Carl E. Olson's Blog, page 64
December 27, 2014
The Holy Spirit and the Contemporary Reform of the Catholic Church
Holy Trinity, by Sandro Botticelli (1491-1493).
The Holy Spirit and the Contemporary Reform of the Catholic Church | Rev. Fr. Philip-Michael F. Tangorra, S.T.L. | Homiletic & Pastoral Review
Status Quaestionis
Ecclesia semper reformanda est (The Church is always to be reformed). This phrase originated in the Nadere Reformatiae of the Dutch Reform during the 1600s, and first appeared in the 1674 work, Beschouwinge van Zion (Contemplation of Zion), by Jodocus van Lodenstein, published in Amsterdam. In this phrase, the Reformed Protestant movement offers a sort of examination of conscience for the Church itself, in which it evaluates its effectiveness and ability to lead people to holiness of life. During the 19th century, the Wesley brothers, inadvertent founders of the Methodist Church, founded the Holiness movement as a reform of Anglicanism. The focus of this reform was the activity of the Holy Spirit as anima Ecclesiae (soul of the Church), which is the People of God, and which leads us to perfect holiness, as evident from our witness to the Holy Spirit in our life.
The Catholic Church’s understanding of the Holy Spirit has become of particular interest since the time of Bl. Elena Guerra (1835-1914), who petitioned Pope Leo XIII to provide a clearer and more systematic presentation of the Church’s Magisterium regarding the Holy Spirit. In 1897, he responded with his encyclical letter, Divinum Illud Munus. This encyclical was quite apropos, as it came four years before the birth of Pentecostalism in 1901, when Charles Fox Parham was the first to formulate a comprehensive idea of praying for the manifestation of the Holy Spirit through the reception of charismatic gifts, such as tongues. He hoped, in this way, to recreate in his own day, the apostolic experience as spoken of in the Acts of the Apostles. In 1906, after William Seymour’s experience on Bonnie Brae St. and Azusa St. in Los Angeles, California, Pentecostalism took off with great fervor.
The Catholic Charismatic movement was ignited by the Duquesne University Revival, where, at a birthday party, the Catholic student association prayed for the gifts of the Holy Spirit, and members began to speak in tongues. Even before this, the Catholic Church’s Cursillo movement was recognized by both Popes Pius XI and XII as a Spirit-inspired movement of the laity to consecrate the world. The expression of this role of the laity was later concretized at the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965). In 1986, Pope St. John Paul II wrote the encyclical, Dominum et Vivificantem, which further defined the role of the Holy Spirit as Lord and vivifier of the life of the Church. Previously, the Holy Spirit was, by and large, addressed in theological works of the Papal Magisterium focused on Divine Revelation, such as Spiritus Paraclitus, by Pope Benedict XV, and Divino Afflante Spiritu, by Ven. Pope Pius XII. For this reason, Pope St. John Paul II’s encyclical is so very important, as it is the first since Divinum Illud Munus to explore the subject of the identity and mission of the Holy Spirit.
In 2006, the document, On Becoming a Christian: Insights from Scripture and the Patristic Writings: With Some Contemporary Reflections, was published, the result of an international dialogue between classical Pentecostal churches and the Catholic Church. This document specifically discusses the Holy Spirit in his role regarding his bringing people into the Church, (which Catholics view from a specifically sacramental perspective, for example, concerning baptism and confirmation), as well as that of guiding and sanctifying members to sustain the life of the Church.
Since the beginning of his pontificate, it has been very clear that Pope Francis is most interested in addressing the need (as in every age) for Church reform today. A look at the role of the Holy Spirit in the Catholic Church is a great starting point. Let us to examine what the Church believes regarding: 1) The role of the Holy Spirit to bring people into the Church; and 2) How the Holy Spirit sustains the life of the Church. This will allow us to see how the Holy Spirit engages all the People of God, both clergy and laity, in order to bring about holiness of life for the whole Church. Starting with these two points, we can explore the role of the Holy Spirit in reforming the Catholic Church today.
December 26, 2014
Theosis: The Reason for the Season
Theosis: The Reason for the Season | Carl E. Olson
Note: This piece was originally posted on December 30, 2008. Because it has proven to be fairly popular, it is being reposted, with updated links.
"The Cross of Christ on Calvary stands beside the path of that admirable commercium, of that wonderful self-communication of God to man, which also includes the call to man to share in the divine life by giving himself, and with himself the whole visible world, to God, and like an adopted son to become a sharer in the truth and love which is in God and proceeds from God. It is precisely besides the path of man's eternal election to the dignity of being an adopted child of God that there stands in history the Cross of Christ, the only-begotten Son..." — Pope John Paul II, Dives in Misericordia, 7.5.
"Love of God and love of neighbour are thus inseparable, they form a single commandment. But both live from the love of God who has loved us first. No longer is it a question, then, of a 'commandment' imposed from without and calling for the impossible, but rather of a freely-bestowed experience of love from within, a love which by its very nature must then be shared with others. Love grows through love. Love is 'divine' because it comes from God and unites us to God; through this unifying process it makes us a 'we' which transcends our divisions and makes us one, until in the end God is 'all in all' (1 Cor 15:28)." —Pope Benedict XVI, Deus Caritas Est, 18.
I.
What, really, is the point of Christmas? Why did God become man?
