Once we understand Jesus’ words to Peter in the framework of their Jewish background, the meaning of the binding and loosening become clear. The Lutheran professor Tord Fornberg explains that “Peter stands out as a kind of Chief Rabbi, who binds and loosens, in the sense of declaring something to be forbidden or permitted.” In support of this interpretation is the promise Jesus gives with the authority. Not only is Peter given the ability to bind and loosen, but “whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven” (Matt. 16:19).

This promise of heavenly ratification is extremely Jewish. Hans Bayer, a Presbyterian theologian, concedes that in rabbinic usage, “binding” and “loosening” signify that “various decisions especially of the Sanhedrin,” primarily interpreting the law or including or excluding members from the community, were “viewed as subsequently sanctioned by God.” As Rabbi Kauffman Kohler explains: 

The various [rabbinical&91; schools had the power “to bind and to loose”; that is, to forbid and to permit; and they could bind any day by declaring it a fast-day. This power and authority, vested in the rabbinical body of each age or in the Sanhedrin . . . received its ratification and final sanction from the celestial court of justice.

For instance, the rabbis taught that the liturgical year was set by the earthly authorities and that this calendar was then ratified in heaven. It’s within this context that we can understand the prophet Joel’s admonition to the priests to “sanctify a fast” and “call a solemn assembly” (Joel 1:13-14). Such an authority might sound trivial today, but the Jewish people centered their lives on the liturgical calendar. We get hints of this in the New Testament. When Jesus returns to Galilee, “the Galileans welcomed him, having seen all that he had done in Jerusalem at the feast, for they too had gone to the feast” (John 4:45). A few verses later, Jesus returns to Jerusalem, because “there was a feast of the Jews” (5:1). The religious leaders capable of setting these feasts thus wielded a tremendous amount of authority over the daily lives of the people.  

This authority wasn’t limited to liturgical determinations. It also included the ability to settle disputes about the interpretation of Scripture. The Levitical priests were traditionally the authoritative interpreters of the Torah, which is why God laments that for “a long time Israel was without the true God, and without a teaching priest, and without law” (2 Chron. 15:3). If there were questions about “one kind of legal right and another,” if a case became “too difficult for you,” then you could bring it to the priests, whereby “you shall consult them, and they shall declare to you the decision,” and whatever “the decision which they pronounce to you, you shall do; you shall not turn aside from the verdict which they declare to you, either to the right hand or to the left” (Deut. 17:8-13; cf. 2 Chron. 19:8-11). This commandment is shocking, since the language mirrors the fidelity we owe to God’s own commands: “you shall be careful to do therefore as the Lord your God has commanded you; you shall not turn aside to the right hand or to the left” (Deut. 5:32).  

The priest, and particularly the high priest, was viewed as being divinely protected with a sort of infallibility, in the particular context of binding and loosening. It’s for this reason that, when Jesus and the apostles are arrested, they are brought before the high priest and the Sanhedrin (John 18:19-40; Acts 5:17-52). At first blush, this seems to be the most obvious counter-example to the idea of any sort of high priestly infallibility: how could the high priest Caiaphas have been infallible in any context, given how he treated Jesus? But that’s not how the Evangelists saw it. A few chapters earlier, when the Sanhedrin were debating whether or not to arrest Jesus in the first place, St. John presents the pivotal moment in this way (John 11:49-52): 

One of them, Caiaphas, who was high priest that year, said to them, “You know nothing at all; you do not understand that it is expedient for you that one man should die for the people, and that the whole nation should not perish.” He did not say this of his own accord, but being high priest that year he prophesied that Jesus should die for the nation, and not for the nation only, but to gather into one the children of God who are scattered abroad. 

The Holy Spirit was working through the high priest, enabling him to speak prophetically, perhaps even in spite of himself, because he was “high priest that year.” What’s fascinating is that at one and the same moment, you see the evil of the man and the orthodoxy of what he’s teaching. It was evil of Caiaphas to want Jesus dead. But it was true (and, John tells us, prophetic!) for him to say Jesus should die for Israel and the whole people of God.  

If Jesus means his words to Peter in the way a Jewish listener would understand them, then he seems to be giving him something like infallibility, by promising that the Holy Spirit will work through Peter to ensure that he doesn’t teach anything contrary to divine law and that his earthly decisions will be ratified in heaven. To readers who are approaching this from a Protestant background, this might all seem shocking. Keith Mathison speaks for many a Protestant when he warns that “if the church is infallible, appeals to history, tradition, and Scripture are superfluous.” After all, didn’t the Jewish leaders nullify the word of God by imposing their manmade tradition (Mark 7:13)? It’s a reasonable objection, but it begs the question. The whole point of infallibility is that the pope won’t (and can’t!) contradict God, so a question that begins by asking what happens when he does is a bit like “disproving” the inerrancy of Scripture by asking, “But what do you do when Scripture is wrong?” In fact, far from rendering Scripture superfluous, infallibility is the only way of living out full obedience to what Christ commands in Scripture. That’s a big claim, but I think that it can be proven through four relatively uncontroversial points. 

This excerpt is only part of the biblical and historical case for the papacy. To keep reading, purchase your own copy of Pope Peter today!

