The Heresies of Balthasar

For the past month, I have been slogging through Alyssa Lyra Pitstick's monumental tome Light in Darkness, subtitled, "Hans Urs von Balthasar and the Catholic Doctrine of Christ's Descent into Hell." It is a massive work, but tremendously thorough and takes on von Balthasar like few in the post-Conciliar Church have been willing to do. Balthasar is most known, of course, for his idea that we may reasonably hope that hell may be empty, but Pitstick takes the fight to the heart of Balthasar's theology: his doctrine that Christ was abandoned by the Father and suffered the pains of hell on Holy Saturday. As Pitstick demonstrates, this theology of the "Descent" is actually central to all of Balthasar's theology and actually serves as the premise upon which he will build his conclusion that we may hope for universal salvation.

I have not finished the book yet, though I am drawing close. Even so, I can say that Miss Pitstick has done us all a tremendous service in putting this work together. I for one an appalled that so many otherwise orthodox individuals in the Church, from theology professors right on up to John Paul II and Benedict XVI, find Balthasar's theology credible. I dismissed his "hope for universal salvation" theory as completely contrary to our tradition about two seconds after somebody explained it to me, and it mystifies me that so many other learned persons continue to dally with it. But Pitstick's book does more than expose the flawed thinking behind Balthasar's empty hell theory - it exposes him as heretical (or at least extremely counter to tradition) in his Christology, soteriology, Trinitarian theology, sacramental theology, ecclesiology and almost every other area across the theological spectrum, leading the reader to the conclusion that, not only is Balthasar mistaken on his empty hell hypothesis, but his entire corpus of theology is extremely questionable and that this man is far from the trustworthy theologian that Ignatius Press and many in the Magisterium would have us believe.

Case in point (and there are many cases to which we could point); Balthasar's concept of sin. The traditional Catholic concept of sin is that sin is understood as a privation, especially with reference to original sin, which is a privation of grace. St. Thomas says that every sin is a kind of privation, either of "form or order or due measure" (De malo, 2:2). St. Thomas affirms Augustine's teaching on sin as a privation of the good:

"Sin is nothing else than a bad human act. Now that an act is a human act is due to its being voluntary, as stated above, whether it be voluntary, as being elicited by the will, e.g. to will or to choose, or as being commanded by the will, e.g. the exterior actions of speech or operation. Again, a human act is evil through lacking conformity with its due measure: and conformity of measure in a thing depends on a rule, from which if that thing depart, it is incommensurate" (STh, I-II, Q. 71, art. 6).

Here we see Thomas stating that sin is an act that falls short of a standard ("due measure"); in other words, it is a lack of the good, a privation of something that ought to be, although Thomas is careful to explain that sin is not a "pure privation" (I-II, Q. 72, art. 1); in other words, to say it is a privation is not to say that sin is "nothing." Sin is "a word, deed, or desire, contrary to the eternal law" (I-II, Q. 71, art. 6),   "an act deprived of its due order"; since all creatures desire the good, truly or mistakenly, sin occurs when a lesser, perceived good is substituted in place of the eternal good. This act falls short, is defective of perfection, but is nevertheless a real act, though an act whose nature is to be sinful by defect. Thus, sin as an act willed by the sinner is certainly a reality, but it has no ontological existence, nor could it, being understood as a privation.

The Catholic Encyclopedia states:

"The act [of sin] is something positive. The sinner intends here and now to act in some determined matter, inordinately electing that particular good in defiance of God's law and the dictates of right reason. The deformity is not directly intended, nor is it involved in the act so far as this is physical, but in the act as coming from the will which has power over its acts and is capable of choosing this or that particular good contained within the scope of its adequate object, i.e. universal good" (source).

The Catechism of the Catholic Church will also use terms that present sin as a privation; it is a "failure", a "wound" (CCC 1849), the latter of which was a popular term in antiquity and the Middle Ages to explain the concept - just as a wound or sickness is the privation of health, so sin is the privation of the good.

Most readers of this blog are familiar enough with the traditional doctrine of sin as a privation that I don't think I need to cite any more sources to establish it. This is an important point, however, because Balthasar will go on to misinterpret the traditional approach taken by St. Augustine and St. Thomas to mean that sin is "nothing." He will state that the idea of sin as a privation does not adequately grasp the reality of sin's horror.

It stands to reason that, since a privation does not have ontological existence, it cannot be objectively separated from the subject in which that privation is found. One cannot have sickness in and of itself apart from a subject who is sick (we may have a cancer cell isolated in a test tube, but that is not sickness. Sickness does not arise until that cancer attacks a human host, who, as a person, becomes sick due to the absence of health brought about by the cancer). Similarly, we cannot isolate sins from the sinner. The way sin must be handled is to be "washed away", "blotted out" or "expiated" in the context of the restoration of the sinner himself. A piece of wood with a hole in it cannot be repaired by trying to remove the hole from the wood; the hole must be filled in the context of the wood, because a hole can only exist in something.

