Ode to an Oaf

This was my darling Robin's attempt at romance ( a la Ogden Nash). I miss you so much and your silliness and sweetness and just plain loveliness.


Ode to an Oaf

Some may say they are quite loathful
Of an oaf so very oafful
at closing bread bags awful
so bread stales by the loafful.

Others have fear of a gorilla
who unless he’s feeling chilla
their little babies just might killa
if he has the willa.

And a nerd who is so nerdy
does not often get the girlies.
Even if his teeth are pearly
they just won’t give him a whirly.

Love prospects seem so bleaky
for someone that is so geeky
he thinks Heidegger is cheeky
and reads books in ancient Greeky.

But his thoughts - so very thoughtful,
and his loving is a lotful,
and his sincerity not artful,
and his heart, it is so heartful.

And his taste, so Mind and Morky,
and his reading is so quirky
like Wiki articles on the House of Yorky.
How can I resist a man so dorky?

So I love my dearest oddball,
and it is my heart he enthralls.
Meeting him was such a windfall.
It seems I’m in it for the long haul!

The Present Moment

St. Paul in his letter to the Philippians writes, “..work out your salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure" Take what is given you, the time, the place, the present moment, accept it as a fount of Grace, and a let God use it for your own salvation. Salvation is freedom. It isn't freedom in a political sense. It isn't as your elementary school teachers said. It hasn't anything at all to do with the Pledge of Allegiance or the Declaration of Independence. It's really a freedom that lies somewhere deeper. It’s not a freedom from the world, from pain, from fear, and from suffering like the Buddhists teach although that's whole lot closer. All those are part of life and it’s pretty unrealistic to think that faith works like magic to eliminate all bad things from our lives. It isn't a question of attachment or detachment. When the Bible talks about freedom, and indeed salvation, what it’s talking about is the freedom to take everything as it comes. Whether it’s joyous or tragic, only faith can take those things and show them as they really are: points of contact with God. The ability of having that kind of faith is the mark of those who are “saved.” And they are truly saved. I trust, through Faith, that every breath, every action by man or by nature constitutes such a point of contact with the Divine. It doesn't matter if it’s a bad thing (things can be genuinely bad, I know.). All things ultimately can, through faith that they do, be founts of Grace and a great aid in penetrating the veil that separates us from the spiritual world where God remains hidden.


Simone Weil in one her letters to the French Catholic priest Fr. Perrin wrote:

God's mercy is manifest in affliction as in joy, by the same right, more perhaps, because under this form it has no human analogy. Man's mercy is only shown in giving joy, or maybe in inflicting pain with a view to outward results, bodily healing or education. But it is not the outward results of affliction that bear witness to divine mercy. The outward results of true affliction are nearly always bad. We lie when we try to disguise this. It is in affliction itself that the splendor of God's mercy shines, from its very depths, in the heart of its inconsolable bitterness. If in persevering in our love, we fall to the point where the soul cannot keep back the cry," My God, why hast thou forsaken me?" if we remain at this point without ceasing to love, we end by touching something that is not affliction, something not of the senses, common to joy and sorrow: the very love of God.

In my understanding of things, Weil seems to be right. Affliction, in-of -itself a bad thing, becomes through our faith in God’s will, a touch point, while definitely not being a pleasant one. We are not meant to understand all things at all times, we are often meant to stand before the awesome mystery of God, of the universe, and simply behold it. To be able to do that is salvation.


The field wherein this occurs is the present moment. Salvation isn’t something in the past and it isn’t something in the future. Working out one’s salvation is something done now. The Greek philosopher Zeno discovered an interesting paradox about time. When we look at an arrow shot across a field, we see only a moving arrow moving toward a target. But if we were to freeze time and examine it at any given moment of its flight, we would see the arrow suspended in mid-air. The present moment is like that for us. It’s easy to let our lives seem like a trajectory from point A to B but in reality, those points do not exist. The past is but memory and the future mere conjecture. This sort of thinking is probably cliché but like many clichés, it contains truth. It is in the present moment and the present moment only, that we truly live and can truly be open to God. It’s easy to get lost and fail to see that. We pour over our lives, our past, and our goals looking for meaning.
It has been nearly two months since my wife, Robin has died. I have been lost in the memory of the joy and Grace that characterized our life together and in the dark mire of my future without her. I stand between the two. I am where am now because of her, and will be where I shall be because of her also.

