Saint Thomas & Scholasticism, a Legacy of Orthodox Christianity

Underneath the glow of candles lit before icons of the Pantokrator and the Theotokos and the sweet scent of incense a current runs in Greek Christianity that says "We have never changed or thought about anything, ever." One deacon told a very confused congregation "We don't write things down, we just do what the people before us did," a remark which only further befuddled the befuddled. Any contrast with Latin Christianity draws buzz words like "legalism", "Aristotle", "juridical", "original", "mystical", "pastoral", and "the Fathers". What the faithful do not often hear is that Scholasticism and the forces behind it are as much or more integral to Orthodox Christianity than the writings of St. Symeon the New Theologian or Palamas.

A "Scholastic" is a "school man", a variation of the word schola, school in Latin. Schools were not centers of textbook reading, flag saluting, and learning how not to offend men in dresses in prior ages. A schola, East and West, was a center of instruction through dialogue and disputation, a system of purely Greek invention, one founded on Socrates' smart aleck ways and more coherently developed in the Dialogues of his student, Plato. Dialogue proved a useful oral tool in directing conversation to concentrate on crystallizing certain points of inquiry, in finding the finer points of a thing; similarly, dialogue was a useful written tool in answering objections as a point developed and in keeping the reader's interest rather than lugubriously lecturing him like a hipster, post-modern bore. Even when Plato waned in popularity his teaching methods remained in vogue in Orthodox and Latin culture until the end of the Middle Ages.

For as much grief as modern Orthodox writers give Augustine for his reliance on Plato and the Doctor Angelicus for his extensive use of Aristotle, Greek Christian history is plentiful with more notable example of applying the language of popular philosophy to contemporary theology and binding it upon future generations. The definition of a matter of theology in the language of philosophy is not a wholesale baptism of whatever that particular Greek said, merely that certain concepts were found useful to explain a certain elements of Christian truth for all time. In defense of ICEL's caterwauling over the translation of "consubstantial" in the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed, the idea of substance very much belongs to Greek philosophy and not to any familiar thought in the last few centuries. Far from excusing our ignorance of "substance"—or prosopon in the case of Trinitarian theology—the Church is obligated to teach us about God using these very fitting terms. 

Similarly, the "legalistic" and exacting approach of Aquinas and the Schoolmen survives today only in courtrooms, yet for centuries was the acceptable means of settling a matter. When Leo III, Leo V, and Michael III stripped the holy images from the churches of Constantinople and rendered the Hagia Sophia as barren and dull as a Dallas church, Saint John of Damascus did not throw up his hands in objection and exclaim "We've always venerated icons! But why is a mystery, so let us do it and not discuss it!" In his third treatise against the iconoclasts, John taxonomizes numerous levels of veneration and their related sub-types:

1. Veneration due to God, of which there are
1. Worship
2. Wonderment
3. Gratitude
4. Petition
5. Repentance
1. Repentance out of love
2. Repentance out of fear for loss of love
3. Repentance out of fear for punishment
2. Veneration of persons or things through which God has worked
3. Veneration due to things dedicated to God
4. Veneration of types of God
5. Veneration of God in other human beings
6. Veneration of authority that comes from God
7. Veneration of benefactors

In a like manner, Saint John examines specific ways in which something can be an image:

1. A natural image, like God the Son is an image of God the Father
2. A prophetic image of what is to come
3. An imitation
4. A Scriptural type
5. A type of an event
6. A memory

After a resurgence of iconoclasm in his own time, Saint Theodore the Studite got in touch with his inner-Plato and wrote a lengthy dialogue pitting the "Orthodox" against the hopeless "Heretic". Contemporaries would have read the names as the "True Worshiper" and "The One Who Chooses". Like the ancient Greeks Theodore uses his protagonist to propose his doctrine and the counterpart to present objections as each brick of teaching builds a wall of belief. 

During the same era the Roman Church produced relatively few notable theologians and no worthwhile movements of thought. Perhaps more genuinely in line with what modern would-be Hesychasts present Greek Christianity to be, the Romans did little else than what was given to them because much of their intellectual inheritance had been lost in the years following the collapse of the Western Roman Empire. The odd notable writer like Saint Gregory the Great or Saint Bede the Venerable relied heavily on Scripture for his terms and monasticism for his outlook.

"Do you like the Pope?"
"No."
"Great! You're in charge."

Amid disputes from the Greeks against the Spanish introduction of the Filioque and the "Azymites", as well as from Latins against the deteriorating relationship with the papacy, a renewed interest in theology emerged during Palaiologan Byzantium that did not preclude the Schoolmen. If anything the introduction of Saint Thomas Aquinas' writings shocked the Greek intellectual world. The Summa was probably first translated from Latin to Greek by Maximus Planudes in the early 14th century and quickly gained a following. Opinions of Aquinas and the established Latin theological traditions of Scholasticism and Scotism enjoyed a popularity irrespective of one's opinion of the Filioque, unleavened bread, and the pope. "As a star of the West, [Saint Thomas] illumined the Church of Christ" in the words of hymnographer Janus Plousiadenos (thanks, Marko!). Basilios Bessarion may not have been an outright Thomist, but Scholasticism certainly influenced his speculative theology. Among opponents of Rome, Mark of Ephesus (accomplished in many things and remembered only for giving Rome the middle finger on the eve of Byzantium's fall) criticized Aquinas' rejection of the Immaculate Conception from Scotistic grounds. 

Gennadius Scholarius recanted of his Scholasticism after leaving the Council of Florence without voting on any propositions to lead the separatist party back home. Yet, before Florence he sang Aquinas' praises:

"Would O excellent Thomas that you had not been born in the West. Then you would not have needed to defend the deviations of the Church there.... You would have been as perfect in theology as you are in ethics."

According to Hugh Barbour O. Praem, Palamite emperor John VI took an interest in Thomas and patronized Demetrios Kydones' translation of the Summa contra gentiles. Two other opponents of the Florentine Union quoted Aquinas' arguments for the Incarnation and consecrated virginity word for word and without attribution; these two opponents, Makarios Makres and Joseph Bryennios, were cited as examples of fidelity to Orthodox tradition in a letter of Athonites monks against the ecumenism of the Greek patriarch.

Why were Palaiologan Orthodox so fond of Saint Thomas when their descendants today are not? It seems likely that, aside from where Thomas "needed to defend the deviations" of Rome, the Greeks perceived him as one of the highest expressions of their own approach to theology, to argument, and to reasoning. There was no antithetical relationship between reason and mysticism, between logic and tradition; there was only truth and falsehood, and Aquinas enunciated the former more eloquently and with greater edification than any other writer centuries forward or backward, East or West; his imitators were less successful.

A separate Scholastic tradition would develop in Russia, firmly separated from Rome and independent of Constantinople after the events of 1453. Russia lacked an indigenous theological tradition, relying instead on sparsely available translations of Greek writers. There was a need for stability in both church and state which the Scholastic method supplied. Today some writers consider these centuries as the "Western Captivity of Orthodoxy."

