Posted on

238. No Longer Accretions. The Problem of Roman Catholicism in Dialogue with Gavin Ortlund

In the beginning was the church, then something went wrong, and Roman Catholicism emerged. What did go wrong? The answer is: accretions. Accretions were innovations added to the faith and life of the early church mainly in the realm of Mariology, sacraments, and devotions. Roman Catholicism is the cumulative result of such accretions, having become a religion where these additions have found citizenship and have become identity markers of the Roman Catholic account of Christianity.

This is one of the points made by Gavin Ortlund in his recent book What It Means to Be Protestant (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2024). The volume is a superb commendation of the Protestant faith against the background of recent attraction to Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy experienced by younger evangelicals. The advice given by Ortlund to people who are searching is to think twice (and pray even more) before dismissing Protestantism as a “new” and “sectarian” departure from ancient and traditional Christianity, as some Roman Catholic apologists depict it. As a matter of fact, the Protestant faith is the best pathway to catholicity and historical rootedness. In essence, Protestantism is “a movement of renewal and reform within the church” (xix). Its Sola Fide (faith alone) and Sola Scriptura (Scripture alone) principles, properly understood and applied, represent biblical teaching at its best and make Protestantism the best-suited movement for “an always-reforming Church”, as the subtitle of Ortlund’s book suggests.

This is not going to be a review of this insightful book but only a reflection on one of the arguments that Ortlund puts forward in addressing the problem of accretions in Roman Catholicism and how Protestantism deals with it in its renewing and reforming drive.

Accretions Explained
As already indicated, central to his analysis is the idea of “accretion”. Here is what happened. In post-apostolic times, the “gospel has been both obscured and added on to” (xxiii) and Roman Catholicism is the institutionalized result of such an accretion process. Again, “Many of the essential, necessary features of Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox theology and worship represent historical innovation and error” (149). Both traditions “have inadvertently added requirements on the gospel that Christ himself would not require” (221).

Ortlund’s book explores in detail two examples of accretions and presents them as case studies: Mary’s bodily assumption, a belief sneaked in during the 5th century that was dogmatized by Rome in 1950, and icon veneration as was affirmed by Nicaea II, the seventh ecumenical council, in 787. In both cases, we are confronted with two add-ons that are not part of the biblical core of the gospel.

Protestantism and Accretions
What’s the calling of Protestantism then? In the 16th century, Protestantism called for “the removal of various innovations or accretions” (xx). To put it differently, “The point of Protestantism was to remove the errors. Their goal was to return to ancient Christianity, to a version prior to the intrusion of various accretions” (138). This is not confined only to the Reformation age. The very mission of Protestantism is to be “a historical retrieval and a removal of accretions” (147, 149, and 220), even its own internal ones.

This is to say that Protestantism has accretions too and is not immune from deviations. According to Ortlund, “Accretions are inevitable. In an imperfect world, the intrusion of errors will be a constant possibility and frequent occurrence. The difference is that Protestant accretions are not enshrined within allegedly infallible teaching” (149). Unlike Rome, which has locked accretions in a system that is allegedly infallible, the Protestant faith through the Sola Scriptura principle has a mechanism that is at the service of “an always-reforming church”, at least in principle. Through retrieval of biblical teaching and removal of deviations that are incompatible with it, Protestantism submits to the infallibility of Scripture rather than to a pretentiously infallible church and its magisterium that is already infected by accretions.   

No Longer Accretions
The theory of accretions is certainly plausible from a historical point of view, and Ortlund does a great job in raising the issue and sampling it. The point is that Roman Catholicism is no longer Christianity in its biblical outlook but an accrued version of it.

Whereas the historical awareness is present, what is perhaps lacking in Ortlund’s book is the theological appreciation of the impact of accretions on Roman Catholicism as a whole. As already noted, an accretion is a belief and/or practice discordant if not contrary to the Bible that is added. When the accretion is made by Rome and it has received the official approval by the magisterium, it is no longer an add-on but has become part of the whole doctrinal and devotional system. Accretions are integrated in such a way as to infiltrate the religious core at the deepest level. They start as additions but result in becoming part of the theological DNA.  

Ortlund hints at this when discussing Mary’s assumption. He writes, “The bodily assumption of Mary is held to be an infallible dogma, and thus an irreformable and obligatory part of Christian revelation” (161). True, this “historical innovation” (185) was introduced as an accretion but now according to Rome is to be considered as inherently belonging to divine revelation. After it became dogma in 1950, it is “irreformable” and “obligatory”. It is no longer an add-on: it is a defining mark of Roman Catholicism.

