The Church of the Late First Century: Liturgy and Ritual

Reading N°16 in the History of the Catholic Church

 by

 Fr. Fernand Mourret, S.S.

The Doctrine of the Twelve Apostles supplies information on the liturgy of the late first century which is no less interesting than that on the hierarchy. The Christian's life is described as a life of prayer. He must pray at least three times a day.^[1] From other sources, we know that the hours for prayer were the third, the sixth, and the ninth,^[2] i.e., nine o'clock in the morning, noon, and three o'clock in the afternoon. The Christian's attitude at prayer was usually that of the orant, standing, bareheaded, with hands raised to the level of the shoulders. The Jews ordinarily prayed with their head covered. Slaves were not permitted to uncover their head, but St. Paul directed Christians to pray bare-headed, like free men.

Outside the fixed times of prayer, the Christians were urged "to seek daily the presence of the saints (i. e, other Christians, their brethren), that they might find rest in their words,"^[3] and to "be frequently gathered together seeking the things which are profitable for their souls."^[4] On Sunday, the Lord's Day, they are to confess their sins, be reconciled with their brethren if there have been any quarrels between them, and to offer the sacrifice.^[5]

The prayer formulas mentioned in the Didache are the Lord's Prayer and the prayers accompanying the reception of the Sacraments of Baptism and the Holy Eucharist. The Lord's Prayer is quoted verbatim, along with the following doxology: "For Thine is the power and the glory for ever,"^[6] a doxology that recalls the formula in Paralipomenon: "Thine, Jehovah, is greatness, power and majesty, victory and magnificence."^[7]

The Baptism of the Neophytes
Masaccio (1401-1428)

Brief but exact information is given about Baptism. Whoever is to be baptized prepares himself by a day or two of fasting.^[8] First, he must be taught all that he is to believe.^[9] He will be brought to some body of running water - spring, brook, or river^[10] - because running water, being fresher and purer than stagnant water, is a better symbol of the regenerating and refreshing action of the Sacrament. If living water is not to be had, other water may be used that has been gathered in some receptacle; in this case the water is poured three times on the head of the person to be baptized, "in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost."^[11] This is the earliest mention we have of baptism by pouring. This method which, as we have already stated, must have been employed in the beginning by the Apostles on various occasions and by way of exception, later disappeared from the current practice of the Church in consequence of the regular building of baptismal pools, which happened wherever Christian communities gathered together and where baptism by immersion was practiced.^[12] Baptism by pouring, used only for sick people, was no longer administered except in case of absolute necessity.

It has been remarked how carefully the Doctrine of the Apostles enumerates sins;^[13] it even arranges them in two lists, which, after a fashion, might be considered early examinations of conscience.^[14] It clearly affirms that sins can be forgiven.^[15] We know also that in Antioch, at the beginning of the second century, sinners could obtain remission of their faults by applying to the bishop.^[16] The self-accusation of sins, spoken of in the Didache,^[17] may not have been a sacramental, but a simple ritualistic confession, similar to that which the Jews used to make to one another in their synagogues.^[18]

Agape Banquet
from a fresco in the Catecombs of Ss. Mercellinus and Petrus

Likewise, it is not sure that chapters 9 and 10, containing thanksgiving prayers with regard to a mysterious meal, refer to the Eucharist. The meal alluded to may have been the purified and Christianized continuation of the Kiddush, or Jewish religious meal, and the invocations preceding and following it may be regarded as something like our blessing or grace before and after meals.^[19] In chapter 14, however, the mention of the Eucharist is beyond doubt.

On the Lord's Day come together, break bread and hold Eucharist [give thanks], after confessing your transgressions, that your offering may be pure; but let none who has a quarrel with his fellow join in your meeting until they be reconciled, that your sacrifice be not defiled. For this is that which was spoken by the Lord, "In every place and time offer me a pure sacrifice, for I am a great king," saith the Lord, "and my name is wonderful among the heathen." Appoint, therefore, for yourselves bishops and deacons worthy of the Lord.^[20]

There has been much insistence upon the identity of the Lord's sacrifice (θυσία) with that of Malachias, and thereby the comparison of the Lord's sacrifice with the Old Testament sacrifices. This, however, leaves no doubt as to the agreement of chapter 14 with the Apostolic and universal Eucharist of the Lord.^[21] That is indeed the "breaking of bread," the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, spoken of by St. Paul and St. Justin.^[22]