Now that we have seen Greek Christianity's well rooted similarities to Latin Scholasticism and their amenable history with Saint Thomas, the question remains why Aquinas has fallen out of favor and into disrepute with Orthodox theologians. The answer is simple: because Orthodox Christianity, not unlike modern Roman Catholic theology, is under the intellectual domain of a small clique of thinkers who do not represent their tradition in its entirety. I will close with a quote from Patrick Reardon, a priest of the Antiochian Orthodox Church:

“What almost always passes for ‘Orthodox theology’ among English-speaking Orthodox these days is actually just a branch of the larger Orthodox picture. Indeed, it tends sometimes to be rather sectarian.

"The Orthodox Church is an ancient castle, as it were, of which only two or three rooms have been much in use since about 1920. These two or three rooms were furnished by the Russian émigrés in Paris between the two World Wars. This furniture is heavily neo-Palamite and anti-Scholastic. It relies heavily on the Cappadocians, Maximus, and Gregory Palamas (who are good folks, or course). Anything that does not fit comfortably into that model is dismissed as “Western” and even non-Orthodox.

"Consequently, one will look in vain in that theology for any significant contribution from the Alexandrians, chiefly Cyril, and that major Antiochian, Chrysostom. When these are quoted, it is usually some incidental point on which they can afford to be quoted.

"Now I submit that any ‘Orthodox’ theology that has so little use for the two major figures from Antioch and Alexandria is giving something less than the whole picture.

"Likewise, this popular neo-Palamite brand of Orthodoxy, though it quotes Damascene when it is convenient, never really engages Damascene’’s manifestly ‘Scholastic’ approach to theology.

"Much less does it have any use for the other early Scholastic theologians, such as Theodore the Studite and Euthymus Zygabenus. There is no recognition that Scholasticism was born in the East, not the West, and that only the rise of the Turk kept it from flourishing in the East.

"There is also no explicit recognition that the defining pattern of Orthodox Christology was formulated in the West before Chalcedon. Pope Leo’s distinctions are already very clear in Augustine decades before Chalcedon. Yet, Orthodox treatises on the history of Christology regularly ignore Augustine. 

"Augustine tends to be classified as a ‘Scholastic,’ which he most certainly was not.
But Western and Scholastic are bad words with these folks.

"In fact, however, Augustine and the Scholastics represent only other rooms in the larger castle.

"For this reason I urge you, as you can, to read in the Orthodox sources that tend to get skipped in what currently passes for ‘Orthodoxy.’ For my part, I believe the Russian émigré theology from Paris, which seems profoundly reactionary and anti-Western, is an inadequate instrument for the evangelization of this country and the world. I say this while gladly recognizing my own debt to Russian émigré theology.”

The Legacy of Benediktuskirche

The recently published book-length interview with the Pope Emeritus, Last Testament: In His Own Words, goes far beyond the opening discussion about his resignation and retirement, also recapitulating the childhood, youth, and unexpectedly dramatic ecclesiastical career of Joseph Ratzinger. Some items from his memoirs and earlier interviews are revisited and clarified, and some controversies—like his falling out with the heretic Hans Küng—are discussed at length. Most interesting is the P. Emeritus’s continued identification as a theological progressive, and his belief that being such was always the right choice.

I do not intend to review the book as a whole, but I will share a few interesting selections from Ratzinger’s final interview. We need to be reminded, I think, of how little of a friend he was and is to the various traditionalist movements in the Church.

After the war, Ratzinger began his studies in Freising with his brother Georg, at a school that had been founded with a monastery by St. Corbinian in AD 716. He speaks of a retreat led there by a certain Professor Angermair:

He was a fresh, new thinker who particularly wanted to take us out of the cramped piety of the nineteenth century, and into the open. You sensed the new mood, and it was a breakthrough for me, so to speak. Accordingly, your curiosity then grows while you’re in university, even if everything wasn’t quite so convincing there. (Ch. 6)

This sense of moving out of a cramped spirituality and theology was a prominent aspect of the 20^th-century Modernists and quasi-Modernists, although in many respects their accusations were true. There was a kind of tunnel vision when it came to theology and spiritual formation, especially as it was disseminated to the laity, and this sense of unjust confinement led contemporary thinkers to be careless when breaking off their shackles.

The topic comes up again when Seewald asks Ratzinger why he has seldom addressed the topic of Hitler and the Third Reich:

Well, the eyes are always looking to the future. And it was not specifically my topic. We had the experience within us, but to reflect further on it historically or philosophically was something I never saw as my task. For me the important thing was to conceive the vision for tomorrow. Where are we today? How will things proceed with the Church? How will things proceed in society? (Ch. 6)

From there the questions proceed deeper into his theological vision, and it is worthwhile to quote him at some length:

Well, I didn’t want to operate only in a stagnant and closed philosophy, but in a philosophy understood as a question—what is man, really?—and particularly to enter into the new, contemporary philosophy. In this sense I was modern and critical…. [I] didn’t simply want to learn and take on a closed system, I also wanted to understand the theological thinkers of the Middle Ages and modernity anew, and to proceed from this. This is where personalism, which was in the air at that time, particularly struck me, and seemed to be the right starting point of both philosophical and theological thought….

We were forward-thinking. We wanted to renew theology from the ground up, and thereby form the Church in newness and vitality. In this respect we were lucky that we lived in a time in which both the youth and liturgical movements had opened up new horizons, new paths. Here we wanted to press forward with the Church, so that, in precisely this way, she would be young again. At that time we all had a certain contempt for the nineteenth century; it was fashionable then. So neo-Gothic and those rather kitschy figures of saints, the narrow, somewhat kitsch piety and over-sentimentality—we wanted to overcome all that. We wanted a new era of piety, which formed itself from the liturgy, its sobriety and its greatness, which drew on the original sources—and was new and contemporary precisely because of this….

As mentioned already, I wanted out of classical Thomism, and Augustine was a helper and guide with this. In this connection it was worthwhile entering into a living conversation with contemporary philosophy. But I’ve certainly never been an existentialist….

I thought: we are young people, we have a point of entry. From this certainty that we are able to build the world anew, I was fearless before great things…. The personal struggle which Augustine expresses really spoke to me. Thomas’s writings were textbooks, by and large, and impersonal somehow….

It [the “Munich School”] was defined by the fact that it was completely biblically oriented, working from Holy Scripture, the Fathers and the liturgy, and it was very ecumenical. The Thomistic-philosophical dimension was missing; maybe that was its real benefit. (Ch. 6)

Neither I nor His Traddiness are great defenders of the Thomistic school, but the hubris of thinking that one can discard what had been a long-proven instructional tool for basic theology and exchange it for something which the beginners themselves were building from the ground up, is obvious. The theological legacy of Thomas of Aquino is no more disposable than the Fathers and Scriptures that the amatores aggiornamento supposedly respected. It is probably true that Thomism was in need of serious reform and correction, but the Summa has always been effective in its original intended use, as a beginner’s guide to theology. That is not something to be lightly dismantled.

(As a sidenote, it is interesting that at the end of this chapter, Ratzinger discusses the novels of Hermann Hesse, especially The Glass Bead Game, which ends with a spiritual-intellectual leader deciding to lay down his responsibilities and retire into a more humble life. I noted the similarities between the action of the novel and the P. Emeritus’s actions in a post last year.)

His thoughts continue as he hikes over the mountains and valleys of memory through his higher education:

In Munich we had of course grown up with a modern philosophy. Certain professors had taken us to pastures new and opened them up for us. I had taken this mood on internally, and tried to perpetuate it according to the possibilities at my disposal….

