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Today the Doctor and I were driving around campus and we found a fire truck parked outside the Catholic center (which has a chapel, with the Blessed Sacrament reserved inside.) It didn’t look as though anything was actually burning down, but it got me speculating about something that I think was covered in my catechesis, but that I can’t now remember. What are you supposed to do if the Blessed Sacrament needs to be rescued from some sort of danger and there’s no available priest?
If it’s a question of rescuing the Body of Christ from a fire or a collapsing building, I guess you’d probably just pick up the ciborum and carry it outside. And bring it over to the nearest Catholic church, I suppose, though I’d only want to surrender such a thing to an actual priest if possible.
If enemies of the faith are descending to steal or desecrate the Hosts (i.e. the French Revolution), I seem to recall that you are supposed to consume it. (And if there are multiple hosts and nobody else around, it’s okay to consume several hosts by yourself, picking them up with your hands?) If you had good reason to believe that you were not in a state of grace, I guess hiding it might be the best you could do, or taking it with you when you fled. But in the event that you had to flee with it a considerable distance, are there rules about the most respectful way to carry such a sacred thing? Are there conventions about the most appropriate hiding places? Is it all right to burn it, and if so, what should you do with the ashes?
It’s not a problem that many people are likely to have, but on the other hand, if you ever were in such a position, there probably wouldn’t be time or opportunity to go thumbing through Catholic moral manuals to determine the correct course of action. In any case, I have a few times been the “attending” person in a perpetual adoration chapel, and in that case it seems like you should know these things since you are, in theory, assigned to be there for the purpose of protecting the Body of Christ. Surely one of the pre-Vatican II manuals had something about this?
St. Louis-Marie de Montfort,
Pope St. Pius X,
St. Joseph,
St. Ambrose of Milan,
St. Thomas Aquinas,
St. Francis (and St. Clare),
St. Catherine of Siena,
St. Alphonsus Ligouri,
St. John Chrysostom,
I think that when Hosts need to be disposed of and they cannot be eaten, they are dissolved in water, not burnt. Maybe the reason for this is that dissolution in water more closely resembles digestion.
Vin Lewis proposed a similar situation. Moslem terrorists burst into a church. Some make for the congregation. Some make for the tabernacle, to desecrate the Hosts. Do you try to protect the tabernacle from desecration, or your mother (one of the congregation) form murder? He claimed that you should defend the Host, as desecration is a greater sin than murder. But, he admitted that in the actual situation he’d probably save his mother. So he admitted that he’d probably make the wrong decision and have to confess later. However, as Our Lord is risen and cannot suffer real pain or injury from desecration, whereas one’s mother would, I’m not sure.
Yes, and if you have some reason to believe that your mother is not in a state of grace, you might figure that the evil of risking her soul is worse than the desecration (since, as you point out, Our Lord cannot actually be hurt.) Not too sure about that one.
I would choose saving a person’s life (whether or not it were my mother) over saving the Hosts. Jesus gives himself to save others and choosing the person’s life is conforming to the choice of Jesus.
This reminds me of something I thought in response to your recent thread about courting martyrdom. My first preference of a way to die would be while saving someone else’s life (just after having gone to Confession). Being a martyr is only my second preference.
I think it is the same principle. I express love and service of God through love and service of people.
“Jesus gives himself to save others and choosing the person’s life is conforming to the choice of Jesus.”
JK, if you apply this logic simplistically, would anyone risk his or her life to save the Hosts, though? Martyrs really have offered their lives in order to prevent them being desecrated. If they had reasoned, “Christ offers Himself for people, and I am a person,” no one would make the choice to protect the Hosts. Also, I’ll complicate things by making the person in question a priest, who has a special duty to protect the sanctuary. It seems that he would expect the congregation to see to their own safety (women and children first) while he dealt with the Blessed Eucharist. I’m sure he’d shout some directions at a responsible person and dismiss the altar boys, but otherwise I assume he’d see to the Hosts.
You’re certainly right, JK, in observing that serving others is one important way of serving God. It’s isn’t the only way, of course; we also go to Mass, pray, and engage in various devotions that allow us to honor God more directly.
To save the life of another is, of course, a fine thing to do. But I think Jesus makes it pretty clear that our first loyalty must always be to God. Cases like this still aren’t straightforward, because there are certainly times when God wants us to devote our attention to our neighbors. So, for example, if the priest is already on the job of saving the Blessed Sacrament, we’re not turning our back on the Lord if we say to ourselves, “I guess I’ve been allotted the lesser task of helping Auntie out of the church.” We’re not saving the Host, but we’re not declining to save it either; the task simply wasn’t given to us. That’s why Vin Lewis’ case is somewhat hard — it’s not perfectly clear what our first priority should be.
But to say straightforwardly, “I’d rather die for another fallen person than for Christ himself,” seems questionable to me. Human life is only a conditional good, whereas God is the highest and greatest of unconditional goods. As Christians we’re always supposed to love and esteem God above all else.
But it isn’t clear to me exactly what your position is here. So tell me, JK, what you would do with Endo’s famous test case: a Jesuit priest has come to Japan to serve the faithful, who are undergoing severe persecution by the government. (Endo tells it much more dramatically, of course, but I’ll give the gist for those who don’t know the story.) He is determined that he will be martyred, if necessary, for the faith. As it turns out, he does get captured, and the Japanese want him to defy the Lord by trampling a cross. He’s prepared for this sort of thing, and determined to undergo death rather than desecrate the cross… but it turns out that isn’t the test. Some other Japanese Christians have also been captured, and they will be tortured to death unless he tramples the cross. What should he do?
Oddly enough, this case came up in a paper given by Nick Wolterstorff to the Cornell philosophy department last spring. He claimed that it was an example of “tragedy” by which he meant that there was no good and right decision. Nonetheless, he told me that he had given the paper in several different forums and all the philosophers he met had agreed that trampling was ultimately the right thing to do.
I’m interested to hear your reply, JK, but I’ll tell you my attitude straight off: I was seriously disturbed. I don’t think the “puzzle” is difficult at all, actually. Trampling the cross was clearly the wrong choice. I could say more about why, but first I’m interested to know whether you agree.
It’s still desecration to have the unannointed hands of the laity touching the Blessed Sacrament or the holy vessels holding the Sacred Hosts. However, if no priests or deacons are present, then if it all possible, a layman should rescue the hosts rather than a laywoman, thereby limiting the degree of desecration. I think Bishop Williamson, my favorite bishop, would support me on this one.
