Showing posts with label Ecumenical. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ecumenical. Show all posts

Saturday, July 5, 2025

"Thy kingdom come..."

Readings: Isa 66:10-14c; Ps 66:1-7.16.20; Gal 6:14-18; Luke 10:1-2.17-20

God's plan will not be thwarted. His kingdom will come. His will will be done. Not only will God's kingdom only be constituted by those who do God's will, it will be inhabited by those who will what God wills. And so, act in the mighty power of God.

According to Paul, "the kingdom of God is not matter of talk." But neither is it, according to him, merely a matter walk, as it were, "but of power" (1 Cor 4:20). The word "matter" does not appear in the original Greek. Hence, "The kingdom of God not in word but in power" is a more straightforward and, I would say, accurate translation.

What is God's power? Well, God is power. God is power because God is love. This is so because God's very nature is love- agape. Agape is self-giving, self-sacrificing love. God's kingdom is brought about by the power of love, it is love, the kind of love given by the Father in the giving of His Only Begotten Son. To love as Christ loves is the power of the kingdom.

To experience the love of God in Christ is the work of the Holy Spirit. As the apostle insists elsewhere: "the kingdom of God is not a matter of food and drink, but of righteousness, peace, and joy in the holy Spirit" (see Romans 14:17). It is a matter of the heart.

The "Israel of God" to which Paul refers in our reading from Galatians is coextensive with the Jerusalem we heard about in our reading from Isaiah. Both are references to God's kingdom; Paul's in the here and now and Isaiah's, even though in context it is about Israel returning from exile- in the eschatological future.

In our Gospel, Jesus commissions and sends out seventy-two disciples. It is a test of their discipleship, of their apprenticeship with the Master. Seventy-two is the product of 12x6. Seven being the number of completion means six leaves us one short of completion. One way to understand and appropriate this is that God's kingdom will not be complete until the Lord returns. In the meantime, as His disciples, we seek make God's kingdom a present reality.



Let's be clear, the Church, even now, is not coextensive with God's kingdom. This is true even we extend the Church to include all the baptized, many of whom are not Catholic. Indeed, we should extend the Church in that way. We cannot determine the extent of God's kingdom present in the world. As we sing in the beautiful hymn Ubi Caritas- Ubi caritas et amor, ubi caritas, Deus ibi est- "Where charity and love are found, God is there."

Note that the hymn does not give a list activities, In harmony with Sacred Scripture, it is a matter of the heart being conformed to Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit. Caritas, the root of our English word "charity," is the Latin word used to translate agape. As I am writing this, the lyrics to the Rush song "Closer to the Heart" pop into my head. That's how we sail "into destiny."

One's name is not "written in heaven" because one performs mighty deeds in the name of the Lord. You can perform marvelous deeds because your name is written in heaven. Note that Jesus, in our Gospel, "sent" out the seventy-two. He sent them out ahead of Him. Their mission was to prepare His way. Our mission now is no different than the one the Lord sent the seventy-two: to prepare the way of the Lord as we wait in joyful hope for the coming of Savior, Jesus Christ.

At long last, the Church's long season of Ordinary Time, lasting until Advent, has begun. As these readings show, there is nothing ordinary about his (or any) time. So, while it is perfectly alright to spend time relaxing, recuperating, and resting, time is too precious to be killed. Liturgically, "Ordinary" refers to ordering. During this time, time is ordered Sunday by Sunday, Lord's Day by Lord's Day, each one bringing us closer to Jesus' Most Sacred Heart (or leading us farther away?).

Sunday, June 4, 2023

Koinonia: One God, three persons

The end of our second reading is from the conclusion of Saint Paul's Second Letter to the Corinthians. Koinonia is the Greek word translated in the New American Bible as "fellowship." Fellowship is a very weak translation of koinonia. What word would work better, you might ask? Easy. "Communion" is a much better translation.

This word can serve as a link between today's Solemnity and our observance next week of Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ. You see, all this talk of being transformed, of sharing in the divine nature, of being reborn in baptism as children of Father, through Jesus Christ, by the power of the Holy Spirit matters. It isn't, or at least shouldn't be, just a bunch of abstract twaddle. God, who is a tri-unity of persons, is koinonia. The Church, then too, is to be koinonia.

I'll be really honest. I don't think many people, at least in so-called "advanced" countries, experience the Church as kononia. This isn't just sad. It is catastrophic when the Church fails to be what she is meant to be. Because most Catholics tend to prioritize divine unity over God's revealed tri-unity, which really amounts to a kind of material modalism, most Christians remain, in the words of Karl Rahner, "mere monotheists." Mere monotheism has practical consequences. It tends to result in mistaking strict doctrinal conformity with unity. Conformity can't tolerate diversity.

Strictly policed conformity is not unity. Genuine communion, genuine community, real koinonia doesn't just tolerate or accept diversity, it positively requires it! Just look at the filoque, the phrase inserted very late into the Nicene-Constantinopolitan creed that asserts that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father "and the Son" (filoque means "and the Son"). At least for Roman Catholics, acceptance of the filoque is not grounds for not being communion.



Because whether one believes the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son or from the Father only is very fundamental, it usually results in quite different doctrinal and even practical differences. Both are Trinitarian. This is the signicance of hearing what the apostle wrote a few decades after Jesus' resurrection concerning even an very early Christian understanding of God and of the Church.

The essence of koinonia, as our Gospel reading shows is self-sacrificing love. In the New Testament, especially in the Johannine corpus (i.e., the Gospel According to Saint John along with the first, second, and third letters of John), including our Gospel for today, the Greek word agape is used. Just as the essence of koinonia is agape, the essence of agape is kenosis. Kenosis is the ordinary Greek verb for emptying. In this context, it means emptying yourself out of love.

I realize this is a quite dense reflection. But I hope it is not abstract. On the contrary, I hope it is very concrete.

Next Sunday's Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ is not a celebration of the consecrated species. It is a celebration of what our communion makes us: the Body of Christ. Theologically, I am going with the late Jesuit theologian Henri DeLubac. In some of his work in historical theology, DeLubac noted that over several centuries there was a slow reversal in what was meant by Christ's "mystical" body (i.e., corpus mysticum) and his "true" body (i.e., verum Corpus). On this view, the Church in her members is the verum corpus and the mystically transformed bread and wine are the Lord's mystical Body.

Either way, koinonia created by agape made real by kenosis is what it's all about. If not this, then you must content yourself with abstract twaddle.

What I am trying to get across is stated well in our scripture reading for Evening Prayer on this Solemnity:
Strive to preserve the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace: one body and one Spirit, as you were called to one hope of your call; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all (Ephesians 4:3-6- New American Bible translation differs slightly from the one in the Liturgy of the Hours)

Thursday, March 9, 2023

"My portion is God... I will hope in him"

As previously mentioned, I am reading following a program to read the Bible in a year. Which program, you might ask? This one. Apart from the fact that it includes what we Catholics call the deuterocanonical books, there is nothing special about it. I also don't mind sharing that I am using the Jerusalem Bible, a translation I like very much and one I haven't used in far too long. I didn't start right on New Year's Day. Thus far, I have read Genesis, Job, Exodus, and Leviticus. I am currently about two-thirds of the way through the Book of Numbers.

I bring this up not brag. After all, committing to read about three chapters of scripture a day isn't really that big a deal. I bring it up to point out something that people who read the Bible regularly discover over and over. What we discover is that every time you read a passage or a book of the Bible, you discover something that you previously overlooked and you make connections you did not previously make.

Today I experienced the latter: making a connection I have not previously made. The particular verse that served as my prompt was Numbers 18:20. Referring to the Levites, the descendants of Aaron, Israel's priestly tribe, God told Aaron:
You shall have no inheritance in their land, no portion of it among them shall be yours. It is I who will be your portion and your inheritance among the sons of Israel
It is the last sentence that struck me today.

The connection I made was to 1 Peter 2:9-10:
But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a consecrated nation, a people set apart to sing the praises of God who called you of darkness into his wonderful light. Once you not a people at all and now you are the People of God; once you were outside the mercy and now you have been given mercy (Jerusalem Bible- italics in the original)
Indeed, when one considers baptism and confirmation, we explicitly believe, as per the rites, that one so initiated is priest, prophet, and royalty. You see, the priesthood of all the baptized is not some new-fangled idea thought up in the heat of the Reformation. It is a genuine recovery and understanding of the genuinely sacramental nature of these sacred rites.

