Carl E. Olson's Blog, page 199

40% off Meryl Amland's "Employee Pick of the Week"

There have only been two fiction writers able to move me to tears: J.R.R. Tolkien and Michael O’Brien.

Island of the World
is by far on my top five list of greatest novels of all time. It is a
gripping tale following the life of Josip Lasta, a Croatian born into a
life of suffering and sacrifice. O’Brien pulls you in, tugging at your
emotions and your faith, and ultimately making you carefully examine
your own purpose in life.



A few copies are circulating throughout my family, and even a few of my
non-Christian family members have thoroughly enjoyed this book and have
passed it on to their own friends.  This is a book that you cannot put
down, and one that will make you think until you cannot think anymore.

I
hope this type of literature will continue to be read for generations
to come. Island of the World is also available in hardcover, as an e-book and an audio download.
 




Meryl
Amland is Production Assistant and E-book Editor at Ignatius Press. She
is also a guest writer for Catholic Word Report. She graduated from Ave
Maria University in 2009 with a Bachelors in Theology and Literature,
and she hopes to finish writing her own novel someday. Meryl currently
lives in Belmont, California.





*Employee
Pick of the Week program features savings of 40% off a book, movie, or
compact disc personally chosen and recommended by an Ignatius Press
employee.  Each week, an Ignatius Press employee will select a favorite
book, movie, or other Ignatius Press product and write a few sentences
about why he/she thinks customers will enjoy the particular selection. A
short bio of the selecting employee will also be included, giving
customers a chance to learn a bit more about the people who are Ignatius
Press.

Listening to the Experts

Listening to the Experts | Anthony Esolen | Catholic World Report



Catherine of Siena was the most important and influential person in Europe during the latter part of the 14th century. It could not happen now.

When
the novelist Sigrid Undset was making her way from atheism to the Catholic
faith, her most powerful guide was the Dominican laywoman Saint Catherine of
Siena. The central moral insight in Undset’s most renowned works, the trilogy Kristin Lavransdatter and the tetralogy The Master
of Hestviken, is that self-love—egotism—is the seedbed of all of the evil in the world, as it crowds out
of the heart any room for love of God and neighbor, as weeds choke a garden. It
is not an insight that requires a doctorate in philosophy to arrive at. That
makes it all the more likely to be true, since the Father, says Jesus, has
hidden his truths from the wise and the prudent in this world, and has revealed
them unto innocents and fools, whose hearts are not clotted with pride. And no
woman in 14th century Italy was more innocent than Catherine of Siena.

Undset’s
biography, Catherine of Siena, is a fascinating
book, not only for its meticulous account of the life of Saint
Catherine, based
upon the remarkable memoirs of Blessed Raymond of Capua, Catherine’s
long-time
confessor and close friend, and upon the hundreds of letters which
Catherine
dictated to popes, cardinals, bishops, priests, governors, warlords,
kinsmen,
and friends. What really sets it apart from any hagiography I know of is
Undset’s continuing comparison, usually implicit but sometimes bold and
clear,
of the Middle Ages with our own times. Now, Undset’s greatest novels are
set in
those same centuries, and she is under no illusion about their waves of
cruelty
and brutality. Indeed, Catherine was born into a world of bitter strife,
the
same world against which the aged Dante inveighed. The cities of Italy
were
economic and military rivals, the pope had moved the Curia to
Avignon—across the Rhone from the kingdom of France—and French legates
governed the Papal States, earning the hatred
of the native Romans. It was a century of ever-shifting military
alliances and
civil war, with bands of robbers and murderers under mercenaries like
Sir John
Hawkwood helping to stoke the flames.

Continue reading at www.CatholicWorldReport.com.

The Scriptural Roots of St. Augustine's Spirituality

The Scriptural Roots of St. Augustine's Spirituality | Stephen N. Filippo |
IgnatiusInsight.com





Perhaps of all the Church Fathers, none shone so brightly as
St. Augustine (351-430). Augustine's spirituality has deeply pervaded the
Church right up to this very day. Two great Orders in the Church (just to cite
a few), the Benedictines and the Franciscans took their spirituality directly
from St. Augustine. St. Augustine's spirituality came into the Benedictine
Order primarily through St. Anselm (1033-1109) and into the Franciscans
primarily through St. Bonaventure (1221-1274). Both these men were in
themselves, also great lights in the Church.



Of course, no discussion of Church giants can be complete
without mentioning St. Thomas Aquinas, who is best described as 'following St.
Augustine in Theology and Aristotle in Philosophy.' In sum, the Church gets her
Dogmatic Theology primarily through St. Augustine. Since Spiritual Theology is
based upon the correct Dogmatic Theology, it only makes sense that one of the
Church's greatest Theologians, St. Augustine, is also responsible for a great
deal of her Spiritual Theology.



And for St. Augustine, as it should be for all Catholics,
this means a deep concentration and constant reflection on Sacred Scripture.
The scriptural roots of St. Augustine's spirituality can be clearly seen by
examining one of his greatest, yet lesser known works, De doctrina
Christiana, literally "On Christian
Doctrine," but actually "On how to read and interpret Sacred Scripture."



In De doctrina Christiana (henceforth "DDC"), St. Augustine lays the groundwork for a good,
spiritual exegesis by elucidating on the virtue of charity, and all that means.
Then, in order to begin the climb to spiritual perfection, he explains a
scripturally based seven-step ladder. Lastly, he gives seven rules that are
helpful in reading and understanding Sacred Scripture correctly.