The Catechism of the Catholic Church, in a section titled, "Why did the Word become flesh?" (pars 456-460) provides several complimentary answers: to save us, to show us God's love, and to be a model of holiness. And then, in what I think must be, for many readers, the most surprising and puzzling paragraph in the entire Catechism, there is this:
The Word became flesh to make us "partakers of the divine nature": "For this is why the Word became man, and the Son of God became the Son of man: so that man, by entering into communion with the Word and thus receiving divine sonship, might become a son of God." "For the Son of God became man so that we might become God." "The only-begotten Son of God, wanting to make us sharers in his divinity, assumed our nature, so that he, made man, might make men gods." (par 460)
So that "we might become God"? Surely, a few might think, this is some sort of pantheistic slip of the theological pen, or perhaps a case of good-intentioned but poorly expressed hyperbole. But, of course, it is not. First, whatever problems there might have been in translating the Catechism into English, they had nothing to do with this paragraph. Secondly, the first sentence is from 2 Peter 1:4, and the three subsequent quotes are from, respectively, St. Irenaeus, St. Athanasius, and (gasp!) St. Thomas Aquinas. Finally, there is also the fact that this language of divine sonship—or theosis, also known as deification—is found through the entire Catechism. A couple more representative examples:
Justification consists in both victory over the death caused by sin and a new participation in grace. It brings about filial adoption so that men become Christ's brethren, as Jesus himself called his disciples after his Resurrection: "Go and tell my brethren." We are brethren not by nature, but by the gift of grace, because that adoptive filiation gains us a real share in the life of the only Son, which was fully revealed in his Resurrection. (par 654)
Our justification comes from the grace of God. Grace is favor, the free and undeserved help that God gives us to respond to his call to become children of God, adoptive sons, partakers of the divine nature and of eternal life. (par 1996)
Filial adoption, in making us partakers by grace in the divine nature, can bestow true merit on us as a result of God's gratuitous justice. This is our right by grace, the full right of love, making us "co-heirs" with Christ and worthy of obtaining "the promised inheritance of eternal life." The merits of our good works are gifts of the divine goodness. "Grace has gone before us; now we are given what is due.... Our merits are God's gifts." (par 2009)
The very first paragraph of the Catechism, in fact, asserts that God sent his Son so that in him "and through him, he invites men to become, in the Holy Spirit, his adopted children and thus heirs of his blessed life." God did not become man, in other words, to just be our friend, but so that we could truly and really, by grace, become members of his family, the Church. Christmas is the celebration of God becoming man, but it is also the proclamation that man is now able to be filled with and to share in God's own Trinitarian life.
II.
Several years ago I wrote a short article about theosis in which I stated the following:
This doctrine of divinization reverberated dramatically within my heart and mind. As an evangelical Protestant I had not questioned the doctrines of the Trinity or the Incarnation, but neither had I really seriously contemplated the dynamic between mankind and these two greatest mysteries of the Christian Faith. They were facts and truths, but were not, for me personally, the object of prolonged scrutiny. In a real sense, I had not grasped what this data meant for me beyond believing (rightly so) that God loved me and became man. My mental assent to these facts was undeniable, but there remained a rather static and frozen quality to my intellectual and spiritual life as a Christian.
About this same time I also began reading Karl Adam's classicThe Spirit of Catholicism, in which he writes that "the Church . . . cannot be contented with developing any mere humanity, or perfection of humanity. This is not the object of her work. On the contrary her ideal is to supernaturalize men, to make them like God." He also notes that "the central fact of the glad tidings of Christianity" is that man is called to "participation in the divine life itself." This was stunning language. It seemed so bold and grand, almost a bit arrogant––wasn't this giving too much credit to man? On the contrary, I soon realized that for so long I had giving far too little credit to the Triune God. But didn't it fly in the face of Scripture, which pointed to our unworthiness before the holiness of God? No, it showed how great of salvation we have been called to receive, "For by these He has granted to us His precious and magnificent promises, in order that by them you might become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world by lust" (2 Peter 1:4)
What I soon discovered, in the course of entering the Catholic Church on Easter Vigil, 1997, is that this language and this manner of contemplating salvation is downright foreign to many Catholics. It is disturbing for some and puzzling to others. For me, it made sense of so many passages of Scripture that I had, as an Evangelical, either passed over uneasily or interpreted as being somehow metaphorical or poetic in nature:
See how great a love the Father has bestowed upon us, that we should be called children of God; and such we are. For this reason the world does not know us, because it did not know Him. (1 Jn 3:1)
For the anxious longing of the creation waits eagerly for the revealing of the sons of God. (Rom 8:19)
Well, yes, I thought: of course we are "called" children of God. After all, God loves us and he sent his Son to die for us; in addition, we know that "the one who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him" (1 Jn 4:16). But it was all rather hazy. What I knew with most certainly was what I was saved from: sin and death. What I was saved for, strangely enough, was not nearly as clear. To be good, certainly. To do the right thing, yes. But, frankly, there was something missing in the rather standard Evangelical message of salvation I knew so well.
III.
These somewhat random remarks are inspired, in part, by a November 9, 2008, article in Christianity Today. "Keeping the End in View" was written by James R. Payton, Jr., a professor of history at Redeemer University College in Ancaster, Ontario, and author of Light From the Christian East: An Introduction to the Orthodox Tradition (IVP, 2007). On one hand, Payton's article is an interesting and often helpful introduction for Evangelicals to "the strange yet familiar doctrine of theosis." He puts his finger squarely on the problem I grappled with many years ago:
Sometimes, though, the way we talk about salvation makes it sound like little more than a get-out-of-hell-free card. With our emphasis on what sinners like ourselves are saved from, do we know what we are saved for? Is salvation solely about us and our need to be forgiven and born again, or is there a deeper, God-ward purpose?
