By ALFREDO FLOREZ.
LAST July 1, the day annually dedicated by the Roman Catholic Church to the “Most Precious Blood of Jesus Christ,” I mounted the Roman Catholic altar and for the last time said mass as a Roman Catholic priest. At each mass that day, I preached a short sermon about the blood of Christ, the sacrifice of Christ on the cross, and declared to my Roman Catholic congregations that Christ’s sacrifice on Calvary was sufficient for the remission of all sin, once for all, that through His death He gave us His righteousness which justifies forever those who believe in Christ. From a Roman Catholic pulpit I declared the Roman Catholic mass was a mockery of the true Gospel of Christ; the gospel which sets men free; the gospel which the Church of Rome cannot accept.
Less than nine hours after that mass, by pre-arrangement with Christ’s Mission, I was met in New York by a representative of the Mission and taken to his home for lodging. On July 1, 1951, I voluntarily left the Roman Catholic Church and its priesthood in order to serve the God-Man who shed His blood to save me. How symbolic that I left the Church of Rome on the very day they set aside to honour that blood. Now, I see the hand of the Lord, not only in leading me to Christ’s Mission, but also in leading me through my life in preparation for this step.
I was born June 22, 1914, in Urabamba, a small city in Cuzco, Peru, into a humble family of five. As soon as I was able to read, I craved books, but had access to just a few, as reading material is very expensive in Peru. I cannot remember the circumstances now, but when I was a child, my mother purchased a Bible for me to read, because it was available at a most reasonable price. The more I read the life of Jesus as
*Reprinted from October, 1951, issue of The Converted Catholic, a magazine edited by former Roman Catholic priests; and published at 160 Fifth Avenue, New York. We reproduce the article by Editor’s permission.—Editor.
recorded in the inspired Word, the more fascinated I became, and many hours of family life were enriched by my recounting the marvellous stories I read about Jesus. Great was my surprise when I discovered the history of Christ was written in four different ways, and realised its richness and wealth.
I BURNED MY BIBLE.
Unfortunately, all these things were changed when I left my home and joined the Roman Catholic order of the Mercedaries and entered their monastery in Cuzco. One of my first religious acts of obedience was to burn my Bible, because it was a Protestant version. Roman Catholics are strictly forbidden to read a Protestant version of the Bible although there is little variation between the two when the Roman Catholic notes are ignored. However, I was not offered a Catholic substitute for the Bible I burned, so with a spiritual thirst, I began to study the Roman Catholic catechisms and other religious books. Year by year I studied: High School, Philosophy for three years, and Theology for four years. In 1935, I left the monastery in order to continue my studies at the Roman Catholic seminary of Arequipa, Peru. There I completed my theological courses, and on May 23, 1937, in Arequipa, was ordained a priest in the Church of Rome by the former Bishop Mariano Aolguin. From that time until 1943, I taught Greek, Holy Scripture, and Latin in the Seminary.
During this period I constantly doubted different points of Roman Catholic doctrine and philosophy. Many of their teachings were unacceptable to me, and seemed to have very little, if any, historical, philosophical or scriptural foundation. However, my acceptance of the authority and infallibility of the Pope, the Roman Catholic Church and their General Councils was my strongest and last refuge in the storm of doubt and anxiety. Naturally, I did not refer to the Bible to solve these theological problems, because the more I studied the Bible, the more doubtful and confused I became.
PRESCRIBED v. PROSCRIBED EDUCATION.
In 1943, without the knowledge of my Bishop and even at the end of the first year, against his expressed prohibition, I became a registered student in the National University of Arequipa. I deliberately defied his wishes, because I knew that according to the rules of the Holy See it was hopeless for me to obtain permission to study at a non-sectarian university. Just as Roman Catholic parents are instructed to send their children to parochial schools, Roman Catholic bishops are not permitted to allow their clergy to attend any but Roman Catholic universities.
Such a ruling of the Holy See is a necessary one to keep their clergy in darkness. For while studying at this secular university, where the metaphysical theories of all the great philosophical thinkers were taught so freely, I also began to think outside of prescribed Roman Catholic philosophy. I could see the narrowness and fallacies in many Roman Catholic theories. But, such studies were too dangerous for Roman Catholic religious faith, a faith that can only be retained by ignorance of other kinds of thought.