In Romans 3:23, St. Paul famously declared, “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” 1 John 1:8 says, “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us,” and Romans 3:10 adds, “None is righteous, no not one.”

In light of these Scripture verses, our Protestant friends will say, Mary couldn’t have been sinless as Catholics believe she was. She must have been a sinner like every other human being, and needed redemption.

How should Catholics respond to these prooftexts?

When I’m asked about Romans 3:23, I like to respond with the same series of questions that a young Catholic Marine named Sgt. Matt Dula asked me nearly thirty years ago, when I was serving in the United States Marine Corps and just starting on my road to Rome. The conversation went something like this:

Matt: “Do you mean to tell me that you believe Jesus Christ was a sinner? I’ve never heard of a Christian believing that before.”

Tim: “Of course not!”

Matt: “Well, if you believe literally that ‘if any man says he has no sin, he is a liar’ . . . I have to ask you: was Jesus Christ fully man?”

Tim: “Well, yes, but he was also God.”

Matt: “Yes, and Mary is the Mother of God, but that is not the question. Was Jesus fully man? If he was, and we are going to take 1 John 1:8 in a strict, literal sense, then Jesus was a sinner.”

Tim: “Okay, I see your point, but Jesus was an exception to Romans 3:10, 3:23, and 1 John 1:8. The Bible tells us so in Hebrews 4:15, which clearly says Christ was ‘tempted as we are, yet without sinning.’”

Matt: “Oh, so you admit there are exceptions, do you? What if I were to show you that there are millions of exceptions to these verses?”

Matt then explained to me what I have explained to thousands since. First of all, we need to know that all three of those prooftexts are dealing with personal sin, not original sin. (Romans 5:12 deals with original sin, and we can demonstrate exceptions there as well.) 1 John 1:8 clearly refers to personal sin because in the very next verse John tells us, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins.” We don’t confess original sin because we didn’t do it! Confession is only for personal sins.

The context of Romans 3:23, that it refers to personal sin, can be seen a few verses prior:

None is righteous, no, not one; no one understands, no one seeks for God. All have turned aside, together they have gone wrong; no one does good, not even one. Their throat is an open grave. They use their tongues to deceive. The venom of asps is under their lips. Their mouth is full of curses and bitterness (Rom. 3:10–14).

Original sin is not something we do; it is something we’ve inherited. As a result of the sin of Adam, we possess a fallen nature. That is the essence of original sin.

After explaining all of this, Matt asked, “Has a baby in the womb, or a child of two, ever committed a personal sin?”

“No, they have not,” I had to concede.

“Or how about the severely mentally challenged who do not have the use of their intellects and wills; have they committed personal sins?”

Once again, I had to agree the answer was no. In order to commit a sin, a person must have knowledge of the sinful act and full use of his will in performing that objectively sinful act.

“There!” declared Matt. “Millions of exceptions to Romans 3:23 and 1 John 1:8!”

My response at this point was similar to the response I often get today: “Well, that may be, but you can’t show me why Mary is another exception.” I didn’t realize it at the time (it would hit me later like a ton of bricks), but in so saying, my three “go-to” texts against Mary Immaculate went up in smoke!

THE PROTESTANT CHALLENGE: How can the Catholic Church teach that some Christians have more authority than others when Scripture says that we’re all one in Christ? 

The Catechism teaches that in the Church there are “hierarchy and laity” (873), and that the Lord wills such differences between the members of his body. Paragraphs 874 and 877 speak of the Church as having a “variety of offices” and being constituted with a “sacred hierarchy.”  

But for some Protestants,xx this teaching on hierarchy contradicts what Paul writes in Galatians 3:28: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” To Paul, we’re all equal, which disproves the Catholic belief that the Church is constituted with a hierarchy.  

MEETING THE CHALLENGE  

1. Paulcan’t be denying the hierarchical nature of the Church, because there is evidence that both Jesus and Paul understood the Church to be hierarchical.  

We can start with Jesus. That Jesus selects twelve men to be his “apostles” apart from all other believers reveals his intention to establish his Church with a hierarchy (Matt. 10:1-4). In Luke 22:29-30, we discover that he makes these apostles rulers in his kingdom. Jesus promises to assign his kingdom to the apostles (as the Father assigned it to him) and give them the authority to “sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel” (v.30).  

A possible background for the imagery of sitting on thrones to judge is Psalm 122:5, which speaks of the “thrones for judgment…of the house of David.” Such thrones were seats for the royal ministers of the Davidic kingdom that governed Israel. With this background in mind, it’s possible that when Jesus speaks of his apostles sitting on thrones to judge in his kingdom he intends his apostles to be for the new Davidic kingdom, the Church, what the royal ministers were for the old Davidic kingdom: rulers who govern. And if they are rulers who govern, they constitute a hierarchy in Jesus’ Church. 

Jesus’ intention for his Church to be hierarchical is further supported by his appointment of Peter as head of the twelve. Consider what Jesus tells Peter in Matthew 16:18-19:  

And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the powers of death shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven. 

There are three clues that suggest Peter’s superior rank of authority. First, Peter is the foundational “rock” of the Church. As we noted previously, the name Peter (Greek, petros) means “rock,” as John the evangelist confirms in John 1:42. If Peter is the visible foundation of Jesus’ Church on earth, that makes him the visible source of unity. Wherever the foundation is, there is the true Church of Jesus.  

