Father Cutie

I have been surpised about how little play the whole Father Cutie incident has received in Catholic circles.  It is true that I don’t check that many blogs anymore, and so it possible that I have simply missed the discussion.  However, it certainly received play in the MSM.  Which is to be expected.  A hot Catholic priest from South Beach leaves the Church over indiscretions of a vow-breaking nature, joins the Episcopal Church (!), and marries his little lady.  This irks me on so many levels. 

1) I have attended Mass at his parish.  He was a good priest.  He had a huge and orthodox (if perhaps a bit mushy) ministry.  He was hot, celibate and orthodox.  He was a poster child for a vibrant, young, relevant Catholicism.  He was one of us.  So I feel slightly more betrayed by him than when some loony Shera of a priest goes all Episcopagan.

2) Episcopalian?  Really?  Specifically, in a diocese that…blows.  This is the more disturbing part for me.  It betrays such a fundamental lack of understanding of who and what he was and still is.  They have no Holy Orders.  No Eucharist.  They affirm pretty much every Pelvic Disorder.  Which, of course, they are free to do.  I don’t care what Episcopalians do, but I do care that an apparently good and orthodox and dynamic Catholic priest can so easily be led to repudiate (charitably interpreted) what he once held dear. 

Now he’s in an invalid marriage, and once he is “ordained” he will be illicitly confecting and distributing the Eucharist (provided form, matter and intent are maintained).  May Our Lord grant this man repentance and clarity.

Oh Come

I was thinking about what I might possibly mean when I ask Our Lord, “Oh Lord, come to me in power and fill me.”  Because, that is precisely what he does in Holy Communion.  Instead of of begging him to come in power, I might as well just go to Mass and shut up.  And it occurs to me that it is a remnant from my non-Catholic days.  He wasn’t in Holy Communion then, so I had to ask him to come via some other means.  But more than that, I think that it is really a cry from desperation.  Lord, come and overpower me with your grace, so much so that it will overpower my free will and make me good.  Fill me to the point where I will make wise and good choices.  But this is a non-starter with Our Lord who, desiring our holiness, nevertheless does not negate our free will.  Some try as I might to sway him otherwise, it ain’t happenin’.  He does indeed come to me in power and glory on a daily basis (were I disciplined enough), but will never do so in a manner that cancels freedom.  So I guess I’m stuck with my bad choices.  ‘Cause my freedom isn’t very free.

Irony

Michael Berg reflects on the formative sexual relationship he had with older woman Hanna Schmitz as a young teenager in this poignant drama set in post-World War II Germany. The passionate affair ended when Hanna disappeared.

That’s how the movie, The Reader, is described on Netflix.  We received it because it had been nominated for all sorts of stuff.  We hadn’t heard of it, though, as we haven’t heard of many things, being way out of the Media Circle.  In fact, to my shame, I hadn’t even read the description before queuing it up.  Anyway, we received this movie at the same time as Doubt, which had been recommended on relatively high authority, despite the subject.  To those who don’t know, Doubt is about the doubt surrounding allegations about a Catholic priest’s dealings with a certain boy.

The irony is that Doubt is a movie that doesn’t work, except on the obvious assumption that sexual dealings with children are heinous sins.  Check.  And yet, reread the description of The Reader.  A passionate affair between a child and an older woman.  It would seem that sexual dealings with children in some situations are heinous, but in others, they amount to “passionate affairs”.  Check.  What gives, I ask.  It would seem that pedophilia is heinous when Catholics do it, but not when others do it.  Or that it is heinous when men do it, but not when women do it.  Or something.

Anyway, as Mark Shea says, the day is fast coming when the Church will be shouted down, not for committing such sins, but for standing againt them.

Divine Maternity

The phrase “divine maternity” is really…cool…technically speaking.  It rolls off the tongue beautifully and lends an air of splendor to Our Lady.  It can be a confusing term, though.  There was a period where I didn’t really understand what it meant.  As I understand it now, it refers to Our Lady’s prerogative as the Mother of God.  Her divine maternity refers to her role as the Mother of the Divine Man.  All well and good.  But it can be somewhat confusing too.  After all, the phrase could very easily be understood to refer to the fact that her maternity is divine.  That is, that there is something about her that is divine.  And it can be argued that even that is true, to the extent that the order of grace renders her (and all of us) a daughter of God, adopted into the divine family.  But I don’t think that it what divine maternity is intended to convey.

All of this was brought home to me over the last week as I read the print version of this homily in the Catholic Standard and Times.  The CST is by no means a hack job of a Catholic newspaper.  Their authors and editors really do seem to attempt to put together one of the best Catholic weeklies in the country.  And our Cardinal is top-notch.  However, on page 23 of the print version of the linked homily, the title of the second part (it starts on page is “Mary’s divinity ‘poured out upon the Church’.”  That’s quite a statement, and one that would make my in-laws bristle.  And rightly so.  But this title is only a condensation of the following sentence from the homily:

In accordance with the eternal plan of Providence, Mary’s divine motherhood is to be poured out upon the Church, as indicated by statements of Tradition, according to which Mary’s ‘motherhood’ of the Church is the reflection and extension of her motherhood of the Son of God” (Redemptoris Mater, 24).

What appears to have happened is that the editor has confused “Mary’s divine motherhood” with “Mary’s divinity”.  He seems to be confused by what is meant by the phrase “divine motherhood”.  What the homily states makes perfect sense.  If she is the Mother of the Son, she is also the Mother of his body, the Church.  But her divinity is not poured out upon the Church.  And to say so only confirms our separated brethren in their darkest suspicions about us.

Recruiters Are Such Pests

In my job search, I have applied for numerous positions that have been posted by recruiters.  I have yet to have a good experience with a single one of them.  They are degrading pests.  The typical run will go something like this: Apply for the job; speak to the recruiter; be told how great I am and how sure he is they’ll want to talk to me; ask me to forward a slightly modified version of the resume; forward said version; never hear from them again.

I understand that they are in it to make money, and like everyone else, they have to prioritize their activities.  However, there is a slight difference, in that they are dealing in human hopes, dreams, fears and sorrows.  The way you, O Pestilent Nuissance, treat the potential job candidate should be a priority.  They should be treated with respect, the minimum amount of respect being a a short email saying something like, “sorry, it didn’t work out, we’ll keep you in mind.”  That took me 30 seconds to write.  It could take you less, if you copied and pasted it from the last such email you sent.  The point being, it wouldn’t take much of an investment of time to actually do someone the courtesy of letting them know that things didn’t work out.  And, mark this, doing it would set you apart from the pack of other Pestilent Nuissances as Someone To Recommend And Work With In The Future, If Possible.

