In the complete revision which has
taken place in the Church’s vocabulary, a few words have survived,
and Faith is one of them. The trouble is that it is used with
so many different meanings. There is, however, a definition of
faith, and that cannot be changed. It is to this that a Catholic
must refer when he no longer understands anything of the garbled
and pretentious language addressed to him.
Faith is “the adherence of the intellect
to the truth revealed by the Word of God.” We believe in a truth
that comes from outside and which is not in some way produced
by our own mind. We believe it because of the authority of God
who reveals it to us, and there is no need to seek elsewhere.
No one has the right to take this
faith from us and replace it by something else. What we are now
seeing is the revival of a Modernist definition of faith which
was condemned eighty years ago by Pius X. According to this,
faith is an internal feeling: there is no need to seek further
than man to find the explanation of religion: “It is therefore
within man himself that it is to be found; and since religion
is one form of life, it is found in the very life of man”--something
purely subjective, an adhering of the soul to God, Who is inaccessible
to our intellect. It is everyone for himself, in his own conscience.
Modernism is not a recent invention,
nor was it in 1907, the year of the famous encyclical. It is the
perennial spirit of the Revolution, and it seeks to shut us up
within our humanness and make God an outlaw. Its false definition
of faith is directed to the destruction of the authority of God
and the authority of the Church.
Faith comes to us from outside, and
we have an obligation to submit to it. “He who believes will be
saved, and he who does not believe will be condemned;” Our Lord
Himself affirms it.
When I went to see the Pope in 1976,
to my very great surprise, he reproached me for making my seminarists
swear an oath against him. I found it hard to conceive where that
idea had come from. It had evidently been whispered to him with
the intention of harming me. Then it dawned on me that someone
had maliciously interpreted in this way the Anti-Modemist Oath
which until recently every priest had to take before his ordination,
and every Church dignitary when he received his office. His Holiness
Paul VI had sworn it more than once. Now here is what we find
in this oath: “I hold most certainly and I profess sincerely that
Faith is not a blind religious feeling which emerges from the
shadows of the subsconscious under the pressure of the heart and
the inclination of the morally informed will. But it is true assent
of the intellect to the truth received from outside, by which
we believe to be true on God’s authority all that has been said,
attested and revealed by God in person, our Creator and Lord.”
This Anti-Modernist Oath is no longer
required before becoming a priest or a bishop. If it were, there
would be even fewer ordinations than there are. In effect, the
concept of faith has been falsified and many people without any
wrong intention let themselves be influenced by modernism. That
is why they are ready to believe that all religions save. If each
man's faith is according to his conscience--if it is conscience
that produces faith--then there is no reason to believe that one
faith saves any better than another, so long as the conscience
is directed towards God. We read statements of this sort in a
document from the French Bishops Catechetical Commission: “Truth
is not something received, ready-made, but something which develops.”
The two view-points are completely
different. We are now being told that man does not receive truth
but constructs it. Yet we know, and our intelligence corroborates
this, that truth is not created--we do not create it.
Then how can we defend ourselves
against these perverse doctrines that are ruining religion, all
the more since the “purveyors of novelties” are found in the very
bosom of the Church? Thank God, they were unmasked at the beginning
of the century in a way that allows them to be easily recognized.
And we must not think of it as an old phenomenon of interest only
to Church historians. Pascendi is a text that could have been
written today; it is extraordinarily topical and depicts the “enemies
within” with admirable vividness.
We see them “lacking in serious philosophy
and theology and passing themselves off, all modesty forgotten,
as restorers of the Church... contemptuous of all authority, chafing
at every restriction.” “Their tactics are never to expound their
doctrines methodically and as a whole, but in some manner to split
them up and scatter them about here and there. This makes them
seem hesitant and imprecise, when on the contrary, their ideas
are perfectly fixed and consistent. One page of their writings
could have been written by a Catholic; turn over, and you will
think you are reading something by a Rationalist. Reprimanded
and condemned, they go their own way, concealing a boundless effrontery
under a deceitful appearance of submission. Should anyone be so
mistaken to criticize any one of their novelties, however outrageous,
they will fall upon him in serried ranks: the one who denies it
is treated as an ignoramus, while whoever accepts and defends
it is praised to the skies. A publication appears breathing novelty
at every pore: applause and cries of admiration greet it. The
more audacious a writer is in belittling antiquity and in undermining
Tradition and the Church’s magisterium, the cleverer he is. Finally,
should one of them incur the Church’s condemnation, the others
will immediately rally round him, eulogise him publicly and venerate
him almost as a martyr for the truth.”