Second, Peter is given the “keys of the kingdom.” In the Jewish tradition, this imagery signifies an institutional office in the Davidic kingdom known as the royal steward or master of the palace. This official had royal authority second to no one except the king himself (Isa. 22:15-22). Therefore, Jesus’ handing over the keys to Peter signifies Peter as the royal steward, second in authority only to King Jesus. 

The third clue is Jesus’ exclusive instruction for Peter to “bind and loose.” We know from Matthew 18:18 that the Church as a whole has authority to bind and loose as well. But notice here that Jesus singles out Peter. This suggests that Peter has a unique authority to bind and loose, an authority that he can exercise on his own, which ranks him above the collegial authority of the Church.  

This higher rank that Peter has among the twelve explains why Matthew lists Peter as “first” in Matthew 10:2. The Greek word used here, protos, can be used either to connote a chronological order or to suggest a primacy of place, like “first and foremost,” or “most prominent.”xxi 

It doesn’t seem that Matthew is using protos in a chronological sense. He can’t be using it to refer to the chronological order of the apostles’ calling because Andrew was called first, not Peter (John 1:42). Nor can he be using it to refer to an order in a list, since he doesn’t speak of a “second,” “third,” etc. Therefore, Matthew must intend protos to refer to Peter having a primacy of place among the twelve, the “first and foremost,” or “most prominent” apostle. That’s hierarchy!  

Now we can turn to Paul himself for evidence of the hierarchical nature of the Church. In Acts 14:23 we read that Paul appointed “elders” (Greek, presbuteroi; “presbyters” or “priests”) in every church throughout their apostolic journeys. In Acts 20, he convenes the presbyters of the church in Ephesus and confirms them in their leadership role: “Take heed to yourselves and to all the flock, in which the Holy Spirit has made you guardians, to feed the church of the Lord” (v.28).  

The office of the bishop is another hierarchical office that Paul gives instructions about—for example, in 1 Timothy 3:1-3, calling the office of the bishop a “noble task.” The Greek word that Paul uses for “office of bishop” is episkopē, which is the same word used to describe the apostolic office in Acts 1:20. This suggests that the bishops (episkopoi; “overseers”) of the early Church, like the apostles, were to exercise oversight in the Church, which proves its hierarchical nature.  

The other role that constituted part of the hierarchy in the early Church was that of the deacon. In 1 Timothy 3:8-13, Paul gives Timothy instructions about this office as well, immediately after he gives instructions concerning the office of the bishop.  

For Paul, the ministers that occupy these various offices were to be given special honor. He writes to Timothy concerning the presbyters: “Let the elders who rule well be considered worthy of double honor, especially those who labor in preaching and teaching” (1 Tim. 5:17). Paul gives the same instruction to the Christians in Thessalonica, telling them to “esteem them [those who labor over us in the Lord&91; very highly in love” (1 Thess. 5:13).  

We can also include the book of Hebrews, although we don’t know if Paul wrote it. For example, it says in 13:17, “Obey your leaders and submit to them; for they are keeping watch over your souls.” Just a few verses earlier, in verse 7, the author writes, “Remember your leaders, those who spoke to you the word of God; consider the outcome of their life, and imitate their faith.”  

That bishops, presbyters, and deacons exercised oversight and governing authority in the early Church, and that such ministers were to be given honor and obedience, allows us to conclude that not every member of the Christian community had equal roles, but rather that there was a hierarchy of authority.  

2. Membership in the hierarchy for the earlyChurch was objectively verifiable through the rite of ordination by the laying on of hands and their commission to appoint others to the hierarchy and teach with authority.xxii  

Just as Moses laid hands on Joshua as a visible sign of the conferring of authority (Num. 27:22-23; cf. Deut. 34:9), so to the apostles laid hands on men as a sign of conferring apostolic authority.  

For example, Paul speaks of how he laid hands on Timothy: “Hence I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of my hands” (2 Timothy 1:6). This suggests an ordination to a specific ministerial office in the hierarchy.  

Timothy’s position in the hierarchy is further supported by the fact that Paul tasks him with appointing other men to hierarchical roles in the Church: “Do not be hasty in the laying on of hands” (1 Tim. 5:22).  

This follows upon Paul’s instructions to Timothy about how we should consider “elders” as “worthy of double honor” (1 Tim. 5:17), and how Timothy is to discern which men are worthy to be “bishops” (1 Tim. 3:1-7) and “deacons” (1 Tim. 8-13). That Timothy is to oversee these ministries suggests that he belongs to the hierarchy of the early Church.  

Timothy is also given the authoritative task to “command and teach” (1 Tim. 4:11), along with rebuking those who come along and teach things contrary to sound teaching (2 Tim. 4:1-5).  

Titus is given similar instructions to Timothy’s. For example, in Titus 1:5, Paul instructs him to “appoint elders in every town.” A few verses later, Paul gives Titus authority to “rebuke sharply” (v.13) and “silence” (v.11) those “insubordinate men, empty talkers and deceivers” of the “circumcision party” (v.10). That Titus has authority to appoint elders and authoritatively rebuke those who teach contrary to sound doctrine reveals that he too belongs to the hierarchy in the early Church.  

