from
THE
INFALLIBILITY OF
THE
CHURCH
(1888
edition)
(see Preface in footnote 4)
LECTURES DELIVERED IN THE DIVINITY SCHOOL
OF THE UNIVERSITY OF DUBLIN
BY
GEORGE SALMON, D.D.
SOMETIME PROVOST OF TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN
AND REGIUS PROFESSOR OF DIVINITY IN
THE UNIVERSITY OF DUBLIN
LECTURE 11.
DOES THE CHURCH OF ROME BELIEVE
IN HER OWN INFALLIBILITY?
I HAVE, in previous Lectures,
sufficiently discussed the abstract question, whether God has provided for us
any infallible guidance; and I consider that I have shown that there is not the
least reason to think that with respect to religious truth God has dealt with
us in a manner contrary to all His other dealings with us, by giving us such
secure, never-failing means of arriving at knowledge as shall relieve us from
the trouble of search and inquiry, and shall make error impossible. I propose now to lay before you such
evidence as will show that, whether there be anywhere an infallible Church or
not, the Church of Rome certainly is not.
You may, perhaps, think that this is a little waste of time;
for, if no Church be infallible, it follows at once that the Church of Rome is
not. It is true that, in the present
controversy, I constantly feel tempted to give points to our opponents. In the attempt to establish their case, they
make so many false assumptions, that, if we make them a present of one, they
are under no less difficulty when they come to the next step in the argument. But it is not as a mere matter of generosity
that I refrain from pressing to the utmost the victory we have gained on the
abstract question. Men are not
influenced by mere logic, they will easily believe what they wish to believe,
whether there be logical proof of it or not.
Accordingly, you will seldom find in Romish books of
controversy any of that discussion which has occupied us so long, and which
really concerns the fundamental point in the controversy. It would be so very pleasant to have a guide
able to save us all trouble and risk, and to whom we might implicitly commit
ourselves, that Romish advocates generally spare themselves the pains of
proving that such a guide exists, and prefer to take that for granted as a
thing self-evident. The older books on
controversy, assuming that there was somewhere an infallible Church, and that
the only question was where she was to be found, occupied much space in telling
of marks or notes by which the true
Church could be distinguished from false pretenders. On this much discussion on the ‘notes of the Church’ ensued, it
being easy to show that several of the notes enumerated by Bellarmine are
possessed by bodies which no one can imagine to be the true Church, while it is
extremely disputable whether the Church of Rome possesses those notes to which
we should be willing to attribute most value.
But in the actual history of perversions to Romanism this part of the
discussion has usually been skipped; and thus the proof has been simplified
into. There is an infallible Church
somewhere, and no Church but that of Rome can claim the attribute.’
Now, although of the two propositions ‘The Church of Rome is
infallible’; ‘Other Churches are not’ the former is the one we deny, while we
admit the latter—Romish advocates seldom offer any proof of the former, and spend
all their declamation on the latter.
They tell of errors committed by other communions, of theological
problems wrongly solved, or of which no certain solution can be given, in the
hope that the hearer, perplexed by so much uncertainty, may gladly accept
offered guidance without scrutinizing its claims too minutely. It is so natural to wish to have an
infallible guide, that men are found well disposed to give credence to the
agreeable intelligence that such a guide exists.
Now, to persons in this frame of mind, it is not enough to show
that there is no reason to think that God has provided such a guide. The possibility still remains that He may have done so. We all believe in a miraculous revelation,
through which God has done something for His creatures over and above His
ordinary course of dealing with them.
Shall we put limits on His bounty, or deny the possibility that He may
have made the way to religious truth as secure as the most exacting can demand?
It is necessary, therefore, to quit the region of abstract
discussion. But it is always unsafe to
neglect to compare a theory with facts.
When we attempt to decide on God’s dealings by our own notions of the
fitness of things, and venture to pronounce beforehand what sort of supernatural
guidance He would provide for us, the most sanguine theorist has no right to
imagine that he can get beyond a probable conclusion; and he is bound to
examine whether, in point of fact, God has
provided such guidance. The line
taken by Romish advocates reminds me of what Cervantes tells of the course
taken by Don Quixote in the manufacture of his helmet. The good knight, having constructed one
which he thought admirable, proceeded to test its strength; and in a moment, by
one stroke of his sword, demolished the labour of a week. So he made a new one; but as it would be
very unpleasant to have one of not sufficient strength, he this time satisfied
himself by pronouncing his workmanship to be strong enough, without trying any
imprudent experiments with his sword. I
feel it, therefore, to be not enough that Romish advocates should tell us of
the failures of others, if they do not submit to some examination what they
offer as superior; and I am persuaded, as I have said, that the true result of
such an examination is that, whether or not there be anywhere an infallible
Church, the Church of Rome certainly is not.
But it may be asked, How is it possible to give proof that the
Church of Rome has erred, as long as the question of her possible infallibility
is left open? If we pronounce any
decision of hers to be erroneous, we may be told that it is she who is in the
right, and that we are wrong. To recur to
an illustration which I formerly employed: we engage a professional guide to conduct
us over a pass we have never crossed before, and how can we be able before the
journey is ended to convict him of leading us wrong? The path he takes may, to our eyes, be unpromising and quite
unlike what we should ourselves have chosen; but if we hesitate, he can smile
at our opposing our ignorance to his superior knowledge, and can assure us that
at our journey’s end we shall find him to have been in the right. Yet it might happen in such a case that even
before the journey was over we should have good reason to conclude that our
guide did not understand his business.
