the judgements derived from the principle are not morally certain.

The reason for this is that, as St. Thomas teaches, the premises are as the efficient cause of the conclusion. Now, the effect cannot exceed the perfection of the cause. Hence, the effect of moral certainty cannot be derived from the cause of mere probability.

Second, probabiliorists argue that it is absurd to both hold that an act is certainly morally licit and that it is more probably against the Divine Law. Hence, the appeal to a reflex principle is absurd, as conceding contrary intellectual habits within a man toward the same object.

Objection. In response to this, probabilists argue that the probabiliorists argue in a self-contradictory manner. For, just as the reflex principle of the probabilists is only probable, so also are the direct judgements of the probabiliorists. Hence, they would either slide into rigorism or admit that a probable reflex principle is sufficient in such matters.

The response to this objection is able to truly reach the root of the dispute. The objector errs insofar as he understands “moral certainty” to mean the same degree of certainty as avails in the speculative order. Rather, moral certainty in the principle initially enunciated refers to something that is more probable. Hence, the objection is impotent.

When we speak of “more probable” and “less probable” we speak on behalf of the weight of the arguments and the motives for ascertaining truth. Now, when a man considers both sides of the problem and sees that one has more grave motives for assent, then this absorbs the less grave motives for the opposite side. For, to be drawn to one terminus is to be drawn away from its opposite. Hence, to be “more probable” in the moral sphere is to attain certitude as to the prudence of the act, withdrawing from the opposite as lacking certitude. With this consideration, the entire dispute dissolves. How can a direct principle withdraw the intellect from a certain side of a doubt as dubious while an indirect principle simultaneously draws the intellect toward that same side as certain?

From this, probabiliorists conclude that the “less probable” does not have true probability comparatively as to the more probable in the intellect of the one judging moral truth. Hence, to follow such a position is imprudent.

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In this article, I want to explain these distinctions in a bit more detail. Before we begin, it is important to note that this discussion is about what is sufficient for the concepts of merit and demerit for man in a state of fallen nature. The question we are asking is NOT whether there are cases where men have greater or lesser degrees of liberty. Rather, the question we are asking concerns how grace affects the will as to merit and how the fall affects the will as to sin.

Keep in mind as a principle that we speak of some act as free insofar as that act lacks some degree of necessity. Also note that necessity differs from infallibility insofar as necessity denotes the potency of dissenting (i.e., indifference), whereas infallibility denotes the certainty of the outcome. The former denotes the mode whereby something is done; the latter denotes the certainty with which it is done. To give an analogy, the human authors of Sacred Scripture act in such a way as to infallibly record the inspirations of the Holy Spirit, yet they do so in a manner that is free.

From this, we speak of two kinds of freedom broadly: libertas a coactione and libertas a necessitate. Each one of these removes a different form of necessity.

The former—called liberty from coercion—refers to freedom from external constraint. Hence, for example, if someone is forced to stab another person, they lack libertas a coactione. Now, we can also state this positively as well. While there is no extrinsic principle necessitating such and such an action, this does not deny that there is an intrinsic principle necessitating such and such an action. Hence, for example, a man with the beatific vision has no extrinsic principle necessitating that he love God, yet he DOES have an intrinsic principle necessitating his love for God. To put the negative libertas a coactione in a positive form, we call it a libertas spontaneitatis, i.e., a freedom of spontaneity. Hence, it is something that flows forth necessarily and spontaneously from our natures. Now, to affirm an intrinsic principle necessitating such and such an action is to make a certain denial, i.e., the denial of a proximate potency of dissenting. Even animals have this sort of freedom, explicable in purely mechanical terms, of a certain nature (e.g., the nature of a dog) combined with certain circumstances (e.g., hunger, a good), resulting in the spontaneous action of the beast towards what its nature tends (e.g., eating). There is no indifference here rooted in judgement between finite goods, but only the internal compulsion of nature.

The latter—called liberty from necessity—refers to freedom from both external and internal constraint. The man in the beatific vision, constrained to love by the compulsion of his nature, lacks libertas a necessitate. He is not externally compelled by any force, but is internally compelled by the perfect good placed before him. On earth, the perfect good is not placed before his intellect; rather, his intellect discerns various partial goods that it proposes to his will. This judgement becomes the root of freedom in the man. The man possesses the proximate potency of dissenting. This is called the liberty of indifference, owing to the condition of the will of man towards what is to be willed. Whereas in the libertas spontaneitatis the nature of man is intrinsically fixed towards the object, the libertas a necessitate is called the libertas indifferentiae insofar as the will of man stands indifferent towards various partial goods.

There is a gulf of difference between these two states of freedom. The former is the freedom of the beatific vision, internally compelled to such and such an act. The latter is the freedom of those with infallibly efficacious graces, physically premoved in such a way as to maintain and establish the proximate potency for dissenting.

From this, we can better understand the condemnations of the Church on this matter. Jansen’s third proposition was condemned: “For merit and demerit, in the state of fallen nature, libertas a necessitate is not necessary for man; libertas a coactione is enough.” Here, it is important to recall what was said at the beginning of the article. The question is not about whether or not libertas spontaneitatis exists, but rather what form of liberty is sufficient for a meritorious or demeritorious act for man in a state of fallen nature.

This obviously has serious implications for our doctrine of grace and sin. The Jansenistic and Calvinistic doctrine (cf. Institutes of Elenctic Theology 10.3) held that there was a true libertas a coactione when acting meritoriously under the influence of grace or acting demeritoriously under the influence of original sin, but that there was not a true libertas a necessitate. Hence, they held that freedom was formally constituted by rational spontaneity rather than by indiffernce.

Unfortunately, there is a polemical cycle that many of the ‘E-Theology’ circles are stuck in, where repeating these basic facts and common narratives becomes the cottage industry. There is not much new or fresh in here, nor does it often lead to a more profound understanding of the truth. Rather, theology (especially scholastic theology) becomes a mindless endeavor of collecting sources to show how a pet doctrine is misunderstood by other people. The culture this builds is quite destructive. Readers are not reading out of genuine interest, but are compelled to out of an addiction to being confirmed in a midwit’s understanding of ‘esoteric’ doctrine. Authors believe that their collection of resources constitutes a genuine theological achievement; in reality, such work requires little insight or synthetic power—the marks of true theology.

Hence, I hope to avoid these tendencies by asking a question that is a bit more interesting: if most accusations of ‘Calvinism’ are absurd, what are some important differences with ‘Thomism,’ if any? This question is a bit more interesting, but could only make sense if one has no idea what either of those two words mean. The questioner asks such a question as if Thomism and Calvinism could be limited to one doctrine of theology. In reality, they are both systems of theology with innumerable differences in each tract of theology.

Yet, when such a question is asked, it would be disingenuous for me to pretend as if I did not understand what the questioner was attempting to ask. When this question is asked, the particular question is whether the Thomist and the Calvinist differ in their articulation of how God’s predestinating decree relates to acts of free will.

Here, I don’t want to give my own answer for how I would personally articulate whether there is a difference; rather, I will be giving what the Thomists themselves commonly say about the difference between the two, drawing from Billuart and Gonet.

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It has become quite popular to attempt to vindicate the Protestant canon of Scripture by appealing to the Dominican Cardinal Thomas de Vio Cajetan. As a Thomist, I quite frequently reference Cajetan. In fact, I have used the username “Cajetanus” on and off due to my admiration for the Prince of the Commentators. I keep a copy of his Summa commentaries on my desk in my office. It is quite rare that I find myself departing from Cardinal Cajetan’s opinions on anything.

Hence, what do I make of this narrative? I find it to be quite sloppy and missing important points of context. Further, even if it were as straightforward as the opponents attempt to make it out to be, it would be simple rhetorical fluff. It does very little to actually move the conversation forward. Sure, it defeats the obviously incorrect popular narrative that “Luther removed books from the Bible.” Yet it does not do much of anything to actually aid a person in discerning the answer to the question at hand: is the Catholic or Protestant canon correct?

Hence, discussions on canonicity that begin and end with whatever this or that historical figure thought about the matter are foolish and do not provide sufficient information to the impartial hearer to think through the matter at hand. Rather, more foundational questions are needed. What are the marks of canonicity? How do we determine these marks? Who is the judge of whether these marks apply or not? Is the Protestant position possible? Is it true? Is the Catholic position possible? Is it true?

Without these foundational questions being disputed and answered definitively, what am I to do with the information given? We live in an age of “data” where mere historical and scholarly markers are isolated from any lens through which to view them within the perspective of a synthetic whole. If I know that St. Jerome believed a certain thing about the Canon, what does this mean for the truth of the matter? What conclusions can I draw from this? Where do I obtain those minor premises that allow for demonstration, and how are these being substantiated? These are the questions and principles that go into a scientific treatment of the matter. Yet it is precisely these questions that are so absent from apologetic discussions.

The Historical Reception of Cajetan’s Commentaries

Beside these fundamental considerations, we can discuss why this narrative concerning Cardinal Cajetan’s canonical opinions is problematic as a matter of fact, by reason of its omitting key points of context.

Often, Protestants state that Cardinal Cajetan was one of the greatest and most respected scholars of the era to bolster their argument. Yet this is deceptive. Cardinal Cajetan was fundamentally a scholastic theologian. Hence, his early commentaries on Aristotle, his magisterial commentary on the Summa, and his polemical works against the Lutherans are regarded as the gold standard in their respective fields.

