Shameless Popery

Steve Martin v. John Dominic Crossan

2012-01-26T09:46:00.003-05:00

A while back, I wrote a post on the historical accuracy of Luke 2:2. In a nutshell, some Biblical critics claim that the global census that St. Luke describes (in Lk. 2:1-2) as occurring during the reign of Herod the Great didn't happen. I think that Mark Shea does a great job of answering this, using a stand-up sketch by comedian Steve Martin to show the absurdity of the skeptic's argument:

Comedian Steve Martin used to do a routine in which he smiled broadly with that distinct smile of his and said, “Remember a couple of years back when the earth (wry pause)... exploded? Remember how they built that giant space ark and loaded all of humanity into it, but the government decided not to tell the stupid people what was going on so that they wouldn’t panic…..” The light of understanding would then break across his face as he surveyed the faces of the audience and he would quickly backtrack saying, “Oooooooh! Uh….. Never mind!”

I can’t help but think of that as I read [John Dominic] Crossan’s take on Luke. We are being asked to believe that the gospels are works of cunning fiction by people laboring under some huge need to bring others under the spell of their delusion of a Risen Christ. Part of their messianic delusion requires them to link the Nazarene carpenter with King David by portraying him as born in “the city of David”, Bethlehem. And so they do what to get Jesus there in time for his birth and debut as the Son of David?

Well, a lot of options are open to the creative gospel writer whose only goal is to write a tall tale. You could just say that Mary’s grandmother took sick and she went to visit her. You could claim that Joseph bought a plot of land and didn’t want to leave Mary behind while he went to inspect it. You could cook up an angelic visitation commanding the Holy Family to go to Bethlehem and wait for their son to be born. Any of these stories have the tremendous advantage of being extremely hard to refute decades after the event. And since you’ve already stuffed your gospel full of miracles, what’s one more angel?

But no, according to Crossan, Luke tells the equivalent of Martin’s space ark story: “Remember, a few decades back when the entire world was enrolled for taxation?” He invites, not just somebody to refute it, but everybody in his entire audience. That’s an awfully strange thing to do if the enrollment never happened and an awfully odd way to establish the bona fides of your main character.

Now, realize that even Crossan admits that the Gospel of Luke was written in the first century. So the people reading it would know whether or not this enormous event had or hadn't occurred. And this is true for countless other New Testament historical claims: these claims were easily falsifiable in the first century: that hundreds of people claimed to have seen the risen Christ (1 Cor. 15:6), that St. Peter preached about the Empty Tomb in Jerusalem, on Pentecost, only a few months after Easter (Acts 2:14-40), etc. That they were taken as historical fact is evidence that they were, in fact, historical fact. And this, in turn, makes a solid case in favor of Christianity.

Ten Tips for Successful Catholic Blogging

2012-01-25T16:10:00.001-05:00

A couple of readers have asked for tips in starting out in Catholic blogging. I don't have any great secrets, and can think of plenty of people more qualified than myself to answer, but here are the things that I wish I had known (or thought of) back when I was first beginning. I'll mention up front that I haven't always done everything on this list -- some of these are areas where I'm aware I need to improve.

5 Tips for Starting Your Blog

Lionello Spada, St. Jerome (1610)

Why do you feel called to blog? Start by asking yourself this question. What do you feel like God is calling you to do? What are you hoping to get out of it? How serious are you in your commitment? Pray on this.
What do you love or hate about other blogs? This is the easiest way of figuring out which things to do, or to avoid. Chances are, the things you really like or really hate are going to be things other people really love or hate. Regardless, you don't want to be the kind of blogger that you can't stand. I believe it was C.S. Lewis who pointed out that true humility is a trait we admire in others, while neglecting it in ourselves. Whoever it was, it's a sound point. We can often see the flaws and the strengths of our neighbor more clearer than we can see them in ourselves.
Figure out your “genre.” Sin is monotonous: the pleasures of the earth are finite, and end in nihilism, as nearly any addict can tell you. Sanctity, in contrast, is vibrant and unbounded, since it's a love affair with the Infinite. Are you going to write about canon law? Parenting? Art and beauty? Apologetics? Catholicism and politics? Liturgy? Pro-life and social justice issues? Before you write a masterpiece, you need to figure out your “genre.” Some blogs are able to cover multiple genres well, but many aren't. For example, think long and hard about getting into the weeds on political issues on which Catholics can take either side. This can be either a good way of stimulating discussion on the dual roles of faith and politics, or a quick way of alienating even other Catholics.
Set a tone. I think that the most successful blogs are somewhat predictable: regular readers have a feel for what they're getting. This includes the topics or genres covered, but it also includes how you cover them. For example, how much of the blog will be able your own experiences? Figure out if you're more like Augustine or Aquinas. But it's much more than that. Look at the contrasts in how John the Baptist and John the Apostle present the Gospel. Same content, different tone.

Jacob Wrestles with the Angel (1866)

Choose a name wisely. Names are incredibly important in Scripture (e.g., Gen. 17:4-5, Gen. 32:28, Mt. 16:17-19, Rev. 2:17), and in the life of the Church (particularly at Baptism and Confirmation), and should tell us something about you. The same holds true for your blog's title and for the titles of your posts, particularly since these are the things people see before they enter your site. This is usually all the advertisement you get.

Personally, I try to keep things relatively lighthearted, while addressing serious topics. The original names I was mulling over for this blog (like Catholic Defense or Catholicism Contra Mundum, etc.) sounded too boring, stern, or pretentious. Finally, I asked my Calvinist friend Don for suggestions, who without skipping a beat, answered, “Shameless Popery.” That name captured the feel of the blog better than anything I could have come up with.

My point is this: a blog named To View the World Through Blood-Colored Lenses evokes a very different feel than a blog named Little Catholic Bubble. It's likely to appeal to a different crowd, even before anyone opens the page.

5 Tips for Keeping Up Your Blog

The internet is filled with abandoned blogs, tiny ghost towns lining the sides of the Information Superhighway. What do you need to do to avoid consigning your own blog to an early death?

Diego Velázquez, Christ in the House of Martha and Mary (1618)

Fill up. You can only give what you've received. When I find myself getting snarky, or running out of ideas for things to talk about, or finding myself unable to turn my idea into a a coherent post, that's usually a good sign that my tanks are running low. I need to step away from the computer, spend some time at Mass, in prayer, or doing some spiritual reading, and fill up those tanks. This both revitalizes the spirit, and frequently inspires good posts. Martin Luther is reported to have said, “Work, work, from early until late. In fact, I have so much to do that I shall spend the first three hours in prayer.” We could benefit from a similar attitude: everything, including blogging, goes better with prayer.

Cutting out prayer time with God because you want to blog about Catholicism is like saving time on a long roadtrip by not stopping for gas: it may seem smart in the moment, but it won't end well. Worse, it may be a sign that you're trying to be the Messiah -- trying to save people through your own intellect or rhetorical skills. You can't. Only God saves. The best we can hope for is that, like St. Paul in today's First Reading, we can be a “chosen instrument” in God's plan of salvation (Acts 9:15).
Consistency. This is the single most important distinctive in blogging, in my opinion. I try to post daily (or nearly so) every Monday through Friday. Missing a day or two is fine, but if you don't post anything for a few weeks, people will move on. The reader base that you spent months building up can be lost very quickly through inactivity. So if you do need to take an extended break (eventually, almost everyone does), and want readers to be there when you get back, try to let them know ahead of time.

This also means that you can't afford to be a perfectionist. You can't spent two weeks on each post to make sure they're perfect. Give what you can, and leave the rest to God. You'll surprised by the results. I have posts that I spent hours painstakingly researching that nobody seemed to care for, and posts that I rushed through in a few minutes that took off like hotcakes. For example, one of my more popular recent posts was this one: it's only four paragraphs long, and consists primarily of my reaction to a First Things article and a Catholic Vote post. I almost didn't publish it, because it didn't seem to have a point. I suspect this is all another way of God reminding me that He's the one in control, not me.

Valentin de Boulogne, Saint Paul Writing His Epistles (1620)

Content. This is hopefully obvious, but your blog isn't all sizzle. It needs some steak for people to come back for more. Keeping your audience in mind, along with your purpose in writing the blog (see above), write the posts that you would want to read. Write the posts that you think other people need to hear.

Don't wait until you're the perfect Catholic Saint / encyclopedia: this blog has helped me grow as a Catholic. Things that seem obvious to you may seem insightful to those just discovering Catholicism. Those who are spiritual infants, just learning to walk in the faith, may find it easier to learn from a toddler than from a sprinter. Keep the Catechism and Catholic Encyclopedia close if you're not sure about what you're saying (or just don't say it), be prepared to apologize and fix errors, and cast out into the deep. Having said that, don't contradict or undermine the Church, and don't dwell on disciplines you wish She would change. You should be building up the Body of Christ, not grumbling (1 Cor. 10:10).

You should aim for a mix of your own content, and your reactions to other people's posts. You also don't have to dominate the discussion. Sometimes, it's enough to just get the conversation going.

Giovanni Lorenzo Bernini, The Ecstasy of St. Theresa (1652)

Beauty. This is something I realized far too late in the game. If you read my older posts, they're often just walls of text. Now, I try to enhance the post with Catholic art and even the occasional video. You can find plenty of art for free, from places like Wikimedia Commons. If nothing else, just use a site like Biblical Art, and find relevant art by Scripture passage. And remember, we're Catholics; we believe that all beauty points to God. On a related note, see how your blog looks in different Internet browsers, different sized windows, and on smart phones.
Marketing. Even if you're doing everything perfectly, you may be ignored. It helps to talk to more successful bloggers, particularly those who are good about promoting upstarts. Mark Shea, for example, was the first to plug my blog, and Pat Madrid linked to me early on (on his old blog).

Two people you should know about, who do an amazing job of directing traffic towards Catholic blogs: Tito Edwards, who runs The Pulp.it, and has a recurring Register feature highlighting Catholic blogging, and Kevin Knight of New Advent. You'll know when they link to you because hundreds (or even thousands) of people suddenly show up. I was blessed in that they found me, but I don't think it's wrong to send your particularly good posts to them in the hope of getting a plug. After all, you're writing this stuff for people to read, right?

There's much more that can be said: how active to be in the comments, how to handle rude or blasphemous commenters, whether sleep is really as important as people claim, etc. Feel free to continue the discussion in the comments. Honestly, though, Jen Fulwiler understands this all better than I do, and wrote a two-part series on blogging here and here. So maybe you should check her out, instead?

Finally, heed the words of St. Peter: “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins” (1 Peter 4:8).

P.S. Please, feel free to post links to your own Catholic blogs in the comments, particularly if you're just starting out! If you'd prefer, link to a specific post or two you'd especially like to share.

The Annual March for Life Media Blackout

2012-01-24T11:57:00.003-05:00

This picture is one of numerous great shots highlighted by Matt Cassens on his blog St. Blogustine (which I note in passing is an excellent name for a blog). Contrast it with Newsweek's spin from 2010, in an article entitled, Who’s Missing at the 'Roe v. Wade' Anniversary Demonstrations? Young Women. The article rhetorically asked, “where are the young, vibrant women supporting their pro-life or pro-choice positions? Likely, they’re at home.”

In lieu of doing their own reporting, Christian Science Monitor shamelessly regurgitated Newsweek's outright false claims: “According to Newsweek, demonstrators on both sides were mostly from the baby boomer generation.” I mean, just look at all those Baby Boomers. Wait, I don't actually see any in that shot. In fact, I'm not sure I've seen a single March for Life picture from the last ten years containing more than a few dozen people in which most of those in the shot were Baby Boomers. And in the four years that I marched, I can attest that the ratio of young people to Baby Boomers is staggering. The youth own this movement.

So the media coverage has long been riddled with lies and distortions. If you ever want to be in the press, an easy way to do it is to be a pro-choice counter-protester at the March for Life. Each year, a few dozen show up, and each year, seemingly every one of them gets a close-framed shot that make them seem to be part of a huge pro-choice contingent. In the Monitor article I mentioned above, the accompanying photo showed four pro-choicers and a single pro-lifer. That huge protest of hundreds of thousands of people? Ignored in favor of a few dozen (literally!) counter-protesters.

But as bad as media distortions are (and they really do seem intentional here: the photographers had to have noticed an enormous procession of people passing them by), the worst is the outright media blackout. For five years straight, the New York Times has refused to run anything on the March for Life. This year, they were forced to indirectly acknowledge the March's existence, because Senator Rand Paul was detained on his way to the March, after he refused a TSA patdown. The last thing Senator Paul had tweeted before his detainment:

@SenRandPaulSenator Rand Paul
Today I'll speak to the March for Life in DC. A nation cannot long endure w/o respect for the right to Life. Our Liberty depends on it. #ky

So you can't really cover Senator Paul's detainment without acknowledging the March for Life, since it's part of the story. Unless you're CBS:

Paul said he was "detained" at a small cubicle and couldn't make his flight to Washington for a Senate vote scheduled later in the day.

And where was Paul headed before that vote, I wonder? CBS doesn't give us any clues. Because this isn't news (be sure to watch the time lapse video -- it's the best way of grasping just how enormous the March actually is):

P.S. My friend Matt Balan offers an extreme example from this year's coverage.

March for Life 2012, Byzantine-Style

2012-01-23T11:11:00.001-05:00

Today is the March for Life. While much of the press (local and national) ignores the March, our local NBC affiliate did a good job covering the basics:

Monday marks the 39th anniversary of Roe v. Wade, the Supreme Court decision that removed many state and federal restrictions on abortion.

Thousands will gather in the District for the annual March for Life.

It’s been deemed the largest and longest-running peaceful human rights demonstration for the unborn, with more than 100,000 expected to attend. [...]

The National Prayer Vigil for Life is scheduled to begin at at 6:30 p.m. Sunday in the Great Upper Church of the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. The vigil, which will last through the night and into Monday morning, typically draws about 20,000 people and is organized by the Basilica, the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, and Catholic University.

The rally begins at 12 p.m. on Monday on the National Mall near the Smithsonian Castle. The actual march is scheduled to begin at 1:30 p.m. The march will follow its traditional route up Constitution Avenue to the Supreme Court building.

While I'm not able to attend the March itself this year, due to some work-related commitments, I was able to attend part of last night's National Prayer Vigil for Life. Specifically, I made it to the Byzantine Catholic Compline (Night Prayer), which was amazing. Here's the description from the schedule:

Night Prayer (Byzantine Rite) - Crypt Church, Led by Most Reverend William C. Skurla, Bishop of Passaic and Metropolitan Archbishop-elect of Pittsburgh; Homilist: Most Reverend Stefan Soroka, Metropolitan Archbishop for the Ukrainian Catholic Archeparchy of Philadelphia; Cantors and Slava Men's Chorus from Epiphany of our Lord Church, Annandale, VA

The prayers were unspeakably beautiful, in large part due to the Slava Men's Chorus, who lead sung chant of a number of Psalms. Archbishop Soroka gave a touching personal homily about his twin brother, who nearly died in infancy. Their father, an immigrant who spoke nearly no English, fought for the young boy's life, even in the face of doctors who encouraged the family to give up and just be thankful for the son that they had. Today, that sickly infant is a police officer, and a father himself. Abp. Soroka then described how an assault on the unborn is an assault on God Himself, and we prayed for His Mercy.

I shot a few videos towards the end, just to give some sense of how beautiful this all was, including the Crypt Church itself. One:

Two:

And three, showing both Archbishop Skurla and Archbishop Soroka recessing from the church:

There are many more events going on tonight, including an Advocates for Life reception featuring Abby Johnson, a former Planned Parenthood director turned pro-life activist. I'm looking forward to that!

P.S. Speaking of the March for Life, it brought Brock Smith, who comments here from time to time, into D.C. We met in person for the first time. Here's a picture of us with my friend Carlos, who comments under the name Grimaud:

I'm the one in black.

Does the Pope Believe in the Resurrection?

2012-01-20T19:34:00.001-05:00

Hans Multscher, The Resurrection of Christ (1437)

That's the title of an article written by Matthew Vogan, who appears to be an elder of the Free Presbyterian Church of Scotland. Incredibly, he claims that Benedict denies the historical Resurrection of Christ, and “flatly denies the fundamental biblical truth of the resurrection of the body.” That's obviously absurd, and shouldn't even pass the laugh-test. How stupid would Catholics have to be to not notice if the pope rejected the Resurrection?

Really, Vogan's article is essentially asking, is the pope Catholic? But what's remarkable is that (a) the article appeared in Free Presbyterian Magazine, which puts on scholarly airs, and (b) nobody seems to have bothered fact-checking (or answering) the accusations Vogan raises. So just to clear the air and put the matter to rest, let's address both what the pope believes, and how Vogan misrepresents the evidence.

What Benedict Believes About the Resurrection

Benedict's views on the bodily Resurrection are simple and straightforward: he's a believer, and has repeatedly declared that this belief is at the core of Christian faith. For example, in May of 2003, then-Cardinal Ratzinger commemorated the 100th anniversary of the establishment of the Pontifical Biblical Commission with a speech explaining the appropriate role of Catholic Biblical scholarship. In that speech, he denounced those who deny the bodily Resurrection for destroying the very content of the Christian religion:

The opinion that faith as such knows absolutely nothing of historical facts and must leave all of this to historians is Gnosticism: this opinion disembodies the faith and reduces it to pure idea. The reality of events is necessary precisely because the faith is founded on the Bible. A God who cannot intervene in history and reveal Himself in it is not the God of the Bible. In this way the reality of the birth of Jesus by the Virgin Mary, the effective institution of the Eucharist by Jesus at the Last Supper, his bodily resurrection from the dead - this is the meaning of the empty tomb - are elements of the faith as such, which it can and must defend against an only presumably superior historical knowledge.

Gerard Seghers, Resurrection of Christ (c. 1620)

And when he was visiting New York City in 2008, he said this during an Ecumenical Prayer Service:

Throughout the New Testament, we find that the Apostles were repeatedly called to give an account for their faith to both Gentiles (cf. Acts 17:16-34) and Jews (cf. Acts 4:5-22; 5:27-42). The core of their argument was always the historical fact of Jesus’ bodily resurrection from the tomb (Acts 2:24, 32; 3:15; 4:10; 5:30; 10:40; 13:30). The ultimate effectiveness of their preaching did not depend on “lofty words” or “human wisdom” (1 Cor 2:13), but rather on the work of the Spirit (Eph 3:5) who confirmed the authoritative witness of the Apostles (cf. 1 Cor 15:1-11).

So the Apostles, led by the Holy Spirit, used the argument from Jesus Christ's bodily Resurrection to establish the Church, and this belief in the bodily Resurrection is at the very heart of the faith, and not to be viewed as somehow contrary to history. There are plenty of other things we could point to. Even ignoring his innumerable Easter addresses celebrating the Resurrection, Pope Benedict recently wrote a book called Jesus of Nazareth, Vol. II: From the Entrance Into Jerusalem to the Resurrection, in which he said (on pp. 241-42) that without the Resurrection, “Jesus would be a failed religious leader,” and “we would be alone.”

And it's not just Jesus' Resurrection he proclaims, but the resurrection of the body at the end of time. From page 28 of The Sacrament of Charity:

The eucharistic celebration, in which we proclaim that Christ has died and risen, and will come again, is a pledge of the future glory in which our bodies too will be glorified. Celebrating the memorial of our salvation strengthens our hope in the resurrection of the body and in the possibility of meeting once again, face to face, those who have gone before us marked with the sign of faith.

All of this is really unambiguously clear. So how did Vogan get his facts so distorted?

Where Vogan Goes Wrong

The starting problem with Vogan's article is that it's not written to understand what Pope Benedict believes. It's written to scare Protestants. In his introduction and conclusion, Vogan makes it clear that he’s worried that a conservative Catholic (particularly one who happens to be both a brilliant theologian and the pope) is going to be appealing to intelligent Reformed Christians, who will take it as a call to “return home to Rome.” So Vogan seeks to show that Benedict isn’t a conservative, in order to scare Calvinists away from Catholicism. In other words, you should view this as credibly as you do a negative campaign ad, because it’s similarly motivated: destroy the opponent’s reputation.

To “prove” that Pope Benedict is a heretic, Vogan grossly mischaracterizes a huge corpus of Benedict’s writings. Let me give you a few examples.

Vogan's Claim # 1: Benedict Thinks We Should Avoid Speaking of the Soul's Immortality

Pieter Pourbus, Last Judgment (1551)

Vogan claims Benedict thinks it's the proper Christian thing to do to avoid speaking of the soul's immortality:

Ratzinger’s book, Eschatology: Death and Eternal Life, covers, amongst other things, the nature of the resurrection. He notes that the accepted view among modern Roman Catholic and liberal Protestant theologians is that body and soul expire at the point of death and that 'the proper Christian thing, therefore, is to speak, not of the soul’s immortality, but of the resurrection of the complete human being and of that alone' (p 105). He notes that the word soul has disappeared from Roman Catholic liturgy (also from Roman Catholic Bible translations) as a consequence.

The Truth is that Benedict accuses his opponents of this, and shows why that view is dangerous.

I was stunned by this argument. Vogan presents this as if it's something Benedict is arguing for, that the proper Christian thing is to deny (or ignore) the soul's immortality. That's completely false. The quotation from page 105 is Benedict's description of his opponents' worldview and “the State of the Question.” He then proceeds to show why this popular view is false. In other words, this would be like citing Psalm 14:1 and Psalm 53:1 to “prove” that Scripture teaches that there is no God, or using Mt. 16:14 to “prove” that the Apostles viewed Jesus as simply another prophet.

At the end of the chapter, he writes:

Over against the theories sketched out in the opening section of this chapter, we were able to show that the idea of a resurrection taking place in the moment of death is not well-founded, either in logic or in the Bible. We saw that the Church's own form of the doctrine of immortality was developed in a consistent manner from the resources of the biblical heritage, and is indispensible on grounds of both tradition and philosophy. But that leaves the other side of the question still unanswered: what, then, about the resurrection of the dead? [...] Such questions make us realize that, despite their contrary starting points, the modern theories we have met seek to avoid not so much the immortality of the soul as the resurrection, now as always the real scandal to the intellectuals. To this extent, modern theology is closer to the Greeks than it cares to recognize.

In other words, he explicitly rejects the beliefs Vogan accuses him of holding, and shows why those views are wrong.

