Our house, after all these years, is finally going to get demolished. My parents are currently evacuating the things that had gradually accumulated through the years, and there are a few things left.
I saw this book underneath a dilapidated desk, caked in cockroach excrement (with some mold on some page-tips). Despite the fact that a good amount of my father's books were moth-eaten or termite-infested, this book largely avoided their fate. I think that is largely because Americans published pest-resistant books back in the day: the worst any of the insectkind did to this book was eat through part of the front cover. The fear of the Lord, indeed, is the beginning of wisdom.
After some cleaning and dusting, the book's pages remained pristine. With some plastic cover, the book looks dignified. It's quite an achievement: the book is almost a hundred years old, as it was published in 1921.
I have always wanted to read a theology book that didn't take its reader for granted: I almost failed one of my theology courses because our textbook presumed that we were first-year high school students instead of in third-year college, and I got exasperated while trying to study the book. It didn't help that our theology teacher mistook the forest for the trees, asking us to write the Merriam-Webster definition of masturbation instead of discussing human sexuality in the context of God's love.
I didn't have anything to lose, so I started reading this book.
And among other things, Wilmers is extremely thorough. Although I disagree with some aspects of Catholicism, especially because I think about what I believe in, it doesn't take away from the author's robust disquisition upon what I consider as my religion.
One of my central disagreements is the moral infallibility of any single human being, even if he is the Pontiff. (I am not a schismatic, in that I recognize the pope's authority over the Catholic Church; neither, however, am I brainless.)
Can any one Catholic, without any misgivings, say that the papal decisions of Pope Alexander VI or Leo X were truly and entirely inspired by God?
I can't. I can place my faith in the Pontiff if he is a person like our current pope, but I cannot place my faith in an office, even if he were God's human representative here on Earth. After all, God, in His infinite goodness, gave me free will to use as I see fit (and more on that later).
I pray to only my God (and his circumincession) alone.
Furthermore, I also cannot wholeheartedly support faith in tradition. Wilmers wrote: 'For if Scripture conveyed perfect clearness on the truths of Salvation, there would at least be unanimity in the most important doctrines.'
This is a direct attack against Lutheran Protestantism. However, I do not think that a synod of learned clergy is tantamount to catholicity. Catholic tradition is no better or worse than the Protestant belief that Wilmers attacks. Scripture, and only Scripture, can be considered morally infallible as it comes from God Himself.
To be clear, however, I do not disagree with the importance of tradition. Tradition proffers us a foundation toward our faith. Because tradition, however, is still of man and not of God, most of it leads to ritualism: man performs the actions not knowing or internalizing the meaning behind them. It was, after all, also Church tradition that permitted itself to elect incompetent pontiffs. Alexander VI could not fit in his coffin because he was obese. Not only that, it is believed that he fathered many children out of wedlock. Is there anything in that pope that can be considered as representative of God's goodness? Nevertheless, he became pope - because of tradition.
In contrast to this, the permanence of Scripture is more reliable. Wilmers contends: 'The fact that they have recourse to such arbitrary rules is an acknowledgement of the insufficiency of human reason as the interpreter of the Scriptures.' (p. 148)
Yes, but how is unreflected tradition any different? Is there a huge difference between human reason and humans' reason? With the historical occurrence of corruption within the Church permitted by tradition, is there really any significant difference between Protestant independent thought and Catholic 'tradition?' I think not.
I also took exception in regard to the Catholic adoration of angels and saints, because Wilmers's arguments were circumlocutory: Wilmers, to my understanding, argues for the adoration of the saints as representatives and manifestations of God's grace. Can I, as a believer of God, not admire the Supreme Power himself? Why must I rely upon the offshoots of His Grace? Am I not the direct result of His Grace?
It was God who gave man his free will that allows him the choice (a la Dostoevsky's Grand Inquisitor) to do evil. To Wilmers's credit, he provides a believable answer to the question of theodicy. On page 210, he writes:
'Though free will involves the possibility of transgressing the moral law, and forfeiting our end, yet it is good in itself, and, consequently, a gift of God's goodness. God's intention was not its abuse for evil, but its right use for good. And God, being free in the dispensation of good, is not obliged by all possible graces to secure man against the abuse of his free will. He displays His wisdom and goodness sufficiently by giving man sufficient means to enable him to make good use of his freedom. Hence we understand how God's providence can permit evil without intending it (!) . Moreover, God knows how to draw good from evil. For, apart from the fact that the sin of one is the occasion of virtue to another, even final impenitence glorifies God's justice, which is displayed in the punishment of the impenitent sinner.'
Wilmers' continues in page 211: 'If God does not withhold His goodness from the wicked, His intention is to bring them back to Him, and to instigate the good to the imitation of His own goodness.'
The second half of the book is more informative to me, and it discusses Catholic sacraments, eschatology, and Christian morality. Wilmers also deals with the Catholic idea of a purgatory, which I could now grasp: the problem with the idea of purgatory is that it takes interpretation and inference, because it was implied by Christ as a parable: on Matthew, as well as on 1 Corinthians, Jesus speaks, 'Settle matters quickly with your adversary who is taking you to court. Do it while you are still together on the way, or your adversary may hand you over to the judge, and the judge may hand you over to the officer, and you may be thrown into prison. Truly I tell you, you will not get out until you have paid the last penny.' (Matthew 5:25-26) [p. 390]
I must have had a good background of the sacraments from my parents, but I did discover something novel: the sacrament of the Holy Eucharist remits venial sins. The problem, however, nowadays, is that everyone enacts mortal sins (including me). God, however, in his Infinite Goodness, manifests his goodness in rewarding repentant sinners with eternal happiness, as well as giving a lighter punishment to most than the punishment they truly deserve.
The book is both heavy and heady, and it forces one to come to terms with what he believes in. Despite this, however, it's a great, thought-provoking book that reflects upon faith.