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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.

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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.

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231. Why Does the Roman Catholic Church Have Seven Sacraments? A Thomist answer and a preliminary evangelical critique

This article is a review of Romanus Cessario, OP, The Seven Sacraments of the Catholic Church (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2023), xiv + 290 pp.

The sacraments, the sacramental journey, the sacramental life, etc., either taken together or separately, all characterize Roman Catholic theology and practice at the core level. Entering the sacramental mystery and actions of the Roman Catholic Church means accessing it from the main door and finding oneself in the main room. This is to say that the book by Romanus Cessario on the seven sacraments is an invitation to explore what lies at the heart of the Roman Catholic account of the gospel. Cessario is well-positioned to give such a perspective: a leading scholar in Thomistic studies, himself a member of the Order of Preachers (Ordo Praedicatorum), he also holds the Adam Cardinal Maida Chair of Theology at Ava Maria University, Florida. He is a systematic theologian with a particular interest in historical theology, mainly Thomism.

The book’s take is neither an exercise in creative theology nor an exploration of new directions in sacramental theology. Rather, it is a thoughtful presentation of the magisterial tradition of the Roman Catholic Church on the sacraments, with particular attention given to Thomas Aquinas’s teaching and legacy, coupled with a commendation of it that, in the end, appears to take an apologetic tone. In fact, the book ends with these words: “[T]he foregoing presentation of the pattern of sacramental life in the Catholic Church aims to encourage everyone to embrace these rhythms of salvation unto everlasting life” (p. 274). The literary genre of the book could be described as catechetical, in the high sense of the word.

The volume is divided into two parts: the first one (made of twelve chapters) deals with Catholic sacramental theology in general, whereas the second one (made of seven chapters) expounds on each sacrament, classifying them as sacraments of initiation, sacraments of healing, and sacraments at the service of communion. Given that Roman Catholic theology is sacramental at the core, Cessario helpfully argues that the Roman Catholic account of the gospel is that “God bestows his gifts of grace only through Christ and the visible mediations that Christ establishes and bequeaths to his Church” (p. 9). Here we find a concise, yet admirably clear, summary of the two axioms of Roman Catholicism. On the one hand, the “nature-grace interdependence” whereby God’s gifts of grace reach out to us only through visible forms provided by nature. On the other, the “Christ-Church interconnection” whereby Christ continues his work through the mediations of the Church. The sacraments display both the necessity of natural objects (e.g. water, oil, bread, wine) to receive grace (Cessario here quotes Thomas approvingly when he writes about “the power inherent in the materials to act as signs and convey meaning,” p. 99) and the necessity of the Church through its priests who act as an alter Christus (i.e. another Christ) in administering it. In a nutshell, there is a whole theological world in this sentence. Evangelical readers should pause for a moment here. The Roman Catholic account of the sacraments is not to be taken sacrament by sacrament, as if they were disconnected actions, but as a whole, since they are part of a sacramental vision grounded on the deepest commitments of Roman Catholicism that, at the core level, reject the “Scripture alone” and “faith alone” principles of the biblical gospel.  