You don’t need to appeal to a schismatic and misogynist bishop to make that point. I’m pretty sure the FSSP priests would agree that it’s better to have a layman do such a job as opposed to a laywoman. However, in times of extreme emergency, you don’t want to be standing around quibbling about pecking orders. If my husband were standing by my side at the moment in question, then sure, I’d let him handle it. But if the building were burning down and the only men around were strangers whose religious affiliation I didn’t know, or Novus Catholics who obviously had never even thought about such a question, or cowards who were simply running in fear… I hope I’d be brave enough to rescue the Blessed Sacrament myself rather than running around looking for a man to do it.
Disclaimer: the characterization of Bishop Williamson as a schismatic is a private opinion of Clara, not necessarily endorsed by all members of the Cornell Society for a Good Time.
I’m not sure, by the way, that “desecration” is a proper word to use here. To “desecrate” something sacred is necessarily sinful, but it isn’t sinful to handle the Blessed Sacrament in this extreme case. The difference between desecration and a virtuous deed is the difference between the forbidden and the morally required. So I don’t see how something like this could qualify as desecration. That’s my hunch, anyway, but it’s too late to go looking things up tonight; maybe I’ll follow it out tomorrow.
I don’t have time to track down a reference, but a priest and a religious sister were killed in Rochester rescuing the Sacred Hosts from a burning Church.
The preferred method of dealing with a Host that cannot be consumed is to dissolve it in water… the presence ceases when the appearance of bread does through the bread being dissolved. I don’t suspect it has anything to do with digestion, water is just neutral.
There’s an old hypothetical situation/canonical joke: “What do you do if, after the consecration a mouse jumps on the altar steals the host and runs off?” Where the answer is “Burn down the Church.”
“I’m not sure, by the way, that “desecration” is a proper word to use here. To “desecrate” something sacred is necessarily sinful, but it isn’t sinful to handle the Blessed Sacrament in this extreme case. The difference between desecration and a virtuous deed is the difference between the forbidden and the morally required. So I don’t see how something like this could qualify as desecration.”
Exactly. If it were “still desecration,” then it would “still be forbidden.” JSP, you say it isn’t forbidden. I mean, if you happen to cough or sneeze while consuming the Host, you put your hand to your mouth lest it fall out.
Desecration is an objective state, not necessarily a willed, deliberate act. For instance, desecration could result from a pure accident, but no one, however is morally responsible for the act.
But back to Clara’s defense of women touching the Sacred Hosts..
Would it necessarily be better to have a traditional Catholic woman securing the Hosts from fire, rather than a Novus Catholic man, or even a non-Catholic man for that matter?
I think we should seek clarification from a serious traditionally minded priest, rather than speculate using our malformed, masonically influenced consciences.
“That’s why Vin Lewis’ case is somewhat hard — it’s not perfectly clear what our first priority should be.”
I think with a priest on the scene it’s easier. He will see to saving the Sacred Hosts. As for his elderly mother in the first pew, I guess he’d just have to make her a second priority and hope someone in the congregation, an altar boy, an assistant priest, etc., etc. would see to her.
Also, if trampling the cross is still wrong, which I think it is even in Endo’s hypothetical, then that lends a bit more support to Vin Lewis’ proposal. For Our Lord really can’t be hurt by having a cross trampled on, either. And even if my family were in a state of mortal sin (per Clara’s example), I can’t see how I could be justified in trampling on a cross to save them. So if it came down to rescuing my family member or the Host but not both, I’d hope and pray the particular family member was of the same mind as me and would willingly choose martyrdom for him or herself (which entails forgiveness for sin) rather than seeking merely temporal salvation. I’d hope that relative would tell me “Save the tabernacle!”
And if it truly were a matter of *seconds*, no, JSP, I don’t think I’d have to genuflect as I opened it. My act of rescue would be sufficient honor for the time being.
“Would it necessarily be better to have a traditional Catholic woman securing the Hosts from fire, rather than a Novus Catholic man, or even a non-Catholic man for that matter?”
JSP, this was not the question. The question was whether, as the church burns down, one should waste time trying to persuade casual passers-by of unknown religious persuasion to save the Eucharist as opposed to doing so oneself, even though a woman. There was no question of “better or worse.” If one could *find* a man to do it, then great. The question supposed that finding one would be imprudent given the immediate threat posed.
Men should be concerned with safety, guns, and fun stuff like that, right? When an armed psychopath is trying to break into a house, a solitary woman might want to call 911. They’ll send “real men” to deal with the psychopath, right? But in the five-ten minutes before the cops arrive, if there’s a gun in the house, I’d tell her to lock and load.
“And if it truly were a matter of *seconds*, no, JSP, I don’t think I’d have to genuflect as I opened it. My act of rescue would be sufficient honor for the time being.”
How liberal can you get..
I’m supposing that by genuflecting I might give time to the people desecrating the Church when I should be *rescuing the Host.* If there’s time to genuflect, by all means, I’d still have to. If there were people already in the Sanctuary with pliers and hammers going to work on tearing the tabernacle open (as happened in the Spanish Civil War) are you telling me that rather than leaping over the Communion rail to pummel them, you’d stop to genuflect in front of the rail, and then again at the foot of the altar, then pummel the desecrators? They could get the tabernacle door open at any moment. That’s what I’m talking about.
Tobias Petrus,
This is a potential slippery slope situation.
If you make one concession that genuflecting isn’t required (for instance, you are saving the Blessed Sacrament from imminent desecration from commie atheists) and the next thing you know you’ll be encouraging Clara to sign up to be an extraordinary eucharistic minister at the Cornell Catholic Community pretzel and beer mass.
Has anyone read the book or seen the movie “Angela’s Ashes”? This conversation belongs there.
As I have not seen the film, Maximillian, please explain.
When that book came out I was so sad for Frank McCourt’s poor mother and father. To have sacrificed so much and have been so faithful, and then to have your son betray that faith and that sacrifice.
More than just abandon the faith of his fathers, Frank McCourt refused to pay the charge to send his mother’s coffin back to Ireland for burial, so he had this devout Catholic woman cremated. The final insult.
Tobias Petrus,
It’s an anti-Catholic screed, but of the worst kind.
If our blog conversation does not meet your standards, Maximillian, feel free to read the Breviary, or the Book of Common Prayer, or check out a demo derby instead.
BTW, I’m being facetious up top. Too much Stephen Colbert at night. (seriously, I wouldn’t genuflect if some thugs were about to open the tabernacle)
“Stephen Colbert ”
Speaking of liberal . . .