At the end of two years of study at the secular university, I was appointed Roman Catholic pastor of a church in Taruta, Peru. Both in this parish and in my former parishes in Sabandia and Paucarpate the
people were not faithful to their church and its teachings. This condition is prevalent in Roman Catholic parishes in South America. In November, 1947, with the permission of my former Bishop Carlos A. Arce Masis, I matriculated at the Ecclesiastical University of Comillas, Spain. Under the tutelage of these famous Jesuit scholars, I obtained my Bachelor of Canon Law degree. During my student days at the University of Comillas, I read for the first time the New Testament in the original Greek and Latin. This perusal brought forth many doubts about the Roman Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation, the belief of the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist. The following verses particularly captured my attention:
“It is the spirit that quickeneth; the flesh profiteth nothing: the words that I speak unto you, they are spirit, and they are life” (John vi. 63).
“But I say unto you, I will not drink henceforth of this fruit of the vine, until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom” (Matt. xxvi. 29).
I discussed this point of doctrine with many of my fellow priests, and none could give me a satisfactory logical or scriptural explanation. Through the pages of this magazine, I anticipate discussing from time to time this and other fallacious Catholic doctrines.
MORE CATHOLIC STUDY.
Towards the end of 1948 I came to New York, tired and disgusted with the deceptive Roman Catholic religious life in the University. My diocese in Peru refused me any financial support to continue my studies, and when I applied to the New York diocese, I was rudely denied any assistance except a return ticket to Peru. “Go home,” they ordered, “you have no money for your studies. Your bishop needs priests in Peru.”
But I did not obey the New York diocese, as my Bishop had granted me permission to finish my second year of Canon Law, and I was determined to do so. For the three months of the summer 1949, I sweated in the New York City heat with a secular position I had been able to secure because of my knowledge of Spanish. Some of my Spanish-speaking Roman Catholic friends also gave me financial assistance, so that in September of that year I was just financially able to matriculate at the Roman Catholic University of Ottawa, Canada.
I must confess that, even during that trying summer, I fell in love with the United States. I don’t know why, although its brilliant feats of engineering, its glorious pioneering spirit, and its practised freedom of religion and thought all contributed to my feeling. But now, I say it was the work of God, for had it not been for these United States, I would have found no one to help me leave the priesthood, no one to give me the message of the assurance of salvation.
MY DOUBTS INCREASE.
During my year at the University of Ottawa, I read the New Testament through twice in English. While reading the Epistle to the Hebrews ix. 27, 28: “And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment; so Christ was once offered to bear the sins of many; and
unto them that look for him shall he appear the second time without sin unto salvation.” I asked myself: “If Christ died once, as men die only once, what happens in the sacrifice of the mass? Could there be sacrifice without the death of the victim?”
I discussed this question with a classmate of mine, a brilliant priest now a student in Rome. He answered that Christ really dies in the mass, but a mystical death. For me such an explanation was merely a juggling of terms, for no one in the Catholic Church can explain “mystical death.” It could have been more convenient for the Roman Catholic Church to have defined the mass as a mere symbol or remembrance of the Last Supper and the death of Christ according to the words of the Holy Scripture. But now it is too late, for Rome, it boasts, never changes.
I graduated in September, 1950, Magna Cum Laude, with the degree of Licentiate in Canon Law from the Catholic University of Ottawa. I returned to New York, and the Bishop of Brooklyn, at my request, appointed me an Assistant priest in St. Anne’s Church of Brentwood, Long Island. I worked there from October 27, 1950, until the day I left the priesthood, July 1, 1951. Materially speaking, I was most comfortable, but spiritually speaking, I was starving and dissatisfied. When not performing my priestly duties, I diligently and carefully studied the Roman Catholic doctrines. But my religious doubts were constantly increasing rather than diminishing. I did not feel any progress in my personal spiritual life, and recognised myself in a worse spiritual condition than two years before. Upon taking personal spiritual inventory, I decided that with all my courage I would seek the true gospel outside the Roman Catholic Church. This decision was made with the full knowledge that in so doing I was committing the most grave and mortal sin.
A BIG KEY FROM A LOCKSMITH.