The future is no business of my own. Robin’s future, with all its expectations and possibilities, was in an instant no more. Her earthly life is over. As for me, it is for God alone to know where I am going. But where I have been is mine. Memory can be a burden, yes, but it is also can be a brilliant gift of God in the present moment. Memory is the outline of things that have framed our present moment, the field where we experience God and truly live.

My Monastery Stay

Last week, I spent three days at the Benedictine monastery of St. Mary's in Petersham, MA. I arrived just before Sext and settled in a little. Immediately after Sext, male retreatants eat with the monks. The monks eat in silence and stick to pretty strict vegetarian diet. That day's main course was a vegetable quiche. I spent much time in prayer. The monks pray the seven canonical hours. I prayed most of that with them. I also prayed the Rosary four times a day during those days, even experimenting with John Paul II's Luminous Mysteries. Mental or contemplative prayer is pretty difficult for me now with all the distractions of life. With the structure of prayer life already set into place, I was able have some meaningful prayer time, especially in front of the Blessed Sacrament in the monastery church. I was able to find some peace in the stillness of monastic life. The verse from Psalms, "Be still and know that I am God" was on my mind and my lips throughout the three days. I am beginning to accept that my loss of Robin is the will of God and nothing can alter it. Her death is part of a larger reality--one which we cannot begin to fathom.

One of the monks, Br. Jerome was asked to offer me some pointed spiritual direction. He mostly listened and offered counsel from solid rock of Scripture and the Church Fathers. It was much appreciated. No platitudes were offered. It was much different than that chaplain, who on the night of Robin's death, consoled me explaining reincarnation. Brother Jerome spoke with grace and simplicity, not pretending to know any answers. He recommended some reading. I began to read Jean-Pierre Caussade's Abandonment to Divine Providence. The basic thrust of which is that the present moment has a sort of sacramental nature and that we should abandon ourselves to the Grace which is contained in it. Even a horrible time like this contains Grace. The created order, through Christ, is made to help in the salvation of mankind. Robin's passing, as devastating as it is for me, contains Grace if only I have faith and trust in God's mercy. And I do have faith and I trust in the mercy and goodness of God. I loved Robin more than I have ever loved anyone in the world and her death has seemingly left my life empty but God will redeem this suffering and it will, in the end, be ordered to my salvation. I

My experience at St. Mary's is pretty similar Robin and my experience at S. Gregory's Abbey in Michigan. It was actually a nice corollary doing something that Robin and I did together. She would have really enjoyed the solid music program there. She was a such a musical person. The Gregorian Chant there was well sung and with the addition of the nuns from neighboring community, the effect was angelic. The acoustics in the church were really good. This is in sharp contrast to the music at Saint Gregory's, at which Robin let out a few chuckles. She was a funny person. She theorized that those monks turned into cats after Compline. The solemnity of Catholic worship was something goofy. She really kept me in check and didn't let me become too goofy of an Anglo-Catholic. To her the liturgy should be a presentation of the Gospel, in which people are transformed in Christ. But isn't that true. Sometime people get carried away with incense and vestments and choral Masses. She thought the church should be inclusive and welcoming and at the same time, holy. I think they pulled that off at St. Mary's and Robin would have been pleased.

In the last week since I've returned home to Massachusetts, I have spent a good deal of time in churches. To me they're a touch point of Grace -- a place where I can grasp at the Divine mystery that surrounds us. I miss Robin so much. And being in a church, at close proximity to our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament helps me to hold to my faith in the promises of Christ, that at the end of time all will be restored to as it was and as it should be. The world will be put to right. It will again be with her then. All who have been saved by Faith and transformed in Grace will be. That is our hope. It is the final clause of our Creed. It will be God's final act. In churches, I can cleave to this hope. Through Holy Communion, I can experience a passing sensation of that supreme union that we will all have one day together with the Saints with God. I can see the statues and images of the saints, visible reminders that Body of Christ extends beyond the earthly existence we have now. Robin is with them and with us in this way, praying for us and we for her. When the gulf that separates the living and dead is bridged, we will be more plainly united together. We will see them and be with them with God. With all my heart, this is my hope.

My Eulogy for Robin

Robin was a person who loved words. She spoke carefully and thoughtfully, knowing the right turn of phrase – the exact words that needed to be said. I think all of her friends and family will have to agree with me that Robin held nothing back. If something needed to be said; it was said, but lovingly, thoughtfully and with plenty of Grace. I have nothing on her in that respect. She could say it just as she thought it. She would be much better at this task than I could ever be.