According to Nicholas Afanasiev, an Orthodox theologian whose work exerted an ennormous influence on the Second Vatican Council, because of confirmation, there are no unordained members of the Church. In English, this prompts a neologism: laics. This term is to go alongside clerics.

While this may be a bit of a digression, I feel inclined to share that yesterday I listened to a conversation between Russell Moore and Rick Warren. A good part of their conversation was dedicated to the Southern Baptist Convention's decision to kick out Saddle Back Church, founded by Warren in 1980. Warren then served as senior pastor there for 43 years.



What led the Southern Baptist Convention to "disaffiliate" Saddle Back was the decision of that body of believers to lay hands on and give the title of "pastor" to women who serve that community in various ways. Even so, the role of lead or senior pastor is still reserved for men. I was utterly fascinated by Warren's explanation of both the decision to include women as "clerics" (though I think Baptists would not use that term) as well as his decision to appeal Saddle Back's disaffiliation at the Southern Baptists' summer convention.

What I found most convincing was Warren's assertion, rooted in scripture- though there is an exegetical question I'd like to ask him about his interpretation of the Great Commission in Matthew 28- was that the Church cannot fulfill Jesus' command to go, make disciples, teach, and baptize with one hand tied behind our back. The one hand that is tied is not fully availing the Church and the world of the gifts of women.

But here is the real connection, rooted in the juxtaposition of the verse from Numbers with the two verses for 1 Peter: because we are a priestly people, it is the Lord who is our inheritance. Therefore, we do not seek the land, or a land. It strikes me as pretty good case against not only Christian nationalism but all forms of Christian dominionism. Is this to say that Christians should disengage, refusing to be full-fledged citizens of the nations in which we live? No!

Saint Justin Martyr's First Apology still serves as a very good exposition on how Christians are to live in the world. In Chapter IX of this work, addressed to the Roman emperor, Justin wrote: "And when you hear that we look for a kingdom, you suppose, without making any inquiry, that we speak of a human kingdom; whereas we speak of that which is with God, as appears also from the confession of their faith made by those who are charged with being Christians... For if we looked for a human kingdom, we should also deny our Christ, that we might not be slain; and we should strive to escape detection, that we might obtain what we expect."

Whether you like Pope Benedict XVI or not, in his first encyclical, Deus Cartias Est, he did a wonderful job of explaining how easy it is to reduce the Gospel in this way and why it is important not to do it.

Someone I follow on Twitter has been piecing together a case for her thesis that both Christian Nationalists and those who seek to politicize the Gospel in the opposite direction are engaging in different forms of Christian dominionism. In other words, people who assert that being a Christian boils down to holding the "correct" political opinions seek to turn the Gospel into something exclusively this-worldly. Even when stated in such a general and unspecific way, given the divisions among Christians, it seems clear that this is a thesis worth exploring.

As a Catholic, I align myself with Catholic Social Teaching. This makes for political difficulties because it is easy to see that neither party is in harmony with convinctions that arise from the magisterium's modern social teaching that started with Leo XIII's Rerum Novarum and finds its most recent expression in Pope Francis' Fratelli Tutti. Politically, I think Christians should be baffling to non-Christians on both the right and the left.

I end by invoking another scriptural verse: "My portion is [God]," says my soul, "and so I will hope in him" (Lamentations 3:24- Jerusalem Bible)

Friday, May 28, 2021

A Lutheran traditio

In May I've missed posting on one Friday and one Sunday. This is not too bad, lest both of readers are wondering. Life is about priorities. While blogging remains a priority for me, it is not in my top five. So, when I experience times when other priorities predominate, I take a pass on posting. I would be lying if I said it didn't bother me a bit. I guess I am more fastidious about things than I care to admit.

Lately, I have been reading a lot by and about Martin Luther. The immediate reason for this was my reading most the chapters of Heidegger’s Black Notebooks and the Future of Theology. No, I didn't purchase the book. At the suggestion of a friend, I borrowed it through an inter-library loan. It was in reading a couple of the opening chapters that I discovered the influence of Luther on the philosophy of Heidegger. This led me to purchase two further books: Luther: An Introduction to His Thought, which is a published series of lectures by Luther scholar Gerhard Ebeling and Reading Heidegger from the Start: Essays in His Earliest Thought. Of particular interest in the latter volume, which is a series of essays edited by Theodore Kisiel and John van Buren, are van Buren's essay "Martin Heidegger, Martin Luther" and Kisiel's contribution, which is an overview of some of the last lectures that comprised Heidegger's course, taught winter semester 1920-1921, entitled Introduction to the Phenomenology of Religion."



As Kisiel notes, the first part of the class, in fact, the bulk of the class, consisted of Heidegger explicating (for the only time) his own phenomenological method. It was not until late in the semester that he taught on the application of his method to Saint Paul's First to the Thessalonians, and chapter X of Saint Augustine's Confessions. What Heidegger wanted to examine was the nature of the primal Christian experience. Of course, 1 Thessalonians is wonderful for this because it is likely the first letter Paul wrote. First Thessalonians, in all likelihood, is the earliest book of the uniquely Christian Scriptures (i.e., the New Testament). No, I am not going to go into Kisiel's explication of Heidegger's lectures on Paul and Augustine. Heidegger's phenomenological analysis of 1 Thessalonians, I will write, is really quite remarkable vis-à-vis getting to the essence of primal Christian experience, which was, without a doubt, shuttled in favor of Hellenistic systematization.

I do want to share some things from Ebeling's lecture on Luther entitled "Letter and Spirit." "The concealment of God on the cross," according to Luther as per Ebeling, "is paralleled by the structure of faith, which consists of concealment under a contrary" (Luther: An Introduction to His Thought, 105). This concealment is what it means to spiritual, which does not mean disembodied, just not obvious and perhaps even seemingly contradictory.

"Salvation," according to Luther, "in so far as it is not affirmation of worldly existence or as the bestowal of temporal goods, but [is] being crucified with Christ, and so possessing life in death" (Luther: An Introduction to His Thought, 105-106). Hence, the "Church is spiritual, as long as it regards itself as hidden in this life, and does not place its trust in earthly instruments of power, but realizes that it must be persecuted, and that the most dangerous temptation is the temptation not to be persecuted but to live in safety" (Ibid., 106).

"The spiritual," then, for Luther, "is the category of true understanding" (Ibid.).
Someone whose existential being is spiritual exists of course in the visible world, but his real existential being is not made manifest. What can be seen exists, but it is the contrary, and not the spiritual life as such. Consequently to live in the Spirit is to live in faith. The Spirit and faith are the same (Ibid.)
I could go on but I won't except to say that, hearkening back to Martin Marty's short biography of Luther, Luther was often dragged into political matters, something he hated by felt obligated to weigh-in. His weighing in on several occasions led him to comprise, something of which he was keenly aware and bothered by.

Luther, of course, composed many hymns. Our traditio for this final Friday of May, our first week back in Ordinary Time after Easter, is Luther's "In the Midst of Earthly Life."



While "Ordinary Time" is okay, I still prefer numbering the Sundays and weeks after Easter as "the Third Sunday After Trinity," etc.

Sunday, November 1, 2020

All Saints: an occasion for ecumenism

This morning I participated in an online ecumenical service that originated in Scotland. Those who led the service were the Moderator of the Church of Scotland, the Anglican Primus (Bishop) of Scotland, and the Roman Catholic Archbishop of St. Andrews-Edinburgh. It was essentially a 15-minute Liturgy of the Word. I can't think of a better worship experience for me this morning. Yes, this includes worshiping live.

And so, today I want to offer to further things on ecumenism. The first is from a very good book I just finished. The book is The Way of St Benedict. The author of this book Rowan Williams. It is one of those books that is a compilation of previous works on the Rule of St. Benedict that is collected in one place. In my view, it is more valuable for that. Practically throughout these works, Williams emphasizes the importance of chapter 4 of the Rule of Saint Benedict. Along with chapter 11, the fourth chapter constitutes something like the core of the rule for those interested in "Benedictine spirituality."



