Trent: Catholicism Made RomanTelford WorkDecember 5, 2001
Like all Christians, Catholics are fond of describing their distinctives as arising in the first century. But in many ways, an important point of departure for Roman Catholicism is the Council of Trent. (This judgment is not necessarily anti-Catholic; the Catholic theological giant Karl Rahner once pointed out that every church council is both the end of one age and the beginning of another, as it settles old issues in ways that give rise to new issues.)
Trent crystallizes and formalizes the Catholic response to Protestantism, its self-understanding, and its program for proceeding in the midst of a now divided European Church. This is new territory for an ecclesiology that had long treated itself as the only game in town. So the Council of Trent is not Catholic “business as usual.”
First, in the tradition of church councils since Nicea, Trent cuts off practices that formerly were considered acceptable. The (Scotist) trajectory of Augustinian thought that flowered in Luther and Calvin is blocked off, in favor of the Aristotelian Augustinianism of Thomas Aquinas. Medieval theological diversity is indeed a thing of the past. For pessimists, this is a prideful narrowing of truly orthodox options that splits the Church. To optimists, this is a return to clarity that restores the focus of Catholic faith.
Ironically, Trent’s account of justification (Sixth Session, Janz #81) is basically compatible with Lutheranism! The Semi-Pelagianism of Gabriel Biel (Janz #8) is gone. The normative confessional framework of justification that was missing in Luther’s day, and whose absence arguably started the controversy in the first place, is now here (cf. Lindberg 357-359 on “confessionalism”). Hans Küng’s deeply influential twentieth century dissertation, Justification, contended persuasively that the two doctrines of justification are basically identical (allowing for differences in vocabulary). Lutherans like David Yeago agree (see “The Catholic Luther,” – and the two traditions have agreed momentously in 1998’s Joint Decree (
Trent’s anathemas are another matter. While affirming Luther’s way of thinking, Trent condemns Luther’s way of talking. Trent rejects not just Protestant “heretics” like Luther, but Protestant theology itself.
Along with theological “clarity” comes liturgical and practical clarity. Trent is deeply conservative liturgically (Janz #82-84) – seven sacraments, the present form of the Mass, sacerdotal (priestly) penance, worship and Bible in Latin. Ironically, this “command-control conservatism” has side-effects that transform Catholic worship. Laypeople who don’t know Latin lean ever more strongly on the priest to do their liturgical work for them, and spend their time in church in private prayers, aided with rosaries and other spiritual disciplines. Ironically, Catholic spirituality becomes at least as individualistic and privatized as Protestant spirituality! Furthermore, the conciliar authority behind these micromanagerial claims makes them very difficult to change or adapt locally. (Vatican II’s reforms come as quite a shock to Tridentine spirituality. Many Catholics, who have learned to love the old ways, remain unhappy with services in English and a priest who faces the people at the Mass.)
On the other hand, Trent follows Protestants (or at least Jesuits!) in newly stressing teaching and preaching (Janz #85-86). It is inaccurate to say that Protestants are the only ones who care about Scripture.
Trent shows the accelerating Roman centralization of Catholicism. Lindberg is right to note the irony of qualifying the word “Catholic” (351). Is he right that this makes Catholicism no more than a denomination, despite its own denials? I know Catholic theologians that basically think so, and are ready to return to a pre-Tridentine understanding of the papacy in order to re-include Protestants. What do you think of that, folks?