Tag: Church Teaching

8 min read

Scripture

What We Believe, Part 24: Showing Us How To Love

Father Joshua J. Whitfield

September 26, 2022 12:16 pm September 26, 2022

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8 min read

We have established that Scripture shows us Jesus. But why does that matter? As I have written earlier, the purpose of Scripture is to inspire belief, to reveal God’s justice…

We have established that Scripture shows us Jesus. But why does that matter? As I have written earlier, the purpose of Scripture is to inspire belief, to reveal God’s justice and to call us to holiness in faith. But, as I’ve hinted, there is indeed more. The purpose of Scripture is also love, and before moving on to explore tradition, we should look at this more closely.

To do so, the great spiritual master St. Augustine can help us, and in an interesting way. To think about how we relate to God, he asks us to think of ourselves as exiles, hopelessly lost and lonely for home. “Suppose we were wanderers who could not live in blessedness except at home,” he wrote. Imagine, he said, that “we felt wretched in our wandering, and wishing to put an end to our misery, determined to return home” (“On Christian Doctrine,” No. 1.4.4). That, Augustine said, is what it’s like for humans after the fall. We’re miserably estranged from God and lost. This sets up a simple question: How do we get back?

St. Augustine’s answer was simple. Imagine we’re on the road home, but the road is “blocked, as if by a thorny ledge,” he said. What would be more merciful, then, than for someone to clear the road for us, opening a path? That’s what Jesus did, Augustine said; he forgave our sins, and he himself became the path back home. We’re lost, and Jesus helps us get home. But getting back to God is not a journey involving physical distance or travel; it’s a spiritual and moral journey. This road Augustine is talking about is not a physical road, not a road “from place to place.” Rather, it’s a “road of affections” — that is, a road of loves (“On Christian Doctrine,” No. 1.10.10). Jesus comes to us, Augustine said, lives among us and forgives us. He shows us the way to go and gives us the means to return to God by showing us how to love and live rightly.

Jesus quite simply shows us how to love and how not to love; he shows us through his love what it means to be fully human. And, through his passion (which we’ll talk about later), Jesus gives us the means to imitate him and walk with him back to God, to “our native place.”

Which is what happens when we discover Christ in Scripture — we see Jesus and learn how to love as he loves. That is, the whole purpose of Scripture is the “love of Being” — the love of God and neighbor we discover in Jesus. That’s the purpose of “the whole temporal dispensation,” the point of all truth, all knowledge, and all that’s contained in Scripture: to teach us how to love (“On Christian Doctrine,” No. 1.35.39). That is, in the story of Jesus of Nazareth — in his life, death and resurrection — we see what it means truly to love. Specifically put, we see what it means to give up our will to God’s will as he gave up his will to his Father in Gethsemane. We see what it means to forgive like he forgave. And we see what it means to be holy like his Father is holy. To learn how to love like this is to experience what we call “salvation.” But, of course, Jesus not only shows us how to love, he enables us and gives us the grace to love. (This we’ll talk about later when we talk about the sacraments.)

Given all of that, Scripture is a tutorial in love, yes, but it is also more. To explain what I mean by that, I should say clearly what we’ve only hinted at thus far: that the reading or hearing of Scripture is a mystical experience. Scripture not only shows us who Jesus is, it genuinely introduces us to Jesus. Encountering Scripture is not like reading a novel, a biography, or a textbook. The difference is that Christ comes to you in Scripture through worship or through personal reading. The belief of the Church is that in such moments we encounter not just a historical record but a “living transmission” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, No. 78). We believe that when one genuinely hears Scripture, it’s a moment of a personal encounter.

This belief is ancient. Origen, for example, said that “If the Scriptures are true,” then Jesus speaks “today too, in our congregation … not only in this congregation, but in other gatherings, and in the whole world” (“Homilies on Luke,” No. 32.2). There’s a contemporariness to the Christ we meet in Scripture. Among the earliest Christians, it was understood that Jesus was genuinely present in the community — especially when the Gospel was being announced. Early Christians, for instance, would likely have thought the old evangelical acronym “WWJD?” to be heretical. Never was it a question of what Jesus “would” do as if he wasn’t present. Rather, it was always a question of what Jesus “is” doing. His presence was never doubted. Never was there any sort of wistfulness that longed for the days when Jesus “was” present.