Balthasar's dissatisfaction with the privation theory of sin leads him to posit a real, ontological existence for sin, contrary to Augustine, Thomas, the implications of the Catechism and almost all of ancient and medieval Catholic tradition. Sin becomes an ontological reality by a sort of negative creation, in which man, by the passion and willfulness that he puts into sinning, turns sin into a positive reality. Balthasar says:

"It is possible to distinguish between the sin and the sinner...Because of the energy that man has invested in it, sin is a reality, it is not 'nothing.'" (Theo-Drama, vol. V, pp. 266, 314).

Because sin has this ontological reality, it can be abstracted from the sinner and, consequently, removed to another locus. Here Balthasar's theology of sin crosses into his soteriology. Because sin is a reality that can be separated from the sinner, it is possible to "load" it on to Christ, who literally assumes the sins of every person in His death, but especially in His Descent:

"[Sin] has been isolated from the sinner...separated from the sinner by the work of the Cross" (ibid., 285, 314).

Thus, because sin is able to be loaded onto Christ, Christ literally takes the sins, and the guilt, of every sinner on to Himself, and in His death and Descent, literally becomes sin, in such a real, metaphysical sense that Balthasar makes the shocking statement that the Incarnation is "suspended" while Jesus is in the tomb:

"Holy Saturday is thus a kind of suspension, as it were, of the Incarnation, whose result is given back to the hands of the Father and which the Father will renew and definitively confirm by the Easter Resurrection" ("The Descent into Hell", Spirit and Institution, Explorations in Theology, vol. IV, pp 411-412).

If all sin and all guilt and all punishment for sin has been loaded upon Christ by the Father, who wills to actively "crush" and punish the Son as if He had sinned, then there is no more wrath or punishment left that any sinner could endure eternally. All his sins have been abstracted from him and loaded on to Christ. Conversely, if there is no wrath left for the sinner, there is no real merit left for the saint, at least in the way traditional Catholic theology has understood it. Here, Balthasar sounds downright Lutheran in his understanding of salvation:

"[The sinner's] hope can only cling blindly to the miracle that has already taken place in the Cross of Christ; it takes the entire courage Christian hope for a man to apply this to himself, to trust that, by the power of this miracle, what is damnable in him has been separated from him and thrown out with the unusable residue that is incinerated outside of the gates of the Holy City" (Theo-Drama, vol. V, 321).

The language of the sinner clinging "blindly" to an act that has already taken place reminds one of the Protestant jargon of "resting in God's finished work"; as with Luther, the sin of man is separated from him and placed on Christ, who in turn bestows upon us righteousness. The difference between Balthasar and Luther here is that Balthasar appears to make the operative principle the virtue of hope rather than faith. Balthasar vehemently denied that his soteriological doctrine was Lutheran, because he emphasized charity and hope along with faith and thus technically did not teach "faith alone" (and Balthasar emphasized the redemptive nature of the Descent, something Luther ignored), but in practice, it seems that Luther and Balthasar are very close together here inasmuch as they both agree in sins being abstracted from the sinner, "loaded" upon Christ who is then punished with God's wrath, and the sinner appropriating the righteousness of Christ by faith-hope in a finished work that has already been completed.

There is so much more we could point to with Balthasar, but here I merely wanted to show how he breaks from Catholic Tradition not only in his teaching of an empty hell, but on many other things as well; in this case, the idea of sin having a positive existence that can be abstracted and separated from the man, as opposed to the traditional Catholic idea of sin as a privation.

I highly recommend Pitstick's book. I will also probably do some more stuff on Balthasar in the future on here because his teachings are so pernicious. I knew he was questionable, but until I read Pitstick's book, I did not understand how truly horrific and contrary to Tradition some of his concepts really are.

Matt. 6:5-6

In the Gospel, our Lord warns us:

"And when ye pray, you shall not be as the hypocrites, that love to stand and pray in the synagogues and corners of the streets, that they may be seen by men: Amen I say to you, they have received their reward. But thou when you shalt pray, enter into thy chamber, and having shut the door, pray to thy Father in secret: and thy Father who sees in secret will repay you." (Matt. 6:5-6).

How often this verse is trotted out by smug atheists whenever Christians try to make any sort of public demonstration of their faith: a prayer chain outside an abortion clinic, a controversy over a manger scene in a public place, prayers of protest outside an adult nightclub or bookstore. Always, this verse is brought out by the opponents of the Church, as if it absolutely prohibits Christians from doing any sort of prayer or evangelizing in public. Just recently someone posted this verse on my Facebook wall when I tried to organize a prayer chain for my community.

What does the Bible say about prayer? This would be too great a topic to take up here, but it suffices to say that there is plenty of "public prayer" throughout the Scriptures, such as those at which Solomon dedicated the Temple, for example. Prayer in the New Testament is often public as well, as all the Temple liturgies that the Apostles participated in were in public (Acts 3), not to mention the greatest manifestation of the Spirit in the New Testament on the day of Pentecost saw the Apostles praying publicly in front of thousands. Not to mention that many of the most memorable prayers of the early Church were those uttered by the martyrs while they stood exposed to thousands in the arena waiting for death, and that in the coming centuries, public processions and public acts of prayer and penance were not only common, but lauded by the Church as an especially efficacious way of securing God's blessing upon a people. Clearly, Christianity, both apostolic and patristic, never understood public prayer to be forbidden by Matthew 6:5.