True, the words of institution, the words of consecration, are not mentioned. It is not explicitly said that the bread and wine are the body and blood of Christ, as was later specified in the paraphrase given of this passage in the Apostolic Constitutions. But we should not forget that the Didache was a manual of piety for the use of the ordinary Christian, and not a ritual.^[23] Moreover, if we consider the time and place of this book's composition, after Christianity's first contact with the Greco-Roman world, which was so avid of mysteries and so accustomed to look upon Oriental ceremonies as curious symbols, we are not surprised that the Christians were fearful of handing over the holiest of their mysteries to the extremely fanciful and perchance insulting interpretations of the pagans. Herein we find one of the circumstances that best explain the spontaneous origin of the "law of the secret," which did not rest on any written text, but upon a custom that was equivalent to a law and that assuredly had a solid justification. "The way of the Eucharistic prayers as given in the Didache - by suppressing the formulas most closely connected with the mysteries - was in accord with the rule known as the discipline of the secret."^[24]

Footnotes

[1] Didache, VIII, 3.

[2] Clement of Alexandria, Stromata, VII, 7.

[3] Didache IV, 2.

[4] Ibidem, XVI, 2.

[5] Ibidem, XIV, 1 f.

[6] Ibidem, VIII, 2.

[7] 1 Par. 29:11.

[8] Didache, VII, 4.

[9] Ibidem, VII, 1.

[10] Ibidem.

[11] Ibidem, VII, 3.

[12] De Rossi, Bullettino di archeologia cristiana, 1886, p. 19.

[13] Didache, Ch. 1-5.

[14] Ibidem, Ch. 5.

[15] Ibidem, XI, 7.

[16] St. Ignatius, Ad Phil., Ch. 8.

[17] Didache, IV, 14; XIV, 1.

[18] Buxtorf, Synagoga judaica, chap. 20.. Cf. Morin, De poenitentia, Bk. 4, Ch. 2, N° 21 f. Such, at least, is the view of several eminent Catholic scholars, e. g., Funk, Patres apostolici, I, 14, 32.

[19] Batiffol (Études d'histoire et de théologie positive, pp. 71-78), Cagin (L'Eucharistie, p. 254), Duchesne (Bull. crit., 1884, p. 385) and Ladeuze (Revue de l'Orient chrétien, 1902, pp. 339-399) think that there is question here of both the Agape and the Eucharist. The question of the Agape is of considerable apologetic importance. Most Rationalists hold that originally the Eucharistic supper was merely an ordinary meal which, after long evolution, became divided into two distinct ceremonies: the Eucharist and the Agape. Among the noteworthy books on this subject, is that of Baumgartner, Eucharistie und Agape im Urchristentum. The learned author cites and minutely analyzes a vast number of texts, grouped according to the countries whose practice they show. Then he states the following conclusions: In the first century we find, in all Christian centers that we know of, institutions that are perceptibly identical with regard to the Agape and the Eucharist. On Sundays, early in the morning or sometimes about midnight - the hour of the Lord's Resurrection - the Christians met together to celebrate the Eucharist. This latter is connected with religious instruction and includes essentially the prayer of thanksgiving pronounced by the bishop over the bread and wine; the people take part in this liturgical function by saying the Amen and by receiving Communion. Sunday evening, the Christians, following an old Jewish custom, take their meal in common, and this image of their brotherly love is also an occasion for them to refresh and succour their needy brethren: it is the Agape, a meal sanctified by prayer and by the exercise of the charismata of tongues and of prophecy; the celebration of the Eucharist was never connected with this evening meal, but, according to St. Paul (1 Cor. 11), the Agape was an image of the great love which Christ showed to His disciples at the Last Supper. "Baumgartner's work," says Vanhalst (Revue d'histoire ecclés., 1911, p. 721), "forms a solid defense of the Roman conception of the Eucharist. It is of genuine scientific value, harmonizing with the dogmatic conceptions of Catholic tradition." Yet, on several points, particularly on the subject of the Jewish prayers recited before the meal, Baumgartner's study should be supplemented by that of Mangenot, "Les soi-disant antécédents juifs dl l'Eucharistie," in the Revue du clergé français, 1909, PP. 385 ff., and by that of Batiffol, "Nouvelles études documentaires sur la sainte Eucharistie" in the Revue au clergé français, LX, 513.

[20] Didache, XIV, 1-3; XV, 1.

[21] Cagin, op. cit., p. 255.

