SIR ISAAC
Newton was unquestionably one of the most
brilliant minds England produced, but that did not make him a great biblical
interpreter. He spends the bulk of his treatise on the prophecies of Daniel and
Revelation attempting to prove that the acquiring of temporal power by the
bishop of Rome in the ninth century and following was indisputable proof that
the Pope was none other than the antichrist foretold in these Scriptures. His
evidence is tendentiously laid out, and he exerts abundant energy drawing exact
correspondences between the details in these apocalyptic works and minute and
arcane events that were already long past when he wrote this work. All of this
builds into a crescendo when he unveils his most dramatic and sensational
proof: “His mark is +++, and his name ΛΑΤΕΙΝΟΣ
[Lateinos], and the
number of his name 666.”
I suppose that many of the readers of this article will find
this shocking. At least I hope that you do. But it is worth recalling that
Newton’s reasoning was very convincing to a man as intelligent and educated as
the Anglican John Henry Newman, as he confesses in defense of his conversion to
Catholicism in his classic Apologia Pro
Vita Sua
.
The reason this stance could seem so reasonable to both
Newman and Newton is that long before either of them had come to be, Archbishop
Cranmer had established the identity of the antichrist with the Pope and made
it a fundamental point of Anglican doctrine. For instance, the “Exhortation to
Obedience” that appears in the First Book of Homilies compiled by Cranmer for
publication in 1547 (his successor, Matthew Parker expressly mentions the
Homilies in Article Thirty-Five of the Thirty-Nine Articles) explicitly
identifies the Pope as the antichrist:
For our Saviour Christ, and S. Peter, teacheth
most earnestly and agreeably obedience to Kings, as to the chiefe and supreme
rulers in this world, next under GOD: but the Bishop of Rome teacheth, that
they that are under him, are free from all burdens and charges of the common
wealth, and obedience toward their Prince, most clearely against Christs
doctrine and S. Peters. He ought therefore rather to be called Antichrist, and
the successour of the Scribes and Pharises, than Christs vicar, or S. Peters
successour: seeing that not onely in this point, but also in other weighty
matters of Christian religion, in matters of remission and forgivenesse of
sinnes, and of salvation, hee teacheth so directly against both S. Peter, and against
our Saviour Christ, who not onely taught obedience to Kings, but also practised
obedience in their conversation and living.
Cranmer was surely simply expounding upon Luther on this
point. It is well known that Luther recognized the Pope as the antichrist. The
Smalcald Articles (1537) put it all plain enough:
II.IV.9. Therefore
the Church can never be better governed and preserved than if we all live under
one head, Christ, and all the bishops equal in office (although they be unequal
in gifts), be diligently joined in unity of doctrine, faith, Sacraments,
prayer, and works of love, etc., as St. Jerome writes that the priests at
Alexandria together and in common governed the churches, as did also the
apostles, and afterwards all bishops throughout all Christendom, until the Pope
raised his head above all.
10. This teaching shows
forcefully that the Pope is the very Antichrist, who has exalted himself above,
and opposed himself against Christ because he will not permit Christians to be
saved without his power, which, nevertheless, is nothing, and is neither
ordained nor commanded by God.
11. This is,
properly speaking to exalt himself above all that is called God as
Paul says, 2 Thess. 2:4. Even the Turks or the Tartars, great enemies of
Christians as they are, do not do this, but they allow whoever wishes to
believe in Christ, and take bodily tribute and obedience from Christians.
Jean Calvin,
in Article Eighteen of the Geneva Confession, does not use the term
“antichrist,” but his words are no more pleasant to the ears of Catholics: “the churches governed by the ordinances of the pope are
rather synagogues of the devil than Christian churches.”
The Westminster Confession, crafted by
Anglican divines, but adhered to by Presbyterians, does not mince words: “There
is no other head of the Church but the Lord Jesus Christ. Nor can the Pope of
Rome, in any sense, be head thereof: but is that Antichrist, that man of sin,
and son of perdition, that exalteth himself, in the Church, against Christ and
all that is called God” (xxxv, 6). The Cambridge Platform of Church Discipline
drafted by the Congregationalists of Massachusetts in 1648 quotes these words
nearly verbatim, as does the 1689 London Baptist Confession of Faith.
