Disputations

Our Magic Bishops

2011-11-22T08:40:00.006-05:00

In a blog post on U.S. Catholic, Scott Alessi contrasts statements on poverty from the Archdiocese of New York and the bishops of New Jersey with the lack of such from the USCCB at last week's general assembly:

Had the entire body of America's bishops made a similar statement last week, it would have called national attention to the serious moral concerns that surround the country's economic troubles.

And I have to ask: Would it?

Is there anyone currently unaware of the serious moral concerns that surround the country's economic troubles who would become aware of them through a statement made by the USCCB at its fall general assembly?

Even if such people exist, I don't think the USCCB should pitch its semiannual agenda at a handful of oddballs.

More generally, I don't think episcopal statements -- at the diocesan, state, or national level -- magically make their way into general cultural consciousness to effect public policy. Scott Alessi would no doubt object strenuously to that "magically," but by what other process would episcopal statements work? The U.S. Catholic blog is itself full of bitching at bishops who don't do or say what the bloggers want them to (the post I quoted from being an example of the "more in sorrow than anger" type). Where comes the power of the bishops' words when they happen to align with the opinions of bloggers for U.S. Catholic?

Still, as I've said before, you really can't lose by talking episcopal woulda-coulda-shoulda.

The unreasonable opposition

2011-11-20T14:59:00.003-05:00

You will have noticed, I'm sure, that the readings for the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ the King present images of a very pastorally minded king.

I myself will look after and tend my sheep.

And he will separate them one from another, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.

Ours is, moreover, a King who doesn't mind associating with commoners:

And the king will say to them in reply, "Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me."

Which, when you think of it, is a pretty broad-minded attitude for He Who Is to adopt toward we who are not. (Or a deep-hearted attitude for He Who Is Love.)

And yet, it's not uncommon to find people who are deeply offended by the idea that the Almighty, Eternal LORD should speak of us like sheep. "Who is God," they ask, "to disrespect us like that?"

Of course, at other times they're likely to say things like, "Humans are nothing but curiously organized dust, random bits of chemicals evolved to create similar bits of chemicals."

Kind of odd to brag about being nothing, then feel disrespected. Though I suppose both the bragging and the indignation feed a sense of superiority, so it makes sense if not reason. More sense, arguably, than our Lord Jesus Christ the King loving us as a shepherd love his sheep.

A twist on irreverence

2011-11-16T08:48:00.005-05:00

This post on a doomed Canadian attempt at irreverence reminds me of this post on a doomed Canadian habit of sacrilege. Where there is no cause for reverence, there can be no irreverence, only offensiveness.

A stock response to such stories -- beyond mockery at the manufactured implications of edginess in offending Christians -- is to say, "If they really want to be edgy, they'll do an 'irreverent' comedy special on Mohammed."

But such people can no more be irreverent toward the holy things of Islam than they can be toward the holy things of Christianity. We have to ask, where is their cause for reverence?

Look! Here it is:

If they really want to be irreverent, if they really want to be edgy, they'll put on the Internet a list of their corporate sponsors, including all the retail products made by those corporations, and title it something like, "A Partial List of Companies Who Support Public Expressions of Contempt for Christianity." When they mock their own god in a way that invites a smiting, then I'll call them irreverent.

A balancing act

2011-11-14T08:49:00.006-05:00

"Children are innocent and love justice," Chesterton wrote, "while most of us are wicked and naturally prefer mercy."

I'd amend that to, children love justice for others, and most of us adults prefer mercy for ourselves. Few children are overly keen on dispassionate justice for themselves, and plenty of sufficiently wicked adults object to mercy for others.

Children and adults: not so different.

It takes some maturity, I think, to see the relationship between the need for mercy for oneself and the desire for mercy for others. Heck, it takes some maturity to see the need for mercy for oneself in any but a superficial sense.

Once we properly desire mercy for others, the justice we desire for them is not merely punitive, but restorative and even healing. Someone at that level of maturity should then see the need to endure healing justice himself (and please let me know when you get there if that "should" holds).

Extending the circle of concern.

(This post uses "mercy" and "justice" from the perspective of the wrongdoer. We can also speak of mercy toward and justice for the innocent, whether us or others, but somehow that's an easier balance to reach.)

Well, that makes sense

2011-11-06T11:31:00.004-05:00

Luke 16:8b-9 are Jesus' words following the Parable of the Dishonest Steward:

"For the children of this world are more prudent in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. I tell you, make friends for yourselves with dishonest wealth, so that when it fails, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings."

If on Friday you had asked me for my thought on this passage, I would have said something like, "Oh, you know, sometimes Jesus is inscruitable. Semitic idioms, and all that."

Now, though, I'd be ready for you. "Have you not read," I would reply with butter-won't-melt sincerity, "the notes on these verses in the NAB and the Douay Rheims?"

The NAB says:

The...conclusion recommends the prudent use of one's wealth (in the light of the coming of the end of the age) after the manner of the children of this world, represented in the parable by the dishonest steward.

The DR, which has "mammon of iniquity" instead of "dishonest wealth," says:

Mammon signifies riches. They are here called the mammon of iniquity, because oftentimes ill gotten, ill bestowed, or an occasion of evil; and at the best are but worldly, and false; and not the true riches of a Christian.

As for the friends made, the DR notes that they are

the poor servants of God, whom we have relieved by our alms, [who] may hereafter, by their intercession, bring our souls to heaven.

The solution, then, presents itself once you allow "prudence" and "wisdom" to be generic terms, that can be used relative to either temporal, human ends, or eternal, divine ends.

The dishonest steward was prudent, in this generic sense, because he did something that would accomplish his end of having people who would feel obliged to look after his temporal needs. Jesus tells His disciples to be prudent in doing something that will accomplish the end of having people who will look after their eternal needs.

And it so happens that both the children of this world and the children of light can use plain old everyday money -- dishonest and iniquitous, at the very least, in the sense that sooner or later it will fail to get you what you want -- to set themselves up for the future. What Jesus is saying, in part, is that the children of this world know this and the children of light do not.

In short: Have you tried almsgiving?

Who was I to be able to hinder God?

2011-10-30T09:26:00.008-04:00

Msgr. Pope expresses puzzlement over the newish custom of displaying a church's holy oils in glass containers inside an ambry with a glass door. It's not particularly safe or secure, as he points out, and there are some questions about how exposing the holy oils in this way fits into Sacramental theology.

I am unlearned enough to be unconcerned about this practice. Without declaring that these are the winning arguments, I'll say that I think there's an aesthetic case to be made, since the oil itself is a pleasing color. When displayed in the sanctuary, they remind an observer of the relationship between the Sacraments in which they are used and the Blessed Sacrament, and of the relationship between the church and the bishop.

That said, I do think that at times the American impulse for the functional exceeds its balance with the Latin impulse for the form:

2011-10-27T22:54:00.002-04:00

An abundance of flour

"To what," Jesus once asked,

"shall I compare the kingdom of God? It is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of wheat flour until the whole batch of dough was leavened."

Three measures of wheat flour, the NAB informs me, is

an enormous amount, enough to feed a hundred people.^*

The Church Fathers, as you might expect, were not about to leave that "three measures" unexegeted. The Catena Aurea includes quotations interpreting the flour as simply "a great abundance," but also:

"the whole world"
"the whole soul"
"those three things in man, with the whole heart, with the whole soul, with the whole mind"
"the three degrees of fruitfulness, the hundred-fold, the sixty-fold, the thirty-fold"
"those three kinds of men, Noah, Daniel, and Job"
"spirit, soul, and body"
"reason, anger, and desire"
"the Law, the Prophets, and the Gospels"
"belief in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit; which when it has fermented into one lump, brings us not to a threefold God, but to the knowledge of one Divinity. This is a pious interpretation..."

So while what I'd thought was the basic meaning of the parable -- that a small amount of Christians can leaven the whole world -- is attested in the Fathers, but so too is a meaning on a more modest scale -- that a small amount of Christianity can leaven the whole Christian.

There is clearly work to be done in leavening the whole world. And if the whole soul is not yet leavened, grab another pinch of the kingdom of God and mix it throughout all three measures.

* This sort of thing, we are told, was a real knee-slapper in Jesus' day. "Three measures of wheat flour? Why, that's nearly four and a half pecks! How tired the woman's arms would have been! Landsakes, is that ever amusing in its hyperbole and ridiculous in its exaggeration!"

Well, maybe it was; I wasn't there.

2011-10-27T09:02:00.002-04:00

A disordered act

In July 2010, I formally requested dispensation from my promises as a member of the Lay Fraternities of St. Dominic.

I'll characterize the reasons this way: While I think I was pretty solid on the theory, in practice I was a lousy Dominican, and I judged it better to not be a Dominican than to be a lousy one.

I haven't publicly mentioned this till now mostly because it's humiliating, but also because I don't want my own faults to reflect poorly on the Lay Fraternities. At this point, though, I'd say there's a greater risk that the virtues of the Lay Fraternities will reflect falsely on me.

So, while I stand behind all I've written about the Dominicans, what I've written about my own vocation to the Order is wrong.

2011-10-24T21:32:00.002-04:00

A towering conclusion

In the general rush to downplay "Towards Reforming the International Financial and Monetary Systems in the Context of Global Public Authority," I haven't seen mention yet of the document's final paragraphs:

Through the account of the Tower of Babel (Genesis 11:1-9), the Bible warns us how the "diversity" of peoples can turn into a vehicle for selfishness and an instrument of division. In humanity there is a real risk that peoples will end up not understanding each other and that cultural diversities will lead to irremediable oppositions. The image of the Tower of Babel also warns us that we must avoid a "unity" that is only apparent, where selfishness and divisions endure because the foundations of the society are not stable. In both cases, Babel is the image of what peoples and individuals can become when they do not recognize their intrinsic transcendent dignity and brotherhood.

The spirit of Babel is the antithesis of the Spirit of Pentecost (Acts 2:1-12), of God's design for the whole of humanity: that is, unity in truth. Only a spirit of concord that rises above divisions and conflicts will allow humanity to be authentically one family and to conceive of a new world with the creation of a world public Authority at the service of the common good.

I found the first paragraph a bit odd, since of course God directly caused the diversity of languages at Babel, in order to keep mankind from never "leav[ing] off from their designs, till they accomplish them in deed" (Gen 11:6). To me, this is less a warning of the risks of diversity than a natural consequence which the LORD took advantage of to keep mankind from getting too big for its britches. Surely the failure of the plan to build a tower the top whereof may reach to heaven was not a bad thing.

Which is not to deny that the story of Babel is instructive when considering the context of global public authority. In the second paragraph quoted above, the true foundation of global unity is rightly said to be found in the events of Pentecost, a Divinely-caused inversion of the events at Babel. And what is that true foundation of global unity, that "unity in truth"?

"And it shall come to pass, that whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord, shall be saved." (Acts 2:21)

The Spirit of Pentecost, thought, was not a spirit of mere concord. "There can be concord in evil between wicked men," as St. Thomas observes -- and, if I'm not mistaken, as the account of the Tower of Babel illustrates. (Whether the account of the ongoing economic troubles illustrates the same principle I leave to others.)

So I would say that the story of Babel not only warns us that we are bound to lack concord if we don't speak the same language, but -- reading it in parallel with the story of Pentecost -- that the concord upon which any global authority must be founded to thrive in virtue is nothing less than the peace of Jesus Christ.

As a practical matter, the world is some way away from establishing that foundation. Whether Christians possess the peace of Jesus Christ in sufficient fullness to serve as the cement which, when mixed with the world's crushed stone, can form a concrete of sufficient strength to bear the weight of the Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace's proposals is, I suppose, open to question.

2011-10-24T10:31:00.003-04:00

Promote the common good through an upright life

To this point, I've only seen one response to the Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace's document, "Towards Reforming the International Financial and Monetary Systems in the Context of Global Public Authority." That response, a tweet, was unfavorable.

I expect many more unfavorable responses. After all,

Poor Pope Benedict XVI can't possibly control all those damn socialists running amok in the Vatican.
The current Pope, like all the recent Popes, is a hopeless socialist himself.
The Church ought to have learned by now to keep its nose out of matters that don't concern faith and morals, like economic arrangements.
All this is just a distraction from the Church's one true mission of opposing legalized abortion.

On the other hand,

Isn't it great to see the theocon ultramontanists so discomfited?
To oppose the U.N. is to oppose the Church.
Catholics in the U.S. have a good reason not to vote for a candidate who doesn't campaign on a platform of surrendering national sovereignty to an international body.

Having cynically weaponized the statement, let me suggest we'd be better off trying to digest it instead. To that end -- or rather, as a first, tiny step on the road to that still-distant end -- let me quote my favorite passage of the [provisional English translation of the] "Conclusion":

As Benedict XVI exhorts us, agents on all levels -– social, political, economic, professional -– are urgently needed who have the courage to serve and to promote the common good through an upright life. Only they will succeed in living and seeing beyond the appearances of things and perceiving the gap between existing reality and untried possibilities. [Emphasis added]

An upright life is probably as good a way as any to start.

2011-10-11T10:53:00.002-04:00

Not America's Greatest Catholic Intellectuals, that's for sure

The Gregorian Blog's list of "America's Greatest Catholic Intellectuals" strikes me as a roundabout way of saying, "On the whole, America's Catholic intellectuals haven't been so great."

It's not just the poverty of thought that would put George Weigel on such a list (or keep Archbishop Chaput off the list only through a technicality). That's explainable by sampling bias.

It's the fact that half the list doesn't write itself, that there aren't at least half a dozen names on the Gregorian Blog's list that would be on any list of "America's Fifty Greatest Intellectuals." (For that matter, would any of the Gregorian Blog's Greatest Catholic Intellectuals count as one of America's Fifty Greatest Intellectuals? My inexpert guess would put Fr. Murray as the most probable.)

2011-10-05T15:41:00.002-04:00

How to overcome envy over the depth and beauty of other people's blogposts

There are several effective methods. Here is a non-exhaustive list:

Convert envy to zeal. "Boy howdy, I'll write a blog post of my own, with this as my model and exemplar!"
Convert envy to pride. "I've got to admit, I can really spot a deep and beautiful blogpost when I see one."
Convert envy to vainglory. "This, clearly, is the pearl produced by my comment on that post back on June 26."
Convert envy to sloth. "You know, I bet if... say, when do the Brewers play?"
Avoid envy altogether. "I don't read that blog anymore."

2011-10-02T08:01:00.001-04:00

On my reading

We should be less concerned about whether Mt 21:43 --

Therefore, I say to you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that will produce its fruit.

-- is anti-Semitic than whether it is anti-American.

2011-09-27T09:14:00.002-04:00

A call to harms

You may recall that Ezekiel 33:7-9 was the first reading a few weeks back:

You, son of man — I have appointed you as a sentinel for the house of Israel; when you hear a word from my mouth, you must warn them for me.