3. Equality in dignity and diversity in roles among members of the Body of Christarenot mutually exclusive.  

Paul indeed teaches that we are all one in Christ, yet this doesn’t mean that everyone has the same role to play. There is a difference between equality in dignity and equality in roles. The Bible affirms the former, but denies the latter.  

The above passages prove as much. But there are more. Consider, for example, Paul’s list of ministries in the Church: 

And God has appointed in the church first apostles, second prophets, third teachers, then workers of miracles, then healers, helpers, administrators, speakers in various kinds of tongues. Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? Do all work miracles? Do all possess gifts of healing? Do all speak with tongues? Do all interpret? But earnestly desire the higher gifts (1 Cor. 12:28-31). 

Notice that Paul lists the ministries in a ranking order, thus revealing that he believes the Church is hierarchical.  

Similarly, Paul writes in Ephesians 4:11, “And his gifts were that some should be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers.” For Paul, the very purpose of these distinct ministries is to  

equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ (Eph. 4:12-13).  

These passages show that not everybody in the Church has the same function, and that the different functions in the Church are ranked according to their importance. Thus, Scripture teaches that the early Church was hierarchical.  

COUNTER-CHALLENGE: Why must unity and diversity of roles in the Church be mutually exclusive? Can’t they exist together?  

AFTERTHOUGHT: The threefold hierarchical nature of the Church—bishops, priests, and deacons—is confirmed in early post-apostolic writings as early as A.D. 107 or 110. The early Church Father Ignatius of Antioch writes, “In like manner, let all reverence the deacons as an appointment of Jesus Christ, and the bishop as Jesus Christ, who is the Son of the Father, and the presbyters as the Sanhedrin of God, and assembly of the apostles. Apart from these, there is no Church.”xxiii 

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Catholics often take for granted the claim that doctrine can develop over time. However, a Catholic inquirer into Orthodoxy will most likely be surprised to find out this is not the case within some quarters of Orthodoxy. For instance, Orthodox priest Fr. Daniel Lattier surveys Orthodox writers on the question and discovers some who claim that “there exists an Orthodox consensus against doctrinal development.” Fr. Lattier does not necessarily agree with this, but he points out that it is a claim made by some prominent Orthodox.  

Part of the problem in this discussion is defining what Catholics mean by development of doctrine. Certainly, some Orthodox have misunderstood what Catholics mean by this, as Fr. Lattier says: 

Some of the Orthodox rejections of DD [development of doctrine&91; are attributable to misunderstandings about what DD means, which is probably further attributable to a lack of engagement with primary sources on DD. 

There is often an ignorance among the Orthodox about the development of doctrine because they are not familiar with the key documents from Catholics on the concept. Another problem is a failure on the part of some Orthodox to see its roots in the Patristic era. Additionally, for those Orthodox who deny such development, it is hard to claim there have been no doctrinal developments in Eastern Orthodoxy in the last 2,000 years. Let’s examine each of these problems briefly.  

What do Catholics mean by development of doctrine? Some Orthodox think it means that Catholics add to the deposit of faith—i.e., God’s divine revelation handed down to us through his Son and the apostles. In reality, this is not what Catholics mean by development of doctrine. Consider this definition from a Catholic encyclopedia: 

Nothing has been added to or subtracted from the deposit of faith since the death of the last apostle. However, the mysteries revealed by Christ to his apostles are clearer now than they were in the first centuries, through the penetration of these truths by the early Fathers and Doctors of the Church. 

This means that Catholics do not add to divine revelation handed down by Christ and the apostles, but further penetrate its mysteries and implications, especially when new questions arise. For instance, Jesus and the apostles never taught that the use of artificial contraception in a marriage is immoral. Yet that does not mean that the use of contraception would be permitted according to the standard of divine revelation, since it can be argued that the use of contraception would violate certain biblical moral principles. Likewise, it is highly unlikely that the apostle Paul bowed down and kissed icons of the Blessed Virgin Mary. However, it would be wrong to say that the theology that allows for one to venerate icons is foreign to Paul. It is in this sense that one can agree with the seventh ecumenical council (787), which appeals to the apostles for its dogmatic definition on the veneration of icons.  

One thing to stress here is that the deposit of faith never changes. There can never be a development that would substantially break with the Faith handed down by the apostles. If such a thing were to happen, then it would no longer be development we are referring to, but corruption or evolution. Thus, the deposit of faith must always remain substantially the same in every age, but certain implications of the Faith may emerge at a later time. 

Are there Patristic roots for this concept? In fact, there are! St. Vincent of Lérins (d. 445) said the following in the fifth century: 

But some one will say, perhaps, Shall there, then, be no progress in Christ’s Church? Certainly; all possible progress. For what being is there, so envious of men, so full of hatred to God, who would seek to forbid it? Yet on condition that it be real progress, not alteration of the Faith. For progress requires that the subject be enlarged in itself, alteration that it be transformed into something else.

Note two elements here. One is progress or development. This refers to some kind of change. Yet this concept is mitigated by the claim that there are to be no alterations to the Faith.  