Only later was there separation between those who rejected the Magisterium and went their own way, and those who said that theology can only be done within the Church. [Meaning the supposedly divergent paths of the progressive school. -J] Then, everyone was still aware that theology obviously has its own freedom and task, that it cannot be completely servile to the Magisterium, but we also knew that theology without the Church would be theology in name only, and would no longer have any meaning. I was considered someone who is young, who opens new doors, treads new paths, so then persons who were just plain critical came to me. (Ch. 7)

He reflects later on many aspects of his experience during the recent Council:

During the period of the Council in Rome, did you sometimes stop for a couple of drinks with someone along the way?

Not as a pair, no, but as part of a small group. Especially in the theological commission. Then we often drank plentifully in Trastevere.

Plentifully?

[The Pope laughs loudly.]…

Which theologians do you actually appreciate the most?

I would still say Lubac and Balthasar….

Which camp did you belong to at that time: the progressives?

Yes, indeed, I would say so. At that time progressive did not mean that you were breaking out of the faith, but that you wanted to understand it better, and more accurately, how it lives from its origins. I was of the opinion then that that was what we all wanted….

You were charged with that [freemasonry]?

[Laughs] Yes, yes, although I really shouldn’t be held in suspicion of being a freemason…. 

Was it a mistake to convoke the Council at all?

No, it was right for sure. One can ask whether it was necessary or not, OK. And from the outset there were people who were against it. But in itself it was a moment in the Church when you were simply waiting on something new, on a renewal, a renewal of the whole…. In that respect the time was simply nigh. (Ch. 8)

Presumptions of inaugurating a new dispensation in the Church was common among mid-20^th century theologians, especially the Germans. The “new wine” apparently flowed freely across the Tiber during the Council, the same place where Fr. Bouyer famously penned the corrected text of Eucharistic Prayer II on a napkin.

It was also in Trastevere, on an outdoor table at a small restaurant in 2004, where I talked at great length with another recent American convert well into the night about the many troubles in the Church. I had barely been Catholic a full year, and already I was growing sickened by the theological and moral disintegration that most of my fellow Catholics were happy to willfully ignore or excuse. It is sad to see that Joseph Ratzinger is still so full of his youthful naïveté that he defends every principle he followed, even while weakly condemning their usual consequences.

The penultimate chapter of the interview, “Shortcomings and Problems,” is a far cry from the example of Ratzinger’s hero St. Augustine, who wrote a series of Retractationes. In here, the P. Emeritus makes a long series of excuses, and casts blame for some events (especially the “Williamson affair”) on others. He claims also that the “gay lobby” problem had been entirely taken care of before his resignation.

In the concluding chapter, he ominously describes the historical import of his papacy:

Do you see yourself as the last Pope of an old era or the first Pope of a new era?

Between the times, I would say. 

As a bridge, a kind of connecting link between the two worlds? 

I don’t belong to the old world any more, but the new world isn’t really here yet.

The new world is still being constructed around us, with the neverending “year” of “mercy” and “humility.” We can only pray that its reforms will be stopped before they are irreversible.

Sts. Benedict and Joseph, pray for us!

Liturgy & Sacrament: Another Dialogue with the Maestro

Earlier the Maestro and I had a series of exchanges concerning the anaphora of Addai & Mari. Recently we discussed the relationship between the liturgy and the Sacraments, the proper place for each and the historic understanding of the Church in these matters. The Maestro brings a Scholastic perspective to the dialogue.

I am publishing this, with the Maestro's permission, because this is a discussion that needs to be had in public and not in private settings among people who already agree on everything. Readers, do feel free to chime in with comments on this one!

Maestro: A question along the lines of our discussions on liturgy and its relation to theology and revelation. The saying is "legem credendi lex statuat supplicandi" - the law of prayer determines the law of belief. My reading of Kavanagh did help me understand this saying a little better, although I still wonder the following things:

Are we saying that the liturgy determines what we must believe, i.e. the object of faith, or that the object is already there but that it is primarily in the act of liturgical worship that our act of belief is actuated, as it were? Kavanagh seemed to me to be explaining that the act of faith happens first and foremost in the act of worship, as a consequence thereof. The "faith" of which he speaks seems to be basically equivalent to the act or virtue of faith that is within the soul of the person who prays. This, in my mind, is to be distinguished from the faith, that is, the truths of faith themselves, or the object of faith. So what do we mean when we say the law of prayer determines the law of faith? That it determines, or constitutes, or builds the virtue of faith in us, or that it determines what is thetruth of faith?

The Rad Trad: If you, one Sunday morning 1980 years ago, saw a man who had been brutally executed a few days prior walking about, chatting with women and old friends, eating food, and passing through walls would you believe that he might be God because you figured out what he did or because you encountered him?

On Good Friday evening we had Jerusalem Mattins here (Mattins & Lauds of Holy Saturday sung late Friday night), the theme of which is the descent into Hades, the wait of Resurrection, and the resting in the tomb. There is a sepulchre set up in which a corpus is buried. The deacon explained to visitors that we believe these past events are renewed before our very eyes, that we visited Christ's tomb that night and that we await His Resurrection in time which is already in eternity. Now, does someone believe—Catholic or just Joe Off the Street—that he visited Christ's tomb because the Church worships that way or because he already believed it when he walked into the Church? Does the Church worship that way because she already believes in these events or does she believe because she maintains this in her worship?

My answer is simply "yes." To put these things in teleological opposition to each other misses the point and reduces the liturgy to some sort of play acting which culminates in the consecration and which might have didactic value. The liturgy is the Church's theology. The lex credendi is not so much what is believed as much as it is how and why it is believed, the sensus fidelium. In older times credo/credere meant "believe" in the way we mean it, but it also meant "ascent" because we ascent to God, we give ourselves to Him, which is vital to understanding the dialectic between revelation and faith which survives as a dialectic between liturgy and belief.

The resting in the tomb in obedience to the law, the descent into Hades and release of the dead, and the Resurrection are what the Church believes, but one must encounter these things to understand the how and the why of this belief.....

On that note, I cannot stand to bring non-Catholics to the Pauline Mass lest they get the impression that it represents Catholicism. Do you ever feel the same way? I had the interesting experience two years ago (and lost a neo-conservative friend over it) of going with some protestants to a Novus Ordo Easter Vigil wherein a mutual friend of ours was received into the Church. The next day we rented a car and went to the old rite for the Paschal Mass of the Resurrection. The reaction of the protestants could not have been more starkly in contrast to the previous night. Yes, they did not quite feel comfortable with the Litany of Saints and the literalism of the Communion rites, but the general lex orandi seemed almost un-obtrusive to their lex credendi. The Latin Mass the next day was dead against it and spoke far more to them about what, why, and how Catholics believe than any explanation I could have given.

When asking of God "Is it A or is it B?" the best answer is usually "Yes."