When I say to the wicked, "You wicked, you must die," and you do not speak up to warn the wicked about their ways, they shall die in their sins, but I will hold you responsible for their blood.

If, however, you warn the wicked to turn from their ways, but they do not, then they shall die in their sins, but you shall save your life.

This passage came to mind in thinking about how fruitless is all the kvetching I see about heterodox Catholics.

More than fruitless, though, it suggests the kvetching might be actively dangerous. A sentinel who does not speak up to warn the wicked about their ways will be held responsible for their blood. Will a sentinel who speaks up in a way morally certain to gratuitously offend the wicked get off any easier?

2011-09-21T12:11:00.002-04:00

A field guide to smoldering wicks

Following St. Jerome's interpretation of St. Matthew's invocation of Isaiah's "smoldering wick" as signifying "a weak spark of faith in a little one," let me propose three categories of people with a weak spark of faith:

Those who know their faith is weak.
Those who have never thought about whether their faith is weak.
Those who are convinced their faith is strong.

I'm always nervous around people in the first category, for fear that anything I might say to strengthen their faith will wind up snuffing it out.

Those in the second category are at risk of having their faith snuffed out -- by sudden suffering, for example, or even just long-term tepidity -- before they even notice it was only ever smoldering.

Those in the third category are like a man who has built his house on rock, in an earthquake zone. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and buffeted the house, but it did not collapse. Then came the earthquake, and he was lost.

2011-09-21T09:04:00.002-04:00

He who distinguishes well, teaches well

Extrapolating from the wearying context, the distinction Ed Peters draws in this post is an interesting one:

Now, although in popular parlance people associate the concept of "infallibility" with teachings to be believed by the faithful, in fact, infallibility also extends to teachings to be "firmly embraced and retained" by the faithful. The difference between the two is not in the degree of certitude to be accorded these distinct kinds or levels of teachings, nor in the degree of irreformability with which each are set forth, but rather, in the virtue by which the faithful come to accept these two types of teachings: through belief in the forever-completed revelation of the Word of God in the former, and through confidence in the continuing guidance of the Holy Spirit in the latter.

In a reflection titled "The Virtue of Confidence," Fr. John Hardon, SJ, draws further distinctions:

There are three words we commonly use together, and they mean almost the same thing, but not quite: hope, trust and confidence. Hope is the assured desire that we shall obtain some future good thing. Trust is the reliance we have on someone that what we hope for we shall obtain. Without trust there can be no hope. We hope to get things, ah yes, but only because we trust someone to give us those things. Confidence is the result of hope and trust. It is the peace of heart that comes from the security which is the result of having an assured hope and a firm trust. We can have confidence only if we first trust, and trusting have hope.

It's a bit... non-self-evident, perhaps, that confidence in God should cause a firm embrace and retention of definitive propositions of the magisterium of the Church. But the question isn't whether we're going to firmly embrace and retain definitive propositions; the question is whose propositions are we going to embrace, and why.

2011-09-20T09:45:00.004-04:00

Reeds and wicks

In the Catena Aurea, St. Thomas collects a variety of interpretations of Mt. 12:20 (which quotes Isaiah 42:3):

A bruised reed he will not break, a smoldering wick he will not quench, until he brings justice to victory.

We might think of the bruised reeds and smoldering wicks as those opposed to Jesus:

St. Augustine: So He neither bruised nor quenched the Jewish persecutors, who are here likened to a bruised reed which has lost its wholeness, and to a smoking flax which has lost its flame; but He spared them because He was not come to judge them, but to be judged by them.

St. John Chrysostom: The Lord sought to heal the Jews by this mildness. But though they rejected Him, yet He did not resist them by destroying them.... "He shall not break a bruised reed," shews that it was as easy for Him to break them all, as to break a reed, and that a bruised reed. And, "He shall not quench a smoking flax," shews that their rage was fired, and that the power of Christ was strong to quench such rage with all readiness; hence in this is shewn the great mercy of Christ.

Of course, sets of two often remind the Fathers of the Jews and the Gentiles. St. Hilary matches them this way:

He means this bruised reed that is not broken, to shew that the perishing and bruised bodies of the Gentiles, are not to be broken, but are rather reserved for salvation. "He shall not quench a smoking flax," shews the feebleness of that spark which though not quenched, only moulders in the flax, and that among the remnants of that ancient grace, the Spirit is yet not quite taken away from Israel, but power still remains to them of resuming the whole flame thereof in a day of penitence.

St. Jerome proposes it the other way around:

He calls the Jews a bruised reed, whom tossed by the wind and shaken from one another, the Lord did not immediately condemn, but patiently endured; and the smoking flax He calls the people gathered out of the Gentiles, who, having extinguished the light of the natural law, were involved in the wandering mazes of thick darkness of smoke, bitter and hurtful to the eyes; this He not only did not extinguish, by reducing them to ashes, but on the contrary from a small spark and one almost dead He raised a mighty flame.

St. Jerome also proposes a more generic application, which may be the most common today:

He that holds not out his hand to a sinner, nor bears his brother’s burden, he breaks a bruised reed; and he who despises a weak spark of faith in a little one, he benches a smoking flax.

All these interpretations, of course, preserve the basic point of something feeble that ought to be strong, yet toward which God is merciful until the end.

I'll add, though, that reeds and wicks are not inherently images of strength and endurance. If we ourselves are not bruised or smoldering, we might still regard ourselves as not more secure against violence, absent Christ's mercy, than even whole reeds or brightly burning wicks.

2011-09-15T21:38:00.004-04:00

Cheers! (If you know what I mean,

and I think you do.)

2011-09-12T16:36:00.002-04:00

To forgive divinely

I heard a perfectly good homily on forgiveness yesterday. Mention was made of the necessity of forgiveness, and much was made of the benefits to the one forgiving.

All very well and true.

And yet...

As Christians, we forgive because God forgives. We forgive in imitation of Jesus, Who forgave because He was God's Son and Image. God forgives because He is love.

God gets no benefit from forgiving us. It doesn't lower His blood pressure; it doesn't free His mind to think on other things. I think you could even say God really doesn't have a reason for forgiving us, in the sense of a reasoned discourse that concludes, "So I'll forgive them." Forgiveness is just what He does.

Now it's certainly true that we do benefit from forgiving each other. We have temporal benefits, of the sort the International Forgiveness Institute (mentioned in the homily I heard) studies. And we have eternal benefits, of the sort Jesus indicates in the Parable of the Wicked Servant.

And it's also true that, forgiveness so often being so difficult, the thought of these benefits can cause us to will to forgive when the thought of being like Jesus and His Father doesn't quite close the sale.

But I'm a little concerned that talk of the benefits of forgiveness can become, de facto, talk of forgiveness as therapy, rather than as Christian discipleship. And once we start valuing something for its natural benefits, we are largely free to set our own value on it. So yes, forgiving your neighbor might lower your anxiety, but hey, if you value your grudge enough, then it's not worth it to forgive your neighbor.

Even if we don't lose track of the commandment to forgive before we ourselves seek forgiveness, I'm not sure that we (by which I mean "I") understand God's forgiveness well enough to pass it so lightly by on the way to discussions of the mechanics and effects of the human act of forgiving.

All of which may only mean I wish I'd heard a somewhat different homily yesterday.

2011-09-06T10:35:00.003-04:00

A universal solvent

Logicians speak of arguments in terms of validity and soundness. Yet even entirely valid, sound arguments don't always win the day. In fact, it may well be more the rule than the exception that sound reasoning alone fails to persuade others to change their minds.

I have claimed elsewhere that, in the end, the only accepted form of argument is, "Says me." I should have said that's the only verbal argument, because there is another argument, universally accepted as sound in itself and overthrowing all opposition, that requires no words.

2011-09-05T14:59:00.003-04:00

As bad as it sounds?

What I was particularly interested in was what the Fathers made of Jesus' command to treat the brother who sins against you and "refuses to listen even to the church... as you would a Gentile or a tax collector."

St. John Chrysostom points out that, when those who actually are Gentiles and tax collectors strike your cheek, you are to offer them your other cheek. St. Jerome concludes that

he is to be more abhorred, who under the name of a believer does the deeds of an unbeliever, than those that are openly gentiles.

St. Augustine points out that a Christian treats even Gentiles and tax collectors in the way a disciple of Jesus ought:

Though even thus we are not to neglect his salvation; for the heathens themselves, that is, the gentiles and pagans, we do not indeed regard in the number of our brethren, yet we ever seek their salvation.

We might then ask, how did Jesus treat Gentiles and tax collectors? How did He expect His disciples to treat them?

2011-09-05T09:44:00.003-04:00

Go and tell him his fault

The Church Fathers, as you'd expect, have interesting things to say about Jesus' teaching on what to do "if your brother sins against you."

St. Augustine, for example, presents this teaching as very much a matter of charitable obligation rather than ecclesial administration:

For our rebuke should be in love, not eager to wound, but anxious to amend. If you pass it by, you are become worse than he. He by doing you a wrong hath done himself a great hurt; you slight your brother's wound, and are more to blame for your silence than he for his ill words to you.

He goes on with a word of warning, that we don't always play the part of the wronged one:

And do you confess that by your sin against man you were lost; for if you were not lost, how has he gained you? Let none then make light of it when he sins against his brother.

St. John Chrysostom compares and contrasts the various ways a disciple of Jesus is to react when sinning or sinned against: the offender is to go to the offended (Mt 5:23) before offering his gifts at the altar; the trespassed against is to forgive the trespasser (Mt 6:12); the one sinned against is to go to the sinner (Mt 18:15). God doesn't care who started it, He wants His children to end it.

St. Jerome points out the custom of transferring this teaching somewhat:

If then your brother have sinned against you, or hurt you in any matter, you have power, indeed must needs forgive him, for we are charged to forgive our debtors their debts. But if a man sin against God, it is no longer in our decision. But we do all the contrary of this; where God is wronged we are merciful, where the affront is to ourselves we prosecute the quarrel.

That's not how I'd put it, at least in my case. I figure God can deal with His own affronts, but why else would He be so slow to reprove affronts to me if He didn't want me to prosecute them myself?

2011-09-02T08:51:00.003-04:00

Knowledge of gravity

Catholic moral teaching, as we all know, distinguishes between acts that are evil in their object -- and therefore are always and everywhere evil, regardless of circumstances or intentions -- and acts that are not evil in their object -- and therefore may be good, depending on the circumstances and intentions.

Among the acts that are not evil in their object are acts that are, you might say, "presumptively evil." Well, I might say that; a theologian might say something like "evil absent a grave reason." I don't know that they are a formal category of human acts, theologically speaking, but a list of them would include:

warfare
armed rebellion
capital punishment
amputation
separation from a spouse
cooperation with grave evil (the graver the evil, the graver the reason needed)
verbal misleading (permitted ex justa causa according to some schools of thought)
exposing someone to mortal danger [CCC 2269]
divulging private information prejudicial to another [CCC 2491]

And suchlike things.

Now, while the Church does teach that it is up to the actor to determine whether there is a sufficiently grave reason to perform suchlike things, the Church does not teach that the actor can make this determination in any manner he may choose. To the contrary, the Church teaches that the grave reason for which the actor acts is itself subject to objective moral analysis. It is possible to know that an actor -- be it a state in the case of war or a surgeon in the case of amputation -- is wrong in his evaluation of the justification for performing an act that requires a grave reason.

I'll even suggest that a great deal of the Catholic moral tradition is, in one form or another, analysis of the validity of arguments that grave reasons exist to perform acts that require grave reasons. (More generally, it's analysis of the validity of arguments that sufficient reasons exist to justify acts, but acts requiring grave reasons would, I'd say, require more analysis than other acts.)

So it's not really true to say the Church "leaves to the prudential judgment" of an actor the determination of the moral acceptability of an act. The Church only "leaves" us to act under the presumption that our consciences are well-formed in accord with the moral guidance the Church provides. And whether we actually follow well-formed consciences can be known, in certain circumstances, by others.

It's not sufficient, for example, to say of a decision to go to war, "The state knows facts that we do not. Therefore, we can't say going to war was morally wrong." To the extent the argument to go to war is known, it can be evaluated for validity in light of the Catholic moral tradition. An invalid argument does not support its conclusion, even if its premises are true.

2011-09-01T08:37:00.002-04:00

As a reminder,

the fact that Catholic moral teaching holds that a particular species of act is not objectively evil does not imply that any given argument for performing that act is consistent with Catholic moral teaching.

In other words, a particular prudential judgment can be contrary to the moral law, even in matters that the moral law leaves to prudential judgment. This is because reaching a prudential judgment is itself a moral act, and is therefore governed by the moral law.

Just because instances of an act can be morally good doesn't mean a particular instance of the act can't be known to be morally evil.

2011-08-23T12:47:00.006-04:00

Simplified comments software

For those who aren't happy with their Catholic website's current commenting systems, I've developed a solution. Simply append the following HTML code to each post or page on which you would like comments to appear:

<img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 386px; height: 230px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qGV4_Kz0NAU/TlPaYgBMUNI/AAAAAAAAAJU/jOAF8ZMGXpM/s400/cathcomments.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644094872472015058" />

I've employed this code at the bottom of this post to show how it works.

No need to thank me. It's what I do.

[begin simplified comment feature]

[end simplified comment feature]

2011-08-22T13:04:00.002-04:00

The atheist's search for workable ideas

~~Morals without God~~

~~Ethics without morals~~

~~Principles without ethics~~

~~Guidelines without principles~~

~~Rules without guidelines~~

Laws without rules

That last one always works, for a little while at least.

(Link via Steven D. Greydanus of Decent Films.)

2011-08-22T11:34:00.002-04:00

How do you get to Heaven? Practice, practice, practice

Ever have one of those Masses that make you think that, as practicing Catholics, we sure can use more practice?

The Mass I attended yesterday had bombastic accompaniment to sparsely sung Worship & Praise hymns. The congregation rose as one when the offertory hymn ended sooner than usual and the priest loudly said, "Blessed are you, Lord, God of all creation." And that may well have been the worst homily ever offered sober in English.

Somewhere in there, though, I realized I was in the right place. I sure can use more practice, and being amongst the similarly imperfect frees me from the temptation to despair. As for any pride and presumption that might feed off the foibles of my fellow parishioners, I find they have a way of crashing down on my head before the final dismissal. And church parking lots are ideally designed for exorcising the spirit of vainglory.

Does this mean I'm also free of promptings to improve, stuck in the mire of mediocrity with my fellow parishioners? Not at all. Neither I nor my parish ought to be average. We ought to be on fire with love for Christ, and with the love of God for our fellow men. If my parish isn't, then clearly I'm not doing my part to enkindle it. Recall the saying attributed to St. Catherine of Siena:

If you are what you should be, you will set the whole world on fire!

If my corner of the world is not on fire, I can hardly blame my corner of the world. And while it might -- might -- be great to be part of the world set on fire by my parish, I can hardly blame my parish if I'm not. Do I not have the Law and the Prophets, not to mention the Sacraments and the Catechism?