The same is true for icon veneration. As historical accretion, the practice was given doctrinal status only in the 8th century. Since then, though, in the Eastern Orthodox tradition, “The icon is placed on a level with the Holy Scripture and with the Cross” (190). This means that icon veneration infringes on the authority of Scripture and the significance of the cross, i.e., two tenets of the Christian faith. Also in Roman Catholicism, icon veneration is grounded in the incarnation of Christ, thus touching on a basic Christological point. It is no longer a historical addition that can be detached and disposed of. It has become embedded in the core account of the Roman and Eastern gospels at the highest theological level, i.e., the doctrines of revelation (Scripture), salvation (cross), and Christ (incarnation).

While not investigating the issue with the same historical depth as the previous two, Ortlund makes reference to the doctrine of the papal office as another example of accretion. The papacy is evidently not part of the New Testament message. It is a child of imperial culture and politics, the result of “Slow historical accretions – a gradual accumulation and centralization of power within the Western church” (109-110). Yet Roman Catholicism has elevated the papacy to the highest theological status, i.e., the dogma of papal infallibility promulgated in 1870. The papacy is now another defining mark of Roman Catholicism, and this means that the Roman Catholic account of the gospel considers the papacy as central in the deposit of faith. Introduced as accretion, it is now organically part of the whole.

A Perplexing Conclusion
With all these accretions added to a system that deems itself to be infallible when elevated to dogmas, we are confronted with an integrated theological whole. Accretions were added in history but are now part of theology and practice. Borrowing an expression used by the Church Father Cyprian, Ortlund refers to “muddy water” (151) to indicate the mixed nature resulting from the accretions: it used to be water, but after the dirt is added, the water is no longer separable from the dirt.

This is the problem of Roman Catholicism from a Protestant viewpoint: it is muddy water in all areas. The muddiness is not equally dirty but is everywhere: the accretions have percolated in such a way as to modify all doctrines and practices.

Considering this, Ortlund’s final comment is perplexing. When he sums up his argument, he writes, “While we (Protestants) can share the core gospel message with many of the traditions outside of Protestantism, certain of their practices and beliefs have the unfortunate effect of both blurring it and adding on to it” (221-222). An inconsistency is evident here. On the one hand, the devasting reality of irreformable accretions is reckoned with; on the other, he still thinks that “we can share the core gospel message” as if the accretions have not altered it.

The case studies presented in the book show something different, i.e., accretions have infiltrated the core gospel message. Mary’s assumption is dogma although it has no biblical support. Icon veneration is thought of in terms of the incarnation of Christ. The papal office is dogma although it is a child of imperial ideology. We could add other examples of accretions:

In other words, the Roman Catholic “core gospel message” is Roman, papal, Marian, and sacramentalist. After the Council of Trent (1545-1563) that anathemized “faith alone”, the First Vatican Council (1870) that promulgated papal infallibility, the two modern Marian dogmas of the immaculate conception (1854) and bodily assumption (1950), the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965) that made steps towards universalism, Rome’s “core gospel message” is imprisoned in irreformable and unchangeable dogmatic commitments that are beyond the Bible if not against the Bible. After the Counter-Reformation there is no core gospel message that is left untouched by accretions.

There is a vast difference between what Paul writes in Galatians and what he writes to the Philippians. In Philippians 1, Paul is able to rejoice because, despite leaders’ wrong motives, the true gospel is preached. But in Galatians, the gospel is being distorted although some gospel words are still used, and Paul confronts this. Post-accretions Roman Catholicism is more of a Galatians 1 than a Philippians 1 issue.

Accretions are not Lego bricks that once added can be taken away. They are additions that impact the whole system and transform it into something different. Roman Catholicism is no longer biblical Christianity; it is “muddy water”. It is not half gospel and half accretions. It is an integrated whole where non-biblical accretions define its foundational outlook and not only its secondary-tertiary aspects. As “a historical retrieval and a removal of accretions”, Protestantism serves the cause of an always-reforming Church and calls Roman Catholicism to a biblically radical reformation of its core commitments: back to Faith Alone and Scripture Alone.