Suppose that whenever we came to a place where two paths diverged, the
guide hung back, and, as long as we were hesitating, carefully abstained from
giving any hint of his opinion as to which was the right one; but when we had
made our choice, and had struck into one of the paths, then overtook us, and
assured us we were all right, should we not have a right to suspect him of
ignorance of his business, and think that but for the honour and glory of the
thing, we might as well have had no guide at all? Suppose, too, that after we
had taken a path under the encouragement and, as we believed, with the full
approbation of our guide, we found ourselves stopped by an impassable morass, should
we think it a satisfactory explanation to be told by our guide, as we were
retracing our steps, that approbation of this unlucky path had been expressed
by him merely conversationally, in his private, not his professional, capacity?
I think it admits of historical proof that the Church of Rome
has shrunk with the greatest timidity from exercising this gift of
infallibility on any question which had not already settled itself without her
help, and that on several occasions, where the Pope has ventured to make
decisions, these decisions are now known to have been wrong, and the case has
to be met by pitiable evasions. The
Pope was not speaking ex cathedra; that
is to say, he had guided the Church wrong only in his private, not his
professional, capacity.
Let us examine, then, by the evidence of facts, whether the Church of
Rome believes her own claim to infallibility.
Acting is the test of belief. If
a quack claimed to have a universal medicine, warranted to cure all diseases,
we should not need to inquire into the proofs of its virtues if we saw his own
children languishing in sickness, and found that he never tried his medicine on
them. If an alchemist asserted that he
possessed the philosopher’s stone, and could turn the baser metals into gold,
his pretensions would be disposed of if we saw his own family starving, and
that he made no attempt to make any gold to relieve them. So when we find in the bosom of the Church
of Rome disputes and perplexities, as in other Churches; that the infallible
authority is not invoked to solve them; that its interference is late and
vacillating, and sometimes erroneous, have we not a right to conclude that the
Church of Rome herself does not believe in the infallibility which she claims? 1
But really, I must first say a few words on the question, Does
she claim it? Some of you may chance to
have met a book by a Mr. Seymour, called Mornings
with the Jesuits, in which the author gives his own report of conferences
which he held with the Jesuit Fathers at Rome, who unsuccessfully attempted his
conversion. On one occasion they used
the syllogism, A Church which does not claim infallibility can not be a true
Church: the Church of England does not claim infallibility, therefore cannot be
a true Church. They expected him, of
course, to deny the major, and were prepared to carry on the controversy
accordingly; but Mr. Seymour handed them back their syllogism with the word
‘England’ erased, and ‘Rome’ substituted.
He asked them for proof that the Church of Rome ever claimed
infallibility. Of course I allow,’ he
said, ‘that individual theologians ascribe to her this attribute, but prove to
me that she has ever ascribed it to herself in any authoritative document.’2
I own I was not without suspicion
that Mr. Seymour had dressed up his tale a little when he described the
consternation and perplexity into which the Jesuits were thrown by his
assertion that the Trent decrees contained no claim to infallibility. But it so happened that in the course of
events the Jesuits were expelled from Rome, and one of Mr. Seymour’s two
antagonists came to England, where Mr. Capes made his acquaintance. He describes him as a most fair-minded and
honest man, and an excellent specimen of a well-instructed Jesuit, as might
have been expected from his having been chosen to argue with a controversial
English clergyman on a visit to Rome.
And he told Mr. Capes that it was quite true that he had never taken
notice of the absence of the claim from the Trent decrees until it was pointed
out to him in this discussion. Mr.
Ffoulkes also, another who, like Mr. Capes, made the journey to Rome and back,
states that he was never asked to accept this doctrine when he joined the
Church of Rome, and that if he had been asked he would perhaps not have joined
her. All he was required to admit was
the supremacy of the Roman See, ‘Sanctam
Catholicam et Apostolicam Romanam ecclesiam omnium ecclesiarum matrem et
magistram agnosco.’ I will not
anticipate discussions that may hereafter come before us, by examining what
exactly these words mean, or whether anything else in a formal document of the
Roman Church amounts to a claim of infallibility. For practically the Church of Rome at the present day certainly
does claim infallibility. The arrogance
of her language admits of no other interpretation. And therefore I do not class this question with the others I am
about to bring under your notice, in which the Roman trumpet gives an uncertain
sound. If the doctrine of Infallibility
were much insisted on in sermons by Roman Catholic preachers, but if their
controversialists shrank from defending it against Protestants; if they treated
it as one of those things not de fide, which
were asserted by vehement and hot-headed theologians, but which the calm voice
of the Church had abstained from pronouncing on, then we might taunt the professed guide with being unable to tell
us the extent of his powers; but at present it is quite unjust to accuse him of
any modest reticence as to the extent of his prerogatives. We must rather make a different use of the
absence of any definition of this cardinal doctrine. It shows that the practice came first, the theory came afterwards
if indeed it can even yet be said to be quite come. Arrogant Pontiffs presumed to act as if they were infallible, and
the necessity of justifying their conduct demands a theory that they really are
so; but the lateness of the theory, which even yet is not included in the
formula that converts must prescribe, is proof enough that from the beginning it
was not so.
