If you have stuck with our investigation thus far, you may have come to the same conclusion as I have: although the rapturist position here in the United States has many adherents, it has no adequate biblical basis. Why, then, does this position continue to enjoy such wide popularity?

Granted, some people believe in a secret rapture because they have been misled about what the Bible actually teaches. They are committed to something that they have been taught to be true, but have never objectively examined. But I believe there are other reasons that explain some believers’ unshakable adherence to this system of theology. Here are a few that I have observed in my experience.

Three of the factors that makes rapturist theology appealing to Americans are more psychological than theological.

Rapturism allows for “comfortable pessimism”; that is, it gives people a positive response to the evil we witness in the world today. Belief in an imminent rapture is a very simple, comforting filter through which to view life. It lends meaning to current events. For example, when the World Trade Center was destroyed on September 11, 2001, a close rapturist friend informed me that this was a fulfillment of Chapter 18 of The Apocalypse, when Babylon is to be burned in an hour and its destruction mourned by the merchants. Another rapturist pointed to that horrific event and implied that I should take comfort that the end was near.

When anything bad happens, the rapturist can say, “Well, we all know that things will get worse and worse just before Christ raptures us away. It is obvious the end is near, but at least we won’t be here to suffer through it.” The belief system of rapturists allows them to take a certain comfort in the face of evil. For when things really deteriorate into chaos, they expect to be safely tucked away in Heaven.

There is a problem with this approach to life, however. It may comfort the person witnessing suffering, but it does absolutely nothing positive for the person experiencing the suffering. This theology is appealing only as long as the pain is someone else’s.

Some observers have linked the attraction of comfortable pessimism to the Great Depression and to the horrors of World War II. These events turned many Americans of that generation into latent pessimists. The idea that they would be the ones to witness the apocalyptic end of this world seemed completely in line, on a cosmic level, with their experience of evil. Many of the institutions that promote rapturist theology today were founded and expanded by this generation.

The system continues to appeal to new generations of Americans because of the despair that is so prevalent in our culture. Rapturism is a natural spiritual home for those who think the world is careening out of control. To a large extent, they can keep their basic outlook of despair, but remain able to cope on a daily basis.

This basic pessimism also helps explain the relative political inactivity of this group of Christians. Darby himself understood that his new theology left no room for political involvement. He claimed that “it is absolutely necessary that we should renounce everything.” He believed that this world and its governmental systems are evil.

Darby taught that this world is irrelevant to the future of committed Christians, because they will be raptured out of its problems. He told his followers, “We do not mix in politics; we are not of the world” (WRI, II:44). Early rapturists even refused to vote. Although this has certainly changed, modern rapturist preachers emphasize the imminent judgment of this world by asking, “Why polish the brass on a sinking ship?” They do not believe this world is worth improving. They believe that a Christian’s goal is to hang on until Christ raptures him away, while attempting to take as many with him as possible.

This mindset may explain a peculiar phenomenon that has puzzled some political commentators here in the United States. Fundamentalist Protestants have been unable to keep any political institution viable and active for any extended period. Jerry Falwell’s Moral Majority was a dynamic force on the political scene for a decade, and then it virtually disappeared. Pat Robertson and Ralph Reed were connected with the Christian Coalition, which was a force to be reckoned with for another decade. Yet no Fundamentalist organization has been able to remain a force for much longer, even during the heyday of rapturist theology in the last quarter of the twentieth century. Is it because the theology that lies beneath these organizations cannot sustain political activity? This seems at least possible.

At the same time, the freedom—even the command—to reject political responsibility can be appealing. If you are tired of hearing sermons on social justice or on the Christian community’s responsibility to change the culture for Christ, then a rapturist Church can seem like paradise—although a pessimists’ paradise to be sure.

There is a serious problem underlying all of this, however. While the hope of a rapture allows rapturists to cope with tragedy, it also saddles them with a non-Christian view of the world. Quite simply, the rapturist system contains no Cross. Although some rapturists do not hold to it, by its very nature this theology is closely allied to the “health and wealth” gospel. This is the idea that, since Christ suffered on the Cross for us, Christians need never suffer again. These Christians believe that God wants our lives on earth to be free from any hardship and overflowing with material goods. The presence of these material blessings is evidence of one’s high spiritual estate, and the absence of them is evidence of a lack of faith.