However, the Pestilent Nuissance Syndrome was taken to a whole new level of unprofessionalism by one Solon Frazilus.  I have a few other things on my plate right now, and so I removed my name from consideration for a job in North Jersey.  Plus, once I saw the job description, which they withold until you’ve already applied, I figured out that I was waaaaay underqualified.  There’s a reason people pay other people twice what they pay me.  And it ain’t dumb luck.  So, and note this, I contacted him to let him know I was no longer interested, because, you know, that’s common courtesy.  And he wrote back:

You have six years of experience in human health toxicology and risk assessments.  You also have exposure to OTC products, the appropriate regulatory bodies and have the required degree.  Additionally, when we spoke you said that you were comfortable relocating to northern NJ.  Based on this information and how you chose to respond, I have to assume that you decided to approach them directly.

Solon Frazilus, PHR

Uh, no, actually.  I’m not a Pestilent Nuissance.  Nor am I an unprofessional hack.  I don’t lie to people to manipulate them for my ends.  I don’t scheme and back-door people.  But seen as that is how you treat people, I can see why you expect people to treat you that way.  You should try taking your clients at their word.  You unprofessional hack.

Truly True Science

As I said previously, everyone just keeps bringing up the Science Trump Card without, you know, actually talking about science.  But, trust them, they heard it from a friend’s neighbor’s mother’s postman’s scientist niece that Science says so.  So it must be true.

Pope Does it Again

Just when I think our Pope has run out of mad genius, he always manages to dig down way deep and pull out some more of the goods.  In this case, I refer, of course, to the latest round of venom being spewed in his direction.  That his remarks on the use of condoms to fight the African AIDS epidemic have managed to elicit condemnation from both the French and the Germans is the final nail in the coffin.  I have respected him immensely until now.  But now my view of him has been raised to something bordering on the sacrilegious.  He is my idol, in the contemporary slang sense.  I would never want to be him.  But there is not a single soul on the planet that I could ever respect more.  I love him.  I always did.  But now I ***LOVE*** him.

He is a sign of contradiction.  He will speak the truth, damn the consequences.  And the swirling winds of hell that seemingly constantly surround him are only further proof that he is a most resplendant witness of Christ himself.  The demonic hordes know exactly where lies their greatest threat.  And woe to the world for joining their feeding frenzy.

I am not a big fan of demon-speak.  I have always shied away from attributing to the devil that which is very easily attributed to human mischief, stupidity or just plain ole sin.  But this most recent tempest surrounding the Pope just reeks of hell.  Because, from my vantage point, all I see are people so wrapped up in the Western Sexual Non-Ethic that the Pope’s words seem to them to be an attack on them.  His words seem to be like garlic to a vampire.  Or like the Cross to a demon.  Just shrieking hordes.

There is no rational response to what he says, except to the extent a blood-thirsty mob can be described as rational.  The piling on, the tone in which the piling-on is carried out demonstrates, to me, that there is more to the world’s disagreement than just a disagreement over facts.  It’s almost like they feel personally attacked.  Like when you go after a tiger cub.  Mamma gets a little ticked.  Sexual license is their little tiger cub.  So please don’t around suggesting that permissive sexual behaviors have anything to do with AIDS.  Or we’ll go all fight-flight on yer ass.

I would be very open to an open dialogue about the science on this subject.  But it really seems that this is a subject upon which, for whatever reason, no one can be objective.  Both sides claim science as their ally, but no one ever seems to actually know the studies (except these guys).  They’ve been told the science is on their side, but haven’t bothered to double-check.  And so you get mealy-mouthed nonsense from the French about how the Pope is unscientific and intolerant (their greatest curse).  Intolerant?  What’s that got to do with anything?  “You’re unscientific.”  “No, you’re unscientific.”  “Nuh-uh.”  “Yah-huh.”  “Well your momma’s ugly.”

Anyway, our glorious leader continues on his way peacefully, pointing us all to Christ.  Speaking the truth to an unthinking and uncomprehending world.  Just like Someone Else did 2000 years ago.  And I hope he doesn’t meet the same fate.

Long live the Pope!

Memo to the OverlordBossMan

To: All Employees

From: Pierre [Last Name]

Re: Moving Forward

Now that we have reached settlement with [EvilCorp] on the litigation, our attention must turn to maintaining focus on our businesses during these challenging times, staying engaged with our customers, and re-activating the integration planning process.

No offense, Dear Overlord, but the businesses, our customers and the integration are the three last things on my mind.  Seriously.  I’m more interested in getting off your sinking ship before it officially goes under.  Or to switch the analogy, Bossman, I’m running for my life before you get one last shot at knifing me in the back.  It’s probably hard to understand from your vantage point atop that massive pile of cash, but us lowly plebs still need food and shelter.  So, really, no offense and all, but bite me.

I recognize that since the settlement on Monday, you have many questions about the future organizational model and post-close structure. I have the very same questions that all of you have.

Dearest Brutus, are you really so out of touch.  The pile must be higher than I thought.  We rank-and-file have no such questions.  We could give two shits about the future organizational model.  Except, perhaps, insofar as it affects the one thing we do care about.  Will I have a job in this failing economy?  Will my family be able to keep our house?    Or will you cut me loose to save a little more cash?  So no.  You really don’t have the same questions we have.

Over the past weeks our attention and focus have been devoted to finding a resolution to closing the transaction and not on integration related issues. We will now be turning our attention to these issues and will begin discussions with [EvilCorp] on the subject later this week.

Translation:  Over the past weeks, your attention and focus have been devoted to finding a resolution to further padding your bank account, at the expense of 25-30% of your employees.  So, now as you turn your attention to culling the herd, well…it is no great consolation to know that we are in your cross-hairs.

We will share more information as it becomes available. One question that I can address today is that under our settlement with [EvilCorp], all the conditions in our merger agreement of July 10th regarding employee related benefits etc., remain intact. I would refer you to the Acquisition site on The Edge where we previously posted details on the merger agreement for more detailed information.

The lone bit of good news is that you somehow failed to take away our last remaining comfort as employees of this sordid company.  So I’ll get my puny 3 months severance (unless you start to get really creative…remember to read everything you sign, folks).  Small consolation indeed.

In the meantime, the business environment requires that we focus our attention on our work, along with a greater intensity on safety for ourselves and our colleagues.

The business environment requires nothing of the sort.  Having seen your “commitment” to your employees’ well-being, you can hardly be surprised that my commitment is most assuredly not to my work or this evil company.

Thank you for your patience as we move forward.

Welcome.

News from…

…The Complete and Utter Bullshit Department:

But the Vatican’s position [on evolution] became somewhat confused in recent years, in part because of a 2005 New York Times op-ed piece signed by a close Benedict collaborator, Austrian Cardinal Christoph Schoenborn.

In the piece, Schoenborn seemed to reject traditional church teaching and backed intelligent design, the view that life is too complex to have developed through evolution alone, and that a higher power has had a hand in changes among species over time.

Oh great gobs and mountains of pure gobbledygook, how can I ever dream of reaching thy glorious heights!