Just to throw in a possible angle that has not been mentioned, if a lay person were to handle the ciboria, would using a humeril vail or something close to it resolve some of these issues (I assume the sacristy would be close to the tabernacle in most churches)? This way there is no direct contact with the ciboria or Sacred Hosts and of course would only be allowed in the case of an emergency such as this. Desecration by extraordinary ministers of the Eucharist is the result of lay people *actually touching* the Hosts.
I guess what I am trying to get as is, can the supernatural issue of a lay man or woman not being consecrated to handle the Sacred Hosts be resolved *in the case of emergency* by not touching the ciboria directly.
What is the purpose of the humeril vail? Was it implemented to transport the Sacred Hosts safely? I have seen it used in benediction and whenever a ciborium leaves the sanctuary for a Eucharistic Procession or on Maundy Thursday.
The last post was mine.
-Franciscus
Angela’s Ashes isn’t vigorously pro-Catholic, but neither is it an anti-Catholic screed. I haven’t seen the movie (maybe that plays up the anti-Catholic side more; it would hardly be the first time), but I read the book a number of years ago and enjoyed it. It’s autobiographical, and obviously Frank McCourt wasn’t a terribly good Catholic. That in itself doesn’t exactly make the book anti-Catholic, though. For one thing, he doesn’t exactly take himself to be a hero, or even a particularly good guy. And though some of the clerics in the book do come across as being rather petty (for example, the priest who won’t take him as an altar boy because he’s too poor and generally too low class) many others are really quite admirable, and it’s obvious that Frank would never have made it to adulthood without the help of charitable Catholic organizations like the St. Vincent de Paul Society.
I couldn’t quite tell how much sarcasm was in JSP’s remark (and maybe you’re getting your impressions from the movie that I haven’t seen) but his parents were terrible. His father especially — he was basically a drunk who starved and then abandoned them — but his mother wasn’t particularly admirable either. She doesn’t really take care of the kids, and periodically leaves them to fend for themselves while she retires to bed in “depression.” There’s one scene where four-year-old Frank gets caught stealing fruit from a greengrocer’s… because he’s trying to feed his younger brothers, who have been crying from hunger for more than a day while their parents pay no attention. The owner of the store realizes what’s going on, and instead of punishing Frank, gives him a basket of food. Don’t know if that episode made it into the film, but anyway, it wasn’t a “good upbringing” in any sense of the word, and he doesn’t blame the Church for that.
I’m not certain which scene Maximillion is thinking of, but the most relevant one I can remember is after Frank’s First Communion. He goes to his First Communion Mass and receives with the other kids, but he’s feeling horrible, and after Mass he feels even worse. He hasn’t realized it yet, but he’s coming down with typhoid (which nearly kills him, and would have if not for — again — the St. Vincent de Paul Society.) So he vomits in his grandmother’s backyard on the way home, and she sends someone over to ask the priest what they should do about the vomit. He tells her, basically, just clean it up. That might be irreverent, but it would depend on how much time had passed. Once the Host has dissolved, it really would be okay just to clean it up.
But possibly Maximillion had another episode in mind… like I said, it’s been awhile.
Well there is certainly much food for thought here!
I am somewhat alarmed by what might be crypto-idolatry towards the “host.” By that I mean seeing the host in the tabernacle as of greater importance than the Most Blessed Sacrament. It is a fine distinction, but one that needs to be made. The Blessed Sacrament is a Person: Jesus Christ. Using neutral pronouns such as “it” can be problematic. At times it is necessary because of English usage, but in this case I would suggest capitalizing ‘It.’ I might be nit-picking here, but such things have contributed to a loss of belief in the Real Presence. We don’t refer to people as ‘it’ and shouldn’t refer to Jesus Christ as ‘it.’ I hope this is clear, but if not, let me know and I’ll try to explain better. But since it’s not what the original post was about, I’ll leave it for now.
Clara asked the question, “What are you supposed to do if the Blessed Sacrament needs to be rescued from some sort of danger and there’s no available priest?” The answer is, you rescue the Blessed Sacrament if you are safely able to do so and take It to the nearest place of safety until a priest can be summoned. If there is no place of safety reasonably nearby or a priest cannot be summoned in a short space of time, then the Blessed Sacrament is to be consumed by one or more people. If no one present is in a state of grace they should make an act of contrition and then consume the Blessed Sacrament. This reception is neither desecration nor sacrilege subjectively, however it should be confessed.
In a situation such as this, the fact that the person acting is not a priest or cleric is of no consequence. This is an extraordinary circumstance. One does what one must. The importance is the safety of the Blessed Sacrament.
However, you should never put your life in moral or actual danger to accomplish this. As a rule tabernacles are secure and immovable. If you don’t know where the key(s) are or cannot acces them, and you will not be able to open the tabernacle, you may not put your life in danger. Neither may you attempt to save the Blessed Sacrament if you have moral certainty that you might not succeed, e.g. the fire is too intense. Proper Tabernacles will be a better protection for the Blessed Sacrament than the results of your attempt. You must be morally certain that you will have the desired outcome.
In the case of the terrorist attack you take care of what you can given your position. A person in the back of the church will hardly be in a position to save the Blessed Sacrament unless it is reserved closer to them than the priest. Again, as this is an extraordinary circumstance, you don’t wait for the priest if you are closer to the tabernacle. And given that you are not a priest you might have a better chance of saving the Most Holy. You do what you can where you are.
The issue of who (one with or without consecrated hands) touches the ciboria or pyx is a sign of the idolatry of the host I mentioned earlier. It becomes an issue when one fails to understand to the extent that one can the Mystery of the Eucharist and the teaching of the Church. Holy Church has always distinguished between two types of ministers of the Eucharist: the minister of consecration and the minister of administration. The minister of consecration has consecrated hands because he must be an ordained priest. The minister of administration need not have consecrated hands. Because the Sacrament of the Eucharist is a permanent sacrament the two are not necessarily the same person. The time of confection and the time of reception may be licitly separated by as much as a week. Before the Missal of Paul VI Deacons, whose hands are not consecrated, were, as now, ministers of administration. History bears witness to the fact that in the early church the laity communicated themselves. “The practice of the laity giving themselves Holy Communion was formerly, and is today, allowed only in case of necessity” (Catholic Encyclopedia, 1909). Given that Deacons do not have consecrated hands and that it is allowed for the laity to give themselves Communion in case of necessity, it cannot in any way be a desecration of the Blessed Sacrament for a layperson to rescue the Blessed Sacrament in cases of danger. Remember, that is the issue here. Consecrated hands are not necessary to touch the Blessed Sacrament.