He then quotes from Against Heresies by St. Irenaeus—the same quote found in paragraph 460 of the Catechism of the Catholic Church. Later, he writes, "In his mercy, God promised salvation through a deliverer, but for Eastern Orthodoxy, salvation is less about rescue (though it is about that) and more about return. Christ rescues us from our enemies and redeems us to God, so that we get back on the right track to becoming like him." He quotes an Orthodox leader who sums up theosis succinctly: "We become by grace what God is by nature."
This is all well and good. But it was curious to me that no mention was made of the Catholic Church. Nor of any sort of ecclesiology, or the nature of grace, or of the sacraments, all of which are essential to a full and balanced understanding of theosis. Perhaps brevity was the problem as Payton does take up those issues in his book. 
IV.
Unfortunately, although Light from the Christian East contains much good material, it suffers from a generalized and often unfairly negative view of "Western Christianity," which apparently refers to everything from "Roman Catholicism" to Calvinism to fundamentalism. Payton never acknowledges the existence of the many Eastern Catholic Churches and seems unfamiliar with substantial elements of Catholic theology. Sadly, it seems that for Payton nearly anything having to do with the West or Rome is lacking, deficient, or simply wrong.
He claims that "for all their admitted differences from each other, especially the divide between Roman Catholicism and Protestantism ... [Western Christians] nevertheless approach issues from the same mindset, asking the same kinds of questions and coming up with the same kinds of answers." This is remarkable enough on its own, but he then adds: "In the first place, for all the differences between Roman Catholics and Protestants about how a person can be acceptable to God, both approach the question as basically a legal matter—that of a person standing before God in a divine court of law. Both Roman Catholicism and Protestantism look on this issue as the ultimate question with regard to a person's relationship with God."
If such were the case, however, it would be difficult to understand why the Council of Trent focused so intently on the nature and purpose of justification. In other words, put bluntly, if Luther, Calvin, and Co. were correct in saying that justification was indeed juridical and external in nature, why did the Catholic Church so strongly denounce their teachings? If the courtroom is the final model for a Catholic view of justification, why did the Council of Trent use the language of divine sonship and adoption?
By which words, a description of the Justification of the impious is indicated, as being a translation, from that state wherein man is born a child of the first Adam, to the state of grace, and of the adoption of the sons of God, through the second Adam, Jesus Christ, our Saviour. And this translation, since the promulgation of the Gospel, cannot be effected, without the laver of regeneration, or the desire thereof, as it is written; unless a man be born again of water and the Holy Ghost, he cannot enter into the Kingdom of God. (Canon 6, ch. IV).
Whereas classical Protestantism taught that justification is a legal, or forensic, term that indicates man is considered righteous in the eyes of God because of Christ's imputed righteousness, the Council of Trent asserted that justification is the actual translation of man from a state of sin to a state of grace, through the person of Jesus Christ and the sacrament of baptism. "In point of fact," wrote Robert W. Gleason, S.J., in his 1962 study, Grace, "it was this very idea of extrinsic justification that lay at the heart of all the Reformers' negations, and this the council decisively rejected, maintaining that man is justified by a justice which is proper and interior to each one, poured into his soul by the Holy Spirit. ... Justification is not only a genuine remission of sins but a profound interior transformation of man by which he is enriched with the presence of the indwelling God, becomes intrinsically just, a friend and son of God, and the heir to eternal life" (Sheed & Ward, pp. 214, 216).
V.
Differences in language, culture, philosophical influences, and theological emphases resulted in distinctions between Catholicism and Orthodoxy when it came to articulating and expressing beliefs about salvation. "This is a distinction not of opposition," Gleason observed, "but of emphasis only, based on a different philosophical orientation" (p. 223). The bottom line is that theosis was not ignored in the West, even if it was sometimes obscured, as A. N. Williams explained in an exceptional article, "Deification in the Summa theologiae: A Structural Interpretation of the Prima Pars", published in 1997 inThe Thomist:
As Western theology became more systematic in its structure, more propositional in its form, it tended to lose sight of earlier forms of theological exposition. Deification, even in its patristic form, has become virtually invisible to the eyes of modern Westerners because instead of defining deification, or providing a phenomenological description of the deified, the Fathers use a set of cognates for deification that forms a quasi-technical vocabulary. Three of these terms—participation, union, and adoption—function as virtual synonyms for deification. Others, like grace, virtue, and knowledge, denote means or loci of growth in sanctity that are common to all Christian doctrines of sanctification. Another group, light, contemplation, glory, and vision, are found in medieval and modern Western theologies, but tend to be appropriated either to sanctification (light and contemplation) or consummation (glory and vision), rather than denoting the unity of the two, as they do in a doctrine of deification. The status of this last group becomes further complicated by their use in the West primarily within the tradition of mystical and ascetical theology, a position that leaves them largely ignored by modern theologians.