[22] We do not understand how Rauschen (Eucharistie und Bussakrament in den ersten 6 Jahrhunderten der Kirche, p. 2) can say that one may hardly appeal to the Didache in favor of the Real Presence. If that text were isolated, doubtless it would be obscure; but when compared with so many other Apostolic, patristic, and archeological texts, its interpretation leaves no doubt.

[23] The prayer formulas given by the Didache are, moreover, only indications. We know that, in those early years, the celebrant himself improvised prayers. That practice continued until the fourth and even the fifth century. See Cagin, Te Deum ou lllatio, p. 342, and Souben, Le Canon primitif de la messe, p. 12.

[24] De Rossi, Bullettino di archeol. crist., 1886, p. 23.

***

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On Sorrow

If you're connected to any form of social media, chances are good that you're being barraged with exhortations to "be a joyful witness" and to "transmit joy and hope to others." It would seem that there's nothing more worthy of contempt these days than giving the appearance of being a "sad Christian," an "old maid," or a "sourpuss," to use a few choice insults which have been directed at faithful Catholics over the past few years. One gets the distinct impression that, no matter what you do, all will be forgiven as long as you do it with a smile.

Well, I call phooey. 

Personally, I'm tired of the insinuation that I'm a bad Catholic if I'm not glad-handing everyone I meet. Why not let prospective converts know the truth from the get-go?

Being Catholic is not always easy. It's not always fun, either. Sometimes, you have to make sacrifices that hurt. Sometimes those sacrifices are made for you. Sometimes you understand why, and sometimes you don't. But, as a Catholic, you can be sad without losing hope; you can experience sorrow without falling into despair. The great strength of Catholicism is not that it eliminates suffering, but that it gives our suffering meaning.

There's an old woman who sits, always alone, a few pews ahead of me at church. She never speaks to anyone. She knows all the hymns by heart. And she weeps bitterly through the whole Mass.

When I see her return to her place after having received Our Lord, her eyes are puffy and bloodshot, her nose red and shiny. Before the ciborium is placed back in the tabernacle, she has moved on to her second handkerchief, the first having been utterly demolished during the consecration.

After Mass, she kneels and sobs, sits and sobs, blows her nose a last time, collects her things, and then rises to leave. She always looks exhausted, like she has just returned from the bedside of a terminally ill loved one. There is a hint of a smile on her lips, but the smile is neither for me nor for the other parishioners, with whom she doesn't even try to make eye contact. She's smiling for Our Lord, who is in her heart.

She might be old and wrinkled, but at that moment, she's truly beautiful, positively glowing with love of God. And I love her for it.

If you are a "sad" Catholic, take heart, gentle reader: you're in good company.

Mater Dolorosa, ora pro nobis!

Does Richard Dawkins Exist?

Regular readers will have noticed that things around here have taken a decidedly philosophical turn as of late. I've written several longish articles (see here, here, here, here and here) which I sincerely hope have been able to spark in you an interest in our rich Catholic philosophical heritage. Now, I realize that engaging in the study of philosophy can be a somewhat daunting task, and I'm still looking for ways to make the treasures of Catholic philosophy more readily accessible to those of you whose resources in time and energy may be limited. In the meantime, I would like to keep the flame burning by presenting you with a talk delivered earlier this year by Dr. Dennis Bonnette of the Aquinas School of Philosophy with the delightfully cheeky title Does Richard Dawkins Exist? It's just over an hour long, and it's best enjoyed in one sitting, so try to find some undisturbed time to take it in.

The presentation itself is a very accessible introduction to Aristotelian-Thomist metaphysics. Dr. Bonnette goes about his task by contrasting the Theistic Hylomorphism of the Thomist school with the dominant scientistic philosophy of the day, i.e. Atheistic Materialism. For those of you engaged in apologetics, this video is sure to whet your appetite for more substantial portions. A brief outline of the talk is as follows:

• Introduction (0:42-2:06)
• The Case for Atheistic Materialism (2:06-25:10)
• The Response of Theistic Hylomorphism (25:10-59:20)
• Conclusion (59:20-1:02:20)

If you enjoyed the video, and would like more of the same, please let me know in the comments section.

In hoc signo perturbes

This post offers only a series of images, and I invite you, gentle reader, to peruse them at your leisure (the images can be viewed in a larger format by clicking on them). I'm not drawing any conclusions from this, and it's not meant to tempt you to wild speculation, either. It's just a starting point for a potentially interesting conversation, either here or elsewhere. Those who feel inspired to research the images further are welcome to add their own insights in the comments section.

