A PROTESTANT BISHOP ON CONFESSION.
BY A CATHOLIC LAYMAN.
Bishop Atkinson, of North Carolina, in a “Charge” to the clergy of his diocese, took occasion to inveigh against auricular confession. To this Bishop Gibbons replied. The Protestant prelate now appears in “A Defence,” the purport of which we propose here to examine. Omitting any comment on the personal retort, we make our first quotation from the eighth page of this pamphlet:
“To object to the power of the priest to forgive sins is, according to this [the Roman Catholic] view, equivalent to objecting to the power of Christ to forgive sins. Is this to be maintained? Is this true?” Since to doubt Christ’s declaration is to call his power in question, we affirm that this is true and is to be maintained. If the words of Christ are fallible, it must follow that he who spoke them is also fallible. “Whose sins ye shall forgive they are forgiven,” and “Whatsoever ye shall loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven”: Falsify these statements, and we make God a liar. Of the exercise of this power St. Paul says to the Corinthians: “If I forgave any, for your sakes forgave I it, in the person of Christ”; and in condemning the incestuous Corinthian he judges him “with the power of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Now, if St. Paul was indeed acting with the power of our Lord Jesus Christ, and in his person, his absolution and condemnation were identical with Christ’s. If not, his arrogations were blasphemous and vain.
But Bishop Atkinson asserts that “priestly absolution and the absolution of Christ are two entirely distinct things,” because the priest cannot have God’s infallible knowledge of the state of the soul, on which condition forgiveness depends.
Here is a confounding of things wholly different—the power of absolution, and knowledge infallible. Forgiveness does depend upon the state of the soul, and, whether it be Christ or one of his ambassadors pronouncing absolution, the conditions requisite are absolutely one. Nor Christ nor his priest can pardon the impenitent; but infallible knowledge of the state of the soul affects in no way the power of absolution. God reveals to any man his own soul’s condition, but to no man is given the power of self-absolution. So, also, he grants the power of absolution apart from the gift of infallible knowledge. The things are distinct and separate from each other. The latter of these powers our Lord alone possesses, but he seems not unfrequently, in the exercise of his ministry, to have purposely excluded all its influence over the former, to teach us that the two have no necessary dependence. Thus, he invests St. Peter with the power of the keys a short time before the fall of that apostle, and administers to Judas the clean Bread of Angels when he knows him to be a devil. Could a priest’s want of insight have results more appalling? But Bishop Atkinson here proposes
a method most ingenious for testing priestly power, a “practical test” to be applied as follows: “When the power of Christ to forgive sins was doubted, he wrought a miracle to prove it, and thereby silenced the gainsayers. When the power of the priest to forgive sins is doubted, as it very frequently and very seriously is, can he work a miracle to demonstrate it?”
To demand a miracle in the sacrament of penance as a “practical test” of sacerdotal power is also to require it in every other sacrament and sacerdotal function. Has Bishop Atkinson tested by this rule his baptisms, confirmations, communions, and, first of all, his orders? A “practical test” is of general application. When a child is baptized, the Episcopal clergyman thus speaks to the sponsors: “Seeing now, dearly beloved brethren, that this child is regenerate and grafted into Christ’s church, let us give thanks unto Almighty God for these benefits.” Here, should his “practical test” be demanded to verify this statement, could the bishop produce it? Again, at the end of a marriage he says: “I pronounce you man and wife,” and “Whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.” Is the clergyman then God? Else whence this change from first to third person?
How far, we are asked, in the judgment of a “thorough-going Roman Catholic”—one who is blind enough to take God at his word, while all the world smiles at his childish credulity—does the priest’s power of absolution actually extend? In the ordination service of the Episcopalian Prayer-Book stands this Catholic formula:
“Receive the Holy Ghost for the office and work of a priest in the church of
God, now committed unto thee by the imposition of our hands. Whose sins thou dost forgive, they are forgiven; and whose sins thou dost retain, they are retained. And be thou a faithful dispenser of the word of God and of his holy sacraments; in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
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Now, the Catholic believes the church means what she affirms; that the literal declaration is the literal truth, since God himself spake it. He therefore receives the priest in Christ’s person, believing that the sins which he remits are remitted. But he knows the conditions upon which depends his cure when he seeks divine remedies. He knows that Christ himself cannot pardon the impenitent, and that the humble priest is not greater than his Master; but, upon the same conditions that the Son of God required, he believes the priest’s decision must be ratified in heaven. He remembers, too, the promises vouchsafed to those receiving, and the overwhelming curse pronounced on those rejecting, the messenger of Christ—a judgment more dread than that on Tyre and Sidon.