Yet the same cannot be said of his Biblical Commentaries. In fact, there was a common saying among theologians that Cajetan “Judaizes the Old Testament and Erasmianizes the New Testament” in his Biblical Commentaries. Almost immediately after their publication, there was opposition from many Catholic theologians, which was repeated for centuries afterwards. It is completely dishonest to pretend as if the Cajetan of the Summa Commentaries is the same as the Cajetan of the Biblical Commentaries. The former is reverenced by all Catholic theologians, even those outside of the Dominican Order, as the “Prince of the Commentators.” The latter became a byword for a man who ruins his reputation by the writings of his old age.

Ambrosius Catharinus, a fellow Dominican, wrote his Annotationes in Commentaria Caietani to systematically critique multiple errors within Cajetan’s Commentary. He also wrote his immortal Claves Duae as an indirect methodological critique of Cajetan (though never mentioning him by name). Indeed, he wrote directly to Pope Clement VII to request the condemnation of Cajetan’s Biblical Commentaries.

Multiple university faculties began investigations into Cajetan’s Biblical Commentaries. The most famous of these were the theologians of the Sorbonne, who were instructed by Pope Clement VII to send their censures to Rome rather than publish them. Yet these “leaked” and were published as the Epistola theologorum Parisiensium ad Cardinalem Coetanum reprehensoria.

Later, both Catharinus and the theologians of Paris would expand their list of censures from the Biblical Commentaries. These condemnations are repeated by the pen of the Dominican Melchor Cano in his De Locis Theologicis, though with greater moderation. The process begun by Rome of expunging the exegetical works of Cajetan commenced in 1571, but was never finished.

The accusations against Cajetan were in the thousands. Nearly all except a handful of these were plainly unfair, if not deceptive, as a perusal of the relevant passages in the commentary reveals. On nearly every page, Cajetan is careful to express his complete submission to the Church on any interpretation he sets forth in matters not yet plainly decided by the Church.

He wrote of the difficulty of interpreting Matthew 19 in light of the Church’s commitment to the indissolubility of marriage, leaving the matter to the Church as judge. His opponents stated that Cajetan firmly denied the indissolubility of marriage. He wrote that Christ established confession, yet left it to the Church to determine when it was to be private or public. His opponents stated that Cajetan denied that auricular confession was established by Christ. Cajetan stated that an exegete should not fear giving a new interpretation not offered by the Fathers, provided it was not contrary to the Catholic Faith and was in keeping with the context of the passage. His opponents stated that Cajetan taught that an exegete may give an interpretation against the common interpretation of the Fathers. The list goes on, and the same story repeated itself for hundreds of different passages.

Even Melchor Cano (a heresy hunter in his own right) stated with exasperation against his fellow Dominican Ambrosius Catharinus:

Ambrosius Catharinus says that Cajetan committed as many sins as he uttered words…Yet he did not notice (that man so prompt to find fault) that in reproving Cajetan he himself erred frequently and greatly. In this very place he erred three times. (De Locis, lib. 2, cap. xi, ad 4.)

Cajetan’s Response

What many do not clarify on this point is that Cajetan himself actually briefly stepped into the ring to defend himself almost immediately before his death. Specifically, he responded to the sixteen articles of the Paris theologians mentioned above. He comes across as quite frustrated by what he had read. One of the greatest theologians in the history of the Church, now in the twilight of his life, was being bothered by anonymous pamphlets accusing him of heresy.

For most of the articles, Cajetan denies that he actually holds the position of which he is accused. For some, he is simply shocked that he is being accused on such a matter, since the position is either a clearly non-essential one (e.g., whether St. Paul had a wife) or concerns a completely obvious issue (e.g., whether the Pope can dispense clerics from celibacy).

The one issue most interesting for our purposes is the question of canonicity. When Cajetan denies that the Old and New Testament deuterocanonical books are “canonical,” what does he mean by this? The Protestants would have you believe that such books are said to be “non-canonical” because he denies that they are inspired by God. This is certainly what is meant in the Protestant confessions:

The books commonly called Apocrypha, not being of divine inspiration, are no part of the Canon of the Scripture; and therefore are of no authority in the Church of God, nor to be any otherwise approved, or made use of, than other human writings. (Westminster Confession, Ch. 1, III)

Yet Cajetan clarifies his own position, and (in my opinion) while he certainly errs on certain historical matters, his position is compatible with the Council of Trent and offers a lens through which to view the pre-Tridentine tradition:

[Accusation]: The epistle of Paul to the Hebrews is not authentic. That article is not mine, for in the commentaries on that epistle I did not deny that the epistle is authentic, but I said that in Jerome there was doubt about the author of this epistle, and this doubt renders the epistle doubtful; for if it is not by Paul, it is not clear that it is canonical. Here you see that where the author of the epistle is in doubt, I deny that its authenticity is perspicuous, but I do not deny that it is authentic. That an epistle is canonical is one thing, and that it is perspicuous that it is canonical is another. Perspicuity is a matter of our knowledge, but to be canonical pertains to the epistle itself as it is. If the doubt were taken away it would be perspicuous, but not on that account would it newly become canonical; rather, what was canonical in itself would be shown to be canonical. But it is certain that while there is doubt, it is not of such authority as to suffice on its own for the things that are of the faith. (Reply to the Paris Theologians)

Here there is an interesting clarification of his own position. Cajetan, like many authors, makes the distinction between books that are able to establish matters of faith and books that are able to establish matters of morals—commonly described as serving “the edification of the faithful” or belonging to the “ecclesiastical canon.”

Now, there are two ways this could be interpreted. First, one can interpret Cajetan as holding that such books are of a lesser intrinsic authority insofar as they lack authenticity (that is, insofar as one denies that such books have divine authorship). This is how the Protestants understand the matter. Second, one can interpret Cajetan as holding that such books are of a lesser extrinsic authority insofar as they lack the full approbation of the Church, and hence we lack a certain firmness of knowledge concerning their divine origins (which complete firmness we call “canonicity”). The first position is a Protestant one; the second is contrary to Protestantism.

The second interpretation supposes that the Church can give her judgment on the matter, making it certain that the deuterocanonical books are truly authentic and inspired by God, yet it makes an exegetical and historical mistake in denying that such a judgment had already occurred. That said, if one wished to defend Cajetan further, many authors to this day question whether the solemn canonization of the deuterocanonical books occurred before Trent: “The Council of Florence therefore taught the inspiration of all the Scriptures, but did not formally pass on their canonicity.” (Catholic Encyclopedia, “The Canon of the Old Testament.”)

It is in this sense that I say that Cajetan’s position is compatible with the Council of Trent. For, Cajetan concedes both the possibility that such books are inspired and the authority of the Church to make a judgement on this matter. These conditions are sufficient to accept the decree of Trent. This is quite different from the Protestant position which necessarily excludes the possibility that such books are inspired and denies the authority of the Church to make a judgement on this matter.

In this passage, Cajetan makes clear his reason for “limiting” the canonicity of the deuterocanonical books: “it is certain that while there is doubt, it is not of such authority as to suffice on its own for the things that are of the faith.” Why were the deuterocanonical books unable to suffice for the establishment of matters of faith? Had he been a Protestant, he would have pointed to their lesser intrinsic authority. Yet he simply holds that they have a lesser extrinsic authority—that is, their authenticity has not been clearly and definitively taught by the Church.

Among men, there are two principal acts of mercy. First, upon viewing the misery of another person, we commiserate. We are afflicted by passions of sorrow for that other person insofar as they are afflicted by evil. Hence, Jesus wept for the coming destruction of Jerusalem, so certain by His prophetic gaze that He wept for it as if it were already present. This is the mercy that is affective as touching the affections.

Second, we will to remove that evil from the other person. Hence, when we see another in great desolation and poverty, mercy leads us not only to weep for the evil that afflicts him, but also to will to remove that person from those evils. The spiritual and corporeal works of mercy are acts of mercy insofar as they are meant to remove certain spiritual or corporeal evils from men.

It is precisely this distinction that will become so important for understanding the Sacred Heart and how such devotion fulfills St. Paul’s understanding of the Incarnation as an act of supreme mercy.

When we raise our minds to contemplate the Deity, the notion of mercy has often been hidden from the gaze of men. To those groping around in the darkness of Paganism and with only the tools of reason, it is quite easy to understand how this was to come about. Two errors arose in this matter. First, there were those who, considering the great evils that beset creation, could not understand how God was merciful, seeming quite content with the evils that afflict us. Second, there were those who, due to their more sublime notion of God, understood the impassible tranquility of God. Hence, it quite reasonably followed that mercy could not be present within the Deity. For, if mercy involved the commiseration of one with another, then how could God, who is devoid of passions, be merciful unto creatures?

It is only by the illuminating light of the revelation of God in Jesus Christ that mercy was enthroned as one of the chief attributes of God, so that every Catholic has on his lips the refrain miserere mei, Deus.

In the sense of effective mercy, we can easily see how this applies to God. The will to remove evil from another and pour goodness upon him is constantly and liberally experienced throughout all creation. It is the merciful God who equally pours out rain on the evil and the just. Those in sorrow are comforted by His mercy. It is His mercy that sustains and raises up those in deep affliction. The Psalmist expresses this mercy in varied and rich expressions, as if to make an entire book extolling the mercy of God. Why does the Psalmist speak so much of his sorrow? So he can speak so much of God’s mercy.

In fact, many theologians are so bold as to posit that mercy, in this sense, is one of those “simply simple” perfections of God that are attributed to Him in the full and proper sense, rather than metaphorically. This seems to be the opinion of St. Thomas, who states that: Unde et misereri ponitur proprium Deo, et in hoc maxime dicitur eius omnipotentia manifestari (ST II-II, Q. 30, A. 4). This is supported by the divine Cajetan in his commentary on this passage, who especially notes the appeal to the manifestation of God’s omnipotence by His mercy. For, lack is opposed to perfection. Hence, the greater the lack, the greater the opposition to perfection. Therefore, God is most merciful as most omnipotent insofar as He is the sole ultimate reason for the very being of things and all their modes. Not only redemption, but even creation is a supreme act of the mercy of God, dispelling the poverty of non-being. It is for this reason that the Psalmist sings that His tender mercy is over all His works. Yet, we must note with St. Thomas in ST I-II, Q. 113, A. 9 that the justification of a single sinner is an even greater work than the creation of the entire universe of creatures: Greater than these shall he do (John 14:12).