The Maestro: Alright, so my follow-up questions are these: 

Do we therefore say that the Pauline Mass or the Pian Holy Week is strictly speaking contrary to faith? I think you admitted to me once that it could be good if celebrated rightly. I just wonder how we can say this and maintain at the same time that such a change in the liturgy literally leads to a change in faith. Or do we even say this latter? Would it be right to say that, although what we must believe was not changed when the liturgy was changed, how we believe it, and perhaps even whywe believe it (this would need to be explained to me), was changed? Does that change amount to a loss of faith? Also, does the difference between the various rites of the Church affect how and whythe Catholics in those different rites believe? Why is variety in respect of these rites legitimate, but not so great variety in respect of changing the liturgy?

Finally, sort of on a tangent, by the account which you give of liturgy being the theology of the Church in which we encounter the actual mysteries of faith before our very eyes, I wonder how you would distinguish it from the seven sacraments. Or - and I have seen this objection made - is that enumeration a mere scholastic invention? The sacraments, by my understanding, are classically defined by the fact that they contain the actual graces which they signify. Their efficacy is ex opere operato. As such they are often distinguished from liturgy and other prayers and sacramentals, whose efficacy is ex opere operantis. The sacraments contain the actual mysteries they signify, whereas the others merely signify; their efficacy is accidental to themselves, and dependent on the disposition of those who pray. The Mass is the selfsame sacrifice of calvary, because the Eucharistis the body, blood, soul, and divinity of Christ; whereas, it would seem to be the convention to say that that the liturgy is not itself literally an encounter with the mysteries of which it speaks, but only brings them to mind. Obviously, you don't seem to consider the liturgy in quite this way - and I am strongly attracted to that idea of liturgy. But how would it account for the sacraments? 

 The Rad Trad: My how thou art inquisitive! In better times you would be an excellent candidate for a degree at the Angelicum and a stint in the Holy Office, possibly followed by a professorship and a fake (errrr "auxiliary") bishopric!

I, as a private individual, do not consider the Pauline liturgy, the Pius X Office, or the Pius XII unHoly Week necessarily contrary to the faith as much as I consider them removed from it, alienated and distanced like an estranged family member. The Pian Good Friday is gutted, irreverent, stupid, a-historical, politically correct and based on poor research, but its main sins are by omission. The problem with the Pauline liturgy is that one cannot really deduce how it ought be celebrated (if that is different from how it is normally celebrated) and what the intentions behind it were: you have Ratzinger's "continuity" line, you have the pseudo-historical researchers pretending to restore ancient liturgy like Braga, you have the ecumaniacs like Bea, and you have those obsessed with being "pastoral" like Bugnini. Who was right? Whose line best epitomizes the Pauline liturgy? It can be done well, but I am un-convinced that is the intended norm for it. The Church, in many decades, when this nonsense has passed or been replaced, will have to judge the matter. I am not giving answers. I am providing food for thought.

As far as changing the liturgy, it does not always mean changing the faith. Indeed it can augment the faith. At some point during the reign of Gregory the Great someone celebrated a Pre-Sanctified Mass, which became the Good Friday norm in the West and a weekday communion rite in Constantinople (next Lent go to one, it is amazing). It bridged the gap between the Mass and the Sacrifice on Good Friday. I think replacing it with a generic communion service (and that is exactly what Pius XII did, look at any hand Missal from the era that has a ritual for an extra Mass Communion ritual) was far more harmful that outright scrapping it. It sends confusing messages, whereas eliminating the service altogether would have been horrible, but sent no messages (other than that Pius XII and his Commission had little regard for the past).

Legitimate variation occurs when several expressions of one idea or fact of the faith are expressed according to local tradition. Continuing on the point of Good Friday, the Byzantine tradition has normal Vespers—during which the deacon sings the Passion—followed by a burial procession. It is the funeral of a King, a conqueror of death. It is the worship of His Passion. The Roman rite has that, but also the Pre-Sanctified Mass: On Yom Kippur proper Jewish people would bring animals to the Temple for sacrifice, the blood of which would "cover" their sins. The high priest would enter the Holy of Holies, sacrifice one goat and spread its blood on the Mercy Seat of the Ark of the Covenant while confessing the sins of the people, sending them into the other goat (the "scape goat") which would be set free. What did Christ do other than act as priest, sacrifice, and scape goat? What is the Mass other than the immemorializing of that sacrifice? This is why the Pre-Sanctified Mass was so important! It was priest and sacrifice without consecration (well, maybe). A simple Communion service misses the point from both angles!

Altering the liturgy does not immediately alter the faith, but, if done poorly and out of sync with what preceded it, it will alter how people believe and hence their faith.

As to your second set of questions, I am not sure this line of thinking can be found in the Fathers or really anyone prior to the Scholastics. Even then, Scholasticism's popularity was limited to central Italy, the Roman Curia, and the University of Paris until the creation of seminaries in the 17th century. I do not find the distinction helpful. The Church requires us to go to Communion once a year, but to go to Mass at least once a week, probably hoping we will go to Communion during the Mass. To separate liturgy and Sacrament is a bit strange. The Sacraments—all of them—are liturgical by nature and were once done publicly. As someone with a bit of a shameful past I am not too eager to return to public Confession, but is it not interesting that until 1961 the rite of expelling public sinners on Ash Wednesday and receiving them back into the Church on Mandy Thursday was still used? Why was it that in the 9th century an announcement was made at Papal Mass during the Offertory telling anyone who was not going to Communion to leave? Baptism is by its very nature a public Sacrament: a person is "plunged" into the Church, into the new creation; it is why Baptism was always done on great feasts, particularly ones to do with water (Pascha, Pentecost, and Epiphany come to mind). To put the Sacraments in a vacuum and then say their "efficacy" depends on personal disposition is to say that the Sacraments depend on private piety! But what disposition meant in the middle ages, when that line of thinking developed, was almost certainly liturgical! I remember reading a letter from the 11th or 12th century from an English bishop to his faithful reminding them that going to low Mass did not meet their Sunday obligation: Mattins, Lauds, high Mass, and Vespers were the obligation! And you can bet anyone going to Communion did a week of fasting prior to reception. It was all part of the lex orandi. This is the trouble with minimalism, with reducing and defining everything holy to its bear bones. As times and definitions change concepts become fungible and we, centuries later, read them wrongly. 

So with regards to your questions (or were they objections?) I say "I agree, those terms jut do not mean what people often think they mean!"

The Maestro: Continuing on the sacraments. Just one minor thing - I didn't mean to say that the sacraments' efficacy depend on disposition. The distinction is that the sacraments are efficacious of their own power - although certainly the disposition is involved in the end result - but prayer and sacramentals and the liturgy are efficacious only insofar as they are expressions of a holy disposition. 

Anyway, what then would you make of the Council of Trent: "If anyone says that the sacraments of the New Law were not all instituted by our Lord Jesus Christ, or that there are more or less than seven, namely, baptism, confirmation, Eucharist, penance, extreme unction, order and matrimony, or that any one of these seven is not truly and intrinsically a sacrament, let him be anathema."

Often that idea is connected to the divine institution of the sacraments, whereas liturgy - though certainly divine in a sense - is nonetheless said to have been instituted post-Christ or post-revelation. There is the doctrine that divine revelation - i.e. the revelation of the deposit of faith, that collection of the truths of faith - ended with the death of the last apostle, John. Part of that deposit, say the scholastics, is in the seven sacraments. Liturgy falls outside that deposit, strictly speaking. Because the sacraments are part of the deposit, having been directly instituted by Christ, their efficacy is straight from God; they produce their effects because God is working directly through them. Whereas anything outside that deposit is only efficacious insofar as it might be an expression of or an aid to piety in the soul men. The scholastics commonly classify this doctrine on the number of the sacraments and their divine institution as de fide - meaning it is heretical to deny. I am not sure of this; admittedly I am hoping there is some way to reconcile this with your idea. But again admittedly I am having a hard time seeing what it would be.