No, I have everything I need to become perfect as our Father is perfect, right here in my parish. Now I just need to do it.

2011-08-16T08:36:00.003-04:00

Misperceptions of the Church

In a comment on the post below, Sara tells a harrowing and heartbreaking story about "the nicest man on the RCIA team" flying into a rage when she said she liked the crucifix in their church:

"The Church has changed. It's not about that anymore. I spent my whole childhood with that face looking down at me, trying to make me feel guilty... I'm done looking at that face. I've seen enough of it to last me the rest of my life."

I was born and baptized a few months before the close of Vatican II, so the Us vs. Them battles of the time are not my battles. But while the idea that Catholicism is "about" guilt is as foreign to me as the idea that Catholicism is about worshipping the pope, I can't simply say that this fellow was wrong on the facts.

If, indeed, his experience of the Church prior to Vatican II was of a smothering sense of guilt, and of the Church after the Council of the relief from that smothering guilt, then I can understand his passionate response. I can understand a knee-jerk reaction against any movement "back," when "back" means "God = Guilt." I can understand the disinclination to worry about whether today's solutions to "God = X" are true, or have any relation to what the Church has taught through history up until 1962. I can even understand why, under those circumstances, someone might think that the solution to "God = X" is true only if it's not what the Church taught in 1961.

This is, of course, an intellectual understanding of a subjective state. I can sympathize to some extent, but I can't really empathize. People have had my whole lifetime to align their emotions with right reason. It's heartbreaking for a Catholic to be unable to look upon a crucifix without getting angry, but it's also a sign of stunted spiritual growth. We don't need to break communion with them to observe that it's disconcerting for spiritually stunted people to be instructing catechumens in the Faith.

I'll steal from Dostoevsky and suggest that the way to heal people who have been stunted by their experiences in the Church is through beauty. Someone who has encountered ugliness will rush to embrace not-ugliness, or even just a lesser ugliness, and call it gain. But everyone who apprehends true beauty will desire to rest in it.

It's not easy to get someone to apprehend beauty where he is already convinced there is nothing but ugliness. It takes time and effort and love just to get him to look, much less perceive. But maybe we know an imperfect Catholic who's worth the time and effort and love.

2011-08-15T11:02:00.004-04:00

The hermeneutics of Us vs Them

I feel sorry for Ken Trainor, a guest blogger at U.S. Catholic who today tries to pass the torch of his rebellion against the Church to the next generation.

He contrasts "The church of John Paul II and Benedict XVI" with "The church" -- sorry, I mistakenly capitalized "church" there, but I've corrected myself -- "of John XXIII and Vatican II." He speaks of "the official version of the Catholic Church."

He uses the expression "suspicious of institutional religion" twice, both times in the context of "young people" who are "spiritual." In his telling, there are two options for being "spiritual": "a highly structured, hierarchical, institutionalized approach;" and the approach taken by those suspicious of institutional religion, who have "frequently been praised for their strong service values" and whose "hearts are in the right place." (He doesn't say where the hearts of those who are looking for an institutionalized approach are.)

I wondered, as I read his post, whether he was actually speaking for young people. But no; "Ken Trainor [is] a practicing, progressive Catholic, who was 10 years old when Vatican II began."

Nor is there any real sign that he is speaking to young people. I get the sense, rather, that he is speaking to other practicing, progressive Catholics who were ten years old (or older) when Vatican II began -- is it too much to add ", i.e., U.S. Catholic readers"? -- blaming the failure of their "spirit of Vatican II" to catch on with young people on "the current Catholic Church[, which] has been trying its best to sweep [it] under a rug."

He does quote a lengthy passage from Vatican II's "Message to Youth," although even this he chooses to introduce adversarially: "But my guess is that World Youth Day in Madrid this year will not mention John XXIII or Vatican II." What he does not do -- perhaps for practicing, progressive Catholics, it's self-evident -- is point out what part of the passage he quotes the Church of John Paul II and Benedict XVI has been trying to sweep under the rug. (If I had to guess, I'd say it's the "marching on toward human perfection in time" part.)

I've probably made it clear that I don't have much respect for Ken Trainor's position; in fact, I'm a bit surprised that a Catholic website would run such a hackneyed piece of unsubstantiated assertions. But I really do feel sorry for him, and not just because his wish for a thriving unofficial version of the Catholic Church is doomed. (Thriving, unofficial, Catholic: Which two do you want?)

I feel sorry for anyone whose whole concept of the Church as she exists in the world is one of ad intra political conflict between Us and Them. How awful it must be to view the Body of Christ from the perspective of strife and discord! And how far from Jesus' intention when He founded the Church -- yes, on the Rock of Peter, and by the fiat of Mary, and through the evangelism of Paul, and with the contemplation of John.

Us vs Them will kill your soul dead. And the disciples it attracts will be disciples of Us, not of Christ.

UPDATE: U.S. Catholic also runs a piece on how "Millennial Catholics" actually practice their faith. Link via Sherry Weddell of the Catherine of Siena Institute.

2011-08-14T10:53:00.002-04:00

My Penultimate Post on the Book of Numbers, Chapter Eleven

Oh my fur and whiskers, the NABRE translates the beginning of Num 11:4 as, "The riffraff among them."

This "riffraff" seems to be the "crowd of mixed ancestry" mentioned in Ex 12:38. The NAB has "foreign elements," the Douay-Rheims "a mixt multitude of people."

Racist much, group of nearly 100 scholars and theologians, including bishops, revisers and editors?

2011-08-08T10:14:00.007-04:00

The prophesy of Eldad and Medad

What can we learn from the story of Eldad and Medad? In no particular order and with no infused wisdom:

God keeps His word, and then some. In this case, His word was that He would bestow the spirit of Moses upon the seventy elders whom Moses was to bring with him to the tent. God exceeded the letter of His word in bestowing the spirit even upon the two who weren't with Moses.
God works with His friends. Why did the spirit come upon Eldad and Meded? Because they had been on the list of elders Moses had drawn up. If they were good enough for Moses, they were good enough for the LORD.
The Spirit blows where It will. We don't know why Eldad and Medad were in the camp when they should have been with Moses. It doesn't matter, though; whether they were too infirm or too afraid, God sought them out and made them His prophets.
Your charisms aren't about you. Moses understood that; Joshua didn't. (And, considering the fact that Moses was the humblest man on earth, we might wonder whether Joshua was jealous of Eldad and Medad for the sake of Moses' status, or for the sake of Moses' aide's status.)
Charisms are good. They're good for the people who receive them, and they're good for the whole people, for whom they're given. Since they are good, and since God is good, He is unstinting in bestowing them.
Moses gave a prophecy of Baptism. "If only all the people of the LORD were prophets! If only the LORD would bestow his spirit on them!" And what do you know? They are! He does!

2011-08-07T10:03:00.002-04:00

Stepping out without fear

Let's admit it: today's Gospel reading tells a freaky story. We're used to it, of course; so used to it that we use the term "walking on water" to mean "Godlike."^* But even by the standards of the Incarnation, this episode is on the extreme side.

And how, exactly, did Peter's mind work. "Do not be afraid? Got it. Let's see, there aren't any lions here to punch, no scorpions to juggle, so... hey, why don't I jump out of the boat and walk around? That would be pretty scary to do, ordinarily."

Still, there's a lot to chew on once you get past the over-the-top action. The inability of the disciples to make headway without Jesus being present; the willingness of Peter to follow His Lord in action; his too-human failing.

What strikes me this time around, though, is how quickly Jesus acts:

At once Jesus spoke to them...
He said, "Come." ...
Immediately Jesus stretched out his hand...

When the disciples are frightened, Jesus reassures them "at once." When Peter asks for an invitation to demonstrate his faith, Jesus gives him one in a single word. And when Peter gets in over his head, Jesus rescues him "immediately."

When Jesus says, "Be not afraid," He seems to mean it. That is, He doesn't mean, "Work on overcoming your fears, and when you've done that, then don't return to being afraid." He means, I think, "Stop being afraid this instant. Don't you know who I AM? Don't you know that I AM with you in this instant right now?"

We don't need to be afraid of God's dominion over creation, the way we might be afraid of a ghost's indifference to physics, because God is good. And we need to not be afraid because fear keeps us where we are -- in a boat fighting the wind, say, instead of stepping forth in faith to make the Gospel known.

*Actually, per Mt 14:33, walking on water is Son-of-God-like. The first reading tells us that what's Godlike is a tiny whispering sound, but "tiny whispering sound" hasn't really caught on as an idiom.

2011-08-03T13:06:00.002-04:00

Worth a try

Far be it from me to complain when someone recommends prayer and fasting.

I'll just point out that August 6 is the Feast of the Transfiguration, and so not really a proper day for fasting (though at least some bishops are cool with it).

Also, if I'd been asked, I think instead of referring to Joel 2 -- I assume they mean vv 12-17, give or take:

Yet even now, says the LORD, return to me with your whole heart, with fasting, and weeping, and mourning;
Rend your hearts, not your garments, and return to the LORD, your God. For gracious and merciful is he, slow to anger, rich in kindness, and relenting in punishment.
Perhaps he will again relent and leave behind him a blessing, Offerings and libations for the LORD, your God.
Blow the trumpet in Zion! proclaim a fast, call an assembly;
Gather the people, notify the congregation; Assemble the elders, gather the children and the infants at the breast; Let the bridegroom quit his room, and the bride her chamber.
Between the porch and the altar let the priests, the ministers of the LORD, weep, And say, "Spare, O LORD, your people, and make not your heritage a reproach, with the nations ruling over them! Why should they say among the peoples, 'Where is their God?'"

I might've proposed Jonah 3:4-5:

Jonah began his journey through the city, and had gone but a single day's walk announcing, "Forty days more and Nineveh shall be destroyed," when the people of Nineveh believed God; they proclaimed a fast and all of them, great and small, put on sackcloth.

Better, perhaps, to see your country as Nineveh than as Zion.

(Also, I'm not altogether sure those Texans aren't eyeing Joel 2:20.)

2011-08-03T07:40:00.003-04:00

What's in a name

I love the story of Eldad and Medad:

Now two men, one named Eldad and the other Medad, were not in the gathering [of Moses and the sixty-eight elders] but had been left in the camp. They too had been on the list, but had not gone out to the tent; yet the spirit came to rest on them also, and they prophesied in the camp.

So, when a young man quickly told Moses, "Eldad and Medad are prophesying in the camp," Joshua, son of Nun, who from his youth had been Moses' aide, said, "Moses, my lord, stop them."

But Moses answered him, "Are you jealous for my sake? Would that all the people of the LORD were prophets! Would that the LORD might bestow his spirit on them all!"

What I particularly like about the story is that these two men are named for us. The above verses are their whole Scriptural footprint; the Holy Spirit did not inspire the sacred writers to tell us any more about them... and yet they told us their names. Their memory was preserved among the Israelites, not as those two old men who became prophets in camp, but as the prophets Eldad ("God is loved") and Medad ("Love").

And now Christians, too, preserve the memory of the prophets Eldad and Medad. We know of nothing that they prophesied, but that's okay; the five books of Moses tell us what God wants us to know about what He revealed during their lifetimes. (There is, I find, an apocryphal book of "Eldad and Modat," apparently known only through this passage in the Shepherd of Hermas: "The Lord is near to them who return unto Him, as it is written in Eldad and Modat, who prophesied to the people in the wilderness." Not a doctrine that shifts the foundations of Christianity.)

In his De Spiritu Sancto, St. Basil also alludes to a tradition that is at least consistent with Eldad and Medad being the only two elders mentioned by name:

Furthermore as in our bodies is health, or heat, or, generally, their variable conditions, so, very frequently is the Spirit in the soul; since He does not abide with those who, on account of the instability of their will, easily reject the grace which they have received. An instance of this is seen in Saul, and the seventy elders of the children of Israel, except Eldad and Medad, with whom alone the Spirit appears to have remained, and, generally, any one similar to these in character.

It may be, then, that we know their names not merely because they prophesied, but because they remained faithful to God.

On a more secular level, I love the names themselves. "Eldad and Medad" would be a great name for a rock roots album.

Then there's the big question the story leaves unanswered: Why had they been left in camp? Were they procrastinating? Dawdling? Shirking? Poky? Busy with other affairs? Not early risers? Think of how many classes of petitioners they could serve as patron saints of!

And this is all without even touching on what their story is about.

2011-08-01T16:01:00.003-04:00

The charism of schlepping

SPOILER ALERT!

After Moses begs for death because the Israelites are too heavy for him, the LORD answers:

Assemble for me seventy of the elders of Israel, men you know for true elders and authorities among the people, and bring them to the meeting tent. When they are in place beside you, I will come down and speak with you there. I will also take some of the spirit that is on you and will bestow it on them, that they may share the burden of the people with you. You will then not have to bear it by yourself.

Although the seventy were already true elders and authorities, their authority differed from Moses' in two important ways. First, theirs was a natural authority, derived no doubt from God-given wisdom but still conferred on them, not by God, but by those around them who recognized their wisdom.

Second, theirs was not an authority that imposed a burden on them. Sure, they may have worried about the people who brought their problems to them for help, but in the end, if someone didn't follow their advice, or even ask for it in the first place, it wasn't their problem.

Now, I called these two ways the elders' authority differed from Moses', but the second difference is really just one aspect of the first. God tells Moses that He will give the elders the spirit of Moses with the stated intention of them sharing the burden of the people with him. When Jesus taught that the leaders of His Church were not to lord it over the others but to serve them, He was building on the foundation of the seventy elders of Kibroth-hattaavah. (The seventy also prefigure the Sanhedrin and the College of Cardinals; the burden-bearing-to-lording-it-over ratio hasn't always been properly maintained.)

What is it about the spirit of Moses that makes it a burden-bearing spirit? Well, the seventy are made prophets; even Eldad and Medad, who hadn't made it to Moses' tent, prophesy back in the camp. So they know something of the glory of God, of the truth of He Who Is. To know God is to be impelled to communicate Him to others. More specifically, for someone in authority to know God is to be impelled to lead those under your authority into communion with Him. And the people whom God called out of Egypt were, at best, fickle in their appreciation of His glory and truth, and not particularly interested in communion with Him for its own sake.

2011-08-01T11:06:00.003-04:00

Days of Our Forefathers in Faith's Lives

Today's first reading, from Numbers 11, has a cliffhanger ending, with Moses complaining to the LORD about the Israelites:

I cannot carry all this people by myself, for they are too heavy for me. If this is the way you will deal with me, then please do me the favor of killing me at once,so that I need no longer face this distress.

How does the LORD reply? Will He do Moses the favor of killing him at once?

Tuning in tomorrow won't do you much good, as the reading skips ahead to Chapter 12, and ends with its own cliffhanger:

Then Moses cried to the LORD, "Please, not this! Pray, heal her!"

It's almost like the Lectionarists want people to go check their Bibles to see what happens next.