Cessario is well aware that when dealing sacramental theology today, one needs to wrestle with the legacy of Vatican II (1962-1965), the latest Council of the Roman Catholic Church that included a dedicated document on liturgy, i.e. Sacrosanctum Concilium, and the innovations that followed. Cessario readily acknowledges that in the aftermath of Vatican II, the attention of theologians moved “away from the classic themes in Catholic sacramental theology” (p. 17). As a result, topics like the objective efficacy of the sacraments and the nature of sacramental grace, pillars of traditional Roman sacramentology, were approached differently. Their interpretation no longer appealed to ontological categories but “relied on the modern notion of encounter” (p. 25). Representative of this trend is Edward Schillebeeckx’s book Christ the Sacrament of the Encounter with God (1963), where the more existentialist notion of encounter replaced the metaphysical framework of sacramental causality, efficacy, and mediation embraced by the Roman Church in its official teaching. The Council’s call to liturgical renewal was understood and pursued in terms of discontinuity with traditional patterns of thought and practice, causing some sacramental confusion. The long-term, negative effects of these post-conciliar debates are the concerns that form the background of Cessario’s book. Here the Thomist theologian wants to provide a theological account of the sacraments embedded in traditional Roman Catholic understanding and present it to counter deviating trends in contemporary sacramental practices. Less present in this part of the book is the awareness of the widespread abandonment of sacramental practice in much of Europe and, in general, the West, especially in the younger generations. In these regions, most Catholics do not receive the sacraments of reconciliation and the Eucharist on an ongoing basis, creating a worrying gap between the “hard” sacramental structure of the Roman Church that is so characteristic of its traditional outlook and the “light” participation of the faithful in its operations. Cessario seems more concerned with the post-Vatican II deviations from the traditional sacramental patterns than with the recent decline in sacramental practice.

In line with the standard Roman Catholic view of “tradition” – that is recalled by quoting Dei Verbum 10: “[S]acred Tradition, Sacred Scripture, and the Magisterium of the Church are so connected and associated that one of them cannot stand without the others” (p. 12) – Cessario’s authoritative reference points are Thomas Aquinas, the Council of Trent, Vatican II as it is read by the 1992 Catechism of the Catholic Church, and the recent papal magisterium of John Paul II. These voices form the ecclesiastical tradition that Cessario puts himself in the service of and wants to commend in facing the worrying ripple effects of some post-Vatican II ambiguous re-interpretations of Roman Catholic sacramentology.

After setting the stage for what lies ahead, the departure point is to retrieve the notion of sacramental causality. Central to Rome’s view is that “the sacraments confer the grace they signify,” as the Catechism no. 1127 states. Here Cessario summarizes Thomas’s view of efficient causality as the hinge of sacramental theology. His arguments revolve around the necessity of ontological and causative structures threatened by existential, encounter-type categories. While his interpretation of Thomas seems impeccable, there is no attempt to ground the whole discourse in Scripture. The starting point here is a philosophical notion of causality derived from Medieval thought rather than a theology of “sign” stemming from the Bible. This epistemic pattern appears consistently in Cessario’s work. His book is based “on the principles of classical Thomism” (p. 79), and it reflects the nature of Roman Catholic theology of the sacraments, which heavily relies on Thomistic philosophical notions rather than biblical principles. Again, it is not Scripture that has priority, but what defined his approach is one tradition within Roman Catholic theology.

The reliance on Thomas is apparent even when expounding how the sacraments cause God’s grace. When the sacramental action occurs, “a perfective physical causality” (p. 81) is at work in the sacraments. What is implied here is that grace heals a wounded nature, perfecting it in the supernatural order. The background, which is congruent with the “nature-grace interdependence,” is that sin is considered a “wound” to be healed, and the sacraments are those causative actions of grace that perform the healing. At this point, Cessario introduces the tripartite structure of the sacraments: 1. Sacramentum tantum (the immediate grace produced by the sacrament); 2. Res et sacramentum (the abiding effect of the sacrament); 3. Res tantum (just the reality or the reality only), and he carefully explains the complex account of these medieval philosophical descriptors. The underlying point is to stress the causalitatis physicae perfectivae (the perfective physical causality), another instance that the sacramental theology of Rome requires more philosophical preliminaries than plain biblical support. As a matter of fact, “Catholic theology conceives of sacramental instrumentality after Aristotle’s notion of principal and secondary causes” (p. 118). Outside of this philosophical perimeter, as it is re-interpreted by the Thomistic tradition, it is hard to find what constitutes the plausibility structures of Rome’s sacramental theology. The causality principle makes the sacraments work both as “image-perfection” (elevating nature) and as “image-restoration” (healing nature), another insight taken from Thomas (p. 132). According to Cessario, the stress on causality should not lead to developing a magical view of how the sacraments work as if they were a combination of words and actions governed by an impersonal supernatural power.  On the contrary, sacraments in general do not perform magic (p. 158) and, more specifically, “baptism is not magic” (pp. 174-175). What happens in the sacraments is a “mysterious alchemy” (p. 175) between God’s efficacious work through physical realities and man’s fragile freedom and assent.