Pope Francis

Cardinal Óscar Andrés Rodríguez Maradiaga

Archbishop Victor Manuel Fernández

Cardinal Chibly Langois

Archbishop Ludwig Schick

Bishop Christopher J. Coyne

Bishop Wayne Kirkpatrick

Bishop Edward Scharfenberger

Bishop Myron J. Cotta

Bishop Jaime Soto

Bishop Pierre Nguyên Van Kham

Bishop Jose Luis Lacunza Maestrojuan

Bishop Gabino Zavala (Ret.)*

Bishop David O'Connell

Bishop Luc Van Looy

Bishop Kevin Doran

Bishop Justin Mulenga

Bishop John Conway McNabb

Bishop Moses Hamungole

Bishops Robert Barron, Michael G. O’Connell and Joseph V. Brennan

Bishop Robert Barron
(just making sure)

Newly Recognized Chinese Bishops at Youth Synod 2018

*Note: Bishop Zavala resigned in 2012 after it was discovered that he had two children. The picture is from before his resignation, and is the earliest confirmed sighting thus far. Interesting, no?

Anger

Twelfth in a Series on Catholic Morality

 by
 Fr. John H. Stapleton

Ira (Anger)
Hieronymus Bosch

Never say, when you are angry, that you are mad; it makes you appear much worse than you really are, for only dogs get mad. Rabies in a human being is a most unnatural and ignoble thing. Yet common parlance likens anger to it.

It is safe to say that no one has yet been born that never yielded, more or less, to the sway of this passion. Everybody gets angry. The child sulks, the little girl calls names and makes faces, the boy fights and throws stones; the maiden waxes huffy, spiteful, and won't speak, and the irascible male fumes, rages, and says and does things that become him not in the least. Even pious folks have their tiffs and tilts. All flesh is frail, and anger has an easy time of it; not because this passion is so powerful, but because it is insidious and passes for a harmless little thing in its ordinary disguise. And yet all wrath does not manifest itself thus exteriorly. Still waters are deepest. An imperturbable countenance may mask a very inferno of wrath and hatred.

To hear us talk, there is no fault in all this, the greater part of the time. It is a soothing tonic to our conscience after a fit of rage, to lay all the blame on a defect of character or a naturally bad temper. If fault there is, it is anybody's but our own. We recall the fact that patience is a virtue that has its limits, and mention things that we solemnly aver would try the enduring powers of the beatified on their thrones in heaven. Some, at a loss otherwise to account for it, protest that a particular devil got hold of them and made resistance impossible.

But it was not a devil at all. It was a little volcano, or better, a little powder magazine hidden away somewhere in the heart. The imp Pride had its head out looking for a caress, when it received a rebuff instead. Hastily disappearing within, it spat fire right and left, and the explosion followed, proportionate in energy and destructive power to the quantity of pent-up self-love that served as a charge. Once the mine is fired, in the confusion and disorder that follow, vengeance stalks forth in quest of the miscreant that did the wrong.

Anger is the result of hurt pride, of injured self-love. It is a violent and inordinate commotion of the soul that seeks to wreak vengeance for an injury done. The causes that arouse anger vary infinitely in reasonableness, and there are all degrees of intensity.

The malice of anger consists wholly in the measure of our deliberate yielding to its promptings. Sin, here as elsewhere, supposes an act of the will. A crazy man is not responsible for his deeds; nor is anyone, for more than what he does knowingly.

The first movement or emotion of irascibility is usually exempt of all fault; by this is meant the play of the passion on the sensitive part of our nature, the sharp, sudden fit that is not foreseen and is not within our control, the first effects of the rising wrath, such as the rush of blood, the trouble and disorder of the affections, surexcitation and solicitation to revenge. A person used to repelling these assaults may be taken unawares and carried away to a certain extent in the first storm of passion, in this there is nothing sinful. But the same faultlessness could not be ascribed to him who exercises no restraining power over his failing, and, by yielding habitually, fosters it and must shoulder the responsibility of every excess. We incur the burden of God's wrath when, through our fault, negligence or a positive act of the will, we suffer this passion to steal away our reason, blind us to the value of our actions, and make us deaf to all considerations. No motive can justify such ignoble weakness that would lower us to the level of the madman. He dishonors his Maker who throws the reins to his animal instincts and allows them to gallop ahead with him, in a mad career of vengeance and destruction.