This being said, its generally pretty hard to characterize a person with a single word (and Robin would have agreed.). But in Robin's case, I think it is a pretty easy task. There is no other word, and indeed, not even a whole phrase or sentence that so characterizes how she felt towards the world and, indeed, how the world felt towards her as the simple word“Joy”.

From what I know of her life before she met me, this has been always been so. Reading her journals which contain reflections on everything from scripture, God, her family, her friends -- everything that's worth any thought whatever –I am realizing something I've always really known about her. That she was an individual entirely enraptured in “Joy”

In high school, as I have and continue to be told by her countless friends, the love of God continually shone through her. I am told by a friend of hers, who had a terrible difficulty getting through high school on account his being gay that she was there for him, encouraging and giving him strength every day and its because of her graceful joy and love, that he feels he is here today. Her life is full of stories like that. She always made certain that everyone felt comfortable.

In college her joy continued, and gosh, look at those beautiful pictures that we have from those years. She broadened her world, outside of this beautiful small town which Robin always really considered home, and met friends from all around the country and the world. Some of those people are here today. She went to Paris, was completely enchanted by it, and constantly throughout the time I knew her, referred back to that wonderful experience. And until the night before she went into the hospital, she still corrected my miserable French..

Her work in foreign missions as a youth(well, she was a always youth) and in college are really the tip of the iceberg. We planned a mission trip to India following this coming year's work in South Korea . Our last full conservation was a 'joyful' expectation of that trip.

It was her natural disposition to always put her own needs behind those of others. She worked at Mooseheart longer than was probably emotionally healthy for her because she dearly loved the children and wanted make an important impact in their lives. When I visited that special place in her life just several months ago, I saw the love her “children” had for her and she for them. I always heard especially of Blake and Aaron, children of a drug addict, who had behavioral issues to say the least. They leaped for joy at her approaching footstep and marvelous laugh. For these poor kids, otherwise unloved and cast aside by the world, she was their protector. And she still is. She's with all the angels and saints throughout word, constantly praying for them as she did in this life on earth.

All these things she did before she met me. I can't really say much more about them. But all of her friends here can definitely agree with me that throughout her wonderful but brief life, she did everything with such Grace and love, always joyfully and hopefully. She was a truly sanctified person and sign and vehicle of the idea that God wants His creatures to be happy. The beautiful woman, whom Robin called her “Second Mom”, wrote of Robin saying that she “was like a good, clean, fresh, sweet air that everyone breathed in when she was near; like a lilac tree in full bloom, you just stand there and breathe her in.” And God, is that true.

As everyone probably knows, I met Robin nearly two years ago in South Korea. We met at church. Is there a better place to meet than that? I have to admit, I definitely was checking her out in the communion line at Mass that day. Immediately, we were captivated by each other. We spent that whole Sunday afternoon together. I didn't care that I was hours late for a party and she didn't care that she completely blew off her boss' plans for that afternoon. We really liked each other. We talked about T.S. Eliot and Ezra Pound. She was really into the Modernists at that time. The subway we took reminded her of Pound's “In a Station of the Metro.” I was impressed that she knew who Ezra Pound was. God, she was geek. I admit I tried to hold her hand, but then recoiled, hoping not to seem so eager — but I definitely was. Her awesomeness was pretty evident. I invited her out to the small town where I was teaching. I gave her my number so she could call me to figure out the logistics for her getting out there the next weekend.

She called and settled our plans for the weekend. But the call that should have, in most cases, lasted five to ten minutes, lasted 6 hours. I had never talked on the phone that long. I'm sure she never had either. We talked about God, St. Augustine,and those crazy Modernists again. Oh, and she had read Charlie Chaplin's autobiography. I had found my match in geekiness. But when she spoke of spiritual things, I sensed a grace and joy, that I had and probably will never find in another person. That night it became clear for us that it would not be long before we would fall in love. Really, I fell in love with her that night. It was clear that we had deep connection.

The next Saturday morning was our first date. It was clear day, warm for November, and we climbed a mountain and visited a Buddhist shrine-- a really holy place. At the bottom of the mountain, after sharing with her the beauty of the ocean which it over-looked, I held her hand for the first time. The glow that appeared on her face then never left it, until less than a week ago, when I held her hands and kissed her forehead and watched her slip away. That day, aside from our wedding and engagement, is the most joyous in my life. And it was to her as well. It has left an indelible mark of Grace upon my soul.