Charity Towards God, Neighbor And Self



St. Augustine teaches that there are four possible objects
of human love: 1. The things above us, 2. Ourselves, 3. Things equal to us, and
4. Things below us. Since all men by nature love themselves, there was no need
to give the human race precepts about self-love. And, since it is obvious to
most men that they should not love that which is below them, namely lesser
objects, but merely use them, fewer precepts are given in the Bible concerning
these. But about the love of things above us, namely God and His Angels, and
things equal to us, namely other men, Sacred Scripture has everything to say.
Our Lord Himself tells us the two greatest commandments are: "You shall love
the Lord your God, with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your
mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. The second is like it: You
shall love your neighbor as yourself. Upon these the whole law and the prophets
depend" (Mt. 22: 37-40).



Then, Augustine makes the distinction between enjoyment and
use: "Some things are to be enjoyed, others to be used, and there are others
which are to be used and enjoyed. Those things which are to be enjoyed make us
blessed. Those things which are to be used help and, as it were, sustain us as
we move toward blessedness in order that we may gain and cling to those things
which make us blessed . . . To enjoy something is to cling to it with love, for
its own sake. To use something, however, is to employ it in obtaining that
which you love, provided it is worthy of love." (DDC I, iii, 3. iv, 4.) And,
for St. Augustine, as it should be for us, the only thing worthy of his love,
the only "thing" to be "enjoyed for its own sake" is the Holy, Blessed Trinity,
the One True God.



Concerning love of our neighbors, St. Augustine reminds us
that "all other men are to be loved equally; but since you cannot be of
assistance to everyone, those are especially to be cared for who are most
closely bound to you by place, time or opportunity, as if by chance. Just as if
you had an abundance of something special that you could only give enough of to
one other person, yet two came asking, neither of whom deserved it more or
less. You could do no more than choose by lot. Thus, among all men, not all of
whom you can care for, you must consider those in your life as if chosen by
lot, who, in reality, are chosen by God." (DDC I, xxviii, 29). Therefore, the
second great pre-requisite of St. Augustine's for interpreting Sacred Scripture
is charity to every person in your life.



Concerning love of self, St. Augustine recommends frequent
confession. Our souls in this life are engaged in deadly warfare with the devil
and his fallen angels, as well as our own selfishness. As a result, we are
constantly being wounded, either in a minor way or mortally. A mortal wound
(sin) is deadly and will destroy all opportunity for Eternal Life, if not
remedied. If we truly love ourselves, then we will want to be always ready to
meet our Maker. The only way to meet our Maker when we die is to be in the
state of grace. The only way to maintain the state of grace in this life is to
go to confession frequently. We should pay special attention to our worst flaws
and beg Our Lord to root them out.



Therefore: 1. set your sights on God alone as the only
object of your love and enjoyment, while enjoying other men only for the sake
of Him; 2. be truly charitable to all who cross your path, for it is not by
accident or random chance that they come into your life; and 3. go to the
Divine Physician for the cure to your wounds (sins). Thus are laid down the
three most important pre-requisites for correctly reading Sacred Scripture: charity
towards God, neighbor and self; without which none can be faithful to the
Truths taught in the Bible.



In essence, St. Augustine notes there are those things we
are to love for their sake alone, namely the Holy Trinity; and those things we
are to love as ourselves, namely all other men. So, whoever in his own opinion
feels he understands Sacred Scripture, or any part of it, yet does not build
knowledge of love of God and neighbor, "has not yet known as he ought to know."
(1 Cor. 8:2) Or, if such a one has discerned from the Scriptures an idea
helpful in building this two-fold love, but which was not the intention of the
Sacred Author, he is not in error, for his intention is not to lie, but to
build up the kingdom of heaven. So, if one is mistaken in his interpretation of
Scripture, yet he builds up charity, which is the end of the precept (cf. 1
Tim. 1:5), he is mistaken like the traveler who makes a wrong turn yet ends up
at the right place regardless.



However, it is better not to leave the correct path, lest by
habitually deviating, one end up in the wrong place altogether. By rashly
asserting things the Sacred Author did not intend, one frequently runs into
other passages he cannot reconcile to his interpretation. If one in humility
gives way to Scripture, fine. But if one loves his own opinion more, he will
grow vexed with the Scriptures, and ultimately be destroyed by it. For, "faith
will totter, if the Authority of Sacred Scripture waivers. Indeed, even charity
itself grows weak, if faith totters. If anyone falls from faith, it is
inevitable that he also fall from charity. For he cannot love what he does not
believe exists. Yet, if he both believes and loves, by leading a good life and
obeying the commandments, he gives himself reason to hope that he may arrive at
that which he loves. And so "there abides faith, hope and charity, these
three," (2 Cor. 13:1) which all knowledge and prophecy serve" (DDC I, xxxxi,
37.).



Therefore, St. Paul tells us that the greatest of the three
theological virtues is charity, because once we have attained to Eternal life,
faith and hope cease. They are no longer necessary. Charity alone remains.
Therefore it is the greatest of the theological virtues.



St. Augustine notes that, in this life, St. Paul defines
charity as having three essential elements: "The end of the precept is charity
from a pure heart, and a good conscience and faith unfeigned." (1 Tim. 1:5)
Anyone approaching Scripture from truly "charitable" motives and intentions,
needs to have a "pure heart," so that one does not love other "things" but only
the Holy Trinity. They also need a "good conscience" lest a bad conscience lead
to anxiety, guilt and despair, and so alter one's mental state that they
seriously misconstrue the Sacred Texts. Thirdly, they need "faith unfeigned" in
order to see clearly that which is being asserted by the Sacred Author, and not
be blinded or confused by falsehood or affection for "lesser gods." And so by
living and believing rightly, we may justly hope that our understanding of
Sacred Scripture may build on what is already correct and be deepened and
nourished.



