Theological Parsimony

 

 St. Augustine, the wisdom-loving brilliant and talented rhetorician, was put off by the Christian scriptures initially after reading Cicero and being stirred for a love of wisdom, citing the Bible’s “painfully unstylish Latin.” He was seduced for almost a decade by the Manichean sect, whose esoteric teachings appealed to his intellect. Augustine would realize later, however, that the Christian Scriptures are “a text lowly to the beginner but, on further reading, of mountainous difficulty and enveloped in mysteries.”

I recently wrote an article for publication titled The Means and Ends of the Mass. It was a bit of a tenuous threading of the needle to get the premise I wanted to communicate across (and I'm not even convinced I did it well), but in doing so I stuck to the most basic of sources: scripture and the Baltimore Catechism, which I was a little embarrassed about because both are not the most sophisticated sources. 

Like Augustine, prior to and early in my conversion, I was put off by the Ned Flanders cultural banality of Christianity as I saw it, but was nonetheless seduced by more esoteric variants that sought to meld New Age, Gnostic, and Eastern ways of thinking with Christianity. Bede Griffiths, Thich Nhat Hanh, Thomas Merton, and Thomas Keating were standard fare on my bookshelf. I would read Pierre Theilard de Chardin's thesis on the Omega Point and the "Noosphere" and think myself pretty theologically sophisticated, when the fact of the matter is I didn't really understand it at all (I sometimes feel that way trying to follow Fr. Ripperger as well, albeit in a different way). In my mind, Christianity on its own was like steak and potatoes, vanilla sex, and Volvo station wagons.  It needed some "dressing up," the way my buddies in high school would adorn their stock 1996 VW Jettas with racing stripes and rear spoilers. 

This, of course, led me to various wayward forays into dangerous spiritual territory, that Grace had to once again reach down and set me straight from. Now I find myself, as I get older, appreciating a kind of "theological parsimony" when it comes to making sense of the faith and the challenges of the modern world. 

Parsimony, as it relates to the philosophical principal inherent in Occam's Razor, suggests that we should prefer simpler explanations and solutions over more complex ones, all other things being equal. This came to mind as I brushed across a recent video of Jordan Peterson talking with Russel Brand (who had recently been baptized) on the topic of "the Collective Unconscious, Christ, and the Covenant." Now, it seems both these men are on a journey to faith, and I don't want to reproach a man who is turning away from sin, as my friend Boniface adjures, by being too critical. These men are deep thinkers and public quasi-intellectuals, and they wildly gesticulate for hours while slurping the intellectual marrow from the femur of faith. But sometimes the simplest solution to life's problems are right in front of your face:

Repent, and believe in the Gospel

The lives of the Fathers give a kind of alternative to the philosophical pontificating with meat and potatoes metanoia lived out. Take, for example, St. Anthony's single-mindedness in unlocking the door to paradise with the key given to us in the Living Word:

When Saint Anthony was about twenty years old, he lost his parents, but he was responsible for the care of his younger sister. Going to church about six months later, the youth reflected on how the faithful, in the Acts of the Apostles (4:35), sold their possessions and gave the proceeds to the Apostles for the needy.

Then he entered the church and heard the Gospel passage where Christ speaks to the rich young man: “If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give it to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come follow Me” (Mt.19:21). Anthony felt that these words applied to him. Therefore, he sold the property that he received after the death of his parents, then distributed the money to the poor, and left his sister in the care of pious virgins in a convent. [1]

I may have mentioned this before, but my favorite figure in the Bible is the Ethiopian eunuch in Acts 8, whose model of docility to teaching, firm intention of purpose, and purity of heart is one I hold close to my heart:

Now an angel of the Lord spoke to Philip, saying: Arise, go towards the south, to the way that goeth down from Jerusalem into Gaza: this is desert.

And rising up, he went. And behold a man of Ethiopia, an eunuch, of great authority under Candace the queen of the Ethiopians, who had charge over all her treasures, had come to Jerusalem to adore.

And he was returning, sitting in his chariot, and reading Isaias the prophet.