It is in the second act of mercy that things begin to get complicated. While it is perfectly sensible to attribute to God effective mercy (removing evil by pouring out goodness) the same cannot be said of affective mercy. It is a crude error of the Pagans to attribute human passions to God, imagining as if God were in possession of sense appetites. Hence, it is quite clear that God cannot commiserate in Himself. For, God in His sublime tranquility remains ever blessed in Himself. It would be the starkest blasphemy to assume that the changing motions of human hearts were present in the Deity.

Yet, this seems so abnormal, so cold to the hearts of men. How are we to love one who cannot commiserate with us? In this, we should make a distinction. There are two ways of lacking some created perfection. On the one hand, we can imagine that someone lacks this created perfection because he is imperfect. Hence, we condemn the cold-hearted man who is not touched by the suffering of another. This is a privation for him since it is of his nature to be merciful. Yet, on the other hand, we can imagine that someone “lacks” this created perfection because he is more perfect. Hence, rather than being devoid of the goodness of such a created perfection, he possesses it in an eminent degree. He simply lacks the imperfections and limitations of possessing that created perfection as such. To give a remote analogy, it is true to say that the peasant and the king both “lack” legislative power, yet for obviously different reasons. The peasant lacks because he has no power. The king lacks because his power is of a completely higher order than a mere legislator. Thus, when we say that God “lacks” affective mercy, we do not mean this in a complete sense, but only insofar as affective mercy implies limitation and imperfection. Indeed, theologians are happy to attribute even affective mercy to God, yet with the qualifier that this is not properly and formally, but virtually. Hence, God possesses such an abundance of perfection that He possesses everything that is true and good about affective mercy without any of the creaturely limitations. Not only that, but He is the source of all affective mercy, pouring out this good upon all.

It is precisely here that we see the relevance of the Sacred Heart for our meditation. God not only possesses those formal perfections (truth, goodness, being, etc.), but also those virtual perfections that He communicates to creatures. The former are communicated in their full and proper nature in the eternal generation of the Word. Yet, the latter remain as if “stunted” in nature. We look around us at these virtual perfections as they naturally exist and see only defective and partial views of them. It is as if we looked around us and only saw heat without fire. We see shadows and images of these perfections without the pure and natural exemplar. Even God only possesses these virtually and eminently, presenting the perfections of these attributes without their proper natures.

It is in light of this that the Incarnation relieves this tension. While we said that God cannot cannot commiserate in Himself, i.e., in His Deity, God can commiserate outside of His Deity, i.e., in the human nature united to Himself. Those manifold perfections of the God-Man are not only virtually present in His humanity, but even formally present in His humanity as they properly and naturally exist. This is especially evident in the Sacred Heart, whose feast we celebrate today.

Before the Incarnation, the purity of affective mercy was lost upon us. What we saw among men was its nature, but imperfectly expressed. What we saw with God was the perfections, yet without its nature. In the God-Man, we see a pure and perfect commiseration — a mercy most sublime. For the first time, creatures are able to gaze upon affective mercy that is both concrete and natural, yet avoids the imperfections of creatures.

Truly, we are able to say with Gonet that only in the Sacred Heart of Jesus is God perfectly merciful. For, as St. Paul says, He had to be made like His brethren in all things, that He might become merciful. The Sacred Heart of Jesus, union of divine and human love, is where the perfectly effective mercy and the perfectly affective mercy find their union.

While I will not be republishing the entire discussion (which can be read here), I think pointing to some broad outlines of the discussion and some of the ways in which the Scholastics shine in their treatment of the matter will be helpful to the average reader confused by some of the rhetoric against the efficacy and fruits of the Catholic Mass.

It will be helpful to address some preliminaries from the beginning.

First, we must distinguish between the dignity and fruits of the Mass. To the great shame of their school, a handful of theologians followed Bl. Scotus in his denial of the simply infinite dignity of the Mass. Yet, the Thomists and others rejected this position, arguing for its infinite dignity from the infinite dignity of the priest offering (Christ) and the victim offered (Christ). As the Salmanticenses give the state of the question, distinct from this question of dignity is the question of the fruits of the Mass. The dignity concerns our estimation of the meritorious act as considered in itself (i.e., in actu primo), whereas the fruits concern our estimation of the meritorious act as considered in its effects (i.e., in actu secundo).

Second, it is clear enough that the dignity of the Mass is infinite (contrary to the minority of theologians holding the opposite). Yet, concerning the fruits of the Mass, it is evident that these are limited. We can demonstrate this with a demonstratio quia (simply making evident its existence) or with a demonstratio propter quid (making evident both its existence and formal reason).

α) First, the fact that the fruits of the Mass are limited is evident from considering the effects of the Mass. The ends of the Mass are four: adoration, thanksgiving, propitiation, and impetration. Yet, it is evident that these ends of the Mass are actually limited. For these ends do not take place at all times, nor do they take place for all people, nor under all respects, nor with respect to all acts. Rather, it is clear that they are limited in accordance with the one offering. Example: The Church offers the Mass for the salvation of all men and the temporal welfare of the Church, yet many men are damned and the Church is often temporally harmed.

This consideration is so obvious, so spontaneous, that it should arise as a first thought when hearing such rhetoric. Unless one thought that the work of Christ effected all men, at all times, in all its effects, then, for him, the Mass is limited. To pose this question of the limitations of the fruits of the Mass as a distinctively “Roman problem” does not adequately understand the boat we are all in. The Roman theologians simply have the courage to accept by faith what is revealed and to seek understanding from this perspective.

Objection. To this, Sean objects: “Obviously the article was talking about its infinite propitiatory value as opposed to the Roman Mass’s limitation.”

Response. It is evident that everyone must admit the limitation of the propitiatory fruits as well. For it is evident that the propitiatory fruits of the Mass are limited in many ways, just as the propitiatory fruits of the Cross are limited as well. Remember, when we state things like “the Mass is limited in propitiatory fruits,” we are speaking of the act as considered in actu secundo rather than the act as considered in actu primo. In second act, i.e., as actually terminating in the propitiation of sins, the Cross and Mass are clearly limited. Otherwise: a) all men would have their sins forgiven; b) such forgiveness of sins would take place at the instant of the Passion; c) future sins would be forgiven as well. Many Masses include in their intentions the salvation of heretics, yet not all heretics are saved.

β) As to the propter quid of the limitation of the fruits of the Mass, this comes from the nature of a meritorious cause and the liberty of Christ. A meritorious cause is a type of efficient cause insofar as it is an extrinsic cause impressing upon the subject. Unlike the intrinsic causes (form, matter), it does not naturally produce its effect as limited by its nature. Rather, the meritorious cause brings about its effect freely, in the degree and to the extent that the cause pleases. Hence, Christ is supremely free to bring about the fruits of His Passion when, how, and to whom He pleases.

Upon this realization, the entire argument of Sean falls flat. It is illegitimate to argue from the infinite dignity of a meritorious cause in actu primo to the infinite dignity of its effects in actu secundo, since the cause is a free agent. Hence, while the Passion of Christ has the dignity to propitiate each of the sins of each man, He restricts the fruits of His Passion by His own free will.

Again, a meritorious cause does not act like a formal cause. A formal cause naturally expels all of its contraries (e.g., heat expels coldness), yet the same cannot be said of a free agent who is the meritorious cause of certain effects.

Analogy. Analogously, we can consider the supreme liberty of God in creating. Some heterodox theologians, considering the supreme goodness and perfection of God, concluded that God must necessarily create the most perfect world possible (hence, e.g., necessitating the Incarnation). Yet they are wrong, insofar as God is at liberty to terminate or not terminate the necessary act of His will with active indifference in the existence of anything that He creates. This is a supreme perfection insofar as He lacks any dependence on creatures.

The termination of God’s will in this or that creature does not add any intrinsic perfection to the eternal, necessary, immutable, and most good act of will. In a similar way, the ever glorious and most blessed Passion of our Redeemer and Lord gains no honor, no dignity, no worthiness from its termination in this or that object. Rather, its intrinsic dignity is derived from the supreme act of charity offered to His Eternal Father, an act of supreme worship. Hence, we can confidently say — and must ever say with never-ending glory to the Incarnate Lord — that His Passion would be ever glorious and supremely loveable even if it were not to redeem a single sinner. Even if the entire mass of men were to plunge into the depths of hell for eternity, and not a single Deo Gratias were derived from it, the Lamb who was slain would be supremely worthy of the perpetual adoration of all creatures.

Hence, we see that, far from an affront to the supreme dignity of the Passion of Our Lord, the Roman theologians, led by the light of Faith and ever vigilant to avoid the stain of heresy, have been ever careful to preserve it. From this, we see the fruit of Sean Luke’s rhetoric:

1. The liberty of the Incarnate Word is diminished insofar as He is not at liberty to restrict the degree in which the fruits of His Passion are communicated, which is an exercise of His supreme liberty and prudence.

2. The intrinsic dignity of the Mass is diminished insofar as it is not sufficiently achieved in actu primo, but also requires its termination in actu secundo.

Objection 1. Sean: “The limitation on the remission of temporal punishment doesn’t apply to the newly baptized so long as they have faith whatsoever… For the exact same reason this should apply in Baptism — since it is the life of Christ, who is the God-Man and thus whose life is always infinitely more lovely than sin is ugly — it should apply here.”