Deification, Williams notes, was the "dominant model of salvation and sanctification in the patristic period, from Ignatius of Antioch to John Damascene, in the West (in the writings of Tertullian and Augustine) as well as in the East." While an interest in and emphasis on the doctrine of deification, or theosis, did decline in the West, Williams argues that the "conventional wisdom" that this decline took place in the Middle Age is mistaken:
Indeed, the doctrine of deification pervades the Summa. If Western readers have failed to notice it, we may conjecture they have done so for two reasons. The first is that it is precisely pervasive and not localized: one finds no question "Whether Human Persons Are Deified?" in the pages of the Summa. Second, Western readers may be unable to see the doctrine simply because they are unfamiliar with it. Because this model of sanctification has been absent from Western theology for so long, Western readers do not recognize either the paradigmatic structure of the doctrine or the language that traditionally conveys it.
Fast forward from St. Thomas a few centuries to the work of Fr. Matthias J. Scheeben (1835-1888), considered one of the finest German Catholic theologians of the nineteenth century. The Catholic Encyclopedia summarily states, "Scheeben was a mystic." It can fairly said that his book, The Mysteries of Christianity (B. Herder Book Co., 1946, 1964; originally published in German in 1865), originally written when Scheeben was only thirty years old, is a profound examination of the realities of deification, adoptive sonship, and grace, especially in relation to the Trinity, the Incarnation, the Church, and the sacraments. It reflects Scheeben's unique combination of prayerful prose, keen knowledge of patristics, and deep love for St. Thomas. In his chapter on "The Real Presence," Scheeben wrote:
Our substantial union with the God-man is an image of the substantial unity between the Son and the Father. Thus our participation in the divine nature and divine life becomes a reproduction of the fellowship in nature and life which the Son of God has with His Father, as their supreme, substantial oneness requires. ... We must be overwhelmed with the fullness of the Godhead; we must be deified. We must share in the glory that the Son has received from the Father; and this is what really takes place through sanctifying grace and the glory in which it culminates. And if the Fathers indicate the deification of man as the goal of the incarnation of God's Son, this must be true in fullest measure with regard to the Eucharist as the continuation of the Incarnation. (pp. 481, 487-88)
In a similar way, the French theologian Fr. Émile Mersch (1890-1940) situated the doctrine of adoptive sonship within the context of ecclesiology. In The Theology of the Mystical Body (B. Herder Book Co., 1952; originally published in French c. 1940), Fr. Mersch drew heavily upon the early Church Fathers, writing:
The Word is united to us in order to unite us to Him and to transform us into what He is, that is, to make us sons of God, not by nature, like Him, but by grace; to stamp us with His form and character of Son. Thus through One, He has taken up His abode in us all. ... This is the great Christian truth: the Son was made man that in Him and through Him, men might be adopted as sons. By our participation in the only-begotten Son we become adopted sons, truly and "physically." This shows clearly that He is the Son in the full sense of the term, that is, by nature. ... As the Fathers repeat so often, we become by grace what Christ is by nature. Christ is the Son by nature, and He is God because He is the Son. The grace we receive ought to make us sons, that is, adopted sons, who are divinized because we are adopted. Our divinization comes from our adoption, and our adoption is no less sublime than our divinization; the excellence of both is derived from that of the sonship of God the Son. ... Thus we men, who used to be afar off, have been made to come near; (172) (Cf. Eph. 2:13.) we who were strangers and outsiders have been brought inside and welcomed as members of the family. (173) (Cf. ibid., 2:19). Such is the superabundant riches of God's grace that is given to us in the bountiful generosity He has toward us in Christ Jesus. (174) (Ibid., 2:7.) He has made us His own beloved children (175) (Ibid., 5:1) by sanctifying us in His well-beloved Son. (176) (Ibid., 1:6.) (pp. 347-8, 372, 374)
Finally, the noted Swiss theologian, Cardinal Charles Journet (1891-1975), penned a popular-level book (with "study-club questions"!), The Meaning of Grace (Deus Books, 1962), in which he wrote:
Jesus is Son 'by nature,' he possesses necessarily the divine nature, by reason of the identity of his being and nature with the being and nature of the Father. We are sons of God 'by adoption,' we possess the divine nature by a free effect of the divine goodness, by a finite participation in the being and infinite nature of God. Jesus is Son of the Father by eternal generation; we are sons of the three Persons of the Trinity by creation and adoption.
VI.
Theosis, deification, and adoptive sonship have received much attention in recent decades from Catholic theologians and scholars. Ressourcement theologians such as Hans Urs von Balthasar, Yves Congar, Henri de Lubac, and Jean Daniélou addressed them in a variety of books and articles. Recent books such as Divine Light: The Theology of Denys the Areopagite, by Dr. William Riordan, and Deification and Grace by Daniel Keating are scholarly studies worthy of attention.
Pope John Paul II's Trinitarian encyclicals—Redemptor Hominis, Dives in Misericordia and Dominum et Vivificantem—often emphasized divine adoption:
For as Saint Paul teaches, "all who are led by the Spirit of God" are "children of God." The filiation of divine adoption is born in man on the basis of the mystery of the Incarnation, therefore through Christ the eternal Son. But the birth, or rebirth, happens when God the Father "sends the Spirit of his Son into our hearts." Then we receive a spirit of adopted sons by which we cry 'Abba, Father!'" Hence the divine filiation planted in the human soul through sanctifying grace is the work of the Holy Spirit. "It is the Spirit himself bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ." Sanctifying grace is the principle and source of man's new life: divine, supernatural life. (Dives in Misericordia, 52.2).