If they do check their Bibles, they might also notice the curious edit at the beginning of today's reading. The whole of Hebrews 11:4 reads:

The foreign elements among them were so greedy for meat that even the Israelites lamented again, "Would that we had meat for food!"

But the Lectionary begins with 4b:

The children of Israel lamented, "Would that we had meat for food!"

Maybe foreign elements (Douay Rheims: "a mixt multitude of people") on the Lectionary Committee didn't want the blame to fall on Them. And, for what it's worth, the LORD didn't seem too concerned with whether the greedy people were sons of Abraham or merely fellow travellers when He...

2011-07-28T10:40:00.002-04:00

Thanks awfully

The Lord's Prayer, as you know, has seven petitions:

Hallowed be Thy Name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.
Lead us not into temptation.
Deliver us from evil.

The pivot petition, so to speak, is #4, when we move from petitions with "Thy" to petitions with "us." Or, as St. Thomas puts it, the first three petitions are for things that "cannot be had in their fullness except in heaven," while the fourth petition asks "for the requirements of this present life which are here obtainable in their fullness."

But what if we've already got our daily bread? What if our temporal wants were met yesterday, are met today, and (absent a cataclysm) will be met tomorrow?

Psychologically, I think, it means that we have to work at accepting the truths that it is only through God's providence that we have our temporal wants met and that it is presumption to assume they never (or even later today) will go unmet.

In addition to this well-known difficulty of being grateful for things you've never not had, though, I wonder if there isn't also a difficulty in taking the rest of the petitions seriously.

Petition #4 is the most practical of them all. Even people who don't believe in God and don't care about temptation want their daily bread. If the petition we should most fervently desire, on the natural level, is one we can't gin up much enthusiasm for, then how fervent will our prayer be that, say, God's Name be hallowed, or even that we be delivered from evil?

Gratitude is a virtue directed toward fulfilling our duty of thanking our benefactors, but it may also support the acts of religion, mercy, and hope required to pray with honest hearts as Jesus taught us.

2011-07-27T10:04:00.003-04:00

I'm not a glutton, I'm practicing for heaven

I heard a homily on Sunday that made the point that, in our finite world, to choose something is to reject something else, and that it's the sorrow of having to reject those other things that can make choosing one thing hard. This is true whether there is only one morally permissible choice or several.

(Hence, perhaps, the popularity of cheap buffet restaurants. The appeal lies in the freedom from choice; it certainly can't be the quality of the food.)

I wondered whether that might be the point of creating a new heavens and a new earth at the end of the age. Might it be that, in the new creation, to choose something is somehow not to reject something else? If happiness is having what you want and wanting what you have, then maybe the wedding feast of Christ and His Church is a buffet, with the sort of food you'd expect God to serve at His Son's wedding feast.

Then, coincidentally, I came across this old post of mine, on the suggestion by Fr. John Corbett, OP, that (in my paraphrase) "God's promises are so wonderful the earth as it presently exists cannot contain them." Which, for what it's worth, is certainly consistent with the notion of choice without possibility of sadness.

2011-07-26T10:01:00.002-04:00

A measured answer

Mary Kochan has inadvertently uncovered a fault line between cradle Catholics and adult converts from Protestantism in their reaction to her post, "Catholics, Please Say Something About Jesus!" I certainly come down on the cradle Catholic side myself.

I'm all for Catholics saying something about Jesus when talking religion with Protestants. I'm aware that Catholics can be regular, even daily, Massgoers without knowing the Faith very well, much less being able to articulate it in a way that resonates with non-Catholic Christians. I know that some Catholics feel closer to Mary than they do to Jesus.

That said, what I dislike about Mary Kochan's article is that it extracts the perfectly legitimate "Please say something about Jesus!" message from the story of an 80-year-old Catholic dying of cancer who expressed a docile trust in Mary's intercession.

The take-away, for me, is, "Don't be like that guy! That eighty-year-old man failed the Church by not being prepared to argue apologetics with Protestants!"

In a comment on Mark Shea's post on the topic, adult convert Bob B. hits on a formula to describe the polarized reactions:

Bottom line for me is that, as Catholics, too many times I think we take our faith for granted, and get stuck on autopilot too frequently. Then, when hit with the "what would you say to Jesus" question comes at us, we are not prepared to provide a good answer.

For adult converts, "a good answer" necessarily evangelizes Protestants. Cradle Catholics, for the most part, are satisfied with an answer that expresses the Christian Faith.

2011-07-23T12:42:00.003-04:00

Pastoral rules

I should finish my thought by saying that I unlearnedly and provisionally think of the word "pastoral" in the Catholic context as meaning something like "of or relating to the love of a pastor for those in his care."

This can be contrasted with the connotation wryly offered by Fr. Philip in a comment on the previous post:

In my seminary, "pastoral" was code for "how to get around the rules."

You can see how such a code sets up a mutual contradiction between "pastoral" and "obedient." Those who don't think much of obedience as a virtue shouldn't be sanguine, though, since they aren't always going to be in a position to decide which rules need to be gotten around. I suspect Fr. Philip would confirm that those who approved of the "how to get around the rules" code in his seminary in fact had quite a long list of rules the getting around of which they would not have considered very "pastoral." Certainly the pastoralists at the National Catholic Reporter do.

Still, I think there is a certain tension between true pastoral love and following the rules. It is pastoral neither to ignore those rules that are contrary to the desires of those in one's care, nor to ignore those desires that are contrary to the rules. As always, virtue lies in the mean. In this case, I'd say it's a matter of understanding how the rules relate to the good of those in one's care -- which, of course, is the end the pastor seeks in loving them. To put it another way, the rules are a means to the good of the flock, but the rules aren't a good to be sought for its own sake.

2011-07-21T11:16:00.004-04:00

Fielding questions

A lot of thought is being given these days to the Christian's particular duty as steward of creation. I think we would do well to also give some thought to the Christian's particular duty as steward of language. It is, after all chiefly through language that the revelation of God's Word is preserved and transmitted -- which, as you know, is the purpose of the Church. If we fail to pass on to the next generation the words with which to preach the Word, the next generation will not be Christian.

That's the puffed-up introduction to my real point: We should not allow the language the Church uses to preach the Gospel to be debased by those, including those within the Church, who want to use that language to preach something other than the Gospel.

Today I'm thinking in particular of the word "pastoral," which some Catholics seem to use to mean something akin to "gentlemanly" as Bl. John Henry Cardinal Newman understood it:

Hence it is that it is almost a definition of a gentleman to say he is one who never inflicts pain.... The true gentleman carefully avoids whatever may cause a jar or a jolt in the minds of those with whom he is cast;—all clashing of opinion, or collision of feeling, all restraint, or suspicion, or gloom, or resentment; his great concern being to make everyone at their ease and at home. He has his eyes on all his company; he is tender towards the bashful, gentle towards the distant, and merciful towards the absurd; he can recollect to whom he is speaking; he guards against unseasonable allusions, or topics which may irritate; he is seldom prominent in conversation, and never wearisome.

That doesn't sound so bad, and indeed, "It is well to be a gentleman," but the gentleman's civil virtues "are no guarantee for sanctity or even for conscientiousness."

A fortiori, they are no guarantee for prudent leadership of those souls entrusted to a man by the Church. There are times, I submit, when a good pastor does inflict pain, just as there are times when a good doctor inflicts pain. There are times when a jar or a jolt in the mind of those with whom he is cast is precisely what is needed. People shouldn't feel at ease in their sin or at home in their error. The Gospel by its nature is irritating and wearisome to those unwilling to fully embrace it.

Yet we have Catholics who insist that irritated laity is proof of a priest or bishop who is insufficiently pastoral. Well, that's not quite true. Only if the right sort of laity are irritated about the right sort of things is it proof of an unpastoral shepherd. If the wrong sort of laity are irritated, it's good on yer, Excellency!

Such politicization of the language the Church uses to describe her shepherds is harmful to her mission. It is literally scandalous, as it can cause others in the Church to tune out all considerations of the "pastoral" nature of hierarchical offices. Catholics who use "pastoral" to mean "compliant with the wishes of Us" are training others that it doesn't mean "working for the good of those in one's care." And they won't be very happy, as recent events demonstrate, when they hear those others say, "What are you complaining about? He's perfectly compliant with the wishes of Us!"

If the word "pastoral" is debased to the point that it no longer means pastoral, then how can Catholics talk about the need for pastoral priests and bishops?

2011-07-20T12:19:00.002-04:00

Not Invested Here Syndrome

Last week, the Times's religion correspondent Ruth Gledhill tweeted:

China's govt-backed RC Church to ordain another bishop without Pope's approval http://bit.ly/oIsuDb

I was struck by the way that was phrased, and not just the "China's govt-backed RC Church" bit, though if it's the RC Church, it's the RC Church.

What really struck me was the "to ordain another bishop without Pope's approval" bit. It struck me that this is something of a dream in certain Catholic circles in the United States. And I wondered whether those circles would be caught up short by the thought that their dream is being realized right now in China, that just maybe its association with a political dictatorship might reflect poorly on the idea of trying to have your own RC Church without the Pope's approval.

Coincidentally, perhaps, just yesterday Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP, quoted a commenter at NCRonline:

Hats off to the Chinese who are standing up to Rome in much the same way as the English did in the sixteenth century!

That takes "but at least it's not the Vatican" to a whole new level.

Also yesterday, Bishop Finn of Kansas City-St. Joseph published an article on U.S. silence in the face of Chinese persecution of Catholics:

According to a July 17 CNN story, leaders in China have, in turn, accused the Vatican of interfering in its religious affairs. Last November the U.S. State Department listed China as one of eight countries of "particular concern" on religious freedom. Specifically the U.S. accused China of persecuting followers of the Dalai Lama in Tibet and Uyghur Muslims in western China. While President Barak Obama met last week with the Dalai Lama, apparently no public mention has yet been made by the administration about actions against Catholics.

I can't much blame President Obama, though, given the relative silence from Catholics in the U.S. But then, what should we do, when we don't even know whether Chinese Catholics would vote Republican or Democratic?

Bishop Finn has a suggestion:

For our Catholic brothers and sisters on the Mainland who have endured so much to hold on to an authentic Catholic faith, this is hardly an intellectual exercise. They need our support in prayer and political clout. Mary, Mother of the Church, intercede for your children. St. Joseph, defender of justice, pray for us.

2011-07-19T16:43:00.002-04:00

Reserving judgment

Anyone can put on a ballcap, your Excellency. The question is, can you boo Polanco for striking out with a man on second in the eighth when they're up by three?

(Image via Abp. Chaput, captip to Thomas Peters.)

2011-07-19T07:30:00.006-04:00

An active archbishop

In other news, Abp. Chaput is going to Philadelphia. Archbishops of the archdiocese in which I grew up who have replied to my email questions? This is the first.

The thing I like about Abp. Chaput is that he, in a word, tries. He tries to make the Christian Faith relevant to how Catholics act in society. He is willing to say, "This Catholics must do, and this Catholics must not do." I'm not sure if it's also true grammatically, but message-wise he very much favors the active voice over the passive voice.

There are those in the Church who prefer bishops to use a passive voice, at least when it comes to criticizing Democrats. They will say Abp. Chaput is too partisan and not sufficiently pastoral. To the former charge, I'd answer yes, Abp. Chaput is extremely partisan; he stands with the weak against the strong. To the latter charge, I'd answer that they are failing to see that their universal pastor, Pope Benedict XVI, is trying to teach them something in giving Abp. Chaput to Philadelphia, and if I had to guess, I'd say the lesson is that "pastoral" doesn't always mean letting the flock do whatever it was going to do anyway.

Still, those who aren't happy about this news are part of Us, too, and we're all together supposed to bring Christ to the world and the world to Christ. Best wishes and prayers to the Archdiocese of Philadelphia, her new archbishop, the Church in the United States, and the whole Church Militant!

Oh, and let me finish with a favorite quotation from the Franciscan archbishop's time in Denver, just to keep things focused:

If we ignore the poor, we will go to hell.

UPDATE: Abp. Chaput is still on message:

In part, the picture that emerges is already familiar. Chaput wants to lead the church back "to a clear embrace of the Gospel, without compromise." He tackles the Latin Mass, the visitation of American nuns, health care, communion bans for pro-choice politicians, and gay marriage -- in each case, staking out what most would regard as strongly conservative positions.

Yet there are also surprises....

"If we don't love the poor, and do all we can to improve their lot, we're going to go to Hell," Chaput says, in typically blunt fashion.

Why is it a suprise that a "strongly conservative" archbishop would say that?

2011-07-19T07:17:00.004-04:00

Rome has spoken

Have you heard the news from Rome? Father Thomas Dowd has been appointed auxiliary bishop of Montreal!

New bishops who are younger than I am? Old news. New bishops with whom I've disputed on this blog? This is the first, as far as I know.

Congratulations, Bp-Des Dowd! Congratulations, Montreal!

(News heard through @ApostolicPalace.)

2011-07-18T12:27:00.003-04:00

The particular needs of the listeners

Speaking of hard topics, my parish has a new pastor, and at Mass yesterday, just before distributing Communion, he spoke from the altar about the large number of parishioners ("-- adults; I sort of expect it from teenagers") who leave immediately after receiving Communion. Apart from great need, we should, he said, remain until the end, and not leave ahead of the cross; and if we do leave earlier, from great need or otherwise, as custodians of the Blessed Sacrament we ought not to leave the church with It still in our mouths.

So, that's where we are as a parish. Abortion? Social justice? We don't even know how to eat!

[As for how the message was received, my wife did say afterwards that she felt scolded, though we customarily leave after the cross (fleeing dreadful recessional songs counts as great need, right?). Still, as hard lessons go, "Don't leave early" is a good place to start; at the very least, most counter-scolders will probably be gone before the priest gets to the vestibule.]

2011-07-16T11:09:00.002-04:00

In respect of respect

On the Archdiocese of Washington's blog, Msgr. Pope has a thoughtful post on the deceptively-names moral fault of "respect of persons." Among his examples, he lists the common problem of the self-editing homilist:

A pastor of a parish has a mandate from God and the Church to preach the whole counsel of God. But over the years he has struggled to preach the hard things. After all teaching on things like abortion, fornication, divorce, contraception, homosexuality, euthanasia, Capital Punishment, and so forth, causes some people to be upset. He fears this anger, he fears offending people, he fears being misunderstood.... He chooses to preach only in abstractions and generalities. It is enough to exhort people to be a little more kind, a little more generous, but specificity he avoids. He does this because he fears man more than God. That God might be displeased that his people are not hearing the truth on the important moral issues of the day, or receiving proper instruction in the disciplines of discipleship is a vague and distant fear to this priest. But one person raising an eyebrow at what he says is enough to ruin his whole week.