The confusion may arise from the rule that only clerics are allowed to handle the sacred vessels and certain other items under ordinary circumstances. The circumstances we are envisioning are not ordinary.
The humeral veil is a ceremonial veil. Its purpose is not to keep the bearer from touching the ciborium, monstrance, or pyx directly, but rather as a sign of the sacred character of the thing held or carried. The use of veils to hold or carry sacred things goes back to the Jewish temple and to pagan rites. A similar veil is used by the beareres of the mitre and crosier to protect them from soil.
Thank you, Father, for clearing up the original question.
” By that I mean seeing the host in the tabernacle as of greater importance than the Most Blessed Sacrament.”
I do not follow, Father. I am assuming that the Host in the tabernacle is consecrated and hence is indeed the Most Blessed Sacrament. What distinction is there between the Sacrament and the consecrated sacramental species here? As This is God Incarnate and my adoration is not secret, I am not sure how “crypto-idolatry” is involved. Do you mean that we’re viewing the Host as something other than the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Christ?
Clara wrote: “Trampling the cross was clearly the wrong choice. I could say more about why, but first I’m interested to know whether you agree.”
I do not agree that it is clear. If it were I in that position, I would trample a cross rather than see people tortured. The question brings to my mind 1 John 4:20,21: “If anyone says, “I love God,” yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen. And he has given us this command: Whoever loves God must also love his brother.”
While God is, of course, real, our experience of God is through weakened and disordered intellects and emotions. To a large extent it is abstract and imperfect. I do not think it is right to place my idea of God above the life of human being whom God has commanded me to love.
Clara wrote: “Human life is only a conditional good, whereas God is the highest and greatest of unconditional goods. As Christians we’re always supposed to love and esteem God above all else.”
How then are we to understand Jesus profaning the Sabbath by performing acts of healing? Was Our Lord choosing preservation of human life and the prevention of human suffering over loving and esteeming God? That does appear to be what His critics thought, but I disagree. I believe He did the right thing and that we ought to imitate Him. If I were on my way to the last Sunday Mass of the day and came upon a person who was injured and in need of my help, then I would miss Mass in order to help that person. It is not because I think that person is more important than God; it is because I love God through that person.
JK, it is one thing to skip Mass in order to save a human life. It is another thing intentionally to desecrate a Christian symbol, as an act of rejection of God, in order to help a human being. Our Lord said that anyone who loved father, mother, sister, or brother more than Him is unworthy of Him. Remember the man who was called to be a disciple but asked permission to bury his recently deceased father first. He was told, “Let the dead bury the dead.” To trample a cross in Japan meant to reject Christ. One may not reject Christ in order to save one’s own life. It follows that one may not reject Him in order to save another’s.
If one went through the form of a baptism but without intending to baptize, there would be no baptism. It seems to me that a desecration would be similar. If I go through the form of rejecting God without intending to reject Him, then how is that really rejecting God?
If what you are saying is true, then the martyrs all died for nothing. They would have been perfectly justified in burning incense to the pagan gods while “denying it” in their hearts. If it’s right to deny Christ “formally” to save others, it must be okay to deny Him “formally” to save oneself, right? One may not lie in these solemn situations.
One must bear witness to the truth, at the cost of one’s own life. To reject God “formally” while not agreeing “in one’s heart” is simply to bear false witness, which is immoral. One may not lie about fundamental, religious truth in this way.
In looking back at what I wrote I can clearly see the ambiguity. I hope this helps.
There are those who have become so pharasaical regarding rubrics and the law that they are blind to the Most Holy Sacrament. “It” becomes for them an object rather than a person. They relate to the Most Holy as a “thing” and not as God Incarnate seated at the right hand of the Father, the second Person of the Trinity. This is the worst form of sacrilege, for it is a denial of both the doctrine of the Trinity (one God, three PERSONS) and the personhood of Jesus Christ, and an objectification of the Real Presence. It is not an overt idolatry since the claim is made that the “it” is the Blessed Sacrament, but in truth it is for them subjectively bread since they have reduced God to a “thing,” an “object.” This is extremely dangerous. Objectification of the Blessed Sacrament is not the beginning of a slippery slope but a step into the abyss of denial that the Eucharist is the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus Christ, really, truly, and substantially present sub specie of bread and wine. This is precisely what happened in the last third of the twentieth century.
I hope this makes things clearer. It’s not an easy thing to explain and struggling with ways to get my ideas across so please ask questions.
Thank you, Father, but I am not sure how the confusion of Person and object bears on the questions here. I can see how one could have excessive scruples about touching or handling the Person of Our Lord.
First of all, thanks to Fr. Bailey for his posts, which were very helpful on several points. That was the kind of practical and realistic advice that this thread really needed.
I was a little surprised, though, when you said that we should not put ourselves at risk for the sake of protecting the Body of Christ. I mean, I understand the point about not running into a burning building when the Blessed Sacrament is locked in the tabernacle anyway. You’d only get yourself killed, and It will probably be safe in such a secure place. But what about a case where you are the attendant in an Adoration chapel, and someone comes and tries to steal the Blessed Sacrament from there? Isn’t it basically your job, in that case, to try to stop them? If they’re armed, should you just shrink away, let them leave, and call the police afterwards, or should you do something more? I mean, if the thing being taken were my child, I think I’d try to stop them, and seems wrong to do less for Our Lord. But I’d be grateful for your word on the matter.
I wanted to express appreciation to JK as well. I was glad to hear your thoughts and it’s always nice to see a new participant in the forum! And you’re right to observe that God sometimes excuses us from our normal duties to Him when He wants us to tend to the needs of others. So, for example, we are normally required to attend Mass on Sundays and Holy Days, but if you’re tending a very sick person who can’t do without you, you’re excused from Mass for that day. And Holy Mother Church makes that clear, so you’re not neglecting your obligations to God by missing Mass for important reasons like that.
This case is different, though. There are some public actions whose significance cannot be cancelled by one’s own intention. So, for example, if I sign a business contract, and then renege on it later with the argument “I wasn’t serious” or “my fingers were crossed under the table,” that doesn’t cut any ice. Signing my name to the contract has that significance, and I don’t have the power to cancel it merely through willing that the action mean something else. Publicly denying Christ is similar to this. Everybody present — the Japanese captors, the Christians being tortured, and the priest himself — understood the significance of what he was doing. And Christ Himself declares that a public denial of Him is a true denial: “Whosoever therefore shall confess me before men, him will I confess also before my Father which is in heaven. But whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven.”