Coming full circle, the Catechism of the Catholic Church refers time and time again to the reality of theosis. "God created the world for the sake of communion with his divine life," it states, "a communion brought about by the 'convocation' of men in Christ, and this 'convocation' is the Church" (par 760). Through the sacraments we are made "children of God, partakers of the divine nature" (par 1692). The foundation of the moral life, the living out of the Christian calling, is found in the theological virtues: faith, hope and love, infused by the Holy Spirit. Those theological virtues "adapt man's faculties for participation in the divine nature" (par 1812). Our prayer to and adoration of the Father is rooted in divine adoption, for "he has caused us to be reborn to his life by adopting us as his children in his only Son" (par 2782).
It is fitting, in speaking of the Catechism and the "reason for the season," to end with this quote, which aptly and beautifully summarizes much of which has been haphazardly presented here:
To become a child in relation to God is the condition for entering the kingdom. For this, we must humble ourselves and become little. Even more: to become "children of God" we must be "born from above" or "born of God". Only when Christ is formed in us will the mystery of Christmas be fulfilled in us. Christmas is the mystery of this "marvellous exchange": "O marvellous exchange! Man's Creator has become man, born of the Virgin. We have been made sharers in the divinity of Christ who humbled himself to share our humanity." (par 526)
Related IgnatiusInsight.com Articles and Book Excerpts:
• The Dignity of the Human Person: Pope John Paul II's Teaching on Divinization in the Trinitarian Encyclicals | Carl E. Olson
• The Liturgy Lived: The Divinization of Man | Jean Corbon, O.P.
• Jean Daniélou and the "Master-Key to Christian Theology" | Carl E. Olson
• Was The Joint Declaration Truly Justified? | An Interview with Dr. Christopher Malloy
• Why Catholicism Makes Protestantism Tick: Louis Bouyer on the Reformation | Mark Brumley
• Are Catholics Born Again? | Mark Brumley
December 24, 2014
Venite adoremus, Dominum!
Detail from "Adoration of the Magi" (1304) by Giotto di Bondone [WikiArt.org]
Venite adoremus, Dominum! | Carl E. Olson | Editorial | Catholic World Report
The real problem, for most people, is not an outright denial of Jesus, but a refusal to worship Jesus—the Son of God, the Incarnate Word
“To worship ourselves is to worship nothing. And the worship of nothing is hell.” — Thomas Merton, Seeds of Contemplation
“The worship of the one God sets man free from turning in on himself, from the slavery of sin and the idolatry of the world.” — Catechism of the Catholic Church, par 2807
For as long as I've been paying close attention to the news, which is now over thirty years, I've seen the same repetitive patterns and tired pieces as Christmas approaches. There are the “Yeah, but” pieces, in which Atheist Bob or Skeptic Sue explains, with a mixture of sullen victimhood and strident pseudo-intellectualism, why the Christmas story is full of historical holes and how the world would be a more moral, rational, and loving place without pious, superstitious tales about God, angels, a Virgin and assorted extras (shepherds, wise men, etc.). Along similar lines, there are usually some pieces about how fewer and fewer Americans believe in the Virgin birth and related “myths”. And there is usually something about how Christmas alienates this or that group of people, many of them “offended” in ways that only those with the most sensitive of post-modern sensibilities can be offended.
This year, there has been a spate of stories about “ten commandments” for atheists and skeptics, the result of a contest among the faith-challenged to “rethink the Ten Commandments” and conjure up “an alternative secular version … for the modern age.” On one hand, it's encouraging that some folks are still aware of the Ten Commandments; on the other hand, it's strange that it took some three thousand years (give or take) for the alternative tablets to descend from a cyber hill of 2800 online submissions. And the winner was: “Be open-minded and be willing to alter your beliefs with new evidence.” I'm pretty certain that was also what Mr. Milam, my ninth grade Earth Science teacher, told us during the first week of class. The lack of divine inspiration seems fairly obvious, based on the evidence at hand (although, of course, I'm open to new evidence, if you can wake me up).
The Ten Commandments, however, are not simply a set of rules, and the first commentment is not just a pious platitude: “I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage. You shall have no other gods before me” (Deut. 5:6-7). This opening, unique commandment contains, in essence, the whole of the Ten Commandments. Other ancient documents of laws and commandments exist, but haven’t had the lasting influence of the Ten Commandments. Why? Because the Decalogue is first and foremost about the revelation of God—who he is, what he commands, and how he relates to man. By condemning the worship of other gods, the true God announces that he alone is one, holy, and deserving of man’s obedience and worship. This duty to God is not separate from man’s obligation to others, but enlightens and guides it.
In commenting on the nature of “other gods,” the Catechism of the Catholic Church discusses superstition, idolatry, divination, atheism, and agnosticism (pars 2110-2128). Every man worships someone or something, for men, remarked St. Jerome, “invariably worship what they like best.” Everyone practices a religion, even if it is the devout denunciation of another religion.
December 23, 2014
Pope Francis the Economist
Pope Francis is greeted by 13 new ambassadors to the Holy See as they present their letters of credential at the Vatican Dec. 18. (CNS photo/L'Osservatore Romano via Reuters)
Pope Francis the Economist | Michael Severance | Catholic World Report
The Pope is not interested in validating the right or left on any specific policy, but rather reminding us of more transcendent principles.
Where, exactly, does Pope Francis stand on economic matters? While the Pontiff’s pronouncements are abundant, they are far less systematic and scholarly than they are pastoral in nature. Thus, we are frequently left wondering what economic science, if any, underpins his pastoral teaching on issues such as wealth disparities, development, job creation, and increased solidarity with the poor.