Think of a small human child growing into an adult. It is true that there are some developments and progress to the child’s growth. However, one cannot say such changes constitute alterations to the person’s substance, since this would mean the human child no longer remains human, but becomes something else, like a tree. Clearly, it is impossible to have a human child change into a tree and to simultaneously claim there have been no substantial changes to the child.

To better understand this issue and how Catholics can respond to common Orthodox objections, get your copy of Answering Orthodoxy by Michael Lofton today!

Spiritual or Religious? 

Challenge: I consider myself spiritual rather than religious. Why isn’t that enough? 

Defense: Because God loves you and wants even better things for you. 

When people say they are spiritual rather than religious, they frequently mean that, although they don’t practice a specific religion, they recognize there is more to the world than matter, that it has a spiritual dimension. This is good! But it doesn’t go very far. Wouldn’t it be nice to know more about the world’s spiritual dimension? In every field, having more knowledge is better, and it makes sense to ask if we can learn more about the world’s spiritual dimension. 

From a Christian perspective, we can learn more. God loves us and wants us to know him—not just have feelings or guesses. When he created the universe, God left evidence allowing us to learn certain things about him: “Ever since the creation of the world his invisible nature, namely, his eternal power and deity, has been clearly perceived in the things that have been made” (Rom. 1:20). 

He also left evidence in the human heart: “With [man’s&91; openness to truth and beauty, his sense of moral goodness, his freedom and the voice of his conscience, with his longings for the infinite and for happiness, man questions himself about God's existence. In all this he discerns signs of his spiritual soul. The soul, the seed of eternity we bear in ourselves, irreducible to the merely material, can have its origin only in God” (CCC 33). 

Further, God has entered history, communicating with us through his prophets and, most importantly, through his Son, Jesus. 

Apologetics examines and presents the evidence showing God has communicated with us, and its ultimate purpose is to help us discover God and the joy and happiness he wants us to have. “The desire for God is written in the human heart, because man is created by God and for God; and God never ceases to draw man to himself. Only in God will he find the truth and happiness he never stops searching for” (CCC 27). 

Or, as St. Augustine put it: “You have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you” (Confessions 1:1:1). 

Tip: A good book on the evidence for faith is the Handbook of Catholic Apologetics by Peter Kreeft and Ronald Tacelli. 

Want to go deeper? A Daily Defense by Jimmy Akin offers 365 concise, practical defenses of the Catholic faith to help you answer common objections with confidence. Get your copy today!

The two main characteristics of charity are to do good for one’s beloved and to live in union with him or her. Using images drawn from friendship as well as marriage, Jesus tries to tell us how closely united with us he longs to be. It was to the end of this unity that he became eternally united to us by taking a human nature. The goal of this section is to pray and reflect through the meaning of the Incarnation and the presence of the Holy Spirit—in our lives and in our work defending the truth about the Lord’s humanity and earthly mission. 

*** 

Do we worship a God of power or a God of love? Do we understand love’s need to come to us in humility and not in might?  

God loves us more than we love ourselves. We are not a distraction or a burden to God; he longs to be with us. We are loved, redeemed, one in whom God himself rejoices. 

The Lord, your God, is in your midst, a mighty Savior, who will rejoice over you with gladness, and renew you in his love, who will sing joyfully because of you.  

-Zephaniah 3:17 

To prove this, he has become just like us. For us—for you—a divine person has chosen to live a life of a hungry, tired, mortal working man. To seal this union, the Father also sends his Holy Spirit to live in us: to be the loving principle of our life just as he is in the life of the Holy Trinity.   

We take seriously—and we proclaim and defend as good—the created order as God’s first gift to his people. Beyond that and even more importantly, God has elevated and ennobled the created order by uniting it to his divine nature in the Incarnation. Every embodied being, all of time and space, and everything that fills this cosmos were never the same after.  

This means, practically, that all things now have the potential of bringing us closer to Jesus Christ. That is why, for most people and probably for you, holiness will be realized nowhere other than where you are right now—probably not in the monastery, most likely not in extreme acts of asceticism, but in the very life God has set out for you in this moment. 

God, the great lover, desires not only good for us but intimate union with us. Why? Perhaps because intimacy leads to identity. We tend to become like the people we are around the most. And that is why, as wonderful as the technology that makes seeing and talking and texting to our close companions is, there is no substitute for being with them in person, in the flesh.  

To recover the spiritual heart of defending the Faith, purchase your copy of The Soul of Apologetics by Catholic Answers today.

The Philosophical Case

The philosopher Stephen Schwartz says there are only four differences between born and unborn humans, and none of them justifies depriving unborn humans of their basic rights, especially the right to life. Obviously, you and I have more rights than a fetus or an infant, such as the right to vote, but we all have the same basic right not to be tortured, enslaved, or unjustly killed. Schwartz uses the acronym SLED to summarize these differences between born and unborn humans and then shows that these differences do not justify saying born humans are persons, but unborn humans are not. They are 

• Size 

• Level of development 

• Environment 

• Degree of dependency 

Just as we would ask a racist why skin color makes someone less valuable, we should ask pro-choicers why SLED differences make someone less valuable—or not a someone at all. The SLED critique follows this basic pattern: 

• Affirm that the difference illustrated in the SLED acronym exists. 

• Ask the critic what a person is or why this difference is what makes someone a person. 