I may, however, say a few words now, though I shall have to
speak more fully on the subject by-and-by, about the disputes which have raged
within the Roman communion for centuries, and which were only in our own time
cleared up, and then only partially, as to the organ of the Church’s
infallibility. Does the gift reside in
the Church diffusive, or only in its head, or in a general council, or in Pope
and council together? The existence of
controversy on such a subject is in itself demonstration of the unreality of
the gift. If Christ had appointed an
infallible tribunal, His Church would have resorted to it from the first; the
tradition where it was to be found could never have been lost, nor could this
have given rise to one of the most angry controversies in the Church. To recur to our old illustration: suppose we
boasted that Dublin was not as other cities, where the cure of diseases was
precarious; that we had an infallible
authority, whence we could learn, without risk of error, the certain cure of
every disease. Suppose that an invalid
stranger, attracted to our city by our vaunts, inquired on his arrival whom he
was to consult? ‘The President of the
College of Physicians,’ says one; ‘it is he who possesses the wonderful
gift.’ ‘Nay, says a second; ‘he may
make mistakes; it is in the council of the College that the gift resides.’ ‘Not so,’ says a third; ‘either separately
may go wrong; but if you can get both to agree, you are sure of being rightly
advised.’ ‘No,’ cries a fourth; ‘president
or council may blunder separately or together; the gift belongs to the whole
medical profession of Dublin: it is true, they wrangle at times among
themselves, but they always manage to settle their disputes at last, and
whatever remedies they unanimously adopt in the end are certain to be
effectual.’ Surely, when the stranger
heard this disagreement, he would conclude without further inquiry, that he had
been taken in by lying tales; that we were, in truth, no better off in respect
of medical science than other cities, and that he might just as well travel
back to his own physicians.
Accordingly, it was this disagreement as to the organ of
infallibility which was the last stumbling-block to Dr. Newman on his journey
to Rome. In the last book of his
Anglican days, published not so very long before his formal surrender, in
language which, in spite of its show of hostility, plainly betrays the
attraction that Rome was exercising over him, he says: ‘This inconsistency in
the Romish system one might almost call providential. Nothing could be better adapted than it is to defeat the devices
of human wisdom, and to show to thoughtful inquirers the hollowness of even the
most specious counterfeit of Divine truth.
The theologians of Rome have been able dexterously to smooth over a
thousand inconsistencies, and to array the heterogeneous precedents of
centuries in the semblance of design and harmony. But they cannot complete the system in its most important and essential
point. They can determine in theory the
nature, degree, extent, and object of the infallibility which they claim, but
they cannot agree among themselves where it resides. As in the building of Babel, the Lord has confounded their
language, and the structure remains half finished, a monument at once of human
daring and its failure.’ (Prophetical Office of the Church, p.180.)
But you may ask, Is not the controversy over now? Did not the Pope, at the Vatican Council of
1870, bear witness to himself, and declare that every theory was wrong which
made the organ of infallibility other than himself? But what time of day is this to find the answer to a question so
fundamental? Can we believe that Christ
before He left this earth provided His Church with an infallible guide to
truth, and that it took her more than 1800 years before she could find out who
that guide was? It seems almost labour
wasted to proceed with the proofs I was about to lay before you, of the neglect
or inability of the infallible judge of controversies to settle controversies,
when it took him so long to settle that controversy in which his own privileges
were so vitally concerned.
Let me trace, however, something of the history of that other
dispute which, after it had raged for centuries, Pius IX. undertook to settle;
the question about the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin Mary. In a future lecture, either this Term or the
next, I mean to give you an explanation of this doctrine, which will make you
acquainted with some of the most thorny speculations of scholastic
theology. What I am at present
concerned with is only the history of the doctrine, taken as a specimen history
of a dispute within the Church of Rome.
The history of a dispute is the best evidence as to what authority for
settling disputes the disputants believe in.
When I speak of authority for settling disputes, it is well to
remind you of a little ambiguity about this word authority. We might mean the authority of superior
knowledge, or merely of official position.
Any judge may have authority to decide a question of law, in the sense
that his decision will bind the parties, and that they must submit to it; but
there are some judges who, on account of their knowledge and ability, rank as
legal authorities, and have set precedents from which their successors differ
with reluctance; while, in this sense of the word, other judges are of no
authority at all. Now everyone will
grant to the Pope the authority of official position. He has power to declare the doctrine of his Church, to depose any
ecclesiastic who rejects his decision, or even to excommunicate any lay person
who opposes himself to it. But we might
say as much for the Synod of the Church of Ireland. It, too, can declare the doctrine of that Church, and can make
the acceptance of that doctrine a condition of clerical or lay communion. But now there is this difference between
these two kinds of authority, that the interference of the authority of
confessed superior knowledge is welcomed and willingly submitted to, while it
is often just the reverse with the other kind of authority. If two of you were disputing on a subject of
which you had little knowledge; suppose, for instance, that you knew nothing of
anatomy, and that you had a difference of opinion how many ribs a man has; if a
skilled anatomist were present, you would dispute no longer, but ask him; and
then the dispute would be at an end.
There has been long and warm controversy as to the authorship of the
letters of Junius. Suppose a sealed
volume was discovered, to which the author had committed his secret, people
would not refuse to break the seal because they had misgivings whether their
own theory were the true one. All
parties would say, let us know the truth; and when the truth was known the
controversy would be at an end.
It is quite the reverse when the interference is on the part of
the authority, not of knowledge, but of official position. Then those who are likely to get the worst
deprecate interference; they threaten not to submit to the decision, and the fear
of such a refusal of submission is apt to inspire great caution in the
authority whose interference might be solicited. If it were proposed that the General Synod should make a new
decision of doctrine condemning the views now held by some members of the
Church, I can tell from experience what would be likely to occur. Those who felt themselves to be in a
minority would struggle that the Synod should abstain from making any decision
on the question; they would threaten to leave the Church if their views were
condemned; and then a number of cautious moderate men, thinking the evils of a
schism greater than those of the toleration of opinions from which they
themselves dissented, would join the minority in preventing any decision from
being pronounced.