Early Christians knew that Jesus was present in word and sacrament, and that’s what we Catholics still believe: that the “Father’s self-communication made through his Word in the Holy Spirit remains present and active in the Church” (Catechism, No. 79). This, of course, is simply biblical belief in the Jesus who is the same yesterday, today and forever — the Christ whose mind we’re able by grace to make our own (Heb 13:8; Phil 2:5).

But if Christ is present among us today, then why do we need Scripture to discover the real Jesus? Why can’t we just intuit the truth of God? Why can’t we just close our eyes and think of Jesus? Why do we need oral and written communication, all these ancient texts? Why can’t we simply conceive God and commune with him wordlessly?

Again, St. Augustine — who clearly thought a lot about this — helps us think this through. “The scriptures,” he wrote, “employ no manner of speaking that is not in common human usage — they are, after all, speaking to human beings” (“The Trinity,” No. 1.23). The Scripture, he said, makes use of created things like words — “like children’s toys” — to help us learn how to seek what is above created things, “step by step as best we can” (“The Trinity,” No. 1.2).

Anyone who’s read poetry or a love letter understands this. It’s lovely how Augustine thought about it. He didn’t view Scripture merely scientifically or historically or even as mere literature. Rather, he understood that as humans — material and spiritual beings who speak — God lowered himself to speak on our level, with words, images, beauty and flesh, so that we could see the divine in and beyond material things. Angels, being purely immaterial and spiritual, do not need words to commune with God; humans, however, do. We, being material and spiritual creatures, need words and images to encounter God. That’s how God meets us where we are. It’s why ours is a religion of incarnation and Scripture.

The Second Vatican Council summed this up wonderfully: “For the words of God, expressed in human language, have been made like human discourse, just as the word of the eternal Father, when He took to Himself the flesh of human weakness, was in every way made like men” (Dei Verbum, No. 13). In other words, we have Scripture because we’re human; and God knows how to talk to humans — with words we understand.

So, Scripture, in the Christian sense, are the texts of the Old and New Testaments, believed by the Church to be the authentic and living witness of God’s saving work in history. Scripture witnesses to our belief that Jesus is the perfect work of God’s salvation. But it’s more than that. In reading Scripture, we encounter Christ in a mystical way, not merely in a historical report. Although there is indeed historical fact in the Bible, the Christ we encounter in Scripture is not merely a historical construction or even a purely literary construction. Rather, Jesus is mystically present in the event of hearing or reading Scripture itself — a “living transmission.” To put it simply, it’s the Body of Christ speaking.

Father Joshua J. Whitfield is pastor of St. Rita Catholic Community in Dallas and author of “The Crisis of Bad Preaching” (Ave Maria Press, $17.95) and other books. Read more from the series here.

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9 min read

Church Teaching

Introduction To Canon Law

Father James Goodwin

July 8, 2022 9:48 am July 8, 2022

9 min read

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9 min read

Canon law has been in the news quite a bit recently. Normally, canon law isn’t in the spotlight; however, it effects every Catholic whether they know it or not. Some…

Canon law has been in the news quite a bit recently. Normally, canon law isn’t in the spotlight; however, it effects every Catholic whether they know it or not.

Some comments about canon law can be rather negative. Unfortunately, the law is seen by many as being opposed to mercy. This is actually not the case. Justice and mercy are always hand in hand. We need both.

The Purpose of Law

So what is canon law all about? Put simply, canon law is how the Church organizes and governs herself. The word “canon” basically means rule. There are about 1.3 billion Catholics in the world, and the Church administrates a large collection of institutions. Therefore, the Church needs an organizational structure to carry out its office of governance and its saving mission. Every society needs laws — and so does the Church. There is an old saying: ubi societas ibi lex (“where there is a society there is law”). Imagine driving on the highway where there are no rules of the road? It would ultimately lead to disaster.

Canon law deals with all the issues that any legal system does — for example, rights, property issues, procedures, administration, personnel, crimes and trials. It also does some things that civil law cannot, such as laws regarding sacraments, sacred places and magisterial teachings.