As with the following verse about not praying with "vain repetitions" (Matt. 6:7), where the emphasis is not so much on repetition as with the repetitions that are vain, Matthew 6:5-6 does not prohibit prayer in front of others in an absolute sense, but rather warns against people praying "that they may be seen by men." That this is so is evident by the contrast Jesus makes between praying "as the hypocrites" and praying sincerely. The prayer of the sincere disciple is "in secret" and seen only by the Father; this contrasts with the prayer that is done to be "seen by men" and is done by the hypocrites. The structure and syntax of the verse makes it clear that was is being condemned here is not praying in front of others, but praying for the purpose of being praised by men and thought pious.

Furthermore, if we were to take this verse in the absolute sense that many atheists would like to attribute to it, it would prohibit us from every praying in front of anybody. Husbands would not be allowed to pray with or in front of their wives or children, teachers at religious schools would not pray before class in front of their students, a minister or bishop could not give an invocation at a college graduation ceremony, nor could a priest even offer the prayers of the Mass, since these occasions all involve praying in the presence of others and the words of the Gospel, if interpreted in an absolute sense, leave no exception; all prayer must be done "in thy chamber" and offered "to the Father in secret." Obviously, no Christian of any denomination has ever suggested such a scenario.

The verse does, however, stress the importance of maintaining a private prayer life and returning to a kind of vital, one-on-one encounter with the Lord that is the inner source of joy and spiritual vitality. Even Jesus was used to retreating to a "remote place" when He wished to pray (Mk. 1:35). So, I do not mean to suggest that Jesus admonition to pray in secret is to be completely interpreted away. We should all have a private, intimate prayer life. But we do need to interpret in context, and the context, coupled with a unanimous tradition, demonstrates that Matt. 6:5-6 in no way prohibits prayer in front of others, but like Christ's other injunctions in the Gospels, asks us to consider of motivations for whatever we do. Anything that we do just to be seen by men is always done out of pride and is to be avoided. But there is nothing wrong with prayer in public or prayer with others for honorable or pious motives.

Join Us in Italy this Summer

Dear readers,

Please allow me to introduce you to a superb opportunity this coming Summer. Yours truly, together with a couple of colleagues, has launched an annual scholastic theology program in the middle of beautiful Italy. This year's program is entitled "Encountering Christ in the Gospels." You can browse the official website for all the details, but let me give you the essentials here:

• Studying the four Gospels, the heart of all theology, by reading them in their entirety together with the commentaries of the great masters of the Catholic tradition: St. Augustine, St. John Chrysostom, St. Cyril of Alexandria, St. Bonaventure, St. Thomas Aquinas. We will also look at a few chapters from Papa Ratzinger's Jesus of Nazareth books.
• The program culminates with an authentic scholastic disputation, complete with objections, sed contras, replies, and the definitive respondeo of the 'Master'.
• Daily Mass and divine office (all in the traditional form!) with the Benedictine Monks of Norcia.
• Location in Norcia, the birthplace of Ss. Benedict and Scholastica.
• Day trips to Assisi and Cascia, and a weekend in Rome for the Feast of Ss. Peter and Paul.
• June 23 - July 7, 2012.
• Only 675 euro for tuition, room, and board. At the moment that is about $879.

Obscure Saints: Henrik of Uppsala

To call St. Henrik obscure is only possible to an English speaking Catholic. For us, he is so obscure that he does not even have an entry in the voluminous 1913 Catholic Encyclopedia. But, to Finnish Catholics, he is the nation's patron and one of the most popular saints of the Middle Ages, and of today.

Henrik was born Henry, an Englishman, sometime in the early 12th century. It is unknown where he began his ecclesiastical career, but in 1152 he appears as a companion of papal legate and fellow Englishman Nicholas Breakspear (later Pope Adrian IV), who spent two years in Scandinavia trying to organize the Church in that region. Henrik appears to have remained behind, where he was later appointed Bishop of Uppsala, primatial See of Sweden, in 1156. This was around one year after Eric IX Jedvardsson, also known as King Eric the Saint, took the throne of Sweden. Henrik, who had a heart for missionary work, found a friend and supporter in the zealous King Eric, who was anxious to spread the Faith into neighboring Finland as a means of not only winning souls, but stabilizing his own borders.

Allegedly, Eric organized a sort of crusade to bring Finland under Swedish rule and spread the Faith, although there is no contemporary evidence of such a military adventure. What is certain is that, at the behest of King Eric, the Bishop of Uppsala was persuaded to go to Finland to spread the Faith in that region. He was not in Finland long when he was murdered by a pagan Finn, to whom tradition assigns the name Lalli. According to some accounts, his martyrdom occurred as a result of Henrik attempting to enforce a canonical penalty on a murderer; in the more popular tale, Henrik stops to purchase some food from a local woman before crossing a frozen lake by slegde. When the woman's husband Lalli returns home, she tells him only that Henrik came and took the food but neglects to mention that he also paid for it. In anger, Lalli follows Henrik out upon the ice of the lake where he murders him and takes his mitre home in gloating triumph. According to tradition, Henrik was martyred on January 20th, 1156.

