Catholicism made me Protestant

Like all accounts of God’s faithfulness, mine begins with a genealogy. In the late seventeenth century, my mother’s Congregationalist ancestors journeyed to the New World to escape what they saw as England’s deadly compromise with Romanism. Centuries later, American Presbyterians converted my father’s great-grandmother from Coptic Orthodoxy to Protestantism. Her son became a Presbyterian minister in the Evangelical Coptic Church. By the time my parents were living in twenty-first-century Illinois, their families’ historic Reformed commitments had been replaced by non-denominational, Baptistic evangelicalism.

This form of Christianity dominated my Midwestern hometown. My parents taught me to love God, revere the Scriptures, and seek truth through reason. In middle school, my father introduced me to theology, and as a present for my sixteenth birthday he arranged a meeting between me and a Catholic philosopher, Dr. B—. From high school into college, Dr. B— introduced me to Catholic thought and graciously helped me work through my doubts about Christianity. How could a just and loving God not reveal himself equally to everyone? What are we to make of the Bible’s creation stories and flood narrative? Did Calvinism make God the author of evil? My acquaintance with Dr. B— set my intellectual trajectory for several years.

The causes of any conversion (or near conversion) are many and confused. Should I foreground psychological and social factors or my theological reasoning? Certain elements of my attraction to Catholicism were adolescent, like a sixties radical’s attraction to Marx or a contemporary activist’s to intersectionality: I aimed to preserve the core beliefs of my upbringing while fleeing their bourgeois expressions. When I arrived at the University of Chicago, I knew just enough about Calvinism to hold it in contempt—which is to say, I knew very little. Reacting against the middle-aged leaders of the inaptly named “Young, Restless, and Reformed Movement,” I sought refuge in that other great Western theological tradition: Roman Catholicism.

During my first year of college, I became involved in campus Catholic life. Through the influence of the Catholic student group and the Lumen Christi Institute, which hosts lectures by Catholic intellectuals, my theologically inclined college friends began converting to Catholicism, one after another. These friends were devout, intelligent, and schooled in Christian history. I met faithful and holy Catholic priests—one of whom has valiantly defended the faith for years, drawing punitive opposition from his own religious superiors, as well as the ire of Chicago’s archbishop. This priest was and is to me the very model of a holy, righteous, and courageous man.

I loved Catholicism because Catholics taught me to love the Church. At Lumen Christi events, I heard about saints and mystics, stylites and monastics, desert fathers and late-antique theologians. I was captivated by the holy martyrs, relics, Mary, and the Mass. I found in the Church a spiritual mother and the mother of all the faithful. Through Catholicism, I came into an inheritance: a past of saints and redeemed sinners from all corners of the earth, theologians who illuminated the deep things of God, music and art that summon men to worship God “in the beauty of holiness,” and a tradition to ground me in a world of flux.

Catholicism, which I took to be the Christianity of history, was a world waiting to be discovered. I set about exploring, and I tried to bring others along. I debated tradition with my mother, sola Scriptura with my then fiancée (now wife), and the meaning of the Eucharist with my father. On one occasion, a Reformed professor dispensed with my arguments for transubstantiation in a matter of minutes.

Not long after this, I began to notice discrepancies between Catholic apologists’ map of the tradition and the terrain I encountered in the tradition itself. St. Ambrose’s doctrine of justification sounded a great deal more like Luther’s sola fide than like Trent. St. John Chrysostom’s teaching on repentance and absolution—“Mourn and you annul the sin”—would have been more at home in Geneva than Paris. St. Thomas’s doctrine of predestination, much to my horror, was nearly identical to the Synod of Dordt’s. The Anglican divine Richard Hooker quoted Irenaeus, Chrysostom, Augustine, and Pope Leo I as he rejected doctrines and practices because they were not grounded in Scripture. He cited Pope Gregory the Great on the “ungodly” title of universal bishop. The Council of Nicaea assumed that Alexandria was on a par with Rome, and Chalcedon declared that the Roman patriarchate was privileged only “because [Rome] was the royal city.” In short, I began to wonder whether the Reformers had a legitimate claim to the Fathers. The Church of Rome could not be straightforwardly identified as catholic.

