A Come to Jesus Moment
The title Roman but Not Catholic epitomizes three major themes that the book has developed. First, it highlights the exclusivity of the Roman Catholic Church in bringing forth many of its claims. Such affirmations, repeated throughout the centuries, pertain to Rome alone and not to other theological traditions. Examples of this first theme are evident in the following observations: “This Church, constituted and organized as a society in the present world, subsists in (subsistit in) the [Roman] Catholic Church, which is governed by the successor of Peter and by the bishops in communion with him.”1 Here the Roman Catholic Church not only is supposedly a part of a proper succession that goes back to the apostle Peter (giving validity to its orders and sacramental life) but also evidences a proper hierarchical order, with the pope at the apex, that all other Christian communions so obviously lack. Another variation on this theme of exclusivity can be seen in the declaration that Jesus Christ established or founded the Roman Catholic Church—and by implication no other. Indeed, this claim not only was a part of a recent North American TV campaign but also is one that has been repeated by apologists.2 And finally it has been argued by the magisterium that all churches or so-called ecclesiastical communions must be properly related to the bishop of Rome.3 In this thinking only Rome is properly the center. Summing up, then, this first theme underscores that the Roman Catholic Church has authority, powers, and privileges that other Christian communions lack—at least it is so argued.
Second, the title Roman but Not Catholic underscores the separation created by the Roman Catholic Church precisely in making many of its exclusive claims. Thus, in developing a particular ecclesiology predicated upon an apostolic succession of bishops that putatively goes back to the apostle Peter, Rome has looked askance at the ministerial orders of Protestants and has judged them to be deficient, with implications for sacramental life as well. As a result of this ecclesiological move, Rome not only bars Protestants from its Communion table but also forbids its own flock from the sacramental life of a Protestant table. Another variation on this theme of separation is that the magisterium has been invested with such authority, supposedly over the universal church, that it ends up propounding doctrines (such as the immaculate conception) that only Rome itself affirms in their fullness. This too constitutes a separation. And finally, the Roman Catholic Church keeps this division, this disunity, very much alive by arguing that all other theological traditions, Eastern Orthodoxy included, must acknowledge the universal leadership of the bishop of Rome. Ironically enough, what is claimed as a basis of unity for the church—the papacy—actually becomes one of the central reasons for its ongoing division and continuing separation.
Third, Roman but Not Catholic emphasizes the authoritative basis upon which so many Roman Catholics, especially conservative ones, actually build their lives of belief, discipleship, and Christian service. Criticizing Protestants for their affirmation of sola Scriptura and sola fide, Roman Catholic apologists, interestingly enough, have been oblivious to their own “sola” tendencies, which are well developed. They are epitomized in the language of sola Roma and are expressed in dogmatic pronouncements. In other words, the magisterium of the Roman Catholic Church, though it acknowledges the authority of Scripture, has nevertheless made itself such an awesome power—buttressed by appeals to sacred tradition, which itself is given the same reverence as Scripture—that sola Roma quickly becomes the basis, the reason, why many Roman Catholics believe as they do. This too detracts from the genuine catholicity of the church. Recall the language of the Catechism from chapter 3 that touches on this very point: “‘The task of giving an authentic interpretation of the Word of God, whether in its written form or in the form of Tradition, has been entrusted to the living, teaching office of the Church alone. Its authority in this matter is exercised in the name of Jesus Christ.’ This means that the task of interpretation has been entrusted to the bishops in communion with the successor of Peter, the Bishop of Rome.”4 And though the role of the magisterium supposedly consists simply in the interpretation of Scripture, nevertheless that interpretation is virtually all that is heard by those in the pews. Why do you believe as you do? Because the hierarchy says so or because the pope says so. In fact, the magisterium has encouraged this large role, this particular ecclesiology, at every step along the way. Consider once more how The Catechism of the Council of Trent put it much earlier: “This knowledge is nothing else than faith, by virtue of which we hold that as fixed whatsoever the authority of our Holy Mother the Church teaches us to have been revealed by God.”5 Here then is a foundational appeal not to either Scripture, faith, or even the Holy Spirit, but to a particular ecclesiology, the authority of “our Holy Mother the Church,” which is so readily affirmed in practical Roman Catholic life, at least by conservatives and traditionalists.