While the appeal of this idea is obvious, it is absolutely antithetical to the teaching of our Savior. Jesus never promised us a rose garden because of His suffering. In fact, He promised us our own Gethsemane. Jesus taught that any follower of His must “deny himself and take up his cross daily” (Luke 9:23). He called us to His Cross, and then showed us how to carry our own crosses for God.

Jesus further said, “Whoever does not bear his own cross … cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:27). The choice presented by Christ is quite stark. Later in His ministry, Jesus warned His followers that “in the world you [will] have tribulation” (John 16:33). In Christ’s prayer for His disciples and future Church, Jesus never once prayed that His followers would be exempted from suffering. Even less did He intimate that they would be secretly raptured away from this world’s sufferings. He prayed that His followers would have the strength to endure the trials He knew would be coming: “I do not pray that Thou shouldst take them out of the world, but that Thou shouldst keep them from the evil one” (John 17:15). Meditation on this verse undermines the assumptions behind the purpose of a secret rapture.

Endurance in suffering was the constant message of The Apocalypse, as well. Christians must expect suffering and endure it for the sake of salvation. This was the teaching of the early Church without exception. In the first century, the Pastor of Hermas reminded Christians, “Those who continue steadfast and are put through the fire will be purified by means of it … wherefore cease not speaking these things into the ears of the saints” (TSV, IV). Suffering is to be expected in the Christian pilgrimage because it is a means to holiness.

Many committed rapturists believe they will be exempted even from the suffering of death. They take great comfort in their belief that Christ must rapture away this generation, the “generation of the fig tree,” the one that has witnessed the founding of Israel. As we have seen, however, there is actually no biblical basis for this false comfort.

I have known some committed rapturists as friends and have seen some of these friends meet death. They—and everyone in this generation and in generations to come—will continue to die until Christ returns in all His glory, and there is no guarantee that it will occur within this generation any more than during the generation of Montanis or of Joseph Smith. Remember them? They, too, were certain that Christ would return before their generation died.

The same human instinct that causes people to visit palm-readers and fortune-tellers makes rapturist theology so popular. When world events seem to spin out of control, the rapturist can sit comfortably in the knowledge that he has the inside scoop on the future. This appeals to anyone’s innate sense of curiosity and promotes a sense of security.

Unfortunately, pride is a very natural result of this thinking. I do not say this with pleasure. I myself was an integral part of the rapturist movement for most of my life. Just like all the other “end of the world” sects that have sprouted since the Montanists ruined the Church picnic almost two millennia ago, we are supposed to believe that we are the final generation, that we have the blueprint for all of history in our back pockets. This puts us, and the leaders of this movement, at the apex of history. Nothing in history is as important as what is happening now. Our generation is involved in the final battle of good and evil, and no other generation has a more important role to play than ours. And not only do we know all of history; we know the important events of the next few years before they even happen. This can be a tremendous ego-booster!

In contrast, the Catholic Church teaches that we may or may not be in the final confrontation between God and Satan. God took at least two or three millennia to get the world ready for His greatest creation, which is Christ’s Bride, the Church. Why should God now end the work of the Church after a mere two millennia? There is no scriptural basis for believing that the Church will not continue growing here on earth for ten thousand years or more.

This perspective need not make our present generation feel unimportant just because we will not consummate the entire plan for the last days. In fact, it should do just the opposite. Everything we do now will have repercussions for generations to come. Our actions today—good and evil—can lead to consequences in five hundred years that we can hardly imagine!

The pride engendered by claiming to have the blueprint to history is the original “hook” that gets many Catholics interested in rapturist beliefs. The Catholic Church tells us how this world will end, but it often seems to be so far in the future. In contrast, rapturists promise to clue us in to events that are unfolding before our very eyes. At first, their system seems to answer to the biblical data, give meaning to the daily news, and satisfy our curiosity, all at the same time. Why go to a palm-reader when the local preacher at the corner church will answer many of your questions about the immediate future?

Believe me, this appeal of the rapture and the Great Tribulation is not lost on rapturists, who use their premillennial system as a wedge for pulling people out of the Church. Most Catholics do not understand rapturist theology. After all, it is not even two hundred years old! It is so far afield from the traditional understanding of the Church throughout the ages, that even Catholic leaders are sometimes caught flat-footed when asked to respond. I have gotten letters from Catholic pastors at a total loss as to how to respond to rapturists.

