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On Faith - A Posthumous Publication of St. James II


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ON FAITH

 

Saint Mary Magdalene reading, at a table - Pieter Coecke van Aelst

 

BY ST. HIGH PONTIFF JAMES II

FOREWORD AND POSTHUMOUS PUBLICATION BY JOSEPHINE AUGUSTA, DUCHESS OF SUNHOLDT

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Though no one has ever been bold enough to tell me, I suspect that I cut an unusual figure for a canon lawyer. This is not a traditional occupation for an aristocratic laywoman, and particularly not so for a princess. But my imperial father is quite a devout man, and he has tried his best to instill that in me, employing the most qualified tutors and insisting upon many visits to holy places. For the greater part of my life I felt he had failed-- while I had a scholar’s knowledge of the legalisms and juridic doctrines surrounding Canonism, I could not find in my heart that special spark of faith. But while I was reviewing the annotated Holy Scrolls of the recently-canonized St. Pius of Sutica, I encountered reference to a specific document of which I could find no other record. It was entitled On Faith, supposedly by James II, and it was referenced several times through St. Pius’ work.

 

I expressed my frustration to my devoted teacher, Fr. Johan, who gave to me this unfinished essay of his dear departed brother. Evidently the Pontiff passed away while authoring it, but the drafts had already been circulated among his closer companions. Admittedly, I already had some connection to His Late Holiness: he taught my imperial father, and after the Pontiff’s passing, I co-authored the second volume of his series, the Epochs of the Empire. When I first read his works, I found that our authorial tones were similar, but I still could not feel that special light of faith of which he spoke so lovingly.

 

However, the scattered notes of this particular paper (which incidentally form a sequel to his polemic The Age of Reason) gave me great strength. Perhaps it is because the message is so warm; Fr. Johan tells me that in his later years, St. James II became extremely tolerant, where in his early reign he often struck out with fierce judgement. Or perhaps it is simply that I have grown older now. I have begun to feel that when we are young, faith is difficult because we are full of fresh-faced optimism and ambition. Accustomed to relying on this seemingly endless font of inner strength, we may hesitate to rely upon something so ‘external’ as God for strength.

 

Regardless of the reason, after reading this paper, I have found that spark of faith which evaded me. It is not as strong as I perhaps would like; I continue to doubt that I will ever achieve the holiness of the saints. But for the first time, I feel that it is a goal to which I can aspire.

 

My intent in collating and publishing this incomplete work is twofold: first, to honor and thank St. James II, St. Pius of Sutica, Fr. Johan, and my beloved father for their efforts to bring me lasting contentment; and second, if God is willing, perhaps I may share with you some of that sweet medicine of faith which has alleviated my pains.

 

FIDES QUAERENS INTELLECTUM,

JOSEPHINE AUGUSTA

 

Postscript: I have neither added nor taken anything away from this document in its original form, but I have made slight grammatical edits to His Holiness’ work where his hand seemed unsteady. For the reader’s convenience, I have divided the text into sections according to the pre-existing organization of the late Pontiff’s notes. The first section is by far the most complete; as the work progresses, there are occasional repeated phrases and incomplete thoughts. I had thought at first to annotate where necessary, but it seems most righteous to preserve the text as it was. If you find this work spiritually fortifying, please read the Age of Reason, and the ensuing epistolary dialogue between St. James II and St. Pius of Sutica.

 

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ON FAITH

By High Pontiff James II

 

In my recent polemic, The Age of Reason, I criticized the dangerous tendency to prefer Reason to Faith. I give thanks that this essay was so well-received. However, my colleague Fr. Pius admonished me that its attitude may risk leading others into error. This essay will not be principally concerned with The Age of Reason, but it is inspired by Fr. Pius’ response, for which I also thank him. For On Faith we will adopt a moderate and logical tone, and you may thus notice a more methodical progression of points. Here is not a fiery polemic against sin, but a healing salve for the sinner. As I advised you, I now offer my own faith as medicine for the spiritual struggles of my brothers--struggles which I have also experienced. I pray that as God permitted these words to heal me, they will also heal you.