Response. Indirectly, this argument proves too much. Each of the ends of the Mass takes place in virtue of the infinite charity of Christ in His life and Passion, i.e., such is their meritorious cause. Hence, if we were to argue that propitiation takes place in an infinite degree for such and such an individual, then we would also have to argue the same for the other fruits of the Mass. Yet nobody admits this as a consequence. Hence, the argument fails.

Directly, this argument suffers from a confusion between the meritorious cause of our redemption (i.e., the Passion of Christ) and the formal cause of our justification (i.e., sanctifying grace). The former is restricted in its effects according to the degree appointed by Christ, as discussed above; hence no argument can be drawn from its nature. The only conclusion that could be drawn from the principle that “the life of Christ… is always infinitely more lovely than sin is ugly” is that such a life can merit the remission of sin in an infinite degree. This is disputed by nobody. Yet that it attain this effect to the same degree in actu secundo is an illegitimate conclusion, as discussed above. Second, if he means sanctifying grace (i.e., the gift as it terminates in the justified man), then the conclusion is false, since there is no formal opposition between sanctifying grace and temporal debt. Hence, from its very nature, sanctifying grace does not expel temporal debt.

Objection 2. This contradicts the view of SS. Thomas Aquinas, Robert Bellarmine, etc., that it is the limited devotion of the ministers which limits the fruits of the Mass.

Response. When reasons are assigned for things, we may assign either more proximate or more remote and ultimate reasons. Hence, e.g., when we speak of the justification of a man, we may speak of it either as from his faith (more proximate) or from the predestinating will of God (more remote and ultimate). In a similar way, we can speak of both the limitation of ministers and the sovereign will of Christ as reasons for the limited fruits of the Mass, yet the latter is ultimate. The liberty of Christ is exercised in accordance with the laws of prudence and in a reasoned manner. Hence, He limits the fruits of His offering in accordance with reasonable considerations (e.g., the devotion of the ministers). Hence, it would be better to speak of Christ limiting the fruits of His Passion in light of the fervor of the offerer than to speak of the fervor of the offerer limiting the fruits of His Passion.

A common objection to the Catholic inclusion of the Deuterocanonical books in the biblical canon is drawn from the Fathers. The argument runs as follows: many Fathers and medievals denied the canonicity of the Deuterocanonical books; under such conditions, it is illegitimate to judge definitively in the matter; therefore, the Council of Trent judged illegitimately in this matter.

There are two ways of addressing this argument. First, one can question the minor premise. It is perfectly reasonable to argue against Protestants that their claim (that precedent among previous authors precludes judgment on the matter) is gratuitous. Not only that, but it is also contradicted by the most manifest historical examples, as well as by their own practice, even in this very case, where they include a rejection of the canonicity of the Deuterocanonical books in their confessions of faith. Second, one can question the major premise. In this case, one disputes the particular claim that statements from the Fathers and ecclesiastical writers state or imply a rejection of the teaching of the Council of Trent.

The first method deals with a question of theological methodology and ecclesiology. It is important to note that Protestants will often present this argument as what logicians call an enthymeme: they will simply state the first premise and the conclusion without actually explaining how the one leads to the other. In my experience, constantly pressing a Protestant to (a) actually explain how the one leads to the other, and (b) demonstrate the truth of the medium of demonstration, are very useful approaches.

The second method deals with questions that are historico-theological in nature. While the first method deals with matters of principle, the second deals with matters of fact. For this reason, discussions surrounding the first method are interminable, constantly laden with questions of a critical or exegetical nature, yielding little fruit for the labour involved. Yet, in order for theology to be pursued in its integrity, it is quite useful to provide reasonable explanations for continuity where possible: saepe nega, concede parum, distingue frequenter.

While it was not uncommon for theologians to concede the major premise, it was more common to deny both the major and the minor premise. Personally, while the evidence for conceding that many erred on this point seems more convincing, the arguments offered by those theologians who took the opposing view ought to be weighed objectively.

Fr. Giovanni Perrone provides a quite succinct treatment of this question from the perspective of one who denied the Protestant claim of a continuous anti-Deuterocanonical tradition in the Church before Trent.

There are three important aspects of his interpretation of the Fathers and ecclesiastical authors. First, the use of the word “canon” simply to denote the Hebrew canon. Second, the use of the word “canon” to refer to books received by the Church, indicating extrinsic rather than intrinsic authority, and hence books that can be cited with complete certainty for the demonstration of dogmas. Third, the distinction between a book as divine and a book as canonical.

Here is a translation of this treatment: Praelectiones theologicae, tom. 3, n. 32-69

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On Monday of this week, Redeemed Zoomer released a video titled “John 6 DEBUNKS Transubstantiation!“ In this video, as the title indicates, Zoomer attempted to refute Catholicism on the basis of John 6. His argument was essentially as follows: in John 6, Our Lord states that all those who eat His flesh and drink His blood have life in them. Yet, according to transubstantiation, there are those who eat His flesh and drink His blood who do not have life in them. Therefore, transubstantiation is false.

Then, Thursday morning, I released a response to this video. In this response, I showed that Zoomer: (1) was completely inconsistent in how he interprets this passage, and (2) did not properly understand the Catholic position. He was completely inconsistent because he interprets “eat” and “drink” in this passage against Catholics as eating and drinking in general, yet he interprets “eat” and “drink” in this passage in defense of his own position as referring to worthily partaking of the sacrament. He did not properly understand the Catholic position because he falsely claimed that we concede that unbelievers receive the reality of the sacrament, when in fact we only claim that they validly receive the sacrament (a distinction that has been present among Catholic theologians since the Patristic era). If you want to hear about these points in more detail, check out my response video titled “Redeemed Zoomer Just Made a Huge Mistake.”

That evening, Zoomer released a response video attempting to defend his original position. Near the very end, he takes up my response to his original video. His reply suffers from the same inconsistency and poor research as his original video. Zoomer is condemned by his own accusations against us by the very manner in which he answers objections against his own doctrine. While any distinction made by scholastic authors — following the Holy Fathers and necessary reasons — is arbitrarily labeled as “theologically irresponsible” and “forcing a paradigm,” any distinction made by Zoomer himself is treated as perfectly acceptable.

Unfortunately, as of the posting of this article, Zoomer has placed the video behind a paywall. Originally, the video was publicly available for several hours and was watched by nearly 10,000 viewers, including myself. Hence, while I will obviously not post clips, I will provide quotations in order to respond to the objections raised against my response.

Misunderstanding the Response

First, it is important to note that Zoomer did not even properly understand the response I gave in my video. He represented my response as: “there are some people who eat the true Body and Blood of Christ outwardly, yet it is to their judgment because they are not inwardly partaking of the benefits.” Hence, he thinks it is a sufficient response to the Catholic view to point out that “there is one way to eat the Body of Christ. The reason we believe this is that Scripture does not warrant any distinction between different ways of eating the Body of Christ. There is no Scripture passage that indicates that unbelievers eat the Body and Blood of Christ.”

Here, Zoomer shows that he did not even understand the response to his video in the first place. To explain the distinctions again:

Sacramentum tantum: The species of bread and wine.

Res sacramenti: The Body and Blood of Christ.

Hence, when we use the phrase carnal mastication or sacramental eating, we say that the individual has validly received the sacrament (since the sacrament is not merely found in its use), but we completely deny that he has received the Body and Blood of Christ. Therefore, to interpret the response as “there are some people who eat the true Body and Blood of Christ outwardly” is to completely misunderstand what is being said. In this case, the Body and Blood of Christ are not received — they are profaned. This is what was clearly stated by Ss. Thomas and Bonaventure in the quotations given in my video.

Objection. Does this not contradict transubstantiation?

Response. No, it does not. This is why I said that the central misunderstanding underlying these sorts of arguments against transubstantiation is an overly materialistic understanding of “substance” when we speak about the Eucharist. The substance of the Body and Blood of Christ is not some sort of body extended into space with three dimensions. To hold this would be to attribute accidents to the Body and Blood of Christ in the Sacrament — namely, dimensive quantity. Hence, theologians rejected the opinions of Walter of Saint Victor and Abbot Abbaudus as heretical when they maintained that the fracturing of the bread in the Eucharist fractured the Body of Christ in itself. While we may speak of a certain communicatio idiomatum between the actions on the species of bread and wine and the Body and Blood of Christ, properly speaking, the sole subject of these external passions is the sacramental species itself (the sacramentum) and not the Body and Blood of Christ (the res sacramenti). If I were to cut or burn the sacramental species, I would be profaning the Body and Blood of Christ by reason of the sacramental union between the species and Christ, but I would not be cutting or burning Christ as the subject of cutting or burning.

There are three errors opposed to Catholic dogma that are relevant here. First, there are those who hold that the presence of Christ is only in the use of the sacrament. Second, there are those who hold that the unbeliever does not validly receive the sacrament. Third, there are those who hold that the presence of Christ ceases to exist under the sacramental species once it touches the lips of the unbeliever (cf. ST III, Q. 80, A. 3).

Exegesis of John 6, pt. 1: Sacrament and Reality

It is this point that makes the Catholic exegesis of the passage so convincing. Redeemed Zoomer claims that I am “adding distinctions” that Jesus does not make in this passage:

“This is probably the best counterargument against mine, but it still inserts a distinction that Jesus does not make. Jesus does not say, ‘Everyone who eats my flesh spiritually has eternal life, but there is a different way to eat my flesh where you might not have eternal life.’ He doesn’t say that. It is theologically irresponsible to insert distinctions where the text does not demand them. Scholastic theology does this all the time — you can get out of any theological dilemma by making enough distinctions. And this is similar to what liberal, gay-affirming theologians do. I’m not saying these Catholics are being like the liberals, but it is a similar move: making arbitrary distinctions just to fit your paradigm when the text does not actually demand those distinctions.”