Incidentally, it is in chapter 4 of The Way of St Benedict that Williams takes up ecumenism. The chapter is entitled "From Solitude to Communion: Monastic Virtues and Ecumenical Hopes." What I offer are a few critical insights from this chapter. Towards the beginning of the chapter, he identifies the tension inherent in seeking "to hold together the community life and the vocation to solitude" (55). He then moves, in his seemingly effortless manner, to the fundamental observation that seeking "to hold together what seems like opposites is, of course, grounded in a deeply Christian anthropology" (55). Before moving to the importance of community, Williams points out that it is in solitude that "we allow God to challenge and overcome our individualism" (55). It is "in solitude," he continues, that "we are led to recognize the strength and resilience of our selfishness," which points to how much we "need to let God dissolve the fantasies with which we protect ourselves" (55).

As to the need for community, he summarizes with Tertullian's quote: unus christianus nullus christianus- "no Christian is a Christian alone." Stated more simply, one Christian is no Christian, just as one person is no person. What I mainly wanted to pass along is this:
One of the hardest yet most important lessons the different Christian communities today have to learn is that they cannot live without each other and that no single one of them in isolation possesses the entirety of the gospel. God has used the often-tragic divisions of Christian history in such a way that each community has been permitted to discover new depths in this or that emphasis in doctrine and devotion. And the challenge of the Lord of the Church is that we should recognize this diversity of providential discovery in one another (56)
I'll end with the ending from my November 2008 ecumenical presentation, "What the Catholic Church Learned from the Reformation"-
Tone deaf Catholics puzzle over why Christians would celebrate the split of the Western Church in the sixteenth century. But people who listen and attend grasp that while the split is lamentable and even scandalous, who recognize there is enough blame to go around, what we celebrate on this 500th anniversary of the Reformation is both the commitment to unity and the concrete steps Christians have taken to reconcile with each other and work towards unity. As Catholics, we rejoice that the Church has been diligent in its ecumenical commitment over the past 50+ years. I think much reconciliation has been achieved between Catholics and Protestants. It is on the basis of our reconciliation that we can continue to walk toward the goal unity, the goal of communion
Such a communion can only be unity in diversity, not uniformity, lest the salt lose its savor.

Saturday, October 31, 2020

Reformation Day: a remembrance

In the fall of 2017, I was asked by my bishop to participate in an ecumenical series marking the 500th anniversary of the beginning of the Protestant Reformation. Of course, it makes more sense to speak of reformations, which this series, which included Lutherans, Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Methodists, and Roman Catholics, sought to highlight.

Traditionally, 31 October, All Hallows Eve, is known as Reformation Day. The title of my presentation, which was the last in the series, was entitled What the Catholic Church learned from the Reformation. Today, I am posting the part of my presentation that came after my introduction, which served as my jumping off point for the 5 major lessons the Catholic Church learned as a result of the Reformation.

Poster for our 2017 Observance of the 500th Annversary of the Reformation


Instead of a written reflection on the readings for tomorrow's solemnity, this post will serve as my reflection for All Saints.

_______________________________________________________________

Historical Overview:

The title of my presentation, “What the Catholic Church Learned from the Reformation,” assumes that the Catholic Church has learned things from the Reformation. Some of the lessons were learned rather quickly and others were learned gradually over time. Was the sixteenth century split the only way for the Church to learn, or, as was the case with many things, be reminded, of certain things? I am inclined to say no, but not without some reservations.

Given the state Church found herself in the first quarter of the sixteenth century, a declining state for roughly the previous 200 years, one could make an argument that the unfortunate split was necessary. Being cautious, I would suggest that in the abstract it was not necessary for a schism to happen for the Church to be reformed. The concrete historical circumstances suggest otherwise. After all, it is what happened.

Given those, like Erasmus of Rotterdam and Thomas More, the latter of whom would die as a Catholic martyr during the English Reformation, to name perhaps the two most prominent voices calling for reform, it seems that in the second decade of the sixteenth century the Church arrived at a moment of reckoning. Pope Julius II, who preceded Leo X, the pope who dealt with (and who greatly exacerbated) the crisis precipitated by Martin Luther, was selected as pope, at least in part, due to an oath he swore to call a reforming Church council.

Julius II’s papacy began in 1503 and ended with his death in 1513. Upholding his oath, in 1511 he called the Fifth Lateran Council, which, according to how the Catholic Church numbers ecumenical councils, was the eighteenth council and last one prior to the Reformation.

Acting in accord with the Council of Constance’s decree Frequens, which sought to establish conciliarism (the idea that a properly convened and carried out council trumps the authority of the pope), a position that the Church has since definitively rejected, the so-called conciliabum of Pisa was called in 1511. Five cardinals participated in this gathering. Each cardinal participated either at the behest of the Holy Roman Emperor, Maximilian I and/or the French king, Louis XII.

The involvement of the Holy Roman emperor in the conciliabum is important because it highlights something that would very much come into the play with the split that resulted from Luther’s activity: the tension between the Holy See and the Holy Roman Empire, which traces back to what we discussed in our opening session, namely the political and economic issues that contributed to the Reformation split. All of the cardinals who participated in the conciliabum of Pisa were excommunicated by Julius II.

With a papal bull, promulgated 18 July 1511, Pope Julius II, convoked Lateran V. The council opened in the Spring of 1512. Julius II died in 1513. Giovanni di Lorenzo de’Medici, a member of the powerful de’Medici family of Florence, who took the name Leo X, succeeded Julius, the so-called “Warrior Pope.”. It was during the papacy of Leo X that Lateran V concluded in 1517. Seven months after the council ended, Luther posted his 95 Theses. Suffice it to say, the reforms called for by Lateran V, which Pope Leo did not set about vigorously enacting, were quite modest, falling short of the reform needed.

Much more could and perhaps should be said about the two hundred years leading up to 1517. Bishop Denis Madden, an auxiliary bishop for the Archdiocese of Baltimore, recently summed this up quite well:
It was not out of the blue that [Luther's protest] happened. The society, the church, the way things were being done at that time, called for reform, and there were very few courts of appeal where that reform could begin1
The Council of Trent, which was held between 1545-1563, was the Catholic Church’s immediate response to the Reformation. While there are certainly some reactionary elements in the council’s documents and decrees, this was much more the reforming council the Catholic Church needed.

In my view, it was not until the Second Vatican Council that Catholic Church thoughtfully and thoroughly responded to the Reformation. This is the reason I insisted on putting Pope Paul VI on the promotional poster for this series along with Luther, Calvin, Henry VIII, and John Wesley.

The era between the two councils, which includes another ecumenical council, is known as the Counter-Reformation. The First Vatican Ecumenical Council (Vatican I), which took place in 1870 and was never to brought to a formal conclusion – though this was never publicly used by Pope John XXIII as a rationale for convening the Second Vatican Council (Vatican II) – gave us two dogmas concerning the papacy that have greatly complicated ecumenism with both Protestants and the Orthodox: the immediate and universal jurisdiction of the pope over the whole Church and the better-known dogma of papal infallibility.

As Catholic theologian John Borelli noted: "In many ways, Vatican II was Luther's council."2 The Council, despite a very vocal minority of Catholic who never tire of intra-Christian polemics and are sadly not limited to the Lefevbrist Society of St. Pius X, marked the beginning of the end of the Counter-Reformation. Unitatis redintegratio, the Council's Decree on Ecumenism, begins with these words: "The restoration of unity among all Christians is one of the principal concerns of the Second Vatican Council."3


1 Tom Gjelten, "The Reformation 500 Years Later," National Public Radio, October 27, 2017, accessed 31 October 2020.↩
2 Ibid.↩
3 Second Vatican Council, Unitatis redintegratio [Decree on Ecumenism], sec. 1. Vatican website, November 21, 1964, accessed 31 October 2020.↩

Thursday, November 9, 2017

Religious freedom

In my presentation, What the Catholic Church Learned from the Reformation, I highlighted 5 lessons: "Baptism and the Priesthood of All Believers," "Scripture for Liturgy and Life," "Liturgy: Full, Active, Conscious Participation," "Religious Freedom," and "Indulgences: Pope Paul VI addresses Martin Luther." Today I am posting my brief section on religious freedom.