Though Bishop Atkinson denounces auricular confession, we are not to understand that he opposes all confession. Nay, he deems it sometimes salutary, “sometimes even obligatory, from the ignorance and doubts of the penitent, from the enormity of his crime, from his consequent tendency to despair. But it is a drastic medicine, not to be taken regularly, for thus taken it enfeebles the patient.” Does Bishop Atkinson really mean to tell us that a state of too great sanctity is one to be discouraged? that some bile of imperfection is essential to the health of the moral constitution? and that this the drastic medicine
would too thoroughly remove? If not, what does he mean? Did he look upon confession as a wicked imposition, we could readily comprehend his aversion to its practice; but this he denies, directing his attacks against auricular confession, which by the Council of Trent is thus defined: “A confession of all mortal sins, however secret, with all their circumstances, to a priest, in secret.” Here the bishop shudders—that secret mortal sins, with their attendant circumstances, should be matter of confession, and to a priest, in secret! To commit them in broad daylight would not be half so terrible! Confessing them in secret is that which most appalls him. Such, he gravely tells us, is not the rightful mode. The proper thing to use is a very mild dilution of this potent, drastic medicine—something that will soothe and lull the troubled conscience, not purge it of its guilt. To support his strong assertions, he appeals to Holy Scripture and to the early fathers. Here we have a long quotation from a work of Bishop Hopkins. From this we learn that “the apostles exercised their office of remitting or retaining sins; for the sins of those whom they thought fit (mark well the restriction) were remitted in baptism, while the sins of those whom they judged unfit were retained.” Again: “These inspired men required repentance towards God and faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ, and then administered baptism for the remission of sins to those whom they judged to be truly penitent.” In a word, they acted always in accordance with their judgment. Now, the basis of sound judgment is a thorough understanding of the cause to be adjudged, and without this understanding there can be no prudent judgment. Were our Lord’s apostles
gods who could read man’s secret conscience? And if not, how could they know the matter they were judging, or give a righteous judgment until they knew the matter? And just here we would ask, What constitutes matter, if not mortal sins? Not venial sins, surely; for these no Roman Catholic is called upon to mention.
But why, some one may ask, must particulars be stated in making a confession? and what is your authority for the secrecy observed? To this we ask in turn, If a sin be stripped of its aggravating circumstances, will any man maintain that it is honestly confessed? and since God does not require us to confess our sins in public, should his faithful representative demand more of the penitent? Yet it is to these conditions that the bishop makes objection, and thus his “drastic medicine” is a talent in a napkin, a useless, dormant power not intended to be exercised. But what says the Church of England on this subject of confession? According to the bishop, she has left it “strictly voluntary”; but in her Visitation of the Sick we find this rubric: “Here shall the sick man be moved to make a special confession of his sins, if he feel his conscience troubled with any weighty matter. After which confession the priest shall absolve him (if he humbly and heartily desire it) after this sort:
“‘Our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath left power to his church to absolve all sinners who truly repent and believe in him, of his great mercy forgive thee thine offences; and by his authority committed to me I absolve thee from thy sins.’” “Here shall the sick man be moved to make confession.” Is it left so “strictly voluntary” as the bishop has declared it? And why now
to the sick man does the church propose confession, when in the time of health she never urged it on him? Is he now in a condition for this strange and stern requirement? But Bishop Atkinson would say: “It is only weighty matter he is called upon to tell.” Are not secret mortal sins the weights that now oppress him? And why is he exhorted to a special declaration? Is it not that death is near? But who is he that reckons the number of his days, and can certify unerringly how long he has to live? The thief in the night does not warn us of his coming. Behoves it not, therefore, that we live as dying men, lest, in an hour we think not, the Son of Man should come? If so, the rubric cited is appropriate to all. Thus, in his own communion, Bishop Atkinson will find that special confession to a priest is recommended, and that this confession has all that constitutes auricular, except the bond of secrecy which silences the priest. This is left to his honor or personal discretion, untrammelled by all vows. But the bishop further tells us he himself has heard confessions “which, if divulged, would not only have caused shame and anguish, but very probably have caused bloodshed—confessions,” he continues, “which I keep as sacredly as any Roman Catholic can those made to him.” This, in our humble judgment, seems to border on auricular.