The Church’s laws have developed greatly over its 2,000-year history. Beginning in the New Testament, we see that there are procedures for replacing an apostle (see Acts 1:15-26); also, what to do when there are disputes in the Church (Mt 18:15-20). As time went on there were various councils that legislated on issues of concern. Popes would issue decretals to settle disputes or enforce discipline. Courts were established to hear cases and issue decisions. In addition, they used procedures adapted from Roman law.

Eventually, these disparate laws and decretals were collected into what became known as canon law. In 1917, there was a major reform and the law was codified, published as the first Code of Canon Law. After the Second Vatican Council there was a revision, and the 1983 Code of Canon Law was issued for Latin-rite (often referenced as Roman-rite) Catholics by Pope St. John Paul II. Later, in 1990, a separate code was issued for the Eastern Catholic Churches. While not all of the Church’s laws are in the code, it is the place to start.

Since it affects most Catholics in America, let us consider the Roman-rite code. It is organized into seven books. A brief survey of the code will provide a general idea of what it covers.

A Walk Through the Code

There are several Books in the code as follows:

Book I is called General Norms and is the backbone of the code. While it might not seem exciting, it informs the rest of the code, which cannot be understood without it. Book I deals with the various kinds of laws in the Church, how they are issued, who they pertain to, and how they are enforced. There are canons regarding juridic persons — things like your diocese or parish. Also there are canons on the officers who serve the Church. Some of these canons may seem like minor details, but the code is a complex thing. If one part of your car’s engine fails, even if it is just a small screw, it can cause the whole thing to malfunction. It is the same with the Code of Canon Law.

Book II is about the People of God. It sets out the obligations and rights of the lay faithful and clergy. If you want to know what rights you have in the Church, this is the book where you will find them. In addition, it contains the hierarchical constitution of the Church including the Pope, dioceses and religious orders. It shows how they are to be organized and governed.

Book III is on The Teaching Function of the Church. This book covers preaching, catechesis, missions and education. This book tells us what levels of authority there are for Church teachings. It also has rules for educational institutions, including Catholic universities.

Book IV is about The Sanctifying Function of the Church. This pertains to the sacraments. It tells us who can receive them, administer them and what is required for their validity. The section on matrimony is of particular interest since the recent synods on the family. It defines marriage and its valid celebration, and gives the legal reasons why a marriage may be ruled invalid in an annulment process. This book also covers other liturgical acts such as funerals. In addition, it contains regulations for churches, shrines and other places of worship.

Book V covers The Temporal Goods of the Church. This is basically the Church’s property law. It gives regulations on how to properly administer the Church’s property and finances. Also, it includes rules on contracts and wills.

Book VI is on Sanctions in the Church. This is the Church’s criminal law. It sets out the authority the Church has to punish crimes, who can be punished, what crimes may be punished, and what the penalties are for those crimes. It may surprise many people to find this in the Code of Canon Law, but every institution has disciplinary regulations. However, in our law, the goals are to repair scandal, restore justice and reform the offender. So there is more to it than simply punishing crime.

Book VII is about Processes. This book covers trials, their procedures, officers of the court, how to organize courts, the rights of the parties and appeals. Those who watch “Law & Order” on television would find Church trials not nearly as exciting. Normally, cases are handled in a documentary way. Rarely do the parties meet each other in an open court. This may strike us as odd, but, in fact, it is the norm in many judicial systems influenced by Roman law in other parts of the world.

In total, there are 1,752 canons in the code, so to cover them all would require a lengthy commentary. In fact, there are a variety of commentaries and other books that are helpful in understanding canon law.

Canon law includes both divine law and ecclesiastical law. Divine law is unchangeable and is applicable to every human being — for example, the law against murder. Ecclesiastical law is rooted in Church law and is not infallible, although it is authoritative — for example, the laws regarding fast and abstinence. Our system of law is human and not perfect.

Justice and Mercy

As mentioned earlier, often in our minds we think of law and mercy as being opposed. Even some priests do not see the law as being “pastoral.” However, the law is about order and justice. These are necessary if there is to be mercy.

Justice is defined as giving and receiving one’s due. If we are wronged, we desire justice. If someone hits your car in the parking lot, you will want their insurance to pay for the accident. Justice involves moral obligations and responsibilities.