I know it seems terrible to choose God at the expense of men, but the tragedy is illusory. The thing to understand is that immortal souls are much more important than transitory human lives! By refusing to publicly deny Christ, the priest gives all those other Christians the opportunity to share in his affirmation, and to be martyrs for the faith. And then all will be well for them, and also for the other Christians who hear about their noble deeds. On the other hand, by submitting to the Japanese and denying Christ, he will save the lives of the Christians at the cost of seriously weakening their faith. (This was especially true for this man, since as a Jesuit priest he followed in a proud tradition and clearly knew that he was not allowed to deny Jesus Christ before men. But to some degree the same would be true for any Christian.) Worst of all, this will demoralize the entire Japanese Christian community.
Compared to such terrible spiritual effects, how important are a few lives? As I said, life is a good, but a conditional good. We are explicitly warned that we should not value it overmuch.
Tobias Petrus you wrote: “To trample a cross in Japan meant to reject Christ. One may not reject Christ in order to save one’s own life. It follows that one may not reject Him in order to save another’s.”
Given your premises I think your logic is correct. One may never reject Christ for any reason. But I’m not sure this answers the delemma.
So, lets complicate the issue.
What if the missionarys intent in trampling the cross is to save lives, not to deny Christ: may he trample the cross?
When is a cross a cross and when is it two pieces of wood? What makes it a cross? Could he not have been trampling two pieces of wood?
Is trampling a cross always a denial of Christ? Is it always a denial of Christ in feudal Japan? Is it always a sacrilege?
Christians aren’t the only ones for whom the cross is a religious symbol. What if the cross is meant for pagan use?
By not trampling the cross was the missionary seeking the glory of martyrdom at the cost of the lives of others? Is this moral?
What other complications can we come up with?
This is what Redemptorists once called the Moral Forum or Moral Case which communities discussed every week. Now it’s called theological reflection, a name I don’t particularly care for. A situation was presented and looked at from as many angles as the confreres could come up with. The importance is the process, not the results, because it gets people thinking and studying among other things.
The key to this case is that it seems to be complicated by the other prisoners. The missionary’s choices seem to be: trample the cross and everyone lives or don’t trample the cross and the other prisoners are tortured and die. These are not his choices. His choices are to trample the cross or not trample the cross. That the Japanese may torture and kill the other prisoners is not his responsibility and it cannot be put on him. It is on the Japanese and only the Japanese. Take the other prisoners out of the equation and the answer is very clear. The missionary may not trample the cross for to do so would be a denial of Christ. Saving the others just doesn’t enter into it at all.
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Angela’s Ashes…. well, how can I speak favorably about a book/movie that portrays my confreres in such a negative way? Ahem. Actually, I found both book and movie to be depressing but if I recall correctly I did enjoy the book. I was told by those who were there and lived it that it was a pretty accurate portrayal of life in Ireland at the time even regarding the Church and the clergy.
“That the Japanese may torture and kill the other prisoners is not his responsibility and it cannot be put on him. It is on the Japanese and only the Japanese.”
Thanks, Fr. Bailey — this is a critical point. And as a philosopher I should have thought to point that out! Of course, the case is potentially confusing just because we normally would think it obligatory to take steps to stop others from being tortured and killed. So, for example, put yourself in the same situation, except this time the Japanese don’t want you to trample the cross… they just want your wallet. And you don’t want to give it to them because it’s payday, your week’s wages are in the wallet, and you’d been looking forward to spending them on a weekend trip. So you say, “Hey, what the Japanese do is their business; it’s got nothing to do with me.”
Well, that does look like the bad kind of casuistry. You’ve got to be pretty callous to let several people suffer and die rather than sacrifice your wallet. The difference, of course, is that giving up your wallet isn’t sinful. Trampling the cross is gravely sinful, so we have to apply the Catholic principle: do no evil that good may come of it. Desecrating the cross isn’t something we’re ever allowed to do, under any circumstances. So we aren’t responsible for the consequences if others decide to do evil on account of our choosing good.
“So, for example, if I sign a business contract, and then renege on it later with the argument ‘I wasn’t serious’ or ‘my fingers were crossed under the table,’ that doesn’t cut any ice. Signing my name to the contract has that significance, and I don’t have the power to cancel it merely through willing that the action mean something else.”
I’m not sure the analogy works… If a robber has your daughter tied up in the next room and says sign this contract to pay me a million dollars or I kill her you can in fact sign the contract and it won’t be valid because it’s signed under duress.
As for the idea of mental reservation, the Catholic Encylopedia article is useful:
http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/10195b.htm
So, how about an example mid-way between denying Christ and giving up your wallet. Let’s say some gun-wielding maniac wants to know your marital status, as in the case of Abraham. And if you own up to having entered into what St. Paul calls the “great mystery,” then someone dies. Or, to be a bit more realistic, under what conditions is a secret Jesuit in Elizabethan England required to ‘fess up to being a priest. At the time the Jesuits were toying around with “mental reservation,” where you could say something but hold a unstated reservation in your mind.
Q. “Are you a Catholic priest?”
A. “No” (out loud) . . . I will not answer your question (in his mind)
I’m not sure what the Church ever said about such things.
in the oath of office, government officials say “… and I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion, so help me God.”
Hmm… I tried to post the Catholic Encylopedia article on mental reservation… perhaps the link has caught it in a moderaton queue. Go to New Advent and look at “Mental Reservation”.
Your example of the secret Jesuit seems to be one of “strict mental reservation”. Which was “acted upon by some of the Catholic confessors of the Faith in England in the difficult circumstances in which they were frequently placed. It was, however, condemned as formulated by Sanchez by Innocent XI on March 2, 1679 (propositions 26, 27). After this condemnation by the Holy See no Catholic theologian has defended the lawfulness of strict mental reservations.”
“In the strict mental reservation the speaker mentally adds some qualification to the words which he utters, and the words together with the mental qualification make a true assertion in accordance with fact. On the other hand, in a wide mental reservation, the qualification comes from the ambiguity of the words themselves, or from the circumstances of time, place, or person in which they are uttered.”