And the Spirit said to Philip: Go near, and join thyself to this chariot.

And Philip running thither, heard him reading the prophet Isaias. And he said: Thinkest thou that thou understandest what thou readest?

Who said: And how can I, unless some man shew me? And he desired Philip that he would come up and sit with him.

And the place of the scripture which he was reading was this: He was led as a sheep to the slaughter; and like a lamb without voice before his shearer, so openeth he not his mouth.

In humility his judgment was taken away. His generation who shall declare, for his life shall be taken from the earth?

And the eunuch answering Philip, said: I beseech thee, of whom doth the prophet speak this? of himself, or of some other man?

Then Philip, opening his mouth, and beginning at this scripture, preached unto him Jesus.

And as they went on their way, they came to a certain water; and the eunuch said: See, here is water: what doth hinder me from being baptized?

And Philip said: If thou believest with all thy heart, thou mayest. And he answering, said: I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God.

And he commanded the chariot to stand still; and they went down into the water, both Philip and the eunuch: and he baptized him.

And when they were come up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord took away Philip; and the eunuch saw him no more. And he went on his way rejoicing.

It's neat to see these public intellectuals and cultural figures lately approaching the shores of Christianity and wrestling with its claims. Perhaps God is using them, and as He said to Isaiah the prophet, "see, I am doing a new thing." But I think the theological parsimony of the Ethiopian eunuch and the simple obedience of St. Anthony is refreshing amidst the torrent of words and conjectures that some of these figures employ, as if Christianity is not "enough" on its own that it needs to be re-baptized in the waters of Jungian archetypes or tantric vibrations. 

Sometimes the simplest explanation is best: you are a helpless sinner who must submit to the Lordship of Christ to be saved. Fear Him, do not sin. Ponder on your bed and be still. Make justice your sacrifice and trust in the Lord (Ps 4:4). All the dancing and pontificating we do to get to that point serves its purpose...provided it does in fact lead one to that pivotal decision to leave their nets and follow him. After that, watch out, because grace has a way of changing you from the inside out.

Why Do We Need Theology?

In the wake of the Holy Father's latest motu proprio, many people may be wondering what the role of the discipline of Theology is in the Church today. Indeed, they are right to be suspicious given how Theology is taught in many CINO (Catholic in Name Only) academic institutions. As I wrote about in, Do I Regret My Masters Degree in Theology?, I could have been better served from reading the Baltimore Catechism and studying various papal encyclicals on my own.

However, studying Theology as a discipline did present me with the opportunity to dig deeper not just into what we believe as Catholics, but why we believe what we do--in other words, where the "rules" and teachings come from and what their source is. Of course, everything goes back to Divine Revelation as well as the "two lungs" of Sacred Scripture and Sacred Tradition; this is the backdrop against which all theology should be checked against. 

But life is not so black and white, and circumstances, intentions, and other mitigations can offset culpability when it comes to moral acts. This is basic catechesis here (as we see, for example, in the conditions to qualify a sin as mortal versus venial), though in the wake of a reactionary kind of "Catholic fundamentalism" that can sometimes be seen in traditionalist circles these areas of grey can make one who wants black and white answers uncomfortable. 

I think this is why priests like Fr. Ripperger and Fr. Isaac Mary Reyes have gained so much traction in these circles over the past few years. In the wake of wishy-washy moral reasoning, subjectivism, Gradualism, and "white bread" catechesis devoid of substance, these priests dish out hearty portions of substantive and unapologetic teaching that people are starving for. They also do so with a mesmerizing air of assurance so that one can hardly help but eat what they put on your plate without questioning. It's easier to say, "Fr. Ripperger said..." and point to a lecture or conference on something like Harry Potter or working outside the home and end the discussion there. It's natural that such springs of delivery would make their way to the surface because of the parched and arid environment we have been living in as Catholics since the Second Vatican Council.

But the work of Theology--much like the interior life--is just that: work. It takes time, study (and not strictly academic study), discipline, integrity, and wrestling with various issues to mature and deepen. We know that Christ is both true God and true man, but what does that really mean for us? What are its implications for us as human persons? 

