The Early Church and Civil Government

Reading N°7 in the History of the Catholic Church

by

Fr. Fernand Mourret, S.S.

Though separated from the Jewish and the pagan world by their hierarchy, beliefs and rites, the disciples of Christ had no wish to adopt an attitude of rebellion or sullenness in the society in which they lived. St. Paul, in his Second Epistle to the Corinthians, writes: "They, are Hebrews; so am I. They are Israelites; so am I."^[1] And when the tribune of Rome asked him, "Art thou a Roman?" he proudly answered: "Yea."^[2] "Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar's,"^[3] Christ had said; the Apostle adds: "Let every soul be subject to higher powers; for there is no power but from God."^[4]

The temporal powers with which the infant Church came in contact were the leaders of the Jewish nation and the Roman emperors. Forty years before the Christian era, the title king of Judea became the prerogative of the family of the Herods, who, thanks to the backing of the Romans, supplanted the Machabees. The scepter was gone forth from Juda; a stranger reigned in the promised land. No doubt the policy of the Herods tended to constitute an independent realm, its unity assured by Judaism; but, to accomplish this purpose, they needed the protection of Rome; hence their equivocal attitude. The summary appointment and removal of high priests, which they subordinated to the varying needs of their political calculations, lowered the standing of the priesthood, and their deference to the Roman authorities favored the introduction of pagan customs into Palestine.^[5]

The early Christians took a clear and frank attitude toward the government and the laws; they celebrated the national feasts and holidays,^[6] taking part in the Temple worship and the synagogue devotions,^[7] and carefully avoiding every legal defilement.^[8] They obeyed all the laws, whether fiscal or otherwise, and, save for disputes arising among themselves -which they reserved to the judgment of their community - they carried their cases to the regular civil tribunals. This strict loyalty won the people's esteem and admiration.^[9]

Rome's protectorate in Palestine was not clearly defined. It was represented at Jerusalem by a procurator, who reserved to himself the ius gladii,or the judgment of important matters. But he rarely exercised this supreme right, and often, like Pilate, followed the policy of non-intervention, being disinclined to place his power at the service of the local parties and priestly grudges. 

The Christians' attitude toward the imperial laws and authorities was as loyal as it was toward the Jewish authorities. They paid the taxes levied for the Roman metropolis; they obeyed their masters, if they were slaves;^[10] if they were Roman citizens, they did not hesitate to exercise their right to appeal their case to the tribunal of Rome.^[11]

But the authorities, Jewish as well as Roman, soon manifested their hostility against the Christians. The Romans, according to their custom, showed themselves more cautious on Palestinian territory; but the ill-restrained hatred of the priestly caste, who had put Jesus to death, quickly burst forth against His disciples.

Caiphas and Annas

The Sadducean family of the high priest, which brought about the condemnation of Christ, was still in power. Up to the year 36, the office of high priest really belonged to Caiphas, who left its exercise to his brother-in-law Annas and his relatives Alexander and John.^[12] These ambitious and heartless schemers were ill-pleased to see the continued growth of a community invoking the name of one whom they had crucified. The very fact that the disciples of Jesus had won the favor of the populace made the Christians even more suspect in the eyes of the authorities. While it is true that many, at sight of the Christian practice of charity, said: "See how they love one another," others (as the Acts of the Apostles insinuates) were seized with a sort of terror at seeing the miracles which they performed.^[13] The disciples of Christ did indeed frequent the synagogues and go up to the Temple; but they also held meetings of their own in private houses, and there created centers of religious activity independent of the sacerdotal authority. Thus especially reasoned the Sadducees, who cherished the most persistent hatred for Christ and who were exasperated by the preaching of the resurrection of the flesh. A number of Herodians and Pharisees were won over by the same bitterness and apprehension. The arrest of the Apostles, the stoning of St. Stephen, the beheading of St. James and the imprisonment of St. Peter were the sequels of this sinister coalition.

The Acts thus relates the arrest of the Apostles: 

The high priest rising up, and all they that were with him (which is the heresy of the Sadducees) were filled with envy. And they laid hands on the Apostles and put them in the common prison. But an angel of the Lord by night opening the doors of the prison, and leading them out, said: "Go, and standing speak in the Temple to the people all the words of this life." Who having heard this, early in the morning entered into the Temple, and taught. And the high priest coming, and they that were with him, called together the council and all the ancients of the children of Israel; and they sent to the prison to have them brought. [...] But one came and told them: "Behold, the men whom you put in prison are in the Temple, standing and teaching the people." Then went the officer with the ministers, and brought them without violence; for they feared the people, lest they should be stoned. [...] And the high priest asked them, saying: "Commanding, we commanded you, that you should not teach in this name; and behold, you have filled Jerusalem with your doctrine. And you have a mind to bring the blood of this man upon us." But Peter and the Apostles answering, said: '"We ought to obey God rather than men." [...] When they had heard these things, they were cut to the heart, and they thought to put them to death. But one in the council rising up, a Pharisee, named Gamaliel, a doctor of the law, respected by all the people, commanded the men to be put forth a little while. [...] And he said to them: "Ye men of Israel, take heed to yourselves what you intend to do as touching these men. [...] For if this council or this work be of men, it will come to naught; but if it be of God, you cannot overthrow it, lest perhaps you be found even to fight against God." And they consented to him. And calling in the Apostles, after they had scourged them, they charged them that they should not speak at all in the name of Jesus; and they dismissed them. And they indeed went from the presence of the council, rejoicing that they were accounted worthy to suffer reproach for the name of Jesus. And every day they ceased not in the Temple and from house to house, to teach and preach Christ Jesus.^[14]

These events took place toward the end of the year 32. "The Sanhedrin evidently assumed the right to condemn the accused to be flogged; it seems that they wished to bring a capital charge against the Apostles. Subsequently, St. Stephen was put to death without any protest from the Roman authorities, and Saul was sent on a mission with letters patent from the Sanhedrin. All these facts show that Tiberius, already ill and completely addicted to the shameful passions of a lustful old man and hateful tyrant, had permitted the prevalence at a distance of a more liberal policy with regard to the provinces subject to the Empire. Pilate was still at Jerusalem; but he was preoccupied with the agitation that was beginning to brew in Samaria, a disturbance that he soon after stifled in blood by horrible massacres."^[15]

Profiting by this political tranquility, the religious activity of the Christian community took on a new enthusiasm. The twelve Apostles, overburdened by the works of charity which the growing number of the faithful rendered more and more absorbing, "calling together the multitude of the disciples," asked them to designate assistants "full of the Holy Ghost and wisdom," who would be able to act in their place. The entire assembly accepted this proposal. Seven helpers were chosen, at their head Stephen, "a man full of faith and of the Holy Ghost."^[16] This was the institution of a new order of ministers, the diaconate.