Posted on

237. Conclave: The Movie that Takes Francis’s Papacy to Excruciating Consequences

It is no secret that the conclave (i.e. the assembly of cardinals for the election of a pope) always arouses voyeuristic interest. What happens inside the Sistine Chapel at the Vatican among the cardinal electors once the “extra omnes” (everyone out) is decreed is a source of almost morbid curiosity. In recent years, movie director Nanni Moretti chronicled his conclave in the film Habemus Papam (2011). Now, Swiss director Edward Berger is trying again with his own Conclave (2024), based on the novel of the same title by Robert Harris.
 
The film’s plot and setting are typical of the genre: the pope dies, and the “sede vacante” (vacant seat) is declared. The operations of the election of a successor then begin, culminating in voting in the Sistine Chapel. After an open-minded pope on doctrine and morals, different fronts clash: there is the progressive candidate who wants to continue the policies of the previous one, there is the conservative candidate who wants to bring the Catholic Church back into the groove of tradition, there is the “center” candidate who aims to administer the system by freezing the ongoing diatribes, and there is the African candidate who embodies the openness of Roman Catholicism to the global south.
 
In his homily at the beginning of the conclave, the Dean of the College of Cardinals says that it is no longer the time for “certainties” but for doubt and that the church must be the home of diversity that must be welcomed. It is a clue to the narrative so close to that of Pope Francis that it forms the spiritual framework of the film. Indeed, a Jesuit mark of Francis’ papacy is the exaltation of confusion and ambiguity, generating new solutions and stigmatizing traditionalism as a backward flight.

https://www.amazon.com/Tell-Catholic-Friend-Leonardo-Chirico/dp/B0DGBTY2PQ

The film chronicles how tight negotiations are constructed and unraveled over one candidate or the other. In short, all the strong candidates, one by one, fall under the weight of skeletons kept in the closet and which emerge during the conclave. The careerist and clericalist candidates involved are routed one by one. This, too, is a feature of the film that reflects a tendency dear to Pope Francis. Several times, Pope Francis has said that the Catholic Church is full of officials who are not shepherds who “smell of their flock” and who instead aspire to power. In the film, these corrupt candidates are exposed and pushed aside.
 
Eventually, in a conclave riven by scandal and conflict, the latest and unknown cardinal becomes pope. He comes from Baghdad, the “end of the earth,” as Jorge Bergoglio said of himself. He is outside the Roman system. He has been a priest in cities and countries at war: rather than the halls of power, he has been close to those who suffer. He is not doctrinaire, and in his brief address to the cardinals, he talks about inclusion, mercy, and universal fraternity. These are clearly themes that Francis always stressed. The new pope, both geographically and spiritually, resembles a candidate who mirrors Pope Francis’ portrait of the ideal priest. He seems to have no certainties except that of a church that embraces everything and everyone.
 
But there is more. While the new pope is in the “room of tears” (a small antechamber within the Sistine Chapel where a newly elected pope changes into his papal cassock for the first time), it turns out that he is also intersex. The pope who selected him as a cardinal had encouraged him to undergo uterine removal surgery, but he eventually refused, and the pope appointed him anyway.
 
The election took place, so there is not much room for maneuver. Moreover, the conclave had opened with a call to abandon certainty and open up to doubt. Now, the new pope precisely embodies that uncertainty and fluidity and invites acceptance of what is different and outside the traditional patterns.
 
Is this not the message of Pope Francis over the years of his papacy? Who does not remember the “who am I to judge” with which he introduced himself to the world? Who has not noticed the “todos, todos, todos” (all, all, all) that has been the refrain of his speeches? Who does not have in mind the blessing of people involved in homosexual relationships? Who has not heard the pope say that we are “all children of God”?
 
Here is the point: the film Conclave takes the seeds planted by Pope Francis during his pontificate to their extreme consequences. It seems that the novel on which it is based, although written by Robert Harris, was inspired by an idea of Pope Francis. The movie only anticipates some outcomes that are perhaps unsettling and excruciating, but congruent and consonant with respect to the “catholic” (inclusive, all-embracing) direction that Jorge Bergoglio imprinted on the Roman Catholic Church.

Posted on

236. A Primer on Roman Catholic Apologetics Targeting Evangelicals

In the late 19th century, liberal theology predicted the end of apologetics as the child of an entrenched, defensive, and doctrinaire faith. It was wrong. Apologetics is alive and well, especially on the web, where initiatives aimed at comparing different interpretations of the gospel (e.g. Roman Catholic, Orthodox, evangelical) flourish.
 