As a result, the most anti-Catholic of the Protestant groups find that when they teach about an imminent secret rapture and the ensuing Great Tribulation, they have an extremely effective method of drawing Catholics away from the Church. Many former Catholics admit that they first considered leaving the Church after being introduced to this doctrine. By the time a faithful Catholic family figures out what this teaching is all about, they have lost a child, a brother, or a spouse to the local Fundamentalist group down the street.

Although I believe that these psychological reasons are an important aspect of rapturism’s appeal, there are two important theological reasons as well. They rely on opposite, extreme views of Scripture.

The first view is sola Scriptura, which seeks to place the Bible on a pedestal that the Bible itself flatly rejects. Rapturists stand firmly in the tradition of the radical, Anabaptist Protestant Reformation. They accept no other authority than the Bible. They do not accept bishops or any type of spiritual authority vested in any man. They firmly believe that if a person approaches Scripture with a pure heart, the Holy Spirit will unerringly lead him to the truth. Their faith is completely individualistic.

This approach leads to a problem. What would happen if one of these Christians were to admit that a Bible passage was symbolic or figurative? Well, then whoever had the authority to determine what was symbolic, and what was not, would really be more authoritative than the Bible itself. At least, that is the way they view the situation. They do not want to open that Pandora’s box.

As a result, they take everything in the Bible as literally as possible (except for the clear teaching on the Eucharist, of course). Rapturists naturally tend to the belief that the universe was created in six literal, twenty-four hour days. Because of the genealogies in Genesis, many of them would hold that the world is less than ten thousand years old. They must understand all passages of the Bible literally because they think that otherwise they will have left the barn door open for the horses to escape: once any passage is declared to be figurative, where do they stop, without an accepted authority as a guide? Rapturists choose to be literalistic in their interpretation of apocalyptic literature because they think that anything else is just too dangerous. Literal Scripture interpretation is their only anchor of stable spiritual authority.

Given their assumptions, they may be justified in their fear. Ultimately, mainline liberal Protestantism has shown that in the absence of any central teaching authority, even the Virgin Birth and the Resurrection will be allegorically interpreted. Yet the Bible itself makes clear that a literal meaning is not intended for many apocalyptic passages. Sola Scriptura itself is never taught in the Bible, and is actually antibiblical (BFB, 3). That is why I have labeled it as “too high” a view of Scripture.

Of course, the Catholic has an advantage in interpreting Scripture. As Catholics, we have a three-legged stool to support our faith: the Church’s Tradition, the Church’s Magisterium, and the Church’s Scripture. The great fourth-century Bible scholar, St. Jerome, wrote, “We do not attempt to prove either the advent of Christ or the falsehood of antichrist from … the passages of Scripture. Because our authority is more secure [and biblical], we have the liberty to understand certain passages as symbolic when warranted, without the fear that even the Incarnation might eventually be taken as a ‘myth’ ” (CID, 11:45). St. Jerome illustrates that the mainline liberal Protestants’ problem that the Fundamentalist worries about is not all that modern after all!

So, sola Scriptura actually prevents the rapturist from understanding the Bible as clearly as the Catholic can. This is true not only concerning the symbolic nature of some passages, but also concerning events that occurred after the last historical book of the New Testament ends. That book is The Acts of the Apostles, and its story ends with St. Paul imprisoned in Rome. Since St. Paul died in the Great Tribulation of 64 to 67 A.D., there is no mention of that event or of the fall of Jerusalem. Although many rapturists may not be consciously aware of this, as a group they tend to work under the assumption that events not recorded in Scripture are not essential for the understanding of their faith.

Since the fall of Jerusalem is not recorded in Scripture as history, rapturists start with a distrust of any attempt to understand the prophecies of The Apocalypse, the Olivet Discourse, and Daniel through the lens of that event. Especially in the pews, many rapturists hold to a version of sola Scriptura that is indefensible even among many Protestant scholars. These rapturists refuse even to consider the events of 70 A.D. as a key to understanding any prophecies of the Bible because the events themselves are not enumerated in Scripture. It is almost as though these events did not even occur. Therefore, they are left groping for a still-future fulfillment.

Admittedly, this is an extreme application of sola Scriptura, but it is nevertheless a reality within rapturist circles. This approach certainly simplifies the amount of data one needs to work with to understand the Bible, but ultimately it clouds the truth.