As to the nature of the sacrament, the Dominican theologian refers to the “Christ-Church interconnection” in establishing a parallel between the constitution of the sacrament and the incarnation of Christ whereby the Word of God took on flesh in the womb of the virgin Mary. The sensible and perceptible reality of the sacraments stemming from the “nature-grace interdependence” is associated with them being intertwined with the incarnation. Quoting David Bourke, Cessario asserts that “as prolongations and extensions of the incarnate Word it is fitting that the sacraments should correspond in structure to it and consist of both words and fleshly realities” (p. 101). Later he argues, this time quoting John Paul II’s encyclical Fides et Ratio (1999), that the sacraments follow “the logic of the Incarnation” (p. 170). This confirms that the Roman Catholic sacramentology makes sense within the context of the two axioms and as an elaboration of Thomistic categories of thought.

In a book seeking to commend traditional patterns of thought, it is no surprise to find the rehearsal of Aquinas’s well-established assumption that it was Christ himself who instituted each of the seven sacraments, even though to prove the point, one has to work out several inferences rather than looking for Scriptural support. If one reads the Bible for what it says, it is apparent that some sacraments, e.g. confirmation and anointing of the sick, were not instituted by our Lord. Only if, and when, the Roman Catholic account of the “Christ-Church interconnection” is taken for granted and assumed can one ascribe to Christ what was decided by the Church. Even regarding the number of the sacraments, Cessario is dogmatic. In line with the Council of Trent, there are seven and “no other option is possible” (p. 131), although the only argument given for it is that of “suitableness or fittingness” (p. 133) concerning the perfection of the human person, i.e. an anthropological criterion but hardly a biblically grounded reason.

As already indicated, the book’s second part is a lengthy presentation of the seven sacraments: baptism, confirmation, Eucharist, penance and reconciliation, anointing of the sick, holy orders, and matrimony, always stressing the “objective efficacy” (p. 150) of their administration. Overall, Cessario gives much attention to the detailed deliberations of the Council of Trent, both in terms of its decrees and canons. In line with the purposes of the book, the treatment given to each sacrament reflects the Roman Catholic position as it is enshrined at Trent and its implementation. As for baptism, it is interesting to read of its necessity for salvation and also, as the Catechism teaches (no. 1257), the fact that “God has bound salvation to the sacrament of Baptism, but he himself is not bound by his sacraments” (p. 155). The recognition of the divine will explains why Roman Catholicism is tied to its sacramental structure (teaching the causative efficacy of the sacraments to receive salvation) and is, at the same, committed to the hope for the salvation of all, regardless of faith in Christ and the administration of the sacraments, especially baptism. The Roman Catholic view of baptism is also intertwined with its doctrine of justification. Cessario acknowledges the controversy over the doctrine during the Protestant Reformation and reaffirms the Catholic view established at Trent. 

Regarding confirmation, Cessario argues that “the Catholic Church expects the confirmed Christian to take seriously his or her obligation to act as a true witness of Christ” (p. 180). Again, the fact that this expectation is increasingly frustrated by the high rates of sacramental abandonment after confirmation does not seem to be a point that Cessario feels the need to ask serious questions about regarding the sacramental structure and its “causative” dimension. If baptism causes people to have their original sin removed and be justified, why is it that after their teenage years, many Catholics stop going to church and, therefore, somehow interrupt the sacramental journey? Cessario wants to reaffirm the traditional teaching on confirmation from the Council of Florence to the Council of Trent but does not seem as concerned as with the pastoral issues it involves. His theological endeavor is focused on ecclesiastical texts in an attempt to re-establish the authentic teaching of the Roman Church more than actual people on the ground who seem to be going in different directions than those expected in the magisterial texts. More fundamentally, isn’t the fact that the sacraments do not “cause” in and of themselves the expected outcomes an indication that the causative structure in Roman Catholic sacramentology is more of a philosophical grid than a biblically realistic category?