It can be said that YouTube has become the encyclopedia where one can find apologetic comparisons and confrontations of all kinds. The field that is emerging as a growing reality is that of Roman Catholic apologetics, especially targeting evangelicals. This seems to be primarily a North American phenomenon where religious discourse has always been characterized by religious pluralism, strong passions associated with religion, and multiple changes of religious affiliation in people’s lives.
 
Traditionally, American evangelicals have been proactive in evangelizing Catholics with a specific intentionality. The result is that so many American evangelicals were born Catholic and became evangelicals later in life, thanks to Billy Graham’s campaigns and the many parachurch initiatives dedicated to evangelism in universities, for example.
 
This is no longer the case.
 
The call to the “new evangelization” by John Paul II and Benedict XVI has repositioned a growing number of Roman Catholics from being recipients of evangelical zeal to becoming active players of “catholic” evangelization. Today, it is no longer evangelicals who “evangelize” Catholics, but it is also Catholics who “evangelize” evangelicals with targeted and planned initiatives. Apologetic efforts are now bidirectional.
 
Mapping Roman Catholic Initiatives
Hence, projects such as Bishop Robert Barron’s “Word on Fire” have exploded with videos, books, and courses designed to attract disappointed evangelicals toward Catholicism. Barron is a solid Roman Catholic theologian who takes the experiential and personal language typical of an evangelical narrative of faith and weaves it into the sapiential and liturgical tradition of Catholicism steeped in updated Thomism. And it is attractive.
 
Consider also the work of priest Mike Schmitz, as telegenic as a Hollywood actor. He uses the experiential language of faith by anchoring it in Roman Catholic sacramental practices and inviting people to discover Catholic wholeness within the Roman Church. He, too, has a large following.
 
Barron and Schmitz are priests who apply a type of indirect apologetics. They speak to an evangelical audience to attract them to Catholicism. Another sector of American Catholic apologetics involves intellectual laymen who conceive their “mission” as eroding the credibility of evangelical faith and magnifying the consistency and robustness of Roman Catholicism.
 
Among others, four names can be mentioned.[1]
 
Trent Horn, from Texas, is a brilliant and fine apologist who is very present on YouTube and the spearhead of an agency called “Catholic Answers.” His channel is “The Counsel of Trent”—the pun is intentional and tasty. He is a Catholic “convert” from a colorless Christian theism and carries the pathos of the neophyte who has discovered Catholicism.[2]
 
Scott Hahn, a former Presbyterian pastor, is a very prolific author who is trying to present Roman Catholicism as the biblical faith par excellence. His biblical theology is sacramental, Marian, and papist, but his Catholic language weaves together the experiential language typical of the evangelical way of giving one’s own testimony or talking about the gospel.
 
Matt Fradd is another successful Catholic apologist. His channel, “Pints with Aquinas,” is a clever container of light, entertaining talk interwoven with biblical, historical, and doctrinal references all aimed at presenting the superiority and soundness of the Roman Catholic framework of faith and thought.
 
Finally, Jimmy Akin, also a Texan in a cowboy hat and the voice of “Catholic Answers,” has a look far removed from that of a bookworm or a vestry-goer. Yet, his mission is to discredit the reliability of the evangelical faith and present, as an alternative, the depth of the Catholic faith.
 
Much more “Roman” than “Catholic”
All these voices belong to the traditional Roman Catholic world, very much attached to the vision of the “new evangelization” advocated by John Paul II and Benedict XVI. Similar phenomena to American Catholic apologetics can be seen in Brazil and Australia. Where evangelicals have a significant presence, Catholic apologetics is trying to attract people from evangelical circles who are searching or disillusioned.
 
On the other hand, American evangelicalism is going through a critical phase characterized by cultural polarization, intense fights, and widespread disenchantment. Some are disillusioned and look to Roman Catholicism as an intriguing alternative. The stories of former evangelicals converted to Rome show that they “crossed the Tiber” because of the shallowness of evangelical practices and lack of historical awareness of the faith. To them, these Catholic apologists present the Roman Catholic faith as intellectually robust, liturgically deep, and institutionally united.
 