The second theological appeal of the rapturist system has more to do with Catholics than Protestants. I believe that this one is the most important reason people leave the historical Church that Christ founded two millennia ago to join a rapturist movement founded two centuries ago. The recent ascendancy of modernist theology within Catholic biblical studies stands at the center of the issue.

You may have been wondering why, in a book about rapturists, I have spent time dealing with the modernist position. Well, to a large extent, rapturists are a reaction to the emergence, or more accurately the re-emergence, of modern skepticism. Sometimes good people are attracted to premillennialism as an antidote to the modernists’ denial of the supernatural.

An important precedent to this phenomenon can be found in the early Church. Bishop Irenaeus developed the theological rationale for premillennialism. There is no clear evidence of premillennialism in the leadership of the Church before him. Why would he experiment with a theology that was more Jewish than Christian, was undoubtedly innovative, and would end up being condemned by his contemporaries and those Church Fathers who read him in later years? It is impossible to understand this good bishop in a vacuum. I believe that Irenaeus was motivated by the desire to protect the Faith of the fathers from the Gnostics.

The Gnostics were practical dualists who predated Christianity and saw the spiritual realm as innately good and physical reality as completely evil. As Christianity spread throughout the Middle East, Gnostics infiltrated and distorted the message of the Church. Their distrust of “the grossness of matter” led them to teach that salvation was obtained exclusively through knowledge, rather than through faith-filled obedience. In fact, the Gnostics were ultimately pessimists: all physical reality was so evil that it was incapable of salvation. This led them to deny the reality of the Incarnation. They could not accept that a spiritual, “pure” God (the Parent-Spirit) could unite with a physical, “evil” body. Their dualistic view of reality also led them to deny the hope of any real, physical return of Christ at the final eschaton. Of course, the true significance of the Eucharist would be anathema to them as well (CE, NCE).

In brief, the Gnostics denied that the supernatural could impinge upon the physical world. To anyone who has studied modern skepticism, that should sound familiar.

Bishop Irenaeus was on the front lines in the Church’s battle against this virulent heresy. He decided that the Millennium mentioned in The Apocalypse must actually entail a prophecy of a physical reign of Christ here on earth. He believed that this thousand years of peace on earth would occur after the second advent. He understood that this view of the Millennium would be a forceful argument against the Gnostic’s refusal to admit the possibility of the Incarnation. A physical Millennium would be a convincing proof that the physical world was not totally evil and incapable of redemption, as Gnosticism claimed. It could be argued from the Millennium that Christ was pure, even though He was fully divine and fully human at the same time. The orthodox belief has always been that the Incarnation was the salvation of the physical realm. A corporeal Millennium could be strong proof of that.

But the rest of the Church determined that Irenaeus had gone one step too far in his attempt to defend the orthodox view of the Incarnation. In reading The Apocalypse as though it taught the promise of a future corporeal kingdom, he had stepped outside the deposit of Faith that had been handed down from the Apostles. Simply put, this Millennium could not be reconciled with Christ’s original teaching. In fact, this view of The Apocalypse led to the rejection of its canonicity in the Eastern Church until it was affirmed that this was not integral to the book’s message. The Church continued to affirm its belief in the unity of the physical and spiritual in the God-Man, Jesus Christ. It never hesitated to teach the physical return of Christ at the final eschaton. It lovingly clung to Christ’s teaching concerning the Eucharist. But the Church adamantly rejected Irenaeus’s novel teaching of a physical Millennium here on earth after the second coming.

What does this have to do with the resurgence of the rapturist movement in twenty-first-century America? Once, while still a Protestant, I made friends with a European theologian. He could not understand why premillennialism was such a potent force in the United States. After all, most of the rest of the Evangelical Protestant world outside the United States found this theological system very unconvincing.

Through that friendship, I came to realize that, just as Irenaeus’s premillennialism must be understood in light of his desire to fight the anti-supernatural Gnostics, American Fundamentalist and Evangelical thought cannot be understood apart from its roots as a reaction against modern skepticism in mainline Protestantism. Around the beginning of the twentieth century, modernist theologians in the Protestant pulpits of America started questioning many of the doctrines the Gnostics rejected: the deity of the God-Man, Jesus Christ; the reality of the Resurrection; and the sure hope of Christ’s return. In the early twentieth century, Protestants began to hear from the pulpit that maybe Jesus was merely a very holy prophet, and that the Resurrection was more an illusion than a reality. The miracles of Jesus were explained away. Like the Gnostics, Protestant modernists rejected the supernatural in all its physical expressions.