Is Francis a socialist? Does he trust the free market and its invisible hand to bring about economic flourishing? Neither, really. From a secular standpoint, he actually seems to advocate a little of both. Francis acknowledges the legitimacy of business and entrepreneurship on one hand, but frequently seems to call for more government economic action on the other.
Indeed, sometimes Francis appears to be market-friendly, yet in the same speech or document he follows with a “but” or “so long as.” At other times he can sound like a proponent of government welfare and regulation, while also mentioning the good that private business does in job creation and the role it has in mitigating a culture of dependency. Putting labels aside, Francis is nonetheless quick to talk and write about the economy, especially when it involves human suffering and sin.
Neither party boss nor CEO
Seem confused? You are not alone.
Whatever his economic leanings are, it would be unwise to “spin” the Bishop of Rome’s economically-related pronouncements to satisfy one’s own worldview.
Francis, as the supreme pastoral leader of the world’s largest Christian population, is much more interested, like his predecessors, in getting the anthropology and the moral-theological foundation right, rather than presenting any specific policy prescription or political-economic platform.
He is the pope, after all—not a political party boss or the economically enlightened CEO of Roman Catholicism Incorporated.
As the Holy Father intends not to focus his pastoral attention on any political-economic categories of “left” and “right,” “liberal” and “conservative,” his objective as a spiritual and pastoral leader is to inspire a need for personal conversion and holiness. He is also well aware that public policy prescriptions aiming at the common good of human society will be errant if built on a false anthropology of man and a flawed moral-theological framework.
Contradictory statements on economic matters
A snapshot of Francis’ commentary, including some of very recent date, illustrates just how difficult it is to “frame” him economically.
New: "Dare We Hope 'That All Men Be Saved?'" (2nd edition) by Hans Urs von Balthasar
Now available from Ignatius Press:
Hans Urs von Balthasar (1905-1988) was a Swiss theologian widely regarded as one of the greatest theologians and spiritual writers of modern times. Named a Cardinal by Pope John Paul II, he died shortly before being formally inducted into the College of Cardinals. He wrote over one hundred books, including Prayer, Heart of the World, Mary for Today, Love Alone Is Credible, Mysterium Paschale and his major multi-volume theological works: The Glory of the Lord, Theo-Drama, and Theo-Logic.
When Hollywood Celebrated Christmas and Marriage
A scene from "White Christmas", the top-grossing film of 1954, starring Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney, and Vera-Ellen.
When Hollywood Celebrated Christmas and Marriage | Dr. Paul Kengor | CWR blog
For countless Americans, marriage is no longer the goal, and so the America of "White Christmas" and "It’s a Wonderful Life” is long gone
A few days before Christmas, I checked the schedule for Turner Classic Movies, one of the few TV channels I watch. I was looking for Christmas movies, maybe the 1938 Reginald Owen version of “A Christmas Carol” or something like that—something for the family. I was pleased to find three favorites back-to-back that I’ve seen with my wife and daughters, all nice Christmas romances—and all with a similar happy ending.
The first was “I’ll Be Seeing You” (1944), starring Ginger Rogers and Joseph Cotten, with a smaller role by a charming teenage Shirley Temple. Cotten is a World War II veteran struggling with what we would call post-traumatic stress disorder. Rogers is on Christmas furlough from prison (of all things), unjustly serving time for an accidental death that was purely self-defense. Wonderful as always, Gingers Rogers doesn’t dance or sing in this one (no Fred Astaire), but plays a compelling role. The Rogers and Cotten characters fall in love, with Christmas as the suitably warm and fuzzy back-drop.
The next film on TCM’s offering that day was “Christmas in Connecticut” (1945), starring the great Barbara Stanwyck and the lesser-known Dennis Morgan. Here, too, the guy was wounded in World War II. Stanwyck is a food writer for a home magazine. She is initially confused for a married woman, which (thankfully) she is not, clearing the way for a snowy Christmas romance, replete with the horse-drawn sleigh through the countryside.
The third movie was “Holiday Affair” (1949), with Janet Leigh and Robert Mitchum. Here again, the background is Christmas and World War II, as the Mitchum character, another veteran, pursues Janet Leigh, a single mom who lost her husband in the war. It’s a touching, fun movie, well-written—back when dialogue was more important to moviegoers than non-stop action sequences.
What strikes me about these and other films from Hollywood’s Golden Age are two things:
December 22, 2014
The Spirit of Christmas and the Spirit of Islam
Pope Francis kisses a figurine of the baby Jesus after celebrating Christmas Eve Mass in St. Peter's Basilica at the Vatican Dec. 24, 2013. (CNS photo/Paul Haring)
The Spirit of Christmas and the Spirit of Islam | William Kilpatrick | CWR
How much do Christians and Muslims have in common? Plenty of clues can be found in the celebration of Christmas.
“The man that hath no music in himself/ Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds/ Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils” –William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice
Every year around this time, Ibrahim Hooper, the spokesperson for the Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR), sends out a Christmas message to Christians. The gist of the message is that Christians and Muslims have much in common because “Muslims also love and revere Jesus as one of God’s greatest messengers to mankind.” And to prove it he quotes from chapter 3, verse 45 of the Koran:
Behold! The angels said: “O Mary! God giveth thee glad tidings of a Word from Him. His name will be Jesus Christ, the son of Mary, held in honor in this world and the Hereafter and in (the company of) those nearest to God.
