North of the Shire

It is sometimes said (in much cruder language than I will use here) that if you go to University to study, make certain that you do not study philosophy. Anything else you may learn may become useful later on, but in philosophy you will learn just enough to mess you up for the rest of your life. To some extent that is true. The reason is that philosophy, and in particular, metaphysics is mostly a study of questions and not the study of answers. Moreover, the ability to think philosophically is really the ability to ask questions.

Some of that is simply the understanding of logic, which by itself is useful, and some would say in short supply in the world of our everyday lives. But that logic, in the realm of philosophy, does not stop at the solution to immediate practical problems of everyday life but once unleashed, tends to ask questions and try to find solutions to problems for which even the most scientific knowledge of our everyday existence cannot provide the answers, not just for lack of hard evidence, but because the questions are of a different category.

Along the way we are confronted, if we have any contact or upbringing with religious people in our lives, with the question of faith. In my own personal experience, having been raised in an Evangelical Protestant home, having wandered away from that for many years and having returned to Christian faith in the Catholic Church, the questions of faith have a particular urgency, because not only do I live in this world of widespread practical unbelief as everyone else does, but I have also had the experience of two seemingly radically opposed understandings of Christian faith. If then, it seems that I return continually to the theme of Protestant versus Catholic and take a somewhat polemical turn of mind or phrase occasionally, it is only because one tends to elucidate the other and as a practical matter I have moved from one to the other in belief and can only speak from knowledge and experience.

If we are seeking truth and are not satisfied with only a partial knowledge and just as the philosopher wishes to ask more and more questions we are inclined to want the whole truth and nothing but the truth, it is essential then that we explore Christianity with every tool that we have available and for my part, it helps to elucidate what is truth by clearly understanding what it is not, or what is only a portion of that truth. Thus, as a Catholic Christian, one of the tools that I have available is philosophy along with Revelation. (Here I would point out that the content of Revelation includes Tradition and Scripture.)

This is the point at which I recognize a significant break with my own upbringing in the matter of faith. For my own understanding and for those who still dwell where I was, the understanding of where I am is more clearly defined by contrast to where I was. Having said that let us look at Faith and Reason from a limited perspective.

In his book Introduction to Christianity, Cardinal Ratzinger, now Benedict XVI, addresses the question of faith in the modern world as the same issue as faith in this world at any time. While the prevailing philosophy of our age is based upon what mankind can know and make of the material world, that is, a sort of scientific materialism, and in the past before the Enlightenment it was predominantly the Scholastic philosophy, the problem of faith remains the same. He describes faith as a “turning back” or “con-version” using the language of Scripture(1) against his natural inclination to the visible world. This problem has not changed since the time of Christ, and in fact he points out that while the ultimate Revelation of God to man is the Incarnation, in some ways that has made faith even more difficult(2) , at least in our time, because by becoming one of us in history, Christ has then taken our temporality in history and the further we are from the events of Nazareth and Jerusalem in time, the more the emphasis on tradition is strained, with special difficulty being placed by our prevailing philosophy of scientific materialism.

So let’s get really practical for a moment. Here’s where my old Evangelical instincts start to tell me that we are missing the point of conversion and faith. That is to say, it is a gift of God. In Catholic terminology it is grace. That is to say that the Holy Spirit is the one that speaks to the conscience, is the one that enables us to believe in the first place so that there is a dynamic experiential side of this business of faith at the very least, and for the Evangelical, it is the paramount fact of the matter, and constitutes “being saved” or “getting saved” in the first place. In the context of Sola Scriptura and Sola Fide, and the “once-saved-always-saved” doctrine that most often accompanies the other two (although not always) this has its own self-evident internal logic if you think about it. No amount of philosophizing about faith can penetrate that interlocking construction.

In fact, the tendency of the Catholic Church to embrace philosophy and Catholic theologians to be philosophical about faith is often held in suspicion by those whose faith is simple and I would suggest, in many cases simplistic. That is not so say that the simple cannot be saved. Far from it. Jesus himself welcomed the straightforward faith and mind of the child, and it is no secret that Catholic believers over the centuries, particularly before the invention of the printing press and the democratizing of higher education, have not necessarily been anything other than what we might describe as simple believers. And there is no shame in that, because in Scripture we read that God desires that all men be saved(3) , not just the philosophers, the theologians, or as the Gnostics would have it, those with special knowledge.

Thus, from an everyday perspective, an Evangelical might approach anyone, including a Catholic or most particularly a Catholic, with the question, “have you been saved?” or “do you have the assurance of being saved?” or some variation thereof. What the question is based on is that personal experience of conversion, which, as often as not, can be pin-pointed to a particular day and occasionally the very time of day. Why? Because the experience is paramount and it is a one-time event. And, practically speaking, from that point on, philosophizing on the subject is essentially moot. The forgiveness of sin in that moment of conversion runs in both directions in time. That is to say that sins are forgiven past, present, future in that one act of faith.

Catholics would say that such thinking confuses redemption with justification and further truncates justification and creates a further expansion called sanctification which concept Catholics would tend to conflate with justification. So where then is the use of philosophy and the discussion and analysis of faith?

