By P. Jerry J. Pokorsky
Sometimes it is a pleasure to put your feet up with the Ignatius Bible on your lap and spend a couple of hours reading the Gospels or some of those moving stories from the Old Testament. The experience can be so absorbing that it becomes easy to wonder whether we need priests, bishops, and popes… or even the Church. (Protestants have been doing it for 500 years.) Why not set them all aside as mere complicating factors and enjoy the bliss of sola Scriptura? Well, a few annoying details stand out.
The Gospels recount the glorious words and deeds of Jesus. After the miraculous multiplication of the loaves, the Apostles cross the sea and encounter Jesus walking on the waters. Jesus stirs Peter’s momentary faith, but saves him from sinking in a moment of doubt. On land, the crowds seek Jesus as their “Bread King,” but he reveals a startling truth: Jesus is the Bread of Life, and unless we eat his Body and drink his Blood, we have no life in us.
Except for the Apostles, the disciples scatter in unbelief. The Apostles do not thumb through their Bibles (which they did not have anyway). Peter asks: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”
The Gospel narrative reaches its decisive moment (Matthew 16:13-20). Jesus asks his disciples: “Who do men say that I am?” They answer: Elijah, John the Baptist, or one of the prophets. But Peter, under the influence of the Holy Spirit, bears witness to the messianic divinity of Jesus: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God!”
Jesus responds with words that may be difficult for Christians of the Bible alone to read: “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church, and the gates of Hell shall not prevail against it.” It is a tall order. Peter? The Church? Protected from the assaults of the Devil?
From a Bible-alone perspective (what Luther codified as sola Scriptura), it is an uncomfortable truth. Why was a Church necessary, to begin with? And if it was necessary, could he not have done better with a qualified man, highly educated, sophisticated in the ways of the world, and well connected with the Jewish elites? Why did Jesus need to identify a mere mortal—and a fisherman at that—as his vicar? And yet, after the Resurrection, at Pentecost, the Church emerges publicly under the apostolic leadership of Peter.
We know much of the rest of the story. The Apostles went out into the world to preach the Gospel. Peter’s ministry ended abruptly in Rome, where he was crucified. For a couple of hundred years, his successors met similar fates. And yet, somehow, the gates of Hell did not prevail over the nascent Church. That Bible did not float down from heaven. It was born in the Church, recognized within the Church, and authoritatively confirmed by its bishops and popes.
Fast-forward to the twenty-first century. We have won. We have leather-bound Bibles. Some Protestant Bibles omit important books. Thomas Jefferson literally took scissors to the pages of the book and produced a Bible without miracles, limited by Jeffersonian rationalism. Many modern Catholic translations of the Bible are marked by political correctness. Despite a few flaws—with a Bible on our laps—people often get in the way, unless they bring lunch or dinner.
The history of the Church is painful. Critics of the popes have always found grounds for complaint. Some popes have seemed too silent; others have spoken too much. Some have exceeded their authority. Others have not used it properly. Medieval popes were often so worldly that they scarcely had time to govern the Church. It is no wonder that the Protestant revolt gained so much ground in the sixteenth century. Today, churchmen who oppose the modern machinery of death in its various forms are accused of ivory-tower naïveté. Who needs a Church?
And yet, year after year, century after century, the Church’s teaching somehow remains coherent while developing organically in depth and understanding. Simple faithful often identify deviations from apostolic Tradition more readily than highly trained theological experts. And yet, the Church’s solemn pronouncements are publicly available and verifiable.
Without an authoritative Church to resolve competing interpretations, the Bible-alone Christian may find himself entering a surreal world of confusion. One biblical doctrine is emphasized at the expense of another, and in the end the essential question becomes: what, precisely, must one believe for salvation?
Faith is a good and necessary beginning, but without love—as St. Paul writes to the Corinthians—we are nothing but noisy gongs. Without love and repentance, and the assistance of God’s grace, we cannot attain heavenly glory. Scripture itself leads us to divine Revelation, to the Ten Commandments, to the Sacraments, and to prayer.
So, of course, put your feet up with the Ignatius Bible (or the Douay-Rheims) on your lap. Read it. Pray it. But do not forget to ask the question Peter answered: “Lord, to whom shall we go?”
Start by going to Mass.
About the author
Father Jerry J. Pokorsky is a priest of the Diocese of Arlington. He is pastor of St. Catherine of Siena Parish in Great Falls, Virginia.