We come now to the question of doctrinal development—a process, as the bishop thinks, for hatching any novelty that priestcraft may devise. To this system he attributes auricular confession, which, according to his reckoning, was first imposed upon the church by Innocent III.III. at the Fourth Lateran Council, in 1215. “And that this,” says he,
“to the extent to which it was then carried, was a novelty in the church, is apparent from the tenor of the canon itself; for it requires that it shall be often read publicly in the church, so that none may plead ignorant of the case.” In the Book of Common Prayer, at the baptismal office, appears the following rubric: “The minister of every parish shall often admonish the people that they defer not the baptism of their children,” etc. Here, instructed by Bishop Atkinson, we learn, to our amazement, that the baptism of infants at a very tender age was first known in England after the Reformation, when this rubric was inserted. By his own line of argument we are forced to this conclusion: Had it not been a novelty, what need of this injunction? But, returning to our subject, does Bishop Atkinson forget that there existed heresies before the thirteenth century, and that their watchword, like his own, was “Purity of Faith”? All remnants of these sects, of however ancient origin, are in unity with us upon this point of doctrine. To the Protestants alone belongs the honor of rejecting it, and hence they stand at variance, not only with the Pope, but with the rest of Christendom.
With regard to the new dogmas that have lately been defined, as Moehler well expresses it, our unity of doctrine is in substance, not in form. As the Infant in the manger and the Victim on the cross, identical in substance, were yet unlike in form, so also truth, in broader light, assumes more striking aspect. Calculus is but a form of primary arithmetic. As in the natural order, so in the order spiritual, development is but the pulse of vigor and vitality. Even in the life of heaven itself they go “from strength
to strength.” The loftiest branches of the oak were once within the acorn; nor could they have developed save as they there existed.
Thus, to a grain of mustard-seed our Lord compared the church, and to the mite of leaven that leavened the whole lump. She is “the pillar and the ground of truth,” which if once shaken, truth itself must fall. To her alone is man responsible, since God commissioned her to teach the world and bring all men to knowledge of his truth. To her St. Chrysostom and St. Augustine bowed; to her St. Ambrose and St. Bernard yielded entire submission. Like Bossuet and Fénelon, the doctors of all ages—whatever their contentions and discussions, however wide their difference of opinion—have ever looked to Rome, and sought her final judgment as the decree of God.