North American Catholic apologists adhere to Tridentine Catholicism, emphasizing Catholic identity markers (e.g., Tradition, the papacy, the hyper-veneration of Mary) and anti-Protestant attitudes. They herald an understanding of Roman Catholicism, which is solid and without cracks and holes. For them, Roman Catholicism in its entirety (institution, sacraments, devotions, history) has always been right. They interpret Vatican II in continuity with all-time Catholicism and gloss over the controversies and ambiguities that emerged from the Council and are amplified under the pontificate of Francis.
 
Their tone is assertive and polemical. For them, Catholicism has always been the same and will always be the same. Protestants are schismatics, not to say heretics. This is a very “Roman” mindset.
 
Different is the approach generally found in Europe by Roman Catholic theologians. Here the majority interpretation of Vatican II has made Catholicism mellifluous, always seeking affirmation of the other and a point of contact with all. Tradition is not denied but always thought of on the move and open-ended. It is difficult here to have an apologetic discussion. The prevailing attitude is “ecumenical”: Differences with the evangelical faith are not seen as contradictions to be resolved but as different nuances of the same reality to be embraced together. Their approach is very “catholic.”
 
In other words, Pope Francis would say to evangelicals, “We are brothers and sisters, and we are already united. Let’s walk together: Differences are to be welcomed and harmonized.” Instead, these North American apologists say, “You evangelicals are a new religious movement; you have broken with the one church; come back to Rome if you want to discover the true faith.” These are two very different attitudes, though children of the same Roman Catholic system.
 
This is to say that when we do apologetics with Roman Catholics, we must understand what kind of Catholics we are talking to. Evidently, there are different types: Some are more “Roman,” others are more “catholic.” One must learn to deal with all of them because, after all, they are different resultants of the same system: The “Roman” (focusing on doctrines, sacraments, and institutions) and the “catholic” one (embracing, inclusive, and ever-expanding).
 
Evangelical apologetics must adapt and contextualize, always starting from a view of Roman Catholicism as a “system.” It can hold together traditionalist, progressive, ecumenical, devotional, etc., tendencies, and that, bending without breaking, is rigid and elastic at the same time.
 
Proof-Texting and Selective
The apologetic strategy that North American Catholic apologists follow can be defined as “proof-texted” and selective. Usually, they pit biblical, patristic, and magisterial citations by setting the argument based on their reading of accumulated texts. In a sense, this strategy betrays the Protestant-majority cultural milieu from which they come. It is as if they had to defend the faith with a Protestant-like methodology ad fontes (back to the sources), piling different texts and founding their apologetics on them.
 
Those who are a little familiar with the universe of Roman Catholicism know that the latter has, yes, its own internal textual outlook, but its main internal cohesion is determined by ritual and devotional practices and a sense of belonging to an institutionalized religion. The Catholic apologists defend Catholicism with a “proof-text” method, fishing for a text here, a text there, but with little, if any, attention to the historical, institutional, devotional, ideological, and political dynamics, all of which are instead present in the “living flesh” of Roman Catholicism.
 
The point is that Catholicism, contrary to what they would have us believe, is not first and foremost a religion of the books, let alone the religion of the Book, i.e. the Bible. It is the religion of oral tradition, liturgy, symbols, collective imagination, and visual and auditory senses; it is the religion of the living tradition that expresses a Catholic sentiment more than a written text.
 
Certainly, the Roman religion is codified in texts, but its heart beats elsewhere. Texts, writings, and learned quotations, however accumulated and piled up, do not make Roman Catholicism. In it, the lex orandi (liturgy, devotions, etc.) shapes the lex credendi (doctrines, texts, etc.). I found it curious that many of these apologists, perhaps with no experience of Catholicism outside the American “Bible Belt” bubble, treat Catholicism as an average evangelical treats his faith: On the texts, with the texts.
 
Their quotation of texts is obviously selective, focusing on the “right” ones and overlooking those that do not match their apologetic defense of Rome. In listening to them, one must question the Catholic argument that the Church Fathers express a Roman Catholic consensus and that the evangelical faith is a modern novelty always contrary to the ancient church.
 
In addition to “proof-texted,” selective is another adjective that describes these Catholic apologetics. It is selective in its choice of supporting texts and selective in its perception of Roman Catholicism. For these Catholic apologists, Catholicism is a philosophically oriented, historically grounded, liturgically persuasive, and historically coherent religion; it is a whole characterized by adherence to texts, spiritual excellence, intellectual consistency, and artistic beauty. For them, Catholicism is the realization of the fullness of all that is beautiful, true, and good.
 