If the passage where the Acts of the Apostles speaks of the institution of the diaconate is compared with other passages of the holy books where it is mentioned, notably the Epistles of St. Paul, it would seem that there is question, not of a transitory ministry established by a purely human will, but of a higher institution possessing a definitive character and prompted by the Holy Ghost. The great importance which the Apostles attached to the choice of the first seven deacons, their evident concern to indicate the conditions to be fulfilled by those chosen, the solemnity with which they surrounded the new institution, the enumeration of the rare qualities which St. Paul required of deacons, and the close association between them and the bishops, is to be explained only by this lofty idea of the diaconate. Even from a purely historical point of view, everything leads us to believe that the Apostles, by imposing hands on the newly chosen, were conferring on them a sacramental grace that would aid them to fulfill their important duties worthily.^[17]

Scripture mentions three of these duties: the "serving of tables,"^[18] that is, the daily distribution to the poor, especially the widows, of food supplied by the resources of the rich, the administration of Baptism,^[19] and preaching.^[20]

Scenes from the Life of St. Stephen
Chapel of Nicholas V, Rome

In this last duty, no one acquitted himself more brilliantly and zealously than the deacon Stephen. His ministry was exercised particularly among the Hellenist Jews, to whom the Apostles probably had less ready access. The power of his word^[21] and the gift of miracles which accompanied it,^[22] brought him great success with the populace, who gathered about him. His enemies began to dispute with him, but "they were not able to resist the wisdom and the Spirit that spoke" through him.^[23]

Then they suborned men to say they had heard him speak words of blasphemy against Moses and against God. And they stirred up the people and the ancients and the scribes; and running together, they took him and brought him to the council. And they set up false witnesses, who said: "This man ceaseth not to speak words against the holy place and the law. For we have heard him say that this Jesus of Nazareth shall destroy this place, and shall change the traditions which Moses delivered unto us." And all that sat in the council, looking on him, saw his face as if it had been the face of an angel. Then the high priest said: "Are these things so?" [...] Stephen said: "You stiff-necked and uncircumcised in heart and ears, you always resist the Holy Ghost: as your fathers did, so do you also. Which of the prophets have not your fathers persecuted? And they have slain them who foretold of the coming of the Just One; of whom you have been now the betrayers and murderers: who have received the law by the disposition of angels, and have not kept it." Now hearing these things, they were cut to the heart, and they gnashed with their teeth at him. But he, being full of the Holy Ghost, looking up steadfastly to heaven, saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing on the right hand of God. And he said: "Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of man standing on the right hand of God." And they, crying out with a loud voice, stopped their ears, and with one accord ran violently upon him. And casting him forth without the city, they stoned him. And the witnesses laid down their garments at the feet of a young man, whose name was Saul. And they stoned Stephen, invoking, and saying: "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit." And falling on his knees, he cried with a loud voice, saying: "Lord, lay not this sin to their charge." And when he had said this, he fell asleep in the Lord.^[24]

Thus died the first Christian martyr. Like his Master, with his last breath he delivered his soul into the hands of the heavenly Father and prayed for his executioners.

The Stoning of St. Stephen
Pietro da Cortona (1596-1669)

Footnotes

[1] Cf. 2 Cor. 11:22.

[2] Acts 22:25-28.

[3] Matt. 22:21.

[4] Rom. 13:1.

[5] On the political organization of Palestine at this period, see Beurlier, Le Monde juif à l'époque de Jésus-Christ, and Mommsen, History of Rome, IV, I58.

[6] Acts 2:1; 18:18; 20:6; Rom. 14:5.

[7] Acts 2:46; 3:1; 5:42; 10:9.

[8] Acts 10:14.

[9] Acts 5:13.

[10] Cf. 1 Cor. 7:21.

[11] Acts 22:25-28; 25:11 f.

[12] Acts 4:6.

[13] Acts 2:43.

[14] Acts 5:17-42.

[15] Le Camus, L'Œuvre des apôtres, I, 97.

[16] Acts 6:1-6.

[17] The Council of Trent (Sess. 23, canon 6) declares that the diaconate is of divine institution: Si quis dixerit in Ecclesia catholica non esse hierarchiam divina ordinatione institutam, quae constat in episcopis, presbyteris, et ministris, anathema sit.

[18] Acts 6:2.

[19] Acts 8:38.

[20] Acts 7:2-53.

[21] Acts 6:10.

[22] Acts 6:8.

[23] Acts 6:10.

[24] Acts 6:11-7:59.

***

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Conscience

Third in a Series on Catholic Morals

by

Fr. John H. Stapleton

Angel of Justice
Guariento di Arpo (1310-1370)

The will of God, announced to the world at large, is known as the Law of God; manifested to each individual soul, it is called conscience. These are not two different rules of morality, but one and the same rule. The latter is a form or copy of the former. One is the will of God, the other is its echo in our souls.

We might fancy God, at the beginning of all things, speaking His will concerning right and wrong in the presence of the myriads of souls that lay in the state of possibility. And when, in the course of time, these souls come into being, with unfailing regularity, at every act, conscience, like a spiritual phonograph, gives back His accents and reechoes: "it is lawful," or "it is not lawful." Or, to use another simile, conscience is the compass by which we steer aright our moral lives towards the haven of our souls' destination in eternity. But just as behind the mariner's compass is the great unseen power, called attraction, under whose influence the needle points to the star; so does the will or Law of God control the action of the conscience, and direct it faithfully towards what is good.

We have seen that, in order to prevaricate, it is not sufficient to transgress the Law of God: we must know. Conscience makes us know. It is only when we go counter to its dictates that we are constituted evil-doers. And, at the bar of God's justice, it is on the testimony of conscience that sentence will be passed. Her voice will be that of a witness present at every deed, good or evil, of our lives.

Conscience should always tell the truth, and tell it with certainty. Practically, this is not always the case. We are sometimes certain that a thing is right when it is really wrong. There are therefore two kinds of conscience: a true and a certain conscience, and they are far from being one and the same thing. A true conscience speaks the truth, that is, tells us what is truly right and truly wrong. It is a genuine echo of the voice of God. A certain conscience, whether it speaks the truth or not, speaks with assurance, without a suspicion of error, and its voice carries conviction. When we act in accordance with the first, we are right; we may know it, doubt it or think it probable, but we are right in fact. When we obey the latter, we know, we are sure that we are right, but it is possible that we be in error. A true conscience, therefore, may be certain or uncertain; a certain conscience may be true or erroneous.

A true conscience is not the rule of morality. It must be certain. It is not necessary that it be true, although this is always to be desired and, in the normal state of things, should be the case. But true or false, it must be certain. The reason is obvious. God judges us according as we do good or evil. Our merit or demerit is dependent upon our responsibility. We are responsible only for the good or evil we know we do. Knowledge and certainty come from a certain conscience, and yet not from a true conscience which may be doubtful.

Now, suppose we are in error, and think we are doing something good, whereas it is in reality evil. We perceive no malice in the deed, and, in performing it, there is consequently no malice in us, we do not sin. The act is said to be materially evil, but formally good; and for such evil, God cannot hold us responsible. Suppose again that we err, and that the evil we think we do is really good. In this instance, first, the law of morality is violated - a certain, though erroneous, conscience: this is sinful. Secondly, a bad motive vitiates an act even if the deed in itself be good. Consequently, we incur guilt and God's wrath by the commission of such a deed, which is materially good, but formally bad.