Just as in Irenaeus’s day, the reaction against this heresy was a movement toward premillennialism. Darby and his followers had already formed a beachhead in America in the latter half of the nineteenth century. Rapturist premillennialism provided an answer to modern skepticism that the average parishioner could understand. The man in the pew knew what he believed about Christ, and he knew that modern skepticism smelled “off.” Rapturist premillennialism offered a seemingly orthodox alternative.

The Church recognized the common spirit shared by present-day modernists and ancient Gnostics: “[T]he Rationalists [are the] true children and inheritors of the older heretics” (PD). Unfortunately, Catholics were not immune to this virus of the mind. About the time rapturists were gaining momentum in Protestant circles, American Catholics started to flirt with modernist theology. The flirtation turned into a torrid love affair. Perhaps unwittingly, modernist Catholics flung open the doors to rapturists seeking to woo away Catholics disillusioned by skepticism.

Thankfully, the ancient battle against Gnostic skepticism was eventually won in the early Church. Premillennialism then faded away when there remained nothing against which to react. That can give us hope today. If the Church forcefully reaffirms the traditional truths of the Faith, the appeal of premillennialism will inevitably fade, just as it did in the generations following Irenaeus’s time. When the modernist heresy within the American Catholic Church is finally overcome (as it surely will be eventually), rapturism will lose much of its theological appeal to Catholics.

I believe that the first step in the reaffirmation of Christ’s Truth against modernism is to recognize modernists’ assumptions and strategy. Modernists assume that supernatural events are impossible, and they apply that assumption to the Mass, where they place all emphasis on the symbolic nature of Christ’s Body and Blood. Granted, the Eucharist is a symbol, but it is more than just a symbol: it is a sacrament, a sign that really is what it symbolizes. When loyal Catholics see the modernist assault on this part of the Mass, they usually rally to protect the deposit of Faith handed down to and through the Church.

Many Catholics, however, do not initially recognize the modernist assault on the other half of the Mass, the Liturgy of the Word. There the modernists’ strategy is the same. They deny the supernatural origin of Scripture just as they deny the supernatural nature of the Eucharist. They deny the Church’s historical teaching that the original autographs of the Bible are guaranteed to be inerrant by divine inspiration.

Hear me carefully. I am not arguing against understanding the Bible in the light of poetic, symbolic, apocalyptic, mythological, or phenomenological language. These types of language are used in the Bible and must be understood for what they are. I believe this book illustrates that I am not arguing for the Fundamentalists’ “wooden” view of inerrancy. I will gladly allow rapturists to argue for that position.

What am I proposing, then? Nothing less than a re-emphasis of the historical belief in the “intelligent inerrancy” of the holy Bible. The Church’s historical teaching is that there are no errors in what the Bible means to teach on any subject anywhere—period. Modernists deny this because it requires a supernatural understanding of the inspiration of God, and they abhor any whiff of the supernatural.

The Church has been clear and consistent in this teaching. Vatican II clearly stated that Scripture is fundamentally a revelation of God Himself, culminating in the deeds and words of our Lord Jesus Christ. “The books of both the Old and New Testaments in their entirety, with all their parts, are written under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, they have God as their author.… God chose men … so that with Him acting in them and through them, they, as true authors, consigned to writing everything and only those things which He wanted. Therefore, since everything asserted … must be held to be asserted by the Holy Spirit, it follows that the books of Scripture must be acknowledged as teaching solidly, faithfully, and without error that truth which God wanted put into sacred writings for the sake of salvation” (DV, 11).

Lest some think this is ambiguous, the council fathers assured us it is a restatement of earlier Church teaching.

What is that teaching? Modernists generally avoid asking, but we need look no further than the ecumenical council immediately before Vatican II—namely, Vatican I (1869–1870). The Fathers of the Church declared that the books of the Bible were canonical, not because “they were afterward approved by her authority, nor merely because they contain revelation without error, but because, having been written under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, they have God for their author” (DCF, II, 7). The fact that revelation in Scripture is error-free is mentioned in an almost off-handed manner, as though no competent Catholic would question it. The inerrant nature of the Bible has a supernatural foundation: God is the author of Scripture.

