Cuatro Smart

The Roman Catholic backlash to @gavinortlund and @WesleyLHuff has been instructive. Both men are irenic, careful, and respectful in how they address what they believe are errors in Roman Catholic doctrine. Yet both have drawn deeply personal attacks for their apologetic work. This raises an important question many Protestants are asking: why do thoughtful, respectful critiques of Roman Catholicism often provoke such a visceral response? The visceral reaction many Catholics have when Rome is challenged makes sense once we understand the Roman Catholic system. Rome is not merely one church among others in their theology. It is the visible institution possessing the fullness of the means of salvation, the sacramental economy, the authentic interpretation of Scripture and Tradition, and the Petrine office of universal authority. Therefore, to challenge Rome is not received as a mere doctrinal disagreement. Rather, it is received as an attack on the what they believe is the very structure by which Christ supposedly teaches, governs, absolves, and saves. In contrast, Protestants are less threatened by challenges to a particular church tradition because Protestantism, at its best, does not locate salvation in institutional submission. The Baptist does not need the Baptist church to be indefectible. The Presbyterian does not need every presbytery to be incapable of grave error. The Lutheran does not need Wittenberg to be the necessary center of visible unity. Protestants argue fiercely, but their assurance rests finally in Christ’s finished work received by faith, not in the claim that one visible hierarchy or institution uniquely dispenses the fullness of saving grace. That is the real issue: Rome’s authority claims make historical criticism an existential threat. Protestantism can admit that church history is messy because the visible Church is always in need of reform. Protestants can also recognize ambiguity in the historical record and draw reasoned conclusions that differ from others without collapsing the faith. Rome cannot do this so easily. If too much historical complexity is admitted, Rome’s claim to be the indefectible guardian and interpreter of the apostolic deposit begins to weaken. History must produce clear answers because Rome must show that she has always taught what she now requires believers to confess—whether baptismal regeneration, Eucharistic transubstantiation, or papal supremacy. If the historical record shows change, ambiguity, contradiction, or later accretion rather than apostolic continuity, the entire sacerdotal system is threatened. So when a Roman Catholic lashes out at a protestant theologian or historian who is making an argument that runs counter to the approved narrative, the issue is often deeper than the topic being debated. The Protestant is arguing about history or doctrine. The Catholic may feel that their whole edifice of certainty, grace, authority, and salvation is being pulled down. And in a sense, the Catholic is right to feel critical importance of the stakes. If Rome is wrong about herself, then she is not merely wrong about secondary matters. She is wrong about the very place she has assigned herself between Christ and the believer.