One may wonder and say: "how can guilt attach to doing good?" Guilt attaches to formal evil, that is, evil that is shown to us by our conscience and committed by us as such. The wrong comes, not from the object of our doing which is good, but from the intention which is bad. It is true that nothing is good that is not thoroughly good, that a thing is bad only when there is something lacking in its goodness, that evil is a defect of goodness; but formal evil alone can be imputed to us and material cannot. The one is a conscious, the other an unconscious defect. Here, an erroneous conscience is obeyed; there, the same conscience is disregarded. And that kind of a conscience is the rule of morality; to go against it is to sin.

There are times when we have no certitude. The conscience may have nothing to say concerning the honesty of a cause to which we are about to commit ourselves. This state of uncertainty and perplexity is called doubt. To doubt is to suspend judgment; a dubious conscience is one that does not function.

In doubt the question may be: "To do; is it right or wrong? May I perform this act, or must I abstain therefrom?" In this case, we inquire whether it be lawful or unlawful to go on, but we are sure that it is lawful not to act. There is but one course to pursue. We must not commit ourselves and must refrain from acting until such a time, at least, as, by inquiring and considering, we shall have obtained sufficient evidence to convince us that we may allow ourselves this liberty without incurring guilt. If, on the contrary, while still doubting, we persist in committing the act, we sin, because, in all affairs of right and wrong, we must follow a certain conscience as the standard of morality.

But the question may be: "To do or not to do; which is right and which is wrong?" Here we know not which way to turn, fearing evil in either alternative. We must do one thing or the other. There are reasons and difficulties on both sides. We are unable to resolve the difficulties, lay the doubt, and form a sure conscience. What must we do?

If all action can be momentarily suspended, and we have the means of consulting, we must abstain from action and consult. If the affair is urgent, and this cannot be done. If we must act on the spot and decide for ourselves, then, we can make that dubious conscience prudently certain by applying this principle to our conduct: "Of two evils, choose the lesser." We therefore judge which action involves the least amount of evil. We may embrace the course thus chosen without a fear of doing wrong. If we have inadvertently chosen the greater evil, it is an error of judgment for which we are in nowise responsible before God. But this means must be employed only where all other and surer means fail. The certainty we thereby acquire is a prudent certainty, and is sufficient to guarantee us against offending.

Devotions in the Church

First Conference on the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus

by

Fr. Henry Brinkmeyer

There is a distinction to be made between faith and devotion. We cannot be devout without faith, but we may have faith without devotion. The doctrines of faith do not grow; they are always the same; but devotion to these doctrines may and does grow; in other words, the objects of faith are always the same, but they are not always felt, and in consequence, the same honors and the same love are not always rendered them. Thus the sun in the spring-time will have to shine many days before it is able to melt the frost, open the soil, and bring out the leaves; yet it shines out from the first, though it makes its power felt but gradually. In like manner, some truth may shine out in the Church for a long time before it is fully seized and realized and melts men's hearts into love and veneration of it. Moreover, just as the sun thaws in spring-time some particles of snow and ice more quickly than others, and causes some trees and flowers to sprout and bloom more readily than their fellows, so too, some truth may affect one soul more quickly and deeply than it does another, and though understood equally well by all, yet will not call forth equally well from all, religious honor, respect, veneration, fear or love. So, you see, Devotion is really "truth in bloom," and since there are many truths and many souls in the Church, we must expect to see these many devotions.

And such is the case. Any large parish church will illustrate this. The edifice itself is dedicated to Almighty God, under the invocation of the Blessed Virgin, or some particular saint; but within, there are sometimes three, five, seven or more altars, each of which has its particular saint or mystery to honor. The worshippers kneel here, each according to his own inclination. No one interferes with another. And as Mass is celebrated, and all follow the sacred rite, each one has his own devotions which are all more or less diversified, and though distinct, converge to one and the same God. Some associate to pray for a good death, others for the repose of the departed souls, others finally for the conversion of the heathen and the sinner; some join confraternities to honor the Precious Blood, others the Sacred Heart, others again the Immaculate Conception. In a word, there is a variety of devotions open to individual Catholics to choose from according to their religious task, their character, their tendency, and the prospect of personal edification.

What follows from the foregoing remarks? This: that Devotion depends principally on the lucid manifestation and the profound realization of a religious truth. Truth must be presented to the mind before it can meet with any recognition. We cannot honor and love what we do not know. The better we know a thing, and the more we see in it of the true, the good and the beautiful, the more potently can it influence us. Now, by devotion in general, we understand an ardent affection, which will show itself in outward acts when opportunity offers. Therefore, the better and the more generally a religious truth or object is understood and realized, the more ardent and the more universal is devotion for it apt to become. To be devout then, to be solidly pious, we stand in need of study or instruction or reflection; for, naturally, the more we learn of religion, and the deeper we enter into it, the more firm and fervent must our devotion grow; consequently we ought always to be learning: above all, by meditation and prayer, we ought to endeavor to bring religious truths home to our hearts in order to realize them; then only can we expect to obtain and foster devotion.

But you may ask: "If true devotion depends on understanding and realizing a religious truth, why is it then that the most learned theologians are not the most saintly men? See, here is a poor, ignorant man, who has never learned to read; he was neglected in his youth; he scarcely knows the Lord's Prayer by heart. There is a great scholar, a doctor of divinity. He knows the Bible in Hebrew, Greek and Latin. He has read through all the Fathers. He knows St. Thomas and Suarez by heart. He can solve almost any difficulty and talk for hours on some abstruse, mystical point of Theology. Why is it that the poor, ignorant man is sometimes exact in observing the laws of the Church, is charitable, avoids sin, and loves God, while perhaps the great doctor of divinity does none of these things?" The answer to this difficulty is easily given. The learned doctor may know more of truth, but he scarcely realizes any; while the poor man may know little, but the little he does know, he realizes intensely; it has entered deep into his heart and moves him to act accordingly. Therefore, I have said: devotion depends on the lucid manifestation and the profound realization of a religious truth.

To one other fact I wish to lead your attention, one which must not surprise us if we meet with it in history or books of travel, viz.: That devotions come and go, increase and decrease, are local and universal. In the so-called Raccolta, or prayer book, in which you have all the prayers and acts indulgenced by the Popes of various centuries, in this Raccolta, I say, we find numbers of devotions of which we perhaps never heard before; some of them were formerly loved and revered and widely practiced, but are now perhaps passing away.

For instance, at first great devotion was paid to the apostles, then followed others to the martyrs; though all along there were saints nearer to our Lord than either martyrs or apostles; but, as if they had been lost in the effulgence of His glory, and because they were not manifested in external works separate from Him, it happened that, for a long time, they were less thought of. In the process of time, the apostles and then the martyrs exerted less influence than before over the popular mind, and the local saints, who were new creations of God's grace, took their place. Then, owing to the religious meditation of holy men and their gradual influence upon Christian people, those names which might at first sight have been expected to enter somewhat into the devotions of the faithful, shone like stars in the ecclesiastical heavens.