St. Augustine's Spiritual Ladder: Seven Steps Mounting To Eternal Wisdom



There are conventional signs which living creatures give
each other by which they attempt to indicate, as far as is possible, what is on
their mind. For men, some signs involve the sense of sight; many the sense of
hearing, and few of any other senses. A nod gives a sign of assent to a person
we wish to share our will with. A referee at a football game will raise both
hands straight in the air over his head to signify a score. These signs are
like visible words. However, among men words have gained a pre-eminence for
expressing thought. Holy Scripture, God's Will for us, is communicated to us
through words. It is God's Word, in man's words. Jesus Himself is the Eternal
Word: "In the beginning was the Word" (Jn. 1:1).



The question then becomes, how do we approach Holy
Scripture? First, St. Augustine tells us, is through fear: "Fear of the Lord is
the beginning of knowledge, wisdom and instruction, which only fools despise"
(Prov. 1:7). It is from fearing God that we first learn to recognize His Will:
what He wants us to do and what He wants us to avoid. This fear should awaken in
us a healthy reflection of our bodily death and possible spiritual death, if we
continue to choose to run away from Him.



Second, fear is tempered by piety, by which we become gentle
and humble. So, when Sacred Scripture attacks some of our faults, or when we
think we know better than God's Word, we need to reflect and realize that what
is written there is more beneficial and reasonable, even if hidden, than what
we could know ourselves. Pride is the enemy here. Since the mind usually
disdains anything it learns easily, those who read superficially and very
quickly, err greatly. Great care and time must put into reading the Sacred
Texts very carefully and slowly. A slow, reflective, deeply meditative approach
will enhance the ability of the Scriptures to penetrate to your heart.



The third step is knowledge, learning to love God for His
own sake and love your neighbor as yourself, for His sake (as previously
discussed). Any careful, thorough, close reading of Scripture should clearly
point out just how far we have become enmeshed in the love of the world and
temporal things. Therefore, it should instill in us a healthy desire to go to
confession to get back to loving God and neighbor, whom we separated from when
we sinned. Scripture should cause us to mourn our sins. We should beg God
through "unceasing prayer" (1 Thess. 5:17) for the consolation of His Divine
Assistance.



This brings us to step four: fortitude: to maintain courage,
no matter what the cost, in our efforts to obtain True Justice--which is giving
God and our fellow men their due, not about getting what I want. In seeking
after justice with unwavering perseverance we withdraw from the deadly pleasure
of passing things, toward the love of the Eternal Things, namely the Holy
Trinity.



The fifth step is the counsel of mercy. As we cleanse our
soul, we can become upset and vexed at its constant craving for lesser things.
Sometimes it seems that the harder we try to be good, the more evil we do. St.
Augustine counsels mercy and kindness in the treatment of your own soul. No one
would walk into a hospital and force a sick person to get completely better 'or
else'. Then neither should we force this straightjacket method on our sickly
soul either. Just like the sick person in the hospital, your soul also needs
time to heal. So, be fair with yourself. Set realistic goals. Sometimes baby
steps or even crawling are needed before one can walk fully erect again. Seek
steady progress, not immediate, absolute perfection, lest you give up in
despair. Also, constantly practicing the true, immediate and vigorous unfeigned
love of neighbor, to the point of perfection, when you can say you truly "love
your enemies"(Mt. 6:12), will help substantially in rooting out one's worst and
most stubborn sins.



The sixth step is one of vision: when we can truly see that
the more we cleanse ourselves of the love of inferior things in this world, the
closer we come to seeing God, "Taste and see how good is the Lord" (Ps. 34:9).
To the extent that we love the world, we do not see God. To the degree that we
die to ourselves, we experience Him more concretely in our daily lives.



The seventh step is wisdom. While we still walk more by
"faith" than by "sight," at this level God so cleanses the heart that we rarely
compare our neighbors or other creatures to Him by choosing these 'lesser gods'
over Him. Moreover, souls will be so holy and on fire with love of God at this
stage, that they will seldom prefer to turn away from the Eternal Truth,
through a desire for pleasing men or self-gratification, no matter what.
"Everyone who acknowledges me before others, I will acknowledge before my
heavenly Father. But whoever denies me before others, I will deny before my
heavenly Father" (Mt. 10:32-33).



As the result of following these seven steps, we should grow
more deeply in our love and devotion to Our Lord. Moreover, these steps are not
mutually exclusive. In other words, one step does not necessarily take place,
while the others remain silent. Many times in one's spiritual journey there is
an overlapping of stages. What is important here is that we recognize what we
are going through, and work with the Sacred Scriptures and these seven steps to
allow our hearts to be opened more deeply and thereby move closer to God.



St. Augustine's Seven Rules to Help Unlock the Hidden
Mysteries of Sacred Scripture




There was a man named Tyconius, who lived during the times
of St. Augustine. He wrote a small book called "On rules" which contained seven
rules that he claimed were like keys: they would unlock all that lay hidden in
the Sacred Scriptures. Since the man was a Donatist (one who erroneously
thought that the validity of a sacrament depended upon the worthiness of the
minister), the rules needed some modification. Moreover, as St. Augustine
strongly notes, no set of rules, no matter how well put together could ever
unlock "all" of Sacred Scripture. Finite man, by definition, cannot possibly
begin to completely understand infinite God. Deus semper major--God is always
more. So, St. Augustine takes the seven rules because they are very helpful and
incorporates them to reflect authentic Catholic teaching.