Many do not go to this extent of fury, but give vent to their spleen in a more cool and calculating manner. Their temper, for being less fiery, is more bitter. They are choleric rather than bellicose. They do not fly to acts but to desires and well-laid plans of revenge. If the desire or deed lead to a violation of justice or charity, to scandal or any notable evil consequence, the sin is clearly mortal; the more so, if this inward brooding be of long duration, as it betrays a more deep-seated malice.

Are there any motives capable of justifying these outbursts of passion? None at all, if our ire has the two features of unreasonableness and vindictiveness. This is evil. No motive, however good, can justify an evil end.

If any cause were plausible, it would be a grave injury, malicious and unjust. But not even this is sufficient, for we are forbidden to return evil for evil. It may cause us grief and pain, but should not incite us to anger, hatred and revenge. What poor excuses would therefore be accidental or slight injuries, just penalties for our wrongdoings and imaginary grievances! The less excusable is our wrath, the more serious is our delinquency. Our guilt is double-dyed when the deed and the cause of the deed are both alike unreasonable.

Yet there is a kind of anger that is righteous. We speak of the wrath of God, and in God there can be no sin. Christ himself was angry at the sight of the vendors in the temple. Holy Writ says: Be ye angry and sin not. But this passion, which is the fruit of zeal, has three features which make it impossible to confound it with the other. It is always kept within the bounds of a wise moderation and under the empire of reason; it knows not the spirit of revenge; and it has behind it the best of motives, namely, zeal for the glory of God. It is aroused at the sight of excesses, injustices, scandals, frauds; it seeks to destroy sin, and to correct the sinner. It is often not only a privilege, but a duty. It supposes, naturally, judgment, prudence, and discretion, and excludes all selfish motives.

Zeal in an inferior and more common degree is called indignation, and is directed against all things unworthy, low and deserving of contempt. It respects persons, but loathes whatever of sin or vice that is in, or comes from, unworthy beings. It is a virtue, and is the effect of a high sense of respectability.

Impatience is not anger, but a feeling somewhat akin to it, provoked by untoward events and inevitable happenings, such as the weather, accidents, etc. It is void of all spirit of revenge. Peevishness is chronic impatience, due to a disordered nervous system and requires the services of a competent physician, being a physical, not moral, distemper.

Anger is a weakness and betrays many other weaknesses; that is why sensible people never allow this passion to sway them. It is the last argument of a lost cause: "You are angry, therefore you are wrong." The great misery of it is that hot-tempered people consider their mouths to be safety-valves, while the truth is that the wagging tongue generates bile faster than the open mouth can give exit to it. St. Liguori presented an irate scold with a bottle, the contents to be taken by the mouthful and held for fifteen minutes, each time her lord and master returned home in his cups. She used it with surprising results and went back for more. The saint told her to go to the well and draw inexhaustibly until cured.

For all others, the remedy is to be found in a meditation of these words of the Our Father: "forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us." The Almighty will take us at our word.

On the Virtuous Pagan, Limbo and the Theology of Damnation

As some of you might have noticed, Christine Niles of Church Militant recently hosted a webcast which explored the thrice-defined dogma of extra Ecclesiam nulla salus (EENS), or "No salvation outside the Church." I took this as a wink from God, because I've been meaning to write something on this very important teaching for quite a while now. After months of procrastination, it seems the time has arrived to put my thoughts down on paper... or whatever blogs are made of. I offer them for your consideration.

Instead of going through the list of familiar papal pronouncements which treat the doctrine of EENS, I'd like to approach the teaching from a completely different angle. In particular, from that of the theology of damnation. This might at first seem to be a rather odd point of entry, but there are good reasons for exploring the theology of damnation before attempting to digest EENS. Three such reasons concern us here:

1. Damnation is the theological complement to salvation. Any doctrine which explicitly defines matter related to salvation implicitly defines matter related to damnation, as the one is the logical and eschatological complement of the other. Thus, EENS has just as much to do with damnation as it does with salvation.
2. Damnation is the rule, not the exception. It is often assumed that nearly everyone is saved, and that only a few exceptionally bad individuals - Hitler, Stalin, the guy who invented reality TV - are damned. On the contrary, damnation is the condition into which all of us are born, and unless we receive and die in the saving grace of God, damnation will also be our eternal reward. Christ came to save us from damnation, and it's a miracle every time a soul is saved precisely because, according to God's law, we fully deserve that damnation. This is essential background knowledge for approaching the doctrine of EENS.
3. Damnation is poorly understood. While damnation is the logical and eschatological complement to salvation, it is not simply the inverse of salvation. That is to say, the state of damnation is positively differentiated in a way which is not reflected in the order of salvation. Understanding this qualitative differentiation is essential for putting EENS in its proper theological context.