Yet, if one is a careful exegete of verses 53–56 (as St. Augustine was, whom Zoomer quotes in vain) this understanding of the passage is quite clear and flows from the text itself. In this section, where the necessity and efficacy of the flesh and blood of Christ is forcefully emphasized, Christ does not speak of the sacramentum (”unless you receive the Eucharistic species,” “he who eats the Eucharistic species,” etc.), but of the res sacramenti (”unless you eat the flesh,” “he who eats my flesh,” etc.). In the very passages that Zoomer quotes, it is quite clear that the res sacramenti is being spoken of, not simply the sacramentum.

Following the exegesis of the Fathers and being careful readers of the text is not what “liberal, gay-affirming theologians do,” that is what intelligent and responsible exegetes do when drawing conclusions. Interestingly, it is actually Zoomer who acts as “liberal, gay-affirming theologians do” in his methodology: ideologically adhering to an interpretation of a text that is not carefully demonstrated, for polemical reasons, while making solely rhetorical points against any pushback. Quite subversive, if you ask me.

Objection. Does this not deny the teaching of the Fathers that this passage is Eucharistic?

Response. This misunderstands the position. Catholic authors who exegete the passage in this way are not saying that the passage is not Eucharistic. In fact, they are forcefully affirming that it is Eucharistic. Rather, we are asking a question about what the object of eating and drinking is in these verses. Did Jesus intend to say that all those who eat or drink the sacramental species have eternal life? Did Jesus intend to say that without eating or drinking the sacramental species, one has no eternal life in him? Or did Jesus mean to say that all those who receive the res sacramenti — that is, His Body and Blood — have eternal life, and that such is necessary for eternal life?

If one takes what the text actually says, then it is obviously the latter:

V. 53–54: “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you; he who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day.”

V. 56: “He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him.”

It is in this way that St. Fulgentius, when asked about the fate of the baptized who had not received the Eucharist, interpreted John 6 and St. Augustine’s writings:

“There should be no doubt for anyone that each one of the faithful becomes a sharer in the Body and Blood of the Lord [i.e., the res sacramenti] when he is made a member of the Body of Christ in Baptism and is not alienated from the fellowship of that bread and cup [i.e., excommunicated], even if, before he eats that bread and drinks that cup [i.e., participates in the sacramentum], he leaves this world in the unity of the Body of Christ. He is not deprived of the participation in and benefit of that sacrament when he is that which the sacrament signifies.” (Ep. 12, n. 26; NOTE: St Fulgentius, as Ss. Augustine, Thomas, and others also take the res sacramenti in an ecclesial sense since we become the mystical body of Christ through the sacramental body of Christ)

Further, this is the clear reading of St. Augustine, who states that the “flesh” and “blood” in this passage refer to that which the sacrament signifies:

“Whoever does not remain in Christ and in whom Christ does not remain, without doubt neither eats His flesh nor drinks His blood; but rather eats and drinks the Sacrament of so great a reality unto his own judgment, because, being unclean, he has presumed to approach the Sacraments of Christ, which no one receives worthily unless he is clean…” (Tractate 26, n. 18)

Here, it is impossible to interpret St. Augustine as reading “flesh” and “blood” as simply referring to the sacramentum. Yet he is equally clear that the sacramentum is the sign of the reality being spoken of (as appears clearly from the whole passage). Hence, according to his own words, “flesh” and “blood” refer to the res sacramenti rather than simply to the sacramentum. This interpretation of St. Augustine’s Eucharistic theology is fairly standard even among Protestant theologians (cf. Schaff).

It seems that Zoomer, despite posturing about how much he knows about his own tradition, is completely unaware that Reformed Eucharistic theology employs the very distinction between the sacrament and the reality of the sacrament. In fact, this is the central lens through which the Reformed view the nature of the sacraments: as a sacramental union between sign and thing signified. While this is present in virtually every author on this matter, the Westminster Confession of Faith summarizes the point as follows:

“There is in every sacrament a spiritual relation, or sacramental union, between the sign and the thing signified; whence it comes to pass that the names and the effects of the one are attributed to the other.” (27.2)

Exegesis of John 6, pt. 2: Spiritual and Carnal Eating

Yet it is not only the distinction between res sacramenti and sacramentum that Zoomer has a problem with, it is also the distinction between carnal mastication and spiritual mastication. To clarify another misunderstanding (which should have been clear enough from my original video and the very terms used): carnal mastication is to the sacramentum what spiritual mastication is to the res sacramenti. Properly speaking, the wicked do not receive the Body and Blood of Christ except per accidens (insofar as there is a sacramental union between species and substance) and sacramentally. They press between their teeth the sacramental species, under which the Body and Blood of Christ are present (cf. the three errors against Transubstantiation given above). It is only by a certain communicatio idiomatum that we could refer to it in any other way. Again, if one properly understands the concept of “substance,” there is no difficulty here.

Zoomer’s denial and misunderstanding of the distinction between the two kinds of mastication was completely shocking to me. How does he not see the hypocrisy, inconsistency, and rupture with his own tradition in making this point? If you open any Reformed author on John 6, he interprets “eat” and “drink” as referring to spiritual eating and drinking with faith. Even those Reformed authors who do not interpret the passage as Eucharistic will still interpret “eat” and “drink” in this way. In fact, in my original video, I quoted two authors on the passage to show this point on both interpretations.

Zoomer has effectively abandoned any claim to continuity with his own tradition in order to pass a second-rate argument on a YouTube video — quite a sin against piety toward one’s forefathers, if you ask me. It is here that we see how vain the appeal to the Fathers is for Zoomer. It is a rhetorical tool used against simple, earnest people seeking the truth. He will attempt to appeal to St. Augustine on the distinction between sacramentum and res sacramenti in order to confuse people into thinking that this distinction is a denial of transubstantiation, while simultaneously denying the relevance of that very distinction when I employ it to exegete the passage, not understanding that this is precisely the context of the citation he gave of St. Augustine’s comments concerning “pressing the Sacrament between the teeth.” Quite a mess.

Yet he does not realize that St. Augustine (in union with the Fathers, Catholic exegetes, and Reformed exegetes alike) interprets the “eating” and “drinking” as spiritual mastication:

“Moses ate manna, Aaron ate manna, Phinehas ate manna, and many ate manna who were pleasing to the Lord, and they are not dead. Why? Because they understood the visible food spiritually, hungered spiritually, tasted spiritually, that they might be filled spiritually. For even we at this day receive visible food: but the sacrament [i.e., sacramentum] is one thing, the virtue of the sacrament [i.e., res sacramenti] another. How many receive at the altar and die — and die indeed by receiving? Whence the Apostle says, ‘eats and drinks judgment to himself’… See then, brethren, that you eat the heavenly bread in a spiritual sense; bring innocence to the altar.” (Tractate 26, n. 11)

According to Zoomer, this exegesis is comparable to that of “gay-affirming liberal theologians.” Why, then, Zoomer, did you quote this very Tractate in your video while also denying the distinctions between sacramentum and res sacramenti, and between spiritual and carnal mastication? It is quite obvious that he did not even read this Tractate before quoting it; or, if he did, then he either has poor reading comprehension or is quite boldly being dishonest. I will let the reader decide whether he is, as Zoomer accused St. Francis de Sales of being, a “moron” or “liar.”

Yet, like the distinction given in the previous section, this distinction too is clear from a serene, non-polemical exegesis of the text. The statements on eating His flesh and drinking His blood do not occur in a vacuum. They are preceded by a discourse on Christ as the Bread of Life. Throughout this section, there is a consistent interchange between the command to eat the bread and the command to believe: “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” (v. 29) Later, He makes this even more explicit: “I am the bread of life; he who comes to me shall not hunger, and he who believes in me shall never thirst.” (v. 35) “Truly, truly, I say to you, he who believes has eternal life. I am the bread of life… This is the bread which comes down from heaven, that a man may eat of it and not die.” (vv. 47, 50)

These concepts (belief and eating) are very explicitly connected throughout the entire chapter. It would be quite strained to interpret “eating” as referring merely to any sort of carnal mastication, such as could be performed even by irrational animals. Rather, the “eating” in view is an eating that proceeds from faith.

Hypocritical methodology

This becomes even more frustrating when he concedes that distinctions can be made where another text provides the contextualizing warrant:

“An example of when the text does demand a distinction is when Paul says, ‘We are justified by faith and not by works,’ and James says, ‘We are justified by works and not by faith alone.’ That demands a distinction, if we all believe the Bible is infallible, because without making distinctions in the way they use the words faith, justification, and works, we have a contradiction. But there is no contradiction if you interpret John 6 at face value without making a distinction between different types of eating the Body and Blood of Christ.”

How could I not claim the same warrant for both of the distinctions I made?

First, “eating” can refer either to carnal mastication or to spiritual mastication. Now, if it referred to carnal mastication, then there could be those with eternal life without faith — contrary to John 3:18: “He who believes in him is not condemned; he who does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God.” Therefore, it refers to spiritual mastication, as taught by the Fathers, theologians, and the Reformed alike.