• Show that this difference has nothing to do with being a person, because some born people also differ in one or more of these ways. 

Size 

Katha Pollitt dismisses the value of the unborn because they are, according to her, “pea-sized,” “lentil-sized,” and “shrimplike.” Nathan Robinson says, “It is not hard to recognize that a cell barely visible to the naked eye is morally distinct from a live child.”  

Obviously, there is a difference in size between newborns and embryos. They are distinct from one another. But is it a moral distinction? To answer that question, we must ask why the embryo’s size changes his moral worth. I know the difference between an adult woman and a premature infant who is smaller than a football, but I also know that both are equally human even if they are unequal in size. That’s because size is irrelevant to the issue of human value. 

Sometimes, when issues related to “size” come up, the pro-choicer is really talking about appearance. He might say an early embryo simply doesn’t “look human.” But the idea that humans must look a certain way in order to be considered persons is a bigoted idea. 

For example, in the early twentieth century, small African pygmies were put on display in human zoos. This was considered acceptable because pygmies did not “look human,” or they did not have white skin and European facial features. Of course, African pygmies looked just like how humans are supposed to look who live in a certain geographical region of the world. Likewise, a one-celled zygote looks just like how a human is supposed to look who lives in the womb at that stage of development. 

Another reason human appearance is a bad criterion for personhood is that robots and mannequins can be designed to look human even though they are not human. Also, aliens and angels may not resemble human beings, but they would still be persons. This all shows that our size and our appearance are not relevant to what makes something a person. 

Level of development 

Atheist Richard Dawkins says abortionists are obviously persons, whereas the unborn are not, because “an early embryo has the sentience, as well as the semblance, of a tadpole. A doctor is a grown-up, conscious being with hopes, loves, [and&91; aspirations.” However, arguments like Dawkins’s that disqualify unborn children based on their level of development have at least one of these three flaws: 

1. They set the level of development too low so that non-human animals are persons. 

If merely being able to feel pain made something a person, then many non-human animals would be persons. This includes pests we regularly kill like rats, and so fumigating dozens of them would be an act of mass murder. But since rats and similar creatures aren’t persons, it follows that feeling pain is not what makes something a person. 

1. They set the level of development too high so that infants are not persons. 

Some pro-choicers say a person is anyone who can not only feel pain, but also exhibit rationality, or thinking beyond the level of non-human animals. And it’s true that unborn children can’t do that, but neither can newborn infants. But since nearly everyone believes that newborn infants are persons, this shows that having the immediate ability to think rationally is not what makes something a person. 

1. They make the level of development arbitrary in order to exclude the unborn. 

If a pro-choicer says a person is any human being that can feel pain, then ask him why feeling pain matters, since non-human animals that feel pain (like rats) aren’t persons. Since pain didn’t matter when rats were involved, it’s clear this definition was created simply to disqualify the unborn. Also, saying a person is any “human living outside the womb” is as prejudiced as saying a person is any “human who is white” or any “human who is male.” Why not just say all humans are persons? 

However, when we critique pro-choice definitions of personhood, we need to use noncontroversial examples. If a pro-choicer says a person is anyone who can feel pain or think, it’s not wise to ask in response, “But what about permanently comatose human beings who will never think or feel again? Are they persons?” The pro-choicer might simply reply, “No, the irreversibly comatose are not persons.”

That’s why in nearly all my examples, I use newborn infants: because (1) they are close in age and level of development to fetuses and (2) almost everyone agrees that it is wrong to kill newborn infants. As a result, if we can show that human embryos and fetuses do not differ in any relevant way from human infants, then we can direct people’s natural moral outrage against infanticide toward abortion as well. 

Environment 

Pro-choicers sometimes say the unborn aren’t “in the world yet” (i.e., they aren’t born), and so it’s not wrong to abort them. But why does a person have to be alive in a certain environment in order to be a person?  

Keep in mind that women are not merely environments, locations, or vessels that carry an unborn child. Instead, a woman’s body represents intimate space that is shared with another human being. If, when we’re outside the womb, moving from one place to another does not take away our personhood, then how could moving from inside to outside the womb cause someone to become a person?  

Even pro-choice philosophers like Peter Singer recognize the absurdity of basing a being’s value on its location. He writes, “Pro-life groups are right about one thing: the location of the baby inside or outside the womb cannot make such a crucial moral difference. We cannot coherently hold that it is all right to kill a fetus a week before birth, but as soon as the baby is born everything must be done to keep it alive.”  

You can also point out that birth isn’t special to humans and that if the process of birth doesn’t turn a dog or a cat into a person, why would it turn a human into a person? If your pro-choice friend says birth just is what makes a human a person, ask him why that same argument couldn’t also be used to claim that another irrelevant trait, like having a Y-chromosome, just is what makes a human a person.  

Some pro-choicers say birth makes people because we celebrate birthdays, not conception days, and it is only after birth when a child becomes a citizen and is issued official state documentation, such as a Social Security number.  

But aside from the fact that it can take several weeks to get a Social Security card (thus allowing for infanticide), there are millions of immigrants in America who do not have things like Social Security cards, yet they are still persons. And we celebrate birthdays because no one knows exactly when he was conceived. Birthdays celebrate when we met our parents, when other people could see us outside the womb, and when our relationship with our mother changed, not when we began to exist. Although, I know some pro-life advocates who celebrate their approximate conception day. Catholics alsocelebrate the day Jesus was conceived (the Annunciation) and the day Mary was conceived (the Immaculate Conception). 

