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𝐕𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈𝐈 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫-𝐝𝐨𝐠𝐦𝐚: 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘔𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘶𝘮

Church-Tradition-Magisterium🧵

"The great fiftieth anniversary celebration has begun. There's no loud drumming yet, but you can feel it in the air. The fiftieth anniversary of Vatican II will unleash as many superlative expressions of praise as possible.

Of the sobriety that was requested as an attitude, and as a moment for reflection and analysis for a more critically in-depth assessment of the conciliar event, there isn’t even a trace.

We are already proceeding without restraint, saying and repeating what has been said and repeated for fifty years: Vatican II is the culmination of Tradition and its very synthesis. International conferences on the greatest and most significant of all ecumenical councils

are already scheduled; others, of greater or lesser scope, will follow along the way. And the body of literature on the subject is growing day by day.

L’Osservatore Romano obviously plays its part, emphasizing, above all, the adherence owed to the Magisterium (2/12/2011, p. 6): Vatican II is an act of the Magisterium, therefore...

The reasoning provided is that every act of the Magisterium must be received by the pastors who, due to apostolic succession, speak with the charism of truth (DV 8), with the authority of Christ (LG 25), and in the light of the Holy Spirit (ibid.).

Leaving aside the issue of proving the Magisterium of Vatican II with Vatican II, which was once called 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘪𝘪 (circular reasoning), it seems evident that such an approach starts from the premise that the Magisterium is absolute,

an independent entity separate from everything and everyone except apostolic succession and the assistance of the Holy Spirit.

Now, while apostolic succession guarantees the legitimacy of holy ordination, it is difficult to determine who guarantees the intervention of the Holy Spirit, in the terms being discussed here.

One thing, however, is beyond question: nothing in this world, which is the receptacle of created things, possesses the quality of the absolute. Everything is in motion, in a cycle of mutual interdependencies, and therefore everything depends on something else,

everything has a beginning and will have an end. “They are changed,” as the great St. Augustine said, “therefore they are created.” The Church is no exception, nor is its Tradition, nor its Magisterium.

These are sublime realities, at the top of the hierarchy of all created values, possessing qualities that give one vertigo, but they are still penultimate realities. The 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘯, the ultimate reality, is only God.

It is often expressed in a language that overturns this fact, granting these sublime realities a scope and significance beyond and above their limits; that is, they are absolutized. The consequence is that they are deprived of their ontic status,becoming an unreal presupposition,

thereby losing the sublime greatness of their penultimate reality.

Immersed in the Trinitarian moment of its conception, the Church exists and operates in time as a sacrament of salvation.

The theandrism, which makes it a mystical continuation of Christ, is beyond dispute, as are its constitutive properties (unity, holiness, catholicity, and apostolicity) and also its structure and its service.

But all of this remains within a reality of this world, empowered to sacramentally mediate the divine presence, yet always as and within a reality of this world, which, by definition, therefore, shuns the absolute.

This is why it identifies with its Tradition, from which it draws continuity with itself, to which it owes its vital breath, and from which it derives the certainty that its past is always becoming its present, preparing for its future.

Therefore, Tradition gives it the inner movement that propels it toward the future, safeguarding its present and past. But even Tradition is not an absolute: it began with the Church and will end with it. Only God remains.

The Church exercises real control over Tradition: a discernment that distinguishes the authentic from the inauthentic. It does this with an instrument that does not lack the “charism of truth,”

𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞.

This instrument is the Magisterium, whose holders are the Pope, as the successor of the first Pope, the Apostle St. Peter, on the Roman chair, and the bishops as successors of the Twelve in ministry or service to the Church, wherever it has a local expression.

Reviewing the distinctions within the Magisterium—solemn, if it is that of an ecumenical council or the Pope when either defines truths of faith and morals;

ordinary, if it is that of the Pope in his specific activity, and of the bishops collectively and in communion with the Pope—would be redundant; far more important is to clarify the limits within which the Magisterium is guaranteed “the charism of truth.”

It must be said first of all that the Magisterium is not a super-church imposing judgments and behaviors upon the Church itself, nor a privileged caste above the people of God, a kind of strong authority to which obedience is owed and nothing more. It is a service, a diakonia.

But it is also a task to be performed, a 𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘶𝘴, specifically the 𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪, which can neither overlap with nor stand above the Church, from which and for which it originates and operates.

From a subjective point of view, it coincides with the teaching Church, the Pope, and bishops united with the Pope, in function of the official proposal of the Faith. From an operational point of view, it is the instrument through which that function is carried out.

Too often, however, the instrument is given a value of its own, and it is invoked to quash any discussion from the outset,

as if it were above the Church and as if it were not accountable to the vast body of Tradition that it must receive, interpret, and retransmit in its integrity and fidelity.

And it is here that the limits become apparent, protecting it from the risk of hypertrophy and from absolutist temptation.

It is unnecessary to dwell on the first of these limits, apostolic succession. It should not be difficult for anyone to prove, case by case, its legitimacy and the consequent succession in possession of the apostles' own charism.

However, a few words are needed about the second, the assistance of the Holy Spirit. The hasty procedure in use today is something like this:

Christ promised the Apostles, and therefore their successors—that is, the teaching Church—the coming of the Holy Spirit and his assistance in exercising the 𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪 in truth; thus, error is ruled out from the start.