John Henry Newman became my crucial interlocutor: More than in Ratzinger, Wojtyła, or Congar, in Newman I found a kindred spirit. Here was a man obsessed with the same questions that ate at me, questions of tradition and authority. With Newman, I agonized over conversion. I devoured his Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine and his Apologia pro Vita Sua. Two of his ideas were pivotal for me: his theory of doctrinal development and his articulation of the problem of private judgment. On these two ideas hung all the claims of Rome.

In retrospect, I see that Newman’s need to construct a theory of doctrinal development tells against Rome’s claims of continuity with the ancient Church. And at the time, though I wished to accept Newman’s proposal that “the early condition, and the evidence, of each doctrine . . . ought consistently to be interpreted by means of that development which was ultimately attained,” I could not. One could only justify such assumptions if one were already committed to Roman Catholic doctrine and Rome’s meaningful continuity with what came before. Without either of these commitments, I simply could not find a plausible reason to speak of “development” rather than “disjuncture,” especially because what came before so often contradicted what followed.

The issue of ecclesiastical authority was trickier for me. I recognized the absurdity of a twenty-year-old presuming to adjudicate claims about the Scriptures and two thousand years of history. Newman’s arguments against private judgment therefore had a prima facie plausibility for me. In his Apologia, Newman argues that man’s rebellion against God introduced an “anarchical condition of things,” leading human thought toward “suicidal excesses.” Hence, the fittingness of a divinely established living voice infallibly proclaiming supernatural truths. In his discourse on “Faith and Private Judgment,” Newman castigates Protestants for refusing to “surrender” reason in matters religious. The implication is that reason is unreliable in matters of revelation. Faith is assent to the incontestable, self-evident truth of God’s revelation, and reasoning becomes an excuse to refuse to bend the knee.

The more I internalized Newman’s claims about private judgment, however, the more I descended into skepticism. I could not reliably interpret the Scriptures, history, or God’s Word preached and given in the sacraments. But if I could not do these things, if my reason was unfit in matters religious, how was I to assess Newman’s arguments for Roman Catholicism? Newman himself had once recognized this dilemma, writing in a pre-conversion letter, “We have too great a horror of the principle of private judgment to trust it in so immense a matter as that of changing from one communion to another.” Did he expect me to forfeit the faculty by which I adjudicate truth claims, because that faculty is fallible? My conversion would have to be rooted in my private judgment—but, because of Rome’s claim of infallibility, conversion would forbid me from exercising that faculty ever again on doctrinal questions.

Finally, the infighting among traditionalist, conservative, and liberal Catholics made plain that Catholics did not gain by their magisterium a clear, living voice of divine authority. They received from the past a set of magisterial documents that had to be weighed and interpreted, often over against living prelates. The magisterium of prior ages only multiplied the texts one had to interpret for oneself, for living bishops, it turns out, are as bad at reading as the rest of us.

But I did not remain a Protestant merely because I could not become a Catholic. While I was discovering that Roman Catholicism could not be straightforwardly identified with the catholicism of the first six centuries (nor, in certain respects, with that of the seventh century through the twelfth), and as I was wrestling with Newman, I finally began reading the Reformers. What I found shocked me. Catholicism had, by this time, reoriented my theological concerns around the concerns of the Church catholic. My assumptions, and the issues that animated me, were those of the Church of history. My evangelical upbringing had led me to believe that Protestantism entailed the rejection of these concerns. But this notion exploded upon contact with the Protestantism of history.

Martin Luther, John Calvin, Richard Hooker, Herman Bavinck, Karl Barth—they wrestled with the concerns of the Church catholic and provided answers to the questions Catholicism had taught me to pose. Richard Hooker interpreted the Church’s traditions; Calvin followed Luther’s Augustinianism, proclaimed the visible Church the mother of the faithful, and claimed for the Reformation the Church’s exegetical tradition; Barth convinced me that God’s Word could speak, certainly and surely, from beyond all created realities, to me.