 

In spiritual matters, we often treat doubt with apprehension. This is a fine defense mechanism; doubt that is ill-informed or self-interested is truly harmful. But, as with Reason, here is an issue of intent rather than of substance. When used correctly, referring to the scriptures and our loving brothers in the Church, doubt strengthens our faith. Such is the divine mystery of the Virtue, that it brings contentment even when our own mind cannot.

 

 Doubt is a natural skill for understanding the world and one that is vital in avoiding error. If we have not been raised in the Church, it is quite normal to struggle with doubt, and even lifelong Canonists contend with our understanding of God’s infinity. Such doubt is not sinful on its own; I tell you now that doubt is not the enemy of faith. Truly, we take the bad out of our doubt by treating it not as faith’s opponent, but as its complement. We use it to spur a search for spiritual truth, and faithfully we rely that God has that Truth. Faith, then, is the heartfelt belief that an underlying Truth exists, even if it is not always accessible to our limited senses. Doubt alone does not lead us to this conclusion; it is neither the enemy nor substitute of faith, but a tool which is used either to our detriment or to our benefit.

 

If doubt is not faith’s enemy, what is? It is despair. In despair, a man seeks to resolve his moral struggle by coming down firmly on the side of amorality; it is a tragic and fruitless type of sloth that wants to cast off the innate, but often difficult, desire for good. One who fully accepts despair seeks to empty himself of the fruits of Virtue. He no longer wishes to believe there is a moral foundation to the universe, whereby selflessness leads to good and selfishness to evil. He thus tries to remedy his guilt over his doubting Supreme Good; incorrectly, he does so by removing the guilt and not the doubt. 

 

At first, this causes a hollow, black depression. What a terrible world to believe in, where nothing truly matters? If allowed to progress, such an attitude causes moral relativism and eventually an intentional, pointed kind of selfishness. He might begin to indulge in things that feel wrong even after long thought, not because he wants to do them, but because he wishes to prove to himself he can. He considers God not to be a merciful companion, always with us and offering us something better, but a jailor--such a man deceives himself into choosing evil out of spite, rather than admitting his desperate need for relief.

 

We should also note, for those who seek to apply reason properly to their faith, that despair is actually an unreasonable choice, that is, there is no strong logic behind it.  It is a passion--one so addictive and self-destructive that it brooks no companion. So let us obey Fr. Pius’ advice and take the opportunity to show how reason is applied to faith, redirecting doubt and resisting despair.

 

The faithful are rightly sorrowful when we sin. Though careful not to let this sorrow become despair, we may still need guidance from our peers to find solid ground again. Thus when we weep for our sins, we often hear our fellows say “Why are you so upset? Everyone sins, and God forgives you.” This is a misleadingly pious statement, and it is almost always well-meaning. We do not need to suspect the intentions of one who says such a thing; he is probably trying to help us, and it is probably what we needed to hear. We do not even need to correct him, because if he cares enough to instruct us, he likely understands what he is saying better than we know. This is not written to chastise those who say “Why are you so upset? Everyone sins, and God forgives you,” but instead, as a spiritual medicine for those who still feel doubt and possibly despair upon hearing it.

 

Now, if we are not consoled by our friend’s reminder, it is likely because sinning begat within us a very confusing mix of emotions. We feel grief, which is righteous and proper: for a moment, we had just turned away from He who loves us most. But we also feel a little fear mixed with our grief. This can be an upsetting experience for one who places his trust in God--if we are truly seeking Virtue, and God promises to forgive our sins, and we clearly regret our sin, what is it we have to fear in Him?

 

This fear, however, is not properly directed at God. The fear we feel after a sin is a product of experiencing sin, which is choosing evil. In this, we have just felt a brush with death itself. By turning away from God, we have just had a glance at the Void, which is death eternal.

 

Yet still, why do we fear? We have just brushed with spiritual death, but we survived it.  We repented of our sin and received forgiveness. This is because, in choosing to sin, we risked becoming the kind of man who refuses to accept God’s forgiveness: the unrepentant sinner, who believes “If God forgives me every time I sin, my sins must not be so great--perhaps it is not a sin, perhaps I do not even need His forgiveness.” Too proud to repent, such a man will not sacrifice pitiable sin even in exchange for the joy of salvation.