I doubt you can avoid raising a single eyebrow without lowering a whole lot of eyelids. But let me offer this partial defense of the pusillanimous pastor:

First, I question how well suited the homily, as currently understood and practiced, really is for providing "proper instruction in the disciplines of discipleship." The General Instruction of the Roman Missal instructs that the homily

should be an exposition of some aspect of the readings from Sacred Scripture or of another text from the Ordinary or from the Proper of the Mass of the day and should take into account both the mystery being celebrated and the particular needs of the listeners. [65]

By design, then, the homily is to be constrained by the other words read at Mass, as well as by the disposition of the audience -- which, in general, includes plenty of bruised weeds and smouldering wicks (to say nothing of young children).

Relatedly, and meaning no disrespect toward our priests, I question how many homilists could do a decent job homilizing on a tough issue anyway. Think about the quality of the last homily you heard on, say, forgiveness or humility, the sort of subject no one objects to hearing about in church. Would you expect the man who gave that homily to give an effective homily -- meaning one that, on the whole, does more good than harm -- on, say, contraception?

Still, I'd guess that a bad homily on forgiveness is likely to be better than a bad homily on contraception, so I can understand why a homilist might choose the former rather than the latter (quite apart from the frequency with which these themes are suggested by the readings).

Finally, one of the reasons effective homilies on contraception are likely to be thin on the ground (improbable, perhaps, even as a percentage of homilies on contraception) is that the reception of a hard lesson depends greatly on the authority of the teacher. Gone are the days in which the laity grants the pastor authority simply by virtue of his office. (And let's say nothing of the freshfaced baby priests.) Achieving the level of authority required to impart a message the laity aren't predisposed to receive is not easy to do, particularly when a priest is only around for three or six years.

The above are reasons it may well be prudent, in the circs., for a homilist to avoid a third-rail homily. Fearing man more than God is not such a reason -- although, I suppose, if a man rightly understand that he does fear man more than God and would therefore make a complete hash out of an attempt to preach against his listeners' wishes, then maybe he should work on his fear of God before working on his homily against contraception.

I still get a kick out of Blogger's spell-checker flagging "homilist" and recommending "homeliest." There's a lesson in homility there. ("Homility" is the feeling felt by the priest in the old story: After Mass, old Mrs. O'Malley told him, "That was a lovely homily, Father," prompting him to say, "Thank you. I just try to let the Holy Spirit speak through me," to which she answered, "It wasn't that good.")

2011-07-13T09:31:00.002-04:00

"It is about who we are"

A speech this morning on the U.S. Senate floor by Senator John McCain:

Excerpt:

In fact, not only did the use of "enhanced interrogation techniques" on Khalid Sheikh Mohammed not provide us with key leads on bin Laden's courier, Abu Ahmed; it actually produced false and misleading information...

I have sought further information from the staff of the Senate Intelligence Committee, and they confirm for me that, in fact, the best intelligence gained from a CIA detainee — information describing Abu Ahmed al-Kuwaiti's real role in Al-Qaeda and his true relationship to Osama bin Laden — was obtained through standard, non-coercive means, not through any "enhanced interrogation technique."

In short, it was not torture or cruel, inhuman, and degrading treatment of detainees that got us the major leads that ultimately enabled our intelligence community to find Osama bin Laden. I hope former Attorney General Mukasey will correct his misstatement. It's important that he do so because we are again engaged in this important debate, with much at stake for America's security and reputation. Each side should make its own case, but do so without making up its own facts.

This is a follow-up to his op-ed that ran in the Washington Post this morning, in which he writes:

Individuals might forfeit their life as punishment for breaking laws, but even then, as recognized in our Constitution’s prohibition of cruel and unusual punishment, they are still entitled to respect for their basic human dignity, even if they have denied that respect to others.

All of these arguments have the force of right, but they are beside the most important point. Ultimately, this is more than a utilitarian debate. This is a moral debate. It is about who we are.

[Links via The Plum Line.]

2011-07-11T11:22:00.001-04:00

Just a pinch

Those who are worthy of Jesus are not citizens of the world, and the world knows this.

That is, the world knows its own, and it knows that Jesus is not one of its own.

The world also knows how to test those who say they belong to Jesus. In this way, the world understands His message better than a lot of Christians who are trying to preach it to the world.

“If you believe what you yourself say,” the world correctly reasons, “then you won’t offer this pinch of incense to our gods.”

The world does not require fidelity to its own gods, at least not when fidelity would be inconvenient. It merely requires infidelity to any god opposed to its own gods. Rail all you want against the world; as long as the world knows you don’t really mean it, you’ll be welcomed as a fellow citizen of the world. The world has a special place in its heart for hypocrites.

The Christian is at a disadvantage before the world. The world is not only rulemaker, opponent, referee, and scorekeeper; it’s also the playing field, home town crowd, and teammate.

And when you think of it, what’s a pinch of incense anyway? It’s just something people do and think no more about. If a pinch of incense – offered, needless to say, with full mental reservation – is what it takes to live a quiet life, go to church, raise your children in the Faith as best you can, witness to the world as best you can, then that’s what it takes. Surely God understands… if, that is, there’s even anything to understand in this business that’s no big deal, that everyone does, that’s perfectly consistent with the Faith, that only fanatics would complain about.

But the world, shrewd as a snake, knows better. And God knows better. And so should His people, the disciples of His Son. The Christian should be wise as a serpent, not to become one himself, but to overcome them all.

2011-07-09T08:36:00.002-04:00

Noted

Matthew 10:38 records this astonishing saying of Jesus:

Whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me.

We may not be too astonished by this today -- my own parish church, for example, has a twelve-foot high crucifix hanging from the ceiling above the altar, in case anyone forgets what happened.

But, in Matthew's telling, this is part of the instruction Jesus gives the Apostles before sending them out to preach that the kingdom of heaven is at hand. My guess: they weren't thinking, as they accepted authority over unclean spirits and diseases, that the kingdom of heaven was going to be founded upon a crucifixion.

The NAB has a note on this verse:

The first mention of the cross in Matthew, explicitly that of the disciple, but implicitly that of Jesus (and follow after me). Crucifixion was a form of capital punishment used by the Romans for offenders who were not Roman citizens.

I knew that about crucifixion being reserved for non-citizens, but only now have I noticed the spiritual implication of this most secular law: those who are worthy of Jesus are not citizens of the world, and the world knows this.

2011-07-07T10:43:00.002-04:00

In case of a fall

2011-07-05T09:28:00.002-04:00

You don't have to be hypostatically united to the Godhead, but it helps

In Book XIV, Chapter 8 of his De Trinitate, St. Augustine writes that the human mind is God's image

in this very point, that it is capable of Him, and can be partaker of Him; which so great good is only made possible by its being His image.

This is, as far as I can tell, the source of the term "capax Dei," which refers to the doctrine -- or maybe it's just an observation -- that, through his reason, man is able to know and love God.

St. Thomas extends the teaching in e.g. his Commentary on Psalm 8:

Also, [God] does not have only care for man, but He has a familiarity with him; and this why [the psalmist] says, "That thou art mindful of him." [v.5] Only the rational nature is capable of God [Sola natura rationalis est capax Dei], to know Him, and to love Him. Inasmuch therefore as God makes Himself present to us, by love or cognition, He cares for us: Job 10[:12b]: "And thy visitation hath preserved my spirit."

Man's capacity for God is, of course, most perfectly demonstrated by the man Jesus. There's a lot of theological speculation about Jesus' human knowledge of God, but we shouldn't neglect His human love of God. Moreover, devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus shouldn't neglect the fact that, with the same human heart with which He loves us, He loves the Father (and Himself, and the Holy Spirit).

Knowing that we are capable of God, and having Jesus as our example of that capability, what sort of false self-love must we have if we settle for less than God?

2011-06-17T12:31:00.002-04:00

From the mailbag

Hi there Disputations,

My name is [X]. I'm a junior at [university] and am interning at [godawful pop filth radio station] this summer. I was wondering if you would possibly be interested in publishing a blog with this link or voting yourself in our Hotty awards which determine the hottest food, people, places, and things going on in DC. I am attempting to get as many people to hear about this as possible so we know what is the best of the best!!! Check it out and please get back to me when you have a chance. Thanks.

Here's a link to the page:
[link]

Sincerely,
[X]

Sincerely, no.

2011-06-12T12:13:00.002-04:00

He proceeds as the first gift

In the Summa Theologiae, St. Thomas assigns three proper names to the Holy Spirit: Holy Spirit ("Spiritus Sanctus"), Love ("Amor"), and Gift ("Donum"). (Similarly, the Son is properly named Son, Word, and Image.)

That the Holy Spirit is called the Holy Spirit is something all Christians should know. Most of us, I bet, could even fumble our way toward a reason. "Well, He's holy, right? And He's a spirit. So, yeah."

This is much of the way toward St. Augustine's explanation, which St. Thomas quotes:

...both the Father is a Spirit, and the Son is a Spirit; and both the Father is holy, and the Son is holy -- as piety doubts not. And yet [the Holy Spirit] is specially called "the Holy Spirit"; for because He is common to both, He is specially called that which both are in common.

That the Holy Spirit is specially called "Love" may also sound familiar to a lot of Christians, who are used to saying things like, "The Holy Spirit is the love the Father and the Son have for each other." This too is thoroughly Augustinian:

And the Holy Spirit, according to the Holy Scriptures, is neither of the Father alone, nor of the Son alone, but of both; and so intimates to us a mutual love, wherewith the Father and the Son reciprocally love one another.

I suspect, though, that polling Christians on the question, "Who is the Gift of God?," would show a sizable response of, "Jesus." And why not? Isaiah, after all, famously prophesied, "A son is given to us."

To this, St. Thomas answers:

As the Son is properly called the Image because He proceeds by way of a word, whose nature it is to be the similitude of its principle, although the Holy Ghost also is like to the Father; so also, because the Holy Ghost proceeds from the Father as love, He is properly called Gift, although the Son, too, is given.

That is, both the Son and the Holy Spirit proceed from the Father. But the Son proceeds as Word, and to proceed as word is to be an image. The Holy Spirit, on the other hand, proceeds as Love, and to proceed as love is to be a gift. How so? According to St. Thomas,

a gift is properly ... a thing which is not given with the intention of a return -- and it thus contains the idea of a gratuitous donation. Now, the reason of donation being gratuitous is love; since therefore do we give something to anyone gratuitously forasmuch as we wish him well. So what we first give him is the love whereby we wish him well. Hence it is manifest that love has the nature of a first gift, through which all free gifts are given. So since the Holy Ghost proceeds as love, as stated above, He proceeds as the first gift.

So when we speak of the "gifts of the Holy Spirit," we are presuming the first gift of the Spirit Himself.

2011-05-28T18:37:00.005-04:00

Resolving terminology

WHEREAS the term "pro-life" was coined in 1973 by anti-abortion advocates to present their position in a positive light; and

whereas attempts to insist that the term always bear a broader meaning are therefore unfounded acts of spurious etymology; and

whereas my own proposal for broadening the meaning went exactly nowhere; and

whereas criticism of persons and organizations who identify themselves as "pro-life" that are based on arguments that they do not advocate every position that might be implied if the term had a broader meaning is therefore ill-founded; and

whereas such criticism is very often ad hominem political posturing;

Therefore I am resolved to let people say "pro-life" if they mean "anti-abortion," while at the same time reserving the right to ask, "~~Yes, but~~ Great, and are they pro-Fifth Commandment?"

UPDATE: Reserved question reworded to be less ~~obnoxious~~ confrontational.

2011-05-26T13:42:00.003-04:00

A lapse in judgment

Mark Shea links to a curious article by moral theologian Janet Smith in First Things, in which she argues that St. Thomas was wrong to conclude that "false signification" -- what normal people would call "lying" -- is always sinful.

The nub or crux of their disagreement is this:

St. Thomas taught that every lie is a sin -- more precisely, that every act by which "a person intends to say what is false" is "evil in respect of its genus" -- because, "as words are naturally signs of intellectual acts, it is unnatural and undue for anyone to signify by words something that is not in his mind."
Prof. Smith thinks it can be both natural and due to signify by words something that is not in your mind.

That much is unremarkable; the list of Church Fathers and Doctors who disagree with St. Thomas on this point is probably longer than the list of those who agree. What I find curious is how much attention Prof. Smith pays to why St. Thomas was wrong:

The mistake that Aquinas makes (and those words do stick in my throat!) is that he analyzes the question of lying with a prelapsarian understanding of the purpose of signification—an understanding that presumes the innocence of man before the Fall.

There follows, in the remaining 1,800 words, fifteen more mentions of "-lapsarian" things, both "pre-" and "post-."

That's a whole bunch of lapsarianism.

What makes it odd is that none of it is necessary. If she had left out the whole -lapsarian angle, if she had left it at, "This is what he says is the nature of speech, this is what I say it is, and this is why what I say it is is right," then she wouldn't have had to beg the question of whether there is a prelapsarian nature of speech different from a postlapsarian nature.

As it is, by allowing that "the purpose of signification in the postlapsarian world" is not "the same as that in the prelapsarian world," she is obliged, I think, to explain how the Fall changed the nature of speech. Not just the circumstances in which we might speak, but what speech is. If St. Thomas was right about what speech was before the Fall, and if the Fall didn't change what speech is, then St. Thomas is right about what speech is now.

Explaining how the Fall changed the nature of speech is a tall order -- one not made easier by the fact that we hold by faith that the unchanging God spoke to Adam and continued to speak to fallen man. Had Prof. Smith hewn to Ockham's Razor and not made her thesis more complicated than necessary, she wouldn't have that obligation, and she might even have come up with better arguments for her position than, "What culture doesn’t permit spying, police sting operations, and research programs involving deception, let alone jocose lies and social courtesies involving falsehood?"

2011-05-25T12:13:00.002-04:00

A winning issue

In a comment on a post below, Sherry Weddell writes:

A while back, I was speaking at a conference with Archbishop Chaput and listened to him passionately plead with his audience to GO INTO POLITICS. But all his audience wanted to talk about was how to force their bishop to issue statements - as though that make the parties all jump to attention.

True, episcopal statements change few minds. And there's an irony in the fact that the people I've run into who are most vocal about the need for their bishop to issue a statement are similarly vocal about how untrustworthy their bishop is as shepherd.

Nevertheless, focusing on getting your bishop to issue statements is a winning proposition.

If your bishop does what you want him to do -- he issues a statement you want him to issue; he doesn't issue a statement you don't want him to issue -- then your righteousness has been confirmed.
If your bishop doesn't do what you want him to do -- he doesn't issue a statement you want him to issue; he issues a statement you don't want him to issue -- then your righteous indignation has been confirmed.

Either way, you're in clover.

2011-05-23T12:05:00.003-04:00

But compared to his brother, this man was a saint!

As Robert King points out in a comment, a parallel question to that asked in my previous post could be asked of Catholic Democrats:

How about if, instead of arm-twisting Catholics to vote for lousy Democratic candidates, you arm-twist Democrats to nominate good candidates?

Honestly, though, I don't know how many Catholic Democrats there are who arm-twist other Catholics to vote Democratic and are themselves still capable of arm-twisting other Democrats.