All these features correspond so
closely with what we are seeing that we could imagine them to
have been written just recently. In 1980, after the condemnation
of Hans Küng, a group of Christians took part in an auto-da-fè
in front of the Cologne cathedral as a form of protest against
the Holy See’s decision to withdraw from the Swiss theologian
his canonical mandate. A bonfire was made, and on it they threw
an effigy and writings of Küng “in order to symbolize the repression
of courageous and honest thought” (Le Monde). Shortly before that,
the sanctions against Père Pohier had provoked another public
outcry. Three hundred Dominican friars and nuns signed another
text; the abbey of Bouquen, the Chapel of Montparnasse, and other
avant-garde groups leapt into the fray. The only new thing, by
comparison with Pius X’s description, is that they no longer hide
under the cover of submission. They have gained confidence; they
have too much support within the Church to conceal themselves
any longer. Modernism is not dead; on the contrary, it progresses
and flaunts itself.
To continue with Pascendi:
“After that, we need not be surprised that the modernists pursue
those Catholics who fight energetically for the Church, with all
their malice and harshness. There is no limit to the insults
they will heap on them. If the adversary is one redoubtable on
account of his learning and intellect they will try to make him
powerless by organizing around him a conspiracy of silence.” This
is what is happening today to hounded and persecuted traditionalist
priests, and to clerical and lay religious writers concerning
whom the press, in the hands of the progressivists, never says
a word. Youth movements too are shunned for the fact that they
remain faithful, and their edifying activities, pilgrimages and
so forth remain unknown to the public who might have been much
encouraged by them.
“If they write history, they seek
out with curiosity everything that seems to them to be a blot
on the Church's history; and they expose it to the public with
ill-dissimuIated pleasure under the pretence of telling the whole
truth. Dominated as they are by their preconceptions, they destroy
as far as they are able the pious traditions of the people. Certain
relics that are most venerable on account of their antiquity they
hold up to ridicule. Lastly, they are obsessed by the vanity of
wanting to have themselves talked about which, as they well know,
would not happen if they spoke as people have always spoken hitherto.”
As for their doctrine, it is based
on the following few points which we have no difficulty in recognizing
in current thought. “Human reason is incapable of raising itself
up to God, or even of knowing, from the fact of created beings,
that He exists.” As any external revelation is impossible, man
will seek within himself to satisfy the need he feels for the
divine, a need rooted in his subsconscious. This need arouses
in the soul a particular feeling “which in some way unites man
with God.” This is what faith is for the modernists. God is thereby
created within the soul, and that is Revelation.
From the sphere of religious feeling
we pass to that of the intellect, which proceeds to elaborate
the basic dogmas: since man is endowed with intelligence, he has
a need to think out his faith. He creates formulas, which do not
contain absolute truth but only images or symbols of the truth.
Consequently these dogmatic formulas are subject to change, they
evolve. “Thereby the way is open for substanstial changes in dogmas.”
The formulas are not simply theological
speculations, they have to be living to be truly religious. Man’s
feeling for religion, religious sentiment, needs to assimilate
them “vitally.” “Living the faith” is a current phrase. Continuing
in St. Pius X’s exposition of Modernism, we read, “These formulas,
if they are to be living formulas, must always be suited to the
believer and to his faith. The day they cease to be so, they will
automatically lose their original content, and then there will
be nothing to do but change them. Since dogmatic formulas, as
the Modernists conceive them, are of such an unstable and precarious
nature, one understands perfectly why they have such a slight
opinion of them, even if they do not despise them openly. Religious
feeling, religious life are the phrases always on
their lips.” And in their sermons, lectures and catechisms, “ready-made
formulas” are anathema.
The believer makes his personal experience
of faith, then he communicates it verbally to others, and in that
way religious experience propagates itself. Once the faith has
become common or, as one says, collective, the need is felt to
combine together in a society to preserve and develop the common
treasure. This is how a Church is formed. The Church is “the
fruit of the collective conscience, in other words, of the sum
of individual consciences, which all derive from one original
believer--who for Catholics is Jesus Christ.”
And this is how the modernists write
the history of the Church: at the beginning, when the Church's
authority was still believed to come from God, it was conceived
as an autocratic body. “But now the mistake has been realized.
For just as the Church is a vital emanation of the collective
conscience, so Authority in its turn is a vital product of the
Church.” Power, therefore, must change hands and come from the
bottom. As political consciousness has created popular government,
the same thing must happen in the Church: “If ecclesiastical authority
does not wish to provoke a crisis of conscience, it must bow to
democratic forms.”