Rounding out dominant Anglo-American
expressions of Christian faith, John Wesley says in his Explanatory Notes
on Revelation 13, “The whole succession of Popes
from Gregory VII are undoubtedly Antichrists. Yet this hinders not,
but that the last Pope in this succession will be more eminently the
Antichrist, the Man of Sin, adding to that of his predecessors a peculiar
degree of wickedness from the bottomless pit.”
It is tempting for those of us
Catholics who want to politely avoid conflict to imagine that these are the
opinions of a younger, more bigoted Protestantism. Didn’t Vatican II
demonstrate that Catholics and non-Catholic Christians could be friends? Hasn’t
ecumenical dialogue established that our differences are significant, but
essentially minor in light of the salvation offered by God the Father through
Jesus Christ?
Alas, the suspicion that the Pope might
be the antichrist is not just a nineteenth century fad for conspiracy theorists
with a theological bent. Consider, if you will, the case of Robert Jeffress.
Jeffress is a pastor in the Southern Baptist denomination, the second largest
Christian denomination in the U.S. and the largest Protestant one; he pastors
the First Baptist Church of Dallas, one of the largest congregations in the
nation with over 12,000 members. But Jeffress also has nationwide exposure,
because he has a popular, nationally syndicated radio program that broadcasts
his sermons, Pathway to Victory
.
Finally, he has recently become a member of Trump's Evangelical Advisory Board
and the White House Faith Initiative. That is not the resume you typically find
listed for crackpot religious fanatics.
But in 2010, Jeffress preached these
words, and chose to include them in a broadcast of Pathway to Victory
:
This is the
Babylonian mystery religion that spread like a cult throughout the entire
world. The high priests of that fake religion, that false religion, the high
priests of that religion would wear crowns that resemble the heads of fish,
that was in order to worship the fish god Dagon, and on those crowns were
written the words, ‘Keeper of the Bridge,’ the bridge between Satan and man.
That phrase, Keeper
of the Bridge—the Roman equivalent of it is Pontifex Maximus. It was a title
that was first carried by the Caesars and then the emperors and finally by the
Bishop of the Rome, Pontifex Maximus, the Keeper of the Bridge.
You can see where
we’re going with this. It is that Babylonian mystery religion that infected the
early church. One of the churches it infected was the church of Pergamos, which
is one of the recipients of the Book of Revelation. And the early church was
corrupted by this Babylonian mystery religion, and today the Roman Catholic
Church is the result of that corruption.
Much of what you see
in the Catholic Church today doesn’t come from God’s word; it comes from that
cultlike, pagan religion. Now you say, ‘Pastor, how can you say such a thing? That
is such an indictment of the Catholic Church. After all, the Catholic Church
talks about God and the Bible and Jesus and the blood of Christ and salvation.’
Isn’t that the genius
of Satan? If you want to counterfeit a dollar bill, you don’t do it with purple
paper and red ink. You’re not going to fool anybody with that. But if you want
to counterfeit money, what you do is make it look closely related to the real
thing as possible.
(Stephen Young, “Here’s What First Baptist Dallas Pastor
Robert Jeffress Actually Said about Catholics—in Context,” The Dallas Observer,
10/27/17)
But you don’t have to be a
Fundamentalist like Jeffress to still believe that the Pope is the antichrist. Paragraph
43 of the “Brief Statement of the Doctrinal Position of the Missouri Synod,” a
document adopted in 1932, but still regarded as authoritative has this to say
about the Pope:
As
to the Antichrist we teach that the prophecies of the Holy Scriptures
concerning the Antichrist, 2 Thess. 2:3-12; 1 John 2:18, have been fulfilled in
the Pope of Rome and his dominion. All the features of the Antichrist as drawn
in these prophecies, including the most abominable and horrible ones, for
example, that the Antichrist “as God sitteth in the temple of God,” 2 Thess.
2:4; that he anathematizes the very heart of the Gospel of Christ, that is, the
doctrine of the forgiveness of sins by grace alone, for Christ’s sake alone,
through faith alone, without any merit or worthiness in man (Rom. 3:20-28; Gal.