The first rule is 'about the Lord and His Body.' This rule
applies when the Scriptures are talking about Christ and His Church. Sometimes
there is a change from head to body and/or body to head, without a change in
subject or speaker. For instance, Isaiah 61:10: "Like a bridegroom adorned with
a diadem, like a bride bedecked with her jewels," is the same, single person
speaking. Of course, one metaphor, the "bridegroom" refers to the Head of the
Church, that is Christ, while the other metaphor, the "bride," refers to His
Body, that is, His Church.



The second rule is about good and evil. There are passages
in Scripture where it appears as if the Sacred Author is ascribing the quality
of good and evil to the same person or thing. For instance, the Canticle of
Canticles 1:4, says "I am black but beautiful as the tents of Cedar, and I am
beautiful as the curtain of Solomon." The "tents of Cedar" are a reference to
Ismael, who will not be heir to the Kingdom, "with the son of a free woman."
(Gn 21:10; Gal. 4:30) Yet the "curtain of Solomon" can be seen as referring to a
King of the line of David (which Our Lord was) or the actual curtain in the
sanctuary in the Temple Solomon built. Either way, Scripture appears to be
calling the same person both good and evil at the same time. This can be very
confusing unless we see that the intention in part is to describe the temporal
human condition here on earth. We all have good mixed with bad. G.K. Chesterton
once described a saint as "one who knows they are a sinner." So do all groups.
No one nation is all good, while the other is all evil. No one occupation has
all good people, while another has only bad. Even prostitutes have been known
to become great saints: i.e. St. Mary Magdalen, among countless others.



In another instance, in Isaiah 42:16, God says, "I will lead
the blind on their journey; by paths unknown I will guide them. I will turn
darkness into light before them, and make crooked ways straight. These things I
will do for them, and I will not forsake them." Then God immediately addresses
the evil person(s), without a grammatical shift, or acknowledgement of a new
subject: "They shall be turned back in utter shame . . ." (Is. 42:17). But since
for a time we are all here together, "they" is spoken of as if it is one body
God is addressing. However, when each person's last day arrives, "He will
separate them one from another, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the
goats""(Mt. 26:32).



The third rule is concerning one's understanding of Grace
and how it works. St. Augustine calls it "the Spirit and the letter." Without
going into a detailed analysis of the Theology of Grace, it is important to
remember that "without God you can do nothing." In other words, even the
ability to have faith and do good works would not be in you unless God first
put it there, either through Baptism or Penance. Nor could one continue on
doing good works, unless God gave him the grace and the person responded
positively. In other words, once Grace is given, it is up to the individual to
accept it or reject it, of his own free will. However, he cannot accept it
unless he is predisposed to accept it, which is a gift freely given by God.



The fourth rule is "of species and genus," or, how to
distinguish between the part and the whole in regard to people, places and
things. Scripture can say the word Jerusalem and refer only to that city, the
"species." In other places it may refer to Jerusalem (and/or several other
cities) but really meaning the entire world, the "genus." This can happen in
reference to men too, so that things said about David or St. Peter might exceed
the bounds of a special application to them. For instance, when Our Lord tells
Peter, "You are Peter and upon this rock I will build my Church, etc."
(Mt. 13:16). He not only addresses Peter in that moment, but what He says to
him: "Whatsoever you declare loosed upon earth, is loosed in heaven; and
whatsoever you declare bound on earth is bound in heaven" also applies to all
future Popes.



The fifth rule is "of times," with which intervals of time
hidden in the Scriptures may frequently be discovered. This idea of
understanding the part for the whole or the whole for the part with regard to
time is crucial in determining the amount of days Our Lord spent "in the heart
of the earth" (Mt. 12:40). This method of speaking, by which the whole is
signified by the part, solves a question about the Resurrection of Christ. For,
unless the evening before He died, Holy Thursday; the night He suffered, is
also counted, even though it is not a full day, there is no way to arrive at
the three days Our Lord prophesied about: "Just as Jonah was in the belly of
the whale three days and three nights, so will the Son of Man be in the heart
of the earth three days and three nights" (Mt. 12:40).



The sixth rule is called "recapitulation." Some things are
so described as though they follow each other in the order of time, or as if
they narrate a continuous sequence of events, when suddenly the narrative jumps
to previous events which heretofore had been omitted. For instance, we read in
Genesis 2:8-9: "And there Lord God had planted a paradise of pleasure from the
beginning: wherein he placed man whom he had formed. And the Lord God brought
forth of the ground all manner of trees fair to behold, and pleasant to eat
of." The narrative seems to be suggesting that God brought forth "all manner of
trees" after God had placed man in Paradise. When both things had been
mentioned briefly, that is, that God planted Paradise and placed man whom he
had formed in it, the narrative returns and recapitulates what was passed over
originally. The narrator then adds, "the tree of life also in the midst of
Paradise: and the tree of knowledge of good and evil" (Gn. 2:9) and the rivers
by which Paradise is irrigated and bound by, and all the gold in paradise, all
of which is the creation of Paradise. Once the Sacred Author has completed this
narrative, he repeats what he already said concerning what actually followed:
"And the Lord God took man, and put him into the paradise of pleasure"
(Gn. 2:15). In other words, only after these things were done man was placed
there. These things were not done after man was placed there, as what was first
said may be taken to mean, unless the recapitulation by which it refers to
things omitted earlier is understood by the careful reader.