Second, “flesh” and “blood” can refer either to the sacramentum or to the res sacramenti. Now, if it referred to the sacramentum, this would be contrary to two sets of texts from Scripture. (α) It is contrary to the example of Judas (and of many reprobate) who received the Sacrament yet was damned: “It would have been better for that man if he had not been born.” (Mt. 26:24) (β) It is contrary to the text of 1 Corinthians 11, which states that there are those who receive the sacramentum to their own judgment precisely because of their profanation of the res sacramenti: “Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of profaning the body and blood of the Lord.” (v. 27)

To the second set of texts, Zoomer answers that all those he wrote to were elect:

“Paul is not necessarily addressing unbelievers. Paul is not necessarily addressing people who don’t have faith or don’t have eternal life. It would make perfect sense to assume he is writing to believers who do have faith in Christ and do have eternal life, but who are still taking the Eucharist in a sinful manner.”

This is where the accusations of “adding distinctions” and “reading into the text” wear thin. How can he accuse the Scholastics of this, when Zoomer simply asserts (with no argument) that every member of the Corinthian congregation had eternal life? How would it be in any way reasonable to assume that there was not a single reprobate in the entire congregation?

This is also simply bad exegesis. First, if we read the context of the entire epistle, there are many passages that threaten damnation to the hearers, presupposing that there are either actually or potentially reprobate in the audience. Second, the passage itself refutes this view. The verse quoted from verse 29 (”any one who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgment upon himself”) is parallel with verse 32: “we are chastened so that we may not be judged along with the world.” Clearly, the assumption is that there are actually or potentially those who will be damned in the audience, since “the judgment of the world” is clearly a reference to damnation. Hence, the chastening is necessary to exhort them to avoid sin.

Yet, funnily enough, Zoomer himself offers an interpretation of this passage under the assumption that it refers to unbelievers rather than believers. Can you guess what his interpretation was? The unbelievers are truly eating the sacrament, but not the Body and Blood of Christ. Sound familiar? If only Zoomer had listened more carefully to what I had to say:

“But let’s say hypothetically that they were unbelievers who did not have true faith. It still does not say they were actually consuming the real Body and Blood of Christ. It says they were consuming the bread and the cup and sinning against the Body and Blood of Christ… You could interpret this passage either way: either they are sinning against the Body and Blood of Christ by eating it in an irreverent manner, or they are sinning against it by eating the sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ while rejecting the Body and Blood of Christ itself. The passage never says they are actually eating the Body of Christ or drinking His Blood.”

It almost seems as though the unbelievers are eating the sacramentum without eating the res sacramenti. Very interesting! If only Catholics could agree with this interpretation of 1 Corinthians 11:

“There are two ways of receiving this sacrament, namely, spiritually and sacramentally. Therefore, some receive sacramentally and spiritually, namely, those who receive this sacrament in such a way that they also share in the rem sacramenti… But some receive only sacramentally, namely, those who receive this sacrament in such a way that they do not have the rem sacramenti.” (St. Thomas Aquinas, In 1 Cor., C. 11, L. 7, n. 698)

Beyond this, I can point to other instances where Zoomer employs what he himself calls the “gay-affirming” methodology. First, in his assertion (offered with no proof) that the sacrament is a mere instrument of the benefits of Christ (which, for what it is worth, is in my opinion a poor representation of Reformed Eucharistic theology). Second, in his unsubstantiated appeals to Reformed distinctives when faced with objections against his own doctrine, for example, his appeal to the concept of evanescent grace when confronted with an objection in his video.

Beyond these points, Zoomer does not seem to understand how to respond to an argument, or else he is pretending not to understand why I responded to his video the way I did, namely by explaining Catholic distinctives. Zoomer made a critique of Catholicism in the following form: transubstantiation teaches X; X is contrary to Scripture; therefore, transubstantiation is contrary to Scripture.

There are two ways of responding to this sort of argument. Either I could explain why the major premise is wrong (that is, that transubstantiation does not in fact teach X) or I could explain why the minor premise is wrong (that is, why X is not contrary to Scripture). My response relied substantially on replying to the major premise, explaining how there are aspects of Catholic Eucharistic doctrine that Zoomer did not properly represent. This is not “being arbitrary,” this is doing exactly what everyone, including Zoomer himself, does when faced with an argument: explaining one’s own position properly. This is something he demands of others yet does not practice himself.

Obviously, all agree that Christ in the Sacrament elicits spiritual acts of the intellect and will (in all the modes of knowledge and love commonly distinguished in Christology). Yet, the question of the sensible acts of Christ is much more difficult due to the fact that sensible acts depend on corporeal faculties. To see, an eye is needed. To hear, an ear is needed. Yet, in the Sacrament, these faculties are not present as extended. [1]

The Opinions on the Matter

This simple question has led to a multiplicity of opinions, disputed among theologians.

In order to understand this, recall that there is a distinction between immanent and transient actions. Immanent actions are those acts that are performed such that their effect remains in the agent. For our purposes, we can distinguish immanent acts into sensitive (hearing, tasting, seeing, etc.) and spiritual (knowing, willing, etc.). Transient actions are those acts that are performed such that their effect is outside of the agent (running, painting, striking, etc.).

First, there are some theologians who deny that it is at all repugnant for Christ to exercise natural acts of sensation in the Eucharist. It is important to note the term “natural,” as these theologians hold that such acts of sensation require no elevation above nature. Hence, no miracle is required according to their opinion.

α) Certain Nominalist theologians hold that Christ in the Sacrament naturally acts and is acted upon as if He were present bodily at that very place. Due to this presence, all transient and immanent acts are natural to Him. Hence, it would obviously follow that acts of sensation are natural to Him. However, God impedes Christ’s transient acts insofar as it is necessary to conceal the mystery. According to these theologians, far from requiring a miracle, some of the actions of Christ in the Eucharist must be impeded in order to conceal the mystery and allow for the exercise of faith.

β) Others slightly modify this position, holding that transient actions of Christ upon exterior bodies are natural (and, a fortiori, immanent actions), but not passions — that is, being acted upon by exterior bodies.

γ) Some hold that Christ naturally elicits acts of the senses, but that He does not acquire new species according to the mode of sacramental presence. Hence, in their opinion, it is not right to say that Christ naturally “hears” you insofar as He is acquiring the sound through the sacramental species, but only that, when receiving such through another mode, He can perform the act of hearing, seeing, etc., as He is present in the Sacrament.

Second, others state that such acts of sensation are not natural to the sacramental presence of Christ but require a miracle. This is divided into two opinions, disagreeing on whether the fact of this miracle is certain or not. To understand this, remember that knowledge of supernatural realities requires Divine Revelation. Hence, while we may discourse on whether such an act is possible or even probable, this does not tell us whether it has actually occurred. An analogous case is that of the fate of unbaptized infants. It is revealed to us that baptism is required for infants in order to be saved. Clearly, it is possible and perhaps even probable that God gives extraordinary graces to these infants, but this has not been revealed to us. Hence, we do not have certain knowledge of the matter.

α) The first opinion holds that the miracle is required by the purpose and end of the sacrament. Its defenders argue that the end of the sacrament is not only that Christ enters into spiritual communion with the faithful, but also bodily communion, which requires acts of sensation. Many theologians hold this opinion, including St. Bonaventure, Lessius, Suarez, Ysambert, Lapide, Serra, Gonet, Franzelin, and Hugon, among others. The classic work written in defense of this position is Cardinal Álvaro Cienfuegos’s Vita abscondita.

β) Others hold that this reasoning is not certain. Hence, while they concede that such a miracle is possible — or perhaps even probable — they deny that the reasoning necessarily leads to the conclusion posited. Even some of the apparent defenders of the first opinion (e.g., Hugon) seem in fact to be defenders of the second.

Third, there are those who hold that not only does Christ not elicit such acts of sensation, but that it is also impossible for Him to do so. They argue from the very nature of sensation, which requires some sort of bodily contact between a corporeal organ and the thing sensed through a sensible medium. Hence, for example, a person hears another man by means of an ear through sound carried in the air. Yet Christ in the Sacrament does not have, in Himself, quantitative contact with bodily things. This would require some sort of passion on the part of Christ insofar as the organs of sensation would have impressions made upon them from external sources.

Which Is Correct?

I incline toward the third opinion: that it neither occurs, nor could it possibly occur, that Christ performs sensible acts in the Sacrament. To understand why this makes sense, recall that transubstantiation takes place on the part of the substance of the bread and the substance of the wine. Christ’s presence in the Eucharist is not materially extended in space as the bodily presence of other things is, but rather only in the mode of substance.

From this principle it follows that we ought to refuse to predicate of Christ in the Blessed Sacrament of the Altar anything that requires the quantitative contact of Christ in the Sacrament with what is around Him, which would imply material and extrinsic extension, local presence, etc.

Yet, when it comes to bodily actions — such as the acts of the senses — such local extension is required. For the powers and faculties of sensation are bodily accidents, received into the substance by reason of quantity, from which they receive their extended mode of being and operating. This last point is crucial. The bodily accidents are received into the substance by reason of quantity. Yet, it is clear that there is no quantitative and extrinsic extension of Christ’s body in the Sacrament. Hence, it necessarily follows that Christ can no more perform external acts of sensation in the Eucharist than He can be white or tall in the Eucharist. Christ cannot be white or tall in the Eucharist since whiteness and tallness presuppose some sort of material extension. The same applies to external acts of sensation.

[1] It is important to note that the faculties of Christ’s body are indeed present, yet with an intrinsic distinction and order rather than an extrinsic distinction and order. Hence, the Roman Catechism states that “in this Sacrament are contained not only the true body of Christ and all the constituents of a true body, such as bones and sinews, but also Christ whole and entire.” In order for the sensible faculties to perform their connatural acts, it is necessary that they be present with material and extrinsic extension, since these are naturally corporeal organs.