The Rad Trad: Concerning the Council of Trent, I agree with the canon entirely. The meat of the canon is that there are seven Sacraments (and not two as the protestants thought and not more as those who believed the coronation of a king to be a Sacrament thought). I will also say though that St Thomas did write famously Deus virtutem suam non alligavit sacramentis. We are bound to seven Sacraments where we know we can find God's grace. God is not bound and can do whatever He wishes (it was in the description when He took the job from all eternity).

Perhaps I am confusing your perception of what I am saying. I am not saying that the liturgy is a Sacrament or on par with Sacraments. I am saying that the liturgy is the proper place of Sacraments, that it exists for them and that to separate the two convolutes both apart from each other. What of the deposit of faith? Did the Church's liturgy not come into being as an expression of that deposit? As the place where people find that deposit? As the setting of those things Christ instituted? If the Sacraments can exist outside the liturgy why bother with the entire Mass? Why does the Church not simply do the consecration and place the Elements in the tabernacle? The liturgy may not be the deposit of faith, but neither is doctrine. Doctrine is an explanation of something, which I distinguish from non-negotiable dogma. I guess one could say Original Sin is not part of the deposit of faith then. It may not be in the "deposit" but it is part of Tradition, as much as the liturgy. 

As far as the notion of "efficacy," why do things other than the Sacraments only aid piety or provide expression? Again I return to the belief that the mysteries celebrated in the liturgy are not merely symbolic, but actually are revisited (the difference from a Sacrament being that grace is not directly and un-ambiguously conveyed). I would suggest, as a personal opinion open to correction, that an added benefit of receiving the Sacraments—Communion for example—in a liturgical setting is that it perfects and completes one's celebration of a divine feast or mystery by direct interaction with God through His grace. This Pascha began when the priest held out his candle and I took "light from the Light that is never overtaken by night and [glorified] the Christ, Who is risen from the dead," I walked about searching for Him with the myrrh bearing women, heard of his Resurrection at the Mattins Gospel, celebrated it at the Divine Liturgy, and culminated it by receiving Him directly in Holy Communion. Is not efficacy increased in such a setting, one hopes? There may not be a Scholastic term for this qualitative difference, but it is certainly something significant.

Again I repeat, when the Angelic Doctor wrote what he did and when the Council of Trent defined what it did, the congruity between liturgy and Sacrament was presumed. For reasons that are interesting and complicated, but not related to this discussion, the two drifted apart during the Counter-Reformation and a narrow, highly minimalistic and legalistic reading of Scholasticism developed. The conflict you perceive might be the result of reading the Scholastic literature on the subject as both complete and definitive. 

Allow me to introduce to you the first Scholastic. Low Mass supposedly originated in the 10th or 11th century when monks, out of devotion of their deceased brethren, sought to celebrate as many Requiem Masses as possible. I imagine one day, after the conventual Mass, one priest-monk popped on his vestments, took his chalice, bread, and book to the altar, and recited in 20 minutes everything that had been sung just moments earlier. Perhaps at the end of Mass the priest is greeted by a brother monk who came into the church for cleaning. Stupefied, the brother asks "You can do that!?" to which the priest replies "Oh yes! It valid and efficacious ex opere operato!" "Huh," says the brother, "I should tell Father Abbott, we could knock out two a day at that rate and that's twice as efficacious!"

I am irreverently tongue in cheek, but you see my point!

The Maestro: This reply does clear up a lot of things for me; thank you. So it is possible, in your account, to delineate between the Sacraments and liturgy in theory, although they are by nature meant to be connected. The liturgy is the proper setting of the Sacraments; and I suppose this is more than saying that it is merely an external aid to our devotion whilst participating in those Sacraments. 

On the distinction between ex opere operato and ex opere operantis, do you think it is a legitimate distinction in any sense? The Council of Trent, in the same session from which I earlier quote, appears to assume this distinction in another canon, wherein it states "If anyone says that by the sacraments of the New Law grace is not conferred ex opere operato, but that faith alone in the divine promise is sufficient to obtain grace, let him be anathema." You do admit that the distinction between sacraments and liturgy is that the latter does not so directly and unambiguously convey grace, while it does reenact the actual mysteries rather than merely symbolize them. Could we then still say, at the same time, that they confer grace ex opere operantis? In other words, that a right disposition and participation by faith in these mysteries is requisite for grace to be conferred at all? Whereas the sacraments confer grace by their own power, even if the end result involves disposition.

These concepts do seem important in determining what are the rules of liturgical development. I haven't read Laurence Paul Hemming's book yet, but in his preface of one of Dobszay's books he blames this distinction between the kinds of efficacy as part of the origin of the corrupt notion of liturgical development that is responsible for the recent reforms. Basically his argument seems to be that if the efficacy of liturgy is dependent on the disposition of the person or of the Church, then the person/Church is automatically granted a great deal of freedom to change the liturgy. I'm wondering, though, if this distinction can still be preserved in some sense, while also maintaining as you do that liturgy isn't mere symbolism but is primary theology, a re-presenting of the actual mysteries of faith; and that this is enough to define the limits of liturgical development, which have been transgressed in the last century. 

The Rad Trad: I think what you write in your second paragraph is more or less on the mark with what I think, albeit using a different set of terms. The Tridentine Canon is concerned with affirming that the Sacraments have grace in and of themselves, that private belief or worthiness does not determine whether or not one receives grace (although it does influence what that grace does, for instance Communion in mortal sin). I certainly admit a distinction between liturgy and Sacraments. I reject the idea of a separation of the two.

Do read Hemming!

 

Dialogue on Validity, Form, and Intention

Melkite Patriarch Maximos IV celebrates the Divine Liturgy at St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, 1954
source: P. Pfister, Pages de Rome Immortelle, Arthaud 1954, p. 155

The Rad Trad has been privileged to correspond with several of his readers—you know who you are—over the last year. Discussion usually beings with a question or an opinion about some liturgical matter. A recent series of exchanges between the Rad Trad and a reader was no different.

 

Enter the blogger "Maestro" of the page Foretaste of Wisdom, a site certainly worth a look. The Maestro is a Thomistic-minded Catholic and a student at Thomas Aquinas College. We recently exchanged thoughts on an article by Br. Ansgar Santogrossi, a professor at the FSSP seminary in Nebraska, concerning the Thomistic notion of "form" of the Consecration of the Eucharist and the implications for the validity (or invalidity) of the Addai & Mari rite used in the far east. The original article, which I cannot reproduce here owing to copyright, appeared in the Winter 2012 edition of Nova et Veterea should any readers wish to follow the discussion more closely. The Maestro has kindly given me permission to post some excerpts of our exchanges below. Readers may find the discussion and the historical/theological citations interesting. The exchange is given in chronological order. It is the sort of thing one can scroll through in search of a passage of particular interest rather than labor through the entire thing.

 

Thomists: please don't be too hard on me!