Let us first consider the Catholic understanding of the subjective experience of the work of the Holy Spirit in conversion. Cardinal Ratzinger addresses the life of the Christian this way;

This is at the same time the fundamental reason that belief is not demonstrable: it is an about-turn; only he who turns about is receptive to it; and because our inclination does not cease to point us in another direction, it remains a turn that is new every day; only in a life-long conversion can we be aware of what it means to say “I believe.” (4)

Because we as Catholics understand that salvation can be lost(5) , that is, we can move from a place of justification by grace to a place of sin that separates from the state of grace of our own volition, we know that the personal experience of conversion is not only necessary but in order to grow in holiness and die in a state of grace, that conversion is an ongoing way of life(6). Just as in business, it is axiomatic that if you are not growing you are shrinking, in an ongoing experience of life here on earth can have no place for a static state of grace based on the real experience of a one-time conversion. That experience may indeed be a significant turning point of our life, in the sense that the conversion experience that we continually undergo may well be all in the same direction for the balance of our lives, and indeed, the longest journey begins with the first step. But this is at one time a dynamic, organic and holistic view of the life of the Christian, which is more in keeping with the teachings of Christ and the apostle to the Gentiles, St. Paul.

But let us not speak too glibly of subjective experience. We must understand what it is and what it is not, and whether or not there is something automatic about it, something universal that we can apply in every case and therefore use as a peg on which to hang our theology.

What is it then that we experience internally at a moment of conversion? I would humbly suggest that it is a gift of the Holy Spirit. Not only is the actual forgiveness of sin a gift of the Holy Spirit, but an internal feeling that accompanies that gift. God is a generous God and knows how much we live in our feelings and emotions everyday. As a marker it is a gift to us to not only receive the actual forgiveness but to receive the feeling of forgiveness in our emotional center. Is it necessary to have the feeling to have the actual gift of forgiveness? No. We rely on the promise of God, who keeps his word. Some of what we feel may be relief, or an euphoria at having started anew in our life.

But what of the conversion that carries no accompanying feeling? Is it valid? And what of the conversion that takes place over a span of time, for which the only feeling is a sense of certainty, of the closing of a loop? Is that valid as well? I would submit that of course these are valid. So then how can we know?

The apostle reminds us of the promise of God, and for the Catholic whose whole life is this constant conversion, or should be, this is the basis for our hope, prior to any experience.

If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just, and will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.(7)

Likewise, as is the case with most Catholics who have not been converted from some other faith, baptism as an infant accomplishes what it signifies, ex opera operato, even though the only thing the baby may be feeling is hunger, or perhaps discomfort or even peaceful oblivion at the time. Clearly we recognize, in that instant of baptism, that it is the action of the Holy Spirit that removes the stain of original sin. The inner conversion is what takes place, or we hope and it pray that it takes place, in the course of that child’s upbringing in the faith, at special moments, one moment or over a period of time. The Holy Spirit may indeed grace that child or youth with the gift of internal spiritual feeling once or many times over that time, but unless we are dependent upon feelings to appropriate the promises of God, those feelings are not objectively necessary to that child’s salvation. It is only when the child attains the age of reason that we can justly say that he or she is responsible for a life of holiness and the grace of the sacraments is there and available at all times for that young person to appropriate in order to live in holiness and return to grace when temptation gets the better of them. As St. John points out above, God will forgive sins when we confess them, regardless of how we feel at the time. The only requirement that we find is that we must be contrite(8) with the firm purpose that we will sin no more. We might sin again, but that possibility is not part of the calculus of contrition and neither are our feelings.

But what of those times when we have doubts, when there are no good feelings about our faith, when the Holy Spirit has seen fit not to grace us in moments of trial, tribulation and doubt with the feeling of faith? Despite the expression of the “assurance of salvation” of the Evangelical, the same holds true in times of doubt. Not all moments that require great faith or conversion of heart are accompanied by a gift from the Holy Spirit for our confirmation. Sometimes our faith is tested simply by the aridity of our inner experience, when specifically God withholds that inner confirmation and comfort for his purposes. What then? That is when our knowledge of Divine Revelation is also put to the test, our ability to reason, to know what we believe and why we believe and to live as if it all felt really good, when by times it is the last thing we feel like doing. And it must drive us to the sacraments, where we know that grace is obtained through the promises of Christ, even though we don’t feel it. It is possible at times that God is suggesting that we grow up a bit and mature and endure to the end(9).

This is when those of us who have tended toward the philosophical, toward reason and logic, and with the great Catholic minds over the centuries, may have comfort in the understanding of the limits of the cosmos, the finitude of science and the knowledge that there is a God greater than all that is, the first mover of all motion, the creator in whom we have faith and who may not give us a feeling of salvation each day but in whom we can trust for actual graces, and our daily bread. Our responsibility is then simple, to live it, even in those times that we don’t feel it.

(1) Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Introduction to Christianity, 2004 Ignatius Press, Page 51
(2) ibid., Page 55
(3) 1 Timothy 2:4
(4) Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Introduction to Christianity, 2004 Ignatius Press, Page 51
(5) 1 Corinthians 9:26-27
(6) Philippians 3:10-13
(7) 1 John 1:9, Revised Standard Version
(8) Psalm 51:17
(9) Matthew 10:22; 24:13