Vogan's Claim # 2: Benedict Defines the Resurrection as Mere Fellowship

Vogan claims Benedict defines the Resurrection as simply fellowship:

The Last Judgment and the Mass of Saint Gregory
The book [Introduction to Christianity] seeks to explain the Apostles’ Creed in the light of contemporary Roman Catholic dogma. When Ratzinger approaches the clause, 'I believe in the resurrection of the body', he recognises that this doctrine is a 'stumbling block to the modern mind' (p 232).9 His definition is both strange and ambiguous. 'Resurrection', he writes, 'expresses the idea that the immortality of man can exist and be thought of only in the fellowship of men' (p 172).

The Truth is that Benedict teaches that the Resurrection is more than fellowship.

Benedict clearly describes fellowship as just one aspect of the Resurrection. He says things like: “part of the Christian idea of immortality is fellowship with other human beings. Man is not engaged in a solitary dialogue with God. He does not enter an eternity with God which belongs to him alone.” That's from p. 159 of Eschatology, a book Vogan cites. So once again, Vogan claims Benedict believes one thing, while the actual evidence proves the exact opposite.

So what about the partial quote Vogan does cite, from page 172 of Introduction to Christianity? Well, it isn't a definition of the Resurrection at all. Instead, Benedict is saying that since the Resurrection is true, we know that salvation isn't merely individualistic. So, I can't say Jesus is my personal Lord and Savior, to the exclusion of the Communion of the Saints. He writes:

Resurrection expresses the idea that the immortality of man can exist and be thought of only in the fellowship of men, in man as the creature of fellowship, as we shall see in more detail later on. Finally, even the concept of redemption, as we have already said, only has a meaning on this plane; it does not refer to the detached monadic destiny of the individual.

That's a savvy point. If we understand the Resurrection, we see why concepts like the Communion of the Saints and the Church are so important. But Benedict isn't defining what the Resurrection is, any more than if I say that Alaska is cold, I'm defining “Alaska” and “cold” to mean the same thing. By stripping the first sentence of any context, and declaring it a definition, Vogan distorts Benedict's point be that the Resurrection means nothing more than fellowship.

Vogan's Claim # 3: Benedict Explicitly Denies the Resurrection of the Body

Vogan claims that Benedict explicitly denies the resurrection of the body on pp. 240-41 of Introduction to Christianity

Francisco Pacheco, The Last Judgment
In Introduction to Christianity, Ratzinger explicitly denies the resurrection of the body. 'It now becomes clear that the real heart of faith in the resurrection does not consist at all in the idea of the restoration of bodies, to which we have reduced it in our thinking; such is the case even though this is the pictorial image used throughout the Bible'. He says that the word body, or flesh, in the phrase, the resurrection of the body, 'in effect means "the world of man" . . . [it is] not meant in the sense of a corporality isolated from the soul' (pp 240-41).

The truth is that Benedict explicitly affirms the resurrection of the body on pp. 240-41 of Introduction to Christianity.

Once more, we see that the evidence supports the polar opposite of what Vogan claims. The very passage that Vogan cites (pp. 240-41; pp. 350-51 in the Google Books version) says the opposite of what Vogan claims it says. Instead of Benedict explicitly denying the resurrection of the body, Benedict explicitly affirms the resurrection of the body, saying:

Immortality as conceived by the Bible proceeds, not from the intrinsic power of what is in itself indestructible, but from being drawn into the dialogue with the Creator; that is why it must be called awakening. Because the Creator intends, not just the soul, but the man physically existing in the midst of history and gives him immortality, it must be called “awakening of the dead” = “of men”. It should be noted here that even in the formula of the Creed, which speaks of the “resurrection of the body”, the word “body” means in effect “the world of man” (in the sense of bibilical expressions like “all flesh will see God's salvation”, and so on); even here the word is not meant in the sense of a corporality isolated from the soul.

Leaving aside that Benedict is talking about the use of the word “body” in the Creed (rather than the Bible, as Vogan claims), we should see an obvious pattern emerge. Once again, Benedict has explicitly affirmed the resurrection of the body, saying that the “the Creator intends, not just the soul, but the man physically existing in the midst of history and gives him immortality.” How is that open to any meaning other than bodily resurrection?

All he's done in the passage I quoted is explain that man isn't simply a soul trapped in a physical cage, as the ancient Greeks imagined, but a union of body and soul. In the resurrection of the body, then, it's the full man, body and soul (not just our bodies, isolated from our souls) that is glorified. That is exactly the orthodox Christian definition of the resurrection of the body, and what the Church that formed the Creed taught (and continues to teach, under the Roman Pontiff). If Vogan believes something else, he's the one embracing something heretical, not the pope.

Conclusion

Vogan makes more arguments, but I think this is sufficient. At some point, we just have to conclude that Vogan either lacks the capacity to understand Pope Benedict's scholarly writings or lacks the virtue and veracity to accurately represent what the pope believes.

Frankly, a good case can be made for either. On the one hand, the pope's scholarly work is admittedly quite dense at points, and I've struggled slowly through some of his writings myself. A priest I know jokingly refers to Introduction to Christianity as “Introduction to Christianity for German Theologians,” since Benedict's encyclopedic knowledge can be hard to keep up with. On the other hand, Vogan's piece is dripping with anti-Catholic disdain. I omitted the sheer gratitious attacks, like when he lambasts Benedict for the “Jesuitical distinction that he makes between his official and private views,” or when he claims that “is typical of Roman Catholicism to say both 'yes' and 'no' at the same time to biblical doctrine,” before grossly misrepresenting the Catholic teachings on Scripture, the Church, the Saints and Mary (none of which are remotely connected with what he is allegedly writing about).

So I don't know if Vogan's problem is blind bigotry, dishonesty, or just an inability to understand Ratzinger's work. For his own sake, I sincerely hope it's the latter. But regardless, he seems singularly unqualified to be writing articles on subjects he knows so little about, and it's to the shame of Free Presbyterian Magazine that they ran such a provocative and unedifying piece without checking to see if his facts were even remotely correct.

Yes, the pope is Catholic. Yes, he believes in the Resurrection of Christ, and yes, he looks forward, with all Catholics, to the resurrection of the body. Amen.

The Twilight of Protestant America?

2012-01-19T23:06:00.003-05:00

Back in 2008, Jody Bottum, then the editor of First Things, wrote a fine essay called The Death of Protestant America: A Political Theory of the Protestant Mainline, exploring the collapse of “mainline” Protestantism. There's been a lot of talk of this: that Protestantism in America is rapidly losing its grip on the culture.

It's easy to exaggerate this idea, but I think there's really something to it. Consider the Supreme Court. Of the nine justices, there are exactly zero Protestants. This would have been completely unthinkable even a generation ago. From 1789 until about 1969, nearly every justice was Protestant, and even as recently as 1994, a majority of justices were Protestant. Today, in the words of Christianity Today, we've got a Court composed of 6 Catholics, 3 Jews: Kagan, Breyer, and Ginsburg are Jewish, while Roberts, Alito, Kennedy, Scalia, Thomas, and Sotomayor are Catholic.

Catholic Vote noticed that we're seeing a similar phenomenon now in the GOP primaries, where the three candidates credited with a shot at winning (Romney, Gingrich, and Santoroum) are either Catholic or Mormon (with another Mormon, Huntsman, having recently dropped out of the race). What's even stranger is that this thing that was very recently unthinkable wasn't newsworthy.

In a talk he gave this summer, Cardinal George said that he was much less worried about Protestant America, and much more worried about post-Protestant America. I think we're going to have to start thinking much more seriously about just what this entails, because America's post-Protestantism is descending upon us rapidly.

How Ratzinger Reacted to Becoming Pope Benedict

2012-01-18T15:42:00.001-05:00

On Monday, I looked at how various men have reacted to being elected pope. I included popes from Clement XIV (elected in 1769) to John Paul II (1978), but didn't include Pope Benedict's reaction.

Since then, I heard a great talk on Benedict's election given by Msgr. Bartholomew Smith, the pastor at St. Bernadette Catholic Church in D.C., and a former priest-secretary to Cardinal William Baum. Cardinal Baum attended the conclave, but was frail enough to need Msgr. Smith's assistance, meaning that Msgr. Smith got a unique view into the way the conclave process works. Without disclosing anything confidential, he was able to walk us through the way a conclave works, and he was clearly struck by the organic beauty of the thing. He mentioned something I hadn't known before: that the room in which the newly-elected pope vests is called the Room of Tears, This captures well what I pointed out in Monday's post: that the calling to the papacy is a serious responsibility indeed, and one which no man is truly prepared for.

The same day that I learned this, my friend Peter e-mailed the section in Light of the World in which Pope Benedict discusses his own reaction to being elected. Since it dovetails so perfectly with both Monday's post, and Msgr. Smith's talk, I thought I'd share it here. This is from a series of interviews with German journalist Peter Seewald (whose questions are in blue italics):

What the crowd saw

Holy Father, on April 16, 2005, your seventy-eighth birthday, you told your co-workers how much you were looking forward to your retirement. Three days later you were the leader of the universal Church with 1.2 billion members. Not exactly a project that one saves for his old age.

Actually I had expected finally to have some peace and quiet. The fact that I suddenly found myself facing this tremendous task was, as everybody knows, a shock for me. The responsibility is in fact enormous.

There was the moment when, as you later said, you felt just as if “a guillotine” were speeding down on you.

Yes, the thought of the guillotine occurred to me: Now it falls down and hits you. I had been so sure that this office was not my calling, but that God would now grant me some peace and quiet after strenuous years. But then I could only say, explain to myself: God’s will is apparently otherwise, and something new and completely different is beginning for me. He will be with me.

What Pope Benedict saw

In the so-called “room of tears” during a conclave three sets of robes lie waiting for the future Pope. One is long, one short, one middle-sized. What was going through your head in that room, in which so many new Pontiffs are said to have broken down? Does one wonder again here, at the very latest: Why me? What does God want of me?

Actually at that moment one is first of all occupied by very practical, external things. One has to see how to deal with the robes and such. Moreover I knew that very soon I would have to say a few words out on the balcony, and I began to think about what I could say. Besides, even at the moment when it hit me, all I was able to say to the Lord was simply: “What are you doing with me? Now the responsibility is yours. You must lead me! I can’t do it. If you wanted me, then you must also help me!” In this sense, I stood, let us say, in an urgent dialogue relationship with the Lord: if he does the one thing he must also do the other.

This is what humility looks like. And it's the mark of a great pope.

Does the Bible Condemn Repetitive Prayer?

2012-01-17T12:39:00.003-05:00

One of the common arguments raised against Catholic devotions like the Rosary is that Catholics are praying the same few form prayers over and over again, and Scripture condemns repetitive prayer. After all, in Matthew 6:7, Christ says, “And in praying do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do; for they think that they will be heard for their many words,” or to use the KJV, “But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen do: for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking.”

The answer to this is simple: Christ condemns vain repetitions, or heaping up empty phrases. Repetitive prayer, including the use of form prayer, is embraced by Scripture, and practiced by the early Church. Let's look at repetitive prayer first, and then form prayer.

The Bible Calls Us to Repetitive Prayer

One of the most vivid examples of this comes from Jesus' agony in the Garden of Gethsemane (Matthew 26:39-44):

Carl Bloch, Gethsemane (1805)
And going a little farther he fell on his face and prayed, "My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt."

And he came to the disciples and found them sleeping; and he said to Peter, "So, could you not watch with me one hour? Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."

Again, for the second time, he went away and prayed, "My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, thy will be done." And again he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were heavy. So, leaving them again, he went away and prayed for the third time, saying the same words.

So Jesus prayed the same prayer three times in a row. That's certainly repetitive prayer. But it's hardly vain repetition, or empty phrases. Jesus was begging the Father intensely. Likewise, we're invited to beg God for things, and even to nag Him. This invitation comes from Jesus' parable of the persistent widow (Luke 18:1-8):

And he told them a parable, to the effect that they ought always to pray and not lose heart. He said, "In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor regarded man; and there was a widow in that city who kept coming to him and saying, `Vindicate me against my adversary.'

For a while he refused; but afterward he said to himself, `Though I neither fear God nor regard man, yet because this widow bothers me, I will vindicate her, or she will wear me out by her continual coming.'"

And the Lord said, "Hear what the unrighteous judge says. And will not God vindicate his elect, who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long over them? I tell you, he will vindicate them speedily. Nevertheless, when the Son of man comes, will he find faith on earth?"

So the model for continual prayer that Jesus holds up is a woman who asks the exact same thing (`Vindicate me against my adversary') over and over again, so much that it's obnoxious.

The Bible Calls Us to Form Prayer

Psalm 1, from Florian's Psalter (c. 1400)

The idea that the Bible condemns form (or pre-written) prayers is silly. After all, the Book of Psalms is nothing but a set of 150 form prayers that can be prayed on a variety of occasions, and which Christ quotes extensively during His earthly life.

Plus, Jesus leaves us a form prayer of His own. Immediately after Matthew 6:7, in which He denounces vain repetitions, Christ gives us the Our Father (a.k.a. the Lord's Prayer, Mt. 6:9-13), introducing it, “This, then, is how you should pray...” That's a form prayer, and one which we're to pray often.

Plus, the Lord's Prayer was recognized as a form prayer to be prayed repeatedly by the early Church. The Didache is perhaps the oldest Christian document outside of the Bible, from sometime around the middle to late first century. The oldest portions of the Didache are probably older than the latest portions of the New Testament. It's something of a Church handbook, explaining the beliefs and practices of Christianity to the newly initiated converts. In Chapter 8, Christians are instructed to pray the Our Father three times a day. In the next chapter, form prayers for the Eucharistic preface are given. Plus, the Didache is describing what's already going on in church, meaning that we can safely date repetitive praying of the Lord's Prayer back to the time of the Apostles.

Conclusion

Christ condemns thoughtlessness in prayer, of mindlessly repeating empty words. We shouldn't do that. But the cure isn't to throw out all form prayer, or to throw out all repetitive prayer. It's to pray these prayers with sincerity. Sometimes this is hard, particularly when we're tired or have a lot on our mind. But we should try our best to do it anyway. Go back to the example of the Garden of Gethsemane. The Apostles were clearly tired, and it's an understatement to say that Jesus had a lot on His mind. But while the Apostles shunned prayer in favor of sleep, He went ahead and prayed anyway, repeating the same impassioned prayer three times. That makes all the difference.

Update: I'll be talking about this post tomorrow morning at 8:50 on Son Rise Morning Show. You can listen to it live at that time online, or wait to hear if it gets re-aired on EWTN later in the week.

How Men React to Being Elected Pope

2012-01-16T09:37:00.026-05:00

Over the course of the last two thousand years, fewer than three hundred Catholic priests have been chosen to head the universal Church on Earth. What must it be like to be in the shoes of one of the men to be elected to the most important office on the planet?

Fortunately, we get quite an insight into this question through the writings of various popes. The papal writings were surprisingly candid, and the answers were surprisingly varied, saying as much about each man and the state of the Church as about the office of the papacy. In almost every case, the result was fascinating. Here's how six popes reacted to their election, from 1769 to 1978:

(1) Pope Pius IX: Disquietude, Anxiety, and Dread

Pope Pius IX was pope longer than anyone else in modern history, from 1846-1878. His election coincided with great instability throughout Europe and the rest of the world: the year 1848 would see revolutions impact some fifty countries. Pius was not shy that his election was a solemn, even terrifying, burden in such troubled times. From Qui Pluribus, his 1847 encyclical:

Pope Pius IX
Our illustrious Predecessor, Gregory XVI, whose famous actions are recorded in the annals of the Church in letters of gold, will surely be remembered and admired by future generations. Now though, upon his death, by the mysterious plan of divine providence, We have been raised to the supreme Pontificate. We did not purpose this nor expect it; indeed Our reaction is great disquietude and anxiety. For if the burden of the Apostolic ministry is rightly considered to be at all times exceedingly heavy and beset with dangers, it is to be dreaded most particularly in these times which are so critical for the Christian commonwealth.

2. We are well aware of Our weakness. So when We reflect on the most serious duties of the supreme apostolate especially in a period of great instability, We would simply have fallen into great sadness, did We not place all Our hope in God who is Our Saviour. For He never abandons those who hope in Him. Time and again, so as to demonstrate what His power can accomplish, He employs weak instruments to rule His Church; in this way, all men may increasingly realize that it is God Himself who governs and protects the Church with his wonderful providence. We are also greatly supported by the comforting consideration that We have you, venerable brothers, as Our helpers and companions in the work of saving souls. For since you have been called to share a portion of Our care, you strive to fulfill your ministry with attentiveness and zeal, and to fight the good fight.

Pius IX's observation that God repeatedly “employs weak instruments to rule His Church” so as to show His own Sovereignty and Power is an important lesson, one that the best popes have quickly realized.

(2) Pius VIII: Thankful and Eager

Pope Pius VIII's Coat of Arms

When Pope Pius VIII was elected, he was thankful to God, and had in mind a number of areas that needed to be addressed. He outlined these in his first encyclical, 1829's Traditi Humilitati, in which he said:

According to the custom of Our ancestors, We are about to assume Our pontificate in the church of the Lateran. This office has been granted to Us, even though We are humble and unworthy. We open Our heart with joy to you, venerable brothers, whom God has given to Us as helpers in the conduct of so great an administration. We are pleased to let you know the intimate sentiments of Our will. We also think it helpful to communicate those things from which the Christian cause may benefit. For the duty of Our office is not only to feed, rule, and direct the lambs, namely the Christian people, but also the sheep, that is the clergy.

This was more or less the tone that I would have expected the other popes to take. He seems honored to have been selected, and ready to start tackling the problems facing the Church. Ironically, Pius would die less than eighteen months later.

(3) Pius X: Absolutely Terrified

Pope St. Pius X (1903-1914), in contrast, was not shy about how deeply he did not want to become pope, and his abject terror at what lay before him. He felt unworthy to be pope, unworthy to succeed Leo XIII (1878-1903, then the second-longest pontificate in history), and incapable of stopping the world from destroying itself in war and apostasy. From his beautiful 1903 encyclical, E Supremi:

Pope St. Pius X
In addressing you for the first time from the Chair of the supreme apostolate to which We have, by the inscrutable disposition of God, been elevated, it is not necessary to remind you with what tears and warm instance We exerted Ourselves to ward off this formidable burden of the Pontificate. Unequal in merit though We be with St. Anselm, it seems to us that We may with truth make Our own the words in which he lamented when he was constrained against his will and in spite of his struggles to receive the honor of the episcopate. For to show with what dispositions of mind and will We subjected Ourselves to the most serious charge of feeding the flock of Christ, We can well adduce those same proofs of grief which he invokes in his own behalf. "My tears are witnesses," he wrote, "and the sounds and moanings issuing from the anguish of my heart, such as I never remember before to have come from me for any sorrow, before that day on which there seemed to fall upon me that great misfortune of the archbishop of Canterbury. And those who fixed their gaze on my face that day could not fail to see it . . . I, in color more like a dead than a living man, was pale for amazement and alarm. Hitherto I have resisted as far as I could, speaking the truth, my election or rather the violence done me. But now I am constrained to confess, whether I will or no, that the judgments of God oppose greater and greater resistance to my efforts, so that I see no way of escaping them. Wherefore vanquished as I am by the violence not so much of men as of God, against which there is no providing, I realize that nothing is left for me, after having prayed as much as I could and striven that this chalice should if possible pass from me without my drinking it, but to set aside my feeling and my will and resign myself entirely to the design and the will of God."

Pope St. Pius X's Coat of Arms
2. In truth reasons both numerous and most weighty were not lacking to justify this resistance of Ours. For, beside the fact that We deemed Ourselves altogether unworthy through Our littleness of the honor of the Pontificate; who would not have been disturbed at seeing himself designated to succeed him who, ruling the Church with supreme wisdom for nearly twenty-six years, showed himself adorned with such sublimity of mind, such luster of every virtue. as to attract to himself the admiration even of adversaries, and to leave his memory stamped in glorious achievements. Then again, to omit other motives, We were terrified beyond all else by the disastrous state of human society today. For who can fail to see that society is at the present time, more than in any past age, suffering from a terrible and deep-rooted malady which, developing every day and eating into its inmost being, is dragging it to destruction?

And remember, Pius, is the last pope to be canonized. He is, in the Church's judgment, a model pope. Yet he's nearly crushed under the weight of both the office, and his own unworthiness. That's a powerful testament.

(4) Benedict XV: Zeal, Tempered by Bitter Sorrow

Pope Pius X's successor was Benedict XV (1914-1922), who immediately was filled with an eager zeal for souls, a sensation quickly soured by the sorrow at the devastation of the First World War, which had begun only a few months earlier. From Ad Beatissimi Apostolorum (1914):

Pope Benedict XV
1. Raised by the inscrutable counsel of Divine Providence without any merit of our own to the Chair of the Prince of the Apostles, we hearkened to those words of Christ Our Lord addressed to Peter, "Feed my lambs, feed my sheep" (John xxii. 15-17) as spoken to Ourselves, and at once with affectionate love we cast our eyes over the flock committed to our care-a numberless flock indeed, comprising in different ways the whole human race. For the whole of mankind was freed from the slavery of sin by the shedding of the blood of Jesus Christ as their ransom, and there is no one who is excluded from the benefit of this Redemption: hence the Divine Pastor has one part of the human race already happily sheltered within the fold, the others He declares He will lovingly urge to enter therein: "and other sheep I have, that are not of this fold; them also must I bring, and they shall hear my voice" (John x. 16).

2. We make no secret, Venerable Brethren, that the first sentiment we felt in our heart, prompted certainly by the goodness of God, was the inexpressible yearning of a loving desire for the salvation of all mankind, and in assuming the Pontificate our sincere wish was that of Our Lord Jesus Christ Himself, when about to die on the Cross: "Holy Father, keep them in Thy name, whom Thou hast given me" (John xvii. 11).

German soldiers (1915)
3. But as soon as we were able from the height of Apostolic dignity to survey at a glance the course of human affairs, our eyes were met by the sad conditions of human society, and we could not but be filled with bitter sorrow. For what could prevent the soul of the common Father of all being most deeply distressed by the spectacle presented by Europe, nay, by the whole world, perhaps the saddest and most mournful spectacle of which there is any record. Certainly those days would seem to have come upon us of which Christ Our Lord foretold: "You shall hear of wars and rumours of wars-for nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom" (Matt. xxiv, 6, 7). On every side the dread phantom of war holds sway: there is scarce room for another thought in the minds of men. The combatants are the greatest and wealthiest nations of the earth; what wonder, then, if, well provided with the most awful weapons modern military science has devised, they strive to destroy one another with refinements of horror. There is no limit to the measure of ruin and of slaughter; day by day the earth is drenched with newly-shed blood, and is covered with the bodies of the wounded and of the slain. Who would imagine as we see them thus filled with hatred of one another, that they are all of one common stock, all of the same nature, all members of the same human society? Who would recognize brothers, whose Father is in Heaven?