Finnish cultural tradition has taken a macabre interest in speculating about the fate of Lalli, the murderer. All traditions agree that Lalli died soon after Henrik, unrepentant and tormented. The favorite story of Lalli tells how he came home from the murder wearing the bishop's mitre. When he went to remove it from his head, his scalp came off with it; thus St. Henrik is often depicted in medieval iconography standing on top of Lalli, who is always depicted as bald. Other stories tell of Lalli being pursued relentlessly by a band of mice who constantly tried to eat him alive. There are tales of Lalli climbing a tree or moving from house to house to escape the gnawing mice; finally he seeks refuge at sea, but the mice some how find him and he and the mice end up drowning together. The gnawing mice which relentlessly seek to devour Lalli are an apt symbol of the gnawing of conscience.

Henrik soon became the national saint of Finland, although he was largely ignored outside of Scandinavia. In Scandinavian countries, his feast day (January 20th) is the occasion of a tremendous festival called Heikinpäivä. The Heikinpäivä festival, though originally a Finnish solemnity, is actually more important in other areas of the world that were settled by Finns than in Finland itself, which has lost touch with much of its Catholic past. The region of the world that is best known for its festive celebration of Heikinpäivä is Michigan's Upper Peninsula, which was settled by Finns in the 19th century. The Michigan celebrations are largely civic and cultural in nature, having lost a lot of the relevance to the martyr-saint, but it is still a real treat to visit the north during the time of the this festival.

St. Henrik, ora pro nobis!

Reliability of the Fathers (4 of 7)

In my previous posts on the Church Fathers and their general reliability as authentic interpreters of the truths of the Gospel, we have looked at the objection that the legalization of Christianity fundamentally altered the Church's understanding of itself and its beliefs, that the difference in "cultural horizons" between the Greek and Latin fathers and the Jewish apostles made a faithful transmission of apostolic truth to later generations impossible, and that the transformation of the Church from a Jewish to a Gentile reality made the teachings of the Gentile Fathers unreliable.

Today, we look at the fourth objection of my Protestant interlocutor (the original objections of this interlocutor can be found in post one of this series). In objection four, our interlocutor states that the teaching of the Fathers is unreliable due to:

The rise and dominance of the legalistic and ascetic strains within Christianity.

This is actually two objections: by "legalistic" I assume he is referring to the gradual development of the Church's hierarchical and canonical structure of governance, especially with relation to the "charistmatic" tendencies in the early Church, which though never entirely died out, were less and less prevalent from the 4th century on. By "ascetic", I can only assume he is referring to the rise of monasticism from the late 3rd century onward.

Let's start with the first objection: Do the evolution of a hierarchy governed by canonical norms and the simultaneous rise of monasticism mean that the Church Father's understanding of the Scriptures is flawed or untrustworthy?

First, note that the interlocutor is coming at the early Church with what we could call a hermeneutic of historical rupture. He is operating on the assumption that Early Apostolic Church = No Legalism, but Patristic Church = Legalism.  The interlocutor shares the common Protestant idea that the primitive Church was governed in a decentralized manner with charismatic impulses fulfilling the role that the hierarchy would fulfill later. This is too big an argument to take up here, as it would involve a massive survey of the role of hierarchy in the early Church and the development of what we would call "canon law." I think it suffices to say that asserting that apostolic Christianity was not "legalistic" is based on a false understanding of apostolic church, and that opposing a primitive "charismatic" Church to a latter "hierarchical" or "legalistic" Church is a false dichotomy. I have written about the charismatic vs. institutional concept elsewhere. Regarding whether or not the Church of the apostolic era (late 1st t- mid 2nd century) was "legalistic", we should keep a few things in mind:

The Didache, the earliest Christian document we have outside of the New Testament, is full of what many Protestants would consider "legalisms", for example:

"But concerning baptism, thus shall ye baptize. Having first recited all these things, baptize {in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit} in living (running) water. But if thou hast not living water, then baptize in other water and if thou art not able in cold, then in warm. But if thou hast neither, then pour water on the head thrice in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. But before the baptism let him that baptizeth and him that is baptized fast, and any others also who are able; and thou shalt order him that is baptized to fast a day or two before" (7:1-7).

These are distinctions that modern Protestants would presume to be legalistic - why the preference for running water over still? And why cold rather than hot? And commanding fasting for two days prior? Most Protestants would consider these commands to be legalistic, if for no other reason than that they are not commanded by the New Testament, but in a larger sense, because the convey the message that not only Faith matters, but exactly how the commandments of our Lord are carried out liturgically.

Or consider this passage, also from the Didache:

"And let not your fastings be with the hypocrites, for they fast on the second and the fifth day of the week; but do ye keep your fast on the fourth and on the preparation (the sixth day) day" (8:1-2).