2011-05-20T15:24:00.004-04:00

In law, it's called "extortion"

In politics, it's called "annexation."

In pro-life Catholic circles, it's called "voter guides."

Here's a thought: How about if, instead of arm-twisting Catholics to vote for lousy Republican candidates, you arm-twist Republicans to nominate good candidates?

2011-05-14T08:34:00.003-04:00

A useful illustration

In a perfectly reasonable comment on the post below, Philip writes:

The lesser evil is still evil. I agree. Though as Catholics we are sometimes faced with individuals who advocate evil who are running for office. Can we vote for them?

In writing this, he makes his own small contribution to perpetuating the cycle of candidates who advocate evil.

Can we vote for individuals who advocate evil who are running for office?

No.

We can't vote for them. We can't vote for them because there are no elections being held today.

Why is anyone talking about voting? Now is not the time to talk about voting. Now is the time to talk about promoting candidates who don't advocate evil.

If instead of talking today about what we should do today, we talk today about what we should do in a year and a half, we are acting in a way that turns false dilemmas into real ones.

Why do we do this?

2011-05-14T06:55:00.002-04:00

Next year's dilemma is this year's false dilemma

A few responses to a few responses to my post below that asked what the hell is wrong with Republican Catholics (some of these responses were eaten during this week's Blogger.com flu):

1. That a candidate may not agree that waterboarding is torture is irrelevant to the question of whether he supports torture. If anything, that he supports torture without realizing it is grounds for rejecting a candidate as too muddle-headed for the job.

2. And yes, the Church has not officially taught that waterboarding is torture. But I'm not stating that waterboarding is torture because it's Catholic doctrine. I'm stating it because it's true.

3. My issue here is not with politicians. My issue here is with Roman Catholics who enthusiastically endorse politicians who advocate grave evil. If Catholics didn't vote for these politicians, they wouldn't be politicians anymore, they'd be cable news pundits. As Anita Moore says in a comment below:

We're not going to get candidates who don't advocate grave evil until we repent, convert and otherwise straighten up.

4. The proportionality argument -- that the other party's grave evils are much more grave and evil than our party's -- is a complete nonstarter.

Let me retype that, since the proportionality argument ("70% Less Evil Than The Other Leading Brand!") is a popular one:

Whether torture is a less important issue than abortion is completely irrelevant today.

Today is May 14, 2011. The general election for U.S. President is a year and a half away. The ballots have not yet been printed. There is no choice to be made today between a candidate who supports torture and a candidate who supports abortion.

Again: There is no choice to be made today between a candidate who supports torture and a candidate who supports abortion.

The choice to be made today is whether I am satisfied with choosing between a candidate who supports torture and a candidate who supports abortion.

2011-05-11T15:52:00.003-04:00

What the hell is the matter with Republican Catholics?

In particular, what the hell is the matter with you, Deacon Keith A. Fournier?

A vote for Rick Santorum would be material cooperation in grave evil.

A vote for Tim Pawlenty would be material cooperation in grave evil.

A vote for Herman Cain would be material cooperation in grave evil.

Just say no.

(Image source.)

2011-05-11T09:38:00.003-04:00

In the Spring, a young wombat's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of play

Image stolen from Daily Squee.

2011-05-10T11:40:00.002-04:00

The ugliest art that mankind is producing

Mark Shea quotes a Barbara Nicolosi podcast:

The art made by Christians today is not only not beautiful, but tends to be among the ugliest art that mankind is producing.

Mark offers a reason:

I think it's the "Little Drummer Boy" effect. Art that sucks (Music=pa rum pa pum pum) is thought to be humble. Art that's good is fancy pants aesthetics that those damn bi-coastal Blue Staters like. So Christians make sucky art and pride themselves on their humility. Til "suck" is decoupled from "humble" the problem will continue.

I'd suggest it's because the Christians making art today tend to be bad artists.
In particular, they aren't concerned with whether their art is good, they're concerned with whether it's Christian. And if you can't distinguish between good art and Christian art, you're a bad artist.

2011-05-09T12:05:00.003-04:00

Shed for one unto remission of sins?

In a comment on the post below, Fr. Dismas writes:

If Bin Laden had been the only person to fall to sin, then I believe that our Lord would've done whatever it took to redeem him for this life and the next.

This could make an interesting (and perhaps not altogether pointless) thought experiment: Given what faith and reason tell us about the world as it is, what might be the case in a world in which only one person fell?

The one case I really hope would not occur is that God would save the fallen soul without a free act of repentance on the soul's part. I hope this would not occur because I believe God will not save fallen souls in the cosmos He has created without free acts of repentance on the souls' part, and I don't see why freedom and repentance would be any less important to God in the case of a single person than in the case of everyone.

I don't think God would simply let the person die in his sins without offering him a chance to freely repent. That would be treating a human as though he were an angelic being, at least in St. Thomas's conception; at any rate, it would be treating a human as though we are not capable, with God's help, of changing for the better in time.

Would something like the Incarnation, Crucifixion, and Resurrection be the means by which God would offer the one fallen man a chance to freely repent? I suppose it might be, although I can't imagine what a crucifixion would look like in a world with only one sinner.

And if it were, if God were to send His Son into the world to redeem this one sinner, would there be any possibility of the sinner not being saved? Can God's word return to Him empty? We know that none of those given to Jesus are lost; the Incarnation was a complete success, if I may, when measured against its purpose. Would an incarnation be a success if the Son did all that was necessary to redeem the one sinner, yet the one sinner wasn't redeemed?

And what does any of this say about God's mercy and salvation, which we are celebrating this Easter Season?

2011-05-05T11:59:00.003-04:00

The consequences of ignorance

In a previous post, I argued that (apart from canonizations and private revelations) we cannot be certain, either by faith or by knowledge, of anyone's eternal fate. Let me mention a few consequences of this fact that may suggest why it is fitting that we lack the capacity for such certainty.

The first reason is related to Brandon Field's comment on my earlier post:

I'm pretty sure that people who want to rejoice at the idea of another person in Hell don't have an accurate concept of Hell.

If some combination of faith and reason provided the means for us to be certain that a particular person is in hell, then sooner or later the doctrine of damnation would become dull. As it is, we've done a good job of losing interest in the Four Last Things. I'm not sure how much of that is due to unfounded certitude, but I think it would be even worse if we were capable of certainty.

Just look at how dull we find the dogma of the Resurrection of Jesus from the Dead. We can barely make it through an Octave before the Resurrection is buried for another year. That, at least, is a dogma we need to know; certainty in the fate of any one person is not.

Another consequence of uncertainty is that we must respect the virtue of hope. Hope lies in the mean between despair and presumption. It's not easy to maintain that balance. Being uncertain about the fate of anyone else helps train us to hope in (rather than presume or despair of) our own salvation.

A third consequence is that we must respect the freedom of others throughout their lives. Though sin weakens the will and vice makes it harder to choose the good, still we believe that up until the moment of death every human being is capable of turning to God, however imperfectly, in repentance and love. This capacity is something we must acknowledge, in others as well as ourselves.

Another consequence is that we ought to be humbled by our limitations. We don't, we can't, know everything about the life to come. We can't pass a final judgment on anyone. We are not God; we are not His deputies; we are not His advisers; we are not His confidants. We are His servants and His children, and that only by His wholly gratuitous love for us.

The final consequence I'll mention is that we cannot mark the limits of God's mercy. We must confess that it is possible that the worst sinner, with no outward sign, be given the grace to ask for and obtain God's forgiveness. This should be cause for wonder and awe -- as well as the humble acknowledgement that our own hope for salvation lies wholly in God's mercy and not at all in our own virtue.

2011-05-05T08:00:00.003-04:00

What, never deny? Well, hardly ever

Mark Shea has taken another whack at the "miracle of the hidden fish sandwiches," the false notion that Jesus did not feed multitudes miraculously but that "the real miracle" was His moving the hearts of His listeners to share the food they had brought with each other.

As has been noted, in the comments on Mark's article and elsewhere, the "caring and sharing" story flat-out contradicts the written Gospel accounts (not to mention the Near-Eastern culture of hospitality).

I'd suggest there are two reasons why a person might prefer to contradict the Gospels on this point rather than accept them.

One is good old-fashioned rationalism of the 19th Century German stripe, according to which miracles are impossible. What is a rationalist to do with the six accounts of miraculous multiplication of food? Keep the food, get rid of the miracle.

The other is an attraction to the idea that listening to the words of Jesus can and should move our hearts to charity toward our neighbor. For those thinking along these lines, it's not so much that Jesus could not have multiplied the food as that it would be so much more awesome -- greater evidence of His divinity, even -- if instead He made those in the crowd love each other.

This second reason is not, like the first, a direct rejection of the Catholic faith. It is, however, lousy theology. It's an application of the principle, "When the facts contradict your theory, get rid of the facts."

And while such transparently lousy theology should be trampled underfoot, the trampling should be done while recognizing the good intent of the lousy theologian. It's not true that the Gospel accounts of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes is in a direct sense about the love of neighbor Jesus' disciples must have, but there's nothing wrong with thinking about the love of neighbor we must have when you hear those passages. What is wrong is to think only of that.

2011-05-04T09:07:00.003-04:00

Are you sure you're sure?

I sympathize with those who are frustrated by the claim that we can't be sure that Osama bin Ladan is in hell. Hell certainly exists, people can certainly be damned, this man's sins were certainly damnable. How can we not be certain he is damned?

But let me ask it the other way: How can we be certain?

There are two ways to be certain, about anything: knowledge and faith. By faith, we are certain of the universal premise, "All who die in unrepentant moral sin are damned."

By knowledge we are certain of ... actually, we aren't certain of anything. We don't know the state of anyone's soul at death (even a canonization or a private revelation gives certainty only by faith).

We may have a pretty darn firm opinion of the particular proposition, "This man died in unrepentant mortal sin." But -- and this just adds to the frustration, especially for think-out-loud moderns -- we have been commanded by God to abandon opinions of that kind of particular proposition.

Rather than being frustrated by the commandment against judging even in the most obvious cases, rather than being frustrated even by those who go too far in saying, "If we can't be certain any one person is damned, we can be certain no one is," we might profitably meditate on the why of the commandment, on the meaning and effects of that epistemological gap, unbridgeable in this life however short it may appear, between the premises we accept by faith and the conclusion we all but can't help jump to.

2011-05-01T09:20:00.002-04:00

Catching up with the de facto

On April 8, 2005, I wrote:

What was shown to two billion people today wasn't only a funeral Mass, it was also an act of canonization.

While waiting for the de jure to catch up with the de facto, I will refer to the late pope as the blessed John Paul.

So, yay!

2011-04-30T17:58:00.003-04:00

The difficulty of being in filth and not defiled

I should add that St. Catherine's prescription for the proper use of possessions does come with side-effects:

Which charity and love unspeakable, when it is in the soul, holds itself not content in the common state, but desires to advance further. Thus from mental poverty it desires to advance to actual, and from mental continence to actual; to observe the Counsels as well as the Commandments of Christ; for it begins to feel aversion for the dunghill of the world. And because it sees the difficulty of being in filth and not defiled, it longs with breathless desire and burning charity to free itself by one act from the world so far as possible. If it is not able to escape in deed, it studies to be perfect in its own place. At least, it does not lack desire.

If you want to hold your possessions as a true disciple of Christ, you run the risk of wanting to let go of your possessions as a true disciple of Christ. And that can make for awkward conversations with family.

2011-04-29T12:42:00.002-04:00

Never lost with sorrow

More from St. Catherine of Siena's letter to Lorenzo del Pino, in which she addresses the question of how a Christian might live in the world:

A man can hold to riches and worldly place if he likes, and he does not wrong God nor his own soul; but it would be greater perfection if he renounced them, because there is more perfection in renunciation than in possession. If he does not wish to renounce them in deed, he ought to renounce and abandon them with holy desire, and not to place his chief affections upon them, but upon God alone; and let him keep these things to serve his own needs and those of his family, like a thing that is lent and not like his own. So doing, he will never suffer pain from any created thing; for a thing that is not possessed with love is never lost with sorrow...

[All things] should be possessed with moderation in the light of reason, loved in such wise as they should be loved. And he who holds them thus will not hold them with the help of sin, but with grace; with generosity of heart, and not with avarice; in pity for the poor, and not in cruelty; in humility, not in pride; in gratitude, not in ingratitude: and will recognize that his possessions come from his Creator, and not himself.

So there you have it, Dr. Benincasa's prescription to avoid wronging God or your soul through your possessions.

No wonder it's easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle.

2011-04-29T10:14:00.002-04:00

The truth of the Eternal Father

From a letter of St. Catherine of Siena to Lorenzo del Pino:

Dearest brother and son in Christ sweet Jesus:

I Catherine, servant and slave of the servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood: with desire to see you a lover and follower of truth and a despiser of falsehood. But this truth cannot be possessed or loved if it is not known. Who is Truth? God is the Highest and Eternal Truth. In whom shall we know Him? In Christ sweet Jesus, for He shows us with His Blood the truth of the Eternal Father.

His truth toward us is this, that He created us in His image and likeness to give us life eternal, that we might share and enjoy His Good. But through man's sin this truth was not fulfilled in him, and therefore God gave us the Word His Son, and imposed this obedience on Him, that He should restore man to grace through much endurance, purging the sin of man in His own Person, and manifesting His truth in His Blood.

So man knows, by the unsearchable love which he finds shown to him through the Blood of Christ crucified, that God nor seeks nor wills aught but our sanctification.

There is here, I think, a point not always appreciated.

It's common to react to the idea that Jesus' death was "necessary" with the objection that it seems monstrous for the Father to require His Son to die in agony. What's overlooked is that His Son's agonizing death is a reflection of the Father's own unsearchable love for us and desire for our sanctification.

2011-04-28T08:48:00.002-04:00

A harrowing thought

In comments on the post below, Gyan has suggested that a "modern conception" of the Harrowing of Hell recognizes that, since it "is a supernatural event, it is outside our space-time and can not be properly said to precede or succeed any event in our space-time"; and that the Pope's answer to the question, "What is Jesus doing in the time between His death and resurrection?," follows this modern conception.

As a rule, I take the broad, flexible outlook on suggestions that relationships between the various states of existence are more complex than we might think. But try as I might, I can't quite square Gyan's suggestion -- which sounds harmless enough in C.S. Lewis's formulation, "all the moments are in this moment" -- with Church teaching.

Specifically, the Church teaching that divides human history into three eras:

From the creation of man to the Fall: Death had not yet entered the world.
From the Fall to Jesus' death on the Cross: The souls of all who died went to Hell, where righteous and unrighteous alike were deprived of the vision of God.
From Jesus' Resurrection until His return: The souls of the righteous are purified, if necessary, and then enter into the presence of God. The souls of the unrighteous go to Hell.

