The Vatican issued a document Tuesday ratified and confirmed by Pope Benedict reasserting that the Roman Catholic Church is the only "true" church and that other denominations do not hold "the means to salvation." [article]
Next is his immediate reaction to Benedict’s statement—or rather, since he gives no sign of having read the document itself, to the article about Benedict’s statement.
Well isn't that precious.
Notice the ironic use of the word “precious.” The word does not mean “of high value” but the opposite. Yet as amusing and effective as irony can be, it is not a substitute for thinking or reasoning. For example, rather than critiquing this post I could have said, “Gee, your profound insights, thoughtful reactions, and well-informed opinions in this post are precious.” But I would rather use reason than irony since the calm, passionate defense of a belief more easily opens the way for response or even refutation. In the next sentence, he clarifies his personal reaction.
And by precious I mean sad—divorced from both the message of Jesus [Matthew 25:31-46] and from world history since then.
Here are two implied arguments. The first is that Matthew 25:31-46 somehow refutes or speaks against Catholicism in general and the papacy in particular. The second is that the history of the papacy somehow refutes or speaks against Catholicism in general and the papacy in particular. Neither argument, however, can be refuted because neither argument is clearly presented.
I can fairly quickly skip past the fury and right on to the bewilderment and pity.
Here the author lets us know which emotional states he passed through in the moments immediately after reading the news article.
It's just quite the mind-blow to see otherwise reasonably intelligent people—people talking into cell phones, for instance; these aren't jungle people—casually mention their assent to the exclusivist and [quite literally] self-righteous nature of the Roman bishop.
This is the second most interesting part of the whole post because he manages to use two logical fallacies in the same sentence. The first is the Appeal to Incredulity (e.g., “I don’t understand how anyone could argue from an appeal to incredulity”) and the second is the Appeal to Vanity (e.g., “You are far too intelligent to accept an argument based on an appeal to vanity”) [SOURCE]. Interestingly, the author manages to blend both of them into a single appeal that we can, for the sake of accuracy, call the Incredulity-Vanity Appeal. However, no honest thinker can accept the argument that because this writer does not understand how intelligent Catholics assent to their faith, that faith must therefore be wrong.
Also, according to this author, the “nature of the Roman bishop” is “[quite literally] self-righteous.” Due to an ambiguity, this charge may be taken in two ways. The first way is if Roman bishop, which properly denotes the pope’s person, is a metonym for Roman bishopric, which denotes his office. Or, if the words are taken as they stand, that the any pope is, presumably in the exercise of his office, self-righteous. What then is meant by “quite literally” self-righteous? The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language defines “self-righteous” as “piously sure of one's own righteousness” [SOURCE]. The word “piously” here is pejorative, meaning not “marked by earnest devoutness” but “marked by false devoutness” [2b]. The question at hand then is whether the papal office as such is sure of its own righteousness in a manner marked by false devoutness, or whether every pope as a pope has been sure of his own righteousness in a manner marked by false devoutness. And the second sense must be universal to every bishop of Rome, for a flaw in the nature of a thing must be universal to all instances of that thing.
The first sense, while supported by a later correspondence in which the author said “the papacy in and of itself is a self-righteous post,” is quite literally impossible since an office, having no consciousness, cannot be sure of anything. And the second sense—that in the exercise of his office the pope acts in a manner marked by false devoutness—begs the question, assuming that the bishop of Rome has not been granted his office by Christ.
Now we come to the most interesting part of post, the imaginary conversation between a Protestant and the pope.
Protestant: "And, why are you infallible again?"
Pope: "Because I said I was!"
In this passage the author has the pope claim that the ground of papal infallibility is the pope’s own assertion rather than, as Catholic’s believe, Christ’s promise to his Church. This is distortion number one.
Protestant: "Well, I happen to disagree. So there."
Pope: "Take it back!"
Here the author implies that every pope is merely a petty, power-hungry person incensed by disagreement. A more intimate acquaintance with the history of the popes, however, easily refutes this notion (vid. J. N. D. Kelly’s Dictionary of Popes). Distortion number two.
Protestant: "Unless I am convinced by the testimony of the Holy Scriptures or by evident reason—for I can believe neither pope nor councils alone, as it is clear that they have erred repeatedly and contradicted themselves—I consider myself convicted by the testimony of Holy Scripture, which is my basis; my conscience is captive to the Word of God. Thus I cannot and will not recant, because acting against one's conscience is neither safe nor sound. God help me."
Pope: "Sorry, God's going to light you on fire forever."
Finally, in his third distortion, the author suggests that in his condemnation of error every pope secretly wishes that those in error burn forever in hell. There is no evidence, however, to support such a wild claim.
Thus we have three distortions of Catholicism, two fallacious appeals, and two implied arguments. (Apparently, I miscounted the number of appeals earlier.)