 

So there is nothing wrong with this, fearing and therefore rejecting sin. Fear of sin becomes problematic only when, consumed by our fear, we fail to reject evil and instead accept it entirely. In this, we make the deluded and tragic decision to deny faith, deny all hope of God’s aid, seeking to escape further spiritual struggle. That is despair; losing our faith in God and therefore in His infinite mercy. Out of this sin comes a flurry of other sins, each reinforcing the last. First, we begin to hate the gift of free will, for without a merciful God who leads us into Virtue, free will’s temptations are a horrible curse. Over time, we then hate He who gave us that gift. Once we have achieved such a thorough rejection of God, our heart is very hardened indeed. Despair, because it is so single-minded, can become a nearly insurmountable challenge to restoring faith.

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Spoiler

Whatever separates us from God, who Himself is Good, is called evil. This is because God contains within Him no evil; evil is, instead, His absence. My colleague Fr. Pius recently referenced the work of V. Fabian the Lesser, The Nature of Evil. This text is a theodicy, a study of the problem of evil. V. Fabian divides evil into three kinds: metaphysical evil, which is the inherent evil of existing as different from God; moral evil, which is the evil of committing sin; and natural evil, which is the evil that results from moral evil. The latter two of these are all that is within our control. We must leave metaphysical evil up to God, for in His Mercy and His Wisdom he chose to create us.

 

Spoiler

If we truly want to understand despair, we are well-served to look at its first victim in history, who is also its most convicted proponent: Iblees.

 

The first virtue is faith; thus the first sin is despair. In despair resides every other sin, and in every other sin resides a little despair.

 

The first virtue is faith in God; thus the first sin is doubt in God. In doubt resides every other sin, and in every other sin resides a little doubt. Iblees is called the Denier; he is the doubter of God, and he doubted Him even as he fled into the Void.


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In his first disobedience, in the first sin, Iblees said to God, “Now my touch is the touch of the Void, and it is with everything in your creation.” (Gospel 1:24) This is the original sin from which all other sins draw their lineage. In choosing to depart from God’s will, Iblees revealed a path into the Void. This is evil, then: not the Void itself, which is harmless and God-ordained if unsought, but rather the seeking of the Void’s oblivion and the leading of others into it. We fear sin because it leads us and others to death eternal.

 

But the tragic irony in Iblees’ choice is, though he hated God, he could not escape His gifts. “And he fled into the Void, for he hated the glory of GOD, and by his own will was shackled there from the Lord.” (Gospel 1:26) God had given free will to Iblees, and the Denier used that will to forge chains that held him away from God. Thus we rightly fear any time we choose sin, because each time we have risked finally forging our chains. We have risked deciding to never again seek God’s forgiveness. Only Virtue, which is God’s promise of salvation for all who seek it, can preserve us from this fate. 

 

God is the Most Merciful, however, and no one shall suffer forever. In the end of days, Ex. Owyn’s holy flame will consume those who still suffer in a state of iniquity. The waters of Gamesh will spill even into the Void, and it will be cleansed and made anew. Thus the unrepentant sinner condemns himself (though this is little comfort to us faithful) not to an eternal and incurable rejection of God, but to a singular and final escape from Him. God loves and trusts us so much that if we would refuse Him forever, He allows even that final, awful, ignorant desire: oblivion. In the last days, everyone will be free of evil, either the evil we suffer in ourselves or the evil we inflict upon others.

 

So, while we rightly fear sin for its consequences, this is not why we should destroy it. We should destroy sin because we feel compassion. First, we are compassionate for bystanders, who may be led to evil through it. More importantly, we are compassionate for the one who commits this evil, because he loves wickedness so greatly that he would rather enter oblivion than resist its temptation. That is terrifying. We are right to fear that someone might despair in that way. Each man who perishes forever because of his love of sin is a terrible weight on our conscience, unless we have done all we can to prevent it.

 

But--and here is the crucial part--we do not stop evil alone. Evil separates us from God, and so whatever unites us with Him is evil’s defeat. Now, we know God may destroy evil without us if He so chooses. He demonstrates this ability with signs of His power: the Virtue, the arrival of the prophets, the descent of the angels, the miracles of the saints, and all the little comforts and refuges of the faithful. He does not stop evil on His own behalf, however, even though He hates His separation from us. This is because, by restraining Himself, God has given us a gift: free will.