Remember this distinction, for it will serve as a test guide in
your study of history. If you are fully
persuaded that a man on any subject knows a great deal more than yourself, you
do not want to stop his mouth. The more
he speaks the better you are pleased, and you willingly give up your own
previous opinion when he tells you it is wrong. It is quite different when a man who is your superior in
authority wants to interfere with your opinions on a subject which you believe
he knows no more of than yourself. Then
you want him to hold his tongue. If he
does speak, you, perhaps, refuse to listen to him, and if he sees that you are
likely not to be afraid to make your dissent public, then, if he wants his
authority to be respected, he will probably have the good sense to discover
that to hold his tongue is the most discreet course. You may test in this way whether the Church of Rome believes in
her own infallibility. Do the members
of that Church show that they believe they have got an infallible guide, who on
things of faith knows much better than themselves; and do they accordingly,
when they have a theological problem, meekly come to him to be told the
solution of it, or do they work out the problem for themselves, and merely
invoke the higher authority to reduce their opponents to submission? And does the higher authority himself speak
with the confidence of superior knowledge, or rather, with the caution of one
who knows that his subjects would not believe him if he pronounced their
opinions to be wrong, and who must take care not to strain his authority too
far, lest he should cause a revolt?
Examine the history of any dispute in the Roman communion, and you will
find that the heads of the Roman Church act exactly as the leading members of
the Synod of the Church of Ireland would act in a like case, neither showing
any belief in their own infallibility themselves, nor any expectation that
their followers would believe it; proscribing only such opinions as had become
offensive to the great majority of their body, but restrained by a wholesome
fear of schism from straining their authority too far.
I take, as I have said, the history of the doctrine of the
Immaculate Conception as a typical case.
From the beginning of the fourteenth century vehement disputes on this
subject had been carried on, the leading parts being taken by two powerful
Orders; the Dominicans, following their great doctor, Thomas Aquinas, holding
that, though cleansed from original sin before her birth, Mary had been conceived
in sin like others; the Franciscans, after their great teacher, Scotus,
exempting her from the stain by a special act of God’s power. The Dominicans went so far as to accuse the
assertors of the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception of heresy, and even charged
with mortal sin those who attended the Office of the Immaculate Conception,
although that Office had been authorized by papal sanction; and they charged
with sin also those who listened to the sermons in which the doctrine was
preached. The annual recurrence of the
Feast of the Conception was a signal for the renewal of hostilities, and gave
birth every year to scenes of the most scandalous kind. All this time private Christians, puzzled by
the most opposite statements of learned men on both sides, must have looked
eagerly to the infallible guide, in hopes to learn from him the true doctrine
which they were to believe. But the
judge was silent. He trimmed and
wavered between both parties, and sought to make peace between them, without
giving a triumph to either. The
strongest step was taken by Sixtus IV., who, though himself a Franciscan, did
not venture to declare that the doctrine taught by his own school was true; but
who, in 1483, published a brief, in which he condemned those who said that it
was a heresy, or that it could not be taught without mortal sin. Would the most ignorant layman have acted
differently, if he had the misfortune to be governor of a body divided into two
powerful parties, and were called on to pronounce a decision between them on a
subject he knew nothing about? What
better could he do than postpone his decision sine die, and meanwhile condemn the extreme of either party if they
used insulting language toward the other?
At length came the Council of Trent, in the course of which it
became necessary to draw up an Article on original sin. It seemed then hardly possible to evade the
question; for either it must be stated generally that all men are subject to
this infection, and then the matter would be decided in favour of the
Dominicans; or else the desire of the Franciscans should be complied with, that
special mention should be made of the Virgin Mary, exempting her from the
plague spot of the human race. On this,
naturally, a violent dispute arose.
When the dispute was made known at Rome, instead of embracing the
opportunity of declaring by infallible authority the true doctrine on this
subject, orders were given to the Papal Legates at Trent to reconcile the
contending parties as far as possible, without giving a triumph to either. The directions were, not to meddle with this
matter, which might cause a schism among Catholics; to endeavour to maintain
peace between the opposing parties, and to seek some means of giving them equal
satisfaction; above all, to observe strictly the brief of Pope Sixtus IV.,
which forbad preachers to charge the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception with
heresy. And in accordance with these
instructions the decree of the Council was drawn up. The controversy was named; it was declared that the Council left
the matter undetermined, and renewed the brief of Sixtus IV.
This course was, no doubt, under the circumstances, eminently
wise and prudent; for it had become plain that, whatever else the parties
disagreed in, they agreed in this, that each preferred no decision at all
rather than a decision adverse to his own views. But is it not most clearly proved that the Pope did not believe
in his own pretence to infallibility, else why not take the opportunity of
settling, by the joint authority of Pope and Council an authority which, in
theory, all owned to be infallible a dispute which had so long convulsed the
Church? But to meddle in the
matter—that is to say, to decide the question one way or other might cause a
schism among Catholic; in other words these ‘Catholics,’ whatever they might
pretend, did not really believe in the infallibility of the Pope and the
Council. Nay, I am putting the matter
too weakly; for we do not set up our own opinion against that of an expert on
any subject, even though we know that he is far from claiming infallibility;
but these ‘Catholics’ must really have thought that Pope and Council knew no
better than themselves. Why should
there be danger of a schism after the truth had been ascertained by infallible authority? Surely, no person could be mad enough to
separate himself from the Church of Christ in consequence of a decision which
he believed to be infallibly true, and to have emanated from a
divinely-promised and infallible guidance.