Evidently, this is an idealized perception of Roman Catholicism that selects what of Catholicism one wants to see and elevates this part to the whole. It is an approach of those who live in a province of the world where Catholicism has not shaped culture and social institutions but where it has established itself by borrowing the fruits of a Protestant culture, seeing its limitations and deformations, and thinking that Roman Catholicism is the fulfillment of everything.
 
When one listens to North American Catholic apologists, one wonders if they have ever seen the tongue of St. Anthony in Padua, the candles with organs of the human body offered to Our Lady of Fatima, the holy water of Lourdes, the pierced and blood-spurting sacred heart of much Baroque iconography, the votive shrines with the offering of plenary indulgence, etc. These are all devotions and teachings that run contrary to biblical revelations and yet are all pieces of Catholicism authorized by the magisterium that clash with the sweetened vision held by its defenders.
 
Finally, in their selective appropriation of Catholic texts, Catholic apologists fail to refer to the ordinary magisterium of Pope Francis (who has reigned since 2013) and who, until proven otherwise, is their pope. They ignore him, indeed detest him. And this, too, is selective and indicative of a tailor-made Catholicism. Theirs is a very cherry-picking type of Catholicism.
 
In short, they want to see only the Roman Catholicism that suits them. Their perception is often one-sided and very narrow compared to the complex global and historical realities of Catholicism. Often, the fascination towards Rome among troubled evangelicals is characterized by a certain idealization of Roman Catholicism which can be significantly removed from reality. Roman Catholicism has its own intellectual traditions, but it is also home to folk traditions, syncretistic practices, and mystical trends that run contrary to this image of a solidly intellectual religion. People who turn to Rome often have a selective and faulty view of evangelicalism and a selective and idealized perception of Roman Catholicism.
 
In dealing with Catholic apologetics, one must keep in mind that the evangelical faith is the faithful, though always in need of reform, response to the biblical message. It is the apostolic and historical witness to the gospel, though not uncritical of unbiblical accretions and deviations accumulated in history and always self-critical of its own deficiencies. It is part of the one church whose head is the Lord Jesus, although lived in different denominations. Ultimately, it is the faith that honors the lordship of Christ and the supreme authority of Scripture in all matters of faith and life. With all due respect to these Catholic apologists, Rome fails to do that.

[1] Other names are Tim Staples, Michael Lofton, and Cameron Bertuzzi, all of them former evangelicals.


[2] I had the opportunity to have a friendly debate with him in “Unbelievable”, a show on Premier Radio. The video is here.

Posted on

235. More than the heart of Jesus, the heart of Roman Catholicism. On the latest encyclical of Pope Francis


Dilexit Nos (DN, “He loved us,” a quotation from Romans 8:37) is the fourth encyclical of Francis’ pontificate signed on 24th October. After 2013’s Lumen Fidei (The Light of Faith, although written by Benedict XVI and thus not his brainchild), 2015’s Laudato si’ (Praise Be to You) on environmental issues, and 2020’s All Brothers on universal fraternity, DN takes its cue from the Roman Catholic devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus to elaborate a more general reflection on the heart, affections, and compassion in a world full of evils.
 
The encyclical consists of 5 chapters, which are made up of 220 paragraphs, and it comes out while the celebration of the 350th anniversary of the first manifestation of the Sacred Heart of Jesus to St. Margaret Mary Alacoque is still underway. Not surprisingly, the text mentions Jesus’ apparitions in Paray-le-Monial (France) between late December 1673 and June 1675. Francis also names some mystics particularly connected to this devotion: Therese of Lisieux (1873-1897) and Faustina Kowalska (1905-1938). The encyclical stitches together biblical reflections, patristic quotations, historical examples, and devotional practices that all converge at times on the human heart, other times on the heart of Christ, and always on the devotion of the “sacred heart.”
 
Devotion to the Sacred Heart is pervasive in Roman Catholic spirituality. Images of the bleeding heart, dedicated processions, mystical writings, collective imagery, and iconography in churches are all spaces imbued with this relatively modern tradition. Even the prestigious Catholic University of Milan is named after the Sacred Heart. This is to say that DN grafts onto very fertile ground for Roman Catholicism, which the pope evidently wants to enhance further.
 