1) What is this “traditional church teaching” of which you speak, oh valiant Knight of Truth?  Evolution?  Look, dude, I ain’t on board with the whole 6-day thing, nor with the whole ID of the Gaps thing either.  But to call evolution the “traditional” teaching is a bit of a stretch.

2) I read Schoenborn’s piece, and he did not back ID.  Sure, he used the words “intelligent” and “design” in close proximity.  And true, this was a sort of acoustical cue for you to hit your Vatican-Stands-In-The-Way-Of-Truly-True-Science macro, but he endorse no such theory as ID.  Rather…

3) He merely mentioned that, you know, as Catholics who, you know, believe in a Creator God, we surely do see evidence of…wait for it…design in the universe.  That we are not, in fact, the products of mere blind chance.  That whatever process he chose to use to make us, and make no mistake, evolution is the best hypothesis, he nevertheless did make us.

4) He further went on to say, and I am going from memory here, that God’s existence was not article of faith, but rather demonstrable by reason, per Vatican I.  And that therefore, far from having our faith over here and our Truly True Science over there, we rather see that both God and TTS are rooted in the camp of Reason.  Faith is grounded in reason.  Reason is illuminated by faith.

Ras Le Bol

So we had been attending 7:30 am Sunday Mass for pretty much the better part of the last year.  No music.  Around these parts, that’s pretty important, because Catholic music is depressing.  And depression is no fun!  But inevitably, the sleeping patterns of our littlest one have significantly changed, and so we find ourselves in need of attending a later Mass.  At our parish, that means 9:00 am is the go-to dealio, as 10:30 involves guitars.  I will apostasize before willfully attending such a thing.

So we’d been attending the 9:00 am Mass for a couple of weeks.  And there’s music.  Boy, is there ever music.  I suppose I could have endured the tedium.  It seems wrong to have Mass be an exercize in fortitude, but that’s where we are these days.  Our new pastor has wonderful homilies.  But being of That Generation, he also is quite prone to make it up as he goes along.  Nothing exhorbitant, the usual stuff.  Like paper cuts.  A word here, a word there.  A misplaced joke.  A sentence here, a sentence there.  Whatever.  Then we got a couple of Weekend Helper Priests (aka Weekend Warriors), one is good, but apparently can’t make it to the early Masses.  The other is…OK.  But he is a Wanderer.  He likes to stay active during the homily.

Then we got a new deacon.  Preached a great homily, but is also a Wanderer.  All the way down into the nosebleeds.  I’m pretty sure that’s illicit.  Steve, chime in, please.  And now his wife is our liturigical director.  She previously assumed the position at St Thomas of Villanova.  Our oldest’s godparents quit that place for greener pastures.  So, OK, kinda strike one.  But then she has treatened us will Bell Choirs and Children’s Choirs.  I suppose the bell choir might be alright.  But not a children’s choir.  Look, kids are Christians.  They should be involved in stuff.  But…

Anyway, we occasionally go through these periods of exasperation at being Catholic.  So, usually our rememdy is to go parish-hopping for a while.  Take some time apart, see other people, and then reconvene to resume our relationship.  But as in dating, this is, of course, a euphemism for, well, I don’t like you that much, if there ain’t nuthin’ better out there, I’ll be back, but otherwise, sayonara.  Well, our parish is kinda mushy, but it is much better than the majority of parishes we have usually visited in our times apart.

With this exception.  St Michael’s Byzantine Catholic Church.  Fifteen minutes from home.  It is a gorgeous little church.  About a 100 people show up each week.  The liturgy is completely chanted, save the homily.  Incense fuming, bells ringing.  By and large, people aren’t dressed in bathing suits.  Last weekend, the homily was about the 7th Ecumenical Council.  Wha..  There’s more than Vatican II?  The songs are robust, though certainly different.  Each week, we have been approached by happy Catholics, welcoming us, inviting us to donuts and coffee.  Simply put, the whole thing is gorgeous.  And friendly.

It is also completely foreign to us.  The wife gives up trying to figure where we are in the “Missal” about 2 minutes before I do.  Never heard the songs before.  It is longer than a Latin-rite Mass, by about 20 minutes (a significant consideration given the 1 year old who is now emoting).  You stand.  A lot.  I mean, a really lot.

So I am torn.  The wife, not as much.  I think we have agreed for now, to split time between this and our parish.  But I already know more people at St Michaels.  I’ve sat down for coffee with the priest.  And I am not constantly frustrated by the banality, though I am frustrated that I can’t follow along yet.  But that will come.

Anyway, blah, blah, blah.

The Eye That Sleepeth Not

That would be my eye.  Not because I’m staying up until ridiculous hours of the night applying for jobs.  But rather because I am (kinda) like that evil master Sauron, scanning the Protestant world looking for goofiness.  I see all.  I hear all.  All bend to me.  Or something.

Actually, I am not really scanning.  I have a few websites I frequent because of some previous-life connection.  This one is because he was a very close friend of mine my senior year in high school.  He is now a pastor of a church in Maryland.

So anyway, his post is entitled “James’ view of the Bible”, and contains the following section:

What did [James] think of the Bible? He tells us in the letter he wrote. In James 1:18, we see that he believed it was truth. In this same passage, James tells us that the Word is the means of regeneration — new birth (James 1:18, 21). The Word acts as a mirror, showing us our defects (James 1:23-25). It is our guide for living today (James 2:8), and will serve as the standard for judgment in the future (James 2:12). Finally, in James’ most famous passage, he tells us that we must not merely be hearers of this great Word—we must be doers as well (James 1:22). May James’ attitude—and the attitude of all who know and fear God—be ours this year.

It will suffice to look at merely the first example given: James 1:18.  What does James 1:18 tell us about his view of “the Bible”?  Not much, really, seen as the Bible is not the subject of the quote:

Of his own will he brought us forth by the word of truth that we should be a kind of first fruits of his creatures.

In fact, what my friend seems to have done is conflated the “word of truth” with “the Bible”, but they are, in fact, not the same thing.  The image that is being used by St James is reminiscent of the first few chapters of the book of Genesis, where God creates the universe by speaking it into existence.  In the same way, he re-creates mankind by speaking him into existence.  The Gospel of St John takes this image of the creative action of God’s spoken word, and identifies that word as the Second Person of the Most Holy Trinity, who has now been incarnate.  I think it is to go too far to say that St James is here speaking of Jesus as the “word of truth”.  Rather he is using an image for our re-creation in Christ, one that conveys that, as with the universe, we were re-created out of nothing, bringing nothing of our own to the project.  “Word of truth” is thus a Genesean (???) image used to depict our utter dependence on God’s saving action.

This word transcends all human capacities.  And yet we are not left completely in the dark, for this creative word, this infinite and eternal speech of God has revealed Himself.  As was mentioned above, he was incarnate.  And so the full revelation of the “word of truth” is the incarnated Second Person: Jesus of Nazareth.