The only way of accounting for the conduct of the Pope and of the
Council on this occasion is, that
neither one nor other believed in the pretence of infallibility. For, as I said, acting is the test of faith;
and here the Pope acts as any prudent, well-advised sovereign would act under
similar circumstances, endeavouring to avoid a decision that must irritate one
party or other, and trying to conciliate both as well as he could. Although he speaks loudly and boldly before
the world of his infallible authority, and of the great blessing of being in a
Church which possesses an infallible tribunal for settling all disputes, yet he
acts as one who was fully aware that there was no such tribunal, and as knowing
also that his ‘Catholics’ believed nothing of the sort, and would run into
schism rather than submit to the pretended authority of his infallibility, if
it happened to run counter to their own private opinions. It is impossible to have clearer proof than
this that the Roman communion does not practically believe in its own claim to
infallibility. The guide will not
venture to strike into one of two doubtful paths until those whom he is
conducting have already made their choice, and that because he knows that,
though professing to believe in his infallible wisdom, they will not follow him
if he should happen not to take the path which they prefer.
There remained, however, one way of accounting for the silence of the
Pope and the Council which might save their infallibility; namely, that this
particular subject was one on which it had pleased God to make no revelation,
and therefore that in the judgment of Pope and Council either view might be
innocently held. This view was
naturally taken by the Roman Catholics of the last generation. Bishop Milner, for instance, says ‘The
Church does not decide the controversy concerning the Conception of the Blessed
Virgin, and several other disputed points, because she sees nothing clear and
certain concerning them either in the written or unwritten Word, and therefore
leaves her children to form their own opinions concerning them.’ But Pius IX. made it impossible any longer
to give this explanation of the silence of his predecessors.
In process of time the whole controversy died away. Franciscans and Dominicans ceased to accuse
each other of heresy or mortal sin, and so then was the time that the
infallible tribunal ventured to speak; and in my own time (8th December, 1854)
the Pope proclaimed that the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception was true,
and moreover that the Church had always held it. Certainly in this case the Church carried the ‘disciplina arcani’ to an immoderate
extreme, since neither Bellarmine nor Milner, nor many other Roman Catholic
divines whom I could name, were aware that the Church had any tradition on the
subject. But if she had, how are we to
excuse Pope Sixtus, or the Council of Trent, who, instead of making known the
tradition at the time when the knowledge of it would have done good in healing
the violent dissensions which raged between members of the Church, kept silence
until people had ceased to feel much interest in the controversy?
And even then there were those who said it was too soon for the
Pope to speak. The Pope did not make
his decree without first taking advice, and you will find in the Library the
answers he got from the bishops of Christendom. Among these, both some of the most eminent of the French bishops,
and our Irish professors at Maynooth, declared, not by any means their
disbelief in the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, but their opinion of
the inexpedience of defining it by authority.
As I have already said, when the interference is not that of superior
know ledge, but only that of higher authority, cautious men will consider not
only the truth of what they are asked to affirm, but also the prudence of
enforcing conformity to it; and so at our own Synod many have voted against
putting forth as the doctrine of the Church what they themselves believed to be
true. In this case, those who
pronounced the decision of the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception to be
inopportune, did not say in their own names that it was an addition to the
ancient faith of the Church; but they said that Anglican divines would be sure
to say so, and would accuse the Roman Church of having broken with her ancient
rule, and of now teaching something which had not been taught, ‘semper, ubique et ab omnibus.’ Thus an obstacle would be placed in the way
of their conversion, and quite gratuitously, since there was at the time no
controversy on the subject which there was any need of appeasing.
However much we may believe in the sincerity of those who on this
occasion declared that they did not deny the truth of the doctrine, but only
the opportuneness of declaring it, it is hard to believe equally in the
sincerity of those who some years later raised the question of opportuneness,
when it was proposed to define the dogma of the Pope’s personal
infallibility. Actually to deny a
doctrine which an influential Pontiff showed it was his most anxious desire to
have affirmed would be too invidious, and so the lower ground was taken by a
great majority; and they fought a half-hearted battle, disputing not the truth
of the doctrine, but only the expedience of declaring it. I must say that, to my mind, all this
controversy about opportunism shows distrust in the infallibility of their
guide. It is always opportune to learn
something you did not know before, if you have got hold of a person competent
to inform you. What is inopportune is
that a man should propound his views without necessity to an audience
disinclined to receive them; and the fact that Pope and Councils very often
have found it inopportune to make dogmatic definitions is proof enough how
little their own Church believed in their power to do so.
I could give other illustrations in plenty of the wise timidity
of the infallible authority in declining to solve disputed questions. For instance, at Trent there was another
question left unsettled besides that about the Immaculate Conception. A question arose whether bishops have their
jurisdiction directly by divine right, or whether they only derive it from the
Pope; but after hot disputes it was found expedient to drop the
controversy. You will find in Burnet’s
Commentary on the seventeenth Article a notice of another controversy, which
the Pope neglected to determine, though asked to do so. I refer to controversies between the
Dominicans and the Jesuits at the very end of the sixteenth century. The matter in dispute belonged to the class
of subjects debated between Calvinists and Arminians. The Jesuits, who took what we may call the Arminian side, were
accused of Pelagianism by the Dominicans, who followed the Augustinian teaching
of their great doctor, Thomas Aquinas.