We’re so used to understanding religious freedom as a human right that the revolutionary nature of the Second Vatican Council’s Declaration on Religious Freedom, Dignatatis humanae is often lost. But the Catholic Church’s recognition of the importance of freedom and the primacy of conscience when it comes to religious belief and practice, is very much a lesson learned as a result of the Reformation. It was a lesson perhaps best articulated by that reformer of the Reformation, John Wesley, about whom Dennis Shaw spoke last week. It is a lesson learned by both Catholics and Protestants as a result of the religious pluralism wrought by the Reformation in Europe.

Wesley’s best articulation of the principles underlying religious freedom were two notable sermons: “A Caution Against Bigotry” and “Catholic Spirit.” Fourteen years prior to his birth in 1703, the Toleration Act, which permitted Protestant communions other than the Church of England to freely gather and worship.1 What Wesley sought to demonstrate is that religious tolerance and the freedom to which it gives rise is part and parcel of being a Christian.

John Wesley


In his “Catholic Spirit” sermon, Wesley noted that religious toleration and freedom are often confused with religious indifferentism. He asserted that nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, he noted that religious toleration and freedom indeed gives rise to many different religious viewpoints and acknowledges that this can be very confusing. Such confusion, he asserted, is a curse, not a blessing. Therefore, a person who has the catholic spirit “does not halt between two opinions, nor vainly endeavor to blend the two into one.”2 In other words, such an environment requires what Pope Francis has dubbed a culture of encounter.

In Dignitatis humanae, the Catholic Church asserted that each person is “bound to seek the truth,” especially as it pertains to God, “to embrace the truth they have come to know, and to hold fast to it.” 3 The Council also declared “that the human person has a right to religious freedom.” 4 According to the decree, religious freedom means being “immune from coercion” by any human power, in such wise that no one is to be forced to act in a manner contrary to his own beliefs, whether privately or publicly, whether alone or in association with others, within due limits.” 5

The Council further declared “that the right to religious freedom has its foundation in the very dignity of the human person as this dignity is known through the revealed word of God and by reason itself.” 6The Council stated unambiguously that “the right of the human person to religious freedom is to be recognized in the constitutional law whereby society is governed and thus it is to become a civil right.” 7

Pope St. John Paul II went so far as to assert that next to the right to life, the most fundamental right a human being possesses is that of religious freedom.



1 Jake Raabe, “What John Wesley Would Say to Bernie Sanders and Diane Feinstein,” Christianity Today, November 8, 2017. http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2017/november-web-only/john-wesley-diversity-bernie-sanders-vought-barrett.html ↩
2 Ibid.↩
3 Second Vatican Council, Dignatatis humanae [Declaration on Religious Freedom], Vatican website, December 7, 1965, sec. 1, accessed November 8, 2017, http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vat-ii_decl_19651207_dignitatis-humanae_en.html ↩
4 Dignatatis humanae, sec. 2↩
5 Ibid.↩
6 Ibid.↩
7 Ibid.

Sunday, October 8, 2017

More on Luther and the Holy See

Whose work informs my views on Luther, his theses and Cardinal Cajetan? Well, that of many scholars both Protestant and Catholic. Most recently, Dr Seymour House, who teaches at Mount Angel Seminary in Oregon, introduced me to the work of Fr. Jared Wicks, SJ. Fr. Wicks's doctoral dissertation, directed by none other than one Joseph Ratzinger, was on Luther. Published back in the 1980s, it was revolutionary for Catholic Reformation scholarship. Here's the best thing I could find on Fr. Wicks to pass along on short notice: "An Interview with Jared Wicks, S.J., Catholic scholar of Luther."

As far as Martin Luther and Cardinal Thomas Cajetan- they encountered each other from 12-18 October 1518 in Augsburg, Germany. Cajetan was sent on a mission: to get the troublesome Augustinian to recant what had been deemed heretical in his 95 Theses and his other public pronouncements, particularly his Sermon on Indulgences and Grace, up until that time. This was not an academic disputatio, but an inquisition. Luther approached it as such, which is to say ready to fight.

Suffice it to say, when it comes to Luther, theological reasoning did not win the day, which was hardly surprising given the politics and the sorry state of the Church at the time. To state that Leo X's interpretation of Luther's teaching as set forth in 41 condemned theses in Exsurge Domine leave something to be desired is merely to re-state a widely held scholarly view. While Exsurge dealt with more of Luther's teachings than those found in his 95 theses, it is not controversial to assert that the bull did not do a good job in of capturing Luther's theological concerns and so did not adequately deal with them. This, in turn, calls into question at least some of the grounds on which he was condemned as a heretic.

Prior to his 95 Theses, Luther had published nothing. This was not usual for professors of the day. The printing press was still relatively new and the printing business would only find its economic footing as the result of Martin Luther's prolific efforts and his deep involvement in the layout and publication of his works. While printers made a lot of money off Luther's writings, as an author he did not.

Between the publication of his theses and his encounter with Cardinal Cajetan, Luther had only published his Sermon on Indulgences and Grace in March 1518. Between October 1518 and the promulgation of Exsurge Domine there was only the disputation in Leipzig at which Luther spoke.

I suppose an example is in order. So, below are the first two of Luther's 95 theses:

When our Lord and Master Jesus Christ said, "Repent" (Mt 4:17), he willed the entire life of believers to be one of repentance

This word cannot be understood as referring to the sacrament of penance, that is, confession and satisfaction, as administered by the clergy

Luther preaching in Wittenberg

In Exurge Domine, Pope Leo X clearly had no problem with thesis 1. Keeping in mind Luther was first and foremost a Bible scholar, who knew Koine Greek and was highly proficient in Hebrew, his assertions in both theses likely seemed reasonable not only to him but some other Catholic theologians of the day as well. But at the very beginning of his Sermon on Indulgences and Grace, Luther, a Biblical humanist who took his cue from St. Bernard of Clairvaux (a must read for anyone who wants to grasp Luther's Catholicism is Franz Posset's Pater Bernhardus: Martin Luther and Bernard of Clairvaux), took the scholastics to task when he stated:
First, you should know that some new teachers, such as the Master of Sentences, St. Thomas [Aquinas], and their disciples, divide [the Sacrament of] Penance into three parts: contrition, confession, and satisfaction. And, although this distinction and opinion of theirs is scarcely or not at all to be found based in Holy Scripture or in the ancient holy Christian teachers, nevertheless we will pass over this for now and speak using their categories
This is what likely led to this condemnation, the fifth one, found in Exsurge Domine:

That there are three parts to penance: contrition, confession, and satisfaction, has no foundation in Sacred Scripture nor in the ancient sacred Christian doctors

In his work On the Babylonian Captivity of the Church, published in October 1520, not only after the promulgation of Exsurge, but after the 60 days the bull gave him to recant, along with Baptism and Eucharist, Luther affirmed Penance as a sacrament. Now, Luther's view as to how the sacrament is efficacious in light of his Sermon certainly prompts questions. But to assert that penance conceived of as contrition, confession, and satisfaction is not scriptural or even all that traditional is not necessarily to deny these elements are consistent with revelation. In fact, Luther did not deny the first two at all. He unequivocally held that one should be sorry for one's sins and confess them. The issue, therefore, became that of satisfaction. Luther's problem with satisfaction arose from how indulgences were sold. Indulgences were marketed as doing away with the need for satisfaction. It is fair to say he also had a problem with how satisfaction was conceived of by the schoolmen: performing good works in order to be forgiven.

By focusing on the importance of contrition for sin, Luther held that being truly sorry for one's sins led one to do good works, that is, pray, fast, and give alms. Here is what Luther said in his Sermon:
No one can defend the position with any passage from Scripture that God’s righteousness desires or demands any punishment or satisfaction from sinners except for their heartfelt and true contrition or conversion alone—with the condition that from that moment on they bear the cross of Christ and practice the aforementioned works (but not as imposed by anyone)
For this Bible scholar, what else could Jesus's call to metanoia mean except to be sorry for one's sins, to have a change of mind and heart, to be contrite and be converted? In essence, what Luther's attempted reform was about was the conversion of Christians, the interior movement of the Spirit as opposed to merely external observances.