On the Eucharist, Cessario takes for granted that the eucharistic reading of John 6 (e.g. by the Catholic exegete Raymond Brown) is right and connects it to some early sacrificial interpretations of the Eucharist in the Church Fathers that were eventually elevated to a dogmatic status by the Fourth Lateran Council (1215) and confirmed by Trent. In this context, he devotes a few pages to some Renaissance challenges that paved the way for the Reformation. While acknowledging the differences between Luther, Zwingli, and Calvin, his general remark against them all is that they departed from “the clear teaching” of the Fourth Lateran Council (p. 204), considering it just “an opinion” (p. 205). Their fault is mainly considered a breach of traditional medieval teaching. However, little effort is made to understand the biblical reasoning behind the sacramental theologies of the Reformers and their criticism of previous accounts of the sacraments. As already noticed, Cessario operates within a theological framework governed by a particular tradition rather than being subject to the final authority of Scripture.

On Holy Orders, the “Christ-Church interconnection” is again clearly displayed as another demonstration of the pervasiveness of the axiom in shaping sacramental theology. Quoting John Paul II, Cessario concurs that “in every priest it is Christ himself who comes” (p. 247) and “The priest is another Christ” (ibid.). It isn’t easy to find clearer statements than these.

In the Introduction, the author writes that “the book aims to present, without apology, the seven sacraments from a Catholic point of view” (p. 3). Having gone through the entire volume, one can say that Cessario has succeeded in his goal. The book opens the door to the sacramental world of the Roman Catholic Church, and it does so with a catechetical and apologetic tone. The book is particularly interesting for the evangelical reviewer because it frames Roman Catholic sacramentology within the two axioms of “nature-grace interdependence” and “Christ-Church interconnection” and with a heavy reliance on Thomistic categories. In so doing, it exemplifies what it means for Roman Catholic theology and practice to be a well-integrated system and reflects the central role of Thomas Aquinas and his legacy in shaping it.

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230. What is at Stake with the Roman Catholic View of the Sacraments? Ask Professor Henri Blocher

Dean of European evangelical theologians, Henri Blocher needs little introduction. The opportunity to measure up to his work again is offered by the publication of the second volume on the church and the sacraments: La doctrine de l’Église et des sacrements, vol 2 (Charols: Excelsis; Vaux-sur-Seine: Edifac, 2024). The Parisian theologian’s ecclesiology and sacramentology are confirmed to live up to the notorious depth of his thought.

As with the first volume on the church, La doctrine de l’Église e des sacrements, vol. 1 (Vaux-sur-Seine: Edifac, 2023), which I reviewed in the article “What is at Stake with the Roman Catholic View of the Church? Ask Professor Henri Blocher” (1 February 2024), the focus of this review will also be on Blocher’s assessment of Catholic sacramentology. The book also contains a discussion of Reformed theology’s conception of the sacraments and that of the baptistic churches. Obviously, it is worth reading it all to appreciate not only Blocher’s critical reading of Roman Catholicism but also of the Reformed view, especially concerning pedobaptism.

Blocher begins the volume with an analysis of the Catholic understanding of the sacraments. While he acknowledges that it is a well-codified doctrine in the Roman magisterium, he does not hide the fact that in Catholic seminaries in the last century the “traditional” version has been subject to very discordant interpretations and versions. It is not so much a matter of detail, rather of different conceptualities with which it is approached: no longer the Aristotelian-Thomistic one with which it was constructed, but those borrowed from Heidegger’s philosophy, Lacan’s psychoanalysis, Oddo Casel’s “mystery” theology or Austin and Searle’s speech-act theory. This is to say that Catholic sacramentality, while retaining a “Roman” hard core still tied to a certain causative mechanism, also has its own “Catholic” vitality that allows it not to limit itself to the mere repetition of past formulas and arguments, but to expand them to readings influenced by theories of signs, symbols and meanings inferred from modern currents of thought. An example of this internal dynamic of Catholic sacramental theology is, for Blocher (p. 11, 15-20, 37-40), represented by F. Schillebeeckx’s work, Christ the Sacrament of the Encounter with God (1960 ; English edition 1987), who rereads sacramentality from a personalist perspective.