St. Joseph furnishes a most striking instance. It was always known that he was the foster-father of our Lord and the chaste spouse of Mary, and still, though he had so great a claim to the veneration and love of the faithful, devotion to him is comparatively of late date, at least among Christian people. When once it began, men seemed surprised that it had not been thought of before; and now they justly hold him next to the Blessed Virgin in their religious affection and veneration.

Again, some saints are greatly honored in one locality, and scarcely at all in an other; the reason of it is frequently that he is the evangelist or patron, the child or benefactor or pride of that particular nation or city. Thus: St. Genevieve and St. Martin are greatly honored in France; St. Patrick in Ireland; St. Wenceslaus in Poland; St. Philip in Rome; St. Januarius in Naples; St. Anne in Canada; etc.

Finally, there are popular devotions - devotions that move not only individuals and localities, but also the masses, aye, the world. Such popular devotions are abundant outpourings of the Holy Ghost, moving multitudes to love and religion, working out divine purposes, developing and protecting some divine principle or institution, or shielding from some imminent danger threatening religion or society. From time to time, Almighty God lets, as it were, a ray of intense light stream in upon some truth or object of Faith, which, illuminating it, throws other truths and objects in a dark background. This truth or object, though always known, being thus prominently held up, strikes men's attention and seizes upon their affections; in this way popular devotions arise and spread: they are evidences of Divine Providence in general, and especially of God's loving care of His Church.

In our century there are two such popular devotions, which evidently came from God. They are devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and devotion to the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin. These two devotions should be especially cultivated because they are intended in the designs of God to answer to the wants of the age. Of the two, that of the Immaculate Conception holds of course a subordinate place; it is intended as a preparation for the other. For Jesus is obscured when Mary is kept in the background. She has protected Him; as in His infancy, so in the history of devotion; and we shall see in a future instruction that devotion to the Immaculate Conception protects devotion to the Sacred Heart and ministers to it.

"Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and of the knowledge of God!" Truly, He reacheth from end to end mightily and ordereth all things sweetly. Let us submit to His inscrutable judgments, and endeavor to realize all His designs; for, on the one hand, God's glory is man's happiness, and man's happiness is God's glory; and on the other hand, God would cease to be God if He sought not in all things His glory and man's happiness.

On Swallowing Camels

A few days ago, The Remnant published a letter they received from a priest - who has chosen to remain anonymous - in which he relates his misgivings about the intentions of Pope Francis in regards to the 2015 Synod. While the whole letter is worth reading, the following selection is enough to give you, gentle reader, an impression of the depth of the priest's concern:

All over the world we're seeing cardinals, archbishops and bishops affirming behaviors which are unequivocally condemned by Popes and Councils in previous centuries. As I listen and watch these events, in my mind, over and over, I hear the phrase, "the smoke of Satan has entered the sanctuary." Could it be that all that is happening is truly the work of Satan? I'm not ready to affirm that it is, but in my heart I fear that it may be true. If it is, then it may also be true that many members of our hierarchy do not belong to Christ.

While the priest is to be commended for possessing the integrity to follow his thoughts through to their logical conclusion, I have to ask the following:

What gave it away?

Was it the intentional corrupting of the Mass of Ages? Was it the elimination of Latin, the setting up of a table in the holy sanctuary, the tearing out of altars, the removal of tabernacles, or the smashing of statues? Was it perhaps the profaning of the Blessed Sacrament through communion in the hand, the replacement of Gregorian chant with vapid Folk-Pop, liturgical dance, or the positively abominable architecture? Was it the preaching of heretical homilies from the pulpit, the tacit acceptance of universal salvation and the equality of all religions, the gradual rehabilitation of Martin Luther, or the total abandonment of canon 915? Or perhaps the pandering to apostate nuns, the utter corruption of Catholic higher education, or the bankrupting of entire dioceses to pay for the hideous crimes perpetrated by generations of homosexual pedophile clergymen?

No?

Lest the title of this post be misunderstood, I am in no way downplaying the gravity of the matter of allowing public adulterers to receive Holy Communions. But this is the thing that finally wakes a person up to the reality of the situation? Seriously? If this were a Shakespearean drama, we'd be deep in the third act with Lord Polonius gasping his last breath at the end of Hamlet's sword. And somebody is just now beginning to suspect that "this Hamlet fellow seems rather upset"? Really?

Be that as it may, I am willing to overlook that a priest of 25 years has apparently taken all of those years to recognize that something is rotten indeed in the state of Denmark. But then the letter takes a turn which I cannot so easily overlook. He writes:

One of my priest friends asked me during a conversation what I would do if the Church does formally approve what it previously formally condemned. I had to confess in all honesty that I’d probably have to leave priestly ministry. He admitted that he’d probably have no choice but to do the same.

What? This from a dear friend of the Bridegroom? Men have come to ravish the bride on the night before her wedding, and he wishes to abandon her, fleeing for his safety? Has he lost his mind? Being the most beautiful of brides, it is quite natural that she has attracted countless perverts and degenerates over the years. But never has a true priest considered abandoning her in her hour of need.

What if they attempt to promulgate heresy? What of it? Does that mean that the gates of hell have prevailed? Perish the thought! The Church is indefectible. She cannot teach error; those who try to foist error upon her soon find themselves dashed against the Rock that is her true foundation.

Non praevalebunt!

Saints are in the making as I write, gentle reader. Pray for the grace to stand firm beside them.

The Doctrine and Liturgy of the Early Church

Reading N°6 in the History of the Catholic Church

by

Fr. Fernand Mourret, S.S.

We can distinguish with clearness and precision the three chief dogmas that emerged from the faith in the early period of the history of the Church: the Incarnation, the Trinity, and the Redemption.

3rd century depiction of Christ, Alpha and Omega
Catacomb of Commodilla

From the very first, the faithful believed firmly in the Incarnation of the Son of God. "The declarations of St. Paul and St. John [...] only expanded the common belief, which, though at that time still wanting in power of expression, was deep and unyielding. [...] The essence of this belief was in the souls of Christians from the first. [...] The early Christian books all take this fundamental belief for granted, as universally accepted and firmly rooted in tradition."^[1]

Belief in the dogma of the Trinity is equally clear. "To admit that Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit are God, is to admit that they participate in the very essence of the One God, that they are, each of them, identical with Him, yet without being deprived of certain special characteristics. This is the Christian doctrine of the Trinity; not certainly, as it was formulated later, in opposition to transient heresies, but as it appealed to the general conscience of the early Christians, and claimed the homage of their faith. The generality of Christians in the first century, even in Apostolic days, stood here almost exactly at the same point as present-day Christians."^[2] "But Jesus is not only the Messias and the Son of God, He is also the Savior. [...] He is their Redeemer, and it is by His death on the Cross that He has won His rights over them. We must not think that this conception, upon which St. Paul insists so often and so strongly, is merely the result of his own personal reflections. [...] St. Paul tells us^[3] that, finding himself at Jerusalem after his first mission, he communicated to the leaders of the Church, to Peter, James, and John, as well as to the others, the gospel which he had taught the Gentiles, in order, he says, not to 'run in vain.' [...] As his statement was not disputed, we must conclude that the redeeming efficacy of the Lord's death was from that time acknowledged by the Apostles."^[4]