It must be admitted that Luther's temperament after Augsburg and Leipzig was such that when challenged he was prone to take his positions to their extremes. One can see this in his disputation with Erasmus concerning Christian freedom.

One might also explore Luther's condemnation in Exsurge (condemnation 2) on the ground that he held infants, after Baptism, still suffered the effects of original sin in light of the Catholic Church's teaching on concupiscence, which also seeks to explain why Christians continue to sin after Baptism.

With that, apart from my remarks for my presentation in November on What the Catholic Church Learned from the Reformation, I have done my due diligence as a Catholic blogger to observe the 500th anniversary of the publication of Luther's 95 Theses.

Luther's 95 theses: the Holy See's reaction

Toward the end of my last post on Luther (see "Luther and fraternal correction of the Pope") I wrote: "Let's be honest, if Leo X had been smart, he would've heeded Cardinal Cajetan's initial assessment of Luther's 95 theses: he found nothing heretical." This prompted someone to post in response a link to Pope Leo X's Exsurge Domine, a papal bull he promulgated on 15 June 1520. In logical terms, posting this as an argument is something of a petitio principii, more commonly known as begging the question. Begging the question refers to assuming the truth of the conclusion of one's argument.

Rather than content myself with a logical refutation, I think it is important to note that in Exsurge Domine, Leo indeed condemned 41 of Luther's 95 theses. Leo did not excommunicate Luther with the promulgation of this bull, however. He gave the Augustinian friar and professor six days to recant. What I find to be somewhere between amusing and annoying is that the response was given as if I had no knowledge of Exsurge Domine. I suppose I should not have assumed all my readers would know that some of Luther's theses were condemned by the Holy See. Given that many Catholics think all 95 theses were condemned, rather than the 43% that were, it is clear I should not have made that assumption.

Cardinal Cajetan examines Martin Luther and his writings in Augsburg, Germany (1518), by Ferdinand Wilhelm Pauwels (1830-1904)


Maybe a more precise way of stating the matter would've been to write: "Let's be honest, if Leo X had been smart, he would've heeded Cardinal Cajetan's initial assessment of Luther's 95 theses: he did not find anything in the theses to be necessarily heretical. Certain questions arose and certain theses needed to be clarified in order to understand what Luther meant."

So, in helping to connect the dots: asking these questions and seeking clarification as to some of Luther's theses would've lent themselves nicely to an academic disputatio, which is what Luther sought in the first place. This should also help clarify what I meant by writing "the Holy See totally tubed its response to Luther..." Responses are thoughtful. Reactions are not.

Between the end of 1517 and the middles of 1520 there was also some political water under the bridge that influenced the Holy See's reaction.

Saturday, October 7, 2017

Luther and fraternal correction of the Pope

The trouble with the meme below, which I've seen plastered all over FB this past week, is that in posting his 95 theses Luther was not issuing a fraternal correction to Pope Leo X. At least with regard to his personal conduct, Leo certainly could've used a correction from an austere monk, which Martin Luther was in 1517. To wit, what Luther did is not analogous to what the "fraternal correctors" of Pope Francis are doing. Luther's initial aim was much more modest. Analogy fail.



Formally, Luther addressed his theses to the local bishop. The local bishop was one Albert of Brandenburg. It was Albert who authorized the sale of indulgences in his dioceses. Dioceses plural, you may ask? Yes. Albert was simultaneously bishop of Magdeburg and archbishop of Mainz. He purchased both these offices, which left him in debt. The chief salesman of indulgences in and around Wittenburg, the Dominican John Tetzel, was in Albert's employ. Albert kept half the proceeds of the sale of indulgences. The other half went to Rome.

What Luther sought by posting his theses was an academic disputatio, which were very common in the universities of the day. He wanted to focus on the sale, dispensing and efficacy of indulgences as well as papal authority (Did it extend beyond the grave? Nope, is the short answer). At this point and for quite a number of years afterward, he did not reject indulgences.

Let's be honest, if Leo X had been smart, he would've heeded Cardinal Cajetan's initial assessment of Luther's 95 theses: he found nothing heretical. There is a lot of gross ignorance among Catholics about how f#$*ed up the Church was at the time of the Reformation. The fact that the Holy See totally tubed its response to Luther is a story Catholics need to learn.

You can keep your Young Pope, I'll take Papa Bergoglio.

Wednesday, October 4, 2017

On the Reformation

Below is my presentation for the first of six evenings we are discussing the Reformation. I gave this as a member of a collaborative panel that included, in addition to myself, clergy members from the Lutheran, Episcopalian, and Methodist communions. The subject the panel addressed was "Socio-Economic Conditions Provoking Religious Reformation." The nature of these discussions is not academic, but popular, pastoral, and ecumenical.

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While it was by no means the only event that led to the split of the Western Church in the sixteenth century, the sale of indulgences can, I think, be identified as the efficient cause of the Reformation. Given that Luther was not excommunicated until 1521 along with his protection by Frederick the Wise, Elector of Saxony, who never converted to the Protestant cause, we can infer that there were other social, economic and political reasons that led to the schisms within the Western Church. It can be credibly argued that Luther’s reaction to the sale of indulgences in Wittenberg was the spark that ignited the accumulating socio-economic tinder.

In the years leading up to 1517, reform of the Church had been a matter of debate and discussion throughout Europe. Given that Europe at this time was a “Christendom,” the corruption of the Church must be considered as one of the main socio-economic factors underlying the Reformation. This assertion does not mean the Reformation was primarily, let alone exclusively, the result of theological disputes. Two of the most prominent exponents of Church reform in the first quarter of the sixteenth century were Erasmus of Rotterdam, who famously engaged in public debate with Luther, and Thomas More of England. More is best known, however, for dying as a Catholic martyr under Henry VIII. Prior to the English Reformation, More was a public critic of the Church and a proponent of major ecclesiastical reforms.

Upon his selection as pope in 1503, Julius II swore an oath to convoke a reforming Church council. In 1512, he called the Fifth Lateran Council. He died in 1513. The Council continued under his successor, Leo X. Leo was a member of the powerful de ‘Medici family of Florence. It was Pope Leo X who said about becoming Pontiff: “Let us enjoy the papacy which God has chosen to give us.” In other words, he bore none of the hallmarks of a pope willing to make the needed reforms. The council concluded in 1517. Leo X died in 1521, but not before excommunicating Luther.

Pope Leo X

The Church Leo inherited from his predecessor made it so that he needed to constantly raise revenue. In addition to finishing the new St. Peter’s Basilica, there were wars with France, which required men for papal armies. Like his predecessor, who patronized Michelangelo among other well-known artists, Leo was a lavish patron of the arts. In addition to wars with France, there was the Turkish threat to Christian Europe. Pope Leo was created a cardinal of the Holy Roman Church at age 13. He lived the Renaissance high life. It is worth noting that his papal inauguration cost 100,000 ducats, which is estimated to be about one-seventh of the Holy See’s treasury at the time. His extravagant lifestyle, in addition to the wars and the construction of the new St. Peter’s Basilica, put a lot of pressure on Rome’s finances. At one point, Leo had to borrow money from bankers, who charged him an estimated 40% interest. Selling church offices was one way he raised money. In 1517 alone, Leo X created 30 new cardinals, all of whom paid princely sums to be Princes of the Church. This is believed to have netted around $500,000 ducats.

Archbishop Albert of Brandenburg, who simultaneously held the see of Magdeburg and the metropolitan see of Mainz, and to whom Luther addressed his 95 theses, acquired both episcopal offices by paying handsomely for them, leaving him in debt. It was Albert who authorized the selling of indulgences in Wittenberg and environs. Half of the funds obtained by selling indulgences were sent to Rome and Albert kept half for himself. John Tetzel was in the employ of Albert.