Pius XII’s pontificate (1939–1958) helped implement the teaching of Vatican I, and his writings serve as a basis for understanding the fathers of Vatican II. Pope Pius XII chided those who sought to “restrict the truth of Sacred Scripture solely to matters of faith and morals.… In Scripture divine things are presented to us in the manner which is in common use among men … so the words of God, expressed in human language, are made like to human speech in every respect, except error” (DAS). That effectively closes the door on modernists who try to parse the words of Vatican II (cf. PDG and SPA)!

The Church makes clear that this teaching does not ignore the use of figurative, poetic, phenomenological, or apocalyptic language. “In demonstrating and proving its immunity from all error, [the commentator] should … determine … to what extent the manner of expression or the literary mode adopted by the Sacred writer may lead to a correct and genuine interpretation.… When some persons reproachfully charge the Sacred Writers with some historical error or inaccuracy in the recording of facts, on closer examination it turns out to be nothing else than those customary modes of expression and narration peculiar to the ancients … sanctioned by common usage” (DAS). In other words, we must be intelligent in our examination of Scripture and its inerrancy.

In this, Pope Pius XII reiterated a point St. Thomas Aquinas had expounded: “The author of the Scriptures is God.… We must not forget that the literal meaning of a parable or figure of speech is not the figure of speech itself but what it is used to say. When Scripture talks of God’s arm, it is not literally attributing a bodily limb to God but that which an arm represents: power to act. With this proviso we can say that the literal meaning of Scripture is never in error” (SUM, 4).

Modernists often try to use a straw man to attack the Church’s historical teaching about inerrancy. They try to interpret a parable or poetic text in woodenly literalistic fashion and then mock this interpretation as untenable, uninformed, and anti-intellectual. Yet the Church has always taught “intelligent inerrancy.”

Pope Pius XII offers an enlightening contrast that illustrates what the Church teaches. He states that the Latin Vulgate (a translation) was affirmed by the Church “to be free from any error whatsoever in matters of faith and morals.… Its authenticity is … juridical.” In contrast, when approaching the original autographs of Scripture (which are not translations), it is “absolutely wrong and forbidden either to narrow inspiration to certain passages of Holy Scripture or to admit that the sacred writer has erred” (DAS). In other words, the Vulgate is trustworthy for faith and morals, but the original texts of the Bible are without any error whatsoever. The contrast in the different levels of reliability is clear. Yet modernists persist in their attempts to lower the perception of the Bible’s reliability to the level of the Latin Vulgate: “juridical.”

Why do some modernist Catholics persist in claiming errors exist in Scripture if the Church has denied them that avenue? Much of it seems to stem from the desire for scholarly acceptance of one’s work by one’s peers. The emergence of modernism among Catholic scholars came only after Protestantism had almost entirely been infected with modernist assumptions. The anti-supernatural presuppositions within the historical critical method affect all of its related critical methods. These include form criticism, source criticism, and redaction criticism—all grouped as “higher criticism.”

There is some credible evidence that the historical critical method originated with Islamic scholars who were attempting to discredit the Bible’s miraculous account of the life of Christ. (Islam, of course, views Christ as merely a holy prophet.) Modernist Protestants started to employ the historical critical method in earnest during the end of the nineteenth century and the first half of the twentieth. Catholic scholars eventually succumbed to the zeitgeist (“spirit of the times”) within academia—learning the method from Protestant scholars.

The Church, however, forcefully resisted the skepticism innate within the historical critical method from its very onset: “There has arisen … an inept method, dignified by the name of the ‘higher criticism,’ which pretends to judge of the origin, integrity, and authority of each book from internal indications alone” (PD).

Of course, some modernists would respond that the Church should simply butt out of this debate. They would claim that they feel hindered by the Magisterium’s guidance. They would assert that true scholarship can occur only in the absence of faith. But they forget that theological and biblical studies in the absence of the Church’s Faith immediately degenerate into a mere study of the philosophy of religion.

Biblical Judaism certainly understood the need to interpret Holy Scripture in harmony with the leadership of God’s people. We can see this in Matthew 2:1–12. (We looked at this passage in GR1.) Matthew relates how the Jews predicted the place of Messiah’s birth by referencing Micah 5:2. From our perspective, it is relatively obvious that Micah’s prophecy was fulfilled in the birth of Jesus.