The seventh rule is about the Devil and his body. Just as the
first rule referred to Our Lord and His Body, it is also necessary to stay
alert to what pertains to the head, the Devil, and what pertains to his body,
the minions of fallen angels. Sometimes when Scripture speaks of the Devil, it
is referring not to the devil himself, but to his body, the minions of fallen
angels. This body is not only made up of those who are obviously "without," (1
Cor. 5:12) but also of those who, although they belong to it, for a time mingle
with the Church until each one of them leaves this life, or until the great
threshing fan "separates the wheat from the chaff" (cf., Lk. 3:17).



Lastly, St. Augustine constantly reminds us to pray to God
for help in understanding Sacred Scripture. For in these books of Holy
Scripture we read: "Pray unceasingly," (1 Thess. 5:17) "because the Lord gives
wisdom: and out of His mouth comes prudence and understanding" (Prov. 2:6).
Praise the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, both now and forever; the God
who is, who was, and is to come at the end of the ages. Amen.



This article originally appeared in the January/February
2000 issue of Catholic Faith magazine.








Related IgnatiusInsight.com Articles:



• The Source of
Certitude | Epilogue to Faith and Certitude | Thomas Dubay, S.M.


• Seeking Deep Conversion | Fr. Thomas Dubay, S.M.

• Benedict and Augustine | Carl E. Olson








Mr. Stephen N. Filippo, MA., SYD., teaches Theology and Philosophy on both the high
school and college level.

"Will Notre Dame, like the tour guide, turn its back to Christ?"

The summer issue of Notre Dame Magazine has a fabulous essay by Dr. John O’Callaghan, an associate professor of philosophy who is the director of the Jacques Maritain Center at Notre Dame. The essay, "Where do you stand?", touches on a number of pressing questions relating to the spiritual, intellectual, and educational life, drawing upon remarks and ideas from Nietzsche, Josef Pieper, and the architecture of Notre Dame itself. A couple of highlights:

One day in class I discussed with my students a passage in which
Nietzsche, the 19th-century German atheist, remarks that in our time,
“our noisy, time-consuming, proud and stupidly proud industriousness
educates and prepares precisely for ‘unbelief’ more than anything else
does.” He goes on to point out that modern times have reduced all of
life to a business or a pleasure, and the problem is that we can’t
figure out whether prayer is a business, a pleasure, or both. One of the
most interesting features of the class discussion was students’ use of
the phrase “make time,” as in “I want to make time for my family” or “I
want to make time for prayer.” With Nietzsche in mind, I asked them why
no one ever speaks of “making time for work” or “making time for the
football game.”

I also asked the students what it would be like not to see oneself as
a kind of lord of time, one who “makes time,” but instead as one who
receives time as a kind of gift. And I asked them to reflect upon how
the way they speak about these issues may make Nietzsche’s point. What
Nietzsche wants us to recognize is that we have lost the notion of
leisure — genuine leisure. Not the leisure that is merely a rest from
our business designed to “recharge our batteries” so we can resume being
industrious, and not leisure for the pursuit of pleasure, but what he
calls “leisure with a good conscience.” This is a kind of leisure that
allows for contemplation.

At Notre Dame this could mean the contemplation of a woman clothed
with the sun at the Grotto, a leisure that does not feel the demands of
time moving the tour along but the gift of time that allows one to stand
at Christ’s feet contemplating what venite ad me omnes requires of one.

That’s why I work at the Grotto and stroll God Quad. In the leisure of my work, I pray more. ...

Nearly everyone, believer and unbeliever alike, will agree that the
task of any university is to pursue truth wherever it may lead. But
since God created all things, redeemed them through his death and
resurrection and calls them back to Himself in the end, how can any
university claim authenticity if it does not pursue that truth? Indeed,
even those people or institutions that deny the truth that God created
all things, or are even just agnostic about it, are not absolved from
pursuing the possibility of its being true, any more than someone who
denies that the world is spherical is absolved from finding out the
truth.

So, to the extent that any university cuts itself off from that
truth, it fails by the standard of what it claims is its essential
mission, to pursue truth wherever it may lead. Nietzsche, for all his
atheism, might say that in shrinking away from God such a university
fears being great — it does not have a “good conscience.”

The truth of Christ, creator and redeemer, gathers all other truths
and the disciplines that study them within its scope. Thus the reason
the University had to grow is not so we could be like everyone else, but
so we could be true to the promise within Notre Dame to embody the
genuine character of a university. Notre Dame had to grow in order to
show the world what a truly great university could be. It had to grow in
order to be a gift of the Church, from the University’s heart in the
center of the campus, to a world badly in need of it.

It matters a great deal whether one is looking to become great, or
whether one is already great and looking to enrich that greatness. Being
committed to Christ and the Church is no guarantee of excellence in the
pursuit of truth, so to be true to itself, Notre Dame has had and must
continue to draw within itself those who are best at pursuing truth in
the various disciplines, even those who are not committed to Christ and
his Church. She cannot live up to her greatness without beckoning them
all to the Christ who says, venite ad me omnes.

And yet, will the intellectual growth of the University obscure from
it the truth that makes it truly great, the truth that sets it free from
subservience to what are often no more than ephemeral academic
fashions? Will Notre Dame, like the tour guide, turn its back to Christ?

Do read the entire article.