Some of the decrees of the Fifth Lateran Council that have bearing on the socio-economic conditions underlying the Reformation were the sanctioning of something called the monti di pietà, which were highly controversial ecclesiastical payday lender establishments that provided loans to the needy; dealing with the relatively new invention, the printing press (the internet of its day, despite the printing business’s shaky start), which was making books widely available, requiring the local bishop to grant permission before a new book was printed (beginning of the current system of issuing nihil obstats and the office of censor liborum); confirmed the Concordat of Bologna- an agreement between the Holy See and the Kingdom of France, by which the French king agreed to the abrogation of the Pragmatic Sanction of Bourges, issued in 1438, which, among other things, called for a General Council with an authority greater than the pope’s (the rise of Gallicanism- a specifically French form of conciliarism, which persisted until Vatican I in 1870); the Concordat of Bologna allowed the Holy See to collect all the income that the Church made in France, it also permitted the King of France to tithe the clergy; called for a Crusade against the Turks, to be funded by three years of increased taxes and would have required troops from the independent kingdoms and from the principalities that constituted the Holy Roman Empire.

Despite the council, the papacy’s power continued to diminish as France, Spain and England asserted themselves as kingdoms, or, in more modern parlance, nascent nation-states, seeking increased independence from the Church. The internal politics of the Holy Empire also tended to undermine papal authority and made levies on these entities a cause of political resentment. Luther’s protest against the sale of indulgences consolidated these resentments. Last but certainly not least among the socio-economic factors contributing to the Reformation was the chaos and uncertainty that resulted from outbreaks of the Black Death.

Saturday, July 16, 2016

A string of thoughts on perplexing matters

I am always thinking and re-thinking matters. Like everyone else, trying, in my own limited way, to make sense of the world in order to live in it in a constructive way and, if I many be so bold, attempt to be happy while doing what I understand to be God's will. I feel that what I wrote about mercy (see "Let Mercy Lead"), while I reaffirm all of it, needs something else to balance it. It seems to me that one of the things our society clearly lacks is the ability to appropriately respond to evil. For one thing, as with the Orlando shootings, instead of pinning blame on the murderer, who was apparently about as messed up as a person can be, "conservative' Christians, of which he was not one by a long shot, bore the brunt of the blame in the aftermath. It's often the case that we simply fail to recognize evil, or refuse to call it what is (i.e., "jihadist Islam"- a form of violent Islamism that cannot be equated with the whole of Islam, but must be identified in order to be combated), lest we label anyone as being evil in the belief that evil is as evil does.

All of this hinders the proclamation of the Gospel. Increasingly it is difficult to denounce sin and invite people to repent. This ties back to something I wrote in my post on mercy: When people come realize how messed up they are and realize that they can't fix themselves, even if a person is resolved to be better, to do better, to live better, due to their skepticism about there being a merciful Savior who bore the weight of their sins and took away the eternal punishment due their sin, they still feel the guilt for past offenses, which often hinders their ability to turn over a new leaf. Due to this, they're skeptical that they can cooperate with what God is doing through Christ in setting world aright through penance, reparations, and seeking indulgences, etc.

It’s also easy to take to some form of activism. Let’s be honest, for most of us, our activism usually consists of several posts on social media, or some over-the-top, frustration-driven comments to family, friends, or co-workers and/or a blog post. If you follow the logic that doing anything is better than doing nothing, then activism of some kind is bound to follow. Is this to say we shouldn’t be concerned about justice? No! We should be very concerned with justice and with peace, as well as liberty. These concerns may lead us to speak up and speak out. We should do so in a calm, clear, and charitable way. But activism in and of itself usually proves futile and can still leave us feeling powerless and exposed, if not much more angry. Anger, while sometimes justified, is not a solution to anything at the end of day. All too easily, anger leads to hate and hate, as we see far too often, can lead to violence. We need avoid the risk of perpetuating the cycle.

One of the reasons I dedicated so many blog posts last year on universalism (see "Seeking clarity about heaven and hell", "What does the Church teach about hell?", and "One More Thought on Universalism") is that presumption-driven universalism is contrary to the Gospel. When the Church fails to properly form consciences there will be judgment, which is why James says everyone should not aspire to be a teacher (James 3:1). While I think they overdo God's judgment sometimes, I continue to read a number of Reformed blogs, like Erik Raymond's Ordinary Pastor. It's interesting to note that Raymond was raised Catholic in Massachusetts. After converting to Reformed Protestantism while serving in the Air Force, he now pastors a Reformed church he helped to plant in Omaha, Emmaus Bible Church. I am apply a lot of what Erik writes.

I also like Rosaria Butterfield, who was also raised rather devoutly Catholic. Sadly, according to her autobiographical The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert, she bailed on the Church as a teenager when, shortly after her confirmation, she learned one of her best friends was having sex with one of the priests at their parish. After a number of years as a well-respected post-modern, feminist academic and living openly as lesbian, she, too, converted to Reformed Protestantism. It was Rosaria who reminded me of the importance of remaining immersed in Scripture. While the so-called young, reformed, and restless come in for a lot of criticism on a number of things, when it comes to politics, while not remaining silent on important, fundamental matters, like most life issues and even race relations, they don't let themselves bog down, they seem to grasp that politics are provisional. Instead, they tend to stick with preaching the Gospel as they understand it.



In all honesty, if I was a slightly less well-educated Catholic and not so suspicious about serious Calvinism's narrow conception of God's election, I sometimes think I could easily slip over to that side. In the end, I am more Lutheran than Calvinist. I don't find whatever Lutheran tendencies I have at odds with being Catholic. Like Giussani, being Catholic for me is the way I maintain the tension between Orthodoxy and Protestantism. My Lutheranism begins with a healthy assessment of my status before God and a recognition of the evil in my own heart, even after baptism I remain simul justus et peccator. But I reject forensic justification and, as a result, I have a different view of how God sanctifies us.

While it is never my place to judge the state of another person's soul, it is important for us all to remember that we will answer for ourselves someday. What we do with our lives matters. But fear of judgment should not be what drives us. Rather, we should be driven by love of God and neighbor. While God is mercy, he is also justice. We're not sinners in the hand of an angry God, we're sinners in the hand of a merciful and wholly just God. These days I find myself wondering what saints, what signs and wonders, God will send to remind us of this. All of this reminds me of how well C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien dealt with these matters in their imaginative writings. But this is likely due to the fact I am currently reading Joseph Loconte's A Hobbit, a Wardrobe and a Great War, a book I recommend highly.

Oddly enough, Lonconte, too, is another person who slowly rejected the Catholicism in which he was born and raised and has become a committed Protestant. He also wrote a book on John Locke, God, Locke, and Liberty: The Struggle for Religious Freedom in the West, I'd like to read. One of the points Loconte makes over and again, a point that did not originate with him and he is not the only one who makes it, is that liberal democracy, such as we have throughout the Western world, requires an underlying conservatism, which I take to be an understanding of what it is required for liberal democracy to work and for people flourish living in liberal democratic societies. Of course, critics of the liberal democratic state often and rather convincingly point out that there is nothing inherent in liberal democratic constructs that guarantee the required underlying conservatism. Chief among the features of this underlying conservatism is the very often neglected, when not ignored, principle of subsidiarity. This brings us to the rather uncomfortable reality of the importance of faith, perhaps a unique form of Christian faith and the values that arise directly from it, for such a form of government to succeed. Articulating the relationship between the Church and the state is another complex and highly contested matter. Separation of Church and state can easily lead to the Church being wholly subordinated to the state, which is why, as Pope St. John Paul II noted, after the right to life the next most important human right is religious liberty. Such an arrangement, at least one in which the importance of religious liberty is recognized, can also free the Church to exercise its prophetic role in society.

In light of this many worry about the collapse of Christianity in the United States. It is a valid concern. According Ed Stetzer, a Christian researcher (see "Churches in America- Part 3"), the Christian demographics that are collapsing are cultural and congregational Christians. The former don't typically go church, at least not regularly and consistently, and the latter have done so, not as a matter of faith and conviction but out of a kind of inertia.