The law is concerned with the common good. Of course, there are disputes about what the common good is, and that is where the law comes in, to settle the issue fairly. The Church is concerned with spiritual realities, but these are lived out in the material world. We are not divorced from this world. This is where we must live out the demands of the Gospel. These include justice for the poor, oppressed and others who cannot defend their own rights. Therefore, mercy, in fact, includes justice rather than opposing it.

For us to show mercy to others means ensuring that their rights are respected and upheld. It also means that they have the right to the true teachings of the Church, that the sacraments will be validly administered, that the finances will be handled properly, that those who injure others will be restrained and punished and that everyone will receive the due process of law. All of these things are part of our canon law. They are concrete ways in which mercy is accomplished in the Church.

In the bull of indiction by which he opened the Jubilee of Mercy, Misericordiae Vultus, Pope Francis said: “It would not be out of place at this point to recall the relationship between justice and mercy. These are not two contradictory realities, but two dimensions of a single reality that unfolds progressively until it culminates in the fullness of love” (No. 20). He added, a little bit later: “Mercy is not opposed to justice but rather expresses God’s way of reaching out to the sinner, offering him a new chance to look at himself, convert and believe.… God’s justice is His mercy given to everyone as a grace that flows from the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Thus the Cross of Christ is God’s judgment on all of us and on the whole world, because through it He offers us the certitude of love and new life” (No. 21). Pope Francis points out that Jesus Christ is to be at the center of all that canon law aims to accomplish.

Ultimately, canon law is at the service of the Church. It exists to assist the Church in its mission to proclaim the good news of Jesus Christ to the world. The last canon in the code states clearly that the purpose of the law — indeed, the highest law — is the salvation of souls. That makes canon law a true work of mercy.

The Very Rev. James Goodwin, J.C.L., is a graduate of The Catholic University of America and judicial vicar of the Diocese of Fargo, North Dakota.

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4 min read

Church Teaching

Introduction to Ecclesiology

Father Harrison Ayre

July 2, 2022 7:00 am July 2, 2022

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4 min read

One of the more contemporary fields of theological study in the last century has been the discipline of ecclesiology, which studies the Church. This is a vital area of study…

One of the more contemporary fields of theological study in the last century has been the discipline of ecclesiology, which studies the Church. This is a vital area of study because if Jesus intended to found a Church, then we must look to revelation to understand what this Church looks like and what Christ intended.

Ecclesiology, therefore, begins with the basic question: Did Jesus intend to found a Church? The New Testament, as well as early Church history, makes this abundantly clear, and it is relatively well-accepted among both Protestants, Catholics (and other Christians, like the Orthodox, for that matter) that Jesus did, in fact, establish a Church as a body of believers called to gather around his teachings and live them out as a manifestation of the Kingdom of God.

That is where Protestants and Catholics agree. But what the Church looks like — i.e. her external features — is where major disagreement begins. For Catholics, there are essentially two aspects that are necessary for a Church to be a Church. First, it must have a hierarchical structure, centered upon the bishops and pope; second, it must have the sacraments. These are the two essential features for an ecclesial structure to be called a Church.

The hierarchical structure is vital to the Church because without the bishops, there is no Church. The bishop of each diocese is the symbol of unity in his local diocese. Communion among the bishops comes from unity with the pope, as the one who holds the Church’s unity together in communion. The pope is the guarantee that we are all part of the same Church that Christ instituted. The bishops, then, exist as ministers of the Church’s unity. Through them we have apostolic succession, which means that their office is traced back all the way back to Jesus’ apostles. As presiders over the Church’s unity, the bishops oversee things such as the sacraments, which are at the core of the Church’s life. Without the bishops, there are no sacraments, and without both, there is no Church.

The Church’s hierarchy exists to facilitate the unity of the Church, which exists as a communion.This is to say that each member exists and lives for all the other members of the Church. Each of us has a mission in the life of the Church, called to be in service to one another. Episcopal leadership being solely defined by power has no place, since the power attached to the bishop’s office is only given to achieve and guarantee the Church’s unity.

There are other aspects of ecclesiology equally vital: What does it mean to say the Church is “one, holy, catholic,” too? How do we understand, for example, that the Church is holy when sinful at the same time? The Church’s holiness is possible only because her head, Jesus Christ, our Lord, is holy, and we are the members of his body. As sinners, clergy and laity can become holy through Christ alone.