There’s more there, but it’s confusing…
Tobias Petrus wrote: “If what you are saying is true, then the martyrs all died for nothing. They would have been perfectly justified in burning incense to the pagan gods while “denying it” in their hearts. If it’s right to deny Christ “formally” to save others, it must be okay to deny Him “formally” to save oneself, right?”
Consider the principle shown in Can. 1324 point 5: “The perpretrator of a violation is not exempted from penalty, but the penalty prescribed in the law or precept must be diminished, or a penance substituted in its place, if the offence was committed by:
one who was compelled by grave fear, even if only relative, or by reason of necessity or grave inconvenience, if the act is intrinsically evil or tends to be harmful to souls;”
Based on this, I conclude that, while it is not “okay” to deny Christ under threat of death, it is not a mortal sin, but venial only. Wouldn’t this make the actions of martyrs more meritorious? If they refuse to deny Christ when the alternative is Hell, there is an element of self-interest in their action. If the denial is a venial sin, the refusal to deny becomes more purely a gift to God.
You are confusing things, JK. Getting to heaven is legitimate self-interest and perfect charity for God *at the same time.* I think this point may be part of Pope Benedict’s teaching in “Deus caritas est”: “eros” (love with some benefit to the lover) and “agape” (love as a gift to the beloved) ultimately are not at odds. You may not be indifferent to your own salvation, as God made you to get to Heaven. The Baltimore Catechism says that the purpose of human life is “To know, love, and serve God in this lifetime SO AS to enjoy eternal happiness with Him in the next.” “Getting to Heaven,” understood correctly, is not “selfish” in any negative sense, and indeed it is exactly the same thing as “being a gift to God.” If you love God, you want to be with Him for all eternity. So the meritoriousness of martyrdom is not dependent on the (false) notion that it is only a venial sin to avoid it.
Furthermore, apostasy on the part of an adult Christian, even under duress, would still be a mortal sin. We are called to be soldiers of Christ, and soldiers are not supposed to desert or defect, no matter how bad the conflict gets. Their sin would be less culpable the greater the torture or threat is, but is a mortal sin nonetheless. The martyrs went to their deaths because they *knew* that to cave in would be a damnable sin. When apostates were reconciled with the Church, they were treated as particularly egregious public sinners, not as perpetrators of merely venial faults.
There are two types of mental reservation: wide and strict. Wide mental reservation is morally acceptable because it expresses the truth as known to the speaker. Strict mental reservation is not acceptable because it is a lie.
In the case of the Jesuit in England when asked:
Q. “Are you a Catholic priest?”
A. “No” (out loud) . . . I will not answer your question (in his mind)
This is an example of a strict mental reservation. It is clearly immoral.
A moral truth is the outward expression of that which is known. The words of the priest express what he knows is not true. Adding “I will not answer your question” in his mind does not change the fact that he is expressing what he knows is not true. He is lying to save his life. This is never permissable as a lie is intrinsically evil and an evil may never be done even if the outcome is for a good. The only time one may lie is when there is a conflict between justice and veracity (e.g. the obligation to keep the seal of the confessional) in which case justice prevails.
Someone comes to the door and asks:
Q. “Is Jane home?”
A. “No, she isn’t home (to you).”
The words “to you” are not spoken.
But in fact she is home and doesn’t want to see the visitor. The response is called an equivocation or an amphibology (from which we get our word ‘fib’). When used for a good (not to hurt another person, to save a life, to prevent discord, etc.) it is morally acceptable. The meaning of the speaker is “She isn’t home to you.” The speaker is not lying. He is expressing what he knows to be true, namely that Jane isn’t home to the person at the door. He is reserving mentally part of his response. This is an example of wide mental reservation.
The question of intent doesn’t enter into the morality of either wide or strict mental reservation. One is sinful, the other is not. It is important not to confuse intent with with mental reservation. Intent is an act of the will whereby a desired end is reached. This is known as actual intention. It does not change truth. Just because I don’t intend to do something doesn’t mean that I haven’t,in fact, done it. Sacramental intention is something different. It is the intention to do what Christ instituted the sacraments to effect.
Lets apply this to the case of the martyrs Clara presented. He cannot take advantage of wide mental reservation. That he believes in Christ is a personal truth that cannot be equivocated on. It demands a yes or no response. Therefore he cannot justify trampling the cross and thinking “for you Japanese I do not believe” because it is still a denial of Christ even if only to one person. The same applies to offering incense to a pagan god or bowing before a pagan image.
Canon 1324 is dealing with canonical penalties not moral acts. It’s interest is those who have committed a crime (broken a law) and, due to mitigating circumstances, should be sentenced to a lesser penalty. In the legal forum denial of Christ is not a crime so the canon bears no relevence. Denial of Christ is an immoral act or sin.
The moral forum and the legal forum are related but they are not the same thing. Legal principles and moral principles are not interchangeable though they may be similar. Keep in mind law is the body of laws and regulations made by or adopted by ecclesiastical authority, for the government of the Christian organization and its members. When one breaks a law one commits a crime which is also a sin. Morality is about the relationship of man and his free actions to God and his supernatural end, It proposes the means instituted by God for the attainment of that end. When one acts immorally one commits sin and may or may not also commit a crime.
If one is compelled by grave fear or indeed any circumstance which mitigates the freedom of the will, then the sin is venial. As you know, one of the three conditions for committing a mortal sin is full consent of the will. If there is a lack of freedom, then there cannot be full consent since the will is not free to act. Threat of death might seem like a mitigating factor but it is not. For a Christian death is a joyful transition from this life to the next. It is also the natural physical end of man in the sense that none will escape it and only our Lady has. So fear of death is not considered something that takes away the will’s freedom to act.
Clara wrote:
“Compared to such terrible spiritual effects, how important are a few lives? As I said, life is a good, but a conditional good. We are explicitly warned that we should not value it overmuch.”
I am very nervous about this line of reasoning, since, as I understand it, this was the justification for the burning of heretics. I just don’t trust myself with permission to say that lives are expendable.
Tobias Petrus, I concede that legitimate self-interest and perfect charity for God are not at odds. It is in just the same way that love of neighbour and perfect charity for God are not at odds.
Fr. Scott Baily, are you saying that threat of death never constitutes a mitigating factor or only in the case of apostacy? Neither of these positions makes much sense to me. Perhaps I am misunderstanding.
“I am very nervous about this line of reasoning, since, as I understand it, this was the justification for the burning of heretics.”