Catholicism had taught me to think like a Protestant, because, as it turned out, the Reformers had thought like catholics. Like their pope-aligned opponents, they had asked questions about justification, the authority of tradition, the mode of Christ’s self-gift in the Eucharist, the nature of apostolic succession, and the Church’s wielding of the keys. Like their opponents, Protestants had appealed to Scripture and tradition. In time, I came to find their answers not only plausible, but more faithful to Scripture than the Catholic answers, and at least as well-represented in the traditions of the Church.

The Protestants did more than out-catholic the Catholics. They also spoke to the deepest needs of sinful souls. I will never forget the moment when, like Luther five hundred years earlier, I discovered justification by faith alone through union with Christ. I was sitting in my dorm room by myself. I had been assigned Luther’s Explanations of the Ninety-Five Theses, and I expected to find it facile. A year or two prior, I had decided that Trent was right about justification: It was entirely a gift of grace consisting of the gradual perfecting of the soul by faith and works—God instigating and me cooperating. For years, I had attempted to live out this model of justification. I had gone to Mass regularly, prayed the rosary with friends, fasted frequently, read the Scriptures daily, prayed earnestly, and sought advice from spiritual directors. I had begun this arduous cooperation with God’s grace full of hope; by the time I sat in that dorm room alone, I was distraught and demoralized. I had learned just how wretched a sinner I was: No good work was unsullied by pride, no repentance unaccompanied by expectations of future sin, no love free from selfishness.

In this state, I picked up my copy of that arch-heretic Luther and read his explanation of Thesis 37: “Any true Christian, whether living or dead, participates in all the blessings of Christ and the church; and this is granted him by God, even without indulgence letters.” With these words, Luther transformed my understanding of justification: Every Christian possesses Christ, and to possess Christ is to possess all of Christ’s righteousness, life, and merits. Christ had joined me to himself.

I had “put on Christ” in baptism and, by faith through the work of the Spirit, all things were mine, and I was Christ’s, and Christ was God’s (Gal. 3:27; 1 Cor. 3:21–23). His was not an uncertain mercy; his was not a grace of parts, which one hoped would become a whole; his was not a salvation to be attained, as though it were not already also a present possession. At that moment, the joy of my salvation poured into my soul. I wept and showed forth God’s praise. I had finally discovered the true ground and power of Protestantism: “My beloved is mine, and I am his” (Song 2:16).

What is missing in all these discussions about works and faith is the Catholic's understanding of the new birth and the new nature. Catholicism focuses on the works and the outward activities, and has no concept of receiving a new nature through the new birth, on that does not want to sin, one that wants to please God, one that is Christlike and Spirit directed.

Actually in RC theology justification is because one receives a new nature, (Titus 3:5) imagining that the act itself ( ex opere operato) of baptism (even without the Scriptural requirement of penitential faith: Acts 2:38; 8:36,37) effects regeneration which "infuses” charity into the soul, rendering the regenerate to be justified by his own interior righteousness due to it actually becoming good to be with God.

"when by the merit of that same most holy Passion, the charity of God is poured forth, by the Holy Spirit, in the hearts of those that are justified, and is inherent therein: whence, man, through Jesus Christ, in whom he is ingrafted, receives, in the said justification, together with the remission of sins, all these (gifts) infused at once, faith, hope, and charity." (Trent, Cp. VII)

Although the sinner is justified by the justice of Christ, inasmuch as the Redeemer has merited for him the grace of justification (causa meritoria), nevertheless he is formally justified and made holy by his own personal justice and holiness (causa formalis). (Catholic Encyclopedia> Sanctifying Grace)

But under the premise that one must actually become good enough to be with God, then since the sinful nature is all too alive after baptism and manifests itself, then unless one dies having attained to this state (we with the rare class of canonized saints), then one must suffer purifying torments in mythical RC purgatory until he becoming good enough to actually enter Heaven. (However, see "Did the New Testament church believe in Roman Catholic Purgatory?" )

