I got a lot of that sort of thing -- though
not as much as I expected -- once people heard I was looking
into the Catholic Church. Catholic beliefs were recounted to
me in tones of awe and amusement and with a pale fascination
normally reserved for traffic accidents.
Many Bible-only Christians find the Catholic
perspective on Mary, the mother of our Lord, particularly troublesome.
Frankly, before I even cracked a Catholic book, it made perfect
sense to me. The phrase "Mary, Mother of God" described
just the sort of paradox God seems to enjoy. If we affirm that
a little baby was Almighty God, then we must also affirm, paradoxically,
that a poor Hebrew woman actually gave birth to diety. Strange,
but true.
Similarly, the role of Mary in salvation history
-- which Catholics call "co-redemptive" -- seemed entirely
reasonable. To Bible-only ears, honoring Mary to such a high
degree blatantly infringed upon the absolute uniqueness of Christ.
But, let's face it, when Gabriel came to visit with such astounding
news, Mary could have said "No". Whether out of fear,
or unbelief, or a selfish grasping after her own plans for the
future, she could have disobeyed God. Mary's obedience and suffering
played an important part in so great a salvation.
The question, however, was not whether I "liked"
Catholic doctrine, but whether this truly was the faith handed
down to us, intact, from the apostles. How could I know? Bible-only
Christians would simply ask, "Is it in the Bible?",
implicitly leaving the answer to each individual's reading of
the text. I needed a test for the Catholic claim -- that the
"full deposit of faith" had been preserved in the Catholic
Church via the action of the apostles and their successors.
Meanwhile, friends like Gus found Catholic
doctrine difficult to swallow. One day, during a discussion of
my wandering ways, I remarked that Catholics believe the bread
and wine of the Lord's Supper actually become the body and blood
of the Lord.
"Well, if that's true," Gus replied.
"Could you burp up blood?"
Gus felt he was pointing out a logical inconsistency.
"It's obviously symbolic," he said of John chapter
6. My reading simply showed me Christ's admonitions, "My
blood is real drink and my body is real food" and "Whoever
eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life" and
"I am the bread that comes down from heaven", repeated
over and over again, with no qualifiers attached, until as many
as seventy of his disciples simply got up and left. They were
unable to accept such a strange teaching. The Twelve remained,
not because they had the slightest idea what Jesus was talking
about, but because, as Peter put it, "Where else can we
go? We are convinced you have the words of eternal life."
A little research in actual Catholic theology
revealed that the Eucharist doesn't become dripping flesh and
blood about halfway down one's esophagus. At the words of consecration
(which repeat Christ's words at the Lord's Supper), the appearance
remains the same, but the substance actually becomes the body
and blood, soul and divinity of Christ. In a sense, even
though this ruled out "burping up blood", it actually
upped the ante. Christ's own divine presence? In the Eucharist?
It was outrageous, but the Catholic might well point to the Incarnation
-- was that any easier to swallow? Or how about the indwelling
of the Holy Spirit -- placing the presence of the entire Trinity
somehow in the Christian?
Some look at all this and, simply due to a
feeling of incredulity welling up in their heart, shake their
head in amused disbelief.
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As a convert to Christian belief as a whole,
I could do no such thing. I had already come to
believe in strange, outrageous things. Moving from agnosticism
to Christian belief, I had said, "Yes, I believe that a
carpenter from Nazareth was God in the flesh, that he died for
our sins, rose from the dead, and is now seated at the right
hand of the Father." Had I been held back by questions like
"Oh please, how could I believe such an outrageous idea?",
I might never have become a Christian at all.
Again, "Has apostolic authority kept
the faith?" was the question, and the answer was not some
variety of personal preference or highly individual interpretation
of Scripture. Again, how could one test such a thing?
In the end, I found a good litmus test within
my own Bible-only heritage.
Bible-only Christians have recovered, they
believe, the simple gospel of the early church. This phrase
implies that, because Bible-only beliefs and practices appear
simple and "less cluttered" when compared to Catholicism,
Bible-only Christianity must, therefore, consist of the simple
gospel of the early church -- before Catholic errors started
piling up and making things too complicated.
It occurred to me, however, that simplicity
is relative. Would the debates carried on at a recent Southern
Baptist Convention seem uncluttered and simple? Besides, for
Bible-only Christians, truth is at the top of their priority
list, not the aesthetics of simplicity. If some Catholic belief
turned out to be true, no Bible-only Christian would say, "Sorry.
Not simple enough." Bible-only folks merely assume
all peculiarly Catholic doctrine is "manmade complexity"
stapled to the simple, original gospel around, say, 1973.
And yet, using the early church as a litmus
test of orthodoxy -- given their proximity to the original apostles
-- wasn't such a bad idea. It might be a good test for the Catholic
claims. So what did the early church actually believe? None of
the Bible-only Christians I knew or read had researched the beliefs
of the early church -- even though we claimed them as our own.
How did they interpret the strange teachings of John 6, which
Gus and I had discussed?
From Justin, a defender of the faith writing
approximately 50 years after John's death: "For not as common
bread nor common drink do we receive these, but since Jesus Christ
our Savior was made incarnate by the word of God... so too, as
we have been taught, the food has been made into the Eucharist
by the Eucharistic prayer set down by Him, and by the change
of which our blood and flesh is nourished, is both the flesh
and the blood of that incarnated Jesus... The Apostles, in the
Memoirs which they produced, which are called Gospels, have thus
passed on that which was enjoined upon them..."
Justin actually was clarifying basic Christian
beliefs to the Roman authorities, in the hope of eliminating
persecution based on rumors.
Other early church authors not only back up
Justin's statement, they take it to be obvious. As Ignatius of
Antioch wrote to the church in Smyrna around the year 110, "They
abstain from the Eucharist and from prayer, because they do not
confess that the Eucharist is the flesh of our Savior Jesus Christ,
flesh which suffered for our sins and which the Father, in his
goodness, raised up again."
If it were merely symbolic, I don't think
"they" would have had a problem.
One had to wonder -- what did the early church
have to say about other plainly Catholic teachings? If Justin
or Ignatius were to make a tour of modern Christianity, where
would they feel at home?
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