The Church is first and foremost a sacrament — that is, a visible sign that makes effective and visible the invisible reality she signifies. The mission of the whole Church is a mission for the life of the whole world. All those who are baptized into Christ are to make Christ’s salvation not only visible but effective to all the world. This is because the Church is inherently missionary by nature, an idea reiterated time and again by Pope St. Paul VI. It is the task of every single Catholic, then, to be cooperators with Christ’s saving mission, through word and deed. The whole of our lives are to be defined by Christ. That means Christianity cannot be simply a hobby — an addition to one’s life — but a whole way of being. Because the Church is a sacrament, her members – always and everywhere — have the opportunity to be a sign by which the saving actions of Jesus are made effective in the lives of others.

Father Harrison Ayre is a priest of the Diocese of Victoria, British Columbia. Follow him on Twitter at @FrHarrison. Read more in the “Introduction to Theology” series here.

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4 min read

Church Teaching

What is theology?

Father Harrison Ayre

April 28, 2022 7:40 am April 28, 2022

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4 min read

This is the first in a seven-part “Introduction to Theology” series from Simply Catholic. Read the entire series here. Often people look at theology as an academic discipline in which…

This is the first in a seven-part “Introduction to Theology” series from Simply Catholic. Read the entire series here.

Often people look at theology as an academic discipline in which people talk about subtle nuances that have little to do with Christian living. Then there are those outside of Christianity who question it as a discipline at all because faith, in the eyes of many, is unreasonable.

But theology is a proper field of study, and one with an ancient tradition. Scripture itself is not only a source of revelation but is a type of theological work. And St. John Henry Newman, in his “The Idea of a University,” presents theology as the hub of all the sciences, because God is at the center of all creation.

What, then, is theology?

Theology is rooted in two Greek words: Theos, meaning God, and logos, meaning reason. Theology is using our reason to study and know more about God and how he has shown himself to the world. There is a discipline known as “natural theology,” whereby we are able to study certain truths about God, including the fact that he has created the world and the fact that God exists. As St. Paul makes clear that God’s existence is revealed through his creation, the truth of natural theology is knowable by reason alone. “Christian theology” is when we use our reason to study and know more about God and how he has shown himself to the world. The object of study is God and his revelation, including how he had revealed himself to Israel and in the definitive revelation in his Son, Jesus Christ, which is especially manifested in Scripture and Tradition. Theology often goes further than this by applying what we know about revelation to new topics and social phenomena. In short, because God touches every facet of our existence, theology deals with the whole of life.

Theology, then, is not a discipline reserved to academics, though the academic realm is absolutely vital to theological knowledge and development. Instead, Jesus redeemed the whole of man, including our brains. In return, he desires that we use them. More importantly, by growing in our knowledge about the Faith through theological study, we grow in love for Jesus Christ. If we love him, we want to know everything we can about him, because love wants to know. By studying and reflecting with our mind on the content of faith, we also fulfill St. Peter’s command: “Always be prepared to give a reason for the hope that is within you” (1 Pet 3:15).

As theology attempts to understand God, it must avoid two equally dangerous extremes: rationalism and fideism. Rationalism says we can know everything by reason alone and do not need revelation or faith to know about God. Fideism says that we do not need to learn and grow in our knowledge of God — rather, that it is just enough to believe. According to the Church’s tradition, both of these approaches are heresies.

Theology makes clear how we need the grace of faith in order to enlighten our minds so that we can come to know God more deeply. In fact, it is by the gift of faith, given through baptism, that we gain access to the very life of God. We can know some basic things about God: that he exists, that he is one, infinite, omnipotent, etc. But to know that God is Trinity is something reason cannot reach on its own. In order for reason to be open to this mystery, it needs the aid of faith and revelation.

Theology, then, is really an exercise of faith and reason at the same time. As such, we can see how we must be open to God and his revelation and receive what he has revealed in humility so that God can be heard. By hearing God speak, we then take time, like Mary, to ponder these things in our hearts so that we may be able to understand the meaning and substance of the words and events of salvation history, Scripture, Tradition and revelation. This is an act of theologizing. And this rational reflection — of asking questions, of wanting to probe the mysteries of faith — is by no means a worthless exercise. It is, in fact, the highest and most important thing we can do, because it is an act of contemplation that builds up our communion with God and with one other.