Questioning sacramental causation
For Blocher, at the heart of Catholic sacramentality lies the causative role in the administration of grace, that is, “the real efficacy of the sacramental operation” (p. 13). The cause is connected to the sign. While in the Church Fathers and the early Middle Ages the relationship between cause and sign is established but still fluid, Thomas Aquinas imprinted on Catholic theology the concept of “causative efficacy.” Famous is his phrase “significando causant” (Summa Theologiae III, qq. 60-65) as it refers to the sacraments as a cause of grace by means of signifying it. In an anti-Protestant function, the Council of Trent espouses this definition and carves it into its canons, which anathematize those who do not embrace it. In the Thomist-Tridentine line, Christ acts through “another Christ” (the priest) through the sign that causes the administration of grace contained and conferred by the sign.

Blocher warns against the temptation to have a “magical” view of Catholic sacramentality (p. 20). There is no impersonal mechanism that disregards the disposition and cooperation of each person (priest, faithful) and the absence of “obstacles.” However, while recognizing the role of the faith of the subjects, it is the sacramental conception of the church itself as an extension of Christ (p. 25) that makes up for the shortcomings of one or the other and ensures the efficacy of the sacrament. As the human and divine natures are united in Jesus Christ, the humanity of the element is joined to the “divinity” of grace bestowed by the church in the unity of the sacrament. As already argued in the first volume on the church, for Blocher the Roman Catholic understanding of the church as an extension of the incarnation is a distinctive feature of the entire Roman Catholic system, including its view of sacramentality.

Being the fine exegete that he is, Blocher reviews the biblical texts that Catholic theology reads from a sacramentalist perspective, noting that no evidence stands out about the plausibility of this reading. Moreover, it reverses biblical proportions about the relationship between interiority and exteriority (the former being more important than the latter). Moreover, it is in open contradiction with biblical texts such as 1 Corinthians 1:17, Romans 14:17 and Hebrews 9-13. In addition, the New Testament never associates the sacraments with the action of Christ Himself, but with that of the disciples sent by Christ. In other words, it is not Christ who baptizes or administers the Supper (as Roman Catholicism believes), but it is the disciples who are commissioned to do so in His name. Christ baptizes with the Holy Spirit but commands the church to baptize in water and administer the Supper.

The Roman Catholic sacramental system, thus infused with causal efficacy, turns out to be a mirror of pagan systems of rites of passage associated with birth, adolescence, marriage and death (p. 35). By minimizing the impact of sin, Roman Catholicism has opened itself to syncretistic forms and structural compromises with pagan forms of “natural” religiosity (pp. 36-37).

On the theories of causality at work in Catholic sacramentology, Blocher shows awareness of the nuances present between the Thomist reading already referred to (“significando causant”), the “occasional” one of Bonaventure and Duns Scotus, the “moral” one by Melchor Cano,” and others. These are all variations on the theme of causality that do not eliminate the underlying problem: for Rome, grace is made to flow from an act of the church.

Roman Catholicism elevates the incarnation to a metaphysical principle that must reproduce itself to be efficacious. Because of that, it loses sight of the “once and for all” of the atonement, it shatters the “it is finished” of the cross, it derogates from the celebration of God alone and his glory, it questions justification by faith alone (without works). It elevates the church to a dispenser of grace (pp. 43-45). In short, Catholic sacramentology considers the church to be a “mediator” of grace and stands in radical contrast to the biblical message.