Ben Bayer argues for abortion until the moment before birth because “it’s the point at which a child first exists: a new being, physically independent of the mother. A child is no longer a necessary physical burden on or potential threat to the mother’s life. Only then can she have no right to destroy it, and its right to live begins.”

First, birth is a process, so is Bayer saying that unless a child is completely born, he is not a person? Could the child’s head be kept in the birth canal so that the abortionist can kill the child by jamming a pair of scissors into his brain? (For more on this horrifying abortion procedure, see chapter 13.) Bayer’s argument also fails because a breastfeeding infant is also physically dependent on his mother (or someone else), but that doesn’t mean he is not a person. His claims that at birth a “new being” exists are simply assumptions without evidence (and incorrect ones at that). 

Finally, Bayer’s argument leads to a conclusion about human embryos he would probably reject. He writes, “Neither a fetus nor an embryo is an individual in any relevant sense. Neither is physically or physiologically individuated from the pregnant woman.” Bayer claims that this individuation happens not at viability (or when a fetus can survive outside the womb), but at birth because the child is no longer inside the woman’s body. But by that logic, a human embryo produced through IVF would be a person since it is “physically or physiologically individuated from the pregnant woman,” and so it would be murder to intentionally destroy it. 

However, Bayer might say the IVF embryo is not a person because a person is something that can “act independently.” He says, “The fetus doesn’t need protection for its ability to act independently—it has no such ability.” But neither do newborn infants, and if they are persons in spite of their helplessness, then so are unborn children—including those who exist the moment before being born. 

Ultimately, birth does not change our personhood, since birth involves a change only of location, and where you are does not determine what you are. 

Degree of dependency 

A pro-choicer could respond to the last argument by saying that at birth, what changes isn’t the unborn child’s location, but the fact that he no longer needs the woman’s body in order to survive. However, a fetus can survive outside a woman’s body several months before the traditional time of birth. The earliest time a newborn can survive outside the womb is called viability, and it is usually dated in the United States at around twenty-four weeks after conception.  

Even pro-choicers have noted how arbitrary it is to set personhood at a point like viability, which constantly changes because of developments in technology. If viability determined personhood, then some poor humans would not be persons simply because they lived in a place where it is more difficult to deliver premature babies. Underdeveloped technology might not be able to help a person, but that fact alone shouldn’t determine if someone is a person. That’s why Dobbs said, “The arbitrary viability line, which Casey termed Roe’s central rule, has not found much support among philosophers and ethicists who have attempted to justify a right to abortion.” 

That’s why when people propose viability as the time fetuses become persons, we should ask: why does a child’s ability to survive outside the womb make him a person?  

Rats can survive outside a uterus, but they aren’t persons. Newborns cannot live on their own outside the womb; they would be dead in a few hours or days if left on a hospital table. If the pro-choicer says that a person is someone who can survive outside the womb even with assistance, then once again, he is just asserting that the unborn are not persons. Why does “assistance” after birth have nothing to do with personhood, but “assistance” before birth proves you’re not a person? 

Or suppose aliens abducted earthlings and put them on Mars, where they would immediately suffocate. What if the Martians defended their actions by saying that humans are not “viable,” and so they are not persons? Of course, this would only prove that humans aren’t “viable” in a certain environment, not that they aren’t persons at all.  

Defining personhood through viability involves an invalid, circular argument: 

Premise 1: A person is any human being who can survive outside the womb. 

Premise 2: A fetus cannot survive outside the womb. 

Conclusion: Therefore, a fetus is not a person. 

But “who can survive outside the womb” is the same as “not a fetus,” so the argument basically says, 

Premise 1: A person is any human being who is not a fetus. 

Premise 2: A fetus is a fetus. 

Conclusion: Therefore, a fetus is not a person. 

This argument merely assumes that the unborn aren’t persons. It hasn’t given any reason to think viability is an essential part of what it means to be a person.  

In fact, the idea that the unborn are not persons because they are dependent contradicts our moral intuitions. For example, acts of violence against innocent adults are wrong, but nearly everyone thinks those same crimes are even worse when committed against infants. This intuition comes from the fact that infants are so dependent on others and cannot protect themselves. But if it is worse to harm an infant because he is so helpless, then wouldn’t it be worse to kill a human being who is even more helpless than an infant, such as a fetus or an embryo? That’s why degree of dependency is irrelevant to what makes human beings valuable. 

Mere emotional assent to holiness will not suffice, even though that can be a part of it. Intellectual assent, although pivotal, by itself won’t suffice either. It is imperative that we rediscover personally this profound truth of the Holy Spirit’s outpouring and seek it daily. We should commit ourselves anew to: 

• daily invocation of the Holy Spirit, particularly in moments of decision-making, temptation, or dryness; 

• regular and devout sacramental participation, especially frequent confession and reception of the Eucharist, to renew and deepen our communion with the Spirit; 

• engagement with Scripture and spiritual writings, allowing the Spirit to illuminate our minds and inflame our hearts; and 

• spiritual direction and communal prayer, fostering accountability and deepening our capacity to discern the Spirit’s movements in our lives. 