In 1594 the Pope undertook
the decision of the question. Here we
have the very case to meet, which one might suppose the gift of infallibility
had been conferred: hot controversy in the Church terminated by a resort of both
parties to the infallible authority for guidance. Of course it was not to be expected that the Pope should
determine so great a question hastily.
He appointed committees of theologians to examine the arguments on both
sides, known as the celebrated congregations de auxiliis, the subject of their inquiries being the help of
divine grace bestowed by God on man. I
will not weary you with the history of the delays of the investigation: suffice
it to say, that after going on some twenty years no result was arrived at. And, politically, this was the wisest
course. For if a decision were made, it
must of necessity give offence to one or other of two powerful parties
supported, the one by the King of Spain, the other by the King of France; and
there was quite a possibility that the rejected party might refuse to submit,
and even pronounce the Pope himself heretical.3 But would there be
any such danger if the parties to the dispute believed in the Pope’s
infallibility, or if he believed in it himself? If Christ Himself appeared upon earth, we should be glad to
obtain from Him an authoritative solution of any of our religious
controversies, and we should not dream of stopping His mouth lest his decision
should be opposed to our prepossessions.
So, though these men profess to believe that the Pope, as a guide to
truth, fills the place of Christ on earth, their conduct proves that they do
not believe what they say. And the
Pope’s own conduct shows that he felt himself not in the position of a judge
authorized to pronounce a decision to which all parties must submit, but only
in that of the common friend of two angry disputants, in favour of neither of
whom he dare plainly declare himself on pain of losing the friendship of the
other.
In other words, every time the Pope has thought of making a
dogmatic decision, he has had to make a prudential calculation of the danger of
provoking a schism; and on the occasion of his last definition a schism, as you
know, was actually made. But fear on
his part of secession shows mutual want of faith in Roman pretensions. For who would punish himself by seceding
from the only authorized channel of divine communications? Who would refuse to believe anything if it
was declared to him by God Himself, or by one who, he was quite sure, had authority
to speak in God’s name? Lord Bacon
tells a story of a wise old man who got a great reputation for his success in
settling disputes. When privately asked
by a friend to explain the secret of his success, he told him it was because he
made it a rule to himself never to interfere until the parties had completely
talked themselves out, and were glad to get peace on any terms. That was just the way in which the Pope
settled the controversy about the Immaculate Conception, by carefully holding
his tongue until the dispute was practically over.
FOOTNOTES
1 In this and in the
following Lecture I have made considerable use of a tract by Dr. Maurice,
reprinted in ‘Gibson’s Preservative’: Doubts
concerning Roman Infallibility: (1) whether
the Church of Rome believe it. In
writing the Lecture I used Dr. Maurice’s tract in the form in which it was
modernized by the late Dr.Todd. (Irish
Ecclesiastical Journal, December, 1851.)
2 The absence of the claim from the creed of Pope Pius IV. was noticed
also by Dr. Newman. (Prophetical
Office of the Church, p. 61.)
3 It is worth while to
add a few words as to the part taken in this controversy by the great Jesuit,
Bellarmine. The controversy arose out
of the publication by a Jesuit Professor, Molina, of a book which the
Dominicans accused of semi-Pelagianism, and the authoritative condemnation of
which they were anxious to obtain. Now,
though Bellarmine and other leading Jesuits were unwilling to commit themselves
to an approval of all Molina’s doctrine, they considered that the condemnation
of his book would be a great slur on their Order; and though the condemnation
appeared more than once to be on the point of issuing, the Jesuits exercised
obstruction so vigorously, that their opposition was in the end
successful. It is amusing to read in
Cardinal Bellarmine’s autobiography how he bullied the poor Pope, Clement
VIII., whose own opinion was adverse to Molina. ‘You are no theologian,’ he said, ‘and you must not think that by
your own study you can come to understand so very obscure a question.’ ‘I mean to decide the question,’ said the
Pope. ‘Your Holiness will not decide it,’ retorted the Cardinal. There is extant a letter, written after the
Congregation appointed by the Pope to examine the matter had reported adversely
to Molina, and when he was supposed to be about to act on that report, in which
Bellarmine urges that the Pope should not act without first calling a council
of Bishops, or at least summoning learned men from the Universities. If he acted otherwise, though men would be
bound to obey his decree, there would be great murmuring and complaints on the
part of the Church and the Universities that they had not been properly
consulted. That the Pope should attempt
to study the question for himself was a very tedious and unsatisfactory method,
and not that which had been followed by his predecessors. Did Leo X. trouble himself with study when
he condemned the Lutheran heretics? He
just confirmed the conclusions arrived at by the Catholic Universities of
Cologne and Louvain. Paul IV., Julius
III., Pius IV., were no students; yet, with the help of the Council of Trent,
they declared most important truths.
See, on the other hand, what scrapes John XXII. got into when he
endeavoured to promulgate the views concerning the Beatific Vision, to which
his own study had led him. See into
what danger Sixtus V. brought himself and the whole Church one of the greatest
dangers the Church was ever in when he attempted to correct the Bible according
to his own knowledge. And the Pope must
be careful not to give occasion to anyone to think that he had made up his own
mind before the question had been scientifically investigated. Why he had said things to Bellarmine
himself, which had made him resolve to withdraw, and treat no more of the
question. If such a one as he lost
courage, who had been studying these subjects for thirty years, what would
others do? (Selbstbiographie des Cordinals Bellarmin. Bonn 1887, p. 260.) There could not be a better illustration how
ill the authority of official position fares when it comes into collision with
the authority of superior knowledge.