Our current pope took the name Benedict in large part because of Benedict XV, who he described as a “prophet of peace.”

(5) John Paul II: Faithful Obedience

Pope John Paul II needs no introduction, but I nevertheless found his reaction interesting. From Redemptor Hominis (1978), his first encyclical:

It was to Christ the Redeemer that my feelings and my thoughts were directed on 16 October of last year, when, after the canonical election, I was asked: "Do you accept?" I then replied: "With obedience in faith to Christ, my Lord, and with trust in the Mother of Christ and of the Church, in spite of the great difficulties, I accept". Today I wish to make that reply known publicly to all without exception, thus showing that there is a link between the first fundamental truth of the Incarnation, already mentioned, and the ministry that, with my acceptance of my election as Bishop of Rome and Successor of the Apostle Peter, has become my specific duty in his See.

This is also the encyclical in which he explains why he chose the name John Paul II, in case you're curious.

(6) Clement XIV: Troubled, But Trusting

Finally, Pope Clement XIV (1769-1774), one of only four Franciscan popes. His first encyclical, Cum Summi, from December 12, 1769, captures well both the gravity of the papacy, and the importance of faith in Christ:

Pope Clement XIV

When We contemplate Our position and consider the gravity of its burden, We are deeply disturbed both because of the magnitude of the task itself and the weakness of Our resources. We seem to have been called into the depths of the sea from the peace of a quiet life as if from a most safe harbor to rule the bark of blessed Peter, to be shaken by great floods and to be all but submerged by the force of the tempest. Truly this is the Lord's doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes. It was not because of human counsel but rather by His inscrutable judgment that such a care had been unexpectedly laid upon Us. Therefore, we are buoyed up by a certain hope that He who has chosen Us will, Himself remove Our fear, and infirmity and will hear Us in the depths of the storm. The memory of Peter trembling in the sea and of the Lord reproving his little faith will confirm Us in the same trust. Surely He wishes Us to put aside all doubt about obtaining His help and to act with the hope of His grace, rather than from fear of Our weakness. Therefore, We obey His will, and We hand Ourselves over to His faithfulness and power. For if He has decided to aid Our labors in the present circumstances for the safety of His Church, everyone will surely perceive Him alone as its author and source; hence they will realize that the honor and glory must be given to Him alone. Therefore, We proceed eagerly to undertake this great burden, and We will strive to trust in His powerful help. We will consider no care too great in carrying out our task.

Clement's papacy was controversial: he's presented as something of a bad guy in the movie The Mission, in that he suppressed the Society of Jesus, better known as the Jesuits. This was done at the "urging" of the powerful Catholic nations of Europe (Portugal, France, Spain, Parma, and the Two Sicilies), and Clement was clear that he acted "in the name of peace of the Church and to avoid of secession in Europe," instead of condemning anything the Jesuits said or did.

Conclusion

From listening to the words of the various popes themselves, it's clear that the papacy is both an incredible honor, and an absolutely terrifying responsibility. As Clement XIV put it in another of his encyclicals,

Pope Clement XIV's Coat of Arms

Since We have been elevated to the Papacy by the inscrutable counsel of divine wisdom and goodness and by no merits of Our own, while acknowledging the gift of God, We also fear His judgment. And so, as often as We seriously contemplate the task entrusted to Us, We are frightened by its gravity. Our awareness of the weakness of Our own resources deeply disturbs Us. If We were not confident of His help, We could lose courage altogether. Therefore, We implore the help of all Christians in invoking God to strengthen Us, to fill Us with the knowledge of His will, and to pour into Us the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of knowledge and holiness, and the spirit of counsel and fortitude. Then in the midst of so many difficulties, We may come to know what must be done, and with Our eyes ever directed to Him, We may carry out profitably what is right. Let us beseech Him to watch over the chosen vineyard which He has planted and to foster with the gifts of His grace His people walking in the ways of His commandments in this earthly pilgrimage and happily bring them to the promised rewards of eternal life.

Let us then remember to trust always in Christ, to trust always in prayer, and to pray for the pope constantly.

Two Interesting Arguments for God: Intelligibility & Desire

2012-01-13T12:07:00.000-05:00

I wanted to share two simple arguments for God's existence that I don't see used very often :the argument from intelligibility, and the argument from desire.

I. The Argument from Intelligibility

The argument from intelligibility is one that Pope Benedict is largely responsible for. Fr. Robert Barron explains the argument in Catholicism (pp. 67-68):

Pope Benedict XVI
In 1968 a young theology professor at the University of Tübingen formulated a neat argument for God's existence that owed a good deal to Thomas Aquinas but also drew on more contemporary sources. The theologian's name was Joseph Ratzinger, now Pope Benedict XVI. Ratzinger commences with the observation that finite being, as we experience it, is marked, through and through, by intelligibility, that it is to say, by a formal structure that makes it understandable to an inquiring mind.

In point of fact, all of the sciences - physics, chemistry, psychology, astronomy, biology, and so forth - rest on the assumption that at all levels, microscopic and macroscopic, being can be known. The same principle was acknowledged in ancient times by Pythagoras, who said that all existing things correspond in numeric value, and in medieval times by the scholastic philsophers who forumlated the dictum omne ens est scibile (all being in knowable).

Ratzinger argues that the only finally satisfying explanaiton for this universal objective intelligibility is a great Intelligence who has thought the universe into being. Our language provides an intriguing clue in this regard, for we speak of our acks of knowledge as moments of “recognition,” literally a re-cognition, a thinking again what has already been thought. Ratzinger cites Einstein in support of this connection: “in the laws of nature, a mind so superior is revealed that in comparison, our minds are as something worthless.” The prologue to the Gospel of John states, “In the beginning was the Word,” and specifies that all things came to be through this divine Logos, implying thereby that the being of the universe is not dumbly there, but rather intelligently there, imbued by a creative mind with intelligible structure.

In other words, all science points to God, since all science requires intelligibility, which in turn, requires an Intelligent Creator.

Einstein

Much time and energy is wasted on the Intelligent Design debate over things like irreducible complexity, that the more fundamental questions aren't being asked. Whether the universe was a good idea or a bad idea, a holy plan or an evil plan, it's still an idea, and a plan. This necessarily requires a Thinker and a Planner. Consider the stability of math, of the universal constants, of the fundamental interactions. Two plus two doesn't suddenly equal five, but there's no natural explanation for why these things remain stable (in fact, since these are immaterial truths, materialism can't even approach them). Yet if two plus two generated a random result, we could never have math or science, never develop any technology, and all existence would be a series of random and inexplicable events that our brains would be incapable of processing.

By the way, while Benedict developed this argument, we see variations of it being made back in the early days of the 300s, when St. Athanasius argued that “if the movement of creation were irrational, and the universe were borne along without plan, a man might fairly disbelieve what we say. But if it subsist in reason and wisdom and skill, and is perfectly ordered throughout, it follows that He that is over it and has ordered it is none other than the [reason or] Word of God.” So the argument has a pretty solid pedigree, such as it is.

II. The Argument from Desire

C.S. Lewis (in his second appearance on the blog this week) describes the argument from hunger this way, in Mere Christianity (pp. 136-37):

The Christian says ‘Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim:: well, there is such a thing as water. Men feel sexual desire: well, there is such a thing as sex. If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it, that does not prove that the universe is a fraud. Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing. If that is so, I must take care, on the one hand, never to despise, or to be unthankful for, these earthly blessings, and on the other, never to mistake them for the something else of which they are only a copy, or echo, or mirage. I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find till after death; I must never let it get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it the main object of life to press on to that other country and to help others do the same.’

This argument is self-explanatory, but let me answer two objections.

Juan de Juanes,
Jesus with the Eucharist (mid-16th c.)

First, the hunger for God may be stronger or weaker for certain people than others. That's quite natural. Some people have larger appetites than others, some people are seemingly uninterested (or conversely, obsessed) with sex, etc. But some degree of a hunger for God exists in every human soul.

Second, while our desires correspond to realities, but they can be corrupted and perverted. Gluttony is a perversion of our natural desire for food, lust is a perversion of our natural desire for sex, and so on. But standing back, we can see why hunger (and gluttony) exist, and why sexual desires (and lust) exist. These are desires that are ordered towards the attainment of specific goals. So even if the hunger for God gets perverted in some way, this doesn't deny the reality that God exists, and that we long for Him.

Finally, with our desire for God, the appropriate question ought to be: could anything less than God possibly satisfy this hunger? We try to appease that hunger for God by substituting earthly pleasures: wealth, honor, power, and sensible pleasures (everything from sex to overeating). But that's like drinking a lot of water when you're hungry for food. It might fill the void for a while, but it doesn't really satisfy the craving. Our souls are made with an aching hunger for God.

Jesus v. Religion?

2012-01-12T17:41:00.006-05:00

A common trend in Evangelical circles these days is to pit Jesus against religion, or Christianity, or the Church. Evangelicals are latecomers to this fad: liberal “spiritual, but not religious” types have been doing it for ages. But Evangelicals are definitely feeling it these days. Steve McCranie, pastor of “The Church Without Walls,” authored a book called Love Jesus, Hate Church, and the fact that there's even a market for that book is telling. And Jefferson Bethke's poem, “Why I hate Religion, but Love Jesus” has been making waves on the Internet. These critiques always sound a similar chord: the problem in Christianity is always other people. They're the ones not living the Faith out right. They're the hypocritical sinners. Of course we're not to blame.

Anyways, both McCranie and Bethke point out real problems in Christianity. Christianity today (and yesterday, and tomorrow) is wounded by the Fall. Or more specifically, we Christians are wounded by the fall. Becoming a Christian doesn't miraculously remove the temptation to be a jerk (although it actually does help, a discussion for another time). And plenty of people call themselves Christian without living out their faith: they've got faith without works, a dead and worthless faith (James 2:20-24), which lacks “the obedience of faith” (Romans 1:5).

But here's the core problem with McCranie and Bethke: the solution isn't to attack religion, or Christianity, or the Church. The problem is within each one of us: we need to ensure that we don't just know about Jesus, but that we know Him, and that we're not just going through the motions (whether those are Catholic or Protestant or Orthodox motions). If you want to bash spiritual lukewarmness and hypocrisy, I'm all in. But if you jump from there to claiming (as Bethke does), “What if I told you Jesus came to abolish religion,” I start to head for the exits. Because that's totally wrong, and contradicted in pretty explicit terms by Scripture.

Hans Holbein the Elder,
Presentation of Christ at the Temple (1501)

Both Marc Barnes and Brock Smith have great posts explaining why Bethke's anti-religion poem is wrong. Brock, for example, writes:

I want to examine the claim that "Jesus hated religion and called the religious fools." Is it too simple for me to respond that Jesus was a practicing Jew? He loved his religion! He had the ability to see through the actual law and into the heart of the law. He fulfilled the law (Romans 8:3). The law's goals were to bring people closer to God, and more in line with love. The "fools" practiced their law to a T, but were standing in the presence of God and failed to realize it!

Since those guys already addressed most of the specific claims made by Bethke, I wanted to take a few steps back and point out what Scripture actually says about the Christian religion, and the Church:

“And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the powers of death shall not prevail against it.” (Jesus, in Matthew 16:18).
“Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish.” (Ephesians 5:25-27)
“If any one thinks he is religious, and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his heart, this man's religion is vain. Religion that is pure and undefiled before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.” (James 1:26-27)
“If a widow has children or grandchildren, let them first learn their religious duty to their own family and make some return to their parents; for this is acceptable in the sight of God.” (1 Timothy 5:4).

So yes, Christianity has always been a religion, from the very beginning, with religious duties and everything. And that's good, because these duties include things like caring for the less fortunate. And no, the Church isn't the enemy of Christ. She is His Body, and His Bride. He built Her Himself. He died on the Cross for Her. St. Cyprian of Carthage, back in 251 A.D., summarized the Scriptures well: “He can no longer have God for his Father, who has not the Church for his mother.” Assail Her at your own risk.

Update: There's another great response here; it's an analysis by an Orthodox priest explaining the problems in the poem line-by-line. I think that's probably enough for now.

Update 2: Nicholas Hardesty at Phat Catholic jumps in, doing a good job of drawing out areas of agreement as well as disagreement.

Update 3: Yet more responses, this time from Brandon Vogt and Marcel LeJeune. That's just about everybody, I suppose.

Did the Gospels Evolve?

2012-01-11T18:48:00.000-05:00

Caravaggio, Doubting Thomas (1603)

A common claim from Biblical skeptics is that the earliest New Testament Books tell a very different story than the later Books: that the story of Jesus grew with time, becoming more and more incredible, and less and less historical. In other words, it's the idea that the New Testament evolved from history to religious mythology.

I've seen this argument raised about both the Resurrection and the Divinity of Christ recently. First, retired Episcopal Bishop John Shelby Spong (who denies the Resurrection) celebrated Christmas this year by attacking the historicity of the Gospels, and in particular, the Resurrection account. He makes extensive recourse to the evolving-Bible

If we line up the gospels in the time sequence in which they were written - that is, with Mark first, followed by Matthew, then by Luke and ending with John - we can see exactly how the story expanded between the years 70 and 100.[...] In the first gospel, Mark, the risen Christ appears physically to no one, but by the time we come to the last gospel, John, Thomas is invited to feel the nail prints in Christ’s hands and feet and the spear wound in his side.

Second, a commenter on yesterday's post said in response to Lewis' “Lord, liar, lunatic” trilemma,

That was clearly on the assumption that the gospel of John represents actual history because only in John does he claim to be God. Based simply on the Synoptic gospels, we can say that if Jesus is not God he can still be considered a good man or a moral teacher. C.S. Lewis' false-dilemma require absolute faith in John to work.

Yet we know John doesn't belong with the other gospels, or at least that it isn't as historical as they are. Aside from John alone making Jesus claim to be God, we see how it disagrees on how, when, and where Jesus called his disciples.

Is there any merit to either of these evolving Bible claims? Let's look at each one in turn.

I. The Resurrection

Bishop Spong is being too cute by half in his CNN article. He stacks the deck in two different ways. First, he focuses just on the Gospels, rather than the New Testament as a whole. Second, he claims that in Mark's Gospel, “the risen Christ appears physically to no one.”

The reality is that the earliest New Testament documents describe Christ as (a) physically Resurrected, and (b) appearing to innumerable people. In St. Paul's first letter to the Corinthians, he writes (1 Cor. 15:3-20),

Piero della Francesca, Resurrection (1465)
For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received, that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. Then he appeared to more than five hundred brethren at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have fallen asleep. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles.

Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me. For I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them, though it was not I, but the grace of God which is with me. Whether then it was I or they, so we preach and so you believed.

Now if Christ is preached as raised from the dead, how can some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? But if there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ has not been raised; if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain. We are even found to be misrepresenting God, because we testified of God that he raised Christ, whom he did not raise if it is true that the dead are not raised. For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised.

If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins. Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished. If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all men most to be pitied. But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep.

Alexander Andreyevich Ivanov,
Appearance of Jesus Christ to Mary Magdalene (1835)

So St. Paul tells us that Christ physically rose from the dead. He banks everything on the reality of the Resurrection: if it's not true, the Apostles are liars, the Christians are pathetic, and the Gospel is proclaimed in vain. To validate this claim that Christ physically rose from the dead, Paul appeals to numerous post-Resurrection appearances, apparently well known to his Corinthian audience: Jesus appeared to Peter (Cephas), to the Twelve, to a group of five hundred brethren, and then to St. Paul himself.

In other words, Paul's not just saying, “the Tomb is empty, Jesus must have risen!” but that he had actually seen the Resurrected Christ, as had numerous others, many of whom were still alive and could vouch for this testimony.

Why does this matter? Well, Spong himself dates this passage from First Corinthians to the mid-50s, decades before when he thinks any of the Gospels were written. You can see this on page 201 of his book The Sins of Scripture. This completely destroys his claim that the earliest Resurrection accounts didn't have any post-Resurrection appearances, and that these were added “between the years 70 and 100.” What does Spong do in response? He simply ignores Paul's writings, and focuses on the Gospels alone.

Here, we get to the second way that he stacks the deck. He claims that in Mark's Gospel, “the risen Christ appears physically to no one.” The truth is that there's controversy over whether or not Mark 16:9-20 are part of Mark's original Gospel, because some of the earliest manuscripts don't include this passage. There are three theories:

Mark 16:9-20 was written by Mark, but the section was lost in an early manuscript (and any manuscripts copied from that one).
Mark originally had a different ending, which was lost; Mark 16:9-20 was appended to replace it.
Mark originally ended his Gospel at Mark 16:8; Mark 16:9-20 is a later addition.

Spong assumes theory # 3 is true, without actually telling his readers he's doing this, or justifying this choice.
But even if theory # 3 is true, that doesn't mean that Mark denied post-Resurrection appearances. It would just mean that he stopped his Gospel quite abruptly at the empty Tomb on Easter morning. More likely, such an abrupt ending would be a way to begin an in-person dialogue: that readers would ask whoever gave them a copy of the Gospel what had happened at the Empty Tomb.

So Spong's suggestion that Mark was unaware of any post-Resurrection appearances doesn't follow at all. At most (and this is assuming theory # 3 is true), we can say simply that the post-Resurrection appearances postdated the events he's describing in his Gospel. Likewise, it's not unusual that the Gospels don't record details about Pentecost or the life of the early Church, or that Churchill biographies don't record details about the life of Thatcher. These things are simply outside of the scope of the work. Again, this is true only if Mark really did end his Gospel abruptly in v. 8, which is by no means certain.

So it's not clear that Mark's Gospel originally ended at v. 8, and there's no reason to believe in any case that he was unaware of post-Resurrection appearances. On the contrary, the earliest New Testament evidence is quite clear about the post-Resurrection appearances. Paul, who predates Mark, writes quite clearly about specific post-Resurrection appearances, as do Matthew (Mt. 28:9-10, Mt. 28:16-20), Luke (Lk. 24:13-53; Acts 1:1-11), and John (Jn. 20:10-11:25).

Of these, the one who lists the most post-Resurrection appearances is actually St. Paul. So this bears none of the marks of a big fish story that gets progressively larger over time. Everyone writing after Paul simply fleshes out specific accounts that he mentions in passing.

II. Jesus' Divinity

Giovanni Savoldo, The Transfiguration (1530)

What about the claim that only John's Gospel depicts Christ as claiming to be Divine? Fr. Robert Barron debunks this claim pretty exhaustively, noting that when Christ claims to be greater than the Temple (Mt. 12:6), and to have the ability to forgive sins (Mark 2:5; Mk. 2:10), He's making claims that a Jewish audience would recognize as claims to Divinity (as they do: Mark 2:7). Likewise, when He declares, “The Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath” (Luke 6:5; Mk. 2:28).

But I want to take this in a slightly different direction, instead. Let's look at just the Gospel of Matthew, for now. In Matthew 2, the Magi come to worship the Christ Child (see Mt. 2:2, Mt. 2:11, and Monday's post on the topic). Various other people worship Christ throughout this Gospel as well: a leper (Mt. 8:2), “a certain ruler” (Mt. 9:18), a Canaanite woman (Mt. 15:25), the mother of James and John (Mt. 20:20), the disciples who witnessed Jesus walking on water (Mt. 14:33), the women who see the Resurrected Christ (Mt. 28:9), and many members of the crowd to which He appears in Mt. 28:9. In exactly none of these cases does Jesus “correct” the acts, which, if mistaken about His Divinity, would be blasphemous.

12th Century Fresco of Jesus and the Apostles

So even if Jesus is being ambiguous in what He's claiming about Himself, we see innumerable people taking this as a declaration that He's Divine, and responding by worshiping Him. When people mistakenly begin to worship two of the Apostles (Acts 10:25-26) or an angel (Rev. 19:10), the recipients of this misplaced worship immediately stop them. Not so with Christ. It's no mistake that He's proclaimed by His followers to be God, because that's exactly what He claimed, and the sort of worship He accepted, during His lifetime.

There's plenty more where that came from, too. For example, “the Son of Man” is a Divine title, which is made transparent by the interaction in Mt. 26:62-65, in which the high priest condemns it as blasphemous. The fact that Jesus uses it repeatedly, throughout all four Gospels (see, e.g., Mt. 11:19; Mk. 2:28; Lk. 22:48; Jn. 3:13) only supports the notion that Christ claimed to be Divine.

But again, that's just Matthew. We could also look to the writings of St. Paul, where he describes Christ as being equal with God, and having the very nature of God (Phil. 2:6), a passage which Paul concludes (in Phil. 2:10-11) by applying the words of Isaiah 45:22-23 to Christ. Read Isaiah 45:22-23, and you'll see why that's important. Likewise in the Letter to the Hebrews, the angels are commanded to worship Christ (Heb. 1:6).

Remember that Paul's writings are generally held to be the earliest New Testament documents, yet the letter to the Philippians is really clear that Jesus is God. So again, there's no evidence (at all) that this is an idea that only slowly emerged within Christianity. Like the Resurrection, this is at the core of the Faith from the very beginning.

A Catholic Trillema: Why the Church Can't Just be a "Good Denomination"

2012-01-10T16:53:00.000-05:00

C. S. Lewis (1898-1963)

C.S. Lewis famously argued that given what Jesus claimed about Himself, He was either Lord, liar, or lunatic -- that if He wasn't God, He couldn't be considered merely a good man or a moral teacher. Lewis explained in Mere Christianity why this argument is important:

I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: ‘I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept His claims to be God.’ That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic - on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg - or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God; or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit on Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.

While Lewis' trillema (as this argument has come to be called) has come in for a fair amount of criticism, it strikes me that a very similar argument may be used within Christianity by Catholics. Specifically, the Catholic Church is either the Divinely Instituted Bride of Christ, or an utterly delusional Church, or something of satanic origin.