 

The Rad Trad: I have read the first third of the article and will finish it tomorrow with my fuller impressions. Thus far I think the author is trying very hard to fit his theological system (neo-Thomism) into texts written and prayed by people who did not believe that a particular set of words "did the deed" on their own. The quotations he adduces from Ss. Ambrose and Justin the Martyr do not really indicate that "This is my body" and "This is my blood" effect the consecration at all, just that they are the pretext for the celebration of the sacred mysteries and that it is by Christ's words that the change takes place. Perhaps the author will investigate the matter further, but the idea of "Christ's words" or "Word of God" has a very broad meaning and could (probably) means that it is Christ Who makes the change happen, rather than referring to a few specific sentences. Sure, some prayers were more important than others (which is the only reason low Mass can be permissible), but the concept of a particular set of words doing the Sacrament really does not find much evidence until the rise of the Latin Schoolmen (for all the good they did—and they did a lot—I've never been too keen on their Sacramental theology).

 

I hope the author goes into the texts of the Addai and Mari rite in some detail, as this would help him make or break his case.

The Rad Trad (fuller answer): I have finished the article and found it somewhat wanting. The author's premise is basically that everyone from Apostolic times knew that "This is my body" and "This is my blood" make the change happen, and that since the Addai and Mari rite does not (or no longer does) contain these words it does not successfully consecrate the bread and wine. Unfortunately he does not make a very conclusive case from the historical evidence.

As I said before he conflates the "Words of the Lord" with the institution narrative from St Paul used in every other celebration of the Eucharist. It gets especially bad when he begins calling the institution narrative the "words of consecration" as if it is and always has been a settled question, effectively making the rest of the article a circular argument. However in the Eastern Churches (Byzantine and otherwise) there is an emphasis on Christ doing what happens at the altar with the priest presiding in His physical stead. They do not have a concept of the priest in persona Christi, but rather say that the priest "serves" Christ's true priesthood. For instance in the Coptic liturgy (Catholics and Orthodox use it) the epiclesis is "He makes this [bread] His precious Body!" and the same is said of the chalice. Moreover words are spoken with air and breath. Perhaps you know that the Greek and Hebrew for Holy Spirit is actually "Holy Wind" or "Holy Breath?" It makes Christ's consecration a work of the Holy Spirit effected by Christ's intercession (which is why the Byzantines, for instance, insist that in their rite the consecration happens at the epiclesis). In none of the evidence proffered is it clear that the institution narrative is the consecration. 

Lastly, he assumes that the lack of an institution narrative is a relatively new omission in the Addai and Mari rite, which betrays a certain degree of historical ignorance. His best grounds is that according to one 18th century Roman account and a few 19th century Anglican accounts there was a narrative in variable places. However these accounts center on the Chaldean Catholic Church, which formed around that time as a far Eastern Church in communion with the Roman See. What he neglects to mention, or realize, is that most Eastern Churches that joined the Catholic communion at that time were forcibly Latinized and made to conform to Western theology and practices—a problem we have only just begun to solve in the Eastern Catholic Churches. Could the narrative not be a Latinization? The author constantly quotes that judgment from an older document that the absence of a narrative is a "grave abuse" but no where did it said the absence necessarily invalidated the Eucharist. He gets around this by equating it with the attempted ordination of women by some dodgy 5th century bishop who was promptly corrected.  

On the whole not very impressive. Even Aquinas admitted to some extent that his analysis was based on the Latin liturgy, which was the only liturgy he knew. This article absolutizes that analysis and tries to fit it into other Apostolic Churches' systems. Bad history, bad ecclesiology, bad theology. Your thoughts, sir?

The Maestro: Thanks for sharing your thoughts. I have a couple questions which are purely theological....

St. Thomas quotes St. Ambrose, also from the de sacramentis: "The consecration is accomplished by the words and expressions of the Lord Jesus. Because, by all the other words spoken, praise is rendered to God, prayer is put up for the people, for kings, and others; but when the time comes for perfecting the sacrament, the priest uses no longer his own words, but the words of Christ. Therefore, it is Christ's words that perfect this sacrament."

An alternate translation: "How can that which is bread be the body of Christ? By consecration. But in what words and in whose language is the consecration? Those of the Lord Jesus. For all the other things which are said in the earlier parts of the service are said by the priest—praises are offered to God, prayer is asked for the people, for kings, and the rest; when it comes to the consecration of the venerable sacrament, the priest no longer uses his own language, but he uses the language of Christ. Therefore, the word of Christ consecrates this sacrament."

I don't recall Br. Ansgar quoting this in his article, but this passage seems to me to more clearly emphasize the efficacy of the actual words spoken by the priest, in bringing about the consecration - that's the impression I get. Would your interpretation of this be more along the lines of a "spiritual" language or word, in line with your broader understanding of the "Word of Christ"?

Also, I'm sure you are aware of the Council of Florence on this matter: "The words of the Savior, by which He instituted this sacrament, are the form of this sacrament; for the priest speaking in the person of Christ effects this sacrament. For by the power of the very words the substance of the bread is changed into the body of Christ, and the substance of the wine into the blood; yet in such a way that Christ is contained entire under the species of bread, and entire under the species of wine."

Obviously, the term "form" is being borrowed here from St. Thomas and Aristotle. So according to your view, would this teaching apply, like that of St. Thomas, only to the Roman liturgy? 

The Rad Trad: I would say that the last sentence in those two translations displays quite a disparity. The latter indicates a broad possibility of meanings (a spiritual idea of the "Lord's word", the institution narrative, the entire anaphora after the preface etc). Even if it refers to the narrative that would put St Ambrose in Br Ansgar's camp, but does not make the case for any sort of consensus, even in the Latin Church, prior to the Middle Ages. The quotation he used from St John Chrysostom certainly has no where near the message he thinks it has (the narrative-as-consecration just is not part of the Byzantine tradition). 

Florence is obviously referencing St Thomas, but St Thomas's analysis really cannot go beyond the Latin rite (which uses the Roman Canon—except the rite of Milan, which uses a variation of it, and the Mozarabic rite of Toledo, a very odd liturgy). From a historical perspective it is clear to me in Summa pars III question 78.1 that there was a very wide array of views on the matter at the time, even within the Roman Church. And if we are to take Aquinas as far out of his Roman context as Br Ansgar does, must we not conclude that the Byzantine rite and the Novus Ordo Mass are invalid (pars III, article 78.3, answer before the reply) because they lack the words mysterium fidei, making for an imcomplete form? 

One last note about Florence: it was not a teaching council in the same way Nicea, Chalcedon, Lateran IV, Trent, or Vatican I were teaching councils. It was a disastrous attempt to re-unite the Latin and Greek Churches. The Byzantine emperor was desperate for political capital and soldiers to fight the Muslims on his doorstep and the Roman authorities saw an opportunity to force Roman theology, customs, and discipline upon a Greek Church which would give them anything. For example the famous Cantate Domino bull by Eugene IV was actually a thinly veiled letter to the Eastern Churches saying "Join me or go to hell;" ditto for Boniface VIII and Unam Sanctam. One must take time to learn about these councils and documents and how the Church historically uses them and receive them before applying them in theological and liturgical discussion. My impression is that the above passage from Florence was an attempt to Latinize the Greek Church's theology. 