Within a day we had kissed and within several, we were saying, “I love you.” As far as it is possible outside of the movies, this was love at first sight. That week she wrote me,

“I hide my hands in the pockets
of my jacket, my jeans, or
behind my back.

What is written on my palms
that I don't want others to penetrate?

Perhaps it is the quicksilver beam of your eye
bright to behold, and so beautiful
I hesitate to share it.

Perhaps my hands bear your signature.
Should anyone see it,
they would see right through me.”

The night I proposed to her in Beijing, the night sky was filled with fireworks celebrating the Lunar New Year. The night was freezing. We cuddled on the floor near the window, watching the fireworks. I got up on the pretense of getting a cup of tea that had long since gone cold from the nightstand. I bent on one knee and asked, “We will you marry me.” She said, “Of course, I will.” There was no doubt in her mind that I was going to ask her then. Our love was predestined before the foundation of the world and God gave us each other. I hate cliché but in every sense it was meant to be. My life was indelibly changed by Robin and continues to be.

The day we were married, Rob, the rector at Grace Episcopal Church in Amherst said that God had brought Robin and me together for our salvation, and, in turn for the salvation of the world. And that is true. The love Robin and I shared cannot be measured in the time, for time is human invention, and human inventions cannot measure things that are of God. And our love was of God. I am thankful for every bit of it. We all should be. In the last two years before she left, she was happy beyond all imagining. It was the result of a deep indwelling of Grace. A grace that touched me profoundly. Our love was sacred.. Sacramental, even. God ministered himself to us, through our love. We prayed together almost every night when we were together. The Book of Common Prayer Compline service was our daily bedtime routine. And when she lay dying, I spoke the words of the Nunc Dimmitis:

Lord, you now have set your servant free *
   to go in peace as you have promised;
For these eyes of mine have seen the Savior, *
   whom you have prepared for all the world to see:
A Light to enlighten the nations, *
   and the glory of your people Israel.

Our God is good and the fact that He gave Robin to us really shows us that. Why He took her away, we can't begin to fathom and we're not meant to. It is all too big for us to understand. But we can trust that she is with Jesus, as she always was, walking with His saints, praying for us like we did for her when she lay in that hospital bed. Robin's prayers will help us get through all this. In the coming Kingdom we'll be with her and she'll tell us how good and strong we all were when she was taken by our eternal father. We have to have faith that this is true. Death can only have its full meaning in the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection. I love you and I miss you, Robin. I can't wait to see you one day.

The Four Stages According to Saint Teresa of Avila

One the greatest works of literature to have come out of the 16th century Counter-Reformation, is the Autobiography of St. Teresa of Avila. More than a narrative description of external events in her own life, it follows her spiritual development from the dryness of a reluctant novice to a woman so enraptured with the love God, that if we share her Faith, we can only attribute it to the supernatural. Within the narrative framework of this book, she sets out to describe the four stages of prayer, the later advancing from the earlier. A cursory Protestant reading of this, will, I think, hastily presume a modern Roman Catholic brand of works righteousness. But, I think a mature reading will see it as an honest and theological sound description of the work of Grace in one's life of prayer. For St. Teresa, the purpose of life is union with God. This is likewise the purpose of prayer. Therefore the purpose of life is union with God through prayer.

In her discussion, she uses the metaphor of a garden; the earth being the soul and the water being the understanding of Grace. She says,

“A beginner must look on himself as one setting out to make a garden for His Lord's pleasure, on most unfruitful soil which abounds in weeds. His Majesty roots up the weeds and will put in good plants instead.”

The first stage consists of drawing, or attempting to draw, water from a well by one's own effort. She calls this “the First Water” or “mental prayer. In it, we withdraw our minds from the outside world, and focus our minds upon seeking penitence and meditating upon Jesus' sacrifice on the cross. This is a slow and painful stage, in which we are filled 'drop by drop'. There is considerable strain involved. But through these efforts we can draw up some of our inward understanding of Grace. She says, “We shall do alright if we walk in righteousness and cling to virtue, but we shall advance at a snail's pace. Freedom of spirit is not to be had in that way.” God has placed the water in the well of our garden. At other times, the well is dry and we must await more water. It is not helpful or healthy to grasp at the water that isn't there. We must wait for the well to again fill up before we can again draw water. God sometimes suspends our understanding. We must accept this. We must wait and prepare our garden for the life sustaining water. This stage, or beginning method is useful at first, and all men will have to fall back on it in their prayer life, but it is the lowest stage and least effective.