I. The Catholic Church's Trilemma

St. Peter's Basilica

Like Her Lord, the the Catholic Church makes some incredibly bold claims. For example, She claims to be of Divine origin: to be that Church Christ spoke of establishing in Matthew 16:17-19, and that St. Paul called the pillar and foundation of Truth in 1 Timothy 3:15. She claims to be the Body of Christ, the Bride of Christ, and the Temple of the Holy Spirit (CCC 807-809). She even claims to be absolutely necessary for salvation, and says things like this (CCC 869):

The Church is apostolic. She is built on a lasting foundation: "the twelve apostles of the Lamb" (Rev 21:14). She is indestructible (cf. Mt 16:18). She is upheld infallibly in the truth: Christ governs her through Peter and the other apostles, who are present in their successors, the Pope and the college of bishops.

Repeatedly throughout Her history, the Church has claimed to speak on behalf of the Holy Spirit in settling a particular dispute or defining a specific dogma.

So the Catholic Church emphatically denies being just another denomination -- in fact, She denies being a denomination or sect at all. She claims to be the sole Bride of Christ. And as I noted above, She believes that “Christ governs her through Peter and the other apostles, who are present in their successors, the Pope and the college of bishops.” Thus, She is led either by the Lord (acting through the visible leaders of the Church), or by a bunch of liars or lunatics. Because if the Catholic Church's claims about Herself are false, Her leaders are either dangerously delusional, or manipulative to a breath-taking degree. And She's not a good-but-imperfect denomination, as something like Methodism might be; She's either the one true Church, or a danger to the souls of Christians.

So to paraphrase Lewis, let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about Her being a great human institution. She has not left that open to us. She did not intend to.

II. Is the Church led by the Lord, or by Liars and Lunatics?

Given what I just said, the question then becomes: well, which is She? And how can we know? And I think that this is one of those instances in which the evidence is right there for any thoughtful Protestant to recognize. Let's consider just two major ways that we can know this: first, by the fact that the Catholic Church has saved Christianity repeatedly; and second, that She has proclaimed the same Gospel consistently. To see this, I want to look at three different areas: the Trinity, Christology, and the Bible. All three of these are complex issues on which it's easy to get things wrong. And yet on all three of them, even Protestants have to concede their utter dependency upon the Catholic Church.

(1) The Catholic Church Preserved the Doctrine of the Trinity

Almost every Protestant denomination today believes in the Trinity: that there is One God who is Three Persons; that each of these Three Persons are fully God, and yet not separate gods; that Each of these Three Persons have existed for all eternity; and that Each are of equal glory and majesty. There were countless heresies that arose, often quite popular or supported by powerful factions or by the State, yet each time the Catholic Church won out. And each time, the Catholic Church won out by defending (without compromise) the curious notion of the Trinity.

From a Protestant perspective, the shocking thing ought to be that the Catholic Church was right every time. When the Assyrian Church of the East broke off from the Catholic Church, the mainstream Protestant sides with the Catholic Church. Same with the Oriental Orthodox Church, or a myriad more heresies or schisms. In fact, when some element of Trinitarian doctrine was denied, no matter how small, it always was the visible, institutional Church that finally laid the heresy to rest.

Had the Catholic Church budged, and given any to any of the shifting winds of non-Trinitarian heresies, the doctrine of the Trinity would almost certainly have been lost forever. What Christian, after all, has ever deduced the full doctrine of the Trinity from private reading of Scripture?

(2) The Catholic Church Preserved the Doctrine of the Dual Natures of Christ

Giovanni Girolamo Savoldo, Transfiguration (c. 1530)

Almost every Protestant denomination professes faith in the Dual Natures of Christ: that Jesus is fully God and fully man; that He has two Natures, one Divine and one Human; yet that He is only One Person. This is the hypostatic union, which I've discussed recently. Once again, there were countless heresies (including Docetism, Adoptionism, Nestorianism and Monophysitism), and many of them seemed quite convincing. Yet the Catholic Church stuck to Her guns, defending the curious notion of the hypostatic union, and consistently won at. Once again, it was the visible, institutional Church that laid heresy after heresy to rest, and each time, the Catholic Church was right.

Again, it's astonishing enough that the Catholic Church was right every time, but recognize also that had the Catholic Church not been around, it's exceedingly unlikely that an ordinary layman reading the Bible would ever have figured out the hypostatic union (feel free to mention any exceptions to this in the comments below).

(3) The Catholic Church Saved the Bible

Caravaggio, St. Jerome (1606)

Finally, every Protestant denomination (that I know of) believes in at least 66 of the Books of the Catholic Bible. What's striking isn't that they reject the Deuterocanon. What's striking is that from their own viewpoint, the Catholic Church didn't lose a single Divinely-inspired Book over the course of well over a millennium. All Sixty-Six Books of the Protestant Bible were preserved whole and inviolate for countless centuries by the Catholic Church.

This is more incredible when you consider that some of the earliest heresies that the Church faced (including Gnosticism and Marcionism, and later, Manichaeism) taught the same thing: that the God of the Old Testament was different than the God of the New Testament, and that the Old Testament God was evil. They, obviously, wanted the Old Testament destroyed, or at the least, not included in the canon of Scripture.

If Catholicism had lost, and something like Marcionism had won out, imagine the resultant Bible. That's easy to do, actually, since Marcion was clear that he thought only Eleven Books belonged in the Christian canon: a version of the Gospel of Luke that he edited, and ten of Paul's Epistles. Had he had his way, the rest of the Bible would have been immediately lost to history. That is, you can't get Luther's Bible, or the modern Protestant Bible, without inheriting the Bible from the Church first.

Add to this that the Catholic Church remained incredibly consistent, and incredibly evangelical: She has proclaimed the same Gospel for centuries, and to the ends of the Earth.

III. Conclusion

So on the most critical issues facing Christianity, the Catholic Church was (a) consistent, and (b) correct. I don't know of any Church or denomination that comes close to this kind of track record. There are a few possibilities for why this could be:

Velasco, Pentecost (1535)

God worked through the Catholic Church, in spite of Her being a false Church: this option doesn't make a lot of sense. Why would He repeatedly vindicate the Catholic Church's claim to be the Bride of Christ if She wasn't? If Catholicism isn't the true Church, why wouldn't He preserve the Gospel through some other institution? At the least, why not permit the Catholic Church to fall at least once so obviously that any fair-minded Christian could see that the Church was full of contradictions and heresies? The idea that God would repeatedly present the true Gospel through a false Church seems incomprehensible, and even deceptive.
The Devil propped up the Catholic Church by permitting Her to get core doctrines right: this option basically supposes that a good lie contains a little truth. But it's even less convincing than the first idea, since it would involve the devil preserving the very Gospel that defeats him. All he would have had to have done to triumph over Christianity would be to let Her go astray on any of these core doctrines. So it doesn't make sense to claim that the Catholic Church is demonic in origin, since She's been responsible for both preserving the Gospel, and spreading it to the ends of the Earth.

St. Athanasius

Mere men just got lucky, repeatedly: this is the idea that the theologians of the Catholic Church were just consistently that good, and that consistent (for centuries!), without Divine aid. But the odds of this are staggering. If the Church wasn't being led by God or the devil, but was a merely human institution, we should see the sort of abrupt reversals in statements of belief that we see elsewhere. For example, the Anglican Communion affirmed one set of beliefs under Henry VIII, another under Edward and Cranmer (which quite intentionally contradicted the first), and has no clear cohesive set of beliefs today: their primate has denied the orthodox Christian understanding of both the Incarnation and the hypostatic union, affirming something like Nestorianism instead. To say that Cranmer's Anglicanism was true, you'd have to say Henry's Anglicanism was wrong, and vice versa: to affirm the Anglicanism proclaimed by Williams, you'd have to deny teachings Henry and Cranmer affirmed. Nothing of the sort is required within Catholicism: right or wrong, She proclaims the same Gospel consistently. This doesn't appear to be merely human in origin.
The Church is Who She says She is: Ultimately, this strikes me as the only really credible theory of Christian history. The visible institutional Church has always claimed to be led by the Holy Spirit (Acts 15:28), and has consistently acted in such a way that this claim appears to be true. And it's nonsensical to think that God would work through Her if She wasn't the truth Church, since He would be leading His people into heresy.

Obviously, there's much more that can be said. But I think that in the end, the argument boils down to this. The Catholic Church cannot be treated as simply one good denomination among many, and more than Christ can be treated as simply one moral Teacher among many. She's either of God, of deluded men, or of the devil. And Her continual defense of orthodoxy throughout history, Her incredible ability to always be on the right side of the major controversies of the day, doesn't credibly lend to the explanation that She's run by deluded men or controlled by the devil. Which leaves us, quite simply with this: the Catholic Church really is Who She says She is. And we, as Christians, need to respond to that in faith.

God, King, Sacrifice: The Gifts of the Magi

2012-01-09T14:26:00.002-05:00

Yesterday was (for most of us) the Feast of the Epiphany, which commemorates the Magi's visit to the Infant Jesus. It's easy to turn it into something schmaltzy, but this is actually one of the most theologically rich parts of the Bible.

Jan de Bray, The Adoration of the Magi (1674)

Gold: As I've explained before, Psalm 72:8-10 prophesies that the Messiah would receive gifts from “the kings of Sheba and Seba,” and Ps. 72:15 specifically mentions “the gold of Sheba.” Gold, of course, is the customary gift for a powerful king. But the Psalm hints that the Messiah is more than a King: it ends cryptically, by speaking of the Messiah and the “LORD, the God of Israel” as if They are One and the Same, and have the same Name (Ps. 72:17-19).
Frankincense: This is the incense poured upon sacrifices offered to God (see, e.g., Lev. 2:1-2). Isaiah 60 builds off of Psalm 72, and foretells that “all from Sheba shall come bearing gold and frankincense” for the Messiah (Is. 60:6). This confirms what Psalm 72 hinted at: that the Messiah will be both King and God. But Isaiah 60 hints at something even bigger: frankincense is poured upon a sacrifice. Like Isaac, we're left wondering, “where is the lamb for the burnt offering?” (Gen. 22:7).
Myrrh: The startling fulfillment to Psalm 72 and Isaiah 60 comes in Matthew 2:11. The Magi come and worship the Christ Child. Even the LDS, who deny that Christ is to be an object of worship, concede that in Mt. 2:11, the Magi “saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him.” They then present him gifts: gold, frankenincense ... and myrrh. The first two were prophesied, but the third is a shock. It's an embalming spice, and while it's very expensive, it seems like a tasteless gift, particularly for an infant. Father Ryan Erlenbush has a great post explaining just what myrrh is, and how it was used in ancient times to prevent decomposition in corpses. In fact, Nicodemus pours myrrh upon Christ's Body after His Death (John 19:39-40).

Christ's Descent from the Cross (17th c.)

This third gift answers the question that Isaiah 60 left hanging, the question that Isaac asked on the road to Mt. Tabor. Abraham's answer is correct: “My son, God will provide himself a lamb for a burnt offering:” (Gen. 22:8). But John the Baptist's answer is more specific, when he cries out upon seeing Jesus, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29).

Jesus Christ is King, but not in the way that we expect (John 18:36; Luke 23:3; Mark 15:26). And He's God, but He's not just the recipient of sacrifices . He is the Sacrifice.

This is the startling, beautiful twist that the New Testament reveals in the fulfillment of the Old Testament prophesies. The Israelites were expecting the Messiah to come and conquer Israel's enemies, and He did. But the mortal enemy of Israel weren't the Babylon conquerors, or the Assyrian or Roman imperialists; the mortal enemy of Israel was the slavery of sin. It wasn't Caesar who was in Jesus' sights: it was Satan.

The Magi's gifts are rather peculiar, even startling. But this is fitting, for so is Christ.

Newly Named Cardinal Thomas Collins Defending the Unborn

2012-01-06T14:48:00.000-05:00

Pope Benedict announced 22 new Cardinals, including Archbishop Dolan of New York (the surprise was simply how quickly he became a Cardinal, but I'm thrilled at his elevation). But I wanted to highlight one of the other newly named Cardinals, Archbishop Thomas Collins of Toronto. Fr. Arne singled him out at Mass today, because he'd actually been in the CIC bookstore yesterday, while the nuncio was trying to find him to tell him the news.

As Archbishop of Toronto, Collins was confronted with an ugly situation: the Canadian government awarded its highest honor, the Order of Canada, upon an abortionist, Dr. Henry Morgentaler. Abp. Collins's response was at once forceful and graceful:

Canada’s highest honour has been debased. Henry Morgentaler has been awarded the Order of Canada. We are all diminished.

A community’s worth is measured by the way it treats the most vulnerable, and no one is more vulnerable than in the first nine months of life’s journey. No person may presume to judge the soul of Henry Morgentaler, but it cannot be denied that the effect of his life’s work has been a deadly assault upon the most helpless amongst us.

Canada glories in the names of Banting and Best, and the other medical heroes who selflessly brought healing where there was disease and suffering. Now it honours with the Order of Canada a medical man who has brought not healing, but the destruction of the defenseless and immeasurable grief. This award must not stand.

I earnestly appeal to all who are tempted to resort to an abortionist, or are pressured to do so by those around them. I urge you to contact organizations such as Birthright, and others who will support you and love you and your precious child. Contact your parish. We are here for you. I pledge to you the support of the Catholic Church. Look to our archdiocesan website at www.archtoronto.org for information concerning places where you may find loving help.

For those who have had an abortion, and bear within your heart the fearful grief, I urge you to contact us, to find love and support in your anguish, and in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, to find the gift of inner peace.

I ask the faithful of the Archdiocese of Toronto, and all people of good will, to protest this act of dishonour. Write, phone, or e-mail the Governor General, the Prime Minister, and your Member of Parliament. Ask that this action be revoked.

This coming Sunday will be a day of special prayer in the Archdiocese of Toronto, for an end to the evil of abortion. I have asked that the following prayer be inserted in the Prayer of the Faithful in all the churches of the archdiocese:

“That the scourge of abortion be lifted from our land, that those who promote it may be brought to a change of heart, that all who are tempted to abortion may be lovingly helped to protect the precious gift of life, and that all who have experienced an abortion may be comforted with the healing gift of love.”

Amen, your Eminence!

Might I also suggest the perfect way to celebrate Archbishop Thomas Collins elevation to the College of Cardinals?

The Prophetic Pope Paul VI, and the Consequences of Contraception

2012-01-05T11:35:00.000-05:00

Pope Paul VI (1977)

Pope Paul VI gets a lot of grief from both conservative and liberal Catholics. His pontificate, which lasted from 1963 to 1978, was at a particularly tumultuous time in the Church and the world. But whatever else may be said of Pope Paul, his encyclical on contraception, Humanae Vitae, seems downright prophetic.

The encyclical is from 1968, the sixth year of his pontificate. Vatican II had concluded in 1965, and already, there were all sorts of innovations (both the pious and the bizarre) being defended as being in “the spirit of Vatican II.” The doors seemed open to Modernity, for the Church to become compatible with the world. And it's here, at this point in history, that Catholics began really openly questioning the Church's ban on contraception. It seemed so hopelessly archaic: what's the moral danger of contraception, after all?

Pope Paul took his time deliberating on this question, but when an answer finally came down from the chair of Peter, it was a thing of beauty. The entire encyclical is worth a read, but we get the clearest glimpse of the Holy Spirit's behind-the-scenes work in paragraph 17, in which Paul predicts the “consequences of artificial methods”:

Carlo Saraceni, Gregory the Great (1610)
Responsible men can become more deeply convinced of the truth of the doctrine laid down by the Church on this issue if they reflect on the consequences of methods and plans for artificial birth control. Let them first consider how easily this course of action could open wide the way for marital infidelity and a general lowering of moral standards. Not much experience is needed to be fully aware of human weakness and to understand that human beings—and especially the young, who are so exposed to temptation—need incentives to keep the moral law, and it is an evil thing to make it easy for them to break that law. Another effect that gives cause for alarm is that a man who grows accustomed to the use of contraceptive methods may forget the reverence due to a woman, and, disregarding her physical and emotional equilibrium, reduce her to being a mere instrument for the satisfaction of his own desires, no longer considering her as his partner whom he should surround with care and affection.

Finally, careful consideration should be given to the danger of this power passing into the hands of those public authorities who care little for the precepts of the moral law. Who will blame a government which in its attempt to resolve the problems affecting an entire country resorts to the same measures as are regarded as lawful by married people in the solution of a particular family difficulty? Who will prevent public authorities from favoring those contraceptive methods which they consider more effective? Should they regard this as necessary, they may even impose their use on everyone. It could well happen, therefore, that when people, either individually or in family or social life, experience the inherent difficulties of the divine law and are determined to avoid them, they may give into the hands of public authorities the power to intervene in the most personal and intimate responsibility of husband and wife.

In other words, Paul was able to see everything from the loosening of societal morals and the increase in infidelity, to the “pornification” of culture (and objectification of women), to the risk of state-imposed contraception (including sterilization). And he saw all of these things in 1968, when perilously few others were sounding the alarm.

A few years ago, on the fortieth anniversary of Humanae Vitae, the Hoover Institute's Mary Eberstadt wrote a piece for First Things demonstrating how each of the four predictions (which Eberstadt summarizes as “a general lowering of moral standards throughout society; a rise in infidelity; a lessening of respect for women by men; and the coercive use of reproductive technologies by governments”) had come true. In that piece, she notes an odd irony, that Humanae Vitae has been vindicated by the empirical data produced by secular social scientists:

Although it is largely Catholic thinkers who have connected the latest empirical evidence to the defense of Humanae Vitae's predictions, during those same forty years most of the experts actually producing the empirical evidence have been social scientists operating in the secular realm. As sociologist W. Bradford Wilcox emphasized in a 2005 essay: “The leading scholars who have tackled these topics are not Christians, and most of them are not political or social conservatives. They are, rather, honest social scientists willing to follow the data wherever it may lead.”

Whatever else may be said for or against Paul VI's pontificate, he tackled a thorny and unpopular moral issue in a pastoral way, and in a way that appears prophetic in hindsight. He saw, when so few could see it, how dangerous contraception was. The tragic irony is that even now, as we suffer from the social ills it helped herald, we're largely too blind to make the connection.

Jim Crow and the Protestant Bible

2012-01-04T14:56:00.001-05:00

In the past, I've argued against Protestant special pleading on Tradition. I asked, “if an individual Christian declares that all (or virtually all) Christians on Earth misunderstand core elements of the Gospel, but that he understands it correctly, could he be right?” The answer appears to be no, unless he's one of the Reformers. Today, I want to look at another area of special pleading: Scripture.

Basically, Protestants hold the Books of the Protestant Bible to one set of standards, and the Books of the Deuterocanon (which Catholics accept, and which Protestants reject as Apocrypha) to quite another.

I. Special Pleading and Jim Crow Literacy Tests

An 1879 cartoon against literacy tests

For many decades in the South, Jim Crow reigned supreme. On paper, African-Americans were entitled to the right to vote. In fact, the Constitution guaranteed it (specifically, the Fifteenth Amendment). To get around this, many Southern states set up a series of insurmountable obstacles for eligible black voters. One of the most notorious is the literacy test. Alabama's literacy test is described here:

In "Part A" the applicant was given a selection of the Constitution to read aloud. The registrar could assign you a long complex section filled with legalese and convoluted sentences, or he could tell you to read a simple one or two sentence section. The Registrar marked each word he thought you mispronounced. In some cases you had to orally interpret the section to the registrar's satisfaction. You then had to either copy out by hand a section of the Constitution, or write it down from dictation as the registrar spoke (mumbled) it. White applicants usually were allowed to copy, Black applicants usually had to take dictation. The Registrar then judged whether you were able to "read and write," or if you were "illiterate."

In other words, beneath the facade of a generally-applicable test, there were really two different tests: a relatively easy one for whites, and a much harder one for blacks. I think we see something similar here. The Books Protestants are used to seeing in their Bibles get a very easy test, while the Deuterocanon is held to a much stricter standard, a standard that much of the Protestant Bible couldn't meet.

II. Protestant Arguments Against the Deuterocanon

Let's start with the five reasons that Protestants often cite in their rejection of the Deuterocanon. What I want you to note throughout is that these reasons are either (a) untrue, or (b) reasons to reject the Protestant Bible as well:

(1) The New Testament Never Alludes to the Deuterocanon

This isn't true. For example, James Swan (a Calvinist blogger with Beggars All Reformation & Apologetics) admits that Hebrews 11:35-37 appears to be a reference to 2 Maccabees 7 (h/t Nick):

It seems highly probable the writer to the Hebrews alluded to the Apocrypha in chapter 11. The parallels Catholic apologists suggest particularly in verse 35 and 2 Maccabees seem likely. “Others were tortured,” “not accepting their release” and “so that they might obtain a better resurrection” appear to be the closest points of contact with 2 Maccabees. As noted above, other vague points of contact could be inferred, but not with the same level of certitude of these three statements. Within the arena of rhetoric and polemics, the above study demonstrates that Protestant exegetes do not disagree with the possibility of Apocryphal allusions in Hebrews 11. Thus, Protestants are not hiding the fact that 2 Maccabees may be what the writer to the Hebrews has in mind.

And in fact, there are quite a few other references to the Deuterocanon in the New Testament. Now, ordinarily, this would be taken as at least evidence of canonicity. But it seems that the Deuterocanon is treated very differently here.

(2) The New Testament Never Directly Quotes the Deuterocanon

This standard appears to be wholly arbitrary: a direct quotation confirms something as Scripture, while an allusion is insufficient? Yet CARM's Matt Slick actually uses this as his lead argument against the Deuterocanon: “First of all, neither Jesus nor the apostles ever quoted from the Apocrypha. There are over 260 quotations of the Old Testament in the New Testament, and not one of them is from these books.”

Enoch and Elijah (17th c.)

If direct quotation is required, a whole lot of the Bible is in trouble. As Slick concedes, “there are several Old Testament books that are not quoted in the New Testament, i.e., Joshua, Judges, Esther, etc.” And Zuck, in Rightly Divided: Readings in Biblical Hermeneutics, concedes that “Of Old Testament books quoted in the New Testament, it is generally agreed that Ruth, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, Ecclesiastes, and Song of Songs are not explicitly cited. To this list some would add Lamentations, others Chronicles.” Yet Protestants readily accept all of those Books as canonical. Worse, the New Testament directly quotes from the Book of Enoch (Jude 1:14-15), and St. Paul quotes both the pagans Aratus (Acts 17:28) and Epimenides (Titus 1:12), calling the later a “prophet.” And yet neither Catholics nor Protestants have anything by Enoch, Aratus or Epimenides in their Bibles (more on that here).