For all the knocking in trad circles, St. Pope John Paul II was a theologian in the truest sense of the word, as was Pope Benedict XVI. Even if you disagree with his Personalist approach to, for example, sexual ethics, he employed the best of philosophy, moral theology, and orthodox magisterial teaching for the ends of true pastoralism. I don't think I have to say how this obviously contrasts with the approach of the current pontificate to "doing" theology.

Catholic fundamentalism, not unlike Protestant fundamentalism, seeks to settle things clearly and quickly so that one does not have to deal with the messy particulars of life and complicated moral issues. Instead, they prefer pre-packaged snack packs and one-size-fits-all dresses that apply to all people in all circumstances. And who wouldn't? It can be easier, safer, and more convenient to do so. Catechesis may be viewed in a positive light, but Theology through a lens of suspicion (given how it has been abused in the past). As Catholics, we rely on moral and magisterial teaching to be developed through the filter of learned theologians. But what do you do when those theologians can no longer be trusted or are heterodox in their reasoning?

We don't necessarily "do" theology on our own as Catholics in the way a Sola Scriptura Protestant would sit down with his Bible and interpret the Word of God on his own. But that doesn't mean we get a pass from having to wrestle with our own circumstances and moral life and work out the concrete particulars as they pertain to those instances.

Take the issue of marital foreplay. If you have three schools of interpretation with regards to, say, the role of fellatio among married persons, you may get three different answers: the Liguorians would say, "no never," the Thomists would say "no, but..." and the Personalists would say, "yes, but..." For a scrupulous person, liberty is a frightful prospect, and Augustine's "Love, and do as you will" adage is a cause for anxiety. And so when the marital bed should be a vast playground for our delight and walled in for our safety (so we don't fall off the edge into mortal sin) but instead becomes a paralyzing field of landmines to be avoided, we have missed the entire gift of marital intimacy given to us by God and instead get focused on the texture of the wrapping paper.

Theology does not live unfettered on its own, nor does it rest on either Sacred Scripture or Sacred Tradition alone either. Theology is the synthesis of moral reasoning in light of both, and lives within the walls of the safe house of magisterial teaching. We think theologically not to get puffed up as JV academics, but to live out our vocations and work out these issues with a sense of maturity. 

Just as not all are called to be mystics or religious, so not all are called to be theologians. The universal call is to holiness, not knowledge. A person can have a simple, child-like faith accepted with docility having never read anything on the topic of theology. Likewise, the most learned academic theologian can have no moral virtue in him.

Pablo Picasso had a quote attributed to him (accurate or not, I'm not sure) that went something like, "Learn the rules like a pro, so you can break them like an artist." Under the tutelage of his father, he learned to paint as an academic realist and naturalist, but later in life began to experiment, moving into abstraction, earning the right. As Catholics, we are not looking to "break the rules" for their own sake, but we are called to learn what they are so that we can work out our salvation in the concrete particulars of our state of life in a way pleasing to God and avoid that which stunts our spiritual maturity (namely, sin). Theology is learning to first stay within the lines while realizing that no artist ever became a great master by sticking with paint-by-number.

I have nothing against St. Thomas or St. Alphonsus, but we have a diversity of Doctors, religious orders, charisms, and saints in the Church for a reason. Even Theology itself is not uniform, but disciplines within a Discipline (moral theology, systematic theology, mystical theology, etc). People are not one-size-fits-all, and though Divine Revelation is unchanging, our world and our circumstances are not. 

If Christ incarnate helps us make sense of who God is, and Theology is the study of God, then it is Theology which us unpack the mystery of that revelation and work out what it means to be a human being created in God's own image and how that reality is lived out. What's unfortunate is that so many theologians have not been faithful to their calling or the Church and have tainted the science by acting like teenagers rebelling against their parents. Questioning is okay. Even doubting is okay. But to the degree Theology does not comport to the Truth, it betrays its raison d'etre and becomes nothing more than another academic discipline--salt that has lost its seasoning and is not even worthy of the dunghill.