The dogma of Jesus' descent into Hell teaches us that Jesus' soul experienced the same fate as those who had died before Him, but that He then led the righteous souls, who through Adam's sin were bound to await their Redeemer without being able to see the Face of God, to Heaven. (And of course the dogma of the Second Coming finishes the story with the Final Judgment, confirming the eternal destiny of each of us.)

If the above is true, then it can't be true that Jesus' descent into Hell led the souls of all the righteous, from the creation of man through the Second Coming, from Hell into the presence of the Living God. Moreover, this notion that "all the moments are in this moment" is profoundly contrary to the Easter message that death has been defeated and that we -- as we live and walk about and eat chocolate -- are already redeemed.

Moreover, I don't think we can even say that the credal statement "He descended to the dead" can refer to both the traditional doctrine of Jesus meeting souls in Hell and the encounter Jesus has with the souls of the righteous who die after He rose. I say this because, as I mentioned above, the Creed refers to the fact that Jesus was dead when He descended to the dead, and now He is Risen. The difference between "dead" and "living" is simply too great to support that broad and flexible of a reading.

2011-04-23T08:14:00.005-04:00

The Past of the Patriarchs

Holy Saturday posts have notoriously short shelf lives, but let me quote Pope Benedict XVI answering a question on Jesus' descent into Hell:

First of all, this descent of Jesus' soul should not be imagined as a geographical or a spatial trip, from one continent to another. It is the soul's journey. We have to remember that Jesus' soul always touches the Father, it is always in contact with the Father but, at the same time, this human soul extends to the very borders of the human being. In this sense it goes into the depths, into the lost places, to where all who do not arrive at their life's goal go, thus transcending the continents of the past. This word about the Lord's descent into Hell mainly means that Jesus reaches even the past, that the effectiveness of the Redemption does not begin in the year 0 or 30, but also goes to the past, embraces the past, all men and women of all time. The Church Fathers say, with a very beautiful image, that Jesus takes Adam and Eve, that is, humanity, by the hand and guides them forward, guides them on high. He thus creates access to God because humanity, on its own cannot arrive at God's level. He himself, being man, can take humanity by the hand and open the access. To what? To the reality we call Heaven. So this descent into Hell, that is, into the depth of the human being, into humanity's past, is an essential part of Jesus' mission, of His mission as Redeemer, and does not apply to us. Our lives are different. We are already redeemed by the Lord and we arrive before the Judge, after our death, under Jesus' gaze. On one had, this gaze will be purifying: I think that all of us, in greater or lesser measure, are in need of purification. Jesus’ gaze purifies us, thus making us capable of living with God, of living with the Saints, and above all of living in communion with those dear to us who have preceded us.

It's an interesting perspective, to speak of meeting people who have been waiting as reaching back into the past. It's a way of expressing God's loving-kindness for those who died before Jesus, that their salvation wasn't an afterthought or something squeezed in during some down time on a very busy weekend.

(Link via Whispers in the Loggia.)

2011-04-22T08:21:00.003-04:00

Division: the Good

Do not think that I came to send peace upon earth: I came not to send peace, but the sword. -- Mt. 10:34

The sword that Jesus came to send is Himself, the image of the invisible God; "the word of God is living and effective, sharper than any two-edged sword."

The sword of Jesus divides the earth into those who belong to God and those who don't. Here is an image of the God to whom some belong and others don't:

Little wonder that the call, "Follow me," causes strife within households, and even within individuals.

2011-04-21T14:19:00.002-04:00

Dividing line

The other day, I quoted this statement from a 2008 papal homily:

I ask you, in the Lord Jesus, to set aside all division and to work with joy to prepare a way for him, in fidelity to his word and in constant conversion to his will.

This echos St. Paul's request to the Corinthians:

I urge you, brothers, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree in what you say, and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and in the same purpose.

Jude too warns of divisions:

"In the last time there will be scoffers who will live according to their own godless desires." These are the ones who cause divisions; they live on the natural plane, devoid of the Spirit.

Yet not all who cause divisions are bad:

Do you think that I have come to establish peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division.

One thing all these kinds of division have in common is divisiveness. They don't merely define a partition among the people, they give rise to enmity and strife between the partitions.

2011-04-20T08:21:00.000-04:00

Purely coincidental

"O Lord," I prayed, "silence the tongue of anyone who would teach false doctrine."

Then my Internet connection went down.

2011-04-19T21:15:00.002-04:00

Who are you calling a pearl?

Speaking of speaking of Jesus ransoming us from death, here's 2 Peter 2:1:

There were also false prophets among the people, just as there will be false teachers among you, who will introduce destructive heresies and even deny the Master who ransomed them, bringing swift destruction on themselves.

The word the NAB translates as "ransomed" is "αγορασαντα," "bought." (Hence the Douay Rheims's "deny the Lord who bought them.") That same verb (αγοραζω) is used thirty times in the New Testament, including these two parables in Matthew:

The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure buried in a field, which a person finds and hides again, and out of joy goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.

Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant searching for fine pearls. When he finds a pearl of great price, he goes and sells all that he has and buys it.

So there you are. Jesus, that mad lover, found a pearl of great price -- that'd be you, Spanky -- and sold all He had to buy it.

2011-04-19T14:54:00.002-04:00

Idolatry, witchcrafts, enmities, contentions, emulations, wraths, quarrels, dissensions, sects

Did you know that the Bible predicted RSS aggregators more than 1,950 years before they were invented?

Ha, no, those are some of the works of the flesh St. Paul warned the Galatians against. It just sounds like a description of Internet communications because Internet communicators as a class aren't guided by the Spirit. (Well, and those blogs full of charity, joy, peace, patience, benignity, goodness, longanimity, mildness, faith, modesty, continency, and chastity don't get aggregated as often.)

2011-04-18T18:41:00.007-04:00

Cardinal Wuerl: The crackdowns will continue until disputations resume

In 2007, Sr. Elizabeth Johnson, a theology professor at Fordham University, published a book called Quest for the Living God: Mapping Frontiers in the Theology of God.

Last month, the USCCB Committee on Doctrine issued a statement on the book, to the effect that "this book contains misrepresentations, ambiguities, and errors that bear upon the faith of the Catholic Church as found in Sacred Scripture, and as it is authentically taught by the Church's universal magisterium."

In short, the bishops concluded that Sr. Elizabeth just made a bunch of stuff up and tried to pass it off as legitimate Catholic theology.

Sr. Elizabeth is kind of a big deal in circles that like to make a bunch of stuff up and pass it off as legitimate Catholic theology. And on a completely unrelated note, Quest for the Living God won First Place in Theology at the 2008 Catholic Theological Society of America convention. So it's little surprise that many of the officers and directors of CTSA objected to the bishops' statement. Among their complaints is "that this criticism of Professor Johnson's work seems to reflect a very narrow understanding of the theological task."

Donald Cardinal Wuerl, chairman of the bishops' Committee on Doctrine, don't play that game.

Once ideas are written and published by a theologian, they must stand on their own; it is the bishops who are entrusted with the office of referee, who must call the play. To be sure, as in other disciplines the most effective check on fruitless investigation is the vigorous exercise of peer review, critique, and dialogue, as once was a strong tradition in the theological disciplines. When that peer review is absent or ineffective, however, it is the responsibility of the bishop to make the call and to declare, if necessary, certain notions out of bounds, the bounds of Christian revelation. [emphasis added]

If theologians don't care whether the books they celebrate lie within the bounds of Christian revelation, says his Eminence, then they can hardly complain when bishops do.

2011-04-18T18:27:00.003-04:00

3 years and 1 day ago

The Pope presided at Mass at Washington Nationals Stadium on April 17, 2008. In his homily, he invited, he asked, he urged:

"In hope we were saved!"(Rom 8:24). As the Church in the United States gives thanks for the blessings of the past two hundred years, I invite you, your families, and every parish and religious community, to trust in the power of grace to create a future of promise for God's people in this country. I ask you, in the Lord Jesus, to set aside all division and to work with joy to prepare a way for him, in fidelity to his word and in constant conversion to his will. Above all, I urge you to continue to be a leaven of evangelical hope in American society, striving to bring the light and truth of the Gospel to the task of building an ever more just and free world for generations yet to come.

The invitation, the request, the urgency remain.

2011-04-18T12:14:00.002-04:00

The Bluebird of Unhappiness

Well, how would you feel if it snowed a foot on April 18?

(Picture via Glacier National Park's Twitter feed.)

2011-04-18T09:55:00.002-04:00

No sale

In reply to a comment from A Random Friar on my "Payment without receipt" post, I wrote:

I think we do need to keep the connotation of "buyer" -- Jesus wasn't waving a divine hand and saying, "Fiat redemptio," on the cross.

I also think we need to get rid of the connotation of "seller," largely for the reasons CowPi indicated in his earlier comment. The devil didn't sell us to God, and the Father isn't a slaveholder.

A Random Friar replied:

Tom, I'm a little confused. You said, "I think we do need to keep..." and next para. "I also think we need to get rid of." Was the first sentence to say we do not need to keep?

Anyway, for my part I understand that a tit-for-tat commerce exchange does not work, but the writings seem to use that sort of vocabulary, and not entirely without some sort of justification, if we understand it right.

In a short week, we will be singing in the Exsultet "for Christ has ransomed us with His blood and paid for us the price of Adam's sin to our eternal Father!" Now, this can't be 3(b). 3(d) works fine here. We were not "sold" to the Father, but we were rescued from our state of sin and death.

God could have done it most any way, but I think part of the reason here, besides leaving us a concrete example of what it means to be a Christian, is to remind us: love means sacrifice. Sometimes even to the point of laying down one's life.

On the last point, I agree completely.

On the first point: no, I wrote what I meant.

What I'm trying to get at is that we should understand Jesus' salvific act as a ransom in the sense that it cost Him greatly, but not in the sense that the price He paid was paid to someone -- the words of the Exsultet notwithstanding.

Obviously, the words of the Exsultet will withstand anything I say, but I'd suggest they must be understood in a sense that precludes any thought of the Father trading our blood for His Son's. Taking our ransom or redemption in too thoroughly commercial a sense makes the Father seem petty and bloodthirsty. "Adam has sinned? Well, somebody's going to pay!"

It's easy for people to see that "petty and bloodthirsty" and "all-loving" are mutually exclusive attributes; it's all too common for people to exclude "all-loving," rather than "petty and bloodthirsty," from God as preached by the Church.^* So while language along the lines of "Jesus paid our debt to the Father" is orthodox, it is also pastorally problematic to use it with people whose faith in God's loving-kindness is not already firm.

I'll go further: An act of commerce between the Father and the Son is impossible. What we experience as an exchange or trade is experienced within the Godhead as a gift of love (what else, after all, is there within the Godhead?).

* The preference for "petty" over "all-loving" might be explained according to St. Catherine's doctrine that, in approaching God, we pass through servile fear before filial love. If we fear God without loving Him, then of course we'd resolve the contradiction with "petty" rather than "all-loving."

2011-04-17T12:37:00.002-04:00

A perspective to be set aside

Several years ago, I came across an article by Michael Sherwin, OP, that included this simile:

Just as a compress stops the bleeding, but does not heal the wound, so too the theology of the Baroque period kept the faithful from spilling into the errors of the day, but it did not heal the wounds caused by nominalism, voluntarism, and the rationalism of the early Enlightenment. For this reason, just as a bandage must be removed before the wound can fully heal, so too the perspective of the manuals had to be set aside before the wounds in moral theology could be healed.

A wounded man may need a bandage, but we should never mistake the bandage for something essential to the man.

We don't worry much these days about the theology of the Baroque period, or how manualism opposes nominalism and voluntarism without itself being a full expression of moral theology. But maybe we should worry a little bit more.

I say that because I think some Catholics are opposing the errors of the day by asserting the manualism of the day as the One True Faith. The manualism of the day, which for the most part rests on little or no ecclesial authority, is a rule-based morality of a notably rigorist bent, with a whole set of ad hoc rules of orthodoxy and orthopraxis tacked on.

You might guess that I don't think much of the manualism of the day. I'd think a little more of it if its proponents made the proper distinction between it and the Catholic Faith, but I'm not sure they realize they aren't the same thing.

And that's where the theology of the Baroque period comes in. The manualism that arose in response to the needs of the Counter-Reformation lingered on in various ways until the Second Vatican Council, to an extent (I would suggest) that a lot of people today think that manualism constitutes Catholicism.

If you understand Catholicism in terms of adherence to rules, though, you need a rule for everything you understand. And it's hard to tell when you don't understand something, because the rules will always tell you whether something is part of Catholicism. And if the rules give you an answer you think is wrong, you can add a rule to correct it (the correct answer being the evidence of authority for the rule).

But Baroque manualism was never intended to be the whole of moral theology, any more than question-and-answer catechisms were intended to be the whole of Church teaching on divine revelation.

To the extent today's manualists fail to understand the function and limits of a manual, they misrepresent the very Faith they are trying to preserve and restore. They wind up denouncing positions that are perfectly legitimate within the Catholic tradition because they are personally unfamiliar with the whole of that tradition.

Moreover, manualism is inherently non-evangelical. It is inward-looking, with nothing to say to those who are not already in the Church. To the extent non-Catholics are told that the Faith is a set of rules, it will be an ugly and unappealing proposition for human happiness. And, frankly, non-Catholics would be right to judge it a false proposition as well, since (as we can know both by faith and reason) following rules does not constitute human happiness.

2011-04-16T11:19:00.002-04:00

From the On-Line Catholic Glossary

Catacombs Porn: morosely delectable descriptions of how really awfully terrible the persecution of Catholics in the United States will be, when the secular atheists take control Real Soon Now. (Usage note: does not apply to descriptions of actual persecution of actual Catholics today, because they're not American so it doesn't really count.)

2011-04-13T10:07:00.001-04:00

Payment without receipt

On the post below, CowPi comments:

I have a question about the use of the word "ransom". Ransom implies an exchange, someone makes a payment and another receives the payment.

If Jesus paid the ransom for us, who did He pay?

Good question. I don't think it's a complete cop-out to answer by quoting the NAB note on Mt 20:28 ("Just so, the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many."):

Ransom: this noun, which occurs in the New Testament only here and in the Marcan parallel (Mark 10:45), does not necessarily express the idea of liberation by payment of some price. The cognate verb is used frequently in the LXX of God's liberating Israel from Egypt or from Babylonia after the Exile; see Exodus 6:6; 15:13; Psalm 77:16 (76 LXX); Isaiah 43:1; 44:22.

In other words, "ransom" doesn't necessarily imply an exchange. Who received the payment when the LORD ransomed captive Israel?