But at the time the prophecy was actually fulfilled, the situation was a tad more opaque, and even the morally bankrupt Herod understood that the study of the Bible was sometimes complex and beyond the limitations of any single person. Placing great importance on the predicted location of the baby King, he immediately called on the leadership of God’s people for the proper interpretation of God’s prophecy (Matt. 2:7). Although he was certainly an evil man, he understood that isolated interpreters can easily fall into error.

During the Old Covenant, the chief priests and scribes Herod interviewed held the position of authority in interpretation. Jesus acknowledged as much three decades later when He said, “The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat; so practice and observe whatever they tell you” (Matt. 23:2–3).

Of course, Jesus did not leave this authority with the leadership of old Israel. Ekklesia is the word that the Old Testament Septuagint used to refer to Israel as the “People of God” (BFB, 190). Jesus applied this word to His Church and then put His disciples into the places of leadership over His new people of God (Matt. 16:18–19). His disciples argued over the pecking order of the new Church leadership, but they never seemed to doubt that the leadership itself had been delegated to them. The God-given teaching authority of those men who are successors of the first Apostles is called the Magisterium.

Like Herod in Matthew’s account, we need to consult the leadership of God’s people when we try to understand Scripture. It is not enough to claim that by being knowledgeable or degreed or studious or holy, we are protected from error in our understanding of the Bible. For we can misunderstand Bible prophecy even when it is being fulfilled right before our eyes. Jesus told His disciples that John the Baptist was the greatest of the Old Testament prophets: “Among those born of women there has risen no one greater than John the Baptist; yet he who is least in the kingdom of Heaven is greater than he.” Then He let them in on a secret: John’s ministry was the fulfillment of the return of Elijah that had been prophesied in the Old Testament: “If you are willing to accept it, he is Elijah, who is to come” (Matt. 11:11–14).

Jesus tells His disciples much the same thing in Matthew 17:9–13, which follows the Transfiguration. He was referring to the well-known prophecy of Malachi 4:5: “Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes.” The entire Jewish nation of the first century seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for Elijah to come and prepare the way for the Messiah. Jesus said that John the Baptist was this prophet.

Yet some of Jesus’ disciples had earlier been disciples of John. They had probably been present when John had answered the questions of the Jewish leaders. “The Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask [John], ‘Who are you?… Are you Elijah?’ He said, ‘I am not’ ” (John 1:19, 21). Although Jesus claimed John was Elijah, John had denied it!

The best way to reconcile these two passages is to admit that John did not have a clear understanding of how the Old Testament prophecies were being fulfilled. The fulfillment was not just happening before his very eyes; he was a central player in the drama! We must never forget that it is very difficult to study Scripture, especially prophecy, in isolation from God’s ordained leadership. This was true even for a man as holy as John the Baptist.

Some Catholics seem to think that they can use the historical critical method (higher criticism) on the Old Testament without affecting belief in the Gospel. Modernist Protestants proved the naiveté of that idea long ago. What is used on one part of Scripture will inevitably be used on all. In the case of higher criticism, the result more often than not is the undermining of true faith.

The four Gospels are a special case. Although all of Scripture is without error, the Church defines the nature of the Gospels more specifically. Not only are the Gospels without error whatsoever; they are to be understood as reliable history. Thus, the Church emphatically closes the door on the modern idea that there might be a “historical Jesus” who must be unearthed from the Gospel accounts of the “Christ of faith.” The Church further defines the authorship of the four Gospels as “apostolic.”

Unfortunately, this clear teaching of the Church is too often ignored in America. Let me give you an example. To question the historical reliability of the Gospels stands in direct opposition to what Vatican II specifically teaches. Yet I have heard many Catholic homilies suggesting that the Gospels are historically unreliable for various reasons. One criticized the accuracy of the Gospels because they speak of the “brothers” of Christ.

The obvious conclusion may sound rather harsh. This homilist had received such poor training in the seminary that he did not know what you may already know: that the word brother in Hebrew could just as easily mean “uncle” or “cousin.” The most elementary search of a Bible concordance will substantiate this. This is why the culture and language of the writer must be understood when interpreting Scripture. (My book Born Fundamentalist, Born Again Catholic discusses this at some length.)