7
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. [October 1888]
THIS
volume, like that already published under the title of 'An Introduction to the New Testament,'
contains lectures delivered in the ordinary course of instruction to my class
in the Divinity School of the Dublin University. The character of the audience addressed in such lectures renders
necessary a mode of treatment different from that which would be suitable in a
work originally intended for publication.
A lecture does not aim at that completeness which is demanded by the
purchaser of a book, who expects to find in it alt the information he needs on
the subject with which it deals, and who objects to be sent to look for it
elsewhere. The teacher of a class of
intelligent young men cannot but feel that the knowledge which he can hope to
communicate to them directly is insignificant in comparison with what they will
acquire by their own reading, if he can only interest them in the study. He has no wish to save them the trouble of
reading books, but thinks it would be waste of time to spend much in telling
them what they are likely to read for themselves elsewhere. It is not his duty to write a new book for
their use if he can refer them to sources whence the same information can be
satisfactorily obtained. And he
naturally adopts a colloquial style as best adapted for retaining the attention
of the hearers of a long viva voce lecture.
On account of the differences I have
indicated, I had not thought my lectures suitable for publication in their
actual form, though I at times entertained intentions of writing theological works
for which these lectures might supply materials. But time went on without my finding or making leisure to carry
any of my contemplated projects into execution; until, three or four years ago,
I found reason to consider the possibility that if I were to die, leaving
lectures behind me, the pious zeal of some of my friends might cause them to be
published posthumously. I felt that if
any of my lectures were to be printed, I should much prefer that it were done before
they were quite out of date, and while they could have the benefit of my own
revision. So I determined to try the
experiment of printing some of them; and I selected those on the New Testament,
as being on the subject most likely to be generally interesting. Having found by experience that there was no
likelihood of my casting my lectures into any different form, I sent them to be
printed just as they were, though in the course of their passing through the
press, I found so many points omitted, or imperfectly treated, that I was led
to make additions which considerably increased the bulk of the volume.
The favourable reception which that volume
has met with has encouraged me to print another series of lectures. For the reasons stated in the Introductory
Lecture, I do not expect the subject to be so generally interesting as that of
the former volume; and yet I have in the same lecture, given reasons for
considering the investigation to be one that ought not to be neglected. But I frankly confess that I have had more
pleasure in that part of my professorial work which engaged me in the defence
of truths held in common by all who love our Blessed Lord, than when it was my
duty to discuss points on which Christians differ among themselves. It has, however, been a pleasant thought to
me, that in the present series of lectures I was doing what in me lay to remove
what is now the greatest obstacle to the union of Christians. There is, I think, abundant evidence that at
the present day thee pressure of the conflict with unbelief is drawing Christians
closer together. When we regard the
state of mutual feeling between members of the Anglican Church on the one hand,
and on the other the Greek Church, or the German Old Catholics, or the Scotch
Presbyterians, or the Scandinavian Churches, I think we can discern in all
cases a growing sense that there are things in which we all agree, more
important than the things on which we differ.
And the prospect is not altogether unhopefuI that, by further
discussions and mutual explanations, such an approximation of opinion might be
arrived at that there would be at least no bar to intercommunion. But as the Roman Church is at present
disposed, there can be no union with her except on the terms of absolute
submission; that submission, moreover, involving an acknowledgement that we
from our hearts believe things to be true which we have good reasons for
knowing to be false. The nature of the
claims of Rome clearly shuts out that possibility of reconciliation in her case
which may be hoped for in other cases from retractions or mutual explanations;
so that, by every effort to bring about the withdrawal of these claims, we are
doing something to remove the main obstacle to the reunion of Christendom.
I am not so silly as to imagine that any
perceptible effect can follow from adding one to the many demonstrations that
have been given that the claims of which I speak are unfounded. But no false opinion can resist for ever the
continual dropping of repeated disproofs.
We may point out instance after instance in which papal authority has
been given to decisions now known to be erroneous, and in each case some
ingenious attempt may be made to show that the attribute of infallibility did
not attach to the erroneous decision; but sooner or later men must awake to see
that the result of all this special pleading is that, whereas they expected to
find a guide who would always lead them right, they have got instead a guide
who can find some plausible excuse to make every time he leads them wrong. I do not think it absolutely impossible
that, under the pressure of historical disproof, some such modification of the
theory of Roman Infallibility may eventually be made as wilt amount to a
practical withdrawal of it. The theory
of Development, which has now found extensive acceptance in the Roman
Communion, involves the belief that the Church of the present day is, in some
respects, wiser than the Church of earlier times. When that theory has been itself a little further developed, it
may be found to give the Church the right to review the decisions of earlier
times, and to abandon claims formerly made, but which experience has shown to
be untenable.
In the present series of lectures I have
not entered into the details of the controversy with Roman Catholics. I was able to refer my class to many good
books which have been written on the subject.
But arguments are useless if addressed to those who profess to be above
argument. As the controversy is
conducted at the present day, everything turns on the power claimed for the
Pope of determining and declaring without any attempt to produce evidence, what
are or are not Apostolic traditions.
There really is but one question to be settled: Are we bound to receive
undoubtingly the Pope's unproved assertions, without any attempt to test by
argument whether they are true or not?