A day in May, 1951, stands out singularly in my memory. As an Assistant in the Church of Brentwood, I needed keys to open certain doors in the parochial school, where each Friday night bingo games take place. The pastor, Father Thomas Conesty, sent me to the nearby town of Bay Shore to obtain these keys. In conversation with the locksmith, I found he was not a Roman Catholic, but an ardent Protestant, and subscriber to The Converted Catholic Magazine. The Lord laid it upon his heart to detect my disillusionment with Roman Catholic doctrine and to give me an advertising folder about Christ’s Mission. I do not remember the name of that man, but I trust he will recognise my picture and write to me as I would like to personally thank him for the part he played in my conversion.
I accepted the folder, and although I had no intention of ever contacting Christ’s Mission, for some reason I placed it in my pocket with certain valuable papers I always kept on my person. It was the working of God that I did not put it in another pocket where I could carelessly have thrown it away. Around the time of my visit to the locksmith, I also received a communication from my Bishop, calling me back to Peru because of the lack of priests in his diocese. He set the month of August, 1951, as the final date for my return.
DOORWAY TO LIBERTY.
My time of freedom in the United States was short, so it was necessary for me to act quickly. I entered the offices of Christ’s Mission and queried the receptionist about the work of the Mission and its religious affiliations. E. Van B. Kelly, the Executive Secretary, was there and discussed my spiritual condition with me and stressed that I must not leave the Roman Catholic Church without any spiritual convictions; that life without definite spiritual beliefs was like a ship sailing the stormy seas without a rudder to guide, a captain to direct. I agreed to the wisdom of that, and accepted from Christ’s Mission my second Protestant book, Truth v. Dogma. This work I diligently studied for an entire week, and it clearly showed me the scriptural fallacy of the Roman Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation. The following week I again went to Christ’s Mission and, because he was not in the office, listened to a message left for me by Dr. Montaño.
The following week, I again entered the office of Christ’s Mission, and this time was interviewed by the members of Christ’s Mission’s Executive Committees, and again discussed my spiritual convictions. The Committee promised me the necessary economic assistance and spiritual guidance if I sincerely desired to leave the Catholic Church. After prayer with them, I confessed that the last and strongest refuge in my intellectual battle was papal infallibility. I argued that the destruction of that belief shakes to shambles the Roman Catholic Church; for as a Roman Catholic author so aptly stated, “If the Pope is not the vicar of Jesus Christ, he is an impostor.”
THE LAST ILLUSION DISPELLED.
While glancing through the Mission book shelves, I saw a work by George Salmon, entitled, The Infallibility of the Church. This was the book for which I had been looking; a Catholic study of the authority and infallibility of the Pope, which I was permitted to take with me. As my soul’s salvation was at stake, I diligently sought the truth about this vital doctrine, and while reading the Protestant source, compared its statements with histories of the Church by Roman Catholic authors. I thoroughly studied the Biblical texts which the Romanists claim as their authority for the divine institution of papal infallibility. I fine-combed the Acts of the Apostles to see whether there was any sign or vestige of the recognition of this authority in apostolic times and the first years of the Christian Church. I did not rely on my own study alone, but frankly discussed this fundamental point with Father Flinn, a teacher of Church History in a Roman Catholic seminary in Brooklyn. Father Flinn could not prove, nor is anyone able to prove that the authority of the Pope was accepted everywhere and always from the time of Christ and the apostles.
As the result of all this investigation I was, and still am, firmly convinced that papal authority and infallibility are human inventions, a progressive development in which “We can trace the history of the growth of the supremacy of the Roman Bishop, exactly as in secular history we can trace the process by which the city of Rome came to exercise imperial dominion.”
Infallibility of the Church, by George Salmon, D.D. Published by James Bales. Fourth Edition, pages 366, 367.
“THE REAL THING,” AT LAST.
All the time I was so carefully studying I did not contact Christ’s Mission, but on Friday, June 28, two days before I left the Church, I went to their offices and gave them my decision. We made plans for a staff member to meet me Sunday afternoon in New York City and take me to his home for lodging. This plan was promptly executed. The following day, Christ’s Mission outfitted me with the necessary civilian clothes. This was indeed a strange situation to me. I had been in the Roman Catholic Church for many years, and when I came to New York the Roman Catholic Church would not even lift its hand to assist me. But Protestants, who knew nothing about me and had nothing personally to gain, sacrificially provided the necessities of life for me. This spirit I felt must be motivated by an inward peace and love, a peace which at that time I mentally possessed, but had not spiritually experienced.