Continuing his discussion, regarding the seven sacraments dogmatized at the Council of Trent, Blocher notes that “the sacramental septenary leads to fragmenting grace in a way the New Testament does not” (p. 93). In breaking down grace, Roman Catholicism parcels it by losing sight of its being a divine gift: God’s grace is not a “thing” that the church slices up and serves individually, but God himself giving himself.

On baptism, the Parisian theologian dwells more on the critique of Protestant paedobaptism while glossing over the Catholic conception. This is a limitation of the book: not including a chapter on baptism according to Rome.

The Problems of the Roman Catholic Eucharist
Blocher focuses on the Roman Catholic Eucharist the most. He recalls that Thomas Aquinas described the Eucharist as the most important sacrament because it essentially contains Christ Himself, while the other sacraments only involve Christ by participation (meaning Christ’s presence not being as real and substantial as in the Eucharist). Blocher speaks of a “Catholic exaltation of the Eucharist” (p. 145) because it is considered the source and summit of all Christian life. In it, Roman Catholicism encapsulates all: ecclesiastical dogmatics and institutional belonging. Besides being prevented by Rome itself, evangelical participation in the Eucharist is therefore to be avoided precisely because it is the sacrament par excellence of those who are Roman Catholic (p. 187).

Blocher devotes an entire chapter to analyzing two pillars of the Catholic Eucharist: the “real presence” and the “sacrifice.” From the Council of Trent, the Catechism of the Catholic Church (nn. 1373-1377) speaks about the presence of Christ in the Eucharist by using the adverbs “truly, really and substantially.” Blocher notes that evangelicals too (even the Zwinglians!) speak of “presence.” One must understand what meaning to attribute to this presence: for evangelicals (except Lutherans who have a conception of their own), it is “spiritual,” that is, thanks to the Holy Spirit and in the Spirit; for Catholics, on the other hand, it implies the change of substance of the bread and wine brought about by the officiant into the sacramental body of Christ. These are two effectively distant experiences and concepts of presence.

Where does this Roman Catholic understanding come from? Blocher recalls the evolution of Catholic dogma. While the thinking of Irenaeus, Origen and Tertullian swings and tends toward a realist interpretation, more spiritualist readings are found in other Church Fathers (p. 195): Basil, Gregory of Nazianzus and Augustine are cited. The latter has an unresolved theology of the Supper: at times he identifies the divine reality and the sacramental sign, at other times he speaks of their difference (p. 200). Medieval development reached its peak with the dogma of transubstantiation at the Fourth Lateran Council in 1215. This dogma adopted a literal interpretation of Jesus’ words, “this is my body,” and became a core part of Roman Catholic doctrine. It was accompanied by a devotion to the mystery of the Eucharist, a desire for physical contact to receive grace, and a heightened reverence for the ecclesiastical institution’s power to sanctify (p. 207).

Biblically speaking, Blocher notes that in Scripture the body and blood of Christ are not linked to the bread and wine: it is out of biblical parameters to think of a change in their nature. It is “methodologically irresponsible to invent a new use of language without the text requiring it” (p. 215). If anything, the church is the body of Christ and “nothing indicates that the bread becomes the body” (p. 217). In addition, the wine remains the “fruit of the vine” (Matthew 26:29). Moreover, bread and wine signify and represent the body and blood of Christ, without being transformed into Christ Himself. Finally, Christ’s ascension to the right hand of the Father does not allow for the “localization” of Christ’s presence on the Eucharistic table (p. 211).

Remaining tied to the Tridentine dogma of transubstantiation, Roman Catholicism has in recent decades paved the way for relational re-interpretations of substance (e.g., B. Sesboüé) or in the direction of “transignification” (e.g., P. Schoonenberg) that, however, do not change the Catholic sacramental system (p. 213). The bottom line of the problem remains: Roman Catholicism needs to locate a “substantial” contact by which divine life is transmitted (p. 220).