2:16); that he recognizes only those as members of the Christian Church who bow
to his authority; and that, like a deluge, he had inundated the whole Church
with his antichristian doctrines till God revealed him through the Reformation—these
very features are the outstanding characteristics of the Papacy.
Likewise, the Wisconsin Synod adopted a
“Statement on the Antichrist” in 1959. Section IV of that statement says:
Therefore
on the basis of a renewed study of the pertinent Scriptures we reaffirm the
statement of the Lutheran Confessions, that “the Pope is the very Antichrist”…,
especially since he anathematizes the doctrine of the justification by faith
alone and sets himself up as the infallible head of the Church.
We
thereby affirm that we identify this “Antichrist” with the Papacy as it is
known to us today, which shall, as 2 Thessalonians 2:8 states, continue to the
end of time, whatever form or guise it may take. This neither means nor implies
a blanket condemnation of all members of the Roman Catholic Church, for despite
all the errors taught in that church the Word of God is still heard there, and
that Word is an effectual Word. Isa 55:10, 11; cf. Apology XXIV, 98, cited above
under II.
We
make this confession in the confidence of faith. The Antichrist cannot deceive
us if we remain under the revelation given us in the Apostolic word (2 Th.
2:13-17), for in God’s gracious governance of history the Antichrist can
deceive only those who “refused to love the truth” (2 Th. 2:10-12).
And
we make this confession in the confidence of hope. The Antichrist shall not
destroy us but shall himself be destroyed—“Whom the Lord Jesus will overthrow
with the breath of his mouth and destroy by the splendor of his coming” (2 Th.
2:8).
We
reject the idea that the fulfillment of this prophecy is to be sought in the
workings of any merely secular political power (2 Th. 2:4; cf. Treatise on the Power and the Primacy of the
Pope, 39).
We
reject the idea that the teaching that the Papacy is the Antichrist rests on a
merely human interpretation of history or is an open question. We hold rather
that this teaching rests on the revelation of God in Scripture which finds its
fulfillment in history. The Holy Spirit reveals this fulfillment to the eyes of
faith (cf. The Abiding Word, Vol. 2,
p. 764). Since Scripture teaches that the Antichrist would be revealed and
gives the marks by which the Antichrist is to be recognized (2 Th. 2:6,8), and
since this prophecy has been clearly fulfilled in the history and development
of the Roman Papacy, it is Scripture which reveals that the Papacy is the
Antichrist.
By now the pattern is fairly evident.
There are variations, of course. Sometimes in Protestant literature the Pope is
depicted not as the
antichrist, but
as an
antichrist; often he is said to
be second beast (given the label “false prophet” in Revelation 19:20) of
Revelation 13, or else he is simply made out to be a precursor of the
antichrist to come. In any case, the trope retains the same basic outline: the
Bishop of Rome is in league with Satan, and is the head of a vast, worldwide
conspiracy to lead people away from the truth of the Gospel and to believe a
counterfeit religious system that may well result in their damnation. Usually
this scheme involves a complicated attempt to unite the world’s religions under
one system. Hence, ecumenical activities (like those promoted by the Eighth Day
Institute!) are often viewed with extreme suspicion, especially when the Pope
or a member of the papal curia endorses them.
In more modern times, a number of
Eastern Orthodox clergy have begun to echo Protestant end-times sensationalists
in regards to the Pope. Just a few weeks ago, during Pope Francis’ visit to
Bulgaria, Metropolitan Nikolay of Plovdiv labeled the trip an “attack on
Orthodoxy.” He promoted an eschatological conspiracy theory about Pope Francis’
motives for visiting the country: “The goal is to unite all the churches around
Rome, and when the Antichrist comes, for the Pope to meet him” (Winfield,
Nicole and Toshkov, Veselin, “Pope in
Bulgaria says refugees need love; Orthodox stay away.” Associated Press
:
May
6, 2019 ).