You will now understand where Cardinal
Suenens and all the talkative theologians got their ideas. The
post-conciliar crisis is in complete continuity with the crisis
which disturbed the end of the last century and the beginning
of this one. You will also understand why, in the catechism books
that your children bring home with them, everything begins with
the first communities that were formed after Pentecost, when the
disciples, as a consequence of the shaking-up which the meeting
with Jesus provoked in them, felt a need of the divine and lived
out a “new experience” together. And you can now explain the absence
of dogmas--such as the Holy Trinity, the Incarnation, the Redemption
and the Assumption--in these books and also in sermons. The Texte
de référence or teacher’s handbook for the catechism prepared
by the French episcopate covers also the creating of groups which
will be “mini-churches” destined to re-create tomorrow’s Church
on the lines that the modernists thought they could discern at
the birth of the Apostolic Church: “In the catechism group, teachers,
parents and children contribute their experiences of life, their
deep yearnings, religious imagery and a certain knowledge of the
things of faith. A confrontation ensues which is a condition
of truth to the extent that it stirs up their deep aspirations
and produces an authentic commitment to the changes that any contact
with the Gospel inevitably produces. It is only after the experience
of a separation, a conversion, a sort of death, that by the help
of grace a confession of faith can be made.”
So it is the bishops who put into
effect, in broad daylight, the modernist tactics condemned by
St. Pius X! It is all in this paragraph13--read
it again carefully: religious feeling stirred up by a need, deep
yearnings, truth that takes shape in the sharing of experiences,
the changing of dogmas and the breach with Tradition. For the
modernists the sacraments, too, originate in a need, “for as has
been observed, in their system necessity or need is the great
all-embracing explanation.” Religion needs a tangible body: “The
sacraments (for them) are simply signs of symbols, although endowed
with efficacy. They compare them to certain words which have a
vogue because of their power of expressing and disseminating impressive,
inspiring ideas. As much as to say that the sacraments were only
instituted to nourish faith: a proposition which the Council of
Trent condemned.”
One finds this idea again, to take
an example, in the writings of Besret, who was an “expert” at
the Council: “It is not the sacrament which brings God's love
into the world. His love is at work in every man. The sacrament
is the moment of its public manifesting in the community of the
disciples... In saying this, I in no way intend to deny the efficacious
aspect of the sacramental signs. Man fulfils himself by self-expression,
and that is true for the sacraments as it is for the rest of his
activity.”14
And the books of Holy Writ? For the
Modernists, they are “the record of experiences undergone in a
given religion.” God speaks through these books, but He is the
God who is within us. The books are inspired rather as one speaks
of poetic inspiration; inspiration is likened to the urgent need
felt by the believer to communicate his faith in writing. The
Bible is human work.
In Pierres Vivantes,l5
the children are told that Genesis is “a poem” written once upon
a time by believers who “had reflected.” This compilation, imposed
on all catechism children by the French episcopate, exudes Modernism
on nearly every page. Let us draw up a short parallel:
ST. PIUS X: “It is a law (for the
modernists) that the dates of the documents cannot be determined
otherwise than by the dates of the needs which successively made
themselves felt in the Church.”
PIERRES VIVANTES: “To help these
communities to live the Gospel, some of the Apostles wrote them
letters, also called Epistles... but above all the Apostles related
by word of mouth what Jesus had done among them and what He had
said. Later on, four writers-Mark, Matthew, Luke and John--put
into writing what the Apostles had said.” Dates of the Gospels:
Mark about 70 A.D.? Luke about 80-90? Matthew about 880-90? John
about 95-100. They recounted the events of Jesus’ life, His words
and especially His death and resurrection to enlighten the
faith of the believers.”
ST. PIUS X: “In the sacred scriptures
(they say) there are many places where science or history enter,
where obvious errors are to be found. Yet it is not history or
science that these books are treating of, but solely religion
and morality.”
PIERRES VIVANTES: “The book (Genesis)
is a poem, not a science manual. Science tells us that it took
millions of years for life to appear.” “The Gospels do not tell
the story of the life of Jesus in the same way that today’s events
are reported on the radio or the television or in the newspapers.”
ST. PIUS X: “They do not hesitate
to affirm that the books in question, expecially the Pentateuch
and the first three Gospels, were gradually formed by additions
made to a very short original narrative: interpolations in the
form of theological or allegorical interpretations, or simply
linking-passages and tackings-on.”
PIERRES VIVANTES: “What is written
in most of these books had previously been related orally from
father to son. One day someone wrote it down to transmit it in
his turn; and often what he wrote was re-written by others for
yet other people... 538, the Persian domination: reflections and
traditions become books. About 400 B.C., Esdras collects together
various books to make of them the Law or Pentateuch. The scrolls
of the Prophets are composed. The reflections of the Sages produce
various masterpieces.”
Catholics who wonder at the new language
employed in the “Conciliar Church” will be helped by knowing that
it is not so new: that Lammenais, Fuchs and Loisy were already
using it in the last century, and that they themselves had only
picked up all the errors which had been current for ages. But
the religion of Christ has not changed and never will: we must
not let ourselves be imposed upon.
13
Texte de référence, para. 312.
14
De commencement en commencement, p. 176.
15
See Chapter VIII.