Tuesday, July 3, a devout servant of God, Reverend Harold Bater, took me to his home in Pennsylvania, where I was to observe Christianity at work. Mr. and Mrs. Bater gave me the most hearty attention. I shall never forget those days, and particularly last Fourth of July, the day I personally realised I was justified by faith, that I was born again as a child of God, because I had accepted Christ’s death on Calvary as the sufficient atonement for my sins. I observed and lived in the most marvellous spiritual atmosphere, only possible in the fellowship of real children of God. Never before had I seen such love of God manifested through men.
True Christians are few in comparison with the multitudes of Roman Catholics, but they are the salt of the earth. Their lives testify to the truth of the Scriptures, “by their fruits ye shall know them.” They daily read the Word of God and lean upon Christ’s promise:
“And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand. My Father, which gave them me, is greater than all, and no man is able to pluck them out of my Father’s hand” (John x. 28, 29).
Never for one moment have I regretted leaving the Church of Rome. On the contrary, I rejoice continually in the knowledge that my sins are forgiven through His righteousness, and that I am justified by faith. I plan, because of the support of Christ’s Mission, to study at an Evangelical seminary to equip myself to take the Gospel of Christ to my own Roman Catholic people. I wish truly to be a creditable servant of God, and feel a strong concern for the many fellow priests who have no spiritual satisfaction, but whose calloused consciences lead them day by day farther into agnosticism and disillusionment. They need the prayers of God’s people.
Thanks to Christ’s Mission, instrument of God, I came from the darkness to the light, from death to glorious life in Christ.
Thrush on the mountain of corruption, in dwelling sin; Thrush on every height therein, particularly that top of it that is the sin that easily besets you; infallibly you will get it down at length (Rom. vii. 24, 25).
—Thos. Boston.
George Wishart.
By the late REV. WILLIAM HANNA, LL.D., Edinburgh.
(Continued from page 255.)
Another base attempt of the same kind was a few weeks afterwards defeated in like manner, Wishart’s conduct in both instances teaching us that had the occasion called for it, and had not a holier and more heavenly spirit possessed him, he had been as vigilant of eye, as cool in danger, as prompt to action, as the best of our mere battle-field heroes. When the plague left Dundee, Wishart visited Montrose. A letter bearing the signature of a well-beloved friend in the parish of Kilmany, in Fifeshire, was here put into his hands, purporting that his friend had been seized with a sudden and dangerous illness, and entreating him to come to him with all diligence. Wishart at once mounted the horse that the messenger had brought with him, and was already outside the town, when, stopping suddenly, he said to those who were accompanying him,—‘I will not go; I am assured that there is treason. Go to yonder place, and tell me what ye find.’ They went to the place he indicated, and there in ambush were sixty well-armed men ready to have seized him.
From Montrose, Wishart went to Edinburgh to meet there some friends from Ayrshire. On his way a strong presentiment of his approaching death and martyrdom took possession of him. One night the friends in whose house he was staying watched him going out, and saw him with many sobs and groans first fall upon his knees and then upon his face, and continue so upon the ground for nearly an hour’s space. They urged him in the morning to tell them what was weighing so heavily upon his heart. ‘I will tell you,’ said he, ‘that I am assured that my travail is near an end. Therefore, call to God for me, that I shrink not now when the battle waxeth most hot.’ ‘But,’ he added, as they began to weep, ‘God shall send you comfort after me. This realm shall be illuminated with the light of Christ’s gospel as clearly as ever was any realm since the days of the apostles. The house of God shall be builded in it, yea, it shall not lack the very copestone. Neither shall the time be long; there shall not many suffer after me.’ Not finding in Edinburgh the friends he came to meet, he put himself under the guidance and protection of Chrichton of Brunston, Douglas of Longniddrie, and Cockburn of Ormiston, three tried friends of the Reformation in East Lothian. While with them, he preached at Inveresk, Tranent, and Haddington, numbers flocking to hear him. Since the attempt upon his life at Dundee, some trusty friend had always been in the habit of bearing before him, when he appeared in public, a two-handed sword. This duty was now entrusted to one then young in years but ardent in faith, destined afterwards to be the chief instrument in the establishment of the Reformed faith in Scotland. His last sermon was preached in Haddington. At its close he took an affectionate farewell of his other friends, as he was going to spend the night at Ormiston. John Knox, who bore the sword before him that day, as usual, would have accompanied him, but he strictly forbade him, and ordered the sword to be given to another. ‘Nay,’ said he to him, as he still asked to be permitted to go, ‘return to your children, and God bless you. One is sufficient for the sacrifice.’ That night the Earl of Bothwell and his band surrounded the house in which Wishart was lying,