This is not an isolated incident. About
a year after he became Pope, Metropolitans Seraphim of Piraeus and Filaro and
Andrew of Dryinoupolis, Pogoniani and Konitsa published a lengthy open-letter
to Francis full of the most incredible charges against Pope Francis personally
and the Catholic Church as an institution. The letter manages to work in nearly
as much anti-Semitism and anti-Protestantism as it does anti-Catholicism. It
concludes with this amazing statement: “Truly, Your Excellency, what good can
you possibly offer to the Orthodox, you who are the chosen Jesuit ‘Pope’ of the
Jews, of the Rabbis, of the masons, of the dictators, of America, of Ecumenism,
of Pan-religion, of the ‘New Age of Aquarius,’ and of the ‘New World Order’?” (Metropolitan
Seraphim and Metropolitan Andrew, A Letter
to Pope Francis Concerning His Past, the Abysmal State of Papism, and a Plea to
Return to Holy Orthodoxy
. The Orthodox Christian Information Center: April
14, 2014). Well before this, when Pope John Paul II visited Greece
in 2001, he was greeted with massive, public protests featuring banners
denouncing him as “antichrist” (CNN.com/World, “Papal visit sparks Greek
protests”: May 4, 2001 ).
Perhaps most remarkable is the recent
phenomenon in which American Catholic media persona who were wont to advertise
themselves as “faithful to the magisterium” during the pontificates of Popes
John Paul II and Benedict XVI have adopted the eschatological madness of the more
extreme, non-Catholic radio preachers, and identified Pope Francis as at least
animated by the antichrist spirit. Steve Skojec is one of the more popular
examples. On his website, onepeterfive.com, he has attacked Francis for a
number of years. In August 14, 2018, this all built to a head. Opening his
essay with a citation of Daniel 7:25, which speaks of the “little horn’s” war
against the saints of God, he wrote the following: “I wrote before, years ago, that I believe Pope Francis to
be a type
of the Antichrist. A forerunner. A precursor. A man
who ‘shares some noteworthy characteristics and ideological predilections that
have long been foretold’ of this apocalyptic figure” (Steve Skojec,
“Playing With Fire: Rosica, Francis, and the Spirit of the Antichrist”: August
14, 2018 ).
The essay continues with the same sort of loosely strung
together evidence that anyone can encounter in Alexander Hislop’s Two Babylons
or a Chick Tract. Needless
to say, this is not the sort of thing that you expect to encounter on a
Catholic website, particularly from someone who has made guest appearances on
EWTN and contributed articles to Crisis
magazine.
Another Catholic news source that
routinely features anti-Francis stories is Lifesite
News
. They are not as explicit in their insinuations that Francis is in
league with the prince of darkness, but they drop some pretty big breadcrumbs
to lead their readers to that conclusion. Earlier this year, when the logo for
Pope Francis’ visit to Morocco was unveiled, they quoted a number of unnamed
“sources” who saw in the image of the cross superimposed over the crescent of
Islam a token of Pope Francis’ commitment to religious syncretism. These mysterious
sources invoked a comparison with the syncretism heralded by the villains of C.
S. Lewis’ apocalyptic novel, The Last
Battle
: “It mirrors ‘the syncretism of Aslan and Tash invented by the
Narnian version of the Antichrist,’ one source told LifeSite” (Diane
Montagna, “Tashlan comes to town:
Vatican releases combined cross and crescent logo for Pope’s trip to Morocco,” LifeSite News
: January 8, 2019).
Thanks be to God, opinions can change
on almost anything, including the identification of the Pope with Antichrist. I
began this piece with a reference to the forcefulness that Sir Isaac Newton’s
arguments on this matter exercised upon the young theological mind of John Henry
Newman. By degrees, exposure to the Early Church Fathers forced him from this
uncharitable position. He describes this shift in opinion in Part V of the 1865
edition of his Apologia
:
By 1838 I had got no
further than to consider Antichrist, as not the Church of Rome, but the spirit
of the old pagan city, the fourth monster of Daniel, which was still alive, and
which had corrupted the Church which was planted there. Soon after this indeed,
and before my attention was directed to the Monophysite controversy, I
underwent a great change of opinion. I saw that, from the nature of the case,
the true Vicar of Christ must ever to the world seem like Antichrist, and be
stigmatized as such, because a resemblance must ever exist between an original
and a forgery; and thus the fact of such a calumny was almost one of the notes
of the Church. But we cannot unmake ourselves or change our habits in a moment.