In DN, the whole movement of Roman Catholicism can be seen in the watermark: there is some biblical quotation that is then elaborated in practices that take leave from the Bible as they go to focus on images and devotions that seek to “actualize” the biblical message. Through recourse, further revelations shift attention away from the biblical Christ and onto the Christ imagined by the church and mediated by it.
 
In DN, the biblical starting point flows into popular piety. The message of Scripture is blurred to make room for the world of devotions. Moreover, for the pope, popular piety is the “immune system of the church,” instead of being considered an excrescence to be always kept in check and treated with biblical antidotes.
 
St. Margaret Mary Alacoque herself, who initiated the devotion of the Sacred Heart, tells of revelations that led her to corporal mortifications (self-flagellation, sticking needles, ingesting other people’s vomit, etc.), encouragement to devote herself to the cult of Our Lady, and even to the heart of Mary (No. 176). Well, Pope Francis recalls with approval that Pius XII in 1956 stated that “the worship of the Sacred Heart expresses in an excellent way, as a sublime synthesis, our worship of Jesus Christ” (No. 79) and that it is even “a synthesis of the Gospel” (No. 83). Perhaps it is a synthesis of the Roman Catholic gospel, but certainly not the biblical gospel! Indeed, DN gives voice to the Roman Catholic account of the “Sacred Heart,” not Jesus’ heart as the Bible presents it to us.
 
This brief introduction to DN is worth concluding with a reference to a work almost contemporaneous with the Catholic apparitions of the Sacred Heart and the beginning of its devotion. The work is entitled The Heart of Christ in Heaven toward Sinners on Earth and was first published in 1651. It became the most popular work of the Puritan Thomas Goodwin (1600-1680).
 
Here, we find an excellent example of what it means to meditate on the heart of Christ biblically without giving room for spurious and misguided devotions. In the book, Goodwin sets out to show from the Scriptures that, in all His heavenly majesty, Christ is not now detached from believers and indifferent but has a very strong affection for them. Goodwin begins with the beautiful assurances given by Christ to His disciples, taking as an example of this love the washing of Christ’s feet (John 13). The heart of his argument, however, lies in the exposition of Hebrews 4:15, in which Goodwin shows that, in all His glorious holiness in heaven, Christ is not unkind toward His people; if anything, His heart beats stronger than ever with tender love for them.
 
Instead of the “sacred heart” of Dilexit Nos, so hopelessly steeped in traditions and practices that are contrary to the gospel, we need to know and experience the heart of Jesus as the Bible (sola Scriptura!) presents it.

Posted on

234. Applying Dan Strange’s Magnetic Points to Conversations with Roman Catholics

The following Vatican File is an excerpt from my forthcoming book Tell Your Catholic Friend. How To Have Gospel Conversations with Love (Brentwood, TN: B&H Books, 2025).

In my conversations with Catholic friends, I have found it useful to reference the five “magnetic points” expounded by British theologian Daniel Strange.[1] There are five fundamentals that all human beings are looking for and to which they are magnetically drawn. Because of their universal presence in people’s lives, they can be seen in Catholics.
 
According to Strange, each religion responds in various ways to these five questions. Their responses are points of attraction for people to be drawn to them. The questions are:
 
1. The search for totality: a way to connect to reality
2. The need for a norm: a way to live
3. The yearning for deliverance: a way out of oppression
4. The sense of destiny: a way to control
5. The reality of a higher power: a way to measure up to the supernatural
 
According to Strange, “these magnetic points act as a kind of ‘religious anatomy’ of fallen human beings.”[2] Other religions suppress God’s truth and seek to substitute it with an alternative account, resulting in a messy combination of beliefs and practices. According to Strange, every religious conversation touches on one or more magnetic points. It is up to us to succeed in conveying the message of the Gospel by showing how the Good News is the right answer for relating to the world, living according to God’s will, being set free from sin, relying on divine benevolent providence, and living in the power of the Holy Spirit.
 
Every religion, Roman Catholicism included, provides improbable and insufficient answers to the magnetic points. The Gospel subverts these answers and fulfills the magnetic points. In the darkness of human existence, only the proclamation of the Gospel of Jesus Christ can bring light. Truth is found in Him. This is the complete and living power for people, the power long suppressed and rejected. Dan Strange comments: “[T]he gospel of Jesus Christ does not bypass the magnetic points, but is the subversive fulfillment of the magnetic points.”[3] The Gospel does not replace the points but presents a Person, Jesus Christ, who fulfills them and grants them to those who believe: in fact, “our hope is not in a ‘what’ but in a ‘who.’”[4] Here is how he does it.
 
