timeimmortal

In reading through an excellent tome by James Stuart Bell, which is comprised of excerpts from the various books that were found in the personal library of one Clive Staples Lewis — yes, of Narnia fame. From the Library of C. S. Lewis is an amazing book full of all kinds of spiritual reflections, principally from Christian thinkers, theologians, and authors who shaped and guided Lewis along his journey into, and then through, the Christian faith.

This morning, on the bus to work, I came across this passage, an excerpt from a writing by C. F. D. Moule, an Anglican priest and theologian who passed away last year at the age of 98.

In Rev 7:14 there is mention of those who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. This, of course, is applicable to all Christians as such: we all owe our cleansing to that blood. But if, as is sometimes held, this passage refers specially to martyrs, then I suggest — though this is only a guess — that it is possible that we are confronted with a striking example of the way in which Christ’s once-and-for-all sacrifice might be, in certain circumstances, spoken of as repeated in each act of human obedience joined with his.

The martyr’s own blood, shed in faithfulness to the Lord, turns out to be the blood of the Lamb. When their blood flowed, behold it was the blood of the Lamb. Their sacrifice was united with his — not as though theirs were independently redemptive or added anything to his, but in the sense that, being united, believer and Lord are, in that sense, one: his blood is their blood, their blood his. The blood whith is the sacrament of obedience is the Lord’s blood: the wine which is the sacrament of obedience is, in that sense, the Lord’s blood.

Now, Moule was (again), an Anglican, and so did not entirely share the Catholic view of the bread and wine. And yet, I think he grasped that there was more to them than just a symbolic remembrance of The Last Supper as well, and I think this moved him to postulate a reason as to how it might be possible that in partaking of the bread and wine, we might still be able to eat and drink the bread and wine whilst discerning in them the body of Jesus (c.f. 1 Corinthians 11:27-29).

In reading his conclusion, or rather his conjecture, I got the sense that he was correct about the link between the blood of the martyrs and the blood of Christ, but initially I couldn’t quite wrap my head around what that link might be. However, when Moule notes, of martyrs, that “[Christ's] blood is their blood, their blood his,” and then goes on to note that “in that sense” the wine from the altar is the blood of the Lord, I think he’s on to something…and that he doesn’t quite go far enough.

It is probably impossible to fully convey, in writing, the magnitude and meaning of what we receive in the Eucharistic meal; in the breaking of the bread and pouring of the wine, we remember Christ, and in the consecration of same we participate — both again and anew — in the one true sacrifice that Christ made for the salvation of all. In receiving Christ, we are thus not merely remembering Him, but committing ourselves to Him, uniting ourselves with Him, and in some sense even becoming as He was.

In essence, then, what Moule notes above about the blood of martyrs must happen in the Eucharist — in taking the wine which now is blood, we surrender our own blood, and our blood becomes Christ’s blood (and His ours).

Which should mean, if we are honest about our beliefs, that in receiving Christ, we boldly declare that we are fully ready — even willing — to perish as He did, not for our own glory, but for the glory of God and for our love of others (c.f. John 15:13)

In essence then, our participation in the Eucharist — in the feast of the body and blood of the Lord — becomes a preparation for martyrdom. In receiving that most blessed meal, we pledge that we stand ready — prepared, as it were, in heart, mind, and soul — to offer up everything, even our life, for the glory of God. And perhaps we should thus reflect that if we are not able — in heart, mind, and soul — to confess our willingness to put the Lord even before our own life, we should perhaps abstain from reception of the most blessed of the Sacraments.

And when we do receive the most blessed sacrament, perhaps we should reflect on the fact that at times, the Christian call includes the call to martyrdom. Perhaps we should make it a part of our prayers, that day and whenever the moment comes upon us, to ask the Lord for the strength and courage we may one day need to face, boldly, those who would do us harm for our confession unto Christ.

Update: Welcome, WebElf readers!