The stages of prayer, I think, correlate with the stages in our personal sanctification. According to the process outlined in by St. Paul, this 'First Water' correlates with Gal. 2:17-19. In apprehending Christ, in his Sacrifice, we are made aware of our sinfulness and are made capable of faith. If we don't hold the Reformed doctrine of the Perseverance of the Saints, we believe that we can go back to this stage continually throughout our lives, even after our Baptism. St. Teresa admits that she from time to time falls back to this stage, and indeed, all men do. She says,

“The soul's growth is not like the body's (…). A child that has grown up and whose body has formed does not shrink and become small again. But this may, by Lord's will, happen to the soul, a I know by my own experience.”

Still maintaining the metaphor of a garden, she describes the second stage as drawing water by means of a “windlass” (which evidently is a kind of pulley). In this way we are aided, by God, in our drawing of understanding. This is the “prayer of quiet”. Much less labor is now required, “the soul becomes recollected”, and one begins “to come in contact with the supernatural. One still strains but the burden is much less. We are starting to be won over by the divine and we have a greater and more frequent understanding of things. “On arriving at this state, the soul begins to lose desire for earthly things.” We begin to become detached. There are fewer and fewer distractions. We are given over to a state of quietude. After our justification, we begin our process of sanctification. We are given over to Christ and are are transformed, through Him, into more perfect people. In this stage, we are interiorly made aware of our transformation.

The third stage is described as a garden which has been irrigated. We no longer must continually strain but leave our soul open to understanding. The Lord takes over our work and becomes a gardener Himself. We are essentially enraptured and in a state of perfect joy. The garden is beginning to flower. “The soul 's humility is now greater and more profound than it was before. It clearly sees that it has done nothing except consent to the Lord's granting it graces, and embraces it with its will.” Like the Eastern hesychasts, St. Teresa admits that a perfect union with God is possible in this lifetime, at least temporarily. This stage is almost a complete union, except that one is conscious of this rapture.

The fourth stage is this union. She likens it to rain falling upon the garden. We make no effort, no strain. We are completely enraptured. This rapture is a result of a perfect, though, temporary union with God. It is a special grace. She compares the union with God to a blazing fire and the state of one's soul to slug of iron. In this fire the iron slug will change its nature and glow. This is the soul enraptured. Both Martin Luther and Thomas a Kempis use similar analogies to describe the union of man and God. In this state we can no longer consciously analyze our experience. In this way it differs from the third stage, though it is contingent on that earlier stage. Such a stage is brief. St. Teresa herself says he has only experienced it for periods of less than an half hour. In this stage, time, memory and imagination melt away, leaving one only in the presence of God. It is as if one has been lifted into heaven. What an amazing thing this must be – to be swept into such ecstasy! This has been the goal of mystical prayer, even before the rise of the Church. The Hindu The Upanishads are all about this sort of union and so is the entire Buddhist ascetic tradition. But what makes St. Teresa's and the broader Carmelite tradition different is its center in Christ, it focus on humility, and waiting. It is centered Biblically and I believe, it is based in something authentic, something that St. Teresa and countless saints have experienced.

Institutes of the Christian Religion; Book I, Chap. VII

In this chapter, which I feel is crucial to the shape of the Protestant/ Reformed doctrine of scriptural authority, Calvin argues that scripture has authority over and above that of the Church and that the Church itself is grounded in the scriptures. The scriptures hold authority by virtue of them having been given by God. He says, “Hence the Scriptures have full authority among believers only when men regard them as having sprung from heaven, as if there the living words were heard.” For Calvin, as with the other Reformers, the Scriptures have final and absolute authority-- Sola Scriptura-- they are the very words of God, or at least the closest we have to them.