Though my reason was convinced, I did not throw off, for some time after, the
unreasoning prejudice and suspicion, which I cherished about her, at least by
fits and starts, in spite of conviction of my reason.
This process of gradually being weaned
off of suspicions of the Pope being the antichrist is quite familiar to me.
Because I did not grow up in a denomination with an established creed, there
was no doctrinal standard about the antichrist that my church held to. For the
most part, my preachers shied away from eschatological matters, deeming them
too controversial and sensationalistic. But Catholicism was the mother of
denominations, and in some sense, held responsible for the apostasy that
Christendom had suffered. One of my most revered Bible college professors, in a
lesson on Daniel 7, taught us that the little horn was the antichrist known as
the Pope of the Catholic Church. I had other professors who would have disputed
this, but only reluctantly. My Church history professor told us that the only
reason that Catholicism was somewhat respected by other Christians is because
it had the veneer of antiquity. If someone were to start the same religion in
modern times, mature Christians would have immediately recognized it as a wacky
cult.
Years later, my wife and I were working
in a Messianic Jewish congregation in Beer-Sheva, Israel. The pastor who I was
serving under held some very anti-Catholic prejudices, and when I challenged
them, we found ourselves at odds with one another. He attempted to sway me with
literature that can best be described as a revisionist history of the Church. Anyone
who had challenged the authority of the Catholic Church, no matter how
heretical they might be, was made out to be a hero and a precursor of
Protestant Christianity. This included examples as extreme as the Bogomils,
Cathars, and Albigensians. As a result, I began my own personal study of the
early Church to determine whether or not the Pope really was the antichrist,
and if so, when he had emerged as such. Ironically, my wife and I owe much to
this anti-Catholic pastor for indirectly persuading us that the Bishop of Rome
is actually the successor of Peter.
One day, in the midst of this study, I
was overcome with grief for my previous ill will towards the Catholic Church. I
had recently made the acquaintance of a Catholic priest from France who was
serving the tiny parish in Beer-Sheva. I called him up and made an appointment.
I’ll never forget how awkward that first private conversation with Fr. Paul
was. He sat blinking at me over his pipe while I attempted, in broken Hebrew,
to express my sorrow for my prior bigotry toward the Catholic Church. I knew
that I wanted to get something off of my chest, but I wasn’t sure exactly how
to go about it. He was utterly confused, especially when I burst into tears,
completely to my own surprise. He made a kind-hearted but obviously bewildered
attempt to comfort me, accepted my apology, but did not make any illusions of
trying to demonstrate that he knew just why I was asking for his forgiveness.
It didn’t matter. I felt better. I thanked him. A few months later, I would
return and ask him to receive my family into the Catholic Church, and he would
eventually become a source of great counsel to us, as well as a dear friend.
For both Newman and myself, coming to
terms with our personal, anti-Catholic heritage was part of a repentant journey
that resulted, ultimately, in casting aside our non-Catholic identities and, as individuals
, coming into full
communion with the Catholic Church that has the Pope as its visible, spiritual
head. In his Theological Reflections on
Vatican II
, Joseph Ratzinger, who served as a peritus during the Council,
explains why he does not think that this sort of individualistic
conversion is the ideal manner of restoring unity
to the Church. Rather, what we should be hoping and working towards is the
restoration of entire non-Catholic churches and ecclesial communities to
communion with the Roman Church. This would require allowing these faith
communities to retain their local and integral identities and traditions, and
even, inasmuch as it might be possible, (and to what extent this can be has
never been thoroughly explored), allowing them some measure of doctrinal
autonomy. (This is surely in reference more to the manner
of teaching the faith, rather than the content
of this faith).
I think that Fr. Georges Florovsky, the other
patron of our Florovsky-Newman
Week, and a Russian Orthodox priest and theologian, would substantially agree
with this model of pursuing Christian unity. When Pope Paul VI met with
Patriarch Athenagoras of Constantinople in the Holy Land in 1964, Florovsky
responded with a very sober expression of hope. His words are surely worthy of
consideration today, 55 years later:
The Palestinian meeting of the Patriarchs—of the new and the old Rome, long and still divided—is, in any case, a timely reminder, in fact a double reminder, of the fact of separation and of the task of unity. A reminder and a summons.