Saint Monica's grief and joy

The following is from The Confessions: Saint Augustine of Hippo (Ignatius Critical Editions), translated by Sr. Maria Boulding, O.S.B.:

Monica, grieved, is
consoled by a vision



You stretched out your hand from on
high and pulled my soul out of these murky depths because my mother, who was
faithful to you, was weeping for me more bitterly than ever mothers wept for
the bodily death of their children. In her faith and in the spiritual
discernment she possessed by your gift she regarded me as dead; and you heard
her, O Lord, you heard her and did not scorn those tears of hers which gushed
forth and watered the ground beneath her eyes wherever she prayed. Yes, you did
indeed hear her, for how else can I account for the dream by which you so
comforted her that she agreed to live with me and share my table, under the
same roof? She had initially been reluctant to do so, repelled by my
blasphemous errors, which were loathsome to her. But she dreamt that she was
standing on some kind of wooden ruler, and saw a young man of radiant aspect
coming toward her; he cheerfully laughed at her, whereas she was sorrowful, overwhelmed
with grief. He asked her the reason for her gloom and daily tears, though as
usual his question was intended to teach her, not to elicit information for
himself. She replied that she was mourning my ruin. He then instructed and
admonished her to take good heed and see that where she stood, there also stood
I. This was to reassure her. She took heed, and saw me standing close beside
her on the same rule.



How else could this have happened, if not
because your ears were open to the plea of her heart, O good and all-powerful God,
who care for each of us as though each were the only one, and for all alike
with the same tenderness you show to each?



Another telling point was that when she had related the vision to me, and I had
launched into an attempt to persuade her that she must not give up hope of some
day becoming what I was, she promptly replied, without the slightest hesitation,
“No: I was not told, ‘Where he is, you will be too,’ but, ‘Where you are, he
will be.’ ”  I confess to you, Lord,
that, as my memory serves me—and I have often spoken of this episode—I was more
deeply disturbed by this answer that came from you through my sharp-eyed mother
than by the dream itself. She was not worried by the false interpretation that
had come to me so pat, but saw immediately what needed to be seen, as I had not
done until she spoke. The dream foretold, so long in advance, the joy in store
for this devout woman many years later, and so gave her comfort in her present
anxiety. Nearly nine years were to follow during which I floundered in the mud
of the deep and the darkness of deception, often struggling to
extricate myself but crashing heavily back again. Yet throughout those years my
mother, a chaste, Godfearing, sensible widow of the kind so dear to you, though
more eager in her hope was no less assiduous in her weeping and entreaty, never
at any time ceasing her plangent prayers to you about me. Her pleas found their
way into your presence, but you left me still wrapped around by the fog, and
enveloped in it. (Bk III, Ch 11, 19-20)



Conversion of Augustine and Alypius; Monica’s joy



I closed the book, marking the place
with a finger between the leaves or by some other means, and told Alypius what
had happened. My face was peaceful now. He in return told me what had been
happening to him without my knowledge. He asked to see what I had read: I
showed him, but he looked further than my reading had taken me. I did not know
what followed, but the next verse was, Make room for the person who is weak
in faith. He referred this text to
himself and interpreted it to me. Confirmed by this admonition he associated himself
with my decision and good purpose without any upheaval or delay, for it was
entirely in harmony with his own moral character, which for a long time now had
been far, far better than mine.



We went indoors and told my mother, who was overjoyed. When we related to her
how it had happened she was filled with triumphant delight and blessed you, who
have power to do more than we ask or understand, for she saw that you had
granted her much more in my regard than she had been wont to beg of you in her
wretched, tearful groaning. Many years earlier you had shown her a vision of me
standing on the rule of faith; and now indeed I stood there, no longer seeking
a wife or entertaining any worldly hope, for you had converted me to yourself.
In so doing you had also converted her grief into a joy far more abundant than
she had desired, and much more tender and chaste than she could ever have
looked to find in grandchildren from my flesh. (Bk VIII, Ch 11, 30)  

For more about this edition of The Confessions, visit www.IgnatiusCriticalEditions.com.

Protocols and Theologians

Protocols and Theologians | Russell Shaw | Catholic World Report

What the USCCB's new protocols for reviewing theological works aren't about.

News that the doctrine committee of
the US Conference of Catholic Bishops last year adopted protocols to guide its
procedures and those of its staff set the juices predictably flowing at the National Catholic Reporter. An
overwritten story on the NCR website
let readers know that this particular USCCB committee was “tasked with
enforcing church doctrine.”

Enforcing? How do you do that with
doctrine? This is the way we journalists talk when we don’t like something and
want you not to like it either.

The description of the doctrine
committee on the USCCB website says nothing about enforcing doctrine. The
committee’s main task is providing theological input to other USCCB committees
and staff. In recent years, it has published critiques of books by two women
theologians, Sister Elizabeth Johnson of Fordham and Sister Margaret Farley,
emerita of Yale—but most of its work appears to be of the in-house variety.
(The current chairman is Cardinal Donald Wuerl of Washington. The executive
director is Father Thomas Weinandy, O.F.M. Cap.)

Observers rather more dispassionate
than the National Catholic Reporter see
three questions raised by the protocols flap.

• Why this
fuss about some protocols?

• What difference
does it make what the USCCB doctrine committee says?

• When, if ever,
will academic theologians recognize that bishops face a huge pastoral problem
which theologians of the not-so-distant past helped cause and which most
academic theologians of the present are doing little or nothing to help solve?

Let’s take those questions one by one.

Continue reading at www.CatholicWorldReport.com.