Does the Roman Catholic Church teaches that faith alone in Christ is all that is necessary for salvation?

Does the Roman Catholic Church not teach that according to Roman Catholicism, man cannot be saved by faith alone in Christ alone?

Do they not teach that a Christian must rely on faith plus “meritorious works” in order to be saved?

Is it essential to the Roman Catholic doctrine of salvation that one participate in the Seven Sacraments, which are: Baptism, Confirmation, the Eucharist, Penance [also called Reconciliation], Annointing of the Sick, Holy Orders, and Matrimony?

These will be the first four questions answered in what I hope will become an ongoing series. In truth, I’d prefer to answer only the first three at this time, but there’s a problem with that. Catholic doctrine is not a series of atomic statements, but rather a unified body of teachings that build off of, play into, and complement and enhance each other. In other words, and more plainly put, it would be impossible to discuss what the Church teaches about salvation without discussing, at least in brief, the various Sacraments of the Church.

But before we begin, let’s look at the short answers to each of the above questions:

1. If you mean: do Catholics acknowledge sola fides as it is commonly articulated? No.
2. If you mean: do Catholics reject sola fide as it is commonly articulated? Yes.
3. No. A more appropriate term would simply be “merit.”
4. No, not all of those seven.

Now, let’s unpack those answers a little bit, shall we?

Read the rest of this entry »

Grace (yes, my wife) writes in to try and stimulate a bit of creative thought on my part.

Ken, do you consider yourself an orthodox Catholic and in what sense? Just curious.

Grace
Love You

I love you too, sweetheart.

As to whether I consider myself an orthodox Catholic, the short answer is: yes, I do. Now, I will be the first person (though hardly the only one) to tell the Reader that I have not lived anything like an exemplary Christian life; I’m a sinner as sure as anyone else is, and I mean it very literally when I reflect that Christ came into the world to save sinners, “of whom I am first.” If you wrote every sin I’ve committed on a standard yellow sticky note, you could wallpaper Edmonton.

But as the priest at Mass noted yesterday, that heightened awareness of sinfulness is one of the things that separates the people who have entered into the light of the Christian faith (of which Catholicism is the pinnacle) from those still caught up in darkness. That’s not to say that Christians are any more or less sinful than non-Christians…it is merely to remark that they are more aware that they do, in fact, sin. For what does sin, despite its reality, mean to an atheist?

In my faith journey, I try and live by the Bible, the Catechism of the Catholic Church, and the Code of Canon Law. I could ask for no better guidelines for living than these three books, and to the best of my ability I try and live a life that follows the tenets outlined in each of them. Of course, I fail at doing so on many accounts, which is why I am eternally grateful that Christ instituted in the Church the glorious and somber Sacrament of Reconciliation (also called Confession). When I am confronted, in my life, with a conflict between my desires and the teachings of the Church, I strive to remember that I am flawed and weak, and that there will never arise a circumstance in which I am correct and the revelation given to (and through) the Church incorrect. And should any occasion arise in which I cannot achieve even that reconciliation in mind, I will still cleave to the faith and my ongoing participation in it, rather than walk away as so many of my family have done.

I rise and fall on the Apostle’s Creed (and the Nicene Creed as well), and that same prayer I would gladly have as my death warrant, if it came to that.

For me, the source and summit of faith is the Eucharist, and ongoing participation in that Sacrament is the most important action I can, will, and do undertake in my life. I find, especially, that I am drawn to, and captivated by, the Blood of Christ during the celebration of the Eucharist. During consecration, I always strive to ensure that I can catch at least a glimpse of the cup holding the Blood, and for me the moment that the wine is consecrated and transformed is the pinnacle of the Mass.

I hope that the above, while short, is an adequate answer to the question posed. It’s a complex question that I could, if I gave myself more time, compose a very lengthy answer to. I’ve tried to hit the main points, at least. And I hope I have done at least that.