Father Harrison Ayre is a priest of the Diocese of Victoria, British Columbia. Follow him on Twitter at @FrHarrison.

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7 min read

Church Teaching

What are Indulgences?

Edward Peters

March 3, 2022 7:05 am March 3, 2022

7 min read

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7 min read

Indulgences are making a welcome reappearance in the spiritual life of Catholics. After centuries of slow decline in their use, punctuated by decades of almost complete neglect after the Second…

Indulgences are making a welcome reappearance in the spiritual life of Catholics. After centuries of slow decline in their use, punctuated by decades of almost complete neglect after the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965), the power of indulgences to enliven a sense of charity and to sharpen a healthy sorrow for sin is finally being rediscovered.

Three popes have led the way.

In 1968, Pope Paul VI (1962-1978) laid the foundations for this renewal by simplifying the rules on indulgences and redrafting the list of designated works and prayers. The pope’s aim was to help Catholics see indulgences not as some sort of special projects to be performed apart from their daily life, but rather as ways to foster charity and a sense of repentance throughout an ordinary day.

Pope Paul’s reorganization of indulgences left in place some of the older and more ambitious forms of indulgences, such as pilgrimages to shrines and participation in Eucharistic Congresses. But he also made it possible to share more deeply in the Church’s “treasury of merit” by doing simple things such as bearing patiently the inconveniences of daily life in reparation for sin.

Pope Paul reminded us that, because God works through the little things in our lives as well as the great, something as trivial as being stuck in rush-hour traffic can become an opportunity to move closer to God if we offer it up for love of Him.

During his pontificate, Pope John Paul II (1978-2005) oversaw two revisions of the “Enchiridion of Indulgences” and frequently extended indulgences to Catholics participating in special events in their local area.

In 1991 the Polish pope recognized the Akathist hymn of Eastern Catholics as an indulgenced prayer on par with the Marian Rosary prayed by Roman Catholics. Then, in 1998 he withstood strong criticism from some Protestant leaders when he announced that participation in millennial celebrations of the Catholic Church would be enriched by a plenary indulgence.

Finally, Pope Benedict XVI made several references to indulgences in his informal addresses. He granted a plenary indulgence to those participating in person or in spirit in the celebration of the 150th anniversary of the Marian apparitions at Lourdes.

There seems, in short, little doubt that today indulgences are emerging from the pall under which they have labored since the Protestant reformer Martin Luther repudiated them early in the 16th century. As a better understanding of indulgences spreads among Catholics and other Christians, they seem set once again to contribute to the welfare of the whole Church.

An Ancient Practice

We can say “once again” because indulgences are, in fact, quite an ancient part of Christian life. The actual word “indulgence” was first used in its modern sense in the 11th century, when they were offered as a spiritual reward for soldiers volunteering to join the efforts to free the Holy Land from Muslim invaders. But the actual practice of indulgences, if not the name, can be traced back much earlier in Church history, indeed, back to the times of the ancient Roman persecutions.

In those dark days, a practice grew up in which Christians suffering in prisons for the faith would sometimes send a letter to a bishop on behalf of a given penitent. The letter would ask the bishop, in recognition of the willingly accepted tribulations of the letter writer, to lighten the penance of a confessed and sorrowful sinner.

These requests, known as libelli pacis, were a beautiful example of the faithful putting into practice one of St. Paul’s most famous admonitions: to share one another’s burdens (see Gal 6:2).

The context in which such letters were written and rewarded underscored the close connection the Church has always sensed between the sacrament of confession and indulgences. To this day, both the Catechism of the Catholic Church (Nos. 1471-1479) and the Code of Canon Law (Canons 992-997) explain indulgences immediately in the context of the Sacrament of Confession.

It’s ironic, then, that because the practice of sacramental confession evolved over the centuries, while the theology of indulgences was lagging, the disconnection between penances for sins and indulgences grew over time to the point where confusion set in. Here’s one example.

“Seven Years Indulgence”?

