Why More Dogmas Don’t Mean More Errors in Catholicism

I’m not going to argue for the truth of the Catholic faith in this post (that would be quite a project), but I will address two common objections against Catholicism that seem demonstrably false.

I’m not going to argue for the truth of the Catholic faith in this post (that would be quite a project), but I will address two common objections against Catholicism that seem demonstrably false—meaning, they’re definitely not problems for the Catholic faith (though they may be for Protestantism).

One common objection is that the Church’s adherence to (and insistence on) dogmas concerning so-called “controversial truths” is problematic because it's too exclusive. “The bar is unreasonably high,” some claim. “Wouldn’t it be better to be more inclusive?” Well, no. Truth is exclusive—get over it. Besides, nearly every Christian already accepts highly controversial and exclusive claims, whether about the nature of Christ, salvation, or other key doctrines (including debates over what those key doctrines even are!). At this point, some might refine the objection by saying that Catholicism simply demands commitment to more controversial claims—about sacramentality, Mary, etc.—and that’s where the real problem lies.

In other words, some argue that accepting more controversial claims increases the probability of error: more claims mean more opportunities for mistakes or the possibility of being wrong. But this begs the issue because it assumes that the claims are being issued by a fallible theological authority—exactly what the Church claims she is not, at least on essential matters of faith and morals. The Church isn’t making these pronouncements with just a high probability of being correct; if Catholicism is true, she is protected from teaching error on essential matters when teaching with her full authority.¹ That’s the promise of indefectibility (the basis for infallibility), a core Catholic commitment.²

Put differently, the fact that the Catholic Church embraces more controversial and exclusive claims has never struck me as problematic, provided that the Church is what she claims to be: a trustworthy (infallible) teaching authority. If the Church is what she claims to be and functions as she should, then whether she infallibly pronounces ten dogmas or ten thousand doesn’t probabilistically matter—if she is infallible in those pronouncements, we should accept them without concern for their number. (Whether there is good reason to accept the Church’s claim of infallibility is, of course, another matter.)

Rather, it is among Protestants (who reject ongoing infallible teaching authority) that one should be concerned with the number of statements, claims, or doctrines one is required to accept. Without the protection of infallibility, the probability of error obviously increases as the number of propositions grows. To be a little annoying (what else are philosophers good for?), let’s put this in Bayesian terms: the likelihood of error increases as more claims or propositions are made, at least within systems without an infallible authority, such as Protestantism with sola scriptura, where individual interpretation can lead to more potential errors. In Catholicism, by contrast, the doctrine of infallibility acts as a safeguard against such issues, ensuring that any teachings defined under the Church’s full authority on faith and morals are protected from error. This means that, for Catholics, the probability of error remains zero for infallible pronouncements, regardless of how many doctrines are declared. So, while increasing the number of claims might raise the risk of error in fallible systems, this concern doesn’t apply to Catholics who accept the Church’s claim of infallibility—assuming it’s true, of course. (Also, a priori, the Protestant should expect any developed doctrine contingent on multiple fallible interpretations to be more likely false.)

The only real question, then, is how much prior probability one assigns to the Church’s claim of infallibility. The point is that the concern about the number of claims is only an issue if one already assumes the Catholic Church is fallible—which is precisely what’s under debate.

Now, I said I wasn’t going to argue for the truth of the Catholic faith, but what I’ve just stated is, for those familiar with the issue, Newman’s primary reason for arguing that ongoing infallible theological authority is required:

“In proportion to the probability of true developments of doctrine and practice in the Divine Scheme, so too is the probability of the appointment in that scheme of an external authority to decide upon them, thereby separating them from the mass of mere human speculation, extravagance, corruption, and error from which they grow. This is the doctrine of the infallibility of the Church.”³

In other words, Newman’s reasons for infallibility are: (1) the development of doctrine is inevitable for all Christians, and (2) given that, some mechanism must be provided to ensure that the great truths of the Gospel originally delivered—none of which can be fully grasped in their magnificent complexity “all at once”—are not mixed with error as they are gradually understood, made explicit, and more deeply penetrated. Infallibility is necessary to distinguish authentic developments of doctrine from mere human speculation and error. Without it, error would grow exponentially as faulty propositions compound. Simply put, a merely reliable Church would not remain reliable for long; we need an infallible one. (Rob Koons supports this line of thought as part of what led him from Lutheranism to Catholicism. For a different argument, I recommend Joshua Sijuwade Philosophical Case for the Papacy.)