Moreover, this Catholic view of justification thru sanctification was not binding before Trent. For as Newman states, that among others,

First, Bellarmine, though he quotes the words of the Tridentine Fathers, declaratory of the "unica formalis causa" of Justification (de Justif. ii. 2), does not hesitate to say that it is an open question whether grace or charity is the justice which justifies; and, though he holds for his own part that these are different names for one and the same supernatural habit, yet he allows that there are theologians who think otherwise (ibid. i. 2).

Though, then, there be but one formal cause (and there never can be more than one proper form of anything), still it is not settled precisely what that form is. We are at liberty to hold that it is, not the renewed state of the soul, but the Divine gift which renews it.- http://www.newmanreader.org/works/justification/

And in "Was The Joint Declaration Truly Justified? | An Interview with Dr. Christopher Malloy | Carl E. Olson" we read,

what is noteworthy is that at the Council of Trent, a number of theologians present held views that can readily be discerned to be "compromise" positions between a) what became Tridentine Catholic teaching and b) common elements of certain Lutheranisms--I will call the latter "traditional Lutheran teaching". By "traditional Lutheran teaching" I use a place-holder to designate one way of reading the Lutheran heritage, granting of course that many scholars argue that there are sundry and contradictory ways of reading that same heritage, some going all the way back.

Foremost among the theologians seeking a compromise at Trent was Seripando, a papal legate. At the Council, he put forth a view on justification that has been called "double justice". His position implied two formal causes of justification. He argued that the human person stands "just" before God both by his interior, infused righteousness and by Christ's own righteousness attributed to him through the acquitting favor of God.

Seripando's position had the following logical correlate: The justified person cannot truly merit eternal life and is not therefore worthy of heaven--even though God has begun to renovate him interiorly. The implication is clear: The justified person would, if judged by God, be worthy of hell. Only a few outstanding saints might be exceptions to the rule. Hence, the justified person needs yet another justice by which to be considered just--the justice of Christ, imputed to him.

The Council of Trent decidedly rejected this theory of double justice. The interior justice infused by God, together with the obedience issuing therefrom, suffice the Christian before the judgment seat of God. - http://www.ignatiusinsight.com/features2007/print2007/cmalloy_intervw_jun07.html

And pertinent to this are the words of Hardon:

The multiplicity of theological positions present within the Catholic Church. These positions vary according to which premises or postulates are used in reflecting on the sources of revelation, according to the methodology employed, and according to the cultural tradition within which theology does its speculation. On the first bases, the two principal philosophical premises are the Platonic, stressed in Augustinianaism; and the Aristotelian, emphasized in Thomism. On the second level, theologies differ in terms of their mainly biblical, or doctrinal, or historical, or pastoral methodology. And on the third basis, the culture of a people helps to shape the theology they develop, as between the more mystical East and the more practical West, or the more reflective Mediterranean and the more scientific Anglo-Saxon. The Church not only permits these diversities but encourages them, always assuming that theologians who are Catholic are also respectful of the rule of faith and obedient to the magisterium of the hierarchy under the Bishop of Rome. — Fr. John Hardon's Modern Catholic Dictionary http://www.catholicreference.net/index.cfm?id=35612

Rome actually allows for salvation by pure unmerited grace in her baptism by desire, obtained through perfect contrition (contritio caritate perfecta, which, works ex opere operantis: Catholic Encyclopedia>Sanctifying Grace), but which is something that some in her Traditional sects disagree with. Meanwhile purely unmerited justification is understood as referring to the call of God in His prevenient grace, in which

"without any merits existing on their parts, they are called; that so they, who by sins were alienated from God, may be disposed through His quickening and assisting grace, to convert themselves to their own justification, by freely assenting to and co-operating with that said grace." (Trent, Cp. V.)