Death and the Last Things
Now let us raise a question with far-reaching implications and practical consequences: Does the troika of exclusivity, separation, and grounding authority continue to play out on the deathbed itself, as faithful Christians are departing this world? Moreover, is all this teaching, with its distinctions and separations, carried into the next life, into the world to come? To answer these significant and perhaps problematic questions, it is helpful to look at the NT practice of anointing the sick, as found in James 5:14–15 and Mark 6:12–13, and then to compare it with the Roman Catholic sacrament of the same name, hitherto known as extreme unction.
The passage from James reads as follows: “Is anyone among you sick? Let them call the elders of the church to pray over them and anoint them with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up. If they have sinned, they will be forgiven” (5:14–15). Notice the general nature of this grace: “Is anyone among you sick?” If this is the case, then one should call for the elders. Mark’s passage is even more instructive along these lines: “They went out and preached that people should repent. They drove out many demons and anointed many sick people with oil and healed them” (6:12–13). In this second setting, with its strong evangelistic note, it appears that the disciples, whom Jesus sent out two by two, were anointing not the sick of the church but a much more general population: those who had responded to the preaching of the disciples and who were therefore now in a state of repentance. However, what is common in both passages is that the anointing of the sick is a wonderful demonstration of the love and mercy of God toward those in very tangible, bodily need. R. T. France considers such anointing as nothing less than a “symbol of God’s care for . . . restoration.”6
With respect to its own sacramental life, the Roman Catholic Church maintains that the anointing of the sick was instituted by Christ, in light of the passages of James and Mark just cited, and more specifically in terms of the Savior’s command, “Heal the sick!”7 The change from the earlier name of the sacrament, extreme unction, to its present designation, the anointing of the sick, has cleared up some misunderstandings. Earlier some laity mistakenly believed that the sacrament could not be repeated or that such a ritual constitutes the “last rites” of the faithful who are about to depart, in other words, that it was to be the very last ritual performed before death. Indeed, since Rome believes that the Eucharist is the very center of its ecclesiastical life, this sacrament, and not the anointing of the sick, should be the viaticum, food for the journey, and as such the very last one. The Catechism states: “As the sacrament of Christ’s Passover the Eucharist should always be the last sacrament of the earthly journey, the ‘viaticum’ for ‘passing over’ to eternal life.”8 Indeed, in many instances at the deathbed not one but three sacraments are offered to the faithful, in the following order: penance, the anointing of the sick, and finally Eucharist.
Bishops and priests perform this sacrament of gracious unction and in doing so utter the following words only once: “Through this holy anointing may the Lord in his love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit. May the Lord who frees you from sin save you and raise you up.”9 All this language looks as if it could have been drawn from the pages of the NT itself. But when the question is raised, “To whom is this sacrament rightly administered?” once more we encounter the Roman accretions spawned over time by tradition (now in contrast to the graciousness and mercy of the NT rite), through which a particular ecclesiology invariably reigns with its exclusivity and inevitable separation. This troubled narrative, which we have encountered earlier, also plays out at the deathbed itself.