If I were a Protestant and insisted that fasting should only be done on certain days of the week, my teaching would be called "legalist" for the reason that one day would be valued above another. Yet here we have this alleged "legalism" right in the midst of the apostolic era, in fact, in the earliest document outside of the New Testament. The Didache is full of this sort of stuff - the exact words to use in the Eucharist, how many days a prophet is allowed to stay in a home, and, interestingly enough, commands to appoint bishops and deacons (15:1). Yet all of this occurs in the midst of commandments about how to handle visionaries and prophets, and in one verse, it says that bishops and deacons also "perform the service of prophets" (15:2). 

What we gather from this is that those who say that the first generations of Christians were only concerned with living the Sermon on the Mount and living by charismatic impulses are mistaken. The charismatic certainly existed, but it existed side by side with a developing canonical ("legalistic") framework. Furthermore, these two aspects of the Church were not opposed to one another; in fact,  the ideal seems to be that the charismatic is exercised through the hierarchical, as we see in the comment about bishops being prophets.

Not to deny any change between the apostolic era and later generations. The institutional aspect of the Church did become more solidified over time, but that is natural and to be expected with any concept, as Newman said. And it is true that as Christianity became more mainstream, and the average lay Christian became less of an ascetic, that charismatic gifts decreased among the laity. But the point we need to stress here is that there was never a time when a hierarchical, legalistic Christianity "rose" and then "dominated" because Christianity never was an amorphous, non-legalistic movement. The charismatic and hierarchical, the Spirit-filled and "legalist" were all the same movement, and there was no "dominating" of an earlier form of Christianity by a latter. Thus, though the Church developed naturally as it grew, we can discern no radical rupture between an apostolic and a patristic Church, and since there is no rupture in the form of the Church, we should assume no rupture in its teaching or interpretation of the content of Revelation, either.

Not that there was no resistance to hierarchical developments, but interestingly enough, those who most resisted the hierarchical developments and insisted on granting primacy to the charismatic were the heretical groups such as the Marcionites, Montanists and the various Gnostic sects.

Let us move on to the second objection: that the "rise and dominance" of the ascetic strain of Christianity means a disruption in the Church's understanding of Sacred Scripture.  

As with the first objection, this one puts up a false dichotomy between a non-ascetical primitive Christianity and a later Christianity dominated by asceticism. The fundamental error in this thinking is the confusion of ascetical with monastic. The interlocutor is correct if he means that Christianity was not always monastic, but he is sadly mistaken if he thinks it was not always ascetical. Asceticism means the disciplining of the body to bring it into subjection to the higher faculties, especially through fasting and abstinence from external things that, while good, are given up in order that the soul might attain to higher things. This practice of ascecis was always present in the Church, from the virgin martyrs of the first centuries who voluntarily abstained from marriage for the sake of the kingdom, going right back to St. Paul who said:

"Know you not that they that run in the race, all run indeed, but one receiveth the prize. So run that you may obtain. And every one that striveth for the mastery refraineth himself from all things. And they indeed that they may receive a corruptible crown: but we an incorruptible one. I therefore so run, not as at an uncertainty: I so fight, not as one beating the air. But I chastise my body and bring it into subjection: lest perhaps, when I have preached to others, I myself should become a castaway" (1 Cor. 9:24-27).

Monasticism did not spring up until the mid-third century, but asceticism was always with us. Indeed, monasticism was simply a new expression of asceticism, which was necessary as Christianity became an increasingly mainstream movement and ascetics sought new ways to live out their ascecis within the developing Church. But, as with the arguments about the hierarchy, the problem here is in viewing the monastic movement as a radical departure from what had come before. But, once we recognize the presence of the ascetical spirit even in the early, urbanized Christianity of the apostolic era, we see the emergence of monasticism as something that organically flowed from what had come before it and in no way constituted a real rupture, either in practice or belief.

Furthermore, as we established in our first post on this subject, with regards to accuracy of biblical interpretation, the gradual intensification of the ascetical spirit in the monastic movement does not make the Church's interpretive tradition less sure, but rather more certain, as the teachings of the Fathers carry weight "because they are men of eminent sanctity and of ardent zeal for the truth, on whom God has bestowed a more ample measure of His light" (Providentissimus Deus, 14), according to Pope Leo XIII. In other words, the fact that in the third century we start to see incredibly holy men like St. Anthony and St. Paul the Hermit pop up means that, by their ascecis and rigorous life of prayer and penance, they have a greater focus on the truth and a clearer insight into the meaning of the Scriptures.

Based on this, exegesis that comes out of this period is not only consonant with what came before (inasmuch as the monastic movement was an organic development of the earlier ascetical tradition, rather than a new idea that "rose" to "dominance"), but we can expect a more precise development and a greater insight into the spiritual life inasmuch as the desert fathers were eminently holy.

This is a very long post and I do not pretend that it has answered the objections as fully as they could be. But, I do believe that we are mistaken to think the Fathers in general are unreliable just because the hierarchy and the Church's expression of ascecis naturally developed over the centuries. Development does not mean change. Development means development, and as development is natural and organic, and in the case of the Church, Spirit led, what comes prior must be interpreted in light of what comes later. The first century is interpreted in light of the second, the second in light of the third, and so on. There is no real rupture, no real sense in which we can assert that what a Christian of the fourth century understood when he read the Scriptures was radically different than what a Christian of the first century saw.