and after a solemn pledge, not long of being violated, that he would not give him up to the Cardinal, Wishart was committed to his hands. After lying a short time as a prisoner in the Castle of Edinburgh, he was carried to St. Andrews. It was in the end of January, 1546, that he arrived, and the Cardinal named the 27th of the following month as the day of his trial. He summoned a large convention of the clergy for that day, and wrote to the Regent, asking that a commission should be given to some noblemen to be present, and append the civil sanction to the sentence. Arran’s conscience for the moment was touched, and he sent word in reply, “that he should not precipitate the man’s trial, but to delay it till his coming,” protesting, that if the Cardinal did otherwise, “the man’s blood would be required at his hands.” The prelate’s haughty answer bore, “That he wrote not unto the governor as though he depended in the matter upon his authority, but out of a desire he had that the heretic’s condemnation might proceed with a show of public consent; which, since he could not obtain, he would be doing himself that which he held most fitting.”
The narrative of the trial, of which a full account is preserved, is a painful record of the coarsest invective met with meekness, patience, and charity. On the 28th he was condemned to die next day. Permission was asked to administer to him the sacrament. It was refused. The night was spent in prayer. In the morning the captain of the castle invited him to breakfast with his family. The invitation was accepted. When all was ready at the table, Wishart rose: “I beseech you,” he said, “in the name of God, and for the love you bear to our Saviour Jesus Christ, to be silent a little while, till I have made a short exhortation, and blessed the bread which we are to eat, so that I may bid you farewell.” All were silent around the table. With the utmost solemnity and entire composure, he then for nearly half-an-hour discoursed on the passion and death of Christ, exhorting to mutual love and holiness of heart and life; then giving thanks, he brake the bread, and, partaking of it himself, distributed to those around. Having done the same with a cup of wine that stood upon the table, he offered a short prayer, and adding, “I will eat and drink no more in this life,” he bade them farewell, and retired to his chamber.
Two executioners soon entered. They threw on him a black linen cloak, put a rope about his neck, an iron chain round his waist, and fastened some bags of gunpowder to different parts of his body. Thus prepared, they led him out to the appointed place. This had been chosen at the foot of what is called the Castle Wynd, nearly opposite to the eastern tower or corner of the castle, in order that, lolling on rich cushions laid down at a window in that tower, the Cardinal and his friends might feast their eyes with the spectacle. On the scaffold, Wishart, addressing the people, said, “I beseech you, Christian brethren, that ye be not offended at the word of God, for the afflictions and torments that ye see already prepared for me. For that word’s sake and true evangel, which was given to me by the grace of God, I suffer this day by men, not sorrowfully, but with a glad heart and mind. Consider and behold my visage. Ye shall not see me change my colour. This grim fire I fear not. Some have said of me that I taught that the soul of man should sleep till the last day; but I know surely, and my faith is such, that my soul shall be this night
with my Saviour in the heavens.” Bending on his knees he offered up the prayer,—“I beseech thee, Father of heaven, to forgive them that have of any ignorance, or else of any evil mind, forged any lies upon me. I forgive them with all my whole heart. I beseech Christ to forgive them that have condemned me to death this day ignorantly.” Rising from his knees he was bound to the stake, and thrice he cried aloud, “O Saviour of the world, have mercy upon me! Father of heaven, I commend my spirit into thy holy hands!” The fire was kindled. The powder bags blew up. He was sadly scorched, but the captain of the castle, who stood near, perceiving that he was still alive, bade him be of good courage, and commend his soul to God. “This flame,” said the dying martyr, “hath scorched my body, yet hath it not daunted my spirit; but he who from yonder high place beholdeth us with such pride shall within few days lie in the same as ignominiously as he is now seen proudly to rest himself.” As he spake these words, one of the executioners drew the rope tight that was about his neck, the fire burned more fiercely around him, and in a short time the body was consumed to ashes.