Bishop Gibbons, in reply to the “Charge” of Bishop Atkinson, remarked the contradictory doctrines that prevail in the Anglican communion with regard to confession; some execrating it as a Romish innovation, while others, holding tenets identical with ours, preach and practise its observance as a sacrament of Christ. Bishop Atkinson professes to discover a parallel to this in the various opinions of the Catholic theologians with respect to the limits of the Pope’s infallibility. Let us see upon what grounds he establishes comparison, and how far the comparison is supported. Papal Infallibility is a dogma of the church, an article of faith, to be by all accepted under the last penalty of excommunication. With the Protestant the force of this dogma is experienced, not, indeed, as to the Pope, but with regard to Holy Scripture, which, as the word of God, he
must hold to be infallible. Now, the general truth that the Bible is infallible the Catholic and Protestant both equally maintain. To doubt it would be heresy. But admitting, as we do, the general proposition, how many minor differences remain to be adjusted! The Catholic believes that the church alone is able to interpret Holy Scripture, and that without her guidance men may wrest God’s very word unto their own destruction; that the written Word requires some infallible interpreter before we can rely upon its meaning as infallible, since the Scriptures, though infallible, inspire not every reader with their own infallibility. But the common run of Protestants receive their Holy Bible as if it had been printed and handed down from heaven in the language, form, and binding with which they are familiar. They forget that, after all, it is a mere translation and as liable to corruption as any other text in the hands of a translator. The Pope they think presumptuous; the printer and translator infallible. But even here believers may hold diverse opinions with integrity of faith. “How far,” one may ask, “extends infallibility? Is it only in the spirit, or in the letter also? ‘Unless a man hate his father and his mother he cannot be my disciple.’ ‘If ye shall ask anything in my name, I will do it.’ With what exact restriction are these words to be received? Can errors typographical, misrenderings, etc., affect in any way the truth of the infallible? Are all the dates and numbers, in their common acceptation, infallibly correct? Does inspiration equally pervade the whole Bible, the Old and New Testaments? How must we understand St. Paul’s
teaching by command and teaching by permission? Was he in each infallible?” All these questions might arise among sincere believers holding the general truth that the Scriptures are infallible. As we have before observed, Papal Infallibility is an established dogma, an article of faith, and the questions now at issue among Catholic theologians are precisely of the nature of those among all Protestants with regard to Holy Scripture. When a definition of a dogma of faith has been promulgated to the universal church, it is acknowledged as infallible by all; but the Pope sometimes teaches in a less determined species, and then only can even the most lax theologians raise the question how far his teaching binds. Are disputes among the Anglicans analogous to these? Bishop Atkinson would stickle for his sacerdotal character; Bishop Whittle, of Virginia, would hoot the very notion. At Mount Calvary, in Baltimore, a child becomes regenerate in the sacrament of baptism; at St. Peter’s, five squares distant, no such change can be effected. At the former Mass is said and the Sacred Host is worshipped; at the latter the Host is bread, and to worship it is idolatry. For whether it be bread or the golden calf adored, such worship is idolatrous. And if the Host be Christ, not to worship is denial of our Blessed Lord’s Divinity.
Are the Quaker and the Mormon more at variance in faith? But Bishop Atkinson interrupts us. “I am not the church,” he says, “nor is Bishop Whittle, nor the pastors of the churches to which you have referred.” Be it granted; but we ask, then, What is your church’s teaching? Surely, one of you is
wrong, and has the church no voice to decide the question for us? Can idolatry be taught in her communion with impunity? For, in Dr. Gramnici’s judgment, this is Mr. Richie’s crime: the worship of the creature instead of the Creator. It is too true. All that the Church of England boasts is latitude of doctrine. She has no power of utterance to define or to condemn. The wranglings of her children have silenced her for ever. The enormities of Darwin, if they threatened, could not rouse her; nor, roused, has she the unity to utter an anathema.
Having noticed many points on which we differ from Bishop Atkinson, in conclusion we remark one on which we quite agree. This is when, speaking of St. Bernard, he styles him “the great saint.” But the question upon which he appeals to this great father is hardly one on which we hoped to find the bishop laudatory. Having chosen him, however, to plead his cause against us, we needs must think that he supports his advocate, and holds him orthodox, at least, upon the point at issue—the Immaculate Conception. Let us hear what St. Bernard has to offer on this point. “Thou art that chosen Lady,” says he, “in whom our Lord found repose, and in whom he has deposited all his treasures without measure. Hence the whole world, O my most holy Lady! honors thy chaste womb as the temple of God, in which the salvation of the world began. Thou, O great Mother of God! art the enclosed garden into which the hand of a sinner never entered to gather its flowers. Thou art the paradise of God; from thee issued forth the fountain of living water that irrigates the whole world. The day on which thou
camest into the world can indeed be called a day of salvation, a day of grace. Thou art fair as the moon; the moon illumines the night with the light it receives from the sun, and thou enlightenest our darkness with the splendor of thy virtues. But thou art fairer than the moon; for in thee there is neither spot nor shadow. Thou art bright as the sun—I mean as that Sun which created the world. He was chosen amongst all men, and thou wast chosen amongst all women. O sweet, O great, O all-amiable Mary! no tongue can pronounce thy name but thou inflamest it with love.”