As for the Catholic conception of the Eucharist as a “sacrifice” (and therefore propitiatory), Blocher notes how in the early Church Fathers the Eucharist is primarily associated with the sacrifice of prayers (Justin, Irenaeus, Tertullian). It is only from the second half of the third century that the emphasis changes and the idea of the re-presented immolation of Christ’s sacrifice takes hold (Cyprian of Carthage, Cyril of Jerusalem, John Chrysostom). Again, Augustine oscillates between positions. At the Council of Trent, Rome carved into its doctrine the sacrificial and expiatory conception of the Eucharist: according to Dutch theologian G. Berkouwer, it is a shadow cast over the sufficiency of Christ’s work (p. 232). The work of the atonement is not accomplished once and for all but is continually immolated. For Roman Catholicism, it is therefore not complete: it requires the substantial presence of the body of Christ and the continual offering of the church. Blocher is peremptory: “the idea of a sacrificial immolation of Christ on the Eucharistic table, transformed into an altar, has no justification whatsoever, be it biblical or theological” (p. 241). We are in the presence of an accretion of Roman Catholicism dependent on the natural and pagan religions absorbed into the corpus of Catholic experience.

Contrary to the ecumenical reading that wants to see in the Roman Catholic conception of the Eucharist another and complementary way of understanding and practicing the Lord’s Supper, Blocher helps to clarify that, even in the presence of the same and similar words, Roman Catholic sacramentology operates in a universe other than the evangelical faith. For this reason, the Parisian theologian has rendered with this dense and profound book another useful service to evangelical theological discernment.

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199.  Eating God? A History of the Eucharist and a Glimpse of Roman Catholicism

At first glance, it seems like a cannibalistic gesture, even if it is addressed to God and not to a human being. Yet it is the quintessence of Roman Catholicism. We are talking about “eating God,” an act that is at the heart of the Roman Catholic understanding of the Eucharist. Can Roman Catholicism really be thought of as the religion of “eating God”? Matteo Al-Kalak, professor of modern history at the University of Modena-Reggio, explores this question is in his latest book, Mangiare Dio. Una storia dell’eucarestia (Turin: Einaudi, 2021; Eating God. A History of the Eucharist).

Mangiare Dio
Mangiare Dio. Una storia dell’eucarestia

The book is a history of the Eucharist from the Council of Trent (1545-1563) onwards in the Italian context and focuses on how the Eucharist has been elevated to a primary identity-marker: practiced, taught, protected, abused, and used for various purposes, including extra-religious ones. Using “a mosaic technique” (p.xiv), he analyzes some pieces of the history of the Eucharist.
 
It is not surprising that facing the challenges posed by the Protestant Reformation (in all its Eucharistic variants, from the German Lutheran version to the Calvinian-Zwinglian Swiss version), the Council of Trent emphasized the sacrificial character of the Mass and made the Eucharist the symbolic pivot of the Counter-Reformation. Al-Kalak’s book is a collection of micro-stories aimed at forming a mosaic that reflects the crucial importance of the Eucharist in the construction of the post-Tridentine Roman Catholic imagination and strongly Eucharistic emphasis.
 
After reviewing the biblical data, the book summarizes the medieval debates starting from the Fourth Lateran Council (1215) which intertwined three pillars: who was to dedicate (in Roman Catholic language: consacrate) the bread and the wine (i.e. only the clergy), the confession to be preceded, and the true and proper Eucharist. One of the outcomes of the Council was the institution of the feast of Corpus Domini (The Body of the Lord, 1247). This Lateran synthesis was contested both before and after the Reformation. The pages on the heretical movements of the 16th century give voice to the “doctrinal fluidity of Italian heterodoxy” on the Lord’s Supper (p.19). In this regard, the opinion of Natale Andriotti from Modena is reported. Talking to a friend he said, “Do you think that Christ is in that host? It’s just a little dough” (p.149).
 