Though some Roman Catholic bloggers10 believe that Vatican II opened up the administration of this particular sacrament to all Christian believers, Protestants included, the basic position taken at this council was actually one of denial as its set point, to which allowances (if a number of conditions were met) could then be made. Admittedly, it would be rare for a Protestant to lack the services of a minister at the deathbed and therefore request anointing by an available Roman Catholic clergy. At any rate, the answer to the question, “Can ‘separated brethren’ receive the sacrament of the anointing of the sick?” is not a simple and straightforward “Yes,” as some would have it. It’s actually far more complicated than that. Vatican II explains: “Where this unity of sacramental faith is deficient, the participation of the separated brethren with Catholics, especially in the sacraments of the Eucharist, penance and anointing of the sick, is forbidden.”11 Remarkably enough, the number of conditions that must be met to receive this sacrament of mercy and grace are different depending upon the particular theological tradition in question. Since Eastern Christians, for example, are separated from the Roman Catholic Church, they cannot receive this sacrament simply as a matter of course unless they “ask of their own accord and have the right dispositions.”12 The requirements for Protestants, however, are far more considerable. Vatican II enumerates them as follows: “The Church can for adequate reasons, allow access to those sacraments to a separated brother. This may be permitted in danger of death or in urgent need (during persecution, in prisons) if the separated brother has no access to a minister of his own communion, and spontaneously asks a Catholic priest for the sacraments—so long as he declares a faith in these sacraments in harmony with that of the Church, and is rightly disposed.”13
Vatican II documents go on to stipulate that in other cases in which there is some doubt as to the proper fulfillment of the conditions above, “the judge of this urgent necessity must be the diocesan bishop or the episcopal conference.”14 This means, then, that Protestants who are dying and who have, for example, spent a life of selfless missionary service to the poor do not receive the balm of the grace and mercy of God on the deathbed but instead are interviewed, and if that doesn’t go well, then they are subject to the judgment of the bishop (if he can even be quickly consulted), and failing that, their “case” is put before the bureaucracy of an episcopal conference. Clearly what should have been a means of grace as well as a demonstration of the love and mercy of God toward genuine, baptized members of the body of Christ—Christian brothers and sisters who are clearly marked by the Holy Spirit—has instead become something remarkably different. Moreover, when Vatican II documents go on to stipulate that “a Catholic in similar circumstances may not ask for these sacraments [such as the anointing of the sick] except from a minister who has been validly ordained,” then such a teaching can only reveal that once again a particular ecclesiology, which itself is dubious and repeatedly challenged by historians, has caused a division, a separation, on the very deathbed itself, where there should have been grace and mercy in abundance.
A Come-to-Jesus Moment
If Protestants and Roman Catholics are separated at the deathbed in a genuine schism of love and mercy—and all of this done not by Protestant choice but by those who adhere to Roman Catholic teaching, the will of the magisterium—then is this division, this schism, to be carried into the future, into the very wedding supper of the Lamb itself? Recall the language of the book of Revelation:
Then I heard what sounded like a great multitude, like the roar of rushing waters and like loud peals of thunder, shouting:
“Hallelujah!
For our Lord God Almighty reigns.
Let us rejoice and be glad
and give him glory!
For the wedding of the Lamb has come,
and his bride has made herself ready.
Fine linen, bright and clean, was given her to wear.”
(Fine linen stands for the righteous acts of God’s holy people.)
Then the angel said to me, “Write this: Blessed are those who are invited to the wedding supper of the Lamb!” (Rev. 19:6–9)
If we can assume that both Roman Catholics and Protestants believe those from the other theological tradition will indeed be in heaven (and we think that is a safe assumption), then it is eminently reasonable to pose the question, How could Protestants on the one hand be rejected at the deathbed (or at the Communion table, for that matter) and yet on the other hand be sitting around the table at the great wedding feast of the Lamb? Put another way, how are the divisions among Christians in this life overcome in a glorious unity in the next? In order not to beg the question here (in other words, simply to assume that which is actually at stake), we will conclude with two basic scenarios: one that we believe is consistent with Roman Catholic teaching, the other with Protestant doctrine.
The first scenario answers this key question of the transition from disunity to unity in the following fashion: Protestants, as separated brethren, will at some point after death realize the error of their ways—their aberrant ecclesiology along with their deficient views of the ordained and sacramental life—and will quite simply repent. This change will be brought about by an overwhelming illumination (overcoming invincible ignorance) upon entrance into the world to come, or perhaps they will receive some sort of instruction in Roman Catholic ecclesiology and sacramental theology in purgatory. At any rate, as a consequence of this transformation, however it occurs, Protestant brothers and sisters will be invited by Christ to fellowship with Roman Catholic saints who are already sitting at the wedding supper in full communion. Simply put, all impediments will have been removed, purged away.
The second scenario is much different from the first. It recognizes, for one thing, the considerable difference between this life and the next. Accordingly, this second view recognizes first of all, that the one High Priest Jesus Christ, himself, reigns at the supper of the Lamb. Second, there are no rabbis or teachers in heaven (“But you are not to be called ‘Rabbi,’ for you have one Teacher, and you are all brothers” [Matt. 23:8]) but the one teacher, who is Christ, for all eternity. Third, there is no ecclesiastical hierarchy in heaven and certainly not among those who as brothers and sisters are seated around the table at the feast, in the unity of holy love resplendent under Christ’s lordship.