Doctrine, Dissent, and the Eucharist

A Scriptural Reflection on the Readings for August 26, 2012, the Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time | Carl E. Olson

Readings:
Jos 24:1-2a, 15-17, 18b

Ps 34:2-3, 16-17, 18-19, 20-21

Eph 5:21-32 or 5:2a, 25-32

Jn 6:60-69

“Through the centuries,” notes Fr. James T. O’Connor in The Hidden Manna: A Theology of
the Eucharist (Ignatius Press, 2005, 2nd ed.), “the Church has consistently refused to mitigate the shock contained in the words of the Lord at Capernaum.” He explains that “dissent to the Church’s teaching is not only a phenomenon of the twentieth century; it has always existed.” 

Today’s Gospel reading, from the conclusion of John 6, records how dissent from the teachings of Jesus took place in the very first century. This,


revealingly, is the only instance in the Gospels of disciples leaving Jesus over a matter of doctrine.

There is little doubt that St. John, in describing that tense scene, also had in mind Christians of the mid and late first century who struggled to accept the shocking words of the Lord. It is sometimes tempting to think of the early Christians as a homogenous group of loyal heroes and willing martyrs. But they, like those of us living in the twenty-first century, struggled with doubts, fears, and temptations. We all know that polls indicate many Catholics today either doubt or even reject the Church’s teaching that “under the consecrated species of bread and wine Christ himself, living and glorious, is present in a true, real, and substantial manner: his Body and his Blood, with his soul and his divinity” (CCC 1413).

Jesus’ teaching that his followers must eat his flesh and drink his blood is indeed a hard saying. Who can accept it? The answer to this vital question is, simply, every man who accepts God’s gift of faith. Just as baptism and entrance into the kingdom of God comes by being “born of water and the Spirit” (Jn. 3:5), so faith in the mystery of the Eucharist comes from the Spirit and the Father. The Father sent the Son and testified on his behalf (cf. Jn. 5:31-32); the Son sent the Holy Spirit, who also testified on his behalf (cf. Jn. 15:26).

Jesus posed two questions to those struggling with doubts: “Does this shock you?” and “What if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before?” The first question, I think, is somewhat rhetorical in nature. Jesus knew his words were shocking, but he wanted the disciples to know that he meant them to be shocking. He had not misspoken, nor had he resorted to hyperbole.

The second question harkens back to when Jesus first met Nathanael and promised him, “Truly, truly, I say to you, you will see heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of man” (Jn. 1:51). The Ascension helped the disciples comprehend both the Incarnation and the Eucharist, in part because it showed that Jesus’ glorified body is not constrained by normal physical limits. Yes, it is flesh and blood, but it is also glorified and transformed; it is, in short, beyond our comprehension, and we must not force God into a box of materialist assumptions.

There are two other important questions in this reading. After some of the disciples had left, Jesus asked the Apostles: “Do you also want to leave?” Just as Joshua, many centuries before, had asked the people of Israel to renew their covenantal vows and swear allegiance to the Lord, Jesus asked the future leaders of the New Israel, the Church, to show their loyalty and commitment to the Kingdom. It was, without question, a great test of faith. Peter, as he had at Caesarea Philippi (cf. Matt. 16:16-20), spoke for all of them, answering with his own rhetorical question: “Master, to whom shall we go?”

Indeed, to whom? What are the options? The novelist Walker Percy once wrote that when he was ever asked why he became Catholic, “I usually reply, ‘What else is there?’” Who else has the words of eternal life? Who else can give the Spirit and life? Who else has descended from heaven, died on the Cross, rose from the dead, and ascended back to heaven?

(This "Opening the Word" column originally appeared in the August 23, 2009, edition of Our Sunday Visitor newspaper.)

Related IgnatiusInsight.com Articles and Book Excerpts:







• The Eucharist and the Rule of Christ | Fr. James T O'Connor
• The Eucharist:
Source and Summit of Christian Spirituality | Mark Brumley
• The Spirit of the Liturgy page


• For "Many" or For "All"? | From God Is Near Us: The Eucharist, the Heart
of Life | Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger


• Foreword to U.M. Lang's Turning Towards the Lord: Orientation in
Liturgical Prayer | Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger

• Music and Liturgy | From The Spirit of the Liturgy
| Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger


• The Altar and the Direction of Liturgical Prayer | From The Spirit of the Liturgy
| Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger

• Benedict and the Eucharist: On the Apostolic Exhortation, Sacramentum Caritatis | Carl E. Olson

• Abbot Vonier and the Christian Sacrifice | Aidan Nichols, O.P.

• The Meaning and Purpose of the Year of the Eucharist | Carl E. Olson


• The Doctrine (and the Defense) of the Eucharist | Carl E. Olson

• Walking
To Heaven Backward | Interview with Father Jonathan Robinson of the
Oratory


• Rite and Liturgy | Denis Crouan, STD


• The Liturgy Lived: The Divinization of Man | Jean Corbon, OP


• The Mass of Vatican II | Fr. Joseph Fessio, S.J.

The timely story and timeless Confessions of St. Augustine

Tim Drake of National Catholic Register talks with Anthony Ryan, marketing director of Ignatius Press, about the soon-to-be-released film, Restless Heart: The Confessions of Augustine:

The film was originally produced as a two-night television special.
What did Ignatius have to do to the film to adapt it for theater?

These films are often 200 minutes. When we decided to make this a film
that could be released to theaters, we spent a lot of time and money
editing it. We hired a professional Hollywood film editor, John Laus.
Laus is a gifted film editor and a solid Catholic. He loved the project,
and was able to get it down to about 128 minutes. We’re really pleased
with it. It flows well. It’s shot in high definition, and it’s in
English. It’s epic-looking. The producers spent $20 million making this.