While the first two points should be readily grasped by all, the third stands in need of some clarification. In what does the qualitative differentiation of damnation consist? And how does it help elucidate the doctrine of EENS? Before we attempt to answer these important questions, it behooves us to identify the prevailing view of damnation, as this is what we will be attempting to correct as we proceed. This preliminary step proves to be key, because much of the disdain for the doctrine of EENS arises from a faulty understanding of damnation - which, incidentally, many Catholics have adopted from their Protestant neighbors.

As a general rule, Protestants believe that there are two possible fates for each individual soul - fates which are instantaneously awarded and diametrically opposite to one another: heaven and hell. One minute you're eating a delicious strip of crispy bacon, and the next, you're either sitting on a cloud strumming your harp or you're down in the pits of hell being roasted over hot coals while listening to Kenny G for all eternity. Of course, I'm taking some creative license with the imagery - it could well be Zamfir - but the dichotomy referred to is nonetheless an unmistakable feature of the Protestant's theological landscape. So much so, in fact, that, next to bashing the mother of Our Lord, there's little else Protestants love more than attacking the Catholic doctrine of Purgatory. In their strictly two-category system, Purgatory is like a third-party American President: interesting to think about but utterly impossible.

Most Catholics in the West have unconsciously absorbed this way of thinking about damnation. Sure, they know about Purgatory, but it's generally treated like a quirky doctrinal addendum and imagined to be not unlike a really horrible waiting room. This is a rather unfortunate state of affairs, because Catholic teaching on damnation is not only intellectually and morally satisfying, but also demonstrates the perfect harmony of God's mercy with His justice.

Back in the day - i.e. before the ecumenicidal leveling of every distinctively Catholic doctrine into the feel-good mush regularly served up in parishes around the world - theologians worked at providing genuine insight into the truths of our Catholic Faith. And damnation was, believe it or not, something of a "big deal" - so big, in fact, that theologians spent a lot of time examining it in great detail. They discovered that there are actually four kinds of damnation, each with their own variety of poena or "penalty" and each with their own proper spiritual 'location', though all can be considered as parts of "Hell", viz:

• poena aeterna damni et sensus of Hell proper, i.e. the Inferno
• poena temporalis damni et sensus of Purgatory
• poena aeterna damni of the Limbo of the Unbaptized/Infants
• poena temporalis damni of the Limbo of the Fathers

For those of you with a working knowledge of Latin and an appreciation of the Scholastic art of logical division, the breakdown here is as clear as it is precise. For everyone else:

There are two primary forms of "penalty", "punishment" or "pain" (all of which are etymologically related to Latin poena): (1) poena damni, the punishment of damnation, and (2) poena sensus, the punishment of the senses, i.e. sensory pain. Each of these can be either eternal (aeterna) or temporary (temporalis) in duration.

From this, we can draw several illuminating conclusions, many of which I will leave to you, gentle reader, to discover on your own. One critical insight which deserves to be highlighted, however, is this: the punishment of damnation and the punishment of sensory pain are not the same thing. In point of fact, the punishment of sensory pain is limited to Hell and Purgatory. This makes good Catholic sense, because Hell and Purgatory are the respective sentences for mortal and venial sin, and are therefore predicated upon the moral fault of the individual. Where there is no personal moral fault, as is the case with those who die with nothing other than the stain of original sin on their souls, there is no punishment of sensory pain. And how could it be any other way? God, being omnibenevolent, is not going to allow a person to be tormented for something of which he is not personally guilty.

At the same time, however, God is all-holy and all-just, and nothing bearing the stain of sin can stand before Him. And this is the essence of salvation: to be fully reconciled to God by removal of the stain of sin and to stand in His presence, i.e. to enjoy the beatific vision. Yet, the stain of original sin can only be removed by the waters of baptism. Thus, baptism is absolutely necessary in order to avoid the punishment of damnation and to enjoy the beatific vision, and the souls of those who die free from all personal sin but who are nonetheless stained with original sin are, technically speaking, damned. In this category would fall not only babies who die before baptism, but also virtuous pagans who never receive the opportunity to hear the Gospel and be baptized. But - and this is important - such a person does not suffer the positive pains of Hell.