Yes, Christ did make such a promise, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.

Nevertheless, the way in which people appeal to the promise reveals a serious misinterpretation: either the words of Christ are not reported, or when they are cited, they are not given their true meaning. Let’s clarify this issue.

The promise is mainly reported in two texts from the fourth Evangelist: John 14:16.26 and 16:13-14. In the first, one of the said limits resonates with extreme clarity:

Jesus does not stop at promising “the Spirit of truth”—note the emphasis due to the specific article the, which continues to be translated as “of,” as if truth were an optional feature of the Holy Spirit, who instead personifies it—

but he also announces its function: it will bring to memory everything that He, Jesus, previously taught. Therefore, it is an assistance in conserving revealed truth, not an integration into it of other or different truths, or presumed truths.

The second of the two Johannine texts, confirming the first, adds further details: the Holy Spirit “will guide you to all truth,” including that which Jesus now remains silent on, as it is beyond the understanding of His disciples (16:12).

In doing so, the Spirit “will not speak on his own but will say all that he hears... he will take what is mine and declare it to you.” Thus, there will be no further revelations. The one revelation closes with those to whom Jesus is now speaking.

His words bear a single meaning, concerning the teaching He imparted, and only that teaching. It is a language that is neither cryptic nor encoded but as clear as day.

One might raise an objection on the apparent novelty in what Jesus now keeps silent on and what the Holy Spirit will later announce.

But the limitation of the Spirit's assistance to guiding the possession of all truth revealed by Christ excludes substantial novelties.

If new things emerge, they will be new meanings, not new truths, hence the very appropriate “𝘦𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘮 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘶 𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘢” of St. Vincent of Lérins.

In short, the pretense of linking the assistance of the Holy Spirit to every stirring of a leaf, I mean every novelty, especially those that conform the Church to the prevailing culture and the so-called dignity of the human person,

not only is a structural inversion of the Church itself, but it is also a blatant disregard for the two aforementioned texts.

Moreover, the limit of magisterial intervention lies also in its own technical formulation. To truly be magisterial, in a definitional sense or otherwise, the intervention must employ a consecrated formula from which there is no doubt about the intention to speak

as “Pastor and Teacher of all Christians in matters of Faith and Morals, by virtue of his apostolic authority,” if it is the Pope speaking; or, with equal certainty, for example, from an ecumenical council, using the usual formulas of dogmatic assertion,

the intention of the council fathers to link the Christian Faith with divine Revelation and its uninterrupted transmission. Without these prerequisites, we can only speak of the Magisterium in a broad sense:

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐩𝐞, 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧, 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐦; 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐬,

many of these councils either did not address dogma or did so only partially; sometimes they even incorporated dogma into a context of internal disputes and personal or factional conflicts, rendering any magisterial claim in such a context questionable.

An ecumenical council of undeniable dogmatic-christological significance, such as Chalcedon, still leaves a distinctly negative impression for having spent much of its time embroiled in a shameful clash of personalities, rivalries, depositions, and rehabilitations;

it is not in these aspects that Chalcedon is considered dogma. Likewise, when the Pope privately states that "Paul did not conceive of the Church as an institution or an organization, but as a living organism in which everyone works for and with each other, united by Christ,"

𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭.

We know that the earliest institutional structure was designed by Paul in a hierarchical manner to support the living organism:

the apostle at the top, followed by episcopoi-presbuteroi, hgoumenoi, proistamenoi, nouqetounteV, and diakonoi. These were distinctions of roles and offices, not yet fully defined, but already indicative of an institutionalized organism.

Even in this case, it should be clear that the Christian's attitude is one of respect and, at least in principle, adherence. However, if a believer’s conscience does not allow adherence in a case like the one described, this does not imply rebellion against the Pope

or denial of his Magisterium; it simply means that this particular statement does not qualify as Magisterium.

The discussion now returns, in closing, to Vatican II, aiming to make a final statement on its relationship to Tradition and its magisterial quality.

On this point, there is no question, and those laudators who have, for fifty years, tirelessly asserted the magisterial identity of Vatican II only waste their own time and that of others: no one denies it.

However, given their uncritical exuberance, a question of quality arises: what kind of Magisterium are we dealing with? The article in L’Osservatore Romano that I initially referenced describes it as doctrinal Magisterium: and who has ever denied that?

Even a purely pastoral statement can be doctrinal in the sense of belonging to a particular doctrine. However, anyone who claims that it is doctrinal in the dogmatic sense would be mistaken: no new dogma emerged from Vatican II;

if it has any dogmatic value, it is only by association with previously defined dogmas. It is, in essence, as has been repeatedly emphasized for all who have ears to hear, a solemn and supreme Magisterium.

Its continuity with Tradition is more problematic, not because the council did not declare such continuity, but because, particularly on certain key points where such continuity was essential, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧.

Monsignor Brunero Gherardini, Prof. Emeritus (Pont. Univ. Lat.), canon of the Vatican Basilica and director of Divinitas. [Source: Disputationes Theologicae, December 7, 2011]

Original text in italian: disputationes-theologicae.blogspot.com/2011/12/mons-g…

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