Finally, there's a bit of a gray area in determining what constitutes a “direct quotation.” For example, Zuck writes:

At the same time it is commonly asserted that, however many allusions it may have, Revelation exhibits no direct quotations at all. The NIV footnotes rightly disagree, however, by specifying that Revelation 2:27; 19:15 quote Psalm 2:9 in whole or in part and that Revelation 1:13; 14:14 quote the phrase “like a son of man” from Daniel 7:13.

If you set the bar for “direct quotation” that low, then there are countless direct quotations of the Deuterocanon. On the other hand, if you set the bar for “direct quotation” higher (so that it includes only unambiguous quotation), and the number of direct quotations of any of the Old Testament is much smaller, and more Old Testament Books are excluded.

(3) The Ancient Jews Didn't Accept the Deuterocanon

This is the argument that Slick fell back on when his first argument failed, claiming that Romans 3:1-2 means that “Paul tells us that the Jews were entrusted with the oracles of God. This means that they are the ones who understood what inspired Scriptures were and they never accepted the Apocrypha.” But this argument is similarly untrue.

As Zuck notes, “Most of the New Testament citations of the Old Testament are from the Septuagint (LXX), the Greek translation in common use in first-century Palestine.” Swan admits that the LXX contained some or all of the Deuterocanon, but responds:

Excerpt from the Codex Vaticanus
Roman Catholics argue that since the Septuagint contained Apocryphal books, they were considered scripture. This argument fails for a number of reasons. First, it is not certain that simply because an Apocryphal book was found in an LXX that the Jews considered it scripture. Like the early church, the books could have been included to be used for reading and edification but not considered inspired scripture. Second, the extant evidence shows different Apocryphal books are included in different early manuscripts. That is, no early manuscript contains all the apocryphal books argued for by Rome. Some of the early manuscripts actually contain 3 and 4 Maccabees, writings not considered canonical by Rome.

So Swan's argument boils down to: yes, these Books were found in the early Jewish collections of Scripture, but maybe they weren't Scripture? Bear in mind that there's no evidence that the Books were “included to be used for reading and edification but not considered inspired scripture.” He's just saying it's possible. And certainly, it's possible, but we have no reason to think that's it true. The fact that Heb. 11:35-37 refers to 2 Maccabees 7 reinforces the idea that these Books were considered canonical by the early Jews, since the Epistle to the Hebrews was written to a group of largely-Jewish converts.

At best, the LXX is strong evidence that the Deuterocanonical Books were considered canonical among most first-century Jews (and the New Testament authors). At worst, the first-century Jews had apparently differing canons, and the historical evidence is too fuzzy to form any solid conclusions. Either way, Swan's claim that the Jews “never accepted the Apocrypha” is completely baseless. More on that argument here.

(4) Jesus Refers to the Pharasaic Canon

Slick claims that Jesus referenced the Old Testament as being “from Abel to Zechariah” in Luke 11:51. Based on the Book ordering of the Pharasaic canon, Abel is the first martyr mentioned, and Zechariah is the last (although since the Books weren't in chronological order, he wasn't the last to die for the faith). But as Zuck notes, “Most of the New Testament citations of the Old Testament are from the Septuagint (LXX), the Greek translation in common use in first-century Palestine.” This includes various quotations by Christ Himself. Additionally, particularly prophesies fulfilled in the New Testament are only found in the LXX (e.g., Jesus' use of Psalm 40:6-8 in Hebrews 10:5-7). And in the LXX, Zechariah is not the last martyr mentioned. Plus, the LXX includes most or all of the Deuterocanon (depending on the version).

This is an argument I've answered before, but in a nutshell, the Pharisees held to a canon like that used by modern Protestants (although some Pharisees appear to have held the Book of Wisdom to be canonical). When Jesus condemns the faithlessness of the Pharisees, He condemns them by their own canon. In Matthew 22:23-33, He does something similar with the Sadducees, who only accepted the first five Books of the Bible as canonical (which is why Jesus proves the Resurrection from Exodus 3:6, instead of Daniel 12:1-3, and 1 Samuel 28, and Psalm 16:9-10, etc.). It's not much different from St. Paul using pagan writers in arguing against the pagans (Acts 17:28; Titus 1:12).

If Jesus was fine using the Sadducees' canon (with just the first 5 Books), the Pharisee's canon (the modern Protestant Old Testament) and the LXX (the modern Catholic Old Testament), that's an argument strongly in support of the Deuterocanon, not against it.

(5) The Church Fathers Didn't Uniformly Affirm the Deuterocanon

This is one of the weakest arguments against the Deuterocanon, yet it gets trotted out with surprisingly regularity. Slick, for example, argues that “Roman Catholics strongly appeal to Church history but we don't find a unanimous consensus on the Apocrypha,” and that “we should not conclude that the Church fathers unanimously affirmed the Apocrypha. They didn't.” Okay, so something less than 100% of the early Christians used the modern Catholic canon. But apparently nobody used the Protestant canon.

III. Arguments For the Deuterocanon

So given all that, what are some reasons to accept the Deuterocanon? Precisely because there were different theories as to which Books belonged in the Bible, the Church had the right (and perhaps the duty) to settle the question. And She did so. Let's consider a few things:

St. Augustine (earliest known portrait)

The Third Council of Carthage in 397 A.D. listed the canon of Scripture, and it's the Catholic canon. While that was a regional council (and thus, not infallible), it was attended by St. Augustine, and widely-accepted. It reflected earlier canons, like the one declared at the Synod of Hippo a few years earlier.
Shortly after, the pope commissioned the Vulgate, which included the Deuterocanon.
Readings from the Deuterocanon were (and are) used in Mass.
The Council of Trent finally defined the canon dogmatically, confirming what was widely known: that the Deuterocanon is Scripture.
Nearly all of the Church Fathers treated at least some of the Deuterocanonical Books as Scripture, and folks like St. Augustine were quite clear that all of the Deuterocanonical Books were canonical.
The Deuterocanon is prophetic. Wisdom 2:12-22 prophesies the Death of Christ, and the language tracks with Matthew 27:41-43 closely. Tobit 12:12-15 says that there are seven angels standing before the Throne of God offering up our prayers. This idea, found nowhere else in the Old Testament, is confirmed by Revelation 8:2-5. And of those seven angels, we hear from two of them: Raphael (Tobit 12:15) and Gabriel (Luke 1:19), and they introduce themselves in a nearly-identical ways.

There are plenty of other areas, but when there are distinct prophesies, found only in the Deuterocanon, and those prophesies come true in the New Testament, what further proof do we need?

IV. Conclusion

The Deuterocanon is, by all appearances, as Scriptural as any other part of the Bible. Summarizing the five Protestant tests, we see that: (1) If allusions to a Book suggest that it belong in the canon, then the Deuterocanon is doing alright; (2) if direct quotations are required, a number of Books in the Protestant Bible need to go; (3) if Jewish acceptance is what's required, the Deuterocanon almost certainly meets this standard; (4) if references by Christ to the Pharasaic canon establish its canonicity, then His references to the LXX canon should establish its canonicity, as well; and (5) if uniform acceptance by the Church Fathers is required, no Bible on earth meets that test, but the Catholic Bible can point to at least broad acceptance by the Church Fathers, while the Protestant Bible can point to no acceptance.

On the other hand, we see that the Deuterocanon was confirmed by the Church Fathers, both individually and in Church councils, ratified by the universal Church at the Council of Trent, and is clearly prophetic. In other words, it's Scripture, pure and simple, and is only kept out of Protestant Bibles through special pleading.

The Triumph of Truth Over Power

2012-01-03T16:39:00.000-05:00

Arius

Over at Fr. Longenecker's blog, a commenter wrote:

The only reason you aren't Arian today writing against the "Trinitarian Heresey" [sic] is because the Trinitarians had more power than the Arians. That's all there is to it. One group of powerful men (and its always men that decide these things) ousted the other.

This is a pretty common anti-Catholic and anti-Christian claim. It's always some variation of the following: Catholicism (or Trinitarianism, or belief in Jesus' Divinity, or whatever it is that the critic denies) won out simply because the powerful Catholic party destroyed the party holding to the true faith. Based on his other comments, the person writing this appears to be an atheist, but he could just have easily been a non-Trinitarian Evangelical, or a Mormon, or a Oneness Pentecostal, etc.

The strength of this argument is that the average person has no idea whether this is true or not, and wouldn't even know where to look. This same void has been a real moneymaker for charlatans like Dan Brown and Bart Ehrman, as they claim that prior to a specific event (usually the Council of Nicea), Christianity looked like... well, suspiciously like whatever they want it to look like. If you're a radical feminist, then early Christianity had women Apostles; if you're a Sabbitarian, then early Christianity kept to strict Sabbath rules; if you're a Baptist, then the pre-Nicene Christians were Baptist, etc.

Cristoforo Roncalli, Pope Sylvester Baptizes Constantine (1599)

If nothing else, it makes for a very simple story. The Council of Nicea was in 325. Everything prior to that point was good: in fact, just like the church you're a member of today, or the church you fantasize about creating. Everything after 325 is bad: a bunch of Catholics, men, power, money, corruption, you name it. Everything from the Fall of Man to the Spanish Inquisition happened in 325, and if you're looking for a villain, you've got two to choose from: the Emperor Constantine, and Pope Sylvester I, Bishop of Rome at the time. There's no reason to choose, either. Plenty of anti-Catholic books, like James G. McCarthy's The Gospel According to Rome, blame both. So, too, do the allegedly prophetic writings of Ellen White, the founder of Seventh-Day Adventism.

But precisely because this argument is so old and simplistic, it's also been debunked for ages. One of the best examples of this is from G. K. Chesterton's The Everlasting Man, back in 1925, the book that converted C.S. Lewis from atheism to Christianity. While older sources could certainly be found, I like how beautifully Chesterton sets up the anti-Christian argument, only to knock it down. First, let's see him set it up:

The Emperor Constantine
Take another rationalistic explanation of the rise of Christendom. It is common enough to find another critic saying, ‘Christianity did not really rise at all; that is, it did not merely rise from below; it was imposed from above. It is an example of the power of the executive, especially in despotic states. The Empire was really an Empire; that is, it was really ruled by the Emperor. One of the Emperors happened to become a Christian. He might just have well have become a Mithraist or a Jew or a Fire-Worshipper; it was common in the decline of the Empire for eminent and educated people to adopt these eccentric eastern cults. But when he adopted it it became the official religion of the Roman Empire, it became as strong, as universal and as invincible as the Rome Empire. It has only remained in the world as a relic of that Empire; or, as many have put it, it is but the ghost of Caesar still hovering over Rome.’

This is no straw man. This is actually better than the argument that the commenter raised against Fr. Longenecker. And here's how Chesterton answers it:

This is a very ordinary line taken in the criticism of orthodoxy, to say that it was only officialdoms that ever made it orthodoxy. And here again we can call on the heretics to refute it.

Emperor Constantius II (an Arian)
The whole great history of the Arian heresy might have been invented to explode this idea. It is a very interesting history often repeated in this connection: and the upshot of it is in so far as there ever was a merely official religion, it actually died because it was merely an official religion; and what destroyed it was the real religion. Arius advanced a version of Christianity which moved, more or less vaguely, in the direction of what we should call Unitarianism; though it was not the same, for it gave to Christ a curious intermediary position between the divine and human.

The point is that it seemed to many more reasonable and less fanatical; and among these were many of the educated class in a sort of reaction against the first romance of conversion. Arians were a sort of moderates and a sort of modernists. And it was felt that after the first squabbles this was the final form of rationalized religion into which civilization might well settle down. It was accepted by Divine Caesar himself and became the official orthodoxy; the generals and military princes drawn from the new barbarian powers of the north, full of the future, supported it strongly.

The Emperor Julian (the Apostate)
But the sequel is still more important. Exactly as a modern man might pass through Unitarianism to complete agnosticism, so the greatest of the Arian emperors ultimately shed the last and thinnest pretense of Christianity; he abandoned even Arius and returned to Apollo. He was a Caesar of the Caesars; a soldier, a scholar, a man of large ambitions and ideals; another of the philosopher kings. It seemed to him as if at his signal the sun rose again. The oracles began to speak like birds beginning to sing at dawn; paganism was itself again; the gods returned. It seemed the end of that strange interlude of an alien superstition. And indeed it was the end of it, so far as there was a mere interlude of mere superstition. It was the end of it, in so far as it was the fad of an emperor or the fashion of a generation. If there really was something that began with Constantine, then it ended with Julian.

But there was something that did not end. There had arisen in that hour of history, defiant above the democratic tumult of the Councils of the Church, Athanasius against the world. We may pause upon the point at issue, because it is relevant to the whole of this religious history, and the modern world seems to miss the whole point of it. We might put it this way. If there is one question which the enlightened and liberal have the habit of deriding and holding up as a dreadful example of barren dogma and senseless strife, it is this Athanasian question of the co-Eternity of the Divine Son. On other hand, if there is one thing that the same liberals will always offer us as a piece of pure and simple Christianity, untroubled by doctrinal disputes, it is the single sentence, ‘God is Love!’

St. Athanasius
Yet the two statements are almost identical; at least one is very nearly nonsense without the other. The barren dogma is only the logical way of stating the beautiful sentiment. For if there be a being without beginning, existing before all things, was He loving when there was nothing to be loved? If through that unthinkable eternity He is lonely, what is the meaning of saying He is love? The only justification of such a mystery is the mystical conception that in His own nature there was something analogous to self-expression; something of what begets and beholds what it has begotten. Without some such idea, it is really illogical to complicate the ultimate essence of deity with an idea like love. If the modems really want a simple religion of love, they must look for it in the Athanasian Creed.

The truth is that the trumpet of true Christianity, the challenge of the charities and simplicities of Bethlehem or Christmas Day, never rang out more arrestingly and unmistakably than in the defiance of Athanasius to the cold compromise of the Arians. It was emphatically he who really was fighting for a God of Love against a God of colorless and remote cosmic control; the God of the stoics and the agnostics. It was emphatically he who was fighting for the Holy Child against the grey deity of the Pharisees and the Sadducees. He was fighting for that very balance of beautiful interdependence and intimacy, in the very Trinity of the Divine Nature, that draws our hearts to the Trinity of the Holy Family. His dogma, if the phrase be not misunderstood, turns even God into a Holy Family.

That this purely Christian dogma actually for a second time rebelled against the Empire, and actually for a second time re-founded the Church in spite of the Empire, is itself a proof that there was something positive and personal working in the world, other than whatever official faith the Empire chose to adopt. This power utterly destroyed the official faith that the Empire did adopt. It went on its own way as it is going on its own way still. There are any number of other examples in which is repeated precisely the same process we have reviewed in the case of the Manichean and the Arian.

Andrea Previtali, Salvator Mundi (1519)

So the commenter's claim is ironic precisely because if history were left to one group of powerful men ousting the other, Catholicism would have had no chance against Arianism. Arianism was massively powerful: at least two Roman Emperors (Constantius II and Valens) were Arian, and they, along with Julian the Apostate, sought to crush Catholicism. That Catholicism prevailed can't be attributed to Her superior political strength, since She had none. Instead, Chesterton offers two answers, both of which I think are correct: (1) Catholicism was true, and Her Trinitarian doctrines better accounted for the claims about God found in Scripture (in passages like 1 John 4:8); and (2) Catholicism was Divinely protected.

I realize that in writing that last point, in saying that “Catholicism was Divinely protected” instead of that “Trinitarianism was Divinely protected,” some readers will object. But I stand by the wording. I don't see room to coherently argue that God intervened in the fourth century to prevent the extinction of orthodox Christianity against the crushing power of the Roman state, then let it slide into extinction, only to be resurrected by a German monk, or a French lawyer, or an American teenager.

So Chesterton's not just showing the truth of the Athanasian Creed, or Trinitarianism, or the Co-Eternity of the Son, but of Catholicism in all Her brilliance. Of course, in doing so, he put to rest the tired canard that Catholicism succeeded because She had more earthly power. At the point in history we're talking about, nothing could be further from the truth.

Understanding Christ's Humanity and Divinity

2012-01-02T17:40:00.003-05:00

Christ Pantocrator (from the Hagia Sophia)

A couple days ago, I was asked:

If Jesus Christ is both fully human and fully God, was He human before the Incarnation?

If He wasn't, why would the Nestorian position be heretical, since Christ is fully divine and His humanity was only a later addition?

And if He was, would that mean that humanity, as it existed in the form of Christ, has been there from the beginning of time?

The short answer is that Jesus was not human before the Incarnation, and that Nestorianism is wrong for rejecting the Hypostatic Union. So let's address the Catholic position, and then compare it with the early heresies.

The Hypostatic Union: The Catholic Position

Luca Di Tommè, Adoration of the Magi (c. 1365)

Yesterday, the Antiphon for Lauds put it like this:

Marvelous is the mystery proclaimed today: man’s nature is made new as God becomes man; he remains what he was and becomes what he was not. Yet each nature stays distinct and for ever undivided.

That's the Hypostatic Union in a nutshell. The Second Person of the Trinity, the Divine Logos, was (and is) God from all eternity. In the Incarnation, He entered space and time as Jesus of Nazareth. While preserving His Divinity whole and intact, He humbled Himself by taking on our humanity. This meant creating a human body and also a human soul for Himself. Jesus wasn't simply a mask the Logos wore, or an avatar, or anything of the sort. Rather, the Man Jesus is the Second Person of the Trinity, and vice versa. The Second Person of the Trinity united His human soul perfectly to His Divine Self. In doing so, He bridged the gulf created by sin between God and man. This is one of the reasons that we refer to Jesus by the titles “Son of Man” and “Son of God” without any tension: He’s the perfect God-Man (see Matthew 26:63-64, in which the two titles are used interchangably).

The Heresies: Nestorianism and Monophysitism

Compare what Catholicism teaches on Christology, compared with two popular fifth century heresies, Nestorianism and Monophysitism:

Catholicism	Two Natures	One Person
Nestorianism	Two Natures	Two Persons
Monophysitism	One Nature	One Person

There were the more moderate versions of two other heresies: Docetism, which said that Jesus only appeared to be human, and its antithesis, Adoptionism, which said Jesus was only a man prior to His Baptism.

Nestorianism and Monophysitism were both half-right, but the parts they got wrong were incredibly problematic. Nestorianism acknowledged that Christ had both human and Divine natures, but claimed that these natures weren't united in a single Person. Instead, Christ was a Being consisting of a human person and a Divine Person. In other words, this view taught that Jesus, the Man, wasn't the Second Person of the Trinity. As a result, Nestorius refused to call Mary Theotokos (God-bearer), calling her instead Christotokos (Christ-bearer). Thus, we see many of the same problems as in Adoptionism -- that Jesus isn't to be the object of our worship. But since Jesus is worshiped in Scripture (John 20:28), this view is clearly wrong.

Paolo Veronese, Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane (1584)

Just as Nestorianism is a moderate (but still incorrect) form of Adoptionism, Monophysitism is a moderate (but still incorrect) form of Docetism. Monophysitism recognized that Jesus is the Second Person of the Trinity, but as a result, denied that He had both a human and Divine will. But we see Christ subordinate His human will to the Father (John 14:28; Luke 22:42), so this is clearly wrong, too.

Here's the thing about the Hypostatic Union: like the Trinity, it seems needlessly complex; like the Trinity, it's a pretty counter-intuitive theological claim; but like the Trinity, it explains the Scriptural evidence better than all of the (much simpler) heresies. Sometimes, the truth is just more complicated than fiction, and we shouldn't be surprised that describing God is one of those times, whether we're talking about the Three Persons of the Trinity, or the Dual Natures of Christ.

The Aftermath

Nestorianism was condemned at the First Council of Ephesus in 431, while both Nestorianism and Monophysitism were condemned at the Council of Chalcedon in 451. A few men stand out as strong defenders of the faith in the face of Nestorianism and Monophysitism. One of those was Pope Leo. From Session V of the Council of Chalcedon:

The most blessed bishops of Illyria said: Let those who contradict be made manifest. Those who contradict are Nestorians. Those who contradict, let them go to Rome.

The most magnificent and most glorious judges said: Dioscorus acknowledged that he accepted the expression of two natures, but not that there were two natures. But the most holy archbishop Leo says that there are two natures in Christ unchangeably, inseparably, unconfusedly united in the one only-begotten Son our Saviour. Which would you follow, the most holy Leo or Dioscorus?

The most reverend bishops cried out: We believe as Leo. Those who contradict are Eutychians. Leo has rightly expounded the faith.

The most magnificent and glorious judges said: Add then to the definition, according to the judgment of our most holy father Leo, that there are two natures in Christ united unchangeably, inseparably, unconfusedly.

Leo stood in a long line of saintly defenders of orthodoxy. A century earlier, the battle had been on somewhat different turf: whether Jesus was God, or simply God-like. Catholicism was defended in that earlier fight by St. Athanasius, as well as two Saints whose Feast Day we celebrate today: St. Basil the Great and St. Gregory Nazianzen.

Let this be a reminder that orthodox Catholicism has always been attacked, often by pretty convincing sounding heresies (both Nestorianism and Monophysitism could marshal Scriptural support, for example). But it's important to remember that Catholicism always wins out in the end. Today, even those churches that have been historically Nestorian (the Assyrian Church of the East) or Monophysite (the Oriental Orthodox Churches) have distanced themselves from their Non-Chalcedonian origins. History should thus lead us to be both vigilant and hopeful.

Was Mary Saved?

2011-12-30T12:45:00.000-05:00

A Protestant friend of mine related his struggle with the Catholic view of Mary's sinlessless, because Mary herself expressed that she needed a Savior, in Luke 1:46-47, when she proclaimed at the start of the Magnificat, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.”

I think that there's a simple response to this, which we find in Psalm 30:3, in which David proclaims, “You, LORD, brought me up from the realm of the dead; You spared me from going down to the pit.” In that verse, David describes two different forms of salvation: God saves him from “the realm of the dead” by taking him out once he's already in there. But He saved him from “the pit” by preventing him from going in the first place.

Think of sin as a mud puddle. The usual way that we talk and think about God's salvation is the first way: He washes us free from the mud we're caked in. But He can also save by keeping us from sinning in the first place. If He couldn't, we wouldn't pray, “lead us not into temptation” in the Our Father.

Of the two forms of salvation, which is more perfect? The answer is obvious: it is more perfect to be saved from falling into sin then it is to be permitted to fall in, and repaired afterwards. So, for example, in Psalm 22:21, when we hear the Psalmist cry, “Save me from the mouth of the lion,” there are two ways that God could answer this cry: by taking him out of the lion's mouth, or by preventing him from being ensnared at all. Both forms are salvation, but the second is the more perfect salvation. So yes, Mary is saved in the Catholic view. And in fact, she's saved more perfectly than anyone else, because she's saved even from the temporary pain and self-damage of a life of sin.