This is not merely speculation culled from theological manuals. At least two Popes and an Ecumenical Council have said as much:

The Roman Church teaches [...] that the souls of those who depart in mortal sin or with original sin only descend immediately to Hell, nevertheless to be punished with different punishments and in disparate locations. - Pope John XXII, Nequaquam sine dolore

That is to say, the unbaptized who die without personal sin (i.e. "only original sin") are, strictly speaking, "damned," as they endure the poena damni or punishment of damnation. But the extent of their damnation is limited to the deprivation of the beatific vision, and they dwell in a "disparate location," i.e. not in Hell proper, as the place of sensory punishment. This teaching was confirmed by the Council of Florence in the following terms:

...the souls of those who depart this life in actual mortal sin, or in original sin alone, go down straightaway to Hell to be punished, but with unequal pains. - Council of Florence, Laetentur Caeli

Pope Pius VI later taught the same in his condemnation of an error widely held at his time:

The doctrine which rejects as a Pelagian fable that place of the lower regions (which the faithful generally designate by the name of Limbo of the Children) in which the souls of those departing with the sole guilt of original sin are punished with the punishment of the condemned, exclusive of the punishment of fire [...] is false, rash, injurious to Catholic schools. - Pope Pius VI, Auctorem Fidei

This statement is clearer still in that it identifies "that place of the lower regions," i.e. Limbo, as receiving not merely children but all who die free from personal sin yet with the stain of original sin, and that such persons, while undergoing the poena damni, do not experience the poena sensus, i.e. the "punishment of fire."

This same teaching was summarized by Fr. L. E. Latorre in his Guidebook for Baptism:

The great majority of theologians teach that such children and unbaptized adults free from grievous actual sin enjoy eternally a state of perfect natural happiness, knowing and loving God by the use of their natural powers. This place and state is commonly called Limbo.

This statement goes even further, claiming that, more than simply being free from sensory pain, those in Limbo actually experience natural happiness. This, however, appears to be a point upon which there was heavy disagreement among theologians. As one historian notes:

In the fifth session of the Council of Trent, the Dominicans advocated the stricter view, making of the limbus infantium [Limbo of the Infants] a dark, underground prison, while the Franciscans placed it above in a region of light. Others made the condition of these children still better: they supposed them occupied with studying nature, philosophizing on it, and receiving occasional visits from angels and saints. As the Council thought it best not to decide this point, theologians have since been free to embrace either view.

Finally, I offer the following useful summary, which appeared in the July, 1849 edition of Brownson's Quarterly Review:

Suppose now, - and if the supposition is inadmissible the objection vanishes, - that among the gentiles there are persons who die out of the Church, free from all actual sin: they, certainly, will never see God, will never enter heaven, will not be saved; yet nothing obliges us to believe that they will be doomed to the punishment of sense, or to the positive sufferings of hell. What will be their fate, beyond the fact that they will not be saved, we do not know, and do not attempt to determine. We remit them, if such there are, to the bounty of God, who, for aught we know, may place them in the category of unbaptized infants who die in their infancy. But no injustice is done them in not admitting them to the beatific vision; for to see God by the light of glory is a gratuitous reward, promised only to supernatural faith and sanctity, never due and never promised to mere natural innocence or to mere natural virtue. The defect of natural innocence or of natural virtue excludes from it, but the possession of either or both does not and cannot entitle to it; and natural innocence and virtue are all that it can be pretended that these have. Hence, supposing such persons, supposing them to die free from all but original sin, no injustice is done them in excluding them from salvation, and therefore the dogma which denies the possibility of salvation out of the Church asserts nothing contrary to the justice or even to the fidelity of God.

This quote brings us neatly back to our original question:  How does the qualitative differentiation of damnation help to elucidate the doctrine of extra Ecclesiam nulla salus? I hope the answer is already sufficiently clear. But allow me to highlight what I consider to be the most salient point:

There is absolutely nothing harsh or judgmental in the doctrine that there is no salvation outside the Catholic Church. On the contrary, a proper understanding of the teaching reveals both God's supreme justice as well as His infinite mercy, as He neither punishes nor rewards arbitrarily. If we approach the teaching with a wrong understanding of salvation and damnation, then we are bound to misunderstand what it means. We do not need to adjust the meaning of the term "outside," as some have attempted to do; we do not need to adjust the meaning of the term "Church," as others have attempted to do; and we certainly do not need to abandon the doctrine of Limbo, as still others have attempted to do. The Catholic teaching on salvation and damnation, including the teaching on the absolute necessity of the Church, is inextricably intertwined with her teaching on countless issues, being of central importance to moral theology, soteriology and eschatology, and a doctrine such as EENS cannot be "tweaked" to appease the sensibilities of a decadent and unrepentant generation without distorting a whole host of intimately related truths. 