Next time, we will look at a similar objection based on the development of using the process of "deselection" to establish orthodoxy.

Penance and Satisfactory Punishment

I suppose this post is more of a question than a commentary. I have often noted that penances imposed by most confessors these days are a bit on the light side: praying three Hail Mary's, reading one Psalm, "doing a good deed", or something similar. I have likewise reflected that, were one to make these confessor-imposed penances the sole source of penance in one's life, that individual would still be far from the detached, mortified Christian that the saints envision in their moral exhortations. I wonder, for serious sins like adultery or apostasy, if the penance given by the confessor is too light, is the debt of punishment even wholly made up for?

Suppose someone commits the sin of adultery, which we all agree is a serious sin that incurs a large stain that must be expiated by penance. Now suppose the confessor assigns a penance of three Hail Mary's. Assuming the penitent is properly contrite and has the fitting dispositions, is this penance sufficient to atone for the stain of sin incurred by the sin?

I can only think of three possible solutions:

1) The penance is not sufficient because of a defect in the degree of the penance itself. There remains a debt to be expiated, the amount of which is relative to the insufficiency of the penance. Supporting this approach would be the praxis of the Church throughout the ages, wherein confessors have typically given heavier penances for more serious sins, suggesting that atoning for a more serious sin requires a corresponding penance that is equally weighty. St. Thomas' teaching that the debt of punishment is removed by the imposition of a "satisfactory punishment" that is able to restore "equality of justice" would also support this (I-II, Q. 87, art. 6).

2) The penance is entirely sufficient, not because of the content of the penance itself, but because of good disposition of the penitent in performing it, especially by virtue of obedience to the confessor's command, even though the content of the penance might be materially insufficient. Supporting this position would be the teaching of many of the saints, who state that it is not their penances considered materially that are effacacious (because suffering is not intrinsically good), but rather the degree to which they proceed from charity or obedience. Thus, an act that is in itself neutral can be rendered good by virtue of obedience. This is why St. Thomas calls it a "special virtue" (II-II, Q. 104, art. 2). Therefore, a materially insufficient penance carried out in obedience to a confessor with the proper disposition is able to completely expiate the punishment due to sin insofar as the grace that comes through acting in obedience fills whatever is lacking in this respect. Obedience makes it work.

3) The penance may be neither totally sufficient not totally insufficient, but will be as sufficient as the charity of the penitent makes it. In this scenario, neither the content of the penance nor the factor of obedience determine the sufficiency of the penance, but the intensity of the charity on the part of the penitent (although I would presume the charity must be that much more intense if the penance is materially insufficient). I like this explanation because it can encompass the other two - it does not deny that a penance may be materially insufficient, and also can factor in obedience since, as St. Thomas say, obedience flows from charity (II-II, Q. 104, art. 3). But if this were the case, it would leave the majority of penitents in a bad place, since, if we are operating on the assumption that the vast majority of penances imposed today are materially insufficient, it is up to the penitent to "make up for this" either by extra, self-imposed penances or by performing the materially insufficient penances with an extraordinarily intense degree of charity, which I doubt the vast majority of penitents in this country are doing.

I am not a theologian, and this is something I am a bit foggy on. Does anyone have any light to shed? What happens to the fellow who commits adultery, gets assigned three Hail Mary's, and does them with the proper (but not extraordinary) dispositions? To what degree is the debt of punishment remitted?

FAITH Magazine's definitions of "Inspiration"

In the Diocese of Lansing, we have this magazine called FAITH that gets mailed out for free to the household of every regular Catholic. Though there are some decent elements in FAITH magazine, it often happens that what I read gets my eye twitching; sometimes I have had to take FAITH magazine out to the woodshed (here and here). This month was no surprise. In a section called "Theology 101", the magazine interviews two theologians and asks them to answer "What does the Church mean when it says that the Scriptures are inspired?" Oh boy. (If you want to see the actual source, check out this article from FAITH's website)

The first theologian, a priest from Mundelein Seminary, offers this definition of inspiration:

"The notion of the sacred Scriptures as inspired means that what is in the Scriptures is what God wants to be there, i.e. the Holy Spirit is behind the human words through which God communicates to us. Because of this inspiration of the Holy Spirit, the human words that comprise the Scriptures are trustworthy in regard to both faith and the moral life and contain the revelation of who God is to us, and of who we are in relation to God and to each other."

This definition is not totally deficient, but it gives me pause. In what sense is the Holy Spirit "behind" the words of the Bible? The Holy Spirit could, in the more common sense of the term, 'inspire" me to create a beautiful poem or song. In this common sense of the word inspiration, it could also be said that the Holy Spirit is "behind" the words of my song or poem. But the mere idea that the Holy Spirit is "behind" something does not include the ideas the inerrancy.