It is, then, true to say that, although Christianity has its roots in the Jewish tradition, from the very first days it passes beyond that tradition and is distinguished from it, like a powerful shoot animated by a new sap. It keeps the sacred books of the Old Testament in order to clarify and supplement them in the light of a faith proper to itself. And this faith rests neither upon a collective mystical inspiration nor upon a purely internal illumination of each individual, but upon a solid teaching that constitutes the Apostles' message, which they communicate and impose with authority on every member of the Christian community. It is Tradition, the Paradosis or Teaching of the Apostles, the Didache tôn apostólôn.^[5] This rule of faith is based, in the last analysis, on the divine authority of Jesus. He is the Christ; He is the Lord. As Christ, He is the realization of Israel's Messianic hope; as Lord, He is the Voice, the very Word of the heavenly Father, who declared Him to be such on the day of His first manifestation: "This is My beloved Son; hear Him."^[6]

The autonomy of the Christian Church showed itself also in its ceremonies. "The Acts of the Apostles distinctly acquaints us with three of these rites: Baptism, imposition of hands, breaking of bread. Even if we suppose, as has been somewhat gratuitously asserted at times, that these three ceremonies were in use in Israel already before the time of Christ, they were practiced in the Christian community according to the very special manner taught by the Apostles and with a specifically Christian meaning. It was a Baptism 'in the name of the Lord Jesus'; it was an imposition of hands 'to confer the Holy Ghost'; it was the breaking of bread 'renewing the mystery of the Last Supper'."^[7]

3rd century depiction of Baptism
Catacomb of Ss Marcellinus and Peter

In the first place, we see that no one can be admitted to the community without going through a ceremony of initiation; it is a liturgical ablution, the Baptism of water. Even if the candidate were already favored with a direct effusion of the Holy Ghost, he is not dispensed from the sacramental rite. After the example of the Divine Master, who willed to receive a similar initiation from the Precursor, the catechumen goes down into a stream of water, as did the eunuch of Queen Candace,^[8] or the water is poured upon his head, as must have been the case when the Apostle St. Paul received Baptism at the hands of Ananias^[9] and when St. Paul himself baptized his jailer in prison.^[10] This rite signifies death to profane life and birth in a new life that will incorporate the candidate with Christ by making him a member of the Church. St. Paul speaks of the burial accomplished by baptism;^[11] and tradition has always referred to the baptismal rite the words of Jesus to Nicodemus, when He spoke to him about the necessity of being born again. So the Church requires of the neophyte the fulfilment of two preliminary conditions: repentance and faith. On Pentecost, Peter said: "Do penance, and be baptized."^[12] To the eunuch of Queen Candace, Philip the deacon said: "If thou believest with all thy heart, thou mayest" be baptized.^[13] When all these conditions are fulfilled, the neophyte, putting off the old man, sees the new man born in him, with the inner grace and the indelible character of the Christian. Henceforth he belongs to a race of "saints";^[14] he can say that he is of a "kingly priesthood,"^[15] and even of "the offspring of God."^[16]

Thus the Apostles sought to make the unique and transcendent character of Christian Baptism stand out. They contrasted it with the baptism of John and were wont to call it "the Baptism of Jesus."^[17] So great was their insistence on this point that some writers have questioned whether the primitive formula of Baptism was not: "I baptize you in the name of Jesus."^[18] This opinion must be rejected; the Apostles' insistence on the use of such expressions is sufficiently explained by their desire to indicate clearly the distinctive character of Christian Baptism.

The imposition of hands perfects the special quality of the Christian by conferring upon him the Holy Ghost. In Samaria, Peter and John met some of the inhabitants who had been converted and baptized by Philip the deacon, and imposed hands on them to confer the Holy Ghost.^[19] St. Paul, when he found some disciples of John the Baptist, first baptized them, and then imposed hands on them.^[20] Theologians consider this ceremony to be the Sacrament of Confirmation. In the Apostolic age, marvelous signs, often called charismata, accompanied the outpouring of the Holy Ghost.

The Spirit speaks by the mouth of the newly confirmed; the Spirit prophesies the future; the Spirit gives them commands, raises their arms, enlightens their view; the Spirit manifests Himself in visions, ecstasies, prayers, and devout hymns. The Spirit pours Himself out in strange and at times inexplicable gifts, like the gift of tongues.^[21] The Epistle to the Hebrews appeals to God's testimony to His Church "by  signs and wonders and divers miracles, and distributions of the Holy Ghost, according to His own will."^[22] We are here in the presence of those mystical gifts which, by their essential quality, are above all the endeavors and efforts of man^[23] and depend solely upon God's good pleasure. We know that the rule to be followed by those whom God favors with such states is to subordinate all these extraordinary ways to the authority of the Church.^[24] We might also remark that the gifts bestowed by the Holy Ghost upon the early Christians do not differ essentially from those which God later gave to His great mystics, such as Francis of Assisi, Catherine of Siena, and Teresa of Jesus, and that the Church since then has never met with such frequent and extraordinary graces. Those mystical gifts lasted but a short time in the Apostolic age and were subordinated to two principles: the faith authentically received, and common edification.^[25] St. Paul writes: "Though an angel from heaven preach a gospel to you besides that which we preached to you, let him be anathema. [...] If any seem to be a prophet or spiritual, let him know the things that I write to you, that they are the commandments of the Lord."^[26] So far as we are able to conjecture, the sole purpose of God in lavishing such abundant and striking gifts upon His Church was to signify plainly that a new society had come into being, marked with the seal of truth and manifestly aided by the Divine Spirit.

3rd century depiction of the Eucharist
Catacomb of San Callisto

But we have not yet penetrated into the most sacred sanctuary of the infant Church. When towards evening groups of disciples were "breaking bread from house to house," and "persevering in prayer,"^[27] they knew they were performing the most solemn and touching ceremony of their religion. When celebrating the Last Supper with His disciples, Jesus had commanded them to renew the memory of it. They were faithful to this command. Their rite had nothing in common with those fraternal agapes in use among the members of the various societies and corporations in the Greco-Roman world. The meals of charity, or Christian agapes, were not introduced into the Church until later on. The religious meal of which we are here speaking was simply the commemoration of the one which the Savior took with His disciples the day before His death. The change made by Jesus in the celebration of the Jewish Pasch divided it into two distinct parts, the first being merely a preparation for the second. From that first part, the disciples of Christ kept, not the symbolic food courses, which they replaced by others, but only the prayer formulas. It was concerning this first common meal, to which each one brought his share, that St. Paul refers when he directs that the rich wait for the arrival of the poor, so that there may not be the scandal of some eating abundantly and others have nothing to eat.^[28]