. . . This is only the beginning of the way. In the apt expression of St. Basil the Great, “the beginning of the way is not
yet the way.” The question now is how the voice of the Church will respond to
this reminder and summons. The subject of Rome is once again brought before Orthodox consciousness. For some, Rome is a Church, even though a
“separated Church.” For others, Rome is simply outside the Church. There are similar disagreements among Roman theologians, with a
variety of nuances. The question of Rome is a question of ecclesiology
(“A Sign of Contradiction” translated by Fr. Matthew Baker in Dialogue of Love: Breaking the Silence of Centuries
edited by John Chryssavgis).
So, no shortcuts towards unity.
That said, it is quite apparent that
there cannot even be meaningful dialogue towards unity between Catholics and
other Christians while suspicions that the Bishop of Rome whom Catholics
identify as the very symbol of unity might in fact be the antichrist.
Unfortunately, out of a misplaced sense of politeness, I find that
non-Catholics avoid the issue. This is not helpful at all. We will never be
able to have an honest conversation about the papacy as long as we skirt around
it because it makes us uncomfortable.
Perhaps (a rather extreme) example will
illustrate my frustration. About fifteen years ago, not long after we had
become Catholic, some of my wife’s Catholic family came to visit us in Israel.
Naturally enough, we took them on a tour of the holy sites. One morning we were
visiting the Mount of Beatitudes, and before leaving the site, our friends
wanted to pop into the souvenir shop attached to the grounds there. For some
reason, we caught the attention of a pastor’s wife who was on pilgrimage with a
large group. (I guess our Evangelical scent had not quite worn off). She
intercepted us on the way into the door, and said, “You need to know that just
up the road there is a lovely gift shop owned by a family of true, Christian
believers. You should go and support them. A large portion of every dollar you
spend here goes straight to the Vatican, and is used to promote the false
gospel of the antichrist and keep unbelievers in bondage.”
Where she had heard this slander, I
have no idea, but I can assure you that “the Vatican” sees very little of the
money made at any of the souvenir shops in the holy land. The families running
the shops make a comfortable living for themselves, and the shops that are
attached to the holy sites such as this one also contribute to the upkeep of
the sites and the religious communities that maintain them. But I did not even
bother with correcting this. Instead, I firmly but politely let the
well-meaning woman know that we were in fact Catholic, and actually wouldn’t
mind some of our money being used for evangelism by “the Vatican.” And then I
braced myself for a fight.
The fight didn’t come. Instead, the
woman’s demeanor suddenly changed, and she began to bubble about all of the
Catholics she knew who were indeed real, Bible-believing Christians. We
couldn’t get away in time to avoid her pastor-husband taking notice of us, and
joining in to share about all of the ecumenical dialogue he participates in
back home. “Oh, some of my strongest Christian friendships are with priests I
know in this pastoral association back home. Strong men of God, filled with the
Spirit. And so committed to the pro-life movement!” And on it went for a
miserable five minutes or so.
These sorts of encounters happen all of
the time, although usually not with such a sudden shift in tone. I do not know
what to make of them. But I cannot ignore my growing suspicion that many of the
non-Catholics who tell me how dear this or that exceptional Catholic in their
life might be are simply being insincere. I would prefer that they would tell
me that as long as I claim allegiance to the Bishop of Rome, I am damned to
hell. After all, if they really
believe that I am endangering my soul by being a Catholic, shouldn’t Christian
charity compel them to warn me?
We mentioned Robert Jeffress and his
sensational, 2010 anti-Catholic sermon earlier. Years later, when he gained a
national spotlight because of his involvement in the Trump-campaign, this
sermon was dug up because of an invitation his church made to Sean Hannity to
speak to the congregation; Hannity happens to be a practicing Roman Catholic.
Quite understandably, people wanted to know why he would permit a devotee to
rewarmed-Dagon-hat-wearing paganism to potentially lead his flock astray. What
was different? Jeffress insisted to the Religion News Service that his earlier
statements about Catholicism had been “ripped out of their context,” and claimed
that he had always recognized Hannity as a “fellow Christian.” “No one goes to
heaven in a group. We go one by one based on our relationship with Christ. … There
will be millions of Catholics in heaven who have put their faith in Christ for
the forgiveness of their sins. There will also be millions of Baptists in hell
who have not put their faith in Christ” (Jonathan Merritt, “Why pastor Robert Jeffress’ interview with
Sean Hannity was so maddening to so many,” October 25, 2017).