This is not to denigrate the Bible.  I agree wholeheartedly with my friend’s sentiment that the Bible should be read, studied, meditated upon and lived.  It contains the only Holy Spirit-attested recollections of Our Lord’s life.  It contains  truth and manifests truth.  But it is not the Truth.  It contains and manifests the word of life.  But it is not the Word of Life.  The same could be said for Apostolic Tradition, but this is not that stale post.

Incidentally, “word of truth” also couldn’t be the Bible, because the Bible did not yet exist.  Parts of the NT had not even been written at this point, let alone collated into a series of canonized books.  And St James would not have been aware, and probably would have bristled at the idea, that this letter he was writing would someday be elevated to an equal, if not even superior status to that of the OT writings.

Look at me! Look at me!

I’ve got a big smudge on my forehead.  Acutally I don’t.  And that’s because I can no longer participate in the Annual This-Lapsed-Catholic-Finally-Braved-The-Cold-To-Attend-A-Non-Holy-Day-Mass Parade.  This reflects even more poorly on me than it does on our lapsed friends.  But I can’t do it anymore.  Lent begins without the fanfare for me.  Last year, I felt a little guilty about it, as if maybe my motives were secretly that people might not think me a crazy Catholic Kook.  But I’m way beyond that now.  For better or for worse.  I don’t want anything to do with it.

Now, onto what I really wanted to say, which is that this post at First Things is spot-on.  I have also noted that it is quite trendy, even among Catholics, these days to not give up stuff for Lent.  I know I even fell prey to it for a while.  Instead of giving something up, why not take something on, the story goes.  And it is certainly noble to take up some kind of spritual exercise during Lent.  But do give someting up too!  Even if it is something “silly” like candy.  I remember we Prots used to enjoy our amusement at the expense of those works-riddled Catholics.  How silly they were giving up candy.  As if God cares about candy.  Never noticing, mind you, that the Catholics were the ones giving something up.  We were fat and happy.  Those who never give up candy have no idea how hard it is to give up candy.  And to be honest, I think we often used our jokes specifically to ensure that we would never have to try.  Because we knew we couldn’t.

Take this morning.  It’s Ash Wednesday.  Fast and abstinence.  Which cracks me up, first of all, because you would think that fasting would de facto cover the abstinence part too.  But we works-riddled Catholics have also found a way to circumvent our fasting, so that we get to eat while fasting!  Ha!  Pharisees!  So we need to add abstinence to to our fasting, to make sure that we don’t eat too much during our fasts.  Gluttonous Pharisees!!!

Anyway, back on point, fast and abstinence.  That means I wake up today and can’t go through my normal routine.  I really really love my routine.  And my cereal, juice, two pieces of raisin toast, and my cup of tea.  I love all of it.  But I had to change it.  And I sat there, literally, for minutes, depressed at the fact that I could only have one piece of toast, no cereal, a smidge of juice, and my cup of tea.  I mean, heck, I didn’t even change that much.  But it was enough to knock me into a depression.  And then I come into work and the left-over Mardi Gras donuts are still out.  Come on, guys!

And this is the genius of giving things up.  You realize how attached you are.  How enslaved you are.  And not just to candy or raisin toast, but to everything.  We say we would give up all to follow our Lord.  But even the thought of giving up an extra piece of toast for him is too much.  Or the routine.  Even for just a day.  Thank God for the wisdom of Mother Church, forcing us to come face to face with the reality of our attachments.  “Awake, sleeper.”

Good quote

“Be not deceived, Wormwood, our cause is never more in jeopardy than when a human, no longer desiring but still intending to do our Enemy’s will, looks round upon a universe in which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys.” –C.S. Lewis, “The Screwtape Letters”

Giant doe eyes filled with fire

How can one not live in fear of a God who would suffer so much for…me?

O my Jesus, I don’t trust you.

In the midst of my frothing-at-the-mouth rambling yesterday, I managed to say a couple of things that were, at least, minorly interesting to me (both quoted above).  And interestingly, both of those statements are very closely related.  Because, the thing is, I do trust Jesus.  I rather trust him too much.  I have no doubts that he will deliver on his end of the bargain, should I give him the permission to do so.  Not a shred of doubt.  It’s just that his bargain is considerably more than I had ever bargained for.  He will stop at nothing short of making me a saint, that is, holy.  I never got into this whole thing to be a saint.  I got into it to make some nice friends, meet some nice girls, live a good and happy life.  Add a little meaning and purpose into the mix, with a dash of love.  But I’m affraid I mistook the accidentals for the substance.  For I have received all those things in spades.  Nice friends, check.  Nice girls, check.  Super hot wife, check.  Happy life, check.  Purpose and meaning, check.  A dash of love, check.  So everything should be great, right?

But none of those things are enough.  In fact, I am beginning to suspect that they were just the bait to get me hooked.  For having received all of the things I hoped for, I now turn around to see our Lord looking at me with those giant doe eyes of his.  Except that the eyes aren’t filled with that Disney gleam, but rather with a consuming fire.  I am reminded again of CS Lewis who said somewhere that God is certainly good.  But he is not safe.  He has certainly been very gracious to me, but now he wants me.  All of me.  For good.  No turning away, no turning back.  Come to me and let me purify you.  Come to me and let me crucify you.  Be consumed in the fire of my love.

I feel a bit bait-and-switched.  I became a Christian in the friendly confines of the Baptist faith.  Certainly they are known for hell and fire preaching, but the primary aim of what I experienced was simply to scare me into seeing my sin (which worked), and recognizing my need for a Savior.  But once you pray the prayer, you’re once-saved, always saved.  No fear.  Certainly a response of gratitude, adoration and service is expected, but it’s done.  You are saved.  You are free.  No more fear.  No serious work.  Jesus is your buddy.  He loves you.  He wants you to flourish and lead a relatively comfortable life.  That’s exactly what I signed on for.

But then I wandered off the farm, and was led, many times by ill motives, to where I am now.  It’s funny how God can use your pride and desire to shock.  How many times I have changed churches because “I knew better” than everyone in the last one.  Or because it would raise eyebrows.  Or out of boredom.  And yet, he has used all of these ridiculous motives to bring me to the fullness of truth.  And now our Lord has me fully in his cross-hairs.

I should have known he was coming.  The encounter could only be delayed for so long.  He was always going to come to enforce his end of the bargain.  But how can one not live in fear of such immense love?  Were a man (or woman) to love me with one infinith of the love he has for me, I would immediately withdraw: “Whoa, slow down, camper.  A little hot and heavy, no.  I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of commitment.”  Like I said, I wanted a dash of love.  Enough to feel pretty good about being loved, but not so much that I had to actually stop and consider this other person.  Love, sure, but freedom to do what I want too.  Love for me, but not so much for you.  In a word, selfishness.

Awake, sleeper

I have been sleep-walking through my spiritual life for a long time.  Or rather, slowly crustifying and crystallizing into a much harder and colder Christian.  The intent, or at the very least, effect of this has been to slowly fall away from Jesus Christ.  Inwardly, for many of the externals have remained.  Horrible doubts about the trifling details of faith all the way up to and including doubts about the major details.  Details like, do I really believe in God?  Is this just bread?  If not and if so (respectively), what then?  What to do under the crushing weight of final futility?