Also, this priest's statement that the Scriptures are "trustworthy in regard to both faith and moral life" is also too vague. Trustworthy? The words of Fulton Sheen are trustworthy; heck, the words of Jimmy Akin are generally trustworthy. To use the adjective "trustworthy" in explaining the authority of the Scriptures is vastly deficient, since this can be predicated of any other trustworthy teacher. What needs to be said is that the authorship of the Holy Spirit makes the Bible inerrant and infallible, not simply "trustworthy."

I also hesitate when he says this trustworthiness applies to "both faith and moral life." He seems here to be restricting inerrancy ("trustworthiness") to only those portions of Scripture that have to do with faith and morals, whichever those are! In other words, he appears to be interpreting Dei Verbum 11 in a strict sense, which is not the way the Council intends the document to be interpreted, and not the way Tradition has understood it (see here).

In short, all the answers of this priest are structured in such a way as that it avoids the apparently unpleasant topic of inerrancy. Let's see how the second theologian interviewed explains the concept of inspiration.This second theologian, a lay theologian, also from Mundelein, says:

"The Church has made clear that any ultimate definition of inspiration must consider the very real contributions of both its divine and human authors. Further, the Church has eliminated three inadequate definitions of inspiration because they fail to recognize this balance of divine – human cooperation, namely mechanical dictation, mere assistance and subsequent approbation. Mechanical dictation, often depicted in stained-glass windows as an evangelist writing on a scroll as an angel whispers in his ear, places too much emphasis on God while reducing human cooperation to mere passivity."

Before we go on, we ought to ask ourselves, in what way, and when, has the Church "eliminated" dictation as a way of understanding inspiration? Of course, the theologian offers no evidence to back this up. It is a common theme in modern biblical theology to try to distance oneself from the idea of dictation. Has the Church "eliminated" dictation? I don't think so. Look at the following Magisterial statements:

"For the Sacred Scripture is not like other books. Dictated by the Holy Ghost, it contains things of the deepest importance, which in many instances are most difficult and obscure" (Providentissimus Deus, 5).

"But it is absolutely wrong and forbidden, either to narrow inspiration to certain parts only of Holy Scripture, or to admit that the sacred writer has erred... For all the books which the Church receives as sacred and canonical, are written wholly and entirely, with all their parts, at the dictation of the Holy Ghost; and so far is it from being possible that any error can co-exist with inspiration, that inspiration not only is essentially incompatible with error, but excludes and rejects it as absolutely and necessarily as it is impossible that God Himself, the supreme Truth, can utter that which is not true" (Providentissimus Deus, 20).

"You will not find a page in [St. Jerome's] writings which does not show clearly that he, in common with the whole Catholic Church, firmly and consistently held that the Sacred Books - written as they were under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit - have God for their Author, and as such were delivered to the Church. Thus he asserts that the Books of the Bible were composed at the inspiration, or suggestion, or even at the dictation of the Holy Spirit; even that they were written and edited by Him. Yet he never questions but that the individual authors of these Books worked in full freedom under the Divine afflatus, each of them in accordance with his individual nature and character…" (Spiritus Paraclitus, 8).

We could also look to the Council of Trent, which did not shrink from utilizing the word dictation:

"The sacred and holy, ecumenical, and general Synod of Trent, - lawfully assembled in the Holy Ghost, the same three legates of the Apostolic See presiding therein, - keeping this always in view, that, errors being removed, the purity itself of the Gospel be preserved in the Church; which (Gospel), before promised through the prophets in the holy Scriptures, our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, first promulgated with His own mouth, and then commanded to be preached by His Apostles to every creature, as the fountain of all, both saving truth, and moral discipline; and seeing clearly that this truth and discipline are contained in the written books, and the unwritten traditions which, received by the Apostles from the mouth of Christ himself, or from the Apostles themselves, the Holy Ghost dictating [Spiritu Sancto dictante], have come down even unto us, transmitted as it were from hand to hand..." (Council of Trent, Session IV, Decree Concerning the Canonical Scriptures, 1546).

Clearly, the Church has not "eliminated" dictation. On the other hand, it seems that Tradition actually favors this interpretation of inspiration. I understand that it was not FAITH magazine but the theologians from Mundelein who gave these answers, but FAITH ought to have known better than to publish these inadequate and misleading statements.

It may be objected that the popes and Council of Trent support dictation, but not "mechanical dictation," and this is the phrase the theologian initially uses. Of course, if by "mechanical dictation" the theologian means a sort of inspiration that completely denies the human element (in other words, denies that the Scriptures can truly be said to have human authors), then I would also reject this definition as inadequate. But is this what this theologian means?

The theologian explains dictation by equating it with a very traditional image. Dictation is "often depicted in stained-glass windows as an evangelist writing on a scroll as an angel whispers in his ear." In other words, this theologian sees mechanical dictation as that form of dictation that is traditionally depicted; in other words, the Church's traditional understanding of dictation. Thus, while I do acknowledge that there is the potential for "mechanical dictation" to be something different from simple dictation, the fact that the theologian cites the traditional image of the inspired evangelist receiving the Gospel from the whispering of an angel as an example of mechanical dictation, I can only assume that "mechanical dictation" is the same thing as "dictation", as it is used in the passages above cited.