At the close of this meal the celebration of the Eucharist, properly so called, began.^[29] By Baptism, the Christian felt that he was incorporated in the mystical person of Christ surviving in the Church; by Confirmation, his soul was penetrated by the action of the Holy Spirit, the Sanctifier. In the Eucharist, it is Jesus Himself, present under the species of bread and wine, who is united with the Christian in the closest manner. The new convert felt himself, in a way, the equal of the disciple who rested on the breast of the beloved Savior. Unspeakable mystery! It appeared so great, it so reached the inmost fibers of the heart, that it was not spoken of in the presence of the profane. Instinctively, by a common accord, the early Christians observed this law of the "secret," which safeguarded their worship from sacrilegious profanations and indiscreet curiosity.^[30] Further, "in this mystery, the Church would find an indelible line of demarcation, separating her from Mosaism. Whether or not the disciples felt this from the very first, the Cross arose more and more inexorably between them and the Jews, casting the latter behind and ordering the Christians to advance. Jesus' death was the crime of the Jews and the salvation of the Christians. [...] It was the Cross that destroyed the Synagogue and built up the Church, and its living and efficacious memorial is nothing other than the Eucharist."^[31]

Encased wooden altar used by Pope St. Peter at Rome
St. John Lateran Basilica

Footnotes

[1] Duchesne, Early History of the Christian Church, I, p. 31.

[2] Ibidem, p. 32.

[3] Gal. 2:1 f.

[4] Duchesne, op. cit., p. 32.

[5] Acts 2:42.

[6] Matt. 3:17, Luke 9:35. On Tradition as the rule of faith in the early Church, see Batiffol, Primitive Catholicism.

[7] Yves de la Brière, art. "Eglise" in the Dict. apol. de la foi catholique, I, 1252.

[8] Acts 8:26-38; 10:44-48; 11:15-17- It would seem that, at the beginning, Baptism was habitually administered by immersion, only occasionally by pouring. (Cf. Vacant's Dict. de théol., II, 171.)

[9] Acts 9:18.

[10] Acts 16:33.

[11] Rom. 6:4.

[12] Acts 2:38.

[13] Acts 8:37.

[14] Rom. 15:26.

[15] Cf. 1 Pet. 2:9.

[16] Acts 17:28.

[17] Acts 2:38; 8:12; 10:48; 19:5.

[18] V.g. Peter Lombard and Cajetan. St. Thomas (Summa theol., III, q. 66, art. 6, ad I) restricts the validity of this formula to the first century, and thinks that the Apostles made use of a special dispensation in substituting it for the ordinary formula.

[19] Acts 8:12-18.

[20] Acts 19:1-6.

[21] For the theologians' explanations and those of the Rationalists, see Prat, La Théologie de saint Paul, I, 175-184; Lesêtre, art. "Langues" in the Dict. de la Bible, IV, 74-81.

[22] Heb. 2:3 f.

[23] St. Teresa, Way of Perfection, ch. 32.

[24] St. John of the Cross, Ascent of Carmel, bk. 2, ch. 30.

[25] Batiffol, Primitive Catholicism, pp. 28 f.

[26] Gal. 1:8; 1 Cor. 14:37.

[27] Acts 2:42-46. Cf. 1 Cor. 10:16-21; 11:23 ff.

[28] On the Eucharist and the agape among the early Christians, see Batiffol, Études d'histoire et de théologie positive, 1st ser., pp. 283-325; Funk, "Agape" in the Revue d'hist. ecclés., 1903; Leclercq, art. "Agape" in the Dict. de théol.

[29] We may see in our present beginning of the Mass the continuation of this portion of the primitive rite.

[30] The disciplina arcani was not a legislative measure of ecclesiastical authority, as was long supposed, but a simple custom. There was no hesitation in departing from it whenever there seemed to be a good reason for so doing. See Batiffol, Études d'histoire et de théologie positive, 1st ser., pp. 1-41.

[31] Le Camus, L'Œuvre des apôtres, I, 44.

***

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An Interview with Cardinal Sarah

His Eminence Robert Cardinal Sarah
(Photo: M. Migliorato/CPP/CIRIC)

On the Crisis of European Culture

Q. Your Eminence, the book you have published, consisting of interviews with Nicholas Diat, is called God or Nothing [Original: Dieu ou rien]. Seeing as Europe has largely lost the sense of God, would you say that Europe has thus become Nothing?

A. I can only answer in the affirmative. Without God is Nothingness. Without God, there is Nothing. Without God, what am I? What keeps me alive? And after this life, what is there? If God does not exist, there is no eternal life.

Q. Europe, after having experienced the horrible wars of the 20th century, desired to focus on peace, assuming that everything arising from its identity - and therefore, potentially, its Christian heritage - could be deadly. In the book, it seems that you think Europeans should understand that their history and their spiritual and cultural heritage are not necessarily the cause of such troubles, and that we could maintain peace without having to sacrifice them. But how does one convince Europeans of this?

A. The process is not realistic; it is our interests which cause wars, not our religion. What causes war? What manufactures weapons? It is not religion, it is not God. And who sells them? War is a result of our greed and our thirst for gain. However, some fanatics use religion to provoke war. But I do not think you can accuse religion without accusing oneself. 

Observe the current conflicts. Fundamentalism was not born out of nothing. We attacked Iraq, and total chaos between Shiites and Sunnis was the result. We attacked Libya, and it is now a country in a volatile situation.

On Islamic Fundamentalism

Q. Is Islamic fundamentalism, then, a reaction to European actions? Or does it fuel itself?

A. The subject is complex. However, that fundamentalism is a cultural reaction should not be overlooked. Standing opposite of the Islamic religion is a religion of morals, but without God. Indeed, there is the appearance of progress, but this is a façade.

Q. Is this what John Paul II called the "Culture of Death"?

A. Precisely. They mock those who believe; they caricature. It causes a reaction, perhaps excessive, but I think that we cannot deny that this is a reaction to an atheist society, one without God, which does not shrink from ridiculing its own martyrs. They did it with Jesus Christ. There have been abominable films. Such things don't provoke the same reaction as they would among Muslims. But do not believe that all who are civilized accept having things which are essential to them being mocked.

Q. You come from Guinea, a country with a Muslim majority, where we can observe two currents familiar from elsewhere in the world: conventional, local Islam, and the Islam funded by Gulf countries, which poses a problem. In your book, you speak of a European ideological neo-colonialism which tries to impose upon the world its own ideas, in particular its theory of "gender".  However, does not Islam also evidence a desire to advance a policy of expansion?

A. Conventional African Islam, from the South, is very religious and very tolerant. For my part, I've never experienced difficulties between Christians and Muslims. When I celebrated the Feast of the Nativity in the cathedral, there were many Muslims who attended and who came to hear the message. We have always lived in fraternal peace. Indeed, since the 1970's, many Muslims have received scholarships to study in Saudi Arabia and elsewhere and have returned as fanatics. These, then, not only attack Christians, but especially their fellow Muslims.

Q. How do we escape from the notion which has arisen in the European mind that conflict with Islam is inevitable? Where is the way out?