 

Like the prophets, we may devote that gift of free will to God, submitting to Him in Virtue; we thus lead people to the Lord and let them also accept Him through their own free will. Or, like Iblees, we may use that will to forge our chains and reject Him--hating His gift, and yet taking it only to spite Him. This is our final choice: to remain with God or to remain without Him.

 

We should also note, for those who seek to apply reason properly to their faith, that despair is actually an unreasonable choice, that is, there is no strong logic behind it. One who truly struggles with doubting God cannot actively disbelieve Him--to take that attitude is to assert Reason has some higher purpose over Good. Despite having both an innate desire to understand the world as well as an innate desire for a real moral foundation, such a man elevates his desire for understanding over his desire for good; he claims that any definitive moral foundation is an illusion, and he further claims he has discovered this through reason. But why should he trust Reason if there is no underlying Truth, no Supreme Good? If this were the case, Reason would be an empty faculty serving only to confuse or mislead; there is no attitude it could justify that he also couldn’t achieve by mere mental fiat. What is so laudable about the process of discernment if there is nothing to discern?

 

We find again that the cure for despair is faith. We may dispense with the notion that there is any decent logic behind moral relativism, though many self-proclaimed atheists have asserted such. Free of that burden, we begin again, but still supposing we are the extremely skeptical type. Let us choose between two worlds: one with absolutely morality and one without. Why should we not want the former? Again, faith reveals her inner nature. In faith, we choose to trust that beneath all the evils of the world, beneath all the struggles, there is a reason that we should prefer one outcome to another; good is the divine presence and evil is its absence.

 

This is why we hear the theologians say that God is Mercy, God is Justice, God is Faith itself; in the same way, Mercy is also Justice, Justice is also Faith, and Faith is also Mercy. Whenever we speak of these virtues, we are each time speaking of God Himself; the seven virtues not as merely complementary, nor as vague rules of thumb, but a truly identical and divine substance: Good. Thus when Faith is expressed perfectly, it begets all other virtues in an equal abundance. The same is true for Charity, Temperance, Diligence, Patience, Fidelity, and Humility--each begets the others. When we speak of The Virtue, rather than a virtue, we invoke a transcendent unity: the coexistence of all morality not as distinct laws, but as one reality towards which we strive. This reality answers all of our questions, it soothes all of our pains, and it forgives all of our mistakes. This reality is God.

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Spoiler

We find again that the cure for despair is faith. 

 

We have free will, and we use it to choose faith over despair, because we love ourselves, our brothers, and God, in the same universal way that God loves us.

 

Iblees is often blamed for our sins, and he perhaps bears a little responsibility as the first sinner; but in truth, he is powerless and God is all-powerful. Iblees’ greatest tool is not his own ability to deceive, but the capacity we each have to self-deceive. The Denier is no more convincing than we allow him to be; he has no ability to hypnotize us, nor any hidden knowledge he may use to pervert our reason. Mostly, he benefits from the misconception that he is the “embodiment of evil”. Evil cannot be embodied; unlike God, it is not a person. Nor is it an impersonal force, for it is the absence of God rather than his opponent. Iblees no more embodies evil than a mortal man who is similarly wicked and despondent. 

 

it is an absence of God, not a force of its own that seeks to frustrate Him.


 

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Johan Vuiller would look over the missive before he'd smile the suns smile looking to Josephine "Vy have truly honored his memory Josephine" he'd smile to his former student, the weathered man thinking back upon his memory's with the late High Pontiff with fondness, he'd then turn to her "I'm sorry my dear, but I should return home to correct my grandson upon his wrongs.. after all its Saint High Pontiff James II, nie Blessed.." he'd chuckle as the aged man would leave the Imperial Palace to speak to Stor. @Lojo613@VIROS

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"The opposite of Faith is despair, that is an interesting take...But I do not know if we can accept the proposition that He is Faith, Humility, etc. - it would only be possible for God to show these virtues if He...somehow united Himself to a lower nature, such as that of an Angel or even...A man." Says Petrus.

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