Older Catholics likely recall when the description of each indulgence in the Raccolta (forerunner of today’s Enchiridion) was followed by a specific indication of time, for example, “300 days indulgence” or “seven years indulgence.”

The problem was (and Pope Paul VI saw this) that no one could say for sure what those time periods meant. All sorts of theories grew up about them, but most folks guessed that the time period of an indulgence must indicate time off from purgatory.

This was not an unreasonable guess. If nothing else, it honored the real connection between indulgences and reparation for sin.

But it assumed much more detail about how purgatory works than the Church has ever declared. (Purgatory is probably not an experience in time, but even if it were somehow associated with time, we don’t know how time might be measured in the next life.)

The suggestion, then, that a given indulgence might free one from, say, 300 days in purgatory was never correct.

As it happened, the time designations associated with indulgences were originally based on the lengthy periods of penance that were imposed after sacramental confession many centuries ago. But as those very long penances disappeared, the reckoning of indulgences as some sort of equivalents to what would have been offered up during such lengthy penances made less and less sense, and, eventually, the connections were lost.

Today, indulgences are grouped into only two types, partial and plenary. The category depends on whether the indulgence in question applies to some or all of the punishment a given member of the faithful owes for sin.

Other Misconceptions

While the connection between indulgences and post-sacramental penances no longer applies, the fact that indulgences apply only to the punishment for sin, and not to the forgiveness of sin itself, should not be overlooked.

Indulgences are not, and never have been, ways to seek forgiveness for sins. Much less are they ways to get “permission” to sin in advance! The Church has never taught anything so ridiculous.

To tell the truth, however, some of the popular explanations of indulgences lent themselves to just these sorts of misunderstandings. By the late Middle Ages, the stage was set for indulgences themselves to be attacked by the Protestant reformers because of some faulty explanations of what they really were.

Today, however, the Church’s constant teaching should be clear: Indulgences can be applied only to the punishment that is due for sins already forgiven, either in sacramental confession (in the case of mortal or venial sins) or by personal expressions of sorrow (in the case of venial sins only).

Further study of the Church’s carefully developed doctrine on indulgences can be rewarding and should be encouraged. But we shouldn’t leave the impression that only those with a thorough understanding of indulgences can make use of them.

Any Christian who, in a spirit of penitence for sins, asks God for the deeper share in the infinite merits of Jesus Christ that indulgences offer can use them to move ever closer to God — who wants nothing else than for us to be happy with Him forever.

Edward N. Peters, J.C.D., holds the Edmund Cardinal Szoka Chair at Sacred Heart Major Seminary, in Detroit, Mich. His book, “A Practical Guide to Indulgences,” is available from Liturgy Training Publications; call 800-933-1800.

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6 min read

Scripture

What We Believe, Part 18: The Church in the Spirit

Father Joshua J. Whitfield

February 21, 2022 11:47 pm February 21, 2022

6 min read

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6 min read

The Church is a sacrament because it is in Christ. But also because it is in the Spirit. As we saw earlier, Lumen Gentium wastes no time describing the theological…

The Church is a sacrament because it is in Christ. But also because it is in the Spirit. As we saw earlier, Lumen Gentium wastes no time describing the theological nature of the Church, that it is in Christ like a sacrament, a sign and instrument. However, there’s more to be said.

To be in Christ, as we’ve seen, is to belong to God’s saving work, to belong to the history of salvation, so to speak. And it’s by that history — as told in Scripture and rehearsed in Lumen Gentium — that we are able to describe further the theological reality of our own experience as believers, the reality of the Holy Spirit dwelling within us.

Lumen Gentium puts it this way: “When the work which the Father gave the Son to do on earth was accomplished, the Holy Spirit was sent on the day of Pentecost in order that He might continually sanctify the Church, and thus, all those who believe would have access through Christ in one Spirit to the Father. He is the Spirit of Life, a fountain of water springing up to life eternal. To men, dead in sin, the Father gives life through Him, until, in Christ, He brings to life their mortal bodies” (LG 4). This, of course, is simply a rehearsal of Scripture, echoing the story of Pentecost (Acts 2:1-3), Jesus’s teaching in the John’s Gospel (Jn 4:14; 7:37-38), and Pauline teaching (Eph 2:18; Rom 8:10-11).