I may be wrong though!

The Maestro: Looking again at the whole of the Ambrose quote, it seems to me that his emphasis on the priests words, which, he says, are also Christ's words, indicates something very like the words of institution. And to which quote from Chrysostom are you referring? Is this the one? "It is not man who causes what is present to become the Body and Blood of Christ, but Christ Himself Who was crucified for us. The priest is the representative when he pronounces those words, but the power and the grace are those of the Lord. “This is My Body,” [h]e says. This word changes the things that lie before us; and as that sentence “Increase and multiply,” once spoken, extends through all time and gives to our nature the power to reproduce itself; even so that saying “This is My Body,” once uttered, does at every altar in the Churches from that time to the present day, and even till Christ’s coming, make the sacrifice complete."

I'm curious, what do you take this passage to be saying, if not that the actual words of institution, repeated by Christ, bring about the change? I also found this from St. Athanasius: "You will see the Levites bringing the loaves and a cup of wine, and placing them on the table. So long as the prayers and invocations have not yet been made, it is mere bread and a mere cup. But when the great and wonderous prayers have been recited, then the bread becomes the body and the cup the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ....When the great prayers and holy supplications are sent up, the Word descends on the bread and the cup, and it becomes His body."

Granted, it doesn't yet establish a general consensus, but it's something...  

And I'm not certain that St. Thomas intends for every word that he discusses to be an essential part of the form. For example, he says that the word "for" ("enim") isn't actually part of the essential form, although the Roman Church uses it (III, Q.78, A.2, ad.5). He also says generally that if different words were used to communicate the same meaning it would still be valid (III, Q.60, A.8). I'm not sure that the omission of mysterium fidei affects the essential sense of the words.

St. Thomas has other arguments for the necessity of specific words in the sacraments. Since you do not consider a specific "form" or set of words to be the cause of transubstantiation in the Eucharist, would you hold a similar position with regard to the other sacraments, such as Baptism? It seems evident at least that for Baptism a specific set of words is necessary for the sacrament to be effected. St. Thomas speaks of Baptism as example for his argument that all the sacraments require words, and he quotes St. Augustine (III, Q.60, A.6). And it seems evident from Scripture too, for Christ commanded the apostles to baptize all nations "In the name of the Father," etc. If from that we can draw the necessity of a determinate set of words, why not also from the words of institution also recorded in Scripture? 

I'll have to study more on the history of the Council of Florence, but from what I gather from Catholic Encyclopedia, it seems that the main controversy there was whether the epiklesis or the words of institution brought about transubstantiation. It's not clear to me that a case like that of Addai and Mari would even have been considered - whether by the Latins or the Greeks. Isn't true that Addai and Mari has neither the Words of Institution nor an Epiklesis? I could be wrong, but it seems as though at Florence, the only two options were either the words of institution or the epiklesis.

The Rad Trad: I will refrain from further comment on the Golden Mouth's quotation until I can look up some commentaries and more translations. The bit from St Athanasius does not really suggest anything concrete at all to me. In fact, as Patriarch of Egypt his current successor is Tawadros II, Patriarch of the Coptic Church, a church which uses the liturgy I mentioned earlier which claims the change takes place as the words "He makes [the bread] into His Body" and the same for the chalice. 

A further difficulty is that writers in this time tended not to reflect too deeply on the liturgy because they took it as a given. They wrote about the natures of Christ and the Trinity because Jesus' divinity was in question. They wrote about icons because icons were in question. We, in the West, wrote so much about the Eucharist and priesthood because the protestants questioned those things. No one, until the 16th century, really questioned what happened on the altar so they did not dissect and analyze it. Moreover, there are some manuscripts from that era, but not many. They just followed what St Paul said in 1 Corinthians 11: I have passed onto you what I have received. A Melkite Catholic priest once said to me something to the effect that "We don't dwell on minimal things like validity or forms. We just do what was given to us and we only do that." 

I only adduced the bit from the Summa on the consecration simply to show the effect of over-applying the liturgical theology of one rite to another, even another Roman liturgical rite. 

There are indeed many different forms for many of the Sacraments throughout the Catholic Church. Your example of Baptism mostly holds. All valid Baptism is "in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit" but that is it. Romans baptize with the words "I baptize you in the name....." while the Byzantines baptize with "The servant/handmaiden of God is baptized in the name......" Roman and Slavic rites absolve sins with "I absolve you...." while the Byzantines say "Jesus Christ absolves you." Indeed it has to be verbal, because it is a prayer after all, and there are some guidelines, but the exact formula is not entrenched. 

The main controversies at Florence were (in order of importance):

• The doctrinal soundness/legality of the filioque in the Latin version of the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed

• The use of unleavened bread in the Latin liturgy

• The extent of Papal power outside the Roman patriarchate

• The conflict between Scholastic ideas about the un-knowability of God versus the Hesychast Greek theology of God's un-knowability in essence and knowability in energies 

Again, it was supposed to be a reunion Council and one that did not work out. I suspect your excerpt above might be from the part of Florence wherein they discussed Scholastic theology's role in the Universal Church. The Greeks, eager for some money and soldiers, did not make much of a case for their position, except for Mark of Ephesus, who [helped] ruined the reunion upon his return to Byzantium. 

The Maestro: What I was wondering was whether the case of Baptism is at all analogous to that of the Eucharist. From all the examples you mention - if I understand you correctly - it seems that the same essential form is used throughout all of those rites ("...in the name of the Father, etc"), with only the minor differences which St. Thomas says do not change the meaning. So as far as I can see, there is a set formula, but which allows for minor variations. The formula does appear to originate directly from the words of Christ Himself, in all of these cases. Whereas, according to your position, the case is not so with regard to the Eucharist: the Roman "formula" consists in the words of institution, the Byzantine in the epiklesis, and the Addai and Mari rite doesn't even seem to have a formula. So there doesn't seem to be an analogy between Baptism and the Eucharist, in this respect: for in the latter case, in some rites, it appears that the crucial words are not those of Christ. So my question was why, if in the case of Baptism, the "formulae" for all Catholic rites seem to be drawn from the words of Christ, the same could not be said of the "formula" for the Eucharist. Of course, perhaps the same could not be said for some of the other sacraments either... I've seen a distinction between those Sacraments whose forms were given by Christ (as evident in Scripture) and those whose were not.

In any case, I am also wondering about the extent to which theological variety is acceptable in the Church. You've mentioned several times now the tendency to universalize the Thomistic theology and apply it to other rites. Obviously, there is some room for variation and theological opinion, but I'm not entirely clear on how we can hold St. Thomas' sacramental theology to be true only in the Roman Rite, or even Eastern theology to be true only in the Eastern rites... It seems to me to be more than a question of method, but of the actual theological truths. Or are we really to hold that, in the Roman Rite, the consecration really does take place at the words of institution, but in the Byzantine Rite, it really does take place at the epiklesis; and further, that in Addai and Mari... do we even know when it takes place? So if the consecration takes place at a different moment for each of these rites, what is that determines which moment? Is it simply the belief of the people within each rite? That is, does the Roman consecration take place at the words of institution because the Romans believe so, and the Byzantine at the epiklesis because the Byzantines believe so, etc? That seems to make it very subjective. Which is why, I think, we see that tendency to universalize theology, especially among the scholastics: because the nature of truth doesn't allow for that much subjectivity.