He may declare in words that he has no commission to make revelation of
new doctrine, but only to hand down faithfully the revelation made through the
Apostles; but what does that avail if we are bound to take his word whether a
doctrine be new or not? He may propound
a doctrine such as that of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin,
which it is certain that the Church for centuries never regarded as part of the
revelation made through the Apostles, and it is held that we are bound not only
to believe that doctrine to be true, but also to believe, on the Pope's authority, that it is old.
These lectures were not written for Roman
Catholics; and I do not expect them to fall into the hands of any, except of
those who deal in controversy, and who, perhaps, may take up the volume in
order to see if it contains anything that needs to be answered. If any such there should be, I beg of them
to remember that they are overhearing what members of another communion say
when they are quite by themselves, and, therefore, that they must not be
offended if they meet the proverbial fate of listeners in hearing some things
not complimentary. If they should think
that I have not done justice to their side of the question in the view I have
presented of it, I earnestly request them to believe that my error has been
involuntary; that it has been my desire to know and to report fairly the
strongest arguments that can be used in defence of the Roman claims; and that
if there be stronger than those which I have attempted to answer, my omission
arises either from ignorance of them, or because the constitution of my
intellect is such that I could see no force in them.
With regard to the manner in which I have
expressed myself, it is possible they may object to my habitual use of the term
Romanists to denote the members of their Church. In the older Church of England books of controversy the word
commonly used was 'Papists,' and the religion was called ‘Popery.’ In modern times the word Papist is supposed
to be offensive, though I do not know why men should be ashamed of being called
after the Pope, who give him now even a more prominent place in their religious
system than he held three hundred years ago.
I have, however, avoided using a term which, whether rightly or wrongly,
is imagined to be offensive, though I suspect that the real reason for
objecting to it is a desire to be known by no other name than ‘Catholics.’ Protestants who know nothing of theology are
apt freely to concede the appellation, having no other idea connected with it
than that it is the name of a sect; but those who know better feel that it is a
degradation of a noble word to limit it in such a way. And, in truth, if it is possible to convey
insult by a title, what is really insulting is that one section of Christians
should appropriate to themselves the title 'Catholic' as their exclusive right,
and thus, by implication, deny it to others.
This is so obvious that they do not now insist on being called Catholics
pure and simple, and are satisfied if other people will speak of them as Roman
Catholics. It is a compromise which I
am willing to accept in my intercourse with persons of that religion; but I
observe that when they are by themselves they always drop the 'Roman,' and call
themselves ‘Catholics.’ So they have no
cause to be offended if, when we are by ourselves, we drop the 'Catholic' and
call them 'Roman.'
We may fairly object to an inconvenient
periphrasis. If we must not speak of
members of the Roman Church without tacking Catholic to their name, must we not
also, if we claim au equal right in the title, add it to our own name? While, however, we could describe our
brethren in England as Anglo-Catholic, how are those of us who live in Ireland
or Scotland or America to call ourselves?
If any sect—say the Unitarian—were to claim the exclusive title of
Christians, and when this were refused them, should insist, at least, in being
known, not as Unitarians, but as Unitarian Christians, would not that be felt
to be the old claim in disguise, since it would be inconvenient to us to be
obliged to make a similar addition to our own name? What I should understand by a Roman Catholic would be a member of
the Catholic Church whose home was Rome.
A member of the Catholic Church who lived in England would, of
necessity, be an Anglo-Catholic. If he
wanted there to be a Roman Catholic, he would be no Catholic at all, but a
schismatic. To speak honestly, of all
the sects into which Christendom is divided, none appears to me less entitled
to the name Catholic than the Roman.
Firmilian, long ago, thus addressed a former bishop of Rome (and this
great bishop Firmilian must be regarded as expressing the sentiments not only
of the Eastern Church of the third century, but also of St. Cyprian, to whose
translation, no doubt, we owe our knowledge of this letter): 'How great is the
sin of which you have incurred the guilt in cutting yourself off from so many
Christian flocks. For, do not deceive
yourself, it is yourself you have cut off: since he is the real schismatic who
makes himself an apostate from the communion of ecclesiastical unity. While you think that you can cut off all
from your communion, it is yourself whom you cut off from communion with all,' At the present day the
bishop of Rome has broken communion with more than half of Christendom, merely
because it will not yield him an obedience to which he has no just right. To me he appears to have as little claim to
the title Catholic as had the Donatists of old, who, no matter how many bishops
they had in their adherence, were rightly deemed schismatics, because they had
unjustly broken communion with the rest of the Christian world.
I might, however, have conquered my
objection to the name Roman Catholic, if it were not that it seems to draw with
it the word Romancatholicism, one of some abominable words that have been
introduced in our generation. To me,
Catholic' and '-ism' represent ideas which absolutely refuse to coalesce. Roman Catholics hold many doctrines which I
believe to be true and Catholic; but what is meant by Romancatholicism is that
part of the belief of Roman Catholics which is not Catholic, and is not true.
The majority of the lectures in this
volume were written about the year 1870; and as they were not intended for
publication, they contained no references to authorities. This has caused me some inconvenience, as,
since the time these lectures were written, my reading has taken other
directions. I have, however, been able
to supply references to the ancient authorities cited; but I have not thought
it worth while to give the labour necessary to recall what use I have made of
the literature current at the time the lectures were written.
I have to acknowledge the assistance given
me by my friends, Dr. Gwen and Dr. Quarry, who have been kind enough to read
the proofs of this volume; and I have to thank the Rev. W. K. Ormsby for help given me in the
preparation of the Index.