What’s remarkable, however, is Lumen Gentium’s claim that this rehearsed biblical story remains ongoing in us, in the Church. The Spirit given at Pentecost still dwells within in us, “continually” sanctifying the Church. That is, the Holy Spirit knows no ascension. And thus, as Lumen Gentium continues, “The Spirit dwells in the Church and in the hearts of the faithful, as in a temple.” And what the Spirit does is guide the Church (as Jesus said in Jn 16:13) in “the way of all truth,” continually restoring the Church in the “freshness of youth,” drawing the Church ever nearer its Spouse, the risen Bridegroom Jesus Christ (LG 4). The Spirit keeps the Church oriented toward its final heavenly goal, the heavenly Jerusalem; the Spirit keeps the Church aflame with desire for its final union, expressed in the final prayer of the New Testament — “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!” (Rev 22:20).

But notice how the Spirit accomplishes this renewing, orienting work in the Church — “in communion and in works of ministry.” Lumen Gentium teaches that the Spirit “equips and directs” the Church with “hierarchical and charismatic gifts,” which he adorns with his “fruits” (LG 4). That is, we believe that the Spirit enlivens the Church both in its visible structures and ministries as well as in the hearts of all believers being sanctified. We believe the Holy Spirit is given assuredly and always to the Church’s hierarchical structure, to its clergy — bishops, priests and deacons. We believe, therefore, that our polity, our clerical structure, is divinely given. This will be explored further when considering the sacrament of Holy Orders and the papacy; suffice it to say at this point, though, that this is a fundamental claim — that the Church’s hierarchical structure of bishops, priests and deacons, a structure that belongs essentially to the mission of God and to the organic nature of the Church, cannot replaced. This claim is distinctly Catholic, shared though by the Orthodox Churches and even some Protestant traditions. This is why in Catholicism you’ll never see things like “executive pastors” or any other different forms of ecclesiastical organization, no matter how more efficient those different structures may be. It’s also why arguments surrounding leadership and hierarchy in Catholicism get so theological so quickly. Because we believe that even the visible structures of the Church belong to its nature as sacrament, enlivened by the Holy Spirit “continually.”

But, of course, one mustn’t think the Holy Spirit dwells among and enlivens only the hierarchy of the Church. Even though that may sometimes seem to be the case, it never is; about that, the Church’s teaching has always been clear. Charismatic gifts belong to whomever the Spirit wills, to all the holy. The presence of the Spirit in the Church — present not just in the hierarchy but in all the saints — guarantees God’s sovereignty over the Church. The Holy Spirit dwells in all God’s people, not just clergy. In the faithful nun or monk. In the faithful parent. In the old lady, warrior at prayer, praying her rosary before Mass, who scares you a little. And it’s that spiritual fact — the fact of Pentecost — that makes for the joy and suffering, the tension, conflict and creativity of the Church. It’s what makes the Church so beautiful and sometimes so strange, giving the Church “the freshness of youth.” It’s also why one shouldn’t put too much store in polls or surveys suggesting the demise of the Church; such headlines make the rounds from time to time as if on schedule. Important though they may be, of course, they are no cause for despair. And that’s because the Holy Spirit remains — always has and always will — sustaining the Church “uninterruptedly” (LG 4).

And finally, it helps to recall for what purpose we believers live in the Church in Christ in the Spirit — so that we may be formed individually and together into Christ, “redeemed” and “re-molded into a new creation,” Lumen Gentium teaches, echoing St. Paul (LG 7; 2 Cor 5:17). That’s what the Holy Spirit, continually dwelling in the Church, does: he builds up the body of Christ, in the unity of faith and in knowledge of the Son, into the full stature of Christ (Eph 4:12-13). This is nothing other than the mission for glory for which Jesus prayed in John 17; it’s just now we see more clearly how this mission for glory is also the Church and its mission — calling in Christ by the Spirit all believers, sisters and brothers “together from all nations, mystically the components of His own Body” (LG 7). This thing we call the Catholic Church of Jesus Christ.

Father Joshua J. Whitfield is pastor of St. Rita Catholic Community in Dallas and author of “The Crisis of Bad Preaching” (Ave Maria Press, $17.95) and other books. Read more from the series here.

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