"by reason of a perfect act of charity elicited by a well disposed sinner, or by virtue of the Sacrament either of Baptism or of Penance" (the latter of which can be appropriated by proxy), the justified are "really made just [righteous], and not merely declared or reputed so." (Catholic Encyclopedia>Salvation>Baptism)

Then, via the sacramental system, grace is dispensed from Rome's infinite Treasury of merit, that of Christ and of the excess merit of saints, and by cooperating with such the saved Catholic is "accounted to have, by those very works which have been done in God, fully satisfied the divine law according to the state of this life, and to have truly merited eternal life. (Trent, Cp XVI. http://history.hanover.edu/early/trent/ct06.htm)

In summary, Rome believes that initial justification is by pure grace, via interior transformation, which it usually makes dependent upon a ritual, that being baptism, which by the very act is held to effect regeneration, which thus justifies the soul due to inner holiness, which means the same must have this state at death or attain it in RC Purgatory.

In contrast to this is the heart-purifying faith behind baptism being counted for righteousness, (Acts 15:8,9) s that one is accepted in the Beloved on His account, and spiritually made to sit with Him in Heaven, and will forever be with the Lord at death or His return, whatever comes first. (Lk. 23:43 [cf. 2Cor. 12:4; Rv. 2:7]; Phil 1:23; 2Cor. 5:8 [“we”]; 1Cor. 15:51ff'; 1Thess. 4:17)

And the next transformative experience that is manifestly taught is that of being like Christ in the resurrection. (1Jn. 3:2; Rm. 8:23; 1Co 15:53,54; 2Co. 2-4)

And the next transformative experience that is manifestly taught is that of being like Christ in the resurrection. (1Jn. 3:2; Rm. 8:23; 1Co 15:53,54; 2Co. 2-4) At which time is the judgment seat of Christ, which is the only suffering after this life, which does not begin at death, but awaits the Lord's return, (1 Corinthians 4:5; 2 Timothy. 4:1,8; Revelation 11:18; Matthew 25:31-46; 1 Peter 1:7; 5:4) and is the suffering of the loss of rewards (and the Lord's displeasure) due to the manner of material one built the church with, which one is saved despite the loss of such, not because of. (1 Corinthians 3:8ff)

Under the RC means of transformational justification by sanctification, if coupled with the affirmation of Abraham being justified by works, then Abraham must have becoming born when he offered up Issac, rather than faith being imputed for righteousness when he believed God to do what he was helpless to do, though that faith meant obeying God.

RC apologists describe sola fide as merely rendering man to be a whitewashed sinner, but which is simply not true, for sola fide is that of the heart-purifying faith of the "washing of regeneration." (Titus 3:5) However,Reformed sola fide teaching holds that it is not the sanctifying effect of regeneration that is the cause of justification (though in turn, holiness and works of faith evidence/vindicate/justify one as being a believer) but imputed righteousness. (Rm. 4:5)

Note also that while Catholics generally believe that the newly baptized would go directly to Heaven if they died before they sinned, seeing as they as washed from their sins and have no more need for further expiation of sin (and dealing with that would be another chapter).

However, in RC purgatorial theology it seems being purged from sins and having no need for further atonement is enough to enter Heaven. For it is held that one must attain to complete victory over any attachment to sin and perfection of character, but which maturity regeneration does not effect, for the unholy sinful nature, which is to be reckoned dead, it all too alive.

The Catholic Encyclopedia states that St. Augustine "describes two conditions of men; "some there are who have departed this life, not so bad as to be deemed unworthy of mercy, nor so good as to be entitled to immediate happiness" etc. (City of God XXI.24.) And thus by the close of the fourth century was taught "a place of purgation..from which when purified they "were admitted unto the Holy Mount of the Lord". For " they were "not so good as to be entitled to eternal happiness". (Catholic Encyclopedia>Purgatory)

Likewise,

Every trace of attachment to evil must be eliminated, every imperfection of the soul corrected." - John Paul II, Audiences, 1999. Catholic professor Peter Kreeft states, "...we will go to Purgatory first, and then to Heaven after we are purged of all selfishness and bad habits and character faults." Peter Kreeft, Because God Is Real: Sixteen Questions, One Answer, p. 224 "The purpose of purgatory is to bring you up the level of spiritual excellence needed to experience the full-force presence of God." (Jimmy Akin, How to Explain Purgatory to Protestants).