But of course, all of the old arguments for the existence of God remain, and the train of logic (maybe?) that leads (inexorably?) from God to Eucharist also remains.  So this turns out to not be much on an intellectual struggle, which is clearly a manifestation of the mercy of God.  At adoration the other night (see, the externals remain), I had the image of Jesus Christ as Alien Invader Overlord Guy (in a green suit) pouncing on me, pinning me on my back, and proceeding to suck the life out of me.  This is my struggle.  I believe in God.  And all that entails, intellectually.  But I don’t like him, nor do I like all of that entailment.  When my sin was revealed to me those many years ago, I was 18 years old.  I was hanging out with the Baptists because they were really friendly.  And they liked me.  I didn’t believe any of that nonsense, but I would have defended them to the death.  Because, in fact, they loved me.

But, mark this.  I was 18.  I had my plans for a debauched life.  I knew precisely what I would do when I got to college.  And then God showed me my sin.  And I immediately knew I believed in God.  But once the initial euphoria was over, and quite quickly, this newfound reality was perceived,  not as good news, but as an encumbrance.  Not the good news of liberation, but the bad news that I was going to have to, one way or another, make new plans for my life.  And I think that, all these years later, not all that much has changed.  God is the cosmic kill-joy.  That is what my vision of Alien Jesus is about.  He is pursuing me, and I am running away.  Because I don’t want anything to do with his new plans.

His new plans for me are most unwelcome.  They involve things like sobriety, responsibility, chastity, sacrifice.  They involve things that keep putting me at odds with a surrounding culture I desperately want to fit in with.  They involve constant choices of, “OK, if I say what I believe, they’ll never talk to me again, but if I say something else, I will be a wuss coward.”  His plans involve going without, sharing.  In a word, they involve the fullness of love, and quite frankly, I find that unappealing.  I like distance, ease, quiet and couches.

So, I’m at adoration, and I do recognize that, rationally, clearly this Alien Jesus Guy reflects a severe misapprehension on my part.  I know that he is otherwise.  I know what the Church teaches.  And I know what the New Testament teaches.  And I know what some of the saints say.  This weekend is the Feast of the Baptism.  This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.  Through baptism, I am that son in whom he is well pleased.  Because he has given us the power to become sons of God.  A son of God.  For he has poured out within us a spirit of adoption, which cries out Abba, Father.  And so we are heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ.  A son, yes, but also a partaker of the divine nature.  Poured into our hearts, brimming with divine life.  For freedom he has set us free.

No, it’s not that I don’t believe in God because he’s not real.  It’s because he is too good to be real.  I mean, how can it be true?  How can the eternal God, all-holy, give so much?  How can he love so much?  How can he empty himself completely to fill me, when I want nothing to do with it?  How can one live in the light of so immense a gift?  How can one possibly respond to something so large?  How can one not live in fear of a God who would suffer so much for…me?  If he will go that far for me, then he has earned the right to ask anything of me, to the point of death (which he has asked of others).  But I’m not willing to go there.  And that is the crux of the situation.

My struggle with unbelief is not a struggle of the intellect.  It is a struggle of the will.  Will I?  Will I choose to completely lose myself?  Will I choose to allow him to completely annihilate me in his love?  To kill me and to raise me?  And to raise me as…who?  This is who I am.  This is what I know.  This is comfortable, predictable.  How can I choose to be lost, crucified?  Only to be found and raised as somebody else.  As who?  It feels a lot like physical death.  The Great Unknown.  How do I let go of the life I know in favor of something…else?

O my Jesus, I don’t trust you.  If I did, I would let go.  I would let myself be engulfed in your love.  Let go of the anger, the plans, the laziness, the hardness, the hatred, the greed, the fear.  These things that are so ridiculous, but that provide so much comfort.  Like those hideous pants I wore in the ’80s.

It all reminds me of the following sequence, from CS Lewis’ The Great Divorce:

Communion

One thing that has been standing out to me more and more as of late, is the spiritual communion I enjoy with my sons.  And this communion is something without which my whole idea of fatherhood would change.  Drastically.  For the worse.  It’s not something that I’m going to be able to do justice to, but I’ll try.

One example is of me at work.  I go to work to provide for and to protect my boys.  To take away the spiritual communion I have with them would be to reduce my work to the manual task of generating income, so as to provide for the necessities of life.  All those things are important, but they are, as I see it, only a part of the package.  And that is because, as a father, I am called to be more than a provider of food and other goods.  That is, I am to care for more than just the body of my boys, but also for their souls.  And that is where the notion of communion comes in.  For without it, it would be hard to make a case that my work (here at this horrible computer) had any direct effect on my boys’ souls; i.e., that my work would have anything to do with getting them to heaven.  Surely it could be argued that there would be an indirect effect.  By providing for their basic necessities, I foster a home environment in which the grace of God can have full effect.  Maybe.

But that’s not what I am getting at.  I’m talking about direct spiritual consequences.  The communion of saints.  My boys are saints.  Christians.  In Christ, I have a deep spiritual communion with them.  We are members of the same body.  What affects me affects them.  What affects them affects me.  The work I do, when done well, can merit graces for them.  The sufferings I endure, when endured well, can merit graces for them.  All of this applies also to the wider church, who are also members of the same body.  But I think it applies especially “closely” to those within our domestic churches.

All of this is never more readily obvious to me than when I have sundered that communion by some deliberate act of stupidity.  During those brief moments before communion is restored, I am filled with a stiff sense of futility as regards my work.  As if it were completely pointless to carry on with any of it.  For under such circumstances, there really is no point.  All becomes vanity!  There is no purpose or point to any of this little game.  Oh, but sweet mercy, it really does underline for me the emptiness of a “secular fatherhood”.  We go out into the world and we are just…away from those who are most important to us.  And have no connection to them.

But we do.

Merit

Our friend from over at 1517 has relocated to the area.  Welcome.  In perusing his fine website, I ran across the following statement:

In the sixteenth century, Luther stood his ground where Paul, many centuries earlier, had done so. Despite the light that the New Perspective claims to have cast on Paul’s doctrine, I am still persuaded that Luther actually got it right and that Paul thought about justification as the church, following Luther, has always judged that he did and not as the New Perspective now imagines. The Judaizers then and the medieval in Luther’s day alike thought that by the keeping of the law, salvation could be merited. Paul first, then Luther later, rejected this, and Luther rejected it because Paul had done so. The reason, quite simply, was their far deeper, far more realistic, and, indeed, far more biblical reckoning with the depths of human sin, its pervasiveness, and the innate corruption it has wrought throughout human nature. How, then, are humans to render up an obedience to the law which is not itself corrupt? The apple of our best works, while rosy and attractive on the outside, is always inhabited by a worm that has destroyed it from within.