It is simplistic to say that this was the reasoning behind the burning of heretics. The spiritual is superior to the physical, period. It is moral to execute murderers, seditionists, traitors, etc. Heresy murders the soul and constitutes sedition and treason against God. If it is moral to execute those who undermine the state, a temporal entity, it is moral to execute those who undermine the Church, a spiritual entity. That was the reasoning behind the Inquisition and the execution of heretics. It was not a Machiavellian system in which innocent lives were deemed “expendable” for a greater good. Rather, these people were deemed guilty of capital offenses.
“I just don’t trust myself with permission to say that lives are expendable.”
No one here said that lives were expendable. We are claiming that the person who refuses to trample on the cross is not responsible for the deaths of the people in question. They are still murder victims, but of the persecutors. If we said their lives were “expendable,” we would not view their deaths as murder.
“It is in just the same way that love of neighbour and perfect charity for God are not at odds.”
But you would not be committing a sin against love of neighbor by refusing to trample a cross, even if the persecutors killed people on account of your choice. As Father noted, you would not be responsible for any harm done to them, so you would not be failing to love them.
You are aware that you can actually have supernatural charity for a person at the same time you are killing them, right? The cop who shoots a hostile bank robber, or the soldier who kills an opponenent in a just war, or the executioner in a death chamber, or the father of a family who shoots a violent housebreaker may all have deep and true supernatural charity at the same moment they are killing someone. In the hypothetical situation here, the person who refuses to trample on a cross is not even responsible for another’s death. I don’t see how he is failing in charity for his neighbor. So he is bound to honor Christ by not trampliing on the cross.
JK wrote:
“Fr. Scott Baily, are you saying that threat of death never constitutes a mitigating factor or only in the case of apostacy? Neither of these positions makes much sense to me. Perhaps I am misunderstanding.”
I am saying exactly that. And there is an error in the last line of my last post. It should read: So THREAT of death is not considered something that takes away the will’s freedom to act.
The threat of death never constitutes a mitigating factor. However the fear brought about by the threat of death does. They are two different things. The threat of death might be the cause of fear, but it is fear which takes away our freedom to act. A robber has a gun to my head. I am threatened with death. Because of the threat I am overtaken by fear. Fear, like all strong emotions, clouds my ability to reason and choose how to respond in a situation. So, rather than acting based on what I know to be true (threat, moral law, divine law, life circumstances, etc.) I react based on fear. It is similar to a young couple who meet and fall madly in love and decide to immediately get married. They are reacting to their feelings. The Church generally requires a period of waiting because given the strength of their emotion and feelings they are unable to contract a valid marriage. Their feelings do not allow them to make the free rational choice of one for the other for life that is the heart of the marriage contract. Love is a choice freely made. Being in love is a feeling, at times a very strong feeling over which, just like fear, we have no control.
It’s emotions and feelings that mitigate freedom
Tobias Petrus wrote: “But you would not be committing a sin against love of neighbor by refusing to trample a cross, even if the persecutors killed people on account of your choice. As Father noted, you would not be responsible for any harm done to them, so you would not be failing to love them.”
But I would believe myself to be committing such a sin and I would feel responsible for the harm. No matter what intellectual arguments are made, I could not live with myself having people tortured when I could have prevented it. I could live with trampling on the cross. This may be a sign that my conscience is improperly formed; I would, nevertheless, violate my conscience if I acted as you recommend.
When you say that it is moral to execute people for various types of offenses, that may be true. But it is not moral for me to perform such executions. I do not have the wisdom or authority to make decisions about who should die. I must act whenever possible to preserve life.
Fr. Scott Baily, thank you for clarifying the distinction you were making.
JK, you bring up something very important. It’s easy to discuss this in the abstract. We know that it is highly unlikely that we will ever be put into any of the positions we have discussed in this thread. Either they are very unlikely or their ocurrance is so rare they hardly merit a thought to most people. Were I ever in the position of the missionary I don’t know if I too could live with myself knowing that people were tortured and killed because I would not trample a cross. Yes, I would know I had done the right thing, but would that be enough? God help me, but I just don’t think so.
You are right, of course, Fr. Bailey, that we can’t know our own strength until we have actually been tested. Sometimes it’s good to keep pride in check by admitting as much. I still think, though, that we should steel ourselves for such possibilities by mentally affirming, “I would choose You, Lord. I would be faithful.” By so doing, I find I can sometimes integrate the choice into my character in a way that might, in a pinch, make me better able to follow through.
Of course, I’ve never been in the position of Endo’s priest, (nor am I likely to be.) But I find that a similar strategy sometimes works with other temptations… for example, temptations to lust. Throughout my youth I was taught about the dangers of lust, and I was aware that a time might come when I would be tempted to break with my traditional strictures against, for example, fornication. And I always promised myself, “But I won’t submit. I will not. That would be contrary to my character.”
Such a time did eventually come, and as I anticipated, a thousand rationalizations flitted through my mind (and unfortunately, these days, the justification, “almost everyone I know does this” is often true.) But I didn’t have to fall back on intellectual arguments, because there was a much stronger, almost visceral reaction: “this is wrong, and I would never be able to live with myself if I did this. An important part of my character would be destroyed through this sin.”
That was strong enough to work. I’ve known people who said of fornication, “Well, I think this is wrong, but we’ll see how I feel about it when an actual situation arises.” Terrible, terrible idea… I can tell you how you’ll feel about it then, and it’s not the sort of feeling that will help you make good decisions.
I don’t know from experience, but doesn’t it seem that martyrdom might be like that? If you say, “Well, I’ll see how it goes, can’t be sure yet how strong I am,” you will very likely submit to the fear when the occasion arises. If you tell yourself, not pridefully, but fervently, imploringly, hopefully: “I will make the right choice. I will be faithful, even to death, so help me God” you might just succeed in mastering the fear if such an occasion does arise. Your gut, not your head, will tell you what to do at that point.
And, with all that said, I did want to say a few more words to JK, if you’re still reading this thread. I know it’s very unlikely that any of us will ever be in such a dramatic situation as Endo portrays, but I think this is important nonetheless. Whether or not we’re ever actually called to act, virtue means being ready to act rightly whenever it should prove necessary. Now, you said, “I do not have the wisdom or authority to make decisions about who should die. I must act whenever possible to preserve life.”
It wasn’t completely clear to me whether the bit about lacking wisdom and authority was meant to refer only to the burning of heretics, or to Endo’s case as well. If you only mean that you don’t feel authorized to go around burning heretics on your own initiative, then fine. I’d call that wise. But if you’d extend the argument to Endo’s case, I think there may be some things you haven’t fully understood.
