p. 278 | Untitled article

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Third-day, October 15, 1867

FromThe Advent Review & Sabbath Herald, Vol. XXX, No. 18

PROSPECTS OF THE PAPACY.

Not content with the late demonstrations at Rome, the Papacy is about to call an Œcumenical Council. In dying, it struggles hard, for it seems not conscious that its agony is mortal; but hopes, like the drowning man, that, by catching at straws, it may yet rise to life and power. Nothing could prove more its fatal condition, inherent weakness, and utter self-delusion, than the means it uses for its self-rescue.

One of the most astonishing of these means was its declaration of the Immaculate Conception, made with the utmost pomp a few years since. Notwithstanding the general tendency of modern thought against the “supernatural,” it dared to venture on this preposterous affirmation. That tendency is chiefly a reaction against the extravagances of “supernaturalism,” especially as they have prevailed under the pervading influence of the Papal church in Europe. All true, enlightened believers could not fail to perceive the importance of protecting well the just supernatural claims of Christianity, at such a time particularly, by guarding against such extravagances as might, unnecessarily, challenge the skepticism of the age. But Popery, on the contrary, chose directly to provoke it not merely to new criticism, but to general ridicule and sarcasm. Not content with vindicating with us all the legitimate supernaturalism of the holy Scriptures, it took its stand on an extra-Scriptural, not to say an un-Scriptural dogma, respecting the mother of Christ. It thereby attempted to affirm, not the supernaturalism of Christianity, but of the Papacy—of the poor, imbecile, effete Popedom itself; for it claimed to determine, by inspiration of the Pope and his assembled prelates, a doctrine which had never been dogmatically taught by Christendom, which has not a word of intimation in the Scriptures, which had been stoutly denied by great Catholic authorities for ages, and which is revolting to all modern reason, not to say modern rationalism—namely: that the Virgin Mary herself was born in a manner exceptional to all the rest of the human race. The civilized world looked upon the scene in Rome with astonishment; the irreligious world laughed; devout, enlightened men mourned. Popery put itself again under the heel of a gainsaying world by this act. Europe had long seen that Romanism deified the Virgin; in the pompous scenes at Rome, at the time of this new declaration, it beheld an attempted re-consecration of the mediæval and expiring idolatry. A severer self-infliction could hardly have been made by the dying Papacy.

Exasperated by its self-delusion, it has again attempted to impose upon the wondering world by its late demonstrations in the Eternal City. It assembled its prelates from the four quarters of the planet. It displayed all its banners and pomps.—But what did it all amount to? What new or enlightening truth was uttered to our enquiring age? What measure proposed in aid of the advancing civilization and liberty of the human race? None whatever. Even the egregious blunder, the unpardonable impolicy of the Vatican in being the only power on earth that recognized the slaveocratic traitors of America, was not qualified, except in general non-committal babblings of good wishes for America. The world has looked in vain to the late displays at Rome for anything befitting our age or civilization. It saw there only a reproduction of the mediæval ceremonies. It averted its gaze with mortification, if not contempt, from a most important part of the ceremonies—the opening, on a given day, of all the city churches expressly for the exhibition of their “relics.” These hollow pretensions, these Dark-Age shams, were the last insult that Rome could give to the intelligence of the nineteenth century. But prelates from the United States, from England, from Germany, from the very centers of modern civilization, went in processions, from temple to temple, bowing and mumbling Latin ejaculations over the display of decayed bones, finger-nails, wooden splinters, rusty spikes, antique pocket-handkerchiefs, etc.

The whole significance of the prelatical assembly was a theatrical exhibition of mediævalism. But does Romanism expect to conquer the world by theatrical performances? The world is on its sublime

march, from battle-field to battle-field, of intellectual and moral victory; Roman ecclesiasticism turns harlequin on the wayside, expecting to arrest the mighty column by its display of puerile frippery and dramatic trickery. What can the world, in the nineteenth century, do but laugh, or brush the child’s play aside out of its sight? We are told by newspaper correspondents that the Italians themselves “have ridiculed greatly these fêtes.” In the shops of Florence, numerous portraits or pictures could be seen, which represent the Pope and his acolytes under the most comical and grotesque forms. How could Romanism recover its authority by such absurd means? There is but one way for the Papal church to re-establish itself; it must renounce its false traditions, its worldly pomps, its tyrannical pretensions, and return to the truth which is in Christ. But will it do this? Will it consent to introduce into its bosom great reforms? The history of the past does not warrant us in hoping it. Thus, in spite of brilliant shows, it is marching toward the abyss, and must sooner or later fall into it.”

The expected General Council will but precipitate it into that abyss. When it meets to challenge once more the attention of the civilized nations, they will virtually and rightfully say to it: “You pastors of the millions of the people, priests and princes of the church, bear the chief responsibility; you call yourselves their teachers, their guides, their saviours. What have you now to say for their amelioration, their enlightenment, their liberation? Dare you to speak again for their tyrants? Do you still confirm the encyclics against their right of conscience, their self-government, their struggles to save themselves and their children? Proscribe you again the free intellect of Europe, the science and enterprise which are putting bread into their hands, light into their brains, and hope into their hearts? Answer, and be prepared to survive or perish according as ye answer.”

We all know what that answer will be; for we all know that Rome must perish—is now perishing.—The Methodist.