It is true that some medievals thought that salvation could be “merited”.  In fact, non-medieval contemporary Catholics also believe that salvation can be “merited”, since it is what the Catholic Church teaches.  And also happens to be what the Catholic Church has always taught, at least from the time of St. Augustine.  And that is because it was the teaching of St. Augustine, the Doctor of Grace himself, that salvation could be “merited”.  The current catechism has a short section on merit, quoting St. Augustine, the Council of Trent, and St. Therese of Lisieux.

So, is it true then that this means that Luther and Paul were more “biblical” than the Medievals and Non-Medievals (MaNoM)?  Well, the first course of action would be to check out what the Catholic Church actually teaches about merit.  More precisely, does the Catholic Church teach, as the above quote certainly implies, that our works are good enough to get to heaven on our own steam?  Let us peruse that short section on merit, then, shall we?

First, the section starts of with a quote from St. Augustine, which pretty well sums up the entire Church teaching on merit:

You are glorified in the assembly of your Holy Ones, for in crowning their merits you are crowning your own gifts.

The Catholic Church does teach that God “recompenses” (i.e., rewards; cf. CCC 2006) our actions with “the graces needed for our sanctification, for the increase of grace and charity, and for the attainment of eternal life” (cf. CCC 2010).  Oy.  That does sound really bad.  It almost warrants reckless throwing of the P-word.  But wait!  There’s more to the story.  Our Protestant friends usually miss the next part of the story.  A series of caveats, if you will, that significantly alter the shape of the story.

Caveat 1: With regard to God, there is no strict right to any merit on the part of man. Between God and us there is an immeasurable inequality, for we have received everything from him, our Creator (CCC 2007).

That’s really pretty self-explanatory and obvious.  God is, you know, the eternally self-existent entity from whom we have received our entire being.  We have no rights, in the strict sense, for we have received everything as gift.  I think this statement by the catechism really gets to the root of the charge that is brought against the Catholic Church in the above quote.  I think our interlocutor really does think we think that we can place God in our debt.  The idea that we can is ludicrous.  And the notion that we think that is equally so.

Caveat 2: Since the initiative belongs to God in the order of grace, no one can merit the initial grace of forgiveness and justification, at the beginning of conversion (CCC 2010).

This is also a pretty significant statement, seen as it establishes that our salvation is entirely dependent upon God’s “initiative”.  This is the catechism referring to “operative” grace, that which precedes any cooperation on our part.  Without it, we would remain dead in our sins.  Without the prevenient operation of God’s grace in our souls, we would perish. This again undercuts the vague implication above that Catholics are unaware of the “biblical” data concerning man’s rotten state of affairs.

Caveat 3: [T]he merit of good works is to be attributed in the first place to the grace of God, then to the faithful. Man’s merit, moreover, itself is due to God, for his good actions proceed in Christ, from the predispositions and assistance given by the Holy Spirit (CCC 2008).

This is the part where the fullness of St. Augustine’s teaching is captured.  “In crowning their merits you are crowning your own gifts.”  According to Augustine and the Catholic Church, man’s merits are “due to God” for they are his “gifts”, from the work of the Holy Spirit in predisposing us for and assisting us in our works (cf. Eph 2:10).

Caveat 4: The merit of man before God in the Christian life arises from the fact that God has freely chosen to associate man with the work of his grace (CCC 2008).

Having established that there is no “strict right” to merit on man’s part, and that God’s grace precedes all merit, the Church then goes on to say that God nevertheless “freely chooses” to work with us.  We are God’s co-workers (cf. 1 Cor 3:9).  In his grace, he chooses to work with us.  And thus our merits are his gifts.  In other words, our merits do not bring us to God, but they flow from a freely-given relationship with him.

Really, what the teaching of the Church about merits is seeking to preserve is the “biblical” understanding that God rewards his children.  It seems strange to think that the Bible teaches us that God rewards us for what we do.  But it does.  The Synoptic Gospels are littered with promises of God rewarding us:

• [Y]our Father who sees in secret [i.e., that you have given alms in secret] will reward you (Mat 6:4)
• [W]hoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ, will by no means lose his reward (Mark 9:41)
• [L]eap for joy, for behold, your reward is great in heaven (Luke 6:23)

If Jesus taught us about our rewards, certainly St. Paul does too:

• Whatever your task, work heartily, as serving the Lord and not men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward (Col 3:23-24)
• If the work which any man has built on the foundation survives, he will receive a reward (1 Cor 3:14)
• [W]hoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him. (Heb 11:6)

And St. John too:

• Look to yourselves, that you may not lose what you have worked for, but may win a full reward (2 John 1:8)
• The nations raged, but thy wrath came, and the time for the dead to be judged, for rewarding thy servants, the prophets and saints, and those who fear thy name, both small and great, and for destroying the destroyers of the earth. (Rev 11:18)

OK.  So, granted that the notion of reward is “biblical”.  God rewards us for our works.  But how do we understand this “reward” if we are also told, as we are, that our works are as “filthy rags”, or that “without me you can do nothing”?  The simple solution, and it is the one that St. Augustine worked out and the one that the Catholic Church has held since then, is that, apart from God’s “predispositions and assistance” (i.e., the working of the Holy Spirit), our works are “destroyed from within” (to quote our interlocutor).  However, endowed with the mighty power of the Holy Spirit working within us, our works are worthy of being rewarded.  Which is to say, our works “merit” a reward, “for God is at work in [us], both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (cf. Phil 2:13).  This Catholic understanding of merit is really the only way to do full justice to the biblical data that our works will be rewarded, even though (without the power of Christ) they are “dead”.

Dignitas Personae

Is here.  Of course, you won’t find the document at the Holy See’s website.  Why would you?

30 pieces of silver

Obamaphile Doug Kmiec received a lot of flack (and rightly so) for his support of the Glorious One.  Looks like he may be receiving his 30 shekels.  Let’s hope for him that the analogy ends there…

Grace and Free Will

Our good brother gives a quote from Donald Bloesch, which states:

“It must be acknowledged…that in much popular Protestantism synergism (salvation through both grace and free will) is even more evident than in Catholicism, and human reason and experience firgure more prominently than Scripture in determining the norms for faith.”

Good to see his war is multi-frontal.  Most everyone else, besides the Catholics, has it wrong too.  Anyway, this is what the Council of Trent says about “grace and free will”.

[I]n adults, the beginning of the said Justification is to be derived from the prevenient grace of God, through Jesus Christ, that is to say, from His vocation, whereby, without any merits existing on their parts, they are called; that so they, who by sins were alienated from God, may be disposed through His quickening and assisting grace, to convert themselves to their own justification, by freely assenting to and co-operating with that said grace: in such sort that, while God touches the heart of man by the illumination of the Holy Ghost, neither is man himself utterly without doing anything while he receives that inspiration, forasmuch as he is also able to reject it; yet is he not able, by his own free will, without the grace of God, to move himself unto justice in His sight.