I’ll leave further investigation of that matter for another time and turn to a second objection to Catholicism, which, in my view, is weak: the idea of restrictive theological inquiry, where certain areas are closed off from consideration as orthodox beliefs. The objection is that this stifles the intellect or hinders the pursuit of truth. But this issue is not exclusive to Catholicism; it applies to Christian theology in general, where some ideas—such as denying the Trinity or the divinity of Christ—are clearly off-limits. So, if this is a problem for Catholics, it’s a problem for all of Christianity, with the only difference being where the boundaries are drawn.

Actually, I don’t think that’s quite right. After all, insofar as various Christian denominations reject the notion of ongoing infallible theological authority, they very well could be wrong about closing off certain areas of inquiry, which could mean they are hindering the pursuit of truth. For example, perhaps Christ really does have only one will, as William Lane Craig contends.⁴ Many non-Catholic Christians consider this view heretical, as something definitely not to be believed, but they do not hold the council that condemned this view (Monothelitism) as infallible.⁵ And certainly—certainly—this is not something clearly taught for or against in Scripture but involves rather very complicated philosophical and theological issues.

But anyway. For a general response, I’d say that the idea of restricted inquiry seems entirely reasonable—especially if the boundaries are set by an infallible theological authority. If the Church is infallible and declares certain issues as formally settled, then going out of bounds on those matters will not lead to discovering truth but, at best, waste time that could be spent seeking truth within the boundaries of live issues. Even outside of religion, authorities with good confidence, if not certainty, can determine which areas are not worth exploring because they are either unproductive or potentially dangerous.

I strongly encourage critical inquiry among my children and expose them to a wide variety of perspectives and experiences (including positions I think are wrong), but there are some perspectives and experiences I keep away from them or warn them not to engage with (e.g., Holocaust denial, pornography) because I’m confident they are, at best, a waste of time and, in many cases, quite dangerous—and notice, I didn’t deny that clever cases can be made for these positions, only that I am confident they are, at the end of the day, what I claim them to be.

One last point: while Catholicism does present restrictions on theological inquiry, the space for actual exploration is vast. There is no shortage of room for serious theological (and philosophical, scientific, etc.) inquiry into difficult matters, which are routinely debated among orthodox Catholics. If someone thinks the intellectual life is necessarily stifled by becoming Catholic, I’m not sure what to tell them. It’s simply false, as evidenced by the sheer, almost overwhelming intellectual heritage found within the Catholic faith.

1. Infallibility in the Catholic Church means protection from error in definitive teachings on faith and morals, and it works in two main ways: (1) when the Pope speaks ex cathedra, meaning he officially defines a doctrine as binding for all the faithful, and (2) when an ecumenical council, in union with the Pope, defines a doctrine that everyone must accept. This applies only to specific teachings on faith and morals, ensuring that the Church won’t lead people astray in these crucial areas. It definitely does not mean the Pope can predict the scores of baseball games or anything ridiculous like that. Moreover, infallibility is not the same as impeccability, meaning it doesn’t guarantee that leaders in the Church will be morally upright (many, obviously, have not been—and some, unfortunately, still aren't).

Though speaking in a wider context about the election of the Pope, Pope Benedict XVI offers a helpful and nuanced understanding of how the Holy Spirit generally works to protect the Church. He says:

"I would not say… that the Holy Spirit picks out the Pope, because there are too many contrary instances of popes the Holy Spirit would obviously not have picked. I would say that the Spirit does not exactly take control of the affair, but rather like a good educator, as it were, leaves us much space, much freedom, without entirely abandoning us. Thus the Spirit’s role should be understood in a much more elastic sense, not that he dictates the candidate for whom one must vote. Probably the only assurance he offers is that the thing cannot be totally ruined."

2. Really, infallibility is a negative charism and should be understood as a promise to the members of the Church. A promise of what? A promise that they will never be placed in the impossible position of having to choose between heresy and schism.

3. Newman, An Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine (London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1906), p. 78.

4. See https://www.reasonablefaith.org/media/reasonable-faith-podcast/does-jesus-have-one-or-two-wills

5. Third Council of Constantinople (680-681 AD). The council affirmed that Christ has two wills—divine and human. Catholicism holds this council as ecumenical and its teachings as infallible.