In this second scenario, then, belief in and the affirmation of a past and particular ecclesiastical order, affirmed only by Rome, so important to the first scenario, is deemed unnecessary. Thus the kind of illuminating process depicted in the first view (in terms of valid orders and proper sacramental life) is pointless. In fact, it has been rendered obsolete by Christ, who reigns at the supper with his bride, the church, composed of all those of whatever Christian theological tradition who have received both the forgiveness of sins and the washing by the blood of the Lamb in the power of the Holy Spirit. Protestants are sitting at the great wedding feast, then, not because they have been purged of deficiencies in the eyes of the Roman magisterium but because the Holy Spirit reigns in their hearts. All those artificial impediments that caused division on earth, even at the table of the Lord, have no weight in heaven. The wedding garment is not a particular ecclesiology or view of the sacraments but holiness!
We are pleased to learn that Pope Francis has been thinking about this ongoing ecumenical issue as well. On November 15, 2015, for example, he responded to a question at Christuskirche, the Lutheran church in Rome, posed by a Protestant woman, who asked if she would be permitted to receive Holy Communion along with her Roman Catholic husband.15 The Pope’s reply, cited below, is not altogether clear, and the reason, we suspect, is that Pope Francis ran into a conflict of both heart and mind on this issue; he seems to be pulled in two very different directions. Readers can judge for themselves. The pope replied as follows:
Thank you, Ma’am. Regarding the question on sharing the Lord’s Supper, it is not easy for me to answer you, especially in front of a theologian like Cardinal Kasper! I’m afraid! I think the Lord gave us [the answer] when he gave us this command: “Do this in memory of me.” And when we share in, remember and emulate the Lord’s Supper, we do the same thing that the Lord Jesus did. And the Lord’s Supper will be, the final banquet will there be in the New Jerusalem, but this will be the last. Instead on the journey, I wonder—and I don’t know how to answer, but I am making your question my own—I ask myself: “Is sharing the Lord’s Supper the end of a journey or is it the viaticum for walking together?” I leave the question to the theologians, to those who understand. It is true that in a certain sense sharing is saying that there are no differences between us, that we have the same doctrine—I underline the word, a difficult word to understand—but I ask myself: don’t we have the same Baptism?16
Up until this point it appears as if the pope was about to grant the woman’s request. But then, for whatever reason, he abruptly changed his mind and concluded with the following observation: “I would never dare give permission to do this because I do not have the authority. One Baptism, one Lord, one faith. Speak with the Lord and go forward. I do not dare say more.”17
We find both telling and encouraging the recent comments of Pope Francis toward more inclusive practices in celebrating the sacrament of Holy Communion, even if such statements were expressed in the midst of lingering doubt and ambiguity. The larger picture here shows Francis recognizing that the spiritual and substantial doctrinal agreement uniting faithful Protestants and Roman Catholics is far more significant than their disagreements about ecclesiology and sacramental theology. And yet, because of the official doctrinal commitments of Rome, he cannot fully and straightforwardly affirm that Protestants and Roman Catholics should share the sacrament.18 In this book, we have commended a robust vision of Christian unity and the church catholic that allows us consistently and forthrightly to recognize each other fully as brothers and sisters in Christ and to celebrate that reality by sharing the sacrament of Christian unity. Perhaps the pope will take further steps in this same direction, during the pivotal 2017 year, to allow us to celebrate the fundamental reality that we are all characterized by one Lord, one faith, one baptism. We surely hope so. The advance of world Christianity on that occasion and its witness to the world would be epic.
Until that time, however, or until some other ecumenical breakthrough moment comes, we are humbly aware that both Roman Catholics and Protestants will continue to disagree about the how of the transition from disunity in this life to unity in the next. Yet at least we can find agreement in recognizing that the future the Lord has prepared for us all is one of unsurpassed communion, beauty, and truth. Indeed, we are all getting closer to that glorious reality by God’s grace as we live out our Christian lives from decade to decade, walking in the obedience of faith, encouraged by hope and empowered by love. May that future, then, become our reality in a deeper and richer way, in a “realized eschatology,” whereby last things become present ones, possibilities become actualities. May knowledge of the world to come transform our hearts now, in a flush of graces, in order that we may see the Christian “other” in fresh and engaging ways. And finally, may the unity of heaven above become realized on the earth below such that the words of Christ might receive a grand and glorious fulfillment in the church, for the salvation of the whole world and to the utter glory of God:
My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. (John 17:20–21)
Amen!
1. Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2nd ed. (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1994), par. 816.
2. One Roman Catholic apologist claims, “The Church that Christ founded is the [Roman] Catholic Church which has a formal earthly structure established by Christ and which continues under His authority and protection.” Fritz Tuttle, “Jesus Christ Established a Visible Church on Earth,” Eternal Word Television Network, accessed January 2, 2017, https://www.ewtn.com/faith/teachings/churb1.htm.
3. The Catechism states: “For the Roman Pontiff, by reason of his office as Vicar of Christ, and as pastor of the entire Church has full, supreme, and universal power over the whole Church, a power which he can always exercise unhindered.” Par. 882.
4. Ibid., par. 85 (emphasis added); the internal quotation is from Pope Paul VI, Dei Verbum: Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation (1965), sec. 10, of which a translation may be found at http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vat-ii_const_19651118_dei-verbum_en.html.
5. Theodore Alois Buckley, The Catechism of the Council of Trent (Oxford: Aeterna, 2014), Kindle edition, locations 173–74.
6. France, The Gospel of Mark: A Commentary on the Greek Text, New International Greek Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; Carlisle, UK: Paternoster, 2002), 251.
7. Catechism, par. 1509.
8. Ibid., par. 1517.
9. Ibid., par. 1513.
10. Monsignor M. Francis Mannion states, “The answer to this question is yes. Before the Second Vatican Council, this was not possible; however, as a result of the council, the Catholic Church made some modifications in its outlook and practice on this matter.” “Anointing of Non-Catholics,” OSV Newsweekly, June 16, 2010, https://www.osv.com/OSVNewsweekly/ByIssue/Article/TabId/735/ArtMID/13636/ArticleID/7694/Anointing-of-non-Catholics.aspx.
11. Directory concerning Ecumenical Matters, part 1, sec. 55, in The Conciliar and Post Conciliar Documents, vol. 1 of Vatican II, ed. Austin Flannery (Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 2011), 499.
12. Ibid., sec. 27, in Flannery, Conciliar and Post Conciliar Documents, 450 (emphasis added).
13. Ibid., sec. 55, in Flannery, Conciliar and Post Conciliar Documents, 499.
14. Ibid. In this same section it is affirmed: “A Catholic in similar circumstances may not ask for these sacraments except from a minister who has been validly ordained.”
15. Sandro Magister, “Communion for All, Even for Protestants,” July 1, 2016, Chiesa, http://chiesa.espresso.repubblica.it/articolo/1351332?eng=y.
16. Ibid.
17. Ibid.
18. We realize the difficulties entailed in Roman Catholics and Protestants sharing the sacrament of the Eucharist. It is perhaps easier for Protestants to share in the Lord’s Supper with Roman Catholics, for Protestants can affirm Roman Catholics fully as brothers and sisters in Christ on the basis of a common faith in Nicene orthodoxy, while Roman Catholics qualify that by designating Protestants as “separated brethren.” Protestants often readily agree that Roman Catholics believe everything that is necessary for salvation, even as they also think Roman Catholics require as essential belief more than is necessary. Similarly, Protestants believe that our common faith in Christ and our belief that Holy Communion is a sacrament Christ commanded us to observe unite us, even as they reject some of Rome’s claims about the nature and meaning of the sacrament. Protestants may thus be able to share the sacrament more easily with their Roman Catholic brothers and sisters, even as they recognize that those brothers and sisters are unable to join in Protestant celebrations of the sacrament. Recognizing this reality, the pope may be willing as an initial step to welcome to the table Protestants who are willing to share the sacrament despite points of disagreement. It must also be recognized that many Protestants disagree with Roman Catholic views of the sacrament so strongly that they could not in good conscience take Communion in a Roman Catholic service.