A. What I am saying in this book is that it is necessary to help Europe return to God, to help it find its own identity. It is absurd to deny Europe's Christian roots. It is like closing our eyes and claiming there is no sun! But today's Europe refuses life: it does not bring forth life; it is growing old; it is saying that a man has no sex but can instead choose. This Europe has brought itself into a position of feebleness.

Q. What do you say to those who fear a war of religions? To affirm one faith is to necessarily enter into confrontation with another.

A. We, the Christians, we cannot raise an army on the pretense of defending our faith. Should a Christian army defend the Christians? No, this is against the Gospel. When Jesus was taken and bound, St. Peter drew his sword to defend him. Jesus said to him: "Put up again thy sword into its place: for all that take the sword shall perish with the sword."

Q. How does one for whom life has lost its meaning, as in Europe, rediscover it? We see this with the convert jihadis. Perhaps this is a reaction to the spiritual emptiness of Europe?

A. They leave because they find nothing here. No more values, no more religion, nothing. They seek there something to defend, something which gives them life. Today, I was at Saint-Germain-des-Prés where, I was told, many young people come to learn the Faith. It is a hope. But, personally, I think we should not minimize the growth of the Islamic presence in your country.

On the Great European Apostasy

Q. In the book, you talk about the "genius of Christianity," citing, among other things, La Manif Pour Tous as an expression of this genius. The very notion of a "genius of Christianity" has become almost scandalous today - in Europe and especially in France - where God and faith are often seen as forms of alienation. How are we to take this message of the "genius of Christianity" when it seems so provocative?

A. I want to remind the French that they are Christians, even if they do want want to recognize it. They have their history, their culture, their music, their art.... To call them to prayer, to protest against an unrealistic interpretation of human nature - that is to say, the theory of "gender".... To explain this in a firm but respectful manner, that is charity. If you let your friend destroy himself, you cannot say your love is genuine. Even if they do no want to hear it, they are Christians.

What's worse, even among those that do, they do not dare to declare themselves Christian. I have an adoptive family - I have three adoptive sisters in France - and when I arrived in my priest's habit, I was told, "Remove that." But this is my uniform! When a doctor goes to the hospital, he is not dressed however he likes. But it is true, and it was John Paul II who said it: such Christians are apostates. They do not say it. They claim to be Christian still. But in their manner of living, in their ideas, they act as if they were not Christians.

Q. Is it because we have given up the discipline which must accompany faith?

A. Not just discipline, but also the doctrine. We gave up the teaching which forms a man. This teaching, of course, engenders discipline. But before discipline, it is the teaching which has been discarded. And worst is that even some bishops - though a minority - say abominable things.

Q. To what extent is the Church in France not responsible for this situation? One has the impression that catechism has become a coloring workshop....

A. We gave up teaching catechism. Something was put in its place which is not a catechism, for it fails to incorporate, for example, certain points of doctrine. There was a refusal to teach catechism, and to learn it by heart, so that when children have finished, they know nothing at all, neither their prayers nor the Gospels. I think it is our responsibility because we have not done our job.

This is especially true when bishops interpret the word of God in their own way. I just re-read the statement of the Bishop of Oran on marriage. In the Gospel of St. Mark, chapter 10, Jesus says, "What therefore God hath joined together, let no man put asunder." "Whosoever shall put away his wife and marry another, committeth adultery against her." The woman, too. It is very clear. But some bishops say, "No, one may marry again."

Q. Benedict XVI gave the impression of being very aware of these issues. Is Pope Francis, of whom you are a close associate, also?

A. Benedict was, first and foremost, a European - someone who has studies the profound crisis of the West. That is why his doctrine, the clarity of his teaching, was incontestable. When someone is drowning, you have to draw water. In the dark, you have to turn on the light. And Benedict XVI had the light. For Francis, who comes from elsewhere, measuring the depth of the European crisis is a challenge.

On the Scandal of the 2014 Synod

Q. Do you feel that the debate within the Church, which, in France, is often portrayed as a debate between progressives and conservatives, is organized around that issue, that is, around the crisis of the West and the crisis of faith in the West?

A. I think the debates, as evidenced by the last Synod, led everyone to focus upon the many crises instead of on the beauty of the Church and of marriage. But the Church is not only European; it is also African, Asian, Middle Eastern. The Gospels, and the martyrs, tell us that faith means to give of one's life unto death. The faith is not there to provide easy solutions to those in difficult situations. But the Europeans have closed their eyes; they think that the martyrs only require political or material support. But what the Oriental and Africans need is your faith, to see that they die for the same reason that you live here: faith in Jesus Christ.

Q. Do you think that Europe adds to the misery of persecuted Christians around the world precisely because of having lost its faith?

A. Of course. For to not support someone profoundly, to not share his faith, to not accept to suffer with him, is to affect his faith. This is especially true of African Christians who hear Europeans - Christians before them - say that faith is pointless, while it is a gift, a grace. It is a pity that there is not a more continuity of belief.

On Righting the Course

Q. Faith is a gift, a grace.... How would you explain the faith to Europeans, who have not merely lost their faith, but who have even forgotten the very idea?

A. I believe in someone who made me, who loves me, who is a Father upon whom I depend. If the existence of God is no longer perceptible, faith no longer exists. This is why the Fathers, the Popes have insisted that God can be proven. But for many Europeans, God is dead.

Q. Do you think the Church in France should confront more policy issues such as gender theory, homosexual marriage, euthanasia, abortion? In the book, you explain how all of these are fundamentally carriers of the "Culture of Death," to use the expression of John Paul II. What is the right strategy, apart from prayer?

A. There are certainly more weapons. But the main weapon is personal testimony, of strong marriages, strong families.... We need testimonials.

Q. Can you understand why some European Catholics were shocked by what the Pope recently said regarding Catholic families who reproduce "like rabbits"?

A. Do not get carried away by these little airplane quips. This conversation with the Holy Father was with journalists during a long flight. Suppose I am a priest, and I conduct myself poorly. Should those who see me, in turn, do the same? Moreover, in this case, the Pope subsequently made up for it.

Q. So, even the Pope can err?

A. Not when he makes statements of a dogmatic nature. But on questions of a philosophical  or economical nature, yes.

Q. Let us return to the testimony of exemplary Christians.

A. This is the first thing to be done. "You are my witness." That is to say, you live as a Christian should live. That does not mean that a Christian may not also engage himself politically to defend his values. I think that this is possible, because if Christians are removed from the process of decision-making, it is the enemies of the Church who will decide in favor of what they think is good. We need to encourage young adults to engage themselves politically.

Q. In your book, you talk about the "contagion of holiness." Do you think Christians in Europe have lost that sense, living in a profoundly relativist society? Should Christians in Europe and France regain their pride?

A. We should all be proud to be Christians. We should all be happy to be, because that's life. If I am without God, I die. To be with God is to be holy. Faith in God is not merely to think that He exists; it is to love as He loves, to forgive as He forgives. It is to imitate God. That is why the primacy of God is essential. I fight for a Being who is alive, who made me and who loves me.

Q. How do you respond to those who say that the Church has lost followers because it is not in line with the concerns of modern society, that it needs to adapt itself more to European society on issues such as contraception and divorce?