Now, I understand that some might be concerned that the approach taken above - and it is nothing more than one possible approach - could be seen as demoralizing to the Church's missionary efforts. After all, if the Virtuous Pagan can attain something resembling natural happiness without being a member of the Church, then why should Catholics risk life and limb to bring them the message of the Gospel? In response, I would point, first, to Our Lord's positive commandment to "teach ye all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you." Second, I would highlight that, as Catholics, we know that man was created to live in the presence of Almighty God, and that to fail in attaining this, our proper end, is always a tragedy, even if it does not necessarily bring with it the painful torments of Hell. That is to say, our goal in evangelization and mission is not merely to assist the Church in her work of saving souls from Hell (or Purgatory, or Limbo), but also to assist her in bringing souls to the throne of majesty to enjoy the beatific vision of Our Lord in all His glory. That is the true mission of the Catholic Church, outside of which there is no salvation.

Dante and Vergil Visit the Virtuous Pagans in Limbo
"Lost are we and only so far punished that, without hope, we live on in desire."
Gustave Doré (1832-1883)

Cardinal Marx Gives Master Class in Subversion

His Eminence Reinhard Cardinal Marx
(Photo: Allessia Giuliani/CPP/Ciric)

Last week, the Central Committee of German Catholics (Zentralkomitee der deutschen Katholiken, ZdK) published a document which demands, among other things, sacramental blessings of same-sex unions and adulterous relationships as well as the "unconditional acceptance" of the cohabitation of people living in such unions. To anyone even remotely aware of the current moral condition of the German Catholic laity, the report was cause for little more than a deep if thoroughly unsatisfying yawn. It was only a few weeks ago that the Confederation of German Catholic Youth (Bund der deutschen katholischen Jugend, BDKJ) made much the same demands, and it was largely due to the BDKJ's inflexibility that the ZdK included them in the final draft of its paper. Today, however, the German Catholic press is awash with reports of Cardinal Reinhard Marx's critical - some would even say "harsh" - response to the ZdK document:

The document includes some demands which are theologically unacceptable. The demand for the blessing of same-sex partnerships and second marriages which remain unrecognized by the Church is incompatible with the teaching and tradition of the Church. The demand for "unconditional acceptance" of the communal life of committed same-sex relationships also contradicts the teaching and tradition of the Church.

What's this? Cardinal 'Moneybags' Marx suddenly develops an appreciation for fidelity to Church teaching and tradition? Before anyone begins singing Te Deum in thanks for the miraculous conversion of the current head of the German Bishops Conference, however, observe the demands included in the ZdK document which did not receive the same public deprecation:

• more respect for cohabitation outside of marriage, i.e. concubinage
• a re-evaluation of artificial methods of contraception
• more liturgical "development"
• admittance of divorced and "remarried" Catholics to Holy Communion

It doesn't take much insight to surmise that these demands were passed over in silence precisely because Cardinal Marx and the German faction he represents support them.

But at least he has categorically rejected something, right? I mean, he's demonstrated that he has something resembling conviction on a point of doctrine. That has to count for something, doesn't it? Well, it might - if it were true. Observe the words of the Cardinal which follow immediately upon the heels of his "condemnation":

Both issues [i.e. sacramental blessings of same-sex unions and adulterous relationships and "unconditional acceptance" of life in such states] require further theological clarification and not rash, bold demands, which do nothing to encourage what is certainly necessary theological debate and dialogue within the Church.

Ah, there it is: Modernism's penchant for duplicity. With one side of your mouth, condemn a proposition as contrary to Church teaching; with the other, open it up to debate and "dialogue". You know you're doing it right if you can accomplish the feat in a single breath.

Cardinal Marx is condemning, therefore, not so much the propositions of the ZdK, but rather their sophomorically blunt tactics. Any Modernist deserving of the name knows that open revolution is deadly to the cause. The name of the game is slow and steady subversion, and Cardinal Marx is a world-class player. So, take heart, fledgling subverters of the Confederation of German Catholic Youth: You just got schooled by the best.