The Catholic authors of Nostra Aetate probably had this verse in mind when they declared that Muslims “revere” Jesus and “honor Mary.” Statements like this, along with the fact that Muslims esteem prophets and martyrs and engage in prayer, fasting, almsgiving, and pilgrimage, are seen by many Catholics as proof that Islam and Christianity are very similar religions. Christians would do well, however, not to take too much comfort in these apparent similarities. Although Christians and Muslims share some similar texts and similar practices, the two faiths are separated by a wide gulf.
A close examination of texts will reveal the chasm, but another way of grasping the crucial differences between Islam and Christianity is to note that the two faiths have a completely different “feel.” When we talk about a “gut feeling” or “getting a feeling” for a new activity, we mean that we understand something in an intuitive, experiential way. It’s one thing to read an instructional manual on tennis, and another thing to play it.
Christmas: A Point of Reference
One way to appreciate the different “feel” of the two religions is to think about Christmas. It means a lot to Christians. They decorate Christmas trees, set up mangers, exchange Christmas cards, sing carols, and celebrate solemn yet joyful liturgies. On the other hand, although Muslims celebrate a number of religious holy days, Christmas is not one of them—which, when you think about it, is a bit strange. Muslims, according to Hooper, “love and revere Jesus,” but they studiously ignore his birthday.
Muslims have the Christmas story (or, at least, a truncated version of it), but they don’t have Christmas. Why? Well, essentially because there’s nothing to celebrate. To Muslims, Jesus is not the redeeming savior of the world, but simply a prophet whose main job, it seems, was to announce the coming of Muhammad.
Not only does Islam lack Christmas, it lacks many of the humanizing elements that we associate with Christmas.
December 21, 2014
"The Mystery of His Nativity"
"Nativity with the Torch/La Nativite a la Torche" by Le Nain brothers (c.1599-c.1648) [WikiArt.org]
"The Mystery of His Nativity" | Fr. James V. Schall, SJ | Catholic World Report
While secular courts deny what is obviously true and call it "law," Christianity joyfully proclaims that Truth can be both known and never exhausted
The phrase “the mystery of His (Christ’s) Nativity” is taken from the Preface of the Masses immediately before Christmas. This wording struck me for several reasons. One has to do with the notion of “mystery”. We actually know quite a lot about the Nativity of Christ. We know the place and the circumstances. We know the parents. We know the names of rulers and emperors around at the time. Much enterprise over the centuries has gone into denying these facts. Why these denials? Clearly, it is because, if those facts are true to careful and responsible investigation, as they are, we cannot maintain that here is just another birth of some unimportant Jewish child during the reign of Caesar Augustus.
Yet, with all the data, we still sense a “mystery”—something more is there.
The more important part of this “mystery” concerning this birth includes the issues of time, place, and circumstances, but it goes beyond them. “Mystery” does not mean something wholly unknown. It means rather knowing actually and accurately, but realizing more is there to be known. Indeed, no “mystery” may be seen by many in these facts of the time and place of Christ’s birth. Yet, they happened “in the fullness of time”, as if to say they involve a plan, an order, an intervention. That a child with a name was born of Jewish parents from Nazareth is intelligible. But in Bethlehem when Palestine was under Roman rule, when the “whole world was at peace”, is that not provocative?
The birth of any child is something of a “mystery”. Why, after all, do any human beings exist in the first place? They do not cause themselves to come to be or to be what they already are. Still, if we look at what is said and handed down about this particular Child, it becomes more complicated, more mysterious. His very name, or one of them, is “Emmanuel”, which means “God with us”. How can “God” be with us? Why would He want to be? The parents are aware that His origins are more than usual. His disciples come to associate Him with the Word of God.
He is “made” flesh. He dwells amongst us. He was from the “beginning”, we are told. In Him all things are “made”. We hear of the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. In the “Four Quartets”, T. S. Eliot wrote: “In my beginning is my end”. How can this be true of all of us unless it be true that the beginning and the end are ordered to each other?
At His birth, Christ’s conception becomes, as it were, public to shepherds, to the world. We wonder about the difference between a child’s initial conception and his birth nine months later.
December 20, 2014
Hail, Mary! Tabernacle of God and the Word!
Detail from "The Cestello Annunciation" (1489) by Sandro Botticelli (WikiArt.org)
A Scriptural Reflection on the Readings for Sunday, December 21, 2014, the Fourth Sunday of Advent | Carl E. Olson
Readings:
• 2 Sm 7:1-5, 8b-12, 14a, 16
• Ps 89:2-3, 4-5, 27, 29
• Rom 16:25-27
• Lk 1:26-38
“Hail! tabernacle of God and the Word. Hail! holy beyond all holy ones. Hail! ark gilded by the Holy Ghost. Hail! unfailing treasure-house of life.”
These words from the ancient Akathist hymn, a great sixth-century song of praise for the mystery of the Incarnation, poetically summarize the Marian themes in today’s readings. The Theotokos—the Mother of God—is the dwelling place of God, the “container of the Uncontainable God,” and “the womb of God enfleshed.”
Many of the early Church fathers spoke of Mary as the new ark of the covenant. “Mary, in whom the Lord himself has just made his dwelling,” the Catechism remarks, “is the daughter of Zion in person, the ark of the covenant, the place where the glory of the Lord dwells” (par. 2676). The ark of the covenant, described in Exodus 25, was a gold-plated wooden chest containing holy objects, including some manna, Aaron’s rod, and a copy of the covenant between God and Israel (Heb. 9:4-5). Its lid, the mercy seat, was made of gold and adorned with two cherubim, representing the throne of God.