Roman Catholics also invoke Matthew 5:48: "Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect" (Matthew 5:48) as if this exhortation to be like God was a requirement to be with God, actually presuming that that they can attain the perfection of God in this life or in RC purgatory!

Thus regeneration itself would not be sufficient for the soul to enter Heaven, and it must be imagined that men such as the contrite criminal of Lk. 23 somehow attained to perfection of character in a few hours on the cross.

In conclusion, salvation by faith means that contrite heart-purifying faith (Acts 15:9) is counted for righteousness, justifying the sinner without works, (Rm. 4:5) and while this is not to be divorced from regeneration, that does not mean that the believer has actually become good enough in his whole character to be with God, or that he must be in this life or in Purgatory. But is accepted in the Beloved on His account, and has access by His blood into the holy of holies, and will go to forever be with the Lord at death or His return, whatever comes first. (Lk. 23:43 [cf. 2Cor. 12:4; Rv. 2:7]; Phil 1:23; 2Cor. 5:8 [“we”]; 1Cor. 15:51ff'; 1Thess. 4:17)

LOL! Well, regardless of the actual number the fact is that any more than ONE is one too many, isn’t it? I mean if “truth” is indivisible, than so is right doctrine which would seem to require only one church to promulgate it!

with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. (Matthew 7:2)

If the one true church is the visible RCC which must have no divisions, then tell us which Catholic division you belong to:

Is Catholicism about to break into three?

Archbishop Viganò: We Are Witnessing Creation of a ‘New Church ’

The SSPX's Relationship with Francis: Is it Traditional? post #6

Is the Catholic Church in De Facto Schism?

The Impossibility of Judging or Deposing a True Pope...If Francis is a true Pope …

Dogmatic Fact: The One Doctrine that Proves Francis Is Pope; https://onepeterfive.com/dogmatic-fact-francis-pope/

A web site popular among “RadTrad” RCs who reject Vatican Two is https://novusordowatch.org and which sums up the situation by saying,

In response to the phenomenon of the Vatican II revolution, there are three essential lines of thought that have been proposed as “solutions” to understanding the situation. This is not now the place or time to critique or justify any of them. For now, we want to just describe them: (1) despite appearances, nothing has really substantially changed, and any interpretation of Vatican II that arrives at the conclusion that there has been a substantial change must be incorrect; (2) we must oppose (resist) these substantial changes and stick to the traditional, age-old teaching instead and ignore the Vatican II novelties while recognizing, however, that the authorities in the Vatican are legitimate and genuine Roman Catholic authorities — we just cannot agree with them on these points; (3) because it is impossible for the Catholic Church to change substantially, and because Vatican II constitutes such an impossible substantial change, it is necessary to conclude that the authority which gave us Vatican II is not in fact the legitimate Catholic authority; that is to say, the “Popes” which gave us Vatican II are not true Popes, nor are their successors, who have implemented and expanded this new religion that has its roots in the council. In fact, the entire religion that now occupies the Vatican and the official structures of the Catholic Church throughout the world is false — it is not the Catholic religion at all, and its putative authorities are not Catholics but heretical usurpers.

The first line of thought described above is often termed (not necessarily correctly) “conservative Catholic”, “orthodox Catholic”, “Novus Ordo”, “conservative Novus Ordo”, or “indult”. Prominent organizations and individuals which can be said to promote or be associated with this position would include Catholic Answers, EWTN, Fraternity of St. Peter, Institute of Christ the King, Franciscan University of Steubenville, National Catholic Register, The Wanderer, Latin Mass Magazine, Church Militant, Vericast, Fr. Kenneth Baker, Rev. John Zuhlsdorf, Karl Keating, Scott Hahn, Michael Voris, Tim Staples, Jimmy Akin, Steve Kellmeyer, Dave Armstrong, Mark Shea, and many others.