As pieces of the mosaic, other chapters tell stories of Eucharistic miracles, associated with various prodigies, and the development of a kind of preaching centered around Eucharistic themes (from the model offered by Carlo Borromeo in the 17th  century to the impetus given by Alfonso Maria de Liguori in the 18th century). Al-Kalak touches on the meticulous regulation given to the administration of the Eucharist (from the spaces, to the gestures, to the treatment of abuses) outside and inside the Mass (for example, at the bedside of the sick). Further chapters follow on the Eucharist represented in poetic, pictorial and architectural forms and on the desecrated Eucharist in witchcraft, magic and superstitious practices.
 
The discussion of the Eucharist in the face of the cultural disruption of the French Revolution is also of great interest. The Eucharist was seen as a polemical tool against the rationalism of modernity and for the re-Christianization of society (Pope Leo XIII). In recent years, though, Pope Francis is pushing to loosen the criteria for access to the Eucharist to allow the inclusion of those who are in “irregular” life situations. The book witnesses to the fact that the Eucharistic theologies and practices are not static and given once and for all, but always on the move.
 
The volume ends with an interesting “postscriptum” in which Al-Kalak dwells on the “scandal” of the Eucharist: “only the host is subject to the physiological mechanisms of the human being in such a radical way” (191), yet it is believed as a supernatural act filled with mystery. It combines rational language ​​with sensory ones, opening up to the irrational (p.193). If it is true to say that “the Eucharist – in the regular mass, in Eucharistic adoration, in Eucharistic processions – and fidelity to the pope and to the hierarchy are the two most distinguished features of Roman Catholicism from the Council of Trent onwards” (p.195), then a history of the Roman Catholic practice of “eating God” allows us to enter into the depths of the Roman Catholic religion.
 
Beyond the fascinating stories told by the book, what is of some interest is its title, “Eating God,” and its appropriateness to describe the soul of Roman Catholicism. Already in the early centuries of the church, Christians were sometimes accused of cannibalism precisely in relation to the Lord’s Supper. What did Jesus mean when he said, “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life” (John 6:54)? The meal of bread and wine associated with the memory of the body and blood of Jesus Christ could give rise to misunderstandings. Was it a truly human “body”? Was it the blood of a corpse? Was it then a cannibal meal? Christian apologetics of the early centuries tried to unravel the misunderstandings as much as possible, indignantly rejecting the accusation of cannibalism and, if anything, indicating the biblical parameters of the ordinance instituted by Jesus himself.
 
Yet, already starting from the Fourth Lateran Council, and even more so from the Council of Trent, the church of Rome embraced “transubstantiation,” i.e an understanding of the sacrament according to which, after the consecration of the bread and wine and the transformation of their nature into the body and blood of Christ, there is a sense in which the Roman Catholic Eucharist is a real “eating of God.” If the bread really becomes the flesh and blood of Jesus (the God-man), taking it in some way means “eating God,”
 
Can it really go that far? Evidently yes, according to Rome. While the Reformation insisted on recovering the distinction between Creator and creature, the radical nature of sin and the sufficient mediation of the God-man Jesus Christ for the salvation of those who believe, the Roman Catholic Church instead veered on the analogy between Creator and creature and on the prolongation of Christ’s mediation in the hierarchical and sacramental church, to the point of considering the creature’s “eating God” as possible, even necessary. For Roman Catholicism, man is “capable of God” (capax dei) to the point of having to really “eat” him.
 
Is this the meaning of the meal that the Lord Jesus instituted the night he was betrayed and that he gave to the church as a memorial of him in view of his second coming? The debate on this question in history has been very lively and is still crucial. In the “eating God” of the Eucharist, Roman Catholicism puts all its worldview at work: its view of reality as touched but not marred by sin, the extension of the incarnation in the church, the divinization of man, and the “already” of salvation enjoyed in the fruition of the sacraments without waiting for the “not yet” of the final banquet. If you think about it, as absurd as it appears, “eating God” is a synthesis of Roman Catholicism.