According to Stetzer, convictional Christians today make up as much of the population, roughly 25%, as they ever have. That's nearly 81 million people. As anyone cognizant of these matters would be quick to point out, 81 million convicted Christians by no means comprise a political monolith. This is as true among Evangelicals and among Catholics as it is between Catholics and Evangelicals. By now it goes without saying that Western civilization is in crisis. By crisis I mean a time when difficult and important decisions must be made. It seems clear with the Brexit, with the Republicans choice of Trump and Sanders fairly successful insurgent campaign, as well as with similar challenges to long standing parties in Europe, that in many quarters people are ready for serious change, not necessarily revolutionary change, but comprehensive and radical (in the true sense of the word, returning to the root) reform.

Like many, I am torn between the left and the right. When it comes to economic matters, international affairs, and what we typically refer to as social issues I think there needs to be some rapprochement, or a popular electoral uprising that insists on one. In the U.S. we seem content, in light of our on-going failures, to remain bellicose. Instead of learning the lessons of Iraq, we seem to keep making the same mistakes in Libya, Syria, and elsewhere. Nobody will ever convince me that the phenomenon of ISIS would've happened without us making these blunders. But then ISIS helps us to remain perpetually at war, something Orwell warned about. There can be little doubt we have a rigged economy that results from our elected officials being in the pocket of big business and international corporations by-and-large having their way in the world. On the other hand, our intent to undermine marriage, to deny our femininity and masculinity, and to consider sexual liberty the highest echelon of human rights, also takes its toll, not least of which because it attempts to force all of us live a lie. Then there is our increasing indifference to human life from abortion, to the death penalty, to assisted suicide (the word "assisted" being key, its an effort to make others complicit in something intrinsically evil), to euthanasia. If you truly believe that human beings are created in the image of God, then I cannot see how you can glibly reverse the fundamental axiom that essence precedes existence without reaping the whirlwind.

We need to become far more familiar with the common good and what constitutes it. But we should not confuse it with the utilitarian concept that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. As we read in the Catechism: "In keeping with the social nature of man, the good of each individual is necessarily related to the common good, which in turn can be defined only in reference to the human person" (par. 1905). If you want to know more about the common good, I encourage you to read the Catechism of the Catholic Church 1905-1912.

Sunday, March 27, 2016

Religion vs. relationship

Most of the time when Protestants, usually of the Evangelical variety, talk about rejecting religion in favor of a personal relationship with Christ, Roman Catholics have no idea what they are talking about. In the first instance, the confusion stems from the fact that "religion" is a complex term, it is equivocal instead of univocal. A univocal word is a word that possesses only one, fixed meaning. By contrast, an equivocal word has a variety of meanings. Without a doubt the word "religion" is equivocal.

It's important to act in good faith by granting the person seeking to draw a contrast between religion and relationship the benefit of the doubt. One does so by understanding that, at root, a person who speaks of rejecting religion in favor of a personal relationship with Christ is talking about rejecting empty ritualism and having things imposed on them from without. In other words, they emphasize experience, which is always personal, and inner conversion. Insofar as that is what such a person means, I agree with them, but not only does that not make me a Protestant - though I make no bones about identifying as an Evangelical in the healthiest and fullest sense of that term- it makes me very Catholic. It makes me Catholic because it enables me embrace the both/and. In my experience, it is often the case that the healthy impulse often becomes exaggerated and leads to a false dilemma- either religion or relationship, which dilemma leads to privatizing Christian faith.

What makes the exaggerated pitting of religion against relationship a false dilemma is that it not only leads to a faulty and deficient ecclesiology, but to a non-existent ecclesiology. This lack of an identifiable ecclesiology arises from a mono-Christic theology, which replaces a full-blown Trinitarian theology. After all, God, who is Father, Son, and Spirit, is a communion of divine persons. The Church, at least in its essential and ultimate form is the communio sanctorum (i.e., the communion of holy people and things). The false dilemma between religion and relationship turns God and we into Jesus and me.

Resurrection, by Pietro Perugino, 1496, part of the artist's Polyptych of St. Peter


Recently I've been reading and re-reading Luigi Giussani's At the Origin of the Christian Claim. Today, backing up once again to the beginning of the book, I re-read a blurb that appears on the very first page of the English-language paperback edition. No author is identified for this abstract of the work. It was reading this that prompted me to write what I wrote above. It states that in his book,
Giussani argues that if we accept the hypothesis that the mystery entered the realm of human experience and spoke in human terms, the relationship between the individual and God is no longer based on a moral, imaginative, or aesthetic human effort but instead on coming upon an event in one's life. Thus the religious method is overturned by Christ: in Christianity it is no longer the person who seeks to know the mystery but the mystery that makes himself known by entering history (i)
I think this expresses what is at the root of making the distinction between religion and relationship before the exaggeration occurs. This brief summary also leads to a robust ecclesiology, especially when we consider the Christian event did not last for only 30+ years more than 2,000 years ago, but is on-going.

Whether people realize it or not, whether they like it or not, it is just what Giussani highlights here that Pope Francis is trying foster. Let's call it Christian maturity.

Sunday, September 27, 2015

There is power in the name of Jesus

Readings: Num 11:25-29; Ps 19:8.10.12-14; James 5:1-6; Mark 9:38-43.45.47-48

There is a great temptation when preaching or commenting on today's Gospel to say or write something that is religiously indifferent, to imply or even insist that, in the end, it really doesn't matter, just do good things. While I think there are some ecumenical implications in Jesus' response to the man casting out demons in His name in today's Gospel, I don't think there is anything in the least indifferent in what Jesus' conveyed to John in light of the beloved apostle's complaint.

Think about casting out demons in the name of Jesus: it was something the Twelve failed to do in a previous passage from Mark chapter 9. After coming down the mountain from His Transfiguration with Peter, James, and John, Jesus encounters His disciples arguing with the scribes. Upon seeing Jesus, the whole crowd, which had gathered for the dispute, ran to Him. He asks His disciples, "What are you arguing about with them?" Before His disciples had the chance to answer, a man from the crowd told Jesus, "Teacher, I have brought to you my son possessed by a mute spirit. Wherever it seizes him, it throws him down; he foams at the mouth, grinds his teeth, and becomes rigid. I asked your disciples to drive it out, but they were unable to do so" (Mark 9:17-18). Jesus then cast out the demon from the afflicted boy. Afterwards, when the Twelve were alone with Him, they asked the Lord, "Why could we not drive it out?" To which He replied, "This kind can only come out through prayer." Some manuscripts add "and fasting" after the word "prayer".

Perhaps what the disciples find so vexing about seeing a man who did not belong to their group casting demons in the name of Jesus (this is important) was it highlighted their failure to do so in the previous incident. My friends, there is power in the name of Jesus. It is a power given us in Baptism, in and through which you were constituted as a member of God's priestly, prophetic, and royal people. Too often we fail to recognize and so fail to leverage the power given us in this fundamental sacrament. As Catholics we recognize the Christianity of all who have been validly baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. When baptized Christians seek to come into full communion with the Church we do not re-baptize them. In fact, it's important that we don't!

Just yesterday I read a wonderful article by Fr Robert Hart in Touchstone magazine on what all Christian clergy can learn from the life, ministry, and preaching of Dr Billy Graham Billy: "Graham is a Baptist, and very clearly of the best in the Baptist tradition. But he has had ecumenical appeal and been admired by Christians from all denominations. A friend of Pope John Paul II in later years, and of many well-known figures in Anglicanism and various other Protestant denominations, he really did preach 'mere Christianity.'"

In the Second Vatican Council's decree on ecumenism (i.e., the relations between Catholic and non-Catholic Christians), Unitatis reintegratio, the Council fathers asserted,
For men who believe in Christ and have been truly baptized are in communion with the Catholic Church even though this communion is imperfect. The differences that exist in varying degrees between them and the Catholic Church - whether in doctrine and sometimes in discipline, or concerning the structure of the Church - do indeed create many obstacles, sometimes serious ones, to full ecclesiastical communion. The ecumenical movement is striving to overcome these obstacles. But even in spite of them it remains true that all who have been justified by faith in Baptism are members of Christ's body, and have a right to be called Christian, and so are correctly accepted as brothers by the children of the Catholic Church (par 3)
Constituted by Baptism as God's people we can apply the words of Moses: "If only all the people of the LORD were prophets! If only the LORD would bestow his spirit on them" (Num 11:29).