But this reading of scriptural authority creates a problem. It flies in the face of the traditional Scholastic understanding of scriptural authority which understood it as part of the depositum fidei,or the body of tradition including the Creeds, decrees of Ecumenical Councils and the writings of the Fathers and Doctors of the Church. This depositum fidei, was interpreted and used to define doctrine by the magisterium (or teaching authority of the Church). In Calvin's day this magisterium would have been exercised by bishops in union with the See of Rome assembled in Council. The doctrine of papal infallibility, in which magisterium is also exercised by a Bishop of Rome speaking ex cathedra, was not defined until 1879. In this model, Scripture has its authority from the magisterium, the authority appointed to the Apostles and therefore also to the bishops, who are the heirs to the apostolic ministry. In short, Scripture has authority because the Church says so. This is unacceptable to Calvin. He calls it “a most pernicious error”. The Church has authority only in that it is grounded in Scripture. He cites St.Paul's Epistle to the Ephesians that the church “is built upon the prophets and the apostles” (Eph.2:20). And “if the teaching of the prophets and the apostles is the foundation, this must have had authority before the Church began to exist.”

He then attempts to refute a passage from Chapter IV of St. Augustine's Constra epistolam Manichaei, where the venerable doctor of the Western Church seems to contradict Calvin's view. I've read this particular work so I'll quote this passage from Augustine judiciously. He says:

But should you meet with a person not yet believing the gospel, how would you reply to him were he to say, I do not believe? For my part, I should not believe the gospel except as moved by the authority of the Catholic Church. (1) So when those on whose authority I have consented to believe in the gospel tell me not to believe in Manichaeus, how can I but consent? Take your choice. If you say, Believe the Catholics: their advice to me is to put no faith in you; so that, believing them, I am precluded from believing you;--If you say, Do not believe the Catholics: you cannot fairly use the gospel in bringing me to faith in Manichaeus; for it was at the command of the Catholics that I believed the gospel;--Again, if you say, You were right in believing the Catholics when they praised the gospel, but wrong in believing their vituperation of Manichaeus: do you think me such a fool as to believe or not to believe as you like or dislike, without any reason? It is therefore fairer and safer by far for me, having in one instance put faith in the Catholics, not to go over to you, till, instead of bidding me believe, you make me understand something in the clearest and most open manner. To convince me, then, you must put aside the gospel. If you keep to the gospel, I will keep to those who commanded me to believe the gospel; and, in obedience to them, I will not believe you at all. But if haply you should succeed in finding in the gospel an incontrovertible testimony to the apostleship of Manichaeus, you will weaken my regard for the authority of the Catholics who bid me not to believe you; and the effect of that will be, that I shall no longer be able to believe the gospel either, for it was through the Catholics that I got my faith in it; and so, whatever you bring from the gospel will no longer have any weight with me. Wherefore, if no clear proof of the apostleship of Manichaeus is found in the gospel, I will believe the Catholics rather than you. But if you read thence some passage clearly in favor of Manichaeus, I will believe neither them nor you: not them, for they lied to me about you; nor you, for you quote to me that Scripture which I had believed on the authority of those liars. But far be it that I should not believe the gospel; for believing it, I find no way of believing you too. For the names of the apostles, as there recorded, (2) do not include the name of Manichaeus. And who the successor of Christ's betrayer was we read in the Acts of the Apostles; (3) which book I must needs believe if I believe the gospel, since both writings alike Catholic authority commends to me. The same book contains the well-known narrative of the calling and apostleship of Paul. (4) Read me now, if you can, in the gospel where Manichaeus is called an apostle, or in any other book in which I have professed to believe. Will you read the passage where the Lord promised the Holy Spirit as a Paraclete, to the apostles? Concerning which passage, behold how many and how great are the things that restrain and deter me from believing in Manichaeus.

What does Augustine seem to be saying here? In its original context, he his looking for a means of distinguishing between heresy and orthodoxy. How are we to suppose the Manicheans, who also use some arrangement of the scriptures, and who claim to be apostles of Christ, are in error. Augustine's answer is that they are outside of the body Catholic, which has authority too, and are therefore in error. The consensus of faith held by the Catholic Church, is the litmus test for orthodoxy.

Calvin is not refuting this per se but a certain reading of it which was employed by the enemies of the Reformation, who saw it as a proof that the authority of Scripture rests upon the authority of the institutional church. For them it fit within the framework of magisterial authority expressed by Scholastic theology. Calvin, dismisses this reading. He says that “Augustine is not teaching that the faith of godly men is founded on the authority of the Church; nor does he hold the view that the certainty of of the Gospel depends upon it.” Rather, Calvin argues that Augustine is merely “teaching that the there would be no certainty of the Gospel for unbelievers to win them to Christ if the consensus of the Church did not impel them.” The Church is the witness to Scripture and not, as the schoolmen argue, the source and guaranteer of it. In Calvin's mind, this frees the Scriptures from clutches of the institutional church, which according to the traditional understanding is its sole interpreter.