For a long time the ark was kept in a mobile tabernacle. Eventually, as we hear in today’s first reading, King David desired to build a permanent house, or temple, for the ark. In responding to David, the Lord made clear that the only one who could build an everlasting house for God is God himself; he promised to eventually “raise up” an heir who would establish an everlasting throne and kingdom.
The raising up of an heir was realized in the coming down of the Son through the mystery of the Incarnation—“the mystery kept secret for long ages,” in the words of Saint Paul. The King of kings and Lord of lords rested within the throne of a womb; the Creator of all things visible was carried, invisible, within the Virgin; the Conqueror of sin and death was kept and concealed within the Blessed Mother.
“Hail! O you who have become a kingly Throne. Hail! O you who carries Him Who carries all! Hail, O Star who manifests the Sun. Hail! O Womb of the Divine Incarnation!”
Mary, created without sin, finding favor with God, and accepting in faith the call of the Lord, became a living, breathing ark of the covenant. “Full of grace, Mary is wholly given over to him who has come to dwell in her and whom she is about to give to the world” (CCC 2676). As God once dwelt in the tabernacle among a nomadic people, he now comes to dwell, through a singular woman, among men—pilgrims journeying toward their heavenly home. “For the first time in the plan of salvation and because his Spirit had prepared her, the Father found the dwelling place where his Son and his Spirit could dwell among men” (CCC 721).
David longed to build a temple and his son Solomon did build the temple, but only God could and did create a sinless, human temple.
Only God, because of his power and love, could become so small and humble so that he might save us. It is God who reaches out, who dwells among man, who becomes flesh and blood for our sake. Nothing, the angel Gabriel explains to the young Jewish virgin, “will be impossible for God.”
“May it be done to me according to your word.” With those words, Mary demonstrated the proper response to God, bursting with quiet faith and trusting reception. Opening herself to God’s word, she was filled with the Word who is God. Filled with the Holy Spirit, she became the throne of God.
"Behold,” exclaims the Akathist hymn, “heaven was brought down to earth when the Word Himself was fully contained in you! Now that I see Him in your womb, taking a servant’s form, I cry out to you in wonder: Hail, O Bride and Maiden ever-pure!” During Christmas we cry out in wonder at the work of God and the faith of his mother.
(This "Opening the Word" column originally appeared in the December 21, 2008, edition of Our Sunday Visitor newspaper.)
Is Catholicism the "Babylon Mystery Religion"?
"The Adoration of the Magi" by Matthias Stom (c.1600-c.1652) [http://commons.wikimedia.org/]
Is Catholicism the "Babylon Mystery Religion"? | Mark P. Shea | CWR
How the story of the Magi sheds plenty of light on the historical soundness of the Gospel of Matthew and how early Christians viewed paganism
As we saw last time in this space, the notion that Christianity is "really" warmed-over paganism is contradicted by the fact—abundantly in evidence not only in the New Testament but in the writings of the Fathers and the liturgy of the Church—that, well, early Christians just don't care much about pagan things, while both the New Testament and the Fathers are positively drowning in the images, words, ideas, thought forms, questions, and concerns of the authors of the Old Testament. Reading the New Testament in the hope of discovering the secret paganism that it is the real root of Christianity is like reading Shakespeare with the undying conviction that sufficient scrutiny will uncover his massive debt to Korean literature: it just ain't gonna happen. The New Testament is obsessed with the Old Testament, not with paganism. It makes reference to paganism only very occasionally, and to pagan literature only a handful of times.
Meanwhile, the New Testament is soaked in Hebraic thought, imagery, poetry, prophecy, law, and wisdom. The early Christians don't care too much about paganism, seeing it as, variously, 1) a dim hunch about things Jews and Christians were privileged to know by revelation from God; 2) a demonic deception; 3) a source of human wisdom, but not divine revelation. For that, they turn with obsessive fascination to what Paul calls "the oracles of God" (Romans 3: Early Christians will turn to it to illustrate a point, as when Paul quoted a Greek poet or two to connect with the Greek locals, just as a stump speaker might mention the local football team in attempting to connect to his audience). In much the same way, even today modern Christians offer punning riffs on current cultural phenomena (“Jesus: He’s the Real Thing,” “Christ: Don’t Leave Earth Without Him,” etc.).
But exactly what these Christians did not do was take passages of Scripture that referred to Jesus and apply them to Apollo or some other pagan deity. Nor did they look to any pagan deity to tell them about Jesus; they knew perfectly well that Jesus could be represented as the Sun of Justice and Light of the World long before Aurelian invented his pagan festival. That’s because early Christians were behaving in a way perfectly consistent with Scripture, becoming “all things to all men” (1 Cor. 9:22), not “holding the form of religion while denying the power of it” (2 Tim. 3:5).
This matters immensely because it bears directly on the first moment the early Catholic Church really did borrow something from pagans. And not just any pagans, mind you, but actual adherents of Babylonian Mystery Religion. And most amazingly, the early Catholics’ decision to do so receives the complete approval of, and even hearty defense by . . . Bible-believing Christians!
We Three Kings of Orient Are /Astrologers Who Traverse Afar
As a young Evangelical, one of the things I routinely heard from critics of Christianity was that “everybody knows” the story of the Magi in Matthew 2 is a pious fiction invented by the Evangelist.
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