A. A doctor who has a patient, what does he do? Does he 'adapt' to the patient or does he try to fight the disease? The Church cannot say, "You are sick, and that's fine. I'll accompany you as you are." Instead, she should say, "I give you an ideal, a course of action." The Church does not invent anything; she says that which God told her to say. The Church would harm humanity if she were to abandon the Christian message by 'adapting'. The Church seems severe, but if I need an operation, I need to endure the pain in order to cure the sickness.

Q. In your book, you give an account of prayer - that one must know how to pray in silence. What about European Christians who have lost the sense of prayer?

A. It is through prayer that man is great. For the more he is on his knees, the more he is at the feet of God, the greater he is. I think that prayer is an attitude of both humility and greatness at the same time. If we do not pray, all of the troubles we have spoken about become a weight that we cannot carry. The Commandments are not laws; they are a path to the greater good. I think it is in prayer that we understand that all the circumstances of our lives are for the good.

***

Original: atlantico.fr (French)

The Moral Agent

Second in a Series on Catholic Morals

by

Fr. John H. Stapleton

The Thinker
Auguste Rodin (1840-1917)

Morals are for man, not for the brute; they are concerned with his thoughts, desires, words and deeds; they suppose a moral agent.

What is a moral agent?

A moral agent is one who, in the conduct of his life, is capable of good and evil, and who, in consequence of this faculty of choosing between right and wrong, is responsible to God for the good and evil he does.

Is it enough, in order to qualify as a moral and responsible agent, to be in a position to respect or to violate the Law?

It is not enough; but it is necessary that the agent know what he is doing, know that it is right or wrong, that he will to do it as such, and that he be free to do it or not to do it. Whenever any one of these three elements - knowledge, consent and liberty - is wanting in the commission or omission of any act, the deed is not a moral deed, and the agent, under the circumstances, is not a moral agent.

When God created man, He did not make him simply a being that walks and talks, sleeps and eats, laughs and cries; He endowed him with the faculties of intelligence and free will. More than this, He intended that these faculties should be exercised in all the details of life; that the intelligence should direct, and the free will approve, every step taken, every act performed, every deed left undone. Human energy being thus controlled, all that man does is said to be voluntary and bears the peculiar stamp of morality, the quality of being good or evil in the sight of God and worthy of His praise or blame, according as it squares or not with the Rule of Morality laid down by Him for the shaping of human life. Of all else He takes no cognizance, since all else refers to Him not indifferently from the rest of animal creation, and offers no higher homage than that of instinct and necessity.

When a man, in his waking hours, does something in which his intelligence has no share, without being aware of what he is doing, he is said to be in a state of mental aberration, which is only another name for insanity or folly, whether it be momentary or permanent of its nature. A human being, in such a condition, stands on the same plane with the animal, with this difference, that the one is a freak and the other is not. Morals, good or bad, have no meaning for either.

If the will or consent has no part in what is done, we do nothing; another acts through us. 'Tis not ours, but the deed of another. An instrument or tool used in the accomplishment of a purpose possesses the same negative merit or demerit, whether it be a thing without a will or an unwilling human being. If we are not free, if we have no choice in the matter, if we must consent, we differ in nothing from all brutish and inanimate nature that follows necessarily, fatally, the bent of its instinctive inclinations and obeys the laws of its being. Under these conditions, there can be no morality or responsibility before God; our deeds are alike blameless and valueless in His sight.

Thus, the simple transgression of the Law does not constitute us in guilt; we must transgress deliberately, willfully. Full inadvertence, perfect forgetfulness, total blindness is called invincible ignorance; this destroys utterly the moral act and makes us involuntary agents. When knowledge is incomplete, the act is less voluntary; except it be the case of ignorance brought on purposely, a willful blinding of oneself, in the vain hope of escaping the consequences of one's acts. This betrays a stronger willingness to act, a more deliberately set will.

Concupiscence has a kindred effect on our reason. It is a consequence of our fallen nature by which we are prone to evil rather than to good, to find it more to our taste and easier to yield to wrong than to resist it. Call it passion, temperament, character, what you will - it is an inclination to evil. We cannot always control its action. Everyone has felt more or less the tyranny of concupiscence, and no child of Adam but has it branded in his nature and flesh. Passion may rob us of our reason, and run into folly or insanity; in which event we are unconscious agents, and do nothing voluntary. It may so obscure the reason as to make us less ourselves, and consequently less willing. But there is such a thing as, with studied and refined malice and depravity, to purposely and artificially, as it were, excite concupiscence, in order the more intensely and savagely to act. This is only a proof of greater deliberation, and renders the deed all the more voluntary.

A person is therefore more or less responsible according as what he does, or the good or evil of what he does, is more or less clear to him. Ignorance or the passions may affect his clear vision of right and wrong, and under the stress of this deception, wring a reluctant yielding of the will, a consent only half willingly given. Because there is consent, there is guilt, but the guilt is measured by the degree of premeditation. God looks upon things solely in their relation to Him. An abomination before men may be something very different in His sight who searches the heart and reins of man and measures evil by the malice of the evil-doer. The only good or evil He sees in our deeds is the good or evil we ourselves see in them before or while we act.

Violence and fear may oppress the will, and thereby prove destructive to the morality of an act and the responsibility of the agent. Certain it is that we can be forced to act against our will, to perform that which we abhor, and do not consent to do. Such force may be brought to bear upon us as we cannot withstand. Fear may influence us in a like manner. It may paralyze our faculties and rob us of our senses. Evidently, under these conditions, no voluntary act is possible, since the will does not concur and no consent is given. The subject becomes a mere tool in the hands of another.

Can violence and fear do more than this? Can it not only rob us of the power to will, not only force us to act without consent, but also force the will, force us to consent? Never; and the simple reason is that we cannot do two contradictory things at the same time - consent and not consent, for that is what it means to be forced to consent. Violence and fear may weaken the will so that it finally yield. The fault, if fault there be, may be less inexcusable by reason of the pressure under which it labored. But once we have willed, we have willed, and essentially, there is nothing unwilling about what is willingly done.

The will is an inviolable shrine. Men may circumvent, attack, seduce and weaken it. But it cannot be forced. The power of man and devil cannot go so far. Even God respects it to that point.

In all cases of pressure being brought to bear upon the moral agent for an evil purpose, when resistance is possible, resistance alone can save him from the consequences. He must resist to his utmost, to the end, never yielding, if he would not incur the responsibility of a free agent. Non-resistance betokens perfect willingness to act. The greater the resistance, the less voluntary the act in the event of consent being finally given; for resistance implies reluctance, and reluctance is the opposition of a will that battles against an oppressing influence. In moral matters, defeat can never be condoned, no matter how great the struggle, if there is a final yielding of the will; but the circumstance of energetic defense stands to a man's credit and will protect him from much of the blame and disgrace due to defeat.

Thus we see that the first quality of the acts of a moral agent is that he think, desire, say and do with knowledge and free consent. Such acts, and only such, can be called good or bad. What makes them good and bad, is another question.