To understand the majesty and the power of the Redemption, look at the lives of two people: Mary and St. Paul. In someone like Paul, we see the depth of the forgiveness of the Redemption: he killed Christians, but was brought out of his grave sins by the love of Christ, and forgiven a large debt (Luke 7:47). This shows us that how low the Lord can reach to pull us out of sin. In someone like Mary, we see the beauty of a life without any sin, venial or mortal, original or actual. Remember, this is the way mankind was intended to live from the beginning, in God's Sovereign design. This is how He originally made Adam and Eve. And this is the life we'll live in Heaven. So if Paul shows how low God can reach to save us, Mary shows how high He can elevate us.

Happy Feast of the Holy Family!

The Massacre of the Innocents and the Historicity of the Gospels

2011-12-28T18:47:00.001-05:00

The first few days after Christmas Day are a surprisingly bloody affair. On December 26, we celebrated the Feast Day of St. Stephen, sometimes called “the protomartyr,” since he is the first Christian after the Resurrection to be martyred for the faith. Today, we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Innocents, which commemorates Herod's massacre of the children in the Bethlehem area.

Guido Reni, Massacre of the Innocents (1611)

The Biblical basis comes from Matthew 2:13-18, from sometime after the Magi visit Christ:

When the magi had departed, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, "Rise, take the child and his mother, flee to Egypt, and stay there until I tell you. Herod is going to search for the child to destroy him." Joseph rose and took the child and his mother by night and departed for Egypt. He stayed there until the death of Herod, that what the Lord had said through the prophet might be fulfilled, Out of Egypt I called my son.

When Herod realized that he had been deceived by the magi, he became furious. He ordered the massacre of all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had ascertained from the magi. Then was fulfilled what had been said through Jeremiah the prophet: A voice was heard in Ramah, sobbing and loud lamentation; Rachel weeping for her children, and she would not be consoled, since they were no more.

The Infancy narratives found in Matthew and Luke's Gospels are some of the most often-attacked portions of the New Testament, on the basis of their alleged historical unreliability. For example, James Martin, S.J., recently wrote:

The two Gospels that do mention what theologians call the "infancy narratives" differ on some significant details. Matthew seems to describe Mary and Joseph as living in Bethlehem, fleeing to Egypt and then moving to Nazareth. The Gospel of Luke, on the other hand, has the two originally living in Nazareth, traveling to Bethlehem in time for the birth and then returning home. Both Gospels, though, place Jesus' birthplace in Bethlehem.

It's true that Matthew and Luke both include details that the other omits, and that this can create problems in trying to construct an accurate timeline. Of course, this is true throughout the Gospels. After all, the whole point of having four different Gospel accounts is that each includes details the others omit (a Gospel that didn't do this would be merely repetitive). But both Matthew and Luke's Infancy narratives include details that some scholars are calling foul about.

With Luke, the biggest problem raised is the timing of the Census mentioned in Luke 2:2 -- which I've addressed before. With Matthew's Gospel, the biggest historical problem is the Massacre of the Holy Innocents. Wouldn't something this horrendous warrant extensive attention from both Christian and pagan sources? Shouldn't we expect to see a lot written about this?

No, actually. This is a massacre of children in a tiny rural area on the periphery of the Roman Empire, a sadly frequent occurrence (even today). The number of children killed may have been rather small in the scheme of things, perhaps a few dozen. And from a Christian perspective, the Massacre of Holy Innocents was likely omitted by many accounts because it's tangential to the story of Who Jesus is, and why it's important to believe in Him. At the least, this is why it doesn't come up often amongst Christians today, and there's little reason to think early Christians would be different on this count.

In any event, the question can be turned on its head. St. Matthew's Gospel is written during the mid-first century, and it describes this massacre. If such an event hadn't occurred, wouldn't we expect to hear an objection on that basis? A man from Bethlehem of the right age would have been all that it would take to invalidate the historicity of the Gospel.

So even if the extra-Biblical testimony was totally silent, that wouldn't be particularly surprising. But we actually do hear about the Massacre, and from a surprising source: Macrobius Ambrosius Theodosius, a pagan Roman praetorian writing in the early 400s. He mentioned in his Saturnalia that “On hearing that the son of Herod, king of the Jews, had been slain when Herod ordered that all boys in Syria under the age of two be killed, Augustus said, ‘It is better to be Herod’s pig than his son.’”

Now, Macrobius gets certain historical details mixed up (Herod killed more than one son, but as far as we know, not during the Massacre; and the Massacre occurred in Judea, not Syria), but it's clear that the Massacre is something he's familiar with even as a pagan, and that it contributed to Herod's reputation as being particularly blood-thirsty. And of course, the fact that Herod killed one of his wives and more than one son to avoid claimants to the throne makes it clear that he certainly was the type willing to murder some poor people's children to avoid the prophesied Messiah-King of the Jews.

With Macrobius' account, we find extra-Scriptural (and non-Christian) support for even the most seemingly-incredible detail: that Herod massacred a number of infants in an effort to find and kill the prophesied Messiah-King. And as Matthew notes, this Massacre was foretold in the Book of Jeremiah. It's also prefigured in the massacre of the innocents described in Exodus 1:15-17, occurring at the time of the birth of Moses. All of this points to the fact that the Bible is both historical and prophetic.

Why Celebrate Christ's Birth, Instead of His Conception?

2011-12-27T17:38:00.004-05:00

Since life begins at conception, why do we focus on celebrating the Birth of Christ, rather than His Conception? After all, from a Catholic perspective, the Incarnation really occurs about nine months prior to Christmas. Indeed, pro-life movements around the world have begun using March 25 as a day celebrating the life of the unborn, during the Feast of the Annunciation, nine months before Christmas. And why do we pro-lifers throw birthday parties, instead of conception-day parties? Why do we speak of being born again? Why measure our ages from the date of our birth, instead of conception?

I. The Conception and Birth of Christ

Agnolo Bronzino, Adoration of the Shepherds (c. 1538) (detail)

LifeSiteNews has a great article fittingly called, “If life begins at conception, why wouldn’t we celebrate the Incarnation instead of Christmas?” That's a rather reasonable question, and LSN does a good job answering it:

To be sure, the Incarnation is celebrated in many churches, including the Roman Catholic Church and the Eastern rites, on March 25th, quite appropriately nine months ahead of Christmas. But while the Incarnation (also known as the Annunciation) is observed in such cases as a great feast, it’s certainly not afforded the solemnity and pomp of Christmas.

And that’s the way it should be, I’d say.

Conception is hidden, private, intimate. When a couple realizes they have conceived a child, they are naturally filled with joy, but that joy is held between them.

As they reveal the happy news to family and friends, or the child makes herself known by the mother’s blossoming belly, the child’s presence is revealed more and more until she is ready to declare herself to the world.

While our joy at the conception of a child is often no less than at her birth, it is usually less conscious. It takes time for this amazing gift to strike us.

So, quite naturally, we reserve our greatest celebrations for the child’s birth.

Georges de la Tour, Adoration of the Shepherds (1644)

This is a very good answer, and one which finds plenty of support in early Christian writings. For example, St. Fulgentius of Ruspe described Christmas as the day that “our King, clothed in His robe of flesh, left His place in the virgin’s womb and graciously visited the world.” This description makes it clear that Christ was very much alive in the womb before Christmas, but that He wasn't really in the world yet.

Likewise, Scripture puts a strong emphasis on the circumstances of the birth of Christ (Lk. 2:1-20), while we know basically nothing about the time and place of His conception (Gabriel prophesies it in Lk. 1:35, but we don't even know how quickly that prophesy came true). Nevertheless, Scripture is quite clear that Christ is alive prior to His birth (as well as John the Baptist: see Lk. 1:39-45, and here).

II. Was Christ Eternally Begotten?

There's a great parallel to all of this in a dispute from the early Church. The Arians denied that God the Son was eternally begotten of the Father. Instead, they claimed that Christ became the Son at His Baptism, and pointed to passages like Psalm 2:7, Acts 13:33, Heb. 1:5, and Heb. 5:5 for support. This heresy has had a resurgence amongst some Evangelicals; even John Armstrong used to teach it.

1st Council of Nicea - Arius is in brown

This heresy may seem like a minor quibble, but it's not. If Jesus wasn't always the Son of God, then the core teaching of orthodox Christianity, the Trinity, is wrong. But the Arians were wrong, and the First Council of Nicea (325 A.D.) condemned them for it. The First Council of Constantinople (381 A.D.) built on Nicea by adding a phrase to the Nicene Creed explaining that Christ is eternally-begotten, or “begotten of the Father before all worlds.” (For good measure, jolly old St. Nicholas actually slapped Arius in the face for denying the Divinity of Christ).

The reason that we can say that the Arians were heretics is that well before His Baptism, Christ affirms His unique Sonship; this is clearest in Luke 2:49, in which a young Jesus speaks of going about His Father's business. This is about two decades before His Baptism, yet He's already the Son of the Father in a unique way. Indeed, throughout every statement He ever makes about the Father, Jesus calls the Father “My Father” or “your Father,” but never “Our Father,” to make clear to us that He's the Son of the Father in a way that we aren't (see, e.g., John 20:17). We're adopted as sons and daughters of God (Romans 8:17), but Christ is the Only-Begotten (John 3:16)

And St. John begins His Gospel with this beautiful insight into the Trinity, and particularly of the relationship between the Father and the Son (John 1:1-3):

Andrea del Verrocchio, Baptism of Christ (1475)
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being.

So Jesus doesn't become the Son of God at His Baptism, or even at His Birth. He's the Son of God for all eternity, from “the beginning,” which is why God can speak of Himself in plural form clear back in Genesis 1:26.

So what's going on with those passages which would seem to suggest He was begotten at His Baptism? At His Baptism, what was hidden to the world (that the Son of God was among them) was made visible: that's the sense in which Hebrews and Acts say that Jesus is “begotten” at His Baptism. But He was the Son of God before this, from all eternity. Likewise, Christmas celebrates the point at which what was hidden to the world (that the Son of Mary was among us) was made visible. But Jesus was the Son of Mary before this, from about nine months earlier.

So just as we might say that Jesus was twelve years old when He went up to the Temple (Luke 2:42), measured from His birth, without literally suggesting that He didn't exist prior to His birth, we see something similar in the way Scripture speaks of His Baptism.

Conclusion

The image that I think captures this well is of a gift under a Christmas tree. The gift is already there, and if you receive it in the mail, you already own that gift prior to unwrapping it. But the celebration is of the moment that you unwrap it, and encounter it in a certain way for the first time.

Certain things are totally private, and conception is one of them (even parents don't know the exact moment of conception -- there's something mysterious and beautiful about the fact that it's known to God alone). We may get excited at seeing the wrapped presents placed under the tree, knowing what they herald. But we quite reasonably celebrate the point at which the presents are unwrapped, and we come face to face with the Gift.

Day 7: O Emmanuel

2011-12-23T21:00:00.018-05:00

Tonight's O Antiphon is the last one, and it's the most famous and probably the most beautiful. It's “O Emmanuel.” The name Emmanuel.means “God with us,” and it's taken from Isaiah 7:13-14, in which Isaiah says,

“Hear now, you house of David! Is it not enough to try the patience of humans? Will you try the patience of my God also? Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel.”

The most incredible insight to the name (and title) Emmanuel was one I discovered last year. Here's what I wrote on it last Christmas:

Emmanuel is unique, in that it is prophetic, in a way, of the name of Christ. Erasmo Leiva-Merikakis, in Volume 1 of Fire of Mercy, Heart of the Word (a particularly fitting book to quote from, since I started reading it after getting it for my dad for Christmas), spoke about the radical significance behind Matthew's translation in Matthew 1:24 of Emmanuel from Hebrew, the language the Jews considered sacred, to Greek, the language of the Gentiles and the world. He sees in this translation a parallel between the Old and New Covenant, and how God is viewed under each. From there, he says:

“On the subject of Jesus as "translator" of God, Fray Luis de Leon, the Spanish Dominican who was also a great writer, has left us an unforgettable formulation in his treatise on The Names of Christ. He says that the sacred Name of God in the Old Testament, יהוה, the unpronounceable tetragrammaton, is found again in the Hebrew name of Jesus, ישוע, with the addition of the radicals from the verb "to save" and the vowels necessary to pronounce the divine Name. In this way, while the Name of God is so holy, mysterious, and pure that it cannot be pronounced by a human mouth, the addition of Christ's divine will to save mankind "translates," that is, transfers, the sanctity of God to our level as creatures and at last makes it possible for us, too, to pronounce God's true Name, which cannot be any other than Jesus, and thus be saved, All else that we subsequently come to know about God rests on this primary revelation: He is the One who saves us in Jesus.”

It's an amazing insight. Now, go back to the prophesy in Isaiah 7:14. The name Emmanuel means "God with us," and the name Jesus explains how and why God is with us. That is, He's with us in the Person of Jesus Christ, and He's with us to save.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The traditional Latin Antiphon is:

O Emmanuel, Rex et legifer noster,expectratio gentium, et Salvator earum:veni ad salvandum nos,Domines, Deus noster.

Which means, in English:

O Emmanuel, our King and our Law-giver,
Longing of the Gentiles, yea, and salvation thereof,
Come to save us, O Lord our God!

It corresponds, of course, to the first verse of O Come, O Come, Emmanuel:

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,
and ransom captive Israel,
that mourns in lonely exile here
until the Son of God appear.

And the English version used in the Antiphon today:

O Emmanuel, king and lawgiver,
desire of the nations, Savior of all people:
Come and set us free, Lord our God.

And finally, here are the Dominican student brothers at Blackfriars in Oxford singing the Latin plainchant:

Is This the End of the Christmas Season, or the Beginning?

2011-12-23T12:02:00.002-05:00

Terry Mattingly of GetReligion has a great column about the “two Christmases.” As he notes, for the Church, the Christmas season runs from Christmas Day (December 25) to Epiphany (January 6). These are the famous Twelve Days of Christmas. But in secular society, the Christmas season runs from around Thanksgiving until December 25. So this Sunday marks either the end of the Christmas season (for secular culture), or the First Day of Christmas (for the Church).

It's an important difference, and one in which he notes many Christians tend to side with the world, rather than the Church:

“Unfortunately, most Americans -- especially evangelical Protestants -- have so distanced themselves from any awareness of the Christian calendar that their decisions about that kind of question have been handed over to the culture,” said the Rev. Russell D. Moore, dean of the theology school at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Ky.

Many evangelicals fear the “cold formalism” they associate with churches that follow the liturgical calendar, and the result, he said, is "no sense of what happens when in the Christian year, at all." Thus, instead of celebrating ancient feasts such as Epiphany, Pentecost and the Transfiguration, far too many American church calendars are limited to Christmas and Easter, along with cultural festivities such as Mother's Day, the Fourth of July, Halloween, Thanksgiving and the Super Bowl.

As the piece notes, this is particularly problematic for Evangelicals, but I think we Catholics can be guilty of this, too.

The Difference Between the Two Christmases

For the world, what we've just gone through was the Christmas season, and it's tied to (at best) being nice, and making time for family and friends, or (at worst) non-stop marketing, shopping, and fighting off loneliness and despair with a credit card.

It's fitting that this Sunday marks the end of the world's Christmas season, because this is the climax of their efforts. This is the day when we come together and share all of those presents, and where we take some time off of work to be with our families. Once the presents are opened, and our families have started to annoy us again, it's back to our ordinary routines. Santa Claus, the central figure of this Christmas, is already gone by Christmas morning.

But for the Church, this Sunday should mark a beginning, not an end. It marks Christ's Advent into the world where, for the first time, we could behold the Savior of the World in the Flesh, as the rich and the poor, the Magi and the shepherds alike, fall to their knees. The period we just went through wasn't the Christmas season, because Christ hadn't come yet. It was the Advent season, in which we've prepared for Christ's coming.

The Catechism explains that in Advent, the Church “makes present this ancient expectancy of the Messiah, for by sharing in the long preparation for the Savior's first coming, the faithful renew their ardent desire for his second coming.200 By celebrating the precursor's birth and martyrdom, the Church unites herself to his desire: 'He must increase, but I must decrease.'” Just as you tidy up for a party, and tidy up a lot for an important party, the birthday of Christ Himself, His Visit to each and every one of us, should motivate us to clean house. And cleaning house involves throwing out our old sins, and making space for Christ to come in.

With this view, Christ is Our Guest, and we want Him to stay with us forever. So Dec. 25 celebrates His arrival, and we savor this arrival in a special way for days, culminating on either January 6 (the traditional date of the Feast of the Epiphany), Epiphany Sunday (the nearest Sunday to January 6), or even Candlemas (February 2, for those cultures that really like Christmastime).

In a nutshell, here's what I'd say are the two most important differences between the liturgical calendar and the secular one:

One makes Christmas something we do for Christ, while the other makes it something He does for us. The world's version focuses on our efforts (our shopping, caroling, and the like), while the Church's version focuses on Christ's entry.
The world's view of the Christmas season is largely without Christ. That is, all but the last day are a celebration of something we're calling “Christmas,” without the Nativity. What exactly are we celebrating December 25 that's different than what we were celebrating, say, Dec. 20? By de-emphasizing the utter centrality of the Nativity to Christmas, the focus starts to come off of Christ. Whether it's shifted towards family or shopping, that shift's still a disaster.

As Mattingly notes, this has hit Evangelicals the hardest. With a cultural suspicion of Advent and the whole notion of “liturgical seasons, ” Evangelicals end up turning to the world for their seasons and holidays. The most shocking example (at least to me) was my discovery that when Christmas falls on a Sunday (as it does this year), many Evangelical churches simply cancel church services. David Gibson reports for the Wall Street Journal:

Nearly 10% of Protestant churches will be closed on Christmas Sunday this year, according to LifeWay Research, and most pastors who are opening up say they expect far fewer people than on other Sundays. Other reports suggest that churches across the board are scaling down their services in anticipation of fewer worshipers.

"We have to face the reality of families who don't want to struggle to get kids dressed and come to church," Brad Jernberg of Dallas's Cliff Temple Baptist Church told the Associated Baptist Press. Similarly, Beth Car Baptist Church in Halifax, Va., is planning a short service featuring bluegrass riffs on Christmas music. "I'll do a brief sermon, and then we're going home," said Pastor Mike Parnell.

I suppose that this avoids the risk that worshiping God would get in the way of the purpose of secular-Christmas... to be with your family.

The Real War on Christmas

The secular “Christmas” season is a time of strife, with the infamous “war on Christmas” specials that Fox runs annually. But the real “war on Christmas” that we should be worried about is the one I just described, the internal destruction of Christmas by Christians.

Let me give two examples of what I mean here. The first one comes via Matt Archibold, and is about a dispute over whether or not two bus drivers were allowed to decorate their buses with Christmas decorations. One of the bus drivers defended the decorations by saying, “This is totally not a religious thing. This is about Christmas.” Yikes. This should be a wake-up call for Christians who want Christmas to be, you know, about Christ. We should be uncomfortable with both sides of the “war on Christmas”: those who want Christmas stamped out of public life, and those who want Christmas hollowed out into something harmless to secularist bigots.

The second example is a more general one: the ongoing debate over whether we should say “Merry Christmas!” or “Happy Holidays!” Reality check : the word “holiday” is just a shortened form of “holy day.” Christmas is a holiday, Fourth of July is not (hopefully). But “holiday” has come to mean simply “vacation,” because that's how we treat our holidays. This is most obvious in the UK, where vacationing (anytime of year) is often described as “going on holiday.” But we Americans are guilty of it as well. If we weren't, we wouldn't be so upset about the phrase “Happy Holidays,” because it'd be a religious phrase. If “Happy Holidays” has been sterilized to the point that secularists have no trouble using it, well, that's partly our own fault.

Conclusion

So if this Sunday is to be an end, let it be an end to the secular celebration of “Christmastime” one and for all. Take this Christmas as an opportunity to start fresh by welcoming Christ as your Guest both for the day, and for the Christmas season, and forever.

Day 6: O Rex Gentium (O King of the Nations)

2011-12-22T21:00:00.005-05:00

Tonight's O Antiphon is “O Rex Gentium,” meaning “King of the Nations,” or “King of the Gentiles.” The idea is that the Messiah would be King, not only of the Jews, but the Gentiles as well: that is, of all nations. For example, Isaiah prophesied of the Christ (in Isa. 2:4),

“He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.”

And God says, in the Messianic prophesy in Isaiah 48:6,

“I will also make You a light of the nations
So that My salvation may reach to the end of the earth.”

This latter prophesy is explicitly applied to Christ by the priest Simeon in Luke 2:32. This fulfills a theme we see thought the Old Testament from Genesis onwards-- that the Jews are chosen as God's people not only for their own good, but for the good of the Gentiles as well, so that all nations can come to Christ (see, for example, Gen. 22:18). Christ clearly fulfills this by opening the covenant to the Gentiles, just as He promises throughout His earthly ministry (see, for example, John 10:16). And this mission of bringing all nations to Christ continues in the Church (Mt. 28:19-20).

St. Matthew notes of Christ that it's “in His name the Gentiles will hope,” and that this is in fulfillment of “what was spoken through Isaiah the prophet.” (Matthew 12:15-21, referring to Isaiah 42:1-4). And St. Paul talks about this repeatedly, particularly in his Letter to the Romans. One of the best explanations comes from Ephesians 2:16-18,

“And that he might reconcile both unto God in one body by the cross, having slain the enmity thereby: And came and preached peace to you which were afar off, and to them that were nigh.
For through him we both have access by one Spirit unto the Father.”

So, ironically, it's right here on the Cross, with a plaque reading “Jesus Christ, King of the Jews” above Him (John 19:20), that the doors of the Church were opened to the Gentiles in a radical way.

The traditional Latin Antiphon is:

O Rex Gentium, et desideratus earum,
lapisque angularis, qui facis utraque unum:
veni, et salva hominem,
quem de limo formasti.

Which means, in English:

O King of the Gentiles, yea, and desire thereof!
O Corner-stone, that makest of two one,
Come to save man,
whom Thou hast made out of the dust of the earth!

It corresponds to the final verse from O Come, O Come Emmanuel:

O Come, Desire of the nations, bind
in one the hearts of all mankind;
bid every strife and quarrel cease
and fill the world with heaven's peace.