How then, according to Calvin, are we to come to faith in what the Scriptures proclaim, if not through the ministry of the visible and institutional church? Through the Holy Spirit, is Calvin's answer. From a cursory perspective, this is no different from the classical Roman view. But to Calvin, the ministry of the Holy Spirit is not within the exclusive dominion of the institutional church, it is free. He says, “ The word will not find acceptance in men's hearts before it is sealed by the inward testimony of the Spirit.” We are brought to the doors of faith through the Spirit, not through the testimony of the Church. The Church stands only as a witness to the truth revealed in the Scriptures. The Spirit 'seals' and 'guarantees' and not the Church. Indeed, he finishes this chapter saying “Scripture is its own authentication.” In so many words, that through the Spirit, and because Scripture is the very word of God, it bears witness to itself. It does not require the Church for authority, it is an authority in of itself.

As a former Roman Catholic, and one who has not yet shaken off all the theological baggage that comes with that, Calvin's view of Scriptural authority is really quite challenging. I was taught and once believed something quite similar to what Calvin is here refuting. That Scripture is part of Tradition, and as such, is interpreted through the lens of the magisterium, was an article of my faith. To loosely quote Cardinal Newman, the magisterium was the oracle of God. This, of course, I now reject. There is nothing in Scriptures or anything I've read in the Fathers of the Church, that would warrant me to believe this particular view. At the same time, however, Calvin's seeming rejection of reason and belief in an almost fideist position, is also rather problematic to me. It lends itself to a conception of Scripture that makes it seem as if the entire canon fell from heaven complete and perfect . This flies in the face of common sense and, indeed, historical evidence. The Scriptures were not only written by men but also compiled and edited by men. The task of compiling the canon fell to the early Ecumenical Councils, which occurred some three hundred years after the events recorded in the New Testament happened. It therefore took the discernment and wisdom of those in a position of teaching authority to work out what books ought to be recognized. Calvin obviously would have been aware of this. Its unthinkable that he would have had been ignorant of that fact. However, he seems to ignore this fact.

Indeed Calvin's fideist position on Scripture explains a lot of what has gone wrong with the evangelical church. There is no center, no normative means of interpretation, and no way of stemming the ever widening divergence of belief. Of course, the Roman Catholic position leads to an ever changing system of belief, that can and has drifted away from the Scriptural center. Take for instance papal infallibility and the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception. These things have no basis in Scripture and may indeed be at odds with it. In a way, both the 'evangelical' and 'catholic' worlds suffer from a similar problem. They are both unstable. There must be a way avoiding both these extremes.

I feel there is more to the aforementioned passage from Augustine, than either Calvin or his enemies admit. Calvin is indeed right when says that the contemporary Roman understanding of scriptural authority cannot be found in it. However, I see in that passage something deeper than Calvin seems to understand. Augustine sees the Church as a beacon of truth in the world, more than just witnesses of the Scripture. We are called to be witnesses to Christ, whose redeeming love is recorded in Scriptures. Being a people redeemed, the unbeliever can behold us and see the love that has been wrought within us and which, through the Spirit, we can exude to others. The Scriptures along with with Sacraments are tools of Grace which have been given us to transform ourselves, and with which we can transform others too. The Scriptures should not be a monolithic authority and neither should the teaching authority of the Church. They should be mutually dependent things. Like most things in Christianity, it amounts to something akin to symbiosis.

The classical Anglican position reflected in the metaphor of the 'three legged stool' attributed to Richard Hooker, which sees faith supported by Scripture, tradition and reason can be seen as a fitting solution to this problem. Each one supports the other as legs would on a three legged stool. This can be expanded, I think. The canon of scripture can be understood as product of tradition and reason and those things intern can be understood as the inverse. Like the doctrines of free choice and election, the terms of this doctrine can be understood as mutually dependent – a symbiosis. And in this way, we have a normative way of understanding Scripture, that doesn't lead to arbitrary divergence or the arbitrary definitions of some teaching authority. All three things stand as witnesses to the Truth revealed in Jesus Christ and all three equip us in our mission which is, as Christ says in the Gospel of Matthew: Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen (Matt. 28:16-20, KJV)