Let me propose an invented-for-this-post taxonomy: We can speak of the general act of freeing a captive, and call this liberation. We can go on to distinguish (at least) three specific types of liberation:

When the captor frees the captive himself; I'll call this manumission.
When someone in authority orders the captor to free the captive; I'll call this emancipation.
When a third party acts to secure the captive's freedom without invoking authority over the one holding him captive; I'll call this ransom or redemption. There are different means to securing a captive's freedom; e.g.:
- forcibly removing the captive from captivity
- effecting circumstances that cause manumission or emancipation
- payment to the captor
- exchanging places with the captive

According to the Scriptural accounts, the LORD's ransom of Israel from Egypt would be an example of forcibly removing the captives from captivity (once Pharaoh reneged on his promise of emancipation); the ransom from Babylonia would be more of an example of effecting the circumstances of emancipation, though the difference between effecting circumstances and direct removal didn't much concern the sacred writers.

And the ransom of the elect from the slavery of sin and death? Well, a price was paid, certainly, but not the kind of price that is paid to someone. It's the kind of price, or maybe "cost" is the better term from economics, that is an evil endured in order to attain some good.^*

Generally, though, I think Christians speak of Jesus taking our place. (This may not sound to us like a plausible form of ransom, but the Mercedarians, for example, were founded with exactly this as their apostolate.)

How, and in what sense, was Jesus able to "take our place"? How did this effect our salvation? Good thing Holy Week's coming up.

* We often speak of people "paying the price" for some achievement -- you win the game at the cost of physical injuries, you meet deadline at the cost of a night's sleep. In ordinary matters, it's generally obvious how the achievement relates to the price; the other team isn't going to step aside while you score, the project will take nine hours to complete and it's due in ten hours. With the Atonement, it's more of a mystery (to say the least).

2011-04-11T13:15:00.000-04:00

Et copiosa apud Eum redemptio

For the most part, two things get redeemed these days: coupons and yourself. You redeem a coupon when you buy 2 low-sodium single-serving ManChow prepared dinners, any flavor. You redeem yourself when you win the championship you didn't win last year.

Given that, yesterday's Psalm refrain --

With the Lord there is mercy and fullness of redemption.

-- might not sound like much more than the formulaic cheering for God freethinkers dismiss Christian worship as. (Though there's more of the formulaic than of the cheering during the Responsorial Psalm at most of the Masses I've attended.)

But the redemption the fullness of which is with God is worth more than $2, or even a trophy. It's a redemption in the old sense of a ransom. God ransoms His people from their slavery.

The statement, "God redeems His people from slavery," neatly summarizes the plot of Scripture; TV listings could use it to describe "Bible: The Movie." But the statement also contains a highway's worth of stumbling blocks.

If you don't think you're enslaved, then you won't care much whether someone redeems you. The slavery from which God redeems His people is slavery to sin and death, but plenty of people are more than willing to accept death as long as they're free to sin. The fleshpots of Egypt have always been an easy sell.

Moreover, if you're redeemed from something, you must be redeemed to something else. If you're blinded by sin, the freedom of the children of God may look just like another form of slavery. Better the devil you know than the God you don't know.

On top of that, the transition from slavery to freedom doesn't happen through Divine fiat. Its cause is an act of redemption, an act of ransom, about as ugly and bloody an act as you can have. If that's not bad enough, God expects His children to act just like Him, to fill up in their flesh what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ. God even thinks it redounds to His glory if He cools His heels while those He loves suffer and die, then uses that suffering and death of others as the means to His own end. Who wants to get mixed up in all that?

The Christian evangelist, which is to say the Christian, must be prepared to guide others past these scandalous parts of the Gospel. He must be able to show how slavery leads to sorrow even when it seems pleasant, how freedom leads to joy even when it seems noxious, how redemption done for the sake of love must be done completely and without reservation or it's not true redemption. And of course, to be able to show that these things are true, he must know them to be true in his own heart.

2011-04-03T12:59:00.002-04:00

Light dawns

How did I miss this? "While I am in the world," Jesus says, "I am the light of the world."

And what's the first thing God does with the world He creates? He says, "Let there be light."

So God the Son is in the world from the beginning as light. As God, He is perfect Act; as act, "light produces every kind of goodness and righteousness and truth," by making what was in darkness visible.

2011-03-30T16:59:00.000-04:00

An unsettling thought

What if Jesus's visit home, as recorded in Luke 4:16-30, is meant to illustrate gratia mere sufficiens, the "merely sufficient" grace that does not result in the recipient acting in accord with it, which some distinguish from gratia efficax, the grace that effects the good God intends by giving the grace?

To put it less Latinly, suppose the townsfolk of Nazareth should have believed what Jesus told them in the synagogue -- "should," not because it just so happened to be true, but because they were given the grace necessary to make an act of faith in Jesus. And suppose their subsequent attempt at deicide can be understood as the logical consequence of resisting that grace.

That would be bad news, wouldn't it, for those who resist grace.

It would mean, I think, that the consequence of resisting grace is to trying to kill the Son of God as the grace resisted is to the grace of believing that Jesus is the Son of God.

Worse, perhaps, it would mean that Jesus will pass through their midst and go away.

2011-03-27T17:31:00.002-04:00

Ecumenical disputations

I only today noticed what an unexpected answer the Samaritan woman at the well gives Jesus when He tells her,

"You are right in saying, 'I do not have a husband.' For you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true."

She's not interested in pursuing the husband angle further. Whether she feels shamed or defiant, she takes prompt advantage of this conversation with a prophet to say,

"Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain; but you people say that the place to worship is in Jerusalem."

She poses a religious contradiction, seeking this prophet's judgment on it. She's a natural born theologian!

And Jesus, being Jesus, knows that it is through her desire to worship God as He desires to be worshipped, and through her hope for the Messiah, that she may come to have faith in Him.

2011-03-25T11:54:00.002-04:00

A well-posed question

Sometimes I read 1 Thes 5:17 -- "Pray without ceasing." -- and wonder, "How can I 'pray without ceasing'?"

Sometimes I think the question I need to answer is, "How can I not?"

2011-03-22T11:55:00.003-04:00

The greatness of service

The NAB translates Mt 23:11 as, "The greatest among you must be your servant." The Douay-Rheims has it, "He that is the greatest among you shall be your servant."

The NAB's "must be" and the DR's "shall be" translate the Greek "estai," which as someone who knows no Greek I think simply means "will be." The verse may be an instruction to the greatest among us -- "Hey, great people! Be a servant to others!" -- but it could also be read as simply a statement of fact: as God measures it, greatness requires service.

What is it about greatness that requires service? I'll suggest this:

God alone is great in Himself. Humans are only great relative to each other, and the fallen human way (Jesus associated it with Gentiles) of expressing greatness is to lord it over others. The more a great man plays the lord, the closer he gets to bumping his head against the ceiling of playing the Lord, and we know how well that works out for humans.

What I mean is, we cannot become like gods by following the way of greatness. None of us is all that great.

But we can become like God by following the way of service -- specifically, the way of the greatest love, of laying down our lives for our friends. We know we can become like God in this way because we know this is the way of Jesus, Who is both God and man.

Once we become like God in this way, what do you know, we've become like Him in His greatness as well, because He will come and dwell with us, and we with Him, and He will acknowledge us as His children forever.

2011-03-21T10:25:00.002-04:00

Judge not, medic yes

Today's Gospel reading includes that saying widely quoted by those who judge that others are judging others:

Judge not, and you shall not be judged.

In practice, the doctrine seems to be interpreted this way: "Whoever condemns what I do not condemn is condemned by this verse. (Oh, and by the way, whoever doesn't condemn what I condemn is condemned by other verses.)"

The rub, of course, is what to make of this teaching in light of the fact that there's plenty of obvious sinning going on around us. The Fathers came up with a variety of interpretations: categorically forgive the sins committed against you; don't condemn others guilty of lesser sins than you have committed; don't judge men lest the habit lead you to judge God; always put the best possible interpretation on actions.

Let me draw attention to St. John Chrysostom's comment (as quoted in the Catena Aurea):

He does not say, "Do not cause a sinner to cease," but do not judge; that is, be not a bitter judge; correct him indeed, but not as an enemy seeking revenge, but as a physician applying a remedy.

A judge and a doctor both are to evaluate evidence, allow for uncertainty, reach a conclusion, and instruct others to act accordingly. The key difference is that the judge acts for purposes of justice, while the doctor acts for purposes of health.^*

Our God, we know, is a God of Justice and a God of Mercy. How Justice and Mercy embrace within God is a mystery, but perhaps Jesus is teaching us that whether we experience His Presence as a presence of Justice or as a Presence of Mercy depends on how others experience our own presence.

* It's probably worth pointing out that I can act as a judge all I want, but I have no authority to insist my judgments are carried out. Quite apart from Christian doctrine, it's silly for me to play judge. (The situation's more complicated for those who actually do have authority to judge, which is yet another reason to pray daily for our bishops.)

At the same time, I'm not particularly qualified to prescribe spiritual medicine in most cases. I recommend "prayer and fasting" more as nutrition than medicine for the spiritual life and encourage those in need to seek the guidance of those holy, wise, and gifted in these matters. Hence "medic," rather than "doctor," in this post's title.

2011-03-15T11:56:00.002-04:00

The place of the test

From the desert of Sin the whole Israelite community journeyed by stages, as the LORD directed, and encamped at Rephidim. Here there was no water for the people to drink.

They quarreled, therefore, with Moses and said, "Give us water to drink."

Moses replied, "Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you put the LORD to a test?"

The test the Israelites put God to at Massah in the desert was not an extravagant one. They weren't looking for anything fancy or flashy, they were looking for water.

Asking God for water is what His people are supposed to do.

But the difference between, "You love us, give us water," and, "If You love us, give us water," is the difference between a prayer and a test, between a relationship of faith and a relationship of contractual obligations.

2011-03-11T12:13:00.001-05:00

Is it March 11 already?

Today is a good day to begin a novena to St. Joseph.

2011-02-24T20:07:00.002-05:00

From Medieval Handbooks of Penance

Anyone who utters a falsehood in words whereof good results, by giving a false description to a man's enemies, or by carrying pacific messages between disputants, or by anything that rescues a man from death, there is no heavy penance, provided it is done for God's sake. -- An Old Irish Penitential, ca. 800

2011-02-22T11:18:00.006-05:00

A not quite entirely unsolicited opinion

Someone asked me what I thought about the controversy over LiveAction's methods (and if you don't know anything about a controversy, or LiveAction, or methods, please don't learn about it on my account; you're probably just as well off watching the Lake McDonald Webcam at Glacier National Park for a few minutes, then going about your day).

Here is what I think:

On the question, "Is lying always a sin?," I think the Church teaches that yes, lying is always a sin.
On the question, "Is every act of intentional verbal misleading a sin?," I think the Church has not given a dogmatic answer, and the preponderance of theological opinion is that no, not every act of intentional verbal misleading is a sin. (Points 1 and 2 together mean that I think the Church does not teach dogmatically that every act of intentional verbal misleading is a lie.)
On the question, "Is an act of intentional verbal misleading with the end of causing an individual to sin always a sin?," I think the Church teaches that yes, such an act is always a sin.
On the question, "Do LiveAction's methods include intentional verbal misleading with the end of causing an individual to sin?," I think the answer is yes.

2011-01-24T13:10:00.002-05:00

A just question

In preaching on abortion during his homily yesterday, my pastor said, "Some people say, 'It's just a bunch of cells.' Well... I'm a bunch of cells, too!"

We're each a bunch of cells. The question is, which of us are just a bunch of cells?

The answer must be that all, some, or none of us is just a bunch of cells.

If we're all just a bunch of cells, then there is no right or wrong, there are just biochemical reactions. I don't know that I've ever heard of anyone who actually lived as though they believed this.

If some of us are just a bunch of cells, then the problem is figuring out which ones. I state without proof that there is no inviolable rule in nature for figuring that out, with the corollary that a society that believes some of us are just a bunch of cells can become a society that believes you are just a bunch of cells.

If none of us is just a bunch of cells, then what the hell have we been doing?

2011-01-23T09:06:00.003-05:00

Prodigals

This week's hypothesis is that great parables are bad stories.

More accurately, great parables tend to be incomplete stories, because one thing that makes a parable great is that the listener has to put himself into the parable. This is one way a parable differs from a myth; a myth tells you what your role is, a parable tells you what roles are available and challenges you to choose the correct one.

Think, for example, of the Parable of the Prodigal Son. It's one of the longest, most complex, and richest of the written parables of Jesus. Yet with both sons, the father has the last word. We aren't told how the younger son responds to having a ring on his finger again, nor how the older son responds to being told all his father has is his.

I was going to end the last sentence with "how the older son responds to learning all his father has is his," but, really, we don't even know that he learned it, we only know that he should have learned it. Since he should have learned it through the years of living with his father, we don't know that he learned it even when he was told directly. (An echo, perhaps, of Dives and Lazarus; can the older brother believe in his father's love when someone returns from the dead to show him?)

In short, we know how the brothers should respond, but we aren't told how they did. The parable leaves it up to us to say, "Today I am the younger brother," or, "I am acting like the older brother," and then respond to our Father as we should.

This idea of incompleteness may also help explain why so many who listened to Jesus preach did not hear what the parables were saying. We come to these parables with thousands of years of experience in thinking about how they should be completed; coming to it fresh, it's easy to be confused by all the ways they could be completed.

2011-01-16T08:18:00.003-05:00

Last week's hypothesis

An earnest young priest meets an older rabbi, and they start talking about religion. At one point, the priest says, "What can we do to get good, religious Jews to believe that the Messiah has already come?"

The rabbi answers, "You could live as though you believed it."

There are, no doubt, lots of reasons why the adjectives "Christian" and "Christlike" are so rarely confused -- or, more seasonally, why the "spirit of Christmas" seems to evaporate so completely by mid-January every year. I heard something in last Sunday's first reading that suggested a new-to-me reason Christians as a class are such lousy witnesses for Christ: the Incarnation isn't seen as all that important.

Why, after all, did the LORD set His Servant as a covenant of the people?

To open the eyes of the blind, to bring out prisoners from confinement, and from the dungeon, those who live in darkness.

To the extent I see myself as blind, a prisoner living in darkness, this news will occupy my mind.

But suppose I don't see myself that way. Suppose I see myself as pretty well set for afterlife. Maybe I'm a universalist, or a Pelagian; maybe I believe that once saved, always saved; maybe I'm just impressed by my own faith.

Having already received my own personal good news, who's the Gospel really for? The blind, the prisoners, those in dungeons. In modern terms: sinners and criminals.

And how important is the salvation of sinners and criminals? How important is the salvation of that SOB down the street who left his wife and kids, or the human dung beetles at work? How important is the salvation of the burglars, drug dealers, rapists, and murderers we've locked up for good reason? Sure, here or there a thunderbolt of grace will save someone, and those of us on the right side will read the story with benevolent pleasure.

But really, for the most part, haven't those people already chosen between life and death? God can save as many of them as He likes, but... not to put too fine a point on it, so what?

We decent folk were going to be saved all along, weren't we? For us, the Incarnation was a formality, Jesus' death on a cross like the breaking of a champagne bottle at the christening of a ship.

For the louses, the moral and societal bums, the Incarnation may be something more, but, not being a louse or a bum, why should I worry about that?