The phrase “grace and free will” is misleading.  It makes it seem as if we place both grace and free will on the same plane.  That where one is lacking, the other will supply.  But truth is much more nuanced than that, and I think the Council captures this quite nicely.  But it is also necessary to point out that the Council is not exhaustive on the subject, and Catholic theology goes into much more depth on the subject than does the Council in these few short sentences.

But anyway.  The Council is, in fact, quite clear that man “is [...] not able, by his own free will [...] to move himself unto justice in His sight.”  So right off the bat, free will alone is declared to be futile for justification.  Even before this text I have quoted, the Council also says that man is  “so far the servants of sin, and under the power of the devil and of death, that not the Gentiles only by the force of nature, but not even the Jews by the very letter itself of the law of Moses, were able to be liberated, or to arise, therefrom.”  Man’s powers alone cannot justify him.

What is necessary for justification is grace.  Specifically, this is “prevenient grace [...] whereby, without any merits existing on their parts, they are called.”  Our free will comes in by “freely assenting and co-operating” with grace.  The same paragraph goes on to specify what the Church means by “assenting and co-operating”.  Namely, “while God touches the heart”, man doesn’t do nothing, as the “inspiration” may yet be rejected.  So our free will in this process, as described here, is limited to not rejecting that grace.  To accepting it.

Or as St. Augustine says, “But he who made you without your consent does not justify you without your consent.  He made you without your knowledge, but he does not justify you without your willing it.”

What Trent doesn’t say, and what Catholic theology does, especially in Aquinas, is that the human act of co-operation it itself the fruit of grace.  So that it is God who begins and sustains the whole act of justification.  The details of how this all plays out are not dogmas of the Church, and thus are open to be discussed.  And indeed different schools in the Church have come to blows over these issues in times past.  But none would have argued over whether “grace and free will” were two equal sharers in the work of justification.  Obviously, our free will is itself dependent on the grace of God for its proper operation.

Which St. Augustine, again, has gone to great lengths to explain.

Edit: I had forgotten this very enlightening essay about the different strains of monergism and synergism.

Pius Ncube

One of the most outspoken opponents of Robert Mugabe has been silenced by the Vatican just as the regime in Zimbabwe is at its weakest and his leadership would be most valuable.

Pius Ncube resigned as Archbishop of Bulawayo and left Zimbabwe in September 2007 after he was filmed sleeping with a married woman who was employed by the regime as a “honeytrap”. He returned last month after spending a year in exile in Rome and Britain, but the Roman Catholic Church has forbidden him from making any political statements.

If the above is true, then Brother Pius, I can’t understand why you say this:

[Pius] agreed that the gagging order meant that the Mugabe regime had succeeded in neutralising one of its most prominent critics. As archbishop, Mr Ncube repeatedly denounced Mr Mugabe’s misrule, championed nonviolent opposition to the Government, and defied death threats.

I would seem, Brother Pius, that the success of the Mugabe regime in neutralizing you was achieved, not so much when the Vatican silenced you, but rather when you fell into the “honeytrap”.  It would seem, perhaps, dear Brother Pius, that you may be projecting a tiny smidge of the blame somewhere other than where it really belongs.  And in so doing, if the report is true, you have then played, not only into the hands of the Mugabe regime, but also into the hands of the Press, to whom you have now handed another “Vatican cracks down…” story.  It would seem that, perhaps, an Archbishop who fell into a “honeytrap” (I love that!) should be even a little more silent than he already has been.  And maybe the Vatican was onto something.

But enjoy your 15 minutes, brother.  ‘Cause it comes on the Vatican’s dime.  ‘Cause you can be sure no one would ever have payed any attention to you if you had been just another sleazy bishop.  But now you’re The Maverick, The Prophet, The Silenced Voice in the Wilderness.  Like I say, enjoy it.

Brother.

Propaganda

US heiress Martha von Bulow, who spent almost three decades in a coma but was still at the centre of 1980s courtroom dramas, has died at the age of 76.

This was the lede to a story at BBC News yesterday.  All good and well.  But I continued reading the article, searching for the propaganda that was sure to come.  And sure enough:

The von Bulows had been celebrating just before Christmas 1980 when Sunny von Bulow – who was then 48 and had a history of drug-consumption and heavy drinking – was taken ill in a dazed state.

Doctors concluded she had suffered brain damage that left her in a “persistent vegetative state”. Although she was kept alive on feeding tubes at an estimated cost of hundreds of thousands of dollars a year, Sunny von Bulow never regained consciousness.

Translation: Come, now.  She was only a vegetable, and had only ever been a crack whore.  And we were forced to spend all that money on her that could have been given to the poor.  Or at least to people who weren’t crack whores.  And for what?  She never regained consciousness, you prig!  What a waste.  Let us all, then, unite to ensure that no “person” who happens to be particularly expensive or troublesome troubles us ever again.  And anyway, it would be wrong not to.  Just think how boring it would be to lie there for 3 decades.  We’d be practically doing them a favor.

The Pope on Original Sin

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

In today’s catechesis we reflect on the relationship between Adam and Christ, delineated by St. Paul in the well-known page of the Letter to the Romans (5:12-21), in which he instructs the Church on the essential lines of the doctrine of original sin. In fact, already in the First Letter to the Corinthians, referring to faith in the resurrection, Paul introduced the encounter between our forefather and Christ: “For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive … The first man Adam became a living being”; the last Adam became a life-giving spirit” (1 Corinthians 15:22.45). With Romans 5:12-21, the encounter between Christ and Adam is more articulated and illuminating: Paul reviews the history of salvation from Adam to the Law and from the latter to Christ. Adam is not at the center of the scene with the consequences of sin on humanity, but Jesus Christ and grace that, through him, was poured in abundance on humanity. The repetition of “all the more” in regard to Christ underlines how the gift received in Him surpasses by far Adam’s sin and the consequences brought on mankind, so that Paul can add at the end: “But where sin increased, grace abounded all the more” (Romans 5:20). Hence, the encounter Paul traces between Adam and Christ brings to light the inferiority of the first man vis-à-vis the prevalence of the second.

On the other hand, it is appropriate to make evident the incommensurable gift of grace in Christ that Paul attributes to Adam’s sin: It could be said that if it were not to demonstrate the centrality of grace, he would not have hesitated to discuss sin that “came into the world through one man and death through sin” (Romans 5:12). Because of this if, in the faith of the Church the awareness matured of the dogma of original sin it is because it is indissolubly connected with the other dogma, that of salvation and freedom in Christ. The consequence of this is that we must never treat the sin of Adam and of humanity in a way that is detached from the salvific context, namely, without understanding it on the horizon of justification in Christ.