May we never tire of praying, “Come, Holy Spirit,” confident in his response, eager for his guidance, and inflamed by his presence to love of Christ and commitment to a life of holiness and evangelization. For indeed, when we yield fully to his divine influence, we will experience the words of Jesus anew: “Out of his heart shall flow rivers of living water” (John 7:38). If we commit ourselves to the pursuit of the person of the Holy Spirit, we will become vessels aflame with his presence, renewing ourselves, immersing ourselves in the fullness of revealed truth, transforming our families, our communities, and our world, to the glory of the Father, through Christ our Lord.

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During my conversion in high school, I repented of my sins and received Jesus Christ into my life. Today, I live out my faith in the knowledge that, if I remain united to Christ until death, I will enter into heavenly glory with him. 

That’s all of it: repent, receive, and remain.  

You don’t have to pray the rosary to be saved. You don’t have to perform a certain number of “good deeds” to be saved. And you don’t have to receive all seven sacraments to be saved. (Very few Catholics have ever done that, anyway.) Just repent, receive, and remain. 

One reason Protestants and Catholics often talk past each other on the issue of salvation is that many Protestants view salvation as a single moment in our lives—the instant they “got saved.” Catholics agree that there is a single moment in our lives when we go from being a condemned sinner to being a saved child of God. That’s why I referred in the past tense to having repented and then received Jesus Christ when I was in high school.  

But Catholics also recognize that salvation is a process. It doesn’t consist only of the moment we go from being damned to being “saved.” It has a “first moment” and a “last moment.” Our process of salvation continues throughout our lives, as we choose to remain united to Christ until we die and then go to be with him. That’s why Paul speaks of “the gospel, which you received, in which you stand, by which you are saved, if you hold it fast—unless you believed in vain” (1 Cor. 15:1-2). 

Catholics believe in the gospel. We believe we are saved by the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, and that this is good news! Catholics and Protestants agree that Jesus’ victory over death is good news that we accept through faith; we just disagree on how God wants us to respond to that good news. 

One of those big differences is on what you must believe to be saved. Whereas Protestants say Catholics overcomplicate salvation, many Protestants, especially “non-denominational” Christians, dangerously understate what we must believe to be saved. And this is where we see the first reason salvation comes from the Catholic Church: the Church reveals what we must believe to be saved.

In Salvation Is From the Catholic Church, Trent Horn answers common objections and explains why the Church is essential to God's plan of salvation. Get your copy today!

St. Paul was martyred in the mid-A.D. 60s, and he wrote his letters in the 50s and 60s, making them very early sources about Jesus—much earlier, Mythicists say, than the Gospels. 

Mythicists frequently state that if Jesus were a real, historical figure, St. Paul would tell us about his life; but he only speaks about Jesus as a heavenly individual. He doesn’t tell us stories about his life, give sayings of Jesus, or relate biographical facts about his life on earth. Consequently, Paul understood Jesus to be a purely heavenly being.  

The first thing to say is that the claim about Paul’s epistles being earlier than the Gospels is overblown. We will argue in a future chapter that the Gospels also were written in the A.D. 50s and 60s, making them contemporary with the letters of Paul.  

More fundamentally, the Mythicist is making an argument from silence—that, since Paul is silent about Jesus’ earthly life, Jesus must not have had an earthly life. But arguments from silence are weak. Just because someone is silent about something doesn’t mean that he doesn’t know about or believe it. When someone is writing a book, or a shorter work like a letter, he inevitably knows much more than he will say in that text.  

Some years ago, I wrote a book called The Drama of Salvation, which was, unsurprisingly, about the Bible’s teaching on salvation. In it, I didn’t mention the atomic theory of matter, but that didn’t mean that I don’t know about or believe in atoms. I simply didn’t write about them because that wasn’t my purpose in the book. The only thing you could reasonably infer from my silence on atoms is that I didn’t think mentioning them would serve my purpose, not that I didn’t know about or believe in their existence.  

This illustrates how arguments from silence only have value if it can be shown that a person would have had a special reason to mention a subject but still didn’t. Without that, an argument from silence is worthless, because without a special reason to mention a subject, an author likely won’t bring it up.  

Paul did not have a special reason to go into detail about Jesus’ earthly life, because he was not writing a Gospel. He was writing letters to deal with situations in churches he was in contact with, to people who were already Christians and already knew the story of Jesus. There was no need for him to repeat that story in his letters.  

Rather than looking to the past, in his letters Paul primarily looks to the present and future. He deals with present problems in the churches and how people can live in expectation of the future coming of Jesus.  

Where is Jesus at the time Paul is writing? In heaven. That’s why Paul spends most of his time discussing Jesus as a heavenly figure. It’s natural he would focus on the heavenly Jesus, because that’s where Jesus was. Paul isn’t writing a Gospel to tell us about Jesus’ earthly life, which belonged to the past. Paul is trying to help people relate correctly to Jesus today, and so it’s no surprise that he doesn’t give a lot of biographical details about him. This argument from silence thus doesn’t work.

Evidence for Christ equips you to evaluate the historical case for Jesus with clarity, confidence, and reason. Order your copy today!