You’re right, of course, that we’re called to serve our neighbors, and to preserve life, and normally a commitment to helping others goes nicely hand-in-hand with a Christian life. Nonetheless, we are clearly told that life is not the most important thing, and there are times when Christ must be chosen above human life, whether our own or someone else’s. You may never have to make that choice, but if you can’t, your dispositions are disordered in a serious way. You can’t really love God above all things if you’re not willing to choose Him first.
It occurred to me today that a military analogy might help make this clear. Suppose you’re serving in the army, under a commander who you know to be intelligent, wise, brave and compassionate. You’re fighting for a cause you know to be important and just. Now, as a soldier, you’ll have a number of duties, and you’re basically expected to fulfill all of them, but you’re given to understand that some are more important than others. In cases of emergency, you’re permitted to let the lesser ones slide. So, for example, you’re supposed to keep your bunk neat, and you might on some particular evening have guard duty, or be expected to help with dinner or to do the laundry or some such chore. But if, on your way to your kitchen duties, you find a comrade wounded in a ditch, sorely in need of assistance, it’s okay to neglect the dirty dishes so you can help him to the hospital. You won’t be reprimanded once it becomes clear what you were doing.
But now suppose that your commander calls his men together and tells you all that he has an important mission for you. He warns you that some of you will almost certainly be killed as you try to execute your duties, but the objective is so vitally important that you are ordered to press on and not stop to help wounded comrades. You must complete the mission at all costs.
Do you doubt that there might be circumstances where a military commander needed to give those orders? Helping your fellow soldiers is normally quite compatible with your larger military objectives, but in a few cases, you need to be able to look beyond that, or you will seriously endanger the goals for which all of you are fighting. So suppose that you, as a solder, go to your commanding officer and say, “I’m sorry, but if I see a comrade go down, I won’t just be able to leave him there. I’ll have to abandon the offensive to help him to safety. It would weigh on my conscience if I left him behind. I must act whenever possible to preserve life, and I don’t have the authority to consign someone else to death.”
Your commander would be right to reply, “My authority is what counts here, and I’m telling you to complete the mission at all costs. Do you think you love these soldiers more than I do? And yet, I understand what must be done, and know that there are things worse for them than an honorable death. But as for you: if you insist on letting your feelings distract you from your mission, you are worthless to me as a soldier, and you cannot be trusted with military work of any importance.”
I imagine you’ve seen where this analogy is going. We are all soldiers, if we have been confirmed as Catholics. We are soldiers in the army of Jesus Christ. And we have standing orders, from the lips of our commander Himself, that we may not deny Him before men, no matter what the consequences. Do you think, when he said that, that He didn’t realize what it would cost for some members of His flock? Don’t you think He cares about them more than any of us ever could? He is the wisest and most compassionate of commanders, and He has given this to us as a part of our mission. If you resolve yourself to “preserve life” even in cases where Our Lord has given instructions to the contrary, you make it impossible to commit yourself to Him completely. And then you become as useless as the soldier who replied, “sorry, but those orders don’t feel good to me.” You aren’t willing to trust Him completely, and thus, you yourself are untrustworthy in doing His work.
I’m afraid this sounds harsher than I mean for it to sound, but it’s just difficult to get my point across in another way. But I do think it’s imperative for us all to grasp this point: there are things worse than death, and we must all be prepared to do what’s necessary for Christ’s sake, be that dying, or killing, or witnessing the deaths of others we could have saved. If people can understand why such sacrifices are sometimes necessary for human goals (as in war), we can surely resign ourselves to making equally large sacrifices for the sake of the Kingdom of Heaven.
The choice of military analogy was apt in that I did serve in the Canadian Forces Reserves in my youth, so I can relate to the example. However, it was less apt, in that I do not see a clear command that applies to the situation in question comparable to a command from a superior officer. I hope that I am willing to die or even let others die when I know that is the right thing to do. I have, however, not been convinced by the arguments here that allowing the others to be tortured is the right thing to do. While my determination of what is right may very well have been swayed by my feelings, it is nevertheless what I think is right.
By the way, I recently read an account of the martyrdom of St. Thomas More that stated that he was unsure of his ability to be faithful until death. This did not appear to affect his ultimate decision.
This is how I mentally prepare for martyrdom: I have acrophobia. When I am in a situation where I must face a height, I am as afraid as if I were facing death. I cope by telling myself that fighting back my fear is practice in case I must ever face death for Christ.
“Whosoever therefore shall confess me before men, him will I confess also before my Father which is in heaven. But whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven.”
To me, that seems like a pretty strong command. He doesn’t give an “out” clause, and the martyrs seem to have assumed that there wasn’t one. I suppose you might say that trampling the cross isn’t the same as denying Christ. I would disagree, but we needn’t argue that point, because you can just tweak the example to one where the Japanese are demanding that the priest verbally deny Christ in order that the prisoners be released.
That was Matthew 10:32, by the way.
Well said Clara. Your point about mental affirmation is of great importance. For St Alphonsus, one reason mental prayer is so necessary is because it does exactly that. Part of our morning meditation should always consist of a review of the day ahead and any instances where we might be tempted so we can be aware of them and also pray for the grace to overcome them.
As I read Clara’s latest comment, it came to me that one problem that exists in any exchange that includes killing is a strongly held presupposition based on a mistranslation of the 5th Commandment. Most, if not all, current translations of the Bible translate it as: thou shalt not kill. And even if they don’t, ask any Chirstian what the 5th commandment is and they will tell you “thou shalt not kill.” It is the basis for Biblical arguments against capital punishment and the just war theory. The only problem is that it is incorrect. It is a mistranslation. The correct translation is: Thou shalt not murder. The Bible does not forbid killing. God does not forbid killing. God forbids murder, the direct voluntary killing of the innocent. That puts many situations in a very differnt light. In any discussion of Catholic morality we must remember that the premise of moral theology is not “thou shalt not kill” but rather “thou shalt not murder.”
Though it might be extremely difficult because of our conditioning–and we have been very strongly conditioned–to leave the wounded soldier or let the Christian prisoners be tortured and killed, one cannot argue that it is morally wrong based on the 5th commandment. Arguments must alwyas be based on premises that are true. If not, the conclusions are absolutely fallacious. The same goes for understanding a conclusion. One must know the premises on which the conclusion is based.
(I feel myself ready to go off on a rant about the apalling state of education in the USA so I’m stopping now.)