The
Presbyterian Church (USA) has carried out a very similar thing, although with
the sort of careful, educated classiness for which they have a reputation.
Their Book of Confessions
includes
the Westminster Confession, including section xxxv, 6, but
instead of mentioning the antichrist, they have reworded it so that it is an
affirmation of the presbyterial model of church governance.
Why should this bother me, a Catholic?
Because no one has dealt with the original words of the Westminster Confession.
They have simply swept the libel against the Pope under the rug, where it won’t
have to embarrass anyone any more. Now we can get past all of that awkward,
eschatological stuff. But some Catholics have long memories. As far as I can
tell, neither the Church of Scotland nor the Presbyterian churches that are
descended from her have ever issued a formal apology for anti-Catholic bigotry.
We cannot pretend that nothing ever came of those libels. John Knox, the father
of the Church of Scotland, describes in vivid detail in his History of the Reformation in Scotland
what happened on May 11, 1559, when he preached a sermon against Catholic
idolatry in St. John the Baptist’s Church in Perth and roused the congregation
to action against the religious houses in their neighborhood. For the next two
days, the populace rioted, and when they were done, they had looted, desecrated
and destroyed four monasteries
in the
locale. This is just one horrific incident among many. But no more has been
done to express sorrow for even this one act of violence against houses of
worship than to get rid of the embarrassing mention of the antichrist in the
Westminster Confession.
Admittedly, it took Catholics a while
to get around to apologizing for our own crimes against Protestants, some of
which helped to provoke the outbreak of violence at St. John the Baptist’s
Church. But recently, our popes have made a number of public apologies, and
begged for forgiveness. For instance, in 2000, Pope John Paul II said, “We are
asking pardon for the divisions among Christians, for the use of violence that
some have committed in the service of truth, and for attitudes of mistrust and
hostility assumed toward followers of other religions” (news.bbc.co.uk, “Pope apologises for church sins,”
Sunday, 12 March, 2000).
And in January of 2016, Pope Francis asked for forgiveness for “the un-gospel like behavior by
Catholics towards Christians of other Churches” (Reuters, “Why
Pope Francis Just Asked Protestants for Forgiveness”). But it seems to me that this new habit of
making apologies for the injustices of the Reformation era is up to this point
uniquely Catholic. If we are really to move forward in dialogue with one
another, we cannot keep avoiding the antichrist-libel.
For this
reason, I have a great deal more respect for Lutherans of the Wisconsin and
Missouri Synods. At least they are consistent and faithful to their founding
documents, without shying away from the difficult parts of them. I see in these
two churches worthy and honorable rivals who are not yet ready to concede any
common ground too quickly. And yet, I must confess, they too perplex me. My
Lutheran friends express to me their esteem for Catholic theologians, including
one who would become a Pope towards the end of his career, Joseph Ratzinger.
How can it be possible to benefit from exposure to theology espoused by the
antichrist? Look, if you heard someone say, “Oh, he’s the antichrist, all right, but he’s a pretty good
one, and his writings have helped me grow theologically,” you’d think that they
were daft, wouldn’t you? But isn’t that what Lutheran Ratzinger fan-boys have
to say, if they subscribe to the Book of
Concord
?
So, I’m
confused. I’m not crazy am I? Whether or not the Pope is the antichrist should
be a pretty big deal for Catholics and the Protestants who love them, shouldn’t
it be? Then let’s stop being so polite, and begin the hard work of encountering
one another on that question. We live in a blessed time where we can have these
discussions without fear of bloodshed. Let’s take advantage of it, rather than
dancing awkwardly around it and pretending that we’ve always just got on
famously with one another. I think that we are finally at a point in history
where we have realized that we want to get along with one another. But being too
nice will simply sabotage it all.
Matthew Umbarger
is an Assistant Professor of Theology at Newman
University who specializes in Old Testament Interpretation.
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