The second line of thought described above is often termed (not necessarily correctly) “traditionalist”, “traditional”, “resistance”, “recognize-and-resist” (“R&R”), or “SSPX”. Proponents of this position include the Society of St. Pius X (SSPX), Fatima Network, Tradition In Action, The Remnant, Catholic Family News, TradCatKnight, Bp. Bernard Fellay, Bp. Richard Williamson, Rev. Paul Kramer, Rev. Nicholas Gruner, John Vennari, Michael Matt, Christopher Ferrara, Louie Verrecchio, John Salza, Robert Siscoe, Eric Gajewski, and many more. Here at Novus Ordo Watch we like to refer to this position as “recognize-and-resist”, “neo-traditionalist”, “pseudo-traditionalist”, or “semi-traditionalist”.

The third line of thought is the one we espouse at Novus Ordo Watch, and it is a theological position known as “Sedevacantism”, from the Latin sede vacante, “the chair being empty”, referring to the Chair of St. Peter that is occupied by the Pope — when there is a legitimate Pope reigning. Sedevacantism is by far the least popular position, the “black sheep” no one wants to be “tainted” with. Besides Novus Ordo Watch, other groups or individuals who promote or share this position include True Restoration, the Congregation of Mary Immaculate Queen (CMRI), Istituto Mater Boni Consilii, Sodalitium, Daily Catholic, The Four Marks newspaper, Bp. Geert Stuyver, Bp. Donald Sanborn, Bp. Mark Pivarunas, Bp. Clarence Kelly, Fr. Anthony Cekada, Fr. Michael Oswalt, Fr. William Jenkins, John Daly, Thomas Droleskey, Stephen Heiner, John Lane, Michael Cain, Mario Derksen, Griff Ruby, Steve Speray, and others.

As for the term “Novus Ordo”, in its most general application it simply refers to the new, pseudo-Catholic religion of Vatican II described above.... To be clear: We adhere fully to the Magisterium of the Roman Catholic Church from her founding in 33 A.D. by the Blessed Lord Jesus Christ through the death of the last known Pope, Pius XII, on October 9, 1958. We are Roman Catholics. - https://novusordowatch.org/start-here/

Then we have a more charitable description:

It is certainly possible to discern three tribes within American Catholicism. However, using the Jewish terminology is confusing. “Orthodox,” “Conservative,” and “Reform” do not translate well into American Catholicism. Clearer titles for the three tribes might be “Traditionalist” which correlates with the Jewish “Orthodox.” “Magisterial” because “conservative” Catholics adhere to papal teachings and the magisterium, while “Progressive” reflects the “Reformed” group in Judaism....

Broadly speaking, “Traditionalists” adhere to the Extraordinary Form of the Mass, the Baltimore Catechism, and Church teachings from before the Second Vatican Council...

“Magisterial” Catholics put loyalty to the authority of the pope and magisterial teaching first and foremost. They are happy with the principles of the Second Vatican Council, but want to “Reform the Reform.” They want to celebrate the Novus Ordo Mass with solemnity, reverence, and fine music. ..They uphold traditional Catholic teaching in faith and morals, but wish to communicate and live these truths in an up-to-date and relevant way...

The “Progressives” are vitally interested in peace and justice issues. They’re enthusiastic about serving the marginalized and working for institutional change. They are likely to embrace freer forms of worship, dabble in alternative spiritualities, and be eager to make the Catholic faith relevant and practical. Progressives believe the Church should adapt to the modern age... Maguire sums up their attitude pretty well: Progressives “don’t need the Vatican. Their conscience is their Vatican.” - Is Catholicism about to break into three? Crux Catholic Media Inc. ^ | Oct 6, 2015 | Fr. Dwight Longenecker; http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-religion/3778496/posts

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