And the English version used in the Antiphon today:

O King of all the nations, the only joy of every human heart;
O Keystone of the mighty arch of man:
Come and save the creature you fashioned from the dust.

And finally, here are the Dominican student brothers at Blackfriars in Oxford singing the Latin plainchant:

Occupy Occupy?

2011-12-22T09:05:00.062-05:00

I don't understand why I haven't seen this suggested as a political movement yet: why don't the people who dislike Occupy D.C. simply occupy the “occupation”? That is, just go down to the protest, and occupy tents while their owners are out. When they come back and demand their tent back, declare that property is theft!

I'm not seriously advocating it, of course, I just think it'd be funny as something akin to performance art. And I'm also genuinely curious about how the average Occupier would respond to their tent being infringed upon in this way. Complain that you've illegally infringed upon their rights to private possession of property? Notify the police that you're sleeping where you're not supposed to? I can only imagine that the police would enjoy the irony of someone trying to evict a trespasser from their illegal encampment.

Then again, this is only funny if you expect the Occupiers to be consistent in any shape or form. While I appreciate the economic grievances that the Occupiers are venting, one thing I've learned from walking past (or through) McPherson Square every weekday for the last few months, it's that there are a lot of views being represented there, many of which seem wildly inconsistent with one another. For example, here's the anarchist flag they have flying over the camp:

And here's the sign proclaiming that “Islam is the Way” sign that was, for a long time, the only sign visible from the western edge of the encampment:

If you don't get why that's funny, there's an old Islamic proverb, “Better sixty years of tyranny than a single night of anarchy.” So maybe intellectual consistency isn't the strong-suit of the Occupiers.

Day 5: O Oriens (O Rising Sun)

2011-12-21T21:00:00.030-05:00

Tonight's O Antiphon is “O Oriens.” The Latin word “Oriens” literally means “Dawn,” “Rising Sun,” or “East.” The “O Oriens” prophesy comes from Isaiah 9:1-7,

Holman Hunt,
Christ the Light of the World (1854)
But there will be no gloom for her that was in anguish. In the former time he brought into contempt the land of Zeb'ulun and the land of Naph'tali, but in the latter time he will make glorious the way of the sea, the land beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the nations.

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined.

Thou hast multiplied the nation, thou hast increased its joy; they rejoice before thee as with joy at the harvest, as men rejoice when they divide the spoil.
For the yoke of his burden, and the staff for his shoulder, the rod of his oppressor, thou hast broken as on the day of Mid'ian.
For every boot of the tramping warrior in battle tumult and every garment rolled in blood will be burned as fuel for the fire.

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government will be upon his shoulder, and his name will be called “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”

Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, upon the throne of David, and over his kingdom, to establish it, and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and for evermore. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this.

So the coming Messiah will arrive as a Child, will be associated with Galilee, and His Advent will be like the dawn breaking forth. And this, of course, is exactly how the New Testament describes Christ. Zechariah prophesies that his son, John the Baptist, will be a forerunner for the Messiah, proclaiming (Luke 1:76-79),

“And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people in the forgiveness of their sins, through the tender mercy of our God, when the day shall dawn upon us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

And St. John's Gospel is quite clear on this identification of Christ (John 1:5-9):

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came for testimony, to bear witness to the light, that all might believe through him. He was not the light, but came to bear witness to the light. The true light that enlightens every man was coming into the world.

But the clearest identification with Isaiah 9 is when Matthew explicitly tells us that Christ fulfills this prophesy (Mt. 4:12-16):

Now when he heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew into Galilee; and leaving Nazareth he went and dwelt in Caper'na-um by the sea, in the territory of Zeb'ulun and Naph'tali, that what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled: “The land of Zeb'ulun and the land of Naph'tali, toward the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles -- the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.”

By the way, this depiction of Christ as Oriens is also why Catholic churches historically face east: ad orientum. It's from building churches to face towards the East, towards the Oriens, that we get the word “orientation.”

The traditional Latin Antiphon is:

O Oriens, splendor lucis aeternae,
et sol justitiae:
veni, et illumina sedentes in tenebris,
et umbra mortis.

Which means, in English:

O Dayspring, Brightness of the everlasting light,
Son of justice,
Come to give light to them that sit in darkness,
and in the shadow of death!

It corresponds to the sixth verse from O Come, O Come Emmanuel:

O Come, Thou Dayspring from on high,
and cheer us by thy drawing nigh;
disperse the gloomy clouds of night
and death's dark shadow put to flight.

And the English version used in the Antiphon today:

O Radiant Dawn, splendor of eternal light, sun of justice:
Come, shine on those who dwell in darkness
and the shadow of death.

And finally, here are the Dominican student brothers at Blackfriars in Oxford singing the Latin plainchant:

The Catholic Connection to Hanukkah

2011-12-21T09:33:00.021-05:00

Last night marked the first night of the Jewish holiday of Hanukkah (or Chanukah). What you may not know is the connection between Hanukkah and Catholicism. Namely, the festival of lights celebrates the events of 1 and 2 Maccabees, which Catholics and Orthodox consider Scripture, but Protestants and Jews don't. I'll let Professor Jon Levenson, professor of Jewish studies at Harvard Divinity School, do the explaining:

The Roman Catholic tradition honors these Jewish martyrs as saints, and the Eastern Orthodox Church still celebrates Aug. 1 as the Feast of the Holy Maccabees. By contrast, in the literature of the Rabbis of the first several centuries of the common era, the story lost its connection to the Maccabean uprising, instead becoming associated with later persecutions by the Romans, which the Rabbis experienced. If the change seems odd, recall that the compositions that first told of these events (the books of Maccabees) were not part of the scriptural canon of rabbinic Judaism. But they were canonical in the Church (and remain so in the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox communions).

And so we encounter another oddity of Hanukkah: Jews know the fuller history of the holiday because Christians preserved the books that the Jews themselves lost. In a further twist, Jews in the Middle Ages encountered the story of the martyred mother and her seven sons anew in Christian literature and once again placed it in the time of the Maccabees.

Fascinating stuff. Even more fascinating is the fact that Jesus celebrated Hanukkah (John 10:22). As I've argued before, this is a good reason to view 1 and 2 Maccabees as Scripture, since it's the only potential Scriptural source for the festival.

Day 4: O Clavis David (O Key of David)

2011-12-20T21:00:00.037-05:00

Tonight's O Antiphon is “O Clavis David,” which means “O Key of David.” It's a reference to Isaiah 22:19-23, and the rise and fall of a man named Eliakim. In this passage, God removes Shebna from his position of power as Master of the Palace, replacing him with Eliakim:

Peter Paul Reubens, St. Peter (1612)
I will thrust you from your office, and you will be cast down from your station. In that day I will call my servant Eli'akim the son of Hilki'ah, and I will clothe him with your robe, and will bind your girdle on him, and will commit your authority to his hand; and he shall be a father to the inhabitants of Jerusalem and to the house of Judah.

And I will place on his shoulder the key of the house of David; he shall open, and none shall shut; and he shall shut, and none shall open. And I will fasten him like a peg in a sure place, and he will become a throne of honor to his father's house."

What an amazing prophesy! There are two images here: the Key of David, which refers to authority over the House of Israel, and the Peg, which refers to Eliakim's longevity. And it's to a man named Eliakim, whose very name means “God will raise up.” How fitting, right? Well, let's read the next thing that He prophesies (Isaiah 22:24-25):

And they will hang on him the whole weight of his father's house, the offspring and issue, every small vessel, from the cups to all the flagons. In that day, says the LORD of hosts, the peg that was fastened in a sure place will give way; and it will be cut down and fall, and the burden that was upon it will be cut off, for the LORD has spoken.

Wow. The radical juxtaposition of these two prophesies should leave us a bit unsettled. God is choosing to empower Eliakim, despite knowing that Eliakim will ultimately disappoint Him, and will be set aside. The pressures of the office will eventually prove to be too much for him, and Eliakim's glory will fade.

This seems pretty bleak. I'm reminded of three things:

First, of Percy Blythe Shell's sonnet Ozymandias. The poem tells of a traveler discovering a plaque reading, "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings :Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!" But he finds the plaque within the midst of a colossal wreck. All that's left of Ozymandias' empire is ruins.
Second, of modern politics. We Americans cast our hopes onto the latest politician, only to find them burn out in disgrace, unable to shoulder the burdens of success. We hurry to place a key on the next man's shoulder, only to watch him crumple from the weight.
Finally, of The Myth of Sisyphus. Albert Camus, the atheistic French existentialist, declared life to be meaningless. He compared it to the Greek myth of Sisyphus, who was cursed by the gods to continually push a boulder up a mountain. Yet every time he made it to the top of the hill, the boulder would roll back down, and he'd have to start over. That, to Camus, was life. A constant and meaningless struggle.

As I said, all of this seems intensely dark. God permits men to rise and fall, and we're left wondering at the meaning. But this apparent meaningless isn't the final word. Christ is.

Lorenzo Veneziano,
Christ Giving the Keys to St Peter (1370)

When Christ enters the picture, we see the Key of David finally enter into safe hands, of the One who won't “be cut down and fall,” as Eliakim was. Israel will no longer be left to the whims of the ambitious, but will be governed by the eternal God. And He puts in place an Apostle, St. Peter, giving him the keys (Mt. 16:18-19):

And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.”

So the Keys, the very symbol of authority, were handed to the first pope, Peter. But what makes this so radically different from the time of Eliakim is that instead of prophesying Peter's downfall, He declares that “the gates of Hades will not overcome.” While Israel was tossed back and forth, the Church is built upon Rock.

And why won't the Gates of Hell overcome? Because while Christ gives Peter the Keys, He doesn't lose them Himself. In other words, Jesus doesn't become any less God because He entrusts Peter with authority. Peter's not stealing Christ's power. Christ is working through Peter. We see this from the Book of Revelation, which clearly shows us that Christ hasn't lost His Authority. In the Book of Revelation, Christ presents Himself this way: as “He who is holy, who is true, who has the key of David, who opens and no one will shut, and who shuts and no one opens” (Rev. 3:7), and declares, “I am the Living One; I was dead, and now look, I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades.” (Rev. 1:7) As He promises the Apostles: “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Mt. 28:20). Empires rise and fall, but the Church stays on forever, because Christ is King. This is why participation in the life of the Church is a participation in the eternal Kingdom of God. And it's one more reason to be thankful for Christmas, the birth of Our King.

The traditional Latin Antiphon is:

O Clavis David, et sceptrum domus Israel,
qui aperis, et nemo claudit; claudis, et nemo aperuit:
veni, et educ vinctum de domo carceris,
sedentem in tenebris, et umbra mortis.

Which means, in English:

O Key of David, and Sceptre of the House of Israel,
That openeth and no man shutteth, and shutteth and no man openeth,
Come to liberate the prisoner from the prison,
and them that sit in darkness, and in the shadow of death.

It corresponds to the fifth verse from O Come, O Come Emmanuel:

O Come, Thou Key of David, come,
and open wide our heav'nly home,
make safe the way that leads on high,
that we no more have cause to sigh.

And the English version used in the Antiphon today:

O Key of David, O royal Power of Israel,
controlling at your will the gate of heaven:
Come, break down the prison walls of death
for those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death;
and lead your captive people into freedom.

And finally, here are the Dominican student brothers at Blackfriars in Oxford singing the Latin plainchant:

Is the Shroud of Turin Authentic?

2011-12-20T11:12:00.000-05:00

Italian researchers with the National Agency for New Technologies, Energy and Sustainable Economic Development are claiming that the Shroud of Turin couldn’t have been a Medieval forgery, because the available technology to forge it wasn’t existent. And what they’re suggesting produced the image (a flash of light) is incredible. From a Telegraph article summarizing the researcher's claims:

"The double image (front and back) of a scourged and crucified man, barely visible on the linen cloth of the Shroud of Turin, has many physical and chemical characteristics that are so particular that the staining ... is impossible to obtain in a laboratory," concluded experts from Italy's National Agency for New Technologies, Energy and Sustainable Development.

The scientists set out to "identify the physical and chemical processes capable of generating a colour similar to that of the image on the Shroud." They concluded that the exact shade, texture and depth of the imprints on the cloth could only be produced with the aid of ultraviolet lasers – technology that was clearly not available in medieval times.

The scientists used extremely brief pulses of ultraviolet light to replicate the kind of marks found on the burial cloth.

They concluded that the iconic image of the bearded man must therefore have been created by "some form of electromagnetic energy (such as a flash of light at short wavelength)." Although they stopped short of offering a non-scientific explanation for the phenomenon, their findings will be embraced by those who believe that the marks on the shroud were miraculously created at the moment of Christ's Resurrection.

"We are not at the conclusion, we are composing pieces of a fascinating and complex scientific puzzle," the team wrote in their report.

Prof Paolo Di Lazzaro, the head of the team, said: "When one talks about a flash of light being able to colour a piece of linen in the same way as the shroud, discussion inevitably touches on things like miracles and resurrection." "But as scientists, we were concerned only with verifiable scientific processes. We hope our results can open up a philosophical and theological debate but we will leave the conclusions to the experts, and ultimately to the conscience of individuals."

The article contains a good summary of earlier scholarship both for an against the Shroud's authenticity, and notes that the “Vatican has never said whether it believes the shroud to be authentic or not, although Pope Benedict XVI has said that the enigmatic image imprinted on the cloth "reminds us always" of Christ's suffering.”

It would be amazing if the Shroud could be shown to be authentic, and it would be undeniably disappointing if it were shown to be a forgery. But as the pope has suggested, whether this is what it seems to be or not, it's a great reminder of Christ and His Suffering regardless of authenticity. In the Catholic Information Center, where I go for daily Mass, there's a picture of the Shroud, with the words “Your Face, O LORD, I will seek” (Psalm 27:8). Amen.

Day 3: O Radix Jesse (O Root of Jesse)

2011-12-19T21:00:00.160-05:00

Tonight's O Antiphon is “O Radix Jesse,” which means “O Root (or Shoot, or Flower) of Jesse.” In other words, the Messiah will come from Jesse's lineage. We hear this title for the Messiah in Isaiah 11:10: “In that day the Root of Jesse will stand as a banner for the peoples; the nations will rally to him, and his place of rest will be glorious.” St. Paul applies this verse to Jesus in Romans 15:12.

But Isaiah 11:10 isn't the only place we see a reference to the Root of Jesse. A few verses prior, we also see reference to it in Isaiah 11:1-5, the same passage that points to the Messiah as Sapientia (Wisdom) and Adonai (Lord). I personally prefer the Douay-Rheims translation of Isaiah 11:1, which reads, “And there shall come forth a rod out of the root of Jesse, and a flower shall rise up out of his root.”

So the Messiah will be both the Flower of David (or Branch of David) and the Root of David. But how can this be? Jesus points out this paradox Himself, when He spoke about the Messiah's relationship to David in Mark 12:35-37,

Christ the True Vine, Greek Icon (16th c.)

While Jesus was teaching in the temple courts, he asked, “Why do the teachers of the law say that the Messiah is the son of David? David himself, speaking by the Holy Spirit, declared:“‘The Lord said to my Lord: “Sit at my right hand until I put your enemies under your feet.”’ David himself calls him ‘Lord.’ How then can he be his son?” The large crowd listened to him with delight.

And in Revelation 22:16, we hear:

“I, Jesus, have sent my angel to give you this testimony for the churches. I am the Root and the Offspring of David, and the bright Morning Star.”

The answer, of course, is found in the Incarnation. St. Luke lays the answer out in the genealogy of Jesus (Lk. 3:23-38), tracing Jesus' lineage back through Jesse (Lk. 3:31), all the way to Adam, who he describes as the “son of God” (Lk. 3:38). In other words, Jesus is the Creator of Jesse, and of all mankind (John 1:3). In that sense, He's the Root of Jesse, and the Root of David, and in a certain sense, their Ancestor. But He's also their Descendant through the Incarnation. He chooses to be born of Mary, who is married to St. Joseph, of the lineage of Jesse and David (see Lk. 3:31 and Mt. 1:5-6). This detail is so important to the understanding of Who Christ Is that it's the first thing St. Matthew tells us in his Gospel. The first lines we read are: “A record of the genealogy of Jesus Christ the son of David, the son of Abraham” (Mt. 1:1).

There's an incredibly beautiful 16th century hymn about this prophesy, Es ist ein Ros entsprungen, which means literally, “A Rose has sprung up.” Protestants purged the parts about Mary, leaving us with a still beautiful hymn, Lo, How a Rose E'er blooming. You can listen to the traditional version here, or Sufjan Stephen's rendition here. And you can find the lyrics to both versions here.

The traditional Latin Antiphon is:

O Radix Jesse, qui stas in signum populorum,super quem continebunt reges os suum,quem gentes deprecabuntur:veni ad liberandum nos, jam noli tardare.

Which means, in English:

O Root of Jesse, which standest for an Ensign of the people,
At Whom the kings shall shut their mouths,
Whom the Gentiles shall seek,
Come to deliver us, do not tarry.

It corresponds to the fourth verse from O Come, O Come Emmanuel:

O Come, Thou Rod of Jesse's stem,
from ev'ry foe deliver them
that trust Thy mighty power to save,
and give them vict'ry o'er the grave.

And the English version used in the Antiphon today:

O Flower of Jesse’s stem,you have been raised up as a sign for all peoples;
kings stand silent in your presence;
the nations bow down in worship before you.
Come, let nothing keep you from coming to our aid.

And finally, here are the Dominican student brothers at Blackfriars in Oxford singing the Latin plainchant:

How Mary Built the Temple that King David Couldn't

2011-12-19T12:00:00.001-05:00

Yesterday's First Reading was about King David, and his plans to build a Temple for the Lord, to store the Ark. It begins (2 Samuel 7:1-3):

Now when the king dwelt in his house, and the LORD had given him rest from all his enemies round about, the king said to Nathan the prophet, "See now, I dwell in a house of cedar, but the ark of God dwells in a tent." And Nathan said to the king, "Go, do all that is in your heart; for the LORD is with you."

But that night, Nathan hears in a dream that David shouldn't go ahead. God hasn't asked David to build him a Temple, and has something better in mind. Namely, God sends a message to David, via Nathan, saying (2 Sam. 7:11b-16):

Moreover the LORD declares to you that the LORD will make you a house. When your days are fulfilled and you lie down with your fathers, I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come forth from your body, and I will establish his kingdom. He shall build a house for my name, and I will establish the throne of his kingdom for ever.

I will be his father, and he shall be my son. When he commits iniquity, I will chasten him with the rod of men, with the stripes of the sons of men; but I will not take my steadfast love from him, as I took it from Saul, whom I put away from before you. And your house and your kingdom shall be made sure for ever before me; your throne shall be established for ever.'"

This prophesy was of both David's son Solomon (1 Kings 6:1), and of Christ (Hebrews 1:5). When it comes to Jesus, the Temple of Christ is His Body.

“The Lord is With You”

But here's what I missed, until Fr. Ruskamp pointed it out in his homily yesterday. When David wanted to build a Temple for God, and create a glorious place, fitting of the Ark of the Covenant, Nathan initially approved by saying, “Go, do all that is in your heart; for the LORD is with you” (2 Samuel 7:3). Compare this with the way the angel Gabriel greets Mary in Luke 1:26-33, from yesterday's Gospel reading:

In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth,to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin's name was Mary. And he came to her and said, "Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you!" But she was greatly troubled at the saying, and considered in her mind what sort of greeting this might be. And the angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High; and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob for ever; and of his kingdom there will be no end."

It's just astonishingly clear. At the end, Gabriel explicitly references God's promise in 2 Sam. 7:11-16 that He'd establish David's throne forever. But given this, how can we deny that his greeting, “Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you!” fulfills what had been promised but deferred to David? Mary is going to build (in her womb) the Temple that David didn't get to build.

A Worthy Builder

Nicolas Cordier, King David

Don't overlook how beautifully all of this Ark imagery is tied in with the idea of the Temple. We can see this in two different ways. First, as we've just seen, the passage being alluded to in Luke 1:26-33 is 2 Samuel 7:1-16. But this part came almost directly after the next parallel we see, between Luke 1:39-56 and 2 Samuel 6:2-14. Both the Old Testament passages and their New Testament fulfillments occur one right after another. That can hardly be ignored as a coincidence.

Second, David makes clear that the Temple is needed because of the Ark. Listen to how he justifies the need for a Temple: “See now, I dwell in a house of cedar, but the ark of God dwells in a tent” (2 Sam. 7:2). He wanted a worthy dwelling for the Ark.

And God doesn't disagree with this rationale. In fact, He blesses David for his good intentions. But He forbids David from doing the building, because David was “a man of war, and has shed blood” (1 Chronicles 28:3). The builder of the Temple needed clean hands. That God chose Mary, of all the women who have ever lived, to not only build the New Temple, but be the Gate of that Temple, and the New Ark, is an incredible testimony to her purity and sinlessness.

The Woman of Rev. 12, Revisited

Finally, this sheds more light on the identity of the glorified Woman from Revelation. It does this in two ways. First, Luke 1 (read through the lens of 2 Samuel 6-7) once again ties the Temple, the Ark, and the Mother of God together, just as we see in Rev. 11:19-12:3,

Then God's temple in heaven was opened, and the ark of his covenant was seen within his temple; and there were flashes of lightning, voices, peals of thunder, an earthquake, and heavy hail.

And a great portent appeared in heaven, a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars; she was with child and she cried out in her pangs of birth, in anguish for delivery.

The Woman gives birth to Jesus Christ (Rev. 12:5).

The objection to reading this passage as referring to Mary is that some of the details don't fit Mary very well: they fit the Church better. This is true, but 2 Sam. 7:11b-16 contains the answer to this objection, as well. Some of the details don't fit Christ well at all (for example: “When he commits iniquity, I will chasten him with the rod of men”), and fit Solomon better. Protestants have no trouble recognizing that the solution isn't that it's Solomon or Christ, but both:

Moreover, it is certain that God never anticipated that his beloved Christ would “commit iniquity,” and therefore possibly need “chastening” with the “rod of men” (2 Samuel 7:14). In a number of ways, for example, Isaiah 53 affirms the utter perfection of Jehovah’s servant, Jesus Christ. This portion of 2 Samuel 7:14-15, therefore, obviously applies to Solomon alone.

The prophecy plainly encompasses, however, a far grander scope than that of Solomon’s day, as is suggested by the “last words” of David himself (2 Samuel 23:1ff) and the comments of several inspired New Testament writers.