We have heard much from traditional clerics and “conservative” politicians about the “war on the family” taking place in modern times. The family is that unit above the individual where life is brought forth, nourished, and developed into adulthood. Therefore, Satan plans to destroy this unit to strip away those many blessings that flow from this society. There is, of course, nothing wrong with this observation. In fact, the call to form and preserve the family is a noble call that must continually be made to men and women in the Church and in Civil Society. Yet, this is not the only call that must be made in the modern era.

To remove a natural society, we are told, strips from us many blessings. Beyond that, to repudiate this community is a grave sin against God that must lead to the most profound disorders. This is all true. Yet, while the war on the family has become the subject of intense scrutiny and critique, there is another war on a different natural society that has slipped below the radar: the war on the nation.

In fact, this war has been so successful that its widespread effect is to erase from public consciousness its own existence. The war on the family has led to controversy, with debates raging as to the extent of its rights and its importance in the life of the individual and society. Yet, the war on the nation has led to such a debilitating defeat that it has erased from public consciousness the very existence and reality of the nation as a concept distinct from the state.

In fact, for most of you reading, there is a desperate need for me to clarify the very concept itself before even speaking about Catholicism’s relationship with it.

Clarifying Terms

Especially in an American context, when we use the term “nation,” our mind immediately identifies it with the concept of “country.” Hence, for example, if I were to speak of “the country of Israel,” most would use the term interchangeably with “the nation of Israel.” Yet, this is not the case in the technical terminology used in Catholic Social Teaching. When we refer to a “nation,” we simply mean: “a large community of men who, because of their descent from a common stock, are in certain physical characteristics and intellectual and moral qualities to some extent distinct from all other men.” (Grenier, Thomistic Philosophy, n. 1105) So, in the example of the country of Israel, there would be two main nations in one country: a Jewish Nation and an Arab Nation. Thus, when we speak of a “two-state solution,” we are gesturing at the idea that each nation (Jewish and Arab) should have a distinct state.

The Popes of the 20th century extensively spoke of the “rights of nations” and saw it as one of the positive developments of the era that the idea of the nation and its rights was developed: “Not only has there been a development in awareness of the rights of individuals, but also in awareness of the rights of nations…” (St. John Paul II, Centesimus annus, n. 21) It is only by the full respect of these rights of nations/peoples that true peace can be achieved: “Only on the basis of full respect for the rights of men and the rights of nations — full respect! — can the peace and reconciliation of Europe and the world in future be constructed.” (St. John Paul II, 18 May 1979)

The Church lists two rights in particular: existence and self-determination. The Church also points out that the nation is perfected in its own sovereignty and its free cooperation in the higher common good. This is all wonderfully summarized in the Compendium of Social Doctrine, n. 157:

“The field of human rights has expanded to include the rights of peoples and nations…The Magisterium points out that international law ‘rests upon the principle of equal respect for States, for each people’s right to self-determination and for their free cooperation in view of the higher common good of humanity.’ Peace is founded not only on respect for human rights but also on respect for the rights of peoples, in particular the right to independence. The rights of nations are nothing but ‘human rights fostered at the specific level of community life.’ A nation has a ‘fundamental right to existence,’ to ‘its own language and culture, through which a people expresses and promotes...its fundamental spiritual sovereignty’, to ‘shape its life according to its own traditions, excluding, of course, every abuse of basic human rights and in particular the oppression of minorities,’ to ‘build its future by providing an appropriate education for the younger generation.’ The international order requires a balance between particularity and universality, which all nations are called to bring about, for their primary duty is to live in a posture of peace, respect and solidarity with other nations.”

The first principle of existence is quite easy to understand: a nation cannot be destroyed by any other group, whether directly or indirectly.

The second principle of self-determination refers to the idea that a nation should have a degree of liberty. Just as a man has the right to choose between many particular goods, so also a nation has the same right to self-determination, especially in choosing its own mode of governance (e.g., what form of government, whether to be part of another group or groups in a state, etc.). It is for this reason that, for example, the Church supports a two-state solution for the Palestinians. The Palestinians form a true nation and have a right to self-determination, which in this case includes statehood.

The third principle of sovereignty refers to the right and duty of a nation to express and promote its own unique characteristics (especially language, traditions, and culture) to the benefit of the individuals of the nation. This is the perfection of a nation towards its members.

The fourth principle of the free cooperation in the higher common good refers to the perfection of a nation towards other nations and the international order. Just as an individual has a duty and finds his perfection in his service to his nation, so also the nation has a duty and finds its perfection in its service to the higher common good (especially emphasized by St. John XXIII in Pacem in terris).

The nation that is perfect in its duty develops and preserves its own perfections both collectively and in its members so that it may serve the higher common good of other nations. It is on this point that many of the errors of “false nationalism” arise, in understanding the perfections of the nation in an insular or hostile manner. For example, rather than subjegating and exploiting a barbaric nation, the good nation will draw from its own abundance to communicate the goods of civilization, justice, and economic development to this people.

This is especially expressed in the sending of missionaries from one nation to another, beautifully set forth by Fr. Fahey in his work titled The Kingship of Christ According to the Principles of Saint Thomas Aquinas, where he compares the sending of missionaries to other nations as an exercise of national mortification, governed by charity:

Missionary endeavor I regard as a part of the working of the law of mortification, which is the great law of life for nations as for individuals. We see this law continually operating in ourselves and in others, in the imperious demand of reason that the inferior life of the senses should be subjected to the rational…In the still higher sphere of the supernatural order, we see that the cutting off of even the legitimate pleasures of the natural order is made the condition of the fullness of the life of union with Jesus…

The going forth of missionaries from a nation may be considered to have an action on its higher life analogous to that of the sacrifices of even legitimate pleasures, in the natural order, on the life of the individual. The sons...of a people who go forth for Christ are near and dear to the nation’s heart. They love their country, and at home would be...among its most cherished citizens. But they cut themselves off from their own country in the natural order, with the purpose of implanting the true life of the supernatural in other lands, and their sacrifice will make for the development of supernatural life at home. And if the true life of a nation remains vigorous nothing can overthrow that nation.

The going abroad to build up material civilization on the part of those who are needed at home to build up their own native, national civilization — that is, to build up the body which contains the soul — is a very different process; and if carried on over a long period of time, as has been the case in Ireland, may endanger the survival of the old race in its own land. It is a process similar to the excessive mortification of the body, a practice against which the saints warn us as being one of Satan’s means of preventing good from being accomplished, for it is thus that he impairs the efficiency of one whom he fears.

Under the image of mortification, we are able to properly understand this principle. While it is necessary to deny your lower appetites so as to free your soul for contemplation, it is perfectly possible to so excessively mortify your flesh as to harm your soul. Hence, St. Paul writes: “If any one does not provide for his relatives, and especially for his own family, he has disowned the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.” (1 Tim. 5:8) In a similar way, we can chastise those who wish to provide for the goods of other nations while neglecting the goods of their own nation. This is neither justice nor charity.

True Nationalism and Catholicism

Pius XI gives us the general principle concerning the nation: that “feeling of piety towards our own people…[are] hallowed and strengthened by the right order of Christian charity.” (Caritate Christi Compulsi, n. 4) True nationalism, broadly defined, concerns the “love of natural friendship towards one’s own nation.” (Thomistic Philosophy, n. 1108) This differs very much from forms of “false nationalism” that we will address below. According to the ordinary way in which the Magisterium currently speaks, “false nationalism” is referred to simply as “nationalism,” and “true nationalism” as “patriotism,” as we shall see from St. John Paul II below.

This obligation to “feel piety” towards our own nation is a natural obligation. It is an obligation that falls under the fourth commandment. Yet, as Pius XI states, such a feeling of piety is “hallowed and strengthened by the right order of Christian charity.” Now, we do not simply love our nation for a natural end and with natural virtues, but we love our nation for a supernatural end and with virtues infused by God and directed by supernatural charity. Far from decreasing or destroying the obligations we have towards our people, the Catholic religion binds us to a more intense and pure affection for our people. St. Paul’s affection for his own people was elevated to such a degree that he was able to say: “I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my brethren, my kinsmen by race.” (Rom. 9:3) In the light of Divine Revelation and moved by grace, he was able to understand the profound supernatural vocation of his nation and the noble qualities endowed upon them to fulfil this vocation, feeling anguish at their failure in this. Such a supernatural vocation is not unique to the Hebrew Nation; the call to baptize, teach, and disciple is given by Our Lord to the Church for all nations.

Beside the subjective obligation we have towards our nations, we can look at the objective power of the Gospel on nations. This relies on a principle set forth in so many places in the tradition (especially renewed at the Second Vatican Council) that grace is a force that cleanses and elevates natural realities in order to subordinate them to a supernatural end. Each nation (as each person) has their vices. Catholicism is able to cleanse that nation so as to remove those vices, and the stronger the impact of grace on a nation, the greater the purification from vices. Further, Catholicism is able to elevate and perfect the qualities of the nation. Now, not only does the nation serve the temporal good of the people by inculcating and preserving her noble qualities in them, but the nation also preserves these noble qualities for a higher end. Their nobility becomes a disposition for eternal life. The man firm in the natural virtues of sobriety, justice, diligence, and perseverance is fertile ground for the life of grace. Hence, the nation which inculcates these virtues has an indirectly supernatural end, far more noble than the simple preservation of national distinctives.

On False Nationalism and Globalism

It is important to note that the free cooperation in the higher common good supposes the other principles. A nation cannot freely cooperate in the higher common good unless it is a nation with existence, self-determination, and sovereignty. A nation contributes to the higher common good by preserving and sharing the fruits of its own unique characteristics and perfections, not by destroying or removing these unique characteristics and perfections. It is with this in mind that many of the “anti-nationalism” texts of the Magisterium are properly interpreted — not as denying the existence, rights, duties, or necessity of the nation, but as condemning the corruption of its universal vocation. Hence, many authors will distinguish between a “true” and “false” nationalism.