Yet it seems as if, when this priest was in training, no one explained the Hebrew culture and language to him and his fellow seminarians. My guess is that his professors took the easy way out: any time they did not understand something in the Bible, they assumed it was an error. But it becomes all too easy to assume that the Bible is mistaken when the real problem is that we are too lazy to work at understanding it. It takes very little work to point out “errors” in the Bible; it makes a person sound so intelligent and sophisticated without any labor. It is hard work to delve below the surface of the text, do some research, and substantiate the Church’s historical teaching.

The Church teaches us there are no errors in Scripture. Modern skeptics claim there are errors and inconsistencies. It really boils down to a simple issue: who is more to be trusted? Is my own intellect or the wisdom of modernist scholars to be trusted fully, or should I submit my intellect to the spiritual authority of its Maker? As St. Augustine wrote, “God wished difficulties to be scattered through the Sacred Books inspired by Him, in order that we might be urged to read and scrutinize them more intently, and experiencing in a salutary manner our own limitations, we might be exercised in due submission of mind” (EPT).

Rather than take the easy solution of accusing the Bible of an error, St. Augustine proposed the following in a letter to St. Jerome: “If in these books I meet anything which seems contrary to truth, I shall not hesitate to conclude either that the text is faulty, or that the translator has not expressed the meaning of the passage, or that I myself do not understand” (EPI, 1:3). This threefold admission of human frailty—copyist error, translation error, and personal inability to understand God’s thoughts—is an example of true intellectual humility from one of the greatest minds in history.

As students of Scripture, our first goal must be to “clarify the true meaning of Scripture” (SME). As St. Jerome wrote, “The office of a commentator is to set forth, not what he himself would prefer, but what his author says.” When that is done, rather than take the easy way out by accusing the Holy Writ of an error, it is our job “to find a satisfactory solution, which will be in full accord with the doctrine of the Church, in particular with the traditional teaching regarding the inerrancy of Sacred Scripture” (DAS).

Am I making too much of our Catholic view of Scripture? No, I am not. Does this issue really cause people to leave the Church and join the rapturists? Yes, it does.

I speak from experience. Before I became Catholic, I actually encouraged people to leave the Church over just these issues. When I served as a Fundamentalist missionary, my job description included teaching classes on how to get your friends and acquaintances to convert to rapturist Christianity. It is a false dichotomy, but when faced with accepting a reliable Church or a reliable Bible, many will choose the reliable Bible. That false dichotomy has caused Catholics to doubt the Church’s authority.

There are many sincere Catholics who have experienced the risen Christ in their lives. Then they have been in the pew when the homilist called the Real Presence into doubt. Or they have heard a theologian explain the miracles of Jesus in simplistic, naturalistic terms. Or they have read an otherwise loyal Catholic catechist call into question the historical reliability of the Gospel narrative. A devout Catholic instinctively understands, even if he is unable to explain why, that a denial of the reliability of the Scriptures undermines the Church’s authority. The rapturists’ wholehearted belief in the supernatural inspiration and complete reliability of the Bible is a major reason people find rapturist theology so appealing. Remember, that was the lesson we gleaned from St. Irenaeus’s arguments with the Gnostics.

The average Catholic in America may be undereducated in his Faith, but he is certainly not stupid. He knows that if the small miracles recorded in the Gospels were made up and inserted by the early Church, there is no compelling reason to believe in big supernatural events, such as the Resurrection. The idea of an Incarnation is much more miraculous than finding a coin in a fish’s mouth (Matt. 17:26). The average Catholic knows in his heart that, without the supernatural, apostolic succession and even Catholicism itself is a fraud. When the Catholic teacher, deacon, or priest takes on the role of a modernist skeptic, he drives the devout into the waiting arms of the Protestant rapturists. Believe me, if Catholic modernists open the door, rapturists will gladly put out the welcome mat.

As Catholics, we must recognize the modernist heresy for what it is: an attempt to pervert both halves of the Mass. Modern skepticism is really not all that different from the early heresies that the early saints spilled their blood to refute. Our struggle with modern skepticism will not be easy, but it will be worth it. We must answer the unremitting assault on the Liturgy of the Eucharist and the Liturgy of the Word. Until we do, sincere Catholics who really believe in the supernatural message of Christ will continue to gravitate to places where they can be sure the supernatural will not be denied. Unfortunately for them, they will find less of the supernatural there than they suppose.