Ignatius Press is primarily a book publisher. Why pursue a film project like this?

We’ve already licensed a number of films and released them on DVD. Why
we decided to do this on a bigger level is because we understand the
importance of films for impacting the culture in modern society, and the
importance of evangelizing the culture through the film medium.
Catholics need to get on board with that. The Protestants have done a
better job at that than we have. We decided that if we were ever going
to try to work with groups to bring a movie to theaters, this was the
perfect movie to do it with.

Why with this particular film?

St. Augustine’s story is timeless and well known because of his Confessions.
I think it will impact men especially because the temptations with
which he grappled mightily, and for a long time, are the same
temptations that men of today wrestle with – the temptations of the
world, the devil, and the flesh. St. Augustine had a long spiritual
battle before he was able to overcome these temptations. Men today have
these same struggles against the temptations of the flesh. That’s why
this is a great story for today.

It’s also a story that will appeal to the wider Christian market. Protestants love St. Augustine.

Read the entire interview at NCRegister.com. For more about the film, visit the www.RestlessHeartFilm.com website.

Solidarity, subsidiarity, and principled sanity

Fr. Robert Barron reflects a bit on the relationship between the principles of subsidiarity and solidarity:

Now in Catholic social theory, subsidiarity is balanced by solidarity, which is to say, a keen sense of the common good, of the natural and supernatural connections that bind us to one another, of our responsibility for each other. I vividly remember former New York Governor Mario Cuomo's speech  before the Democratic National Convention in San Francisco in 1984, in the course of which he effectively lampooned the idea that individual self-interest set utterly free would automatically redound to the general welfare.

Catholic social thought does indeed stand athwart such "invisible hand" theorizing. It also recognizes that, always in accord with subsidiarity, sometimes the federal and state governments are the legitimate vehicles by which social solidarity is achieved. Does anyone today, outside of the most extreme circles, really advocate the repeal of Social Security, unemployment compensation, medical benefits for the elderly, food stamp programs, etc.?

Solidarity without subsidiarity can easily devolve into a kind of totalitarianism whereby "justice" is achieved either through outright manipulation and intimidation or through more subtle forms of social engineering. But subsidiarity without solidarity can result in a society marked by rampant individualism, a Gordon Gekko "greed is good" mentality, and an Ayn Rand/Nietzschean "objectivism" that positively celebrates the powerful person's dominance of the weak.

Catholic social theory involves the subtle balancing of these two great principles so as to avoid these two characteristic pitfalls. It does, for example, consistently advocate the free market, entrepreneurial enterprise, profit-making; and it holds out against all forms of Marxism and extreme socialism. But it also insists that the market be circumscribed by clear moral imperatives and that the wealthy realize their sacred obligation to aid the less advantaged. This last point is worth developing.

Good stuff, as always, from Fr. Barron. Another point worth developing is a precise, correct understanding of the common good. The term "common good" is often thrown around as if everyone knows what it means. But I suspect that many Catholics have a poor or incomplete notion of what the common good is—and is not. For instance, the rhetoric of many suggests they think the common good is an end in itself. Or that the common good is primarily about political rights, economic equality, and material well-being. A few weeks ago, I wrote:

Continue reading on the CWR blog.

We Are Not American Catholics. We Are Catholic Americans.

We Are Not American Catholics. We Are Catholic Americans. | Father Augustine Hoa T. Tran | Catholic World Report



Our patriotism is tempered by our faith, and our political decisions are determined by consciences informed by faith.

“We
the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union,
establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide
for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings
of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this
CONSTITUTION for the United States of America.”

My
dear brethren in Christ, the children sitting in these pews, playing in our
parks, and sleeping in their mothers’ wombs, in all their innocence, their
purity of heart, and their childlike faith, are the “posterity” to which this
Preamble to the Constitution is referring. And we are called not just by this
Constitution, but also by our Church, to “secure the blessings of liberty” to
this posterity, a liberty that has slowly been eroding and is in danger of
disappearing. This was why our bishops called for a Fortnight of Freedom this
summer. From June 21 to July 4, you were asked in your parishes to increase
prayer and fasting for religious liberty.

Now,
there are many people in this country who believe that the pulpit is no place
to talk about politics, but, thanks be to God, we are Catholics, and that is
not a Catholic mentality. Our Catechism teaches us, “submission to authority
and co-responsibility for the common good make it morally obligatory to pay
taxes, to exercise the right to vote, and to defend one’s country” (CCC 2240).

I
can guarantee you that no politician would ever cry foul because a priest
preached from the pulpit that one is morally obliged to pay taxes—especially
since the Supreme Court told us this summer that we have a whole new tax now.
In the same vein, no politician should cry foul when a priest preaches from the
pulpit about voting and defending one’s country.

Our
first lady affirmed this very point on June 28. Speaking to members of the
African Methodist Episcopal Church, Michelle Obama said, “And to anyone who
says that church is no place to talk about these issues, you tell them there is
no place better—no place better. Because ultimately, these are not just
political issues—they are moral issues. They’re issues that have to do with
human dignity and human potential, and the future we want for our kids and our
grandkids.” That is precisely the teaching of the Catholic Church; these are
not just political issues, they are not even primarily political issues, they
are first and foremost moral issues, hence the pulpit is exactly the right
place to bring them up.

Now,
consider for a moment what this teaching means.

Continue reading at www.CatholicWorldReport.com.