However, as men of today we must ask ourselves: What is this original sin? What does St. Paul teach, what does the Church teach? Is this doctrine still tenable today? Many think that, in the light of the history of evolution, there is no longer a place for the doctrine of a first sin, which then spread to the whole history of humanity. And, consequently, the question of the Resurrection and of the Redeemer would also lose its foundation. So, does original sin exist or not? To be able to respond we must distinguish two aspects of the doctrine on original sin. There is an empirical aspect, namely, a concrete, visible, I would say tangible reality for all, and a mysterious aspect, regarding the ontological foundation of this fact. The empirical fact is that there is a contradiction in our being. On one hand, every man knows that he must do good and he profoundly wants to do so. However, at the same time, he also feels the other impulse to do the contrary, to follow the path of egoism, violence, of doing only what pleases him even while knowing that he is acting against the good, against God and against his neighbor. In his Letter to the Romans Saint Paul expressed this contradiction in our being thus: “I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do” (7:18-19). This interior contradiction of our being is not a theory. Each one of us experiences it every day. And above all we always see around us the prevalence of this second will. Suffice it to think of the daily news on injustice, violence, falsehood, lust. We see it every day: It is a fact.

As a consequence of this power of evil in our souls, a filthy river has developed in history, which poisons the geography of human history. The great French thinker Blaise Pascal spoke of a “second nature,” which is superimposed on our original good nature. This “second nature” makes evil appear as normal for man. Thus even the usual expression: “this is human” has a double meaning. “This is human” might mean: This man is good, he really acts as a man should act. However, “this is human” might also mean falsehood: Evil is normal, it is human. Evil seems to have become a second nature. This contradiction of the human being, of our history should provoke, and provokes even today, the desire for redemption. And, in fact, the desire that the world be changed and the promise that a world be created of justice, peace, goodness is present everywhere: In politics, for example, all speak of this need to change the world, to create a more just world. It is precisely this expression of the desire that there be a liberation from the contradiction we experience in ourselves.

Hence, the fact of the power of evil in the human heart and in human history is undeniable. The question is: How is this evil explained? In the history of thought, except for the Christian faith, there is a principal model of explanation, with several variations. This model says: being itself is contradictory, it bears within it good and evil. In ancient times this idea implied the opinion that two equally original principles existed: a good principle and an evil principle. This dualism was insurmountable; the two principles are on the same level, hence there will always be, from the origin of being, this contradiction. The contradiction of our being, therefore, reflects only the contrariety of two divine principles, so to speak. In the evolutionist, atheist version of the world the same vision returns in a new way. Even if, in such a concession, the vision of being is monistic, it is implied that being as such from the beginning bears in itself evil and good. Being itself is not simply good, but open to good and evil. Evil is equally original as good, and human history would develop only the model already present in the whole of the preceding evolution. That which we Christians call original sin is in reality only the mixed character of being, a mixture of good and evil, according to this theory, it belonged to the very fabric of being. Deep down, it is a despairing vision: If it is so, evil is invincible. In the end, only self-interest matters. And every progress would necessarily have to be paid for with a river of evil and whoever wishes to serve progress must accept to pay this price. Politics, deep down, is based precisely on these premises: And we see the effects. This modern thought can, in the end, only create sadness and cynicism.

And so we ask again: What does faith say, as witnessed by St. Paul? As a first point, it confirms the fact of the competition between the two natures, the fact of this evil whose shadow weighs on the whole of creation. We heard Chapter 7 of the Letter to the Romans, we can add Chapter 8. Evil simply exists. As explanation, in contrast with the dualisms and monisms that we considered briefly and found desolating, faith tells us: There are two mysteries of light and one mystery of night, which is, however, shrouded by the mysteries of light. The first mystery of light is this: Faith tells us that there are not two principles, one good and one evil, but only one principle, the creator God, and this principle is good, only good, without a shadow of evil. As well, being is not a mixture of good and evil; being as such is good and because of this it is good to be, it is good to live. This is the happy proclamation of faith: there is only one good source, the Creator. And because of this, to live is good, it is a good thing to be a man, a woman, life is good. Then a mystery of darkness, of night follows. Evil does not come from the source of being itself, it is not equally original. Evil comes from a created liberty, from an abused liberty.

How was this possible, how did it happen? This remains obscure. Evil is not logical. Only God and the good are logical, are light. Evil remains mysterious. It has been presented in great images, as does chapter 3 of Genesis, with the vision of two trees, of the serpent, of sinful man. A great image that makes us guess, but it cannot explain how much in itself is illogical. We can guess, not explain; nor can we recount it as a fact next to another, because it is a more profound reality. It remains a mystery of darkness, of night. However, a mystery of light is immediately added. Evil comes from a subordinate source. With his light, God is stronger and, because of this, evil can be overcome. Therefore, the creature, man, is curable.; but if evil comes only from a subordinate source, it remains true that man is curable. And the Book of Wisdom says: “the creatures of the world are wholesome” (1:14).

And finally, the last point, man is not only curable, he is in fact cured. God has introduced healing. He entered in person into history. To the permanent source of evil he has opposed a source of pure good. Christ crucified and risen, the new Adam, opposed the filthy river of evil with a river of light. And this river is present in history: We see the saints, the great saints but also the humble saints, the simple faithful. We see that the river of light that comes from Christ is present, is strong.

Brothers and sisters, it is the time of Advent. In the language of the Church the word Advent has two meanings: presence and expectation. Presence: The light is present, Christ is the new Adam, he is with us and in our midst. The light already shines and we must open the eyes of the heart to see the light and to enter the river of light. Above all to be grateful for the fact that God himself has entered history as new source of goodness. But Advent also means expectation. The dark night of evil is still strong. And that is why we pray in Advent with the ancient people of God: “Rorate caeli desuper.” And we pray with insistence: Come Jesus; come, give force to light and goodness; come where falsehood, ignorance of God, violence and injustice dominate; come, Lord Jesus, give force to the good of the world and help us to be bearers of your light, agents of peace, witnesses of truth. Come Lord Jesus!

Me

They abstain from sin as a sick man abstains from melons, when told by the physician that if he eats them he will die; but still he longs for them, and bargains for them, and wishes at least to smell them, and envies those who are permitted to eat them.  So, weak and feeble penitents abstain from sin for some time, but it is with regret, and they would be glad to sin if they could do so without being damned.  They speak of sin with feeling and zest, and think those happy who commit it. – St. Francis de Sales

Slaughtering blood death

It would be foolish to underestimate the power and craft of a 2,000-year-old institution with more than a billion adherents and a long legacy of empowering tyrants, slaughtering enemies and dominating Europe.

Gosh, outsiders make us Catholics sound so cool and dangerous.  It’s awesome statements like that really piqued my interest in the Catholic Church.  There is a certain je-ne-sais-quoi about an institution that can invite such words.

When your spiritual or church life is feeling a bit mundane, it is always a useful exercise, as Chesterton said, to try to see the Church as an outsider might.  Get far enough away to see it freshly.  This quote is not an example of this (they’re still too close), but it still is helpful.  We belong to a Church that people can look at, and say…well…this.