1. Totality. Jesus says, “I am the vine, you are the branches. The one who remains in me and I in him produces much” (John 15:5). He connects us to Himself, freeing us from our isolation.
 
2. Norm. Jesus says, “Don’t think that I came to abolish the Law or the Prophets. I did not come to abolish but to fulfill” (Matthew 5:17). He provides a moral norm for life and death, based on His own character, without degrading into moralism.
 
3. Deliverance. Jesus says, “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). He alone brings a finished deliverance; we cannot perform it ourselves and are liberated from guilt and shame.
 
4. Destiny. Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd; the good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep” (John 10:11). For those who trust Him, their destination is not enslavement but wholeness in resurrected bodies.
 
5. Higher power. Jesus says, “I am the light of the world. Anyone who follows me will never walk in the darkness but will have the light of life” (John 8:12). He is the Highest Power who became a human being we can know and love personally.
 
It is up to the church to be a magnetic people, living out the Gospel in a way that testifies to God’s authority, God’s control, and God’s presence in and over everything. In our conversations with friends, Strange suggests four moves to employ the magnetic points: entering our neighbor’s world, exploring his belief system, exposing its weaknesses and faults, and evangelizing by presenting Jesus, always communicating the Gospel “holistically and humanely.”[5] Strange’s magnetic points also apply specifically to our Gospel conversations with Catholic friends. A few examples can be briefly mentioned, especially as far as the points related to totality, norm, and higher power.
 
Totality. Roman Catholicism provides a sense of belonging to a bigger story and community. Catholics feel a part of something historical, global, cultural, and institutional. Unfortunately, the totality Roman Catholicism offers is not grounded in the biblical Gospel and has multiple cracks in it. Often, Catholics become disillusioned with the institution, develop skepticism, and look for totality either in family traditions that are embedded in religion or secular options. Jesus Christ grants a far better and deeper identity. He gives us a place in His historical and global family. In biblical terms, we become a branch among many grafted into the vineyard (John 15:5), living stones within the spiritual house (1 Peter 2:5), ears of wheat in God’s field (1 Corinthians 3:9), sheep within an innumerable flock (John 10:16), members never disconnected from the whole body (1 Corinthians 12:27). Without neglecting the particular identity of each person, the biblical vision is strictly collective. In short, submitting to Jesus’s leadership as our head involves becoming members of His body (1 Corinthians 12:12). As a community of believers, the church, as imperfect as it is, is nonetheless our spiritual home where fellowship and support can be found. 
 
Norm. Over the centuries, Rome has developed a detailed moral code for the faithful. There are norms for all aspects and moments of life, often presented in moralistic terms. To be a good Christian, you must perform these norms as your duty. In our contemporary world, many Catholics want to be disentangled from the moral framework of the church. They experience it as cumbersome, if not oppressive, an imposed and impersonal code. The opportunity is there for us to present Christ as the One who fulfilled God’s requirements and gives the good life we long for but cannot find apart from Him (John 10:10). Christ’s truth liberates us and gives us the desire to follow Him and His ways.
 
Higher power. Many Roman Catholics relate to the supernatural formally through Jesus Christ but practically through the mediation of Mary and the saints and in the context of ritual acts or ceremonies such as the “sacramentals” that may include blessed water or holy oil. Access to the supernatural, including miracles, visions, and the afterlife, is mediated by channels other than Christ alone and is often intertwined with superstitious practices. The Gospel invites us to fear God alone, who is the Lord of all, and presents Jesus Christ as the only one who died, rose again, and is now seated at the right hand of the Father, interceding for us. Jesus has conquered death (1 Corinthians 15:55-57) and has given us a spirit not of fear but of power, love, and sound judgment (2 Timothy 1:7).

[1] Daniel Strange, Making Faith Magnetic (Epsom: The Good Book Company, 2021). One needs to be aware that Strange draws and develops the five points from the work of Dutch missiologist Johan Herman Bavinck (1895-1964), whose many years of missionary experience in Indonesia have been a source of precious missiological insights.
[2] Strange, Making Faith Magnetic, p. 27.
[3] Strange, Making Faith Magnetic, p. 88.
[4] Strange, Making Faith Magnetic, p. 89.
[5] Strange, Making Faith Magnetic, p. 93.