Jesus casting out demons

In what Jesus teaches in today's Gospel with reference to our second reading from the the Letter of James, we see that acting in the name of Jesus is not limited to spectacular things, like casting out demons. Acting in the name of Jesus more frequently takes the form of serving those in need. In his encyclical letter Deus caritas est, Pope Benedict XVI put it this way:
The Spirit is also the energy which transforms the heart of the ecclesial community, so that it becomes a witness before the world to the love of the Father, who wishes to make humanity a single family in his Son. The entire activity of the Church is an expression of a love that seeks the integral good of man: it seeks his evangelization through Word and Sacrament, an undertaking that is often heroic in the way it is acted out in history; and it seeks to promote man in the various arenas of life and human activity. Love is therefore the service that the Church carries out in order to attend constantly to man's sufferings and his needs, including material needs (par 19)
Indeed, they will know that we are Christians, that we belong to Christ, that we follow Christ, by our love made manifest in service to those in need. Jesus also points out that any one who does good to us because we belong to Him "will surely not lose his reward" (Mark 9:41).

We live life with our bodies. We are not spirits trapped in bodies awaiting release or liberation, but fulfillment and satisfaction, which will come for the saints in the resurrection. This is something God's Incarnation in Christ Jesus shows in the most profound way imaginable. While sin may originate in our hearts, we do what is wrong, what does not lead to our flourishing or flourishing of others, with our bodies. Jesus' stark warning about the seriousness of sin and its eternal consequences cannot be ignored. In this passage our Lord uses what is called hyperbole. To employ hyperbole is to exaggerate for effect in order to make a point. Jesus' here is not literally calling on us to maim ourselves for the sake of purity in order to go to heaven. After all, we don't see the Twelve, whose sins and failings are made manifest throughout the Gospels, maiming themselves. But seeking to mortify, that is, kill our sinful habits and tendencies is something Christians have done for 2,000 years.

Sin is the mortal disease of the soul, as Jesus clearly tells us in this passage from St Mark. About Dr Graham's manner of life, even when on the road, Fr Hart observed, "He was humble enough to see himself as inherently no better than other men, as a sinner who needed, for his own sake, to remain focused on Jesus Christ." Mortification, rightly practiced, enables us to overcome temptations to sin by inducing the will to accept hardships, however great. Mortifying practices, like all spiritual disciplines, are not ends in themselves, but means to an end. The end is being one with God in Christ through the Spirit. So, we need to remain always focused on Jesus Christ, keeping the Lord between us and circumstances and not allowing circumstances to obscure our focus on Him.

Seeking to put life's hardships, large and small, in the Lord's service is what gave rise to the Catholic phrase "offer it up." Sadly, these days, this phrase is almost always used in jest in response to some minor complaint uttered out loud. But the reality is, we can offer up our sufferings and afflictions and engage in practices, like fasting, that allow us to participate in God's reconciling the world to Himself in Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit. One way we do this is not by complaining out loud, but quietly offering up to God our hardships and suffering, large or small. To some extent, mortification is obligatory on all Christians. It doesn't take too much self-examination for us discover sinful tendencies and habits to which we are prone. These can be overcome, even if slowly and in fits and starts, by God's grace. We must be mindful that grace builds on nature, which means that we need to freely cooperate with what God is doing, which is bringing about our sanctification.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Ash Wednesday: Lent begins

Since sharing my views on things these days seems to anger quite a few people, I'll go ahead and lead off my post for Ash Wednesday by simply stating that chief among the questions I truly despise is, "What are you giving up for Lent?" In the first place, it's none of your business- pray, fast, give alms in secret and all that (Matt 6:1-8.16-18). I know, God knows, and my spiritual director knows. Among my reasons for disliking this question is not because what I am giving up is some great secret, or that I would never tell anyone. Along the way I may well divulge some of what I am doing and not doing for Lent. Primarily it is because these things are means to an end, not ends in themselves. Let's be honest, the reason most people ask others that question is because they're dying to tell the person they ask what they are giving up. At the expense of sounding harsh, I don't care what you are giving up for Lent. Even so, may God draw you closer Himself through whatever you're doing or not doing for Lent.

I am not in a position to say if my approach to Lent over the years is typical or not. Suffice it to say for many years I was pretty indifferent to Lent as a season of doing anything extra. From the time I became Catholic in 1990 until about 2006 or 2007 I simply endeavored to do what the Church asks of me: to fast on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday and abstain from the meat of warm-blooded animals on Fridays of Lent, unless a solemnity, like the Annunciation or St Joseph, fell on Friday, or possibly St Patrick's day, when the bishop might issue permission to forego Lenten discipline. But for several years, beginning around 2006-2007, I became a kind of Lenten enthusiast, who sought to go over and above. Over the past four or five years I have found a ways of observing Lent that help me strike a better balance and stay focused on what this whole exercise is about: drawing closer to God through Christ in the power of the Holy Spirit.



There are two quotes that have helped me enter into and, dare I say, benefit from Lent the past few years. The first is by James Kushiner, an Orthodox Christian, who succinctly noted- "A discipline won’t bring you closer to God. Only God can bring you closer to Himself. What the discipline is meant to do is to help you get yourself, your ego, out of the way so you are open to His grace." This helps me to think about what I might give up, that is, not do, for Lent as well as what I will do.

The second quote, which I received second hand in an article, is from an Ash Wednesday homily delivered by English Passionist Fr Harry Williams quite a few years ago:
It is a pity that we think of Lent as a time when we try to make ourselves uncomfortable in some fiddling but irritating way. And it’s more than a pity, it’s a tragic disaster, that we also think of it as a time to indulge in the secret and destructive pleasure of doing a good orthodox grovel to a pseudo-Lord, the Pharisee in each of us we call God and who despises the rest of what we are
His point, at least as I take it, is, You are loved by God and whatever you do or choose not to do for Lent must have this as its basis.

The ashes we receive are a sign of hope, not despair. Let's not forget that even though Lent is penitential, penance that is truly Christian is joyful. In other words, there is no need during Lent to pretend that Jesus Christ isn't risen from the dead and reigning at the right of the Father, or that the Holy Spirit goes AWOL for six weeks each year.

It seems to me that there are three fundamental spiritual disciplines taught us by our Lord Himself that constitute any genuine Christian spirituality. The Church reminds of these each year in our Gospel passage for Ash Wednesday: prayer, fasting, and alms-giving. One way to look at these is that fasting is what you plan to give up (i.e., not do) during Lent, alms-giving is what you plan to do positively for others. Prayer? Prayer is really and truly the bedrock of life of with God, of Christian life. Prayer is something almost all of us need to "waste" way more time doing. Fasting without prayer is dieting. Alms-giving without prayer fails to bring hope, to meet the deepest human need, the need that only One can meet.

My prayer for everyone reading this is that God will draw you closer to Himself during this holy, joy-filled, season.

Friday, February 6, 2015

"Be Thou my Dignity, Thou my Delight"

It's difficult to believe that the first week of February is nearly over. It seems impossible to me that it's time to post another traditio. This week, again, I am sticking with posting a contemporary Christian song, well, a contemporary version of ancient Christian song that was contemporary in the 8th century. It's no exaggeration to point out that Michael Card's music, over the years, has given me much spiritual succor and strength.



Our traditio for this First Friday of February (quite alliterative) is Michael Card singing the lovely hymn, "Be Thou My Vision" from his wonderful album Starkindler. It is reckoned that this Celtic hymn (originally Rob tu mo bhoile, a Com­di cri­de) was composed all the way back in the 8th century by Dal­lan For­gaill. It was trans­lat­ed from an­cient Ir­ish into Eng­lish in 1905 by Ma­ry Byrne, in Eriú, Jour­nal of the School of Ir­ish Learn­ing. It was set to verse by El­ea­nor Hull around 1912.



Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,
Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art

The love open to all

Readings: Exodus 22:20-26; Psalm 18:2-4.47.51; 1 Thessalonians 1:5c-10; Matthew 22:34-40 With my graciously granted discretion, after a l...