So 2 Samuel 7 is about Solomon and Jesus, but some details only apply to One or the other. Why shouldn't Rev. 11:19-12:17 be understood the same way in understanding the Woman as Mary and the Church?

Day 2: O Adonai (O Lord)

2011-12-18T21:00:00.124-05:00

Tonight's O Antiphon is “O Adonai,” which means “O Lord,” and is one of the Divine titles used in the Old Testament. Because the name YHWH was considered too sacred to even speak, pious Jews would often replace the Name with Adonai, meaning Lord, instead. In Isaiah 33:22, the prophet Isaiah says:

For the Lord is our judge,
the Lord is our lawgiver,
the Lord is our king: he will save us.

He uses the word YHWH there, but it would have been spoken as Adonai. Bear that in mind when reading Isaiah 11:1-5, and its promise of the coming Messiah. Again, I've bolded the relevant part for today's Antiphon:

Then a shoot will spring from the stem of Jesse,
And a branch from his roots will bear fruit.
The Spirit of the LORD will rest on Him,
The spirit of wisdom and understanding,
The spirit of counsel and strength,
The spirit of knowledge and the fear of the LORD.
And He will delight in the fear of the LORD,
And He will not judge by what His eyes see,
Nor make a decision by what His ears hear;
But with righteousness He will judge the poor,
And decide with fairness for the afflicted of the earth;
And He will strike the earth with the rod of His mouth,
And with the breath of His lips He will slay the wicked.
Also righteousness will be the belt about His loins,
And faithfulness the belt about His waist.

In other words, Isaiah is promising that the coming Messiah will do the things that Adonai does, serving as Judge (John 9:39), King (Luke 23:3) and Lawgiver (Matthew 5:21-48). Jesus fulfills each of these (as the Scriptures I just cited to show), as we'll see more clearly at the Final Judgment (Revelation 19:15-16).

All of this points to something even more radical: the coming Messiah would be the Lord, Adonai, God Himself. The New Testament shows us clearly how this was fulfilled (Philippians 2:5-11):

Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus, who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men.

Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. For this reason also, God highly exalted Him, and bestowed on Him the name which is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee will bow, of those who are in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and that every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

St. Paul is referencing another part of Isaiah (Isaiah 45:22-23), in which God Himself says:

Turn to Me and be saved, all the ends of the earth;
For I am God, and there is no other.
I have sworn by Myself,
The word has gone forth from My mouth in righteousness
And will not turn back,
That to Me every knee will bow,
every tongue will swear allegiance.

By applying this passage to Jesus, St. Paul is making it pretty clear that Jesus Christ is not from God, but IS God. He IS Adonai, YHWH.

The traditional Latin Antiphon is:

O Adonai, et dux domus Israel,
qui Moyse in igne flammae rubi apparuisti,
et ei in Sina legem dedisti:
veni ad redimendum nos in brachio extento.

Which means, in English:

O Adonai, and ruler of the House of Israel, Who didst appear unto Moses in the burning bush, and gavest him the law in Sinai, Come to redeem us with an outstretched arm!

It corresponds to the third verse from O Come, O Come Emmanuel:

O Come, O Come, Thou Lord of might,
Who to thy tribes on Sinai's height
in ancient times didst give the law,
in cloud, and majesty, and awe.

And the English version used in the Antiphon today:

O Sacred Lord of ancient Israel,
Who showed yourself to Moses in the burning bush,
Who gave him the holy law on Sinai mountain:
Come, stretch out your mighty hand to set us free.

And finally, here are the Dominican student brothers at Blackfriars in Oxford singing the Latin plainchant:

Day 1: O Sapientia (O Wisdom)

2011-12-17T21:00:00.124-05:00

Tonight's O Antiphon is “O Sapientia,” which means “O Wisdom.” All of the first three O Antiphons are tied to the Messianic prophesy in Isaiah 11:1-5. I've bolded the relevant part for today's Antiphon:

Then a shoot will spring from the stem of Jesse,
And a branch from his roots will bear fruit.
The Spirit of the LORD will rest on Him,
The spirit of wisdom and understanding,
The spirit of counsel and strength,
The spirit of knowledge and the fear of the LORD.
And He will delight in the fear of the LORD,
And He will not judge by what His eyes see,
Nor make a decision by what His ears hear;
But with righteousness He will judge the poor,
And decide with fairness for the afflicted of the earth;
And He will strike the earth with the rod of His mouth,
And with the breath of His lips He will slay the wicked.
Also righteousness will be the belt about His loins,
And faithfulness the belt about His waist.

This passage in fulfilled in a particular way in Jesus' Baptism in the Jordan (Matthew 3:16-17), where we see the Holy Spirit descend and rest on Christ. But even prior to this, Jesus is the Wisdom of God, which is why St. John describes Him as the Logos of God in John 1:1-3. St. Paul also contrasts worldly wisdom and Godly Wisdom, personified in Jesus Christ, in 1 Cor. 1:25-31:

For consider your calling, brethren, that there were not many wise according to the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble; but God has chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to shame the things which are strong, and the base things of the world and the despised God has chosen, the things that are not, so that He may nullify the things that are, so that no man may boast before God. But by His doing you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification, and redemption, so that, just as it is written, “Let him who boasts, boast in the Lord.”

The traditional Latin Antiphon is:

O Sapientia, quae ex ore Altissimi prodisti,
attingens a fine usque ad finem fortiter,
suaviter disponensque omnia:
veni ad docendum nos viam prudentiae.

Which means, in English:

O Wisdom that comest out of the mouth of the Most High,
that reachest from one end to another,
and orderest all things mightily and sweetly,
Come to teach us the way of prudence!

It corresponds to the second verse from O Come, O Come Emmanuel:

O Come, Thou Wisdom, from on high,
and order all things far and nigh;
to us the path of knowledge show,
and teach us in her ways to go.

And the English version used in the Antiphon today:

O Wisdom, O holy Word of God,
you govern all creation with your strong yet tender care:
Come and show your people the way to salvation.

And finally, here are the Dominican student brothers at Blackfriars in Oxford singing the Latin plainchant:

Has Mormonism Discarded Ex-Scripture?

2011-12-16T11:51:00.005-05:00

Brent Stubbs (who has an amazing Catholic blog of his own) passed along this post to me. In it, Doug Gibson makes a pretty bold claim: that “decanonization” has occurred in the Mormon scriptures. That is, texts which were once declared to be inspired Scripture were later declared not Scripture and simply discarded. I did a bit of research, and discovered that Gibson was right. This has happened twice: with the Lectures on Faith, and with Doctrines & Covenants 101.

I. Lectures on Faith

The “Lectures on Faith” were a series of seven lectures once included in Doctrines and Covenants. They were included as the first part of the 1835 edition of Doctrines & Covenants, with this introduction:

Doctrines & Covenants, 1835 Edition
The first part of the book will be found to contain a series of Lectures as delivered before a Theological class in this place, and in consequence of their embracing the important doctrine of salvation, we have ar ranged them into the following work.

The second part contains items or principles for the regulation of the church, as taken from the revelations which have been given since its organization, as well as from former ones.

But in 1921, the Lectures were removed. Now, some Mormons claim that the Lectures were never understood to be Scripture. Given the prominent role that they played in the 1835 edition of the D&C, and the fact that they weren't demarcated as non-canonical, I don't find this claim very compelling.

Joseph Smith

But in either case, there's a bigger problem. Whether understood as Scripture or not, Lecture 5 contains a view of the Mormon Godhead that's inconsistent with later Mormon views. Richard S. Van Wagoner, Steven C. Walker and Allen D. Roberts have a fascinating article in a Mormon theological journal (Dialogue) about the Lectures, in which they note that Joseph Smith endorsed, and helped prepare them for inclusion in the D&C:

Whatever Joseph Smith’s original position, he noted his involvement in preparing the Lectures for publication: “During the month of January [1835],” his official journal records, “I was engaged in the school of the Elders, and in preparing the lectures on theology for publication in the book of Doctrines and Covenants” (HC 2:180). He underscored his personal support of the Lectures by noting the introduction to the 1835 edition that he accepted responsibility for “every principle advanced.”

Even the Mormon apologetics group FAIR concedes, “Recent authorship studies ascribe the wording of the lectures "mainly to Sidney Rigdon," with Joseph Smith substantially involved, and others perhaps having some influence.”

So given this, and the prominent endorsement in the Introduction to the 1835 edition, consider what Lecture 5 says about the Godhead. In the lecture itself, we're told:

There are two personages who constitute the great, matchless, governing, and supreme power over all things - by whom all things were created and made that are created and made, whether visible or invisible; whether in heaven, on earth, or in the earth, under the earth, or throughout the immensity of space. They are the Father and the Son: The Father being a personage of spirit, glory, and power, possessing all perfection and fullness. The Son, who was in the bosom of the Father, a personage of tabernacle, made or fashioned like unto man, or being in the form and likeness of man - or rather, man was formed after his likeness and in his image.

So the Godhead consists of two Persons: the Father and the Son. The Holy Spirit isn't a separate Person, but is simply the common Mind of the Father and the Son. And while the Son is in the form of Man, the Father is a “personage of spirit.” This was reaffirmed with some questions and answers at the end of the lecture:

Q. How many personages are there in the Godhead?

A. Two: the Father and the Son (Lecture 5:1).

Q. How do you prove that there are two personages in the Godhead?

A. a. By the Scriptures: Gen. 1:27 (Inspired Version)†; (also Lecture 2:6); "And I, God, said unto mine Only Begotten, which was with me from the beginning, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness; and it was so."

b. Gen. 3:28 (Inspired Version)†, "And I, the Lord God, said unto mine Only Begotten, Behold, the man is become as one of us, to know good and evil."

c. John 17:5, "And now, O Father, glorify thou me with thine own self with the glory which I had with thee before the world was" (Lecture 5:2).

All of that is pretty clear. But contrast it with what Mormonism teaches today, from D&C 130:22,

The Father has a body of flesh and bones as tangible as man’s; the Son also; but the Holy Ghost has not a body of flesh and bones, but is a personage of Spirit. Were it not so, the Holy Ghost could not ddwell in us.

Three major changes:

There are now Three Members of the Godhead, not Two;
The Holy Spirit is no longer the common Mind of the Father and Son, but a Personage of Spirit;
The Father is no longer a Personage of Spirit, but now has a Body, just like the Son.

So in other words, not only was the Lectures on the Faith section jettisoned from the Mormon Scriptures, but the central doctrines it taught about God were then rejected, and replaced with a new version of the Godhead. Yet both of these contradictory views were endorsed by both Doctrines & Covenants and Joseph Smith, Jr., who Mormons regard as a prophet.

II. Doctrines & Covenants 101

There are two texts known as Doctrines & Covenants 101. The first of these was promulgated in 1835, and is available here and here. It contains an important statement denouncing polygamy:

Inasmuch as this church of Christ has been reproached with the crime of fornication, and polygamy: we declare that we believe, that one man should have one wife; and one woman, but one husband, except in case of death, when either is at liberty to marry again.

Emma Smith

Unlike Lectures on the Faith, there's no question that this was removed from the canon, and disregard. The reason is that the Mormon view on polygamy reversed (twice, actually). Doctrines & Covenants 132:4 declared “a new and an everlasting covenant; and if ye abide not that covenant, then are ye damned.” This new revelation called for (and in some cases commanded) polygamy, and included a threat against Joseph Smith's wife Emma if she didn't accept Joseph's other wives, she'd be destroyed (D&C 132:52). In relevant part, it teaches (D&C 132:61-62):

And again, as pertaining to the law of the priesthood—if any man espouse a virgin, and desire to espouse another, and the first give her consent, and if he espouse the second, and they are virgins, and have vowed to no other man, then is he justified; he cannot commit adultery for they are given unto him; for he cannot commit adultery with that that belongeth unto him and to no one else.

And if he have ten virgins given unto him by this law, he cannot commit adultery, for they belong to him, and they are given unto him; therefore is he justified.

This new and “everlasting ” covenant was more or less set aside in Official Declaration 1 in 1890, which falsely claimed:

We are not teaching polygamy or plural marriage, nor permitting any person to enter into its practice, and I deny that either forty or any other number of plural marriages have during that period been solemnized in our Temples or in any other place in the Territory.

This gets more interesting when you see the headnotes provided by the LDS Church, which say of D&C 132 (the revelation permitting polygamy):

Although the revelation was recorded in 1843, it is evident from the historical records that the doctrines and principles involved in this revelation had been known by the Prophet since 1831.

In other words, even though he didn't claim to receive a revelation that okayed polygamy until 1843, he'd been living like he'd received such a revelation since 1831. That strikes me as the most polite way I've ever heard of describing someone as an adulterer. And indeed, the historical record is clear that Joseph Smith was marrying women besides Emma back in the early 1830s.

But hold on a second. If “the Prophet” was living according to the not-yet-announced rules about plural marriage back in 1831, how can we account for the 1835 version of Doctrines & Covenants 101 declaring on behalf of “this church of Christ” that “one man should have one wife; and one woman, but one husband, except in case of death, when either is at liberty to marry again,” and feigning disgust at being “reproached with the crime of fornication, and polygamy”?

Conclusion

It's strange enough that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints has now twice de-canonized Scripture. But stranger still is that official Church teachings on things like the nature of God, and on Christian marriage have gone in all different directions: that is, that in jettisoning Scriptures, they also jettisoned an old set of beliefs. I'd pose the following questions to any Mormons reading this:

Are there any other sections of LDS Scripture that are considered inspired today, that might be jettisoned to the ash heap of history tomorrow? How can we know?
Was Lectures on Faith the word of God?
Was Doctrines & Covenants 101 the word of God?
Were Smith and the Church in error in promulgating Lectures on Faith and D&C 101?
Were Smith and the Church in error in rejecting Lectures on Faith and D&C 101?
Did the truth of the nature of the Godhead change between the 1830s and 1840s?
Was plural marriage moral or immoral in 1835?

The O Antiphons

2011-12-16T09:41:00.004-05:00

The last seven evenings of Advent, from tomorrow to Dec. 23, are traditionally spent praying a set of ancient prayers called the “O Antiphons.” Each night addresses Christ by a different title, based upon the Messianic prophesies in the Book of Isaiah. Most people are familiar with these titles from the hymn, O Come, O Come, Emmanuel, which is based upon the O Antiphons:

Dec 17: O Sapientia (O Wisdom),
Dec 18: O Adonai (O Lord),
Dec 19: O Radix Jesse (O Root of Jesse),
Dec 20: O Clavis David (O Key of David),
Dec 21: O Oriens (O Rising Sun),
Dec 22: O Rex Gentium (O King of the Nations), and
Dec 23: O Emmanuel

The first letter of each Messianic title, read from Dec. 23 backwards, spells “ero cras,” or “Tomorrow, I come,” which is fitting, since the next night is the Christmas Vigil.

This Advent, I plan to do a short post, each day from tomorrow to the 23rd, highlighting the O Antiphon of the day, because I think it's one of the best ways of prayerfully preparing for Christmas.

Christopher Hitchens, R.I.P.

2011-12-16T08:57:00.001-05:00

The prominent atheist Christopher Hitchens has died, at age 62, from pneumonia, a complication from the cancer he'd been fighting for some time. May God have mercy on his soul.

Early Church Fathers on Mary as the New Eve

2011-12-15T18:07:00.001-05:00

Last week, I talked about how Mary is presented in Scripture as the New Eve, through a number of remarkable parallels. In that post, I quoted St. Irenaeus, who wrote in 180 A.D. about what he called “the back-reference from Mary to Eve,” namely, that “the knot of Eve's disobedience was loosed by the obedience of Mary. For what the virgin Eve had bound fast through unbelief, this did the virgin Mary set free through faith.”

But Irenaeus wasn't the only Father to point this out. Nor was he even the first. Twenty years earlier, in about 160 A.D., St. Justin Martyr wrote:

St. Justin Martyr
For Eve, who was a virgin and undefiled, having conceived the word of the serpent, brought forth disobedience and death. But the Virgin Mary received faith and joy, when the angel Gabriel announced the good tidings to her that the Spirit of the Lord would come upon her, and the power of the Highest would overshadow her: wherefore also the Holy Thing begotten of her is the Son of God; and she replied, 'Be it unto me according to thy word.' And by her has He been born, to whom we have proved so many Scriptures refer, and by whom God destroys both the serpent and those angels and men who are like him; but works deliverance from death to those who repent of their wickedness and believe upon Him.

So add that to the list of parallels between the Fall and the Redemption. Eve was visited by a fallen angel who enticed her to disobedience from God. Mary was visited by an angel, and responded with total obedience. Note also the distinction Justin draws between “virgin” and “undefiled.” That is, Eve was both a virgin and freed from all sin, original and actual, prior to the Fall.

Tertullian (c. 160 - c. 220 A.D.) also picks up on this theme, a few decades after Irenaeus:

Tertullian
For it was while Eve was yet a virgin, that the ensnaring word had crept into her ear which was to build the edifice of death. Into a virgin's soul, in like manner, must be introduced that Word of God which was to raise the fabric of life; so that what had been reduced to ruin by this sex, might by the selfsame sex be recovered to salvation. As Eve had believed the serpent, so Mary believed the angel. The delinquency which the one occasioned by believing, the other by believing effaced. But (it will be said) Eve did not at the devil's word conceive in her womb. Well, she at all events conceived; for the devil's word afterwards became as seed to her that she should conceive as an outcast, and bring forth in sorrow. Indeed she gave birth to a fratricidal devil; while Mary, on the contrary, bare one who was one day to secure salvation to Israel, His own brother after the flesh, and the murderer of Himself. God therefore sent down into the virgin's womb His Word, as the good Brother, who should blot out the memory of the evil brother. Hence it was necessary that Christ should come forth for the salvation of man, in that condition of flesh into which man had entered ever since his condemnation.

So these parallels between the Virgin Mary and the virgin Eve weren't overlooked by the Church Fathers. This isn't some sort of paganism creeping in, or somebody trying to force-fit their views on Mary into Scripture. This was solid Scriptural exegesis, as some of the earliest Christians explained the truths of the faith. Perhaps 60 or 80 years after the death of the Apostle John sounds like a long time. But compare it with the earliest records we have of virtually any other well formulated doctrine (like the Trinity), and you'll see that it's remarkably early.

What About the Church as the New Eve?

The objection has been raised that the Church could also be understood as the New Eve. This is absolutely true, particularly since the Church is described as the sinless Bride of Christ (Ephesians 5:25-27), and Christ is clearly the New Adam (1 Cor. 15:22, 45). Plus, St. Paul explicitly compares the Church with Eve in 2 Corinthians 11:2-3. So there's sense in which the Church is undeniably the New Eve. But it's not either / or between Mary and the Church, either here or in the depiction of the Woman in Revelation 12.

There are two reasons. First, we're dealing with symbolic, allegorical language: it frequently contains layers upon layers of meanings, and if we're not conscious of the meaning being expressed, we can deconstruct it into senselessness. For example, in the short passage I referenced above (Ephesians 5:21-33), St. Paul presents three images of the relationship between Christ and the Church: (a) Christ is the Head of the Church; (b) the entire Church is His Body; and (c) the Church is His Bride. Those images seem exclusive of one another: is Christ the entire Body, or just the Head? And in either case, nobody is married to their Head, or to their Body. But each image is just that: an image, capturing a spiritual reality that Paul ultimately describes as a Mystery (Eph. 5:32). So there's no reason that if Mary is the New Eve, the Church can't be the New Eve, or vice versa.

St. Ambrose of Milan

But there's an even better reason. Mary is a living image of the Church, which is why we refer to both Mary and the Church as Mother. St. Ambrose describes Mary in this way, in explaining Luke 1:27:

Well [does the Gospel say]: married but a virgin; because she is the type of the Church, which is also married but remains immaculate. The Virgin [Church] conceived us by the Holy Spirit and, as a virgin, gave birth to us without pain. And perhaps this is why holy Mary, married to one man [Joseph], is made fruitful by another [the Holy Spirit], to show that the individual churches are filled with the Spirit and with grace, even as they are united to the person of a temporal priest.

Lumen Gentium picks up on these themes, showing the New Eve imagery to be a both/and, not an either/or, between Mary and the Church:

63. By reason of the gift and role of divine maternity, by which she is united with her Son, the Redeemer, and with His singular graces and functions, the Blessed Virgin is also intimately united with the Church. As St. Ambrose taught, the Mother of God is a type of the Church in the order of faith, charity and perfect union with Christ.(18*) For in the mystery of the Church, which is itself rightly called mother and virgin, the Blessed Virgin stands out in eminent and singular fashion as exemplar both of virgin and mother. (19*) By her belief and obedience, not knowing man but overshadowed by the Holy Spirit, as the new Eve she brought forth on earth the very Son of the Father, showing an undefiled faith, not in the word of the ancient serpent, but in that of God's messenger. The Son whom she brought forth is He whom God placed as the first-born among many brethren,(299) namely the faithful, in whose birth and education she cooperates with a maternal love.

Michelangelo, Creation of Eve (1508-12)

Now, with that in mind, there are certain areas in which either Mary or the Church seems like a better fit. The Church is the New Eve in the sense of being the Bride of Christ. But certain other roles are quite clearly Marian. For example, there are only two people ever described in Scripture as having a single parent; Eve, whose body is taken completely from Adam (Gen. 2:22-23); and Jesus, who takes on Flesh through the Virgin Mary (Luke 1:34-35). And just as Adam goes from referring to Eve as “Woman” to “Mother” at the moment of the Curse (Gen 3:20), Christ transitions from referring to Mary as “Woman” to “Mother” at the moment He lifts the Curse on the Cross (John 19:26-27).

This is all part of a much larger picture painted in Scripture of Jesus bringing about a New Genesis through His Death and Resurrection. But to get the full picture, you need to understand the role played by the New Eve, which means understanding the role of Mary, icon of the Church.

Fr. Andrew Strobl, Vampire Hunter

2011-12-14T22:56:00.004-05:00

Fr. Andrew Strobl, (alleged) Shameless Popery co-blogger, and Vampire Hunter extraordinaire:

That's him on the right. The priest on the left is the Priest at the End of the World. They're at some sort of gamers convention, and apparently, nobody believed that they were really priests, since a lot of other folks were wearing weird costumes, too.

Anyways, if this isn't the perfect nexus of orthodoxy, nerdiness, and sheer awesome, I'm not sure what is.