Even if we were to try to address this problem simply by saying that in all these liturgies the consecration does take place at some point, and that is what matters, nonetheless that seems to me to avoid, rather than solve, the problem...

As to Florence, the quote I gave earlier is from "Exultate Domino" bull concerning union with the Armenians. I'm not entirely sure of what all the content was (I've only skimmed it) but it does go through each of the seven sacraments. It seems almost like a catechism on the sacraments... (It's somewhere in this link: http://www.ewtn.com/library/councils/florence.htm#3) The Catholic Encyclopedia gives a brief summary of the debates that occurred concerning the Eucharist, and it seems an important one was concerning the words of institution versus the epiklesis. http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/05584a.htm

The Rad Trad: You may find this commentary on the Addai & Mari rite, provided by the Chaldean Catholic diocese of the USA, heuristic: http://www.kaldu.org/3_chaldean_culture/TheAnaphora_ApostlesAddai_Mari.html

The baptismal rites all use "Father, Son, and Holy Spirit" not because the clergy of those rites though Our Lord gave them a formula, but because He gave them a command: to reveal the Trinity and baptize people into the Triune Godhead, to the Father, in the Son, by the Holy Spirit. Similarly with the Eucharist, He did not necessarily mean to restrict His command to the repetition of words over bread and wine, but to communicate the need to repeat an action. The Greek for "Do this in memory of me" is actually very strong, meaning "Do this for the anamnesis of me" (do this action as I do it). By that He meant the entire Eucharistic action: thanksgiving, the establishment of the purpose of the bread and wine, and the offering of Himself on the Cross—the sacrifice made present on the altar, and the rising up on the third day. One would be hard-pressed to find a Eucharistic prayer East or West that does not repeat this pattern. Also, the Eucharist was instituted in the context of a meal, which indicates to me at least that the eating and drinking in His sacrifice is the action being continued, not the specific words alone. If you have a strong enough interest in this matter I suggest you track down a copy of Gregory Dix's Shape of the Liturgy, a monumental book on liturgical history (some of his work is outdated, but it is still the best book of its kind) which frames its discussion around the idea of anamnesis. Dix ws an Anglo-Catholic, but, aside from the chapter on the Anglican liturgy (which I ignored) it hardly shows. 

The consecration, to my mind, does take place at different times in the different rites owing not only to the form, but also to the intention. Can a priest accidentally consecrate, as would be the case in the Byzantine rite at the narrative, when he does not intend to do so? The priest is given power to "offer sacrifice for the living and the dead" (old ordination rite) and to "offer the Eucharist" (new ordination rite), not to use a particular formula. If the priest has the power and intention, and he offers the Eucharist in manner hallowed by time and which the Church has accepted, who am I to tell him he's doing it wrong or that the change happens in a way otherwise than what his rite's tradition says? 

I think St Thomas's writing on the consecration is very limited to the Roman rite, not least because he does not purpose to offer an a priori form for consecration, but rather the form for consecration in the only Eucharistic prayer he ever knew. He is using Scripture as evidence, not as a starting point. He really is holding the liturgy as a revealed truth (as do I) and attempting to understand it; the issue is that he had one datum. 

Another factor may have been that a century before St Thomas lived priests began to elevate the Host and Chalice at Mass (people would actually yell from the nave "Show us" and "Let me see"), a kind of piety that substituted for the actual reception of Communion (from the 9th century until the 18th Communion was never really distributed at Mass, only at side chapels and on major feasts due to popular fear of unworthy reception). I think those elevations may have popularized discussion as to the exact moment of change.  

With Florence, as with most Councils, one must contextualize what they are saying to understand the extent of it. In the Eastern Churches, for instance, they say there are "at least seven Sacraments" whereas we say "there are seven sacraments and then many sacramentals." The Easterners refer to Sacraments as Mysteries and lump Mysteries and Sacramentals into Sacraments (all possible means of transmitting grace). It takes some patience to understand and might be at the heart of the bulls to the Armenians and Copts.

The Maestro: The idea of anamnesis does intrigue me, though I am wondering - and perhaps I misunderstand - why would that concept not include the words by which Christ consecrated the bread and wine?

So according to your position, the most essential validity of the sacrament, for whatever rite, is determined by the power and intention of the priest, and the approval of the Church? I wonder though, has the Church officially approved of the idea that the Byzantine consecration occurs at the epiklesis, or that the Addai and Mari consecration occurs... whenever it does? As I understand, the Church thus far has attempted to "universalize" the Thomistic account of the consecration, as at Florence - unless I am missing something. Furthermore, has the Addai and Mari rite actually been magisterially approved? I am not certain that the CDF qualifies as a strictly magisterial authority, when compared to something like Florence or Trent, or the common opinion of the theologians and scholastics. Has the Church approved of it elsewhere? As for the power and intention of the priest, if the approval of the Church is doubtful, intention seems a week foundation; and the exercise of power seems properly to imply the need for some instrument or means by which it is exercised - such as a set of words - or else the priest could say any prayer he likes, with the intention, and effect the consecration. It's similar to my earlier problem: it seems very subjective.

You make interesting points about St. Thomas and the history of the elevation and so forth. 

The Rad Trad: Dix does not necessarily exclude the importance of the institution words, but he does not think they are strictly needed (as evidenced by the anaphora of St Hippolytus for instance) for the action, though he does not see a conflict there either. I will let his book speak for itself.

The idea of the Church approving something "magisterially" is actually quite novel and quite new (Counter-Reformation era, before only grave matters went to Rome and the bishop most often passed judgment). The older concept is summed up by St Vincent of Lerins: "If it is tradition it needs no explanation. If it is not tradition then it has no explanation." Time and perpetual use gives a rite the Church's approval, not the stamp of a congregation in Rome or the Pope (if what he does is novel). The Church has not magisterially approved the apparition of the Empty Tomb to Mary Magdalen and the other Mary in the year 33, she has just always believed and taught it. The Byzantine rite was never "approved," nor was the Roman rite until 1570. Heck, the Mass of Paul VI was released by a congregation in Rome, not by the Pope. Is it approved? The Addai and Mari rite pre-dates the Pauline Mass by approximately 1,600 years, which, in Scholastic terms, would indicate its approval by the "Universal Ordinary Magisterium" to me. The approval of the Church is not doubtful to me. It is not even doubtful to Br Ansgar, given the rite's constant use, which is why he attempts, with debatable success, to demonstrate that it originally had an institution narrative which disappeared. Intention is a necessary condition, not the primary condition, for a Sacrament to take place. Time and use hallows rites, intention grows out of them (which is why I mentioned the elevations which began in the Middle Ages—a positive development to be sure).

The Maestro: Perhaps the main problem in my mind is whether the truth of the matter determines the intention of the priest and faithful, or whether their intention is what determines the truth of the matter. In other words, have the faithful always believed the rite is valid because it is so, or is it valid because they have believed so? If the truth is determined by their belief and intention, then it seems the answer is the latter. Granted, normally speaking, that a certain belief is in the tradition is evidence for its truth - and I don't think I could answer such an argument, at this point - but that's different than saying that it's being in tradition is the cause of its truth. Are you proposing this latter?