Some understand nationalism as a denial of the universal vocation of nations or of the universality of human nature. Hence, the goodness and duty of the nation are not framed in a positive light, in service to the universal common good, but in an egotistic and insular manner. To give an analogy: it would be as if some man were to accumulate much wealth and not use it in service of the common good and charitable purposes. This form of nationalism views the end of the nation purely in enriching itself and the individuals of its own nation, rather than viewing its more sublime and divine vocation in the elevation of other nations and of the international order. This fatal error places the nation in a hostile stance towards other nations (including those present in the same state). This “hypernationalism” (which is really a false nationalism) has led to bloodshed and brutality.

Connected to this error is the error of those who assert the principle of nationality. The principle of nationality asserts that it is inherently unjust for there to be any distinction between the nation and the state. This principle of nationality is, of course, quite distinct from the self-determination of peoples, the latter conceding that there can be instances when a nation desires to be united with another nation or group of nations in a single state or confederation.

Others, in their opposition to “nationalism,” slide into the opposite extreme, denying the existence, rights, perfection, necessity, and duties of the nation. Just as nature has intended that the state be serviced and men be formed by families, so also has nature intended that the world be serviced and states formed by nations. Thus, the unique perfections and inherent worth of nations are crushed by a drive to uniformity, and nations are not able to fruitfully develop their own perfections — the very perfections needed to be at the service of other nations.

These opposed errors were set forth with a great degree of clarity by St. John Paul II in his Address to the United Nations, 5 October 1995:

The problem of the full recognition of the rights of peoples and nations has presented itself repeatedly to the conscience of humanity, and has also given rise to considerable ethical and juridical reflection…Today the problem of nationalities forms part of a new world horizon marked by a great “mobility” which has blurred the ethnic and cultural frontiers of the different peoples, as a result of a variety of processes such as migrations, mass-media and the globalization of the economy. And yet, precisely against this horizon of universality we see the powerful re-emergence of a certain ethnic and cultural consciousness, as it were an explosive need for identity and survival, a sort of counterweight to the tendency toward uniformity. This is a phenomenon which must not be underestimated or regarded as a simple left-over of the past. It demands serious interpretation, and a closer examination on the levels of anthropology, ethics and law.

This tension between the particular and the universal can be considered immanent in human beings. By virtue of sharing in the same human nature, people automatically feel that they are members of one great family, as is in fact the case. But as a result of the concrete historical conditioning of this same nature, they are necessarily bound in a more intense way to particular human groups, beginning with the family and going on to the various groups to which they belong and up to the whole of their ethnic and cultural group, which is called, not by accident, a “nation”, from the Latin word “nasci”: “to be born”. This term, enriched with another one, “patria” (fatherland/motherland), evokes the reality of the family. The human condition thus finds itself between these two poles — universality and particularity — with a vital tension between them; an inevitable tension, but singularly fruitful if they are lived in a calm and balanced way.

Upon this anthropological foundation there also rest the “rights of nations”, which are nothing but “human rights” fostered at the specific level of community life. A study of these rights is certainly not easy, if we consider the difficulty of defining the very concept of “nation”, which cannot be identified a priori and necessarily with the State. Such a study must nonetheless be made, if we wish to avoid the errors of the past and ensure a just world order.

A presupposition of a nation’s rights is certainly its right to exist: therefore no one — neither a State nor another nation, nor an international organization — is ever justified in asserting that an individual nation is not worthy of existence. This fundamental right to existence does not necessarily call for sovereignty as a state, since various forms of juridical aggregation between different nations are possible, as for example occurs in Federal States, in Confederations or in States characterized by broad regional autonomies. There can be historical circumstances in which aggregations different from single state sovereignty can even prove advisable, but only on condition that this takes place in a climate of true freedom, guaranteed by the exercise of the self-determination of the peoples concerned. Its right to exist naturally implies that every nation also enjoys the right to its own language and culture, through which a people expresses and promotes that which I would call its fundamental spiritual “sovereignty”. History shows that in extreme circumstances (such as those which occurred in the land where I was born) it is precisely its culture that enables a nation to survive the loss of political and economic independence. Every nation therefore has also the right to shape its life according to its own traditions, excluding, of course, every abuse of basic human rights and in particular the oppression of minorities. Every nation has the right to build its future by providing an appropriate education for the younger generation.

But while the “rights of the nation” express the vital requirements of “particularity”, it is no less important to emphasize the requirements of universality, expressed through a clear awareness of the duties which nations have vis-à-vis other nations and humanity as a whole. Foremost among these duties is certainly that of living in a spirit of peace, respect and solidarity with other nations. Thus the exercise of the rights of nations, balanced by the acknowledgement and the practice of duties, promotes a fruitful “exchange of gifts”, which strengthens the unity of all mankind…

In this context, we need to clarify the essential difference between an unhealthy form of nationalism, which teaches contempt for other nations or cultures, and patriotism, which is a proper love of one’s country. True patriotism never seeks to advance the well-being of one’s own nation at the expense of others. For in the end this would harm one’s own nation as well: doing wrong damages both aggressor and victim. Nationalism, particularly in its most radical forms, is thus the antithesis of true patriotism, and today we must ensure that extreme nationalism does not continue to give rise to new forms of the aberrations of totalitarianism. This is a commitment which also holds true, obviously, in cases where religion itself is made the basis of nationalism, as unfortunately happens in certain manifestations of so-called “fundamentalism”.

Defining the Nation

The aspects detailed above consist of the “easy part” of questions surrounding nationality. The “difficult part” concerns precisely determining the boundaries of nationality. For example, while it is quite easy to see that the English nation and the Italian nation are distinct nations, does the same apply outside of the ancestral homelands of England and Italy? What about the descendants of both nations outside of their ancestral homelands? This has led some to deny altogether any concept of nation that does not involve an a priori identification of the state and nation. Yet, it is important to remember that it does not follow that a reality does not exist simply because its boundaries or particular characteristics are hard to precisely define outside of more general notions. If I were to ask you “is your seventh cousin ‘family’?”, you would easily answer “no.” If I were to ask you “is your first cousin ‘family’?”, you would easily answer “yes.” Yet, what about your second or third cousins? Here, the calculus gets a bit more difficult, yet it is obvious that the idea of “family” denotes a certain reality. The same problem strikes the natural scientist in the so-called “species problem” in determining the taxonomy of the animal kingdom. While it may be difficult to determine the distinction of species in particular cases, or even as a general concept, it is clear that there are distinct species of animals.

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Yet, in Catholic Theology, when we refer to someone as a “laxist” or a “rigorist,” we do not at all mean to impugn their character, or make a judgement about their own diligence in conforming to the moral law. Rather, the terms are meant to indicate how moral judgements are formed. These are known as “moral systems.” “Laxism” and “rigorism” are not meant to indicate an excess of defect in moral effort, they are meant to indicate a speculative error about when and how we can act without sin.

When we are certain about a moral prohibition or command, it is obvious that we are obligated to either omit the act (in the case of a prohibition) or perform the act (in the case of a command). This is quite obvious. Yet, it is also obvious that there are times in which we are not sure about the moral character of an act. In this case, we have a “doubting conscience.” When such a “doubting conscience” occurs about moral prohibition/command, what are we supposed to do?

In the last five centuries, theologians have had much to say about how a doubting conscience can be healed, forming systems such as compensationism, laxism, probabilism, equi-probabilism, probabiliorism, tutorism, etc. Yet, there is a “new laxism” (which can be called “hyperlaxism”) that is quite popular among Catholics today, which attempts to jump the ship altogether by simply denying that such a conscience needs healing. Under their system (if it can be called such), the “doubting conscience” stands for them as an infallible guide, alongside the teaching authority of the Church.

For the new laxists, a conscience can only be rendered practically certain by the teaching authority of the Church. If there is a certain command or prohibition of the Church, then the conscience binds. Otherwise, the conscience is doubtful. With this error in place, they deny the (universally held) premise that it is unlawful to follow a doubting conscience (cf., McHugh and Callan, Moral Theology, n. 640f).

In this way, they surpass the errors of the old laxists. Previously, all moral theologians were in agreement, laxist, rigorist, and everyone in between, that a doubting conscience could not be followed. Hence, there was common ground between all parties involved. Yet, the “new laxism” goes a step further than any of the old laxists, refusing to even grant this ground.

Paradoxically, this new laxism has a darker side that brings it to the side of rigorism. On the one hand, the new laxists follow a doubting conscience. Yet, on the other hand, they believe that a doubting conscience can only be healed by the most rigoristic standards. Many of the new laxists demand that they be shown an infallible determination of the Church in order to render the conscience certain. The conscience cannot be made certain by evident reason, the plain sense of scripture, the authority of the saints, the consensus of moral theologians, or even the non-infallible judgements of the Church. While some will concede one or other of these means (e.g., many will allow for the authority of a pastor), this is only an inconsistency in following to its logical conclusion what is preached by the New Laxists.

The effects of this new laxism are monstrous on the spiritual life. Simultaneously, it begets a conscience that is scrupulous and a conscience that is tepid. The conscience becomes scrupulous insofar as the new laxism advocates for obedience to a doubting conscience. The man becomes tepid insofar as the new laxism casts the obligations of conscience onto few aspects of his life. Beside all this, the man becomes rigid insofar as he imagines the conscience only bound by the strictest laws of rigor. Hence, on the one hand, he cannot imagine that another has been bound in conscience where he has not, unless that man is a rigorist and an extremist, or at least a scrupulant. Yet, on the other hand, anyone who dissents from him is viewed as immoral and lax.

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