By the way, if you are wondering what answer the second theologian finally did give to what constitutes inspiration, here is what she offered:

"[A] believing community passes down traditions that capture faithfully their experience of God, and that subsequent generations also experience these as compelling and pass them on until eventually the traditions reach the written form that we now call sacred Scripture."

The emphasis is laid on the experience of the community rather than on the actual, historical revelation of God to an individual person. This is cited as the idea behind the "process" of inspiration, but again, this definition totally leaves out the concept of inerrancy.

I don't know what more to say, except to restate my earlier opinion that this magazine has the nutritional value of styrofoam.

Best Posts of 2011

The year 2011 was my first year since I began this blog that I was not employed by the parish as a DRE and Youth Director, so I had a little bit more time to devote to blogging and felt more freedom to blog about whatever I wanted. The result was some of the most scholarly posts I have ever done (in my opinion). Here are my picks for the top posts of 2011. By the way, if you enjoy this blog, please consider forwarding some of these articles to your friends or "liking" this blog's Facebook page (linked up at the top):

Program for Parish Renewal: First in a four part series of how my pastor took a crazy. liberal parish and transformed it into a bastion of orthodoxy.

Last Supper and Liturgy: Examining the seating arrangement at the Last Supper.

Priestless parishes as a fait accompli?  The tendency of many dioceses to put forward the ideal of a priestless parish as a normative and even desirable state of affairs.

French clergy in the age of Louis XIV: An examination of the moral and intellectual state of the French clergy during the 17th and 18th centuries.

Rob Bell: Stressing the fault lines of Protestantism:  The controversy over Rob Bell's book "Love Wins" reveals an inherent weakness in Protestant thought.

"I am of Paul; I am of Apollos": A refutation to a common Protestant interpretation of 1 Cor. 10:13-17.

St. Augustine did not "invent" original sin: A refutation to the common assertion that the concept of original sin was invented by St. Augustine of Hippo.

Books that won't imperil the soul:  Thirteen recommended books in the fields of theology, philosophy, history and literature.

The JustFaith program is not Catholic: One of my most highly viewed posts of all time on the heretical tendencies of the JustFaith program.

The Assumption: Not a question of history:  Why we believe in the Assumption despite the fact that the dogma is not explicitly taught prior to Council of Nicaea.

Reliability of the Fathers: The first post in a long series about the general reliability of the Church Fathers in establishing what is the true faith.

The Homosexual Compromise: A refutation of the common assertion that homosexual orientation is acceptable in a priest so long as they don't "act on it."

Rectificare Errata: The fake encyclical I posted on April Fool's Day.

A federalist solution to abortion: Why returning abortion laws to the states is a licit strategy for ending abortion in this country.

Liturgical minimalism hurts the poor: The liturgical minimalism done in the name of making the liturgy more accessible to the poor actually hurts the poor.

Authority over demons in the Early Church: In the early Church, average lay people had authority over demons, which they exercised simply by virtue of their baptism.

Is Gandhi in hell? Using Gandhi as an example of how the principle of invincible ignorance is abused.

Speeding up to slow down: How my diocese's attempt to implement the new translation of the Missal actually put our parish behind, at least with regards to music.

What day was Jesus really born? An examination of the evidence in support of December 25th based on the time of Zechariah's service in the Temple.

Law and Tradition: Why, despite the admirable trend towards Tradition in the current Church, tradition itself can never be restored simply by legislation.

Top Ten Careers for Catholics: Ten fields you could go into instead of majoring in "liberal arts."

Christ's descent into hell: An examination of St. Thomas' reasons for why Christ descended to the dead - none of them agreeing with the reasons put forth by Balthasar. Article by Anselm.

Review: St. Anthony: The Miracle Worker of Padua

St. Anthony: The Miracle Worker of Padua is one of those films that you always see in the Catholic film catalog and wonder if it is any good. It is always a crap-shoot with some of these Catholic-produced movies. Some are very good productions but still end up being bad movies, like Leonardo de Filippis' Therese. Others are poor productions by American standards but wind up being phenomenal films; the Spanish language Teresa of the Andes and Teresa de Jesus fall into this category. Some, like Patrick, are bad productions and bad movies, while others, like Padre Pio, wind up being all around decent. Then there are those saint films that are secular productions and may be anywhere on the spectrum, from Man for All Seasons (awesome) to Brother Son, Sister Moon (extremely questionable). Some secular saint films, like Becket are actually wonderful. and In short, when you look at these saint films, there is absolutely no way to know what you are getting in to.

Against this backdrop, St. Anthony comes off pretty well. The most famous episodes of Anthony's life are depicted well, the cinematography is excellent and the score is wonderful. The casting is spot on, with one exception, which I shall get to momentarily. There were a couple of tear-jerking moments, especially towards the end, and the whole film did a decent job of being faith-building. The film dwells not so much on Anthony's external ministry as much as his own internal struggles with pride and his desire to find and fulfill God's will. Like Teresa de Jesus, the focus is very introspective, though it is not handled quite as well.

I should also mention that the film is in Italian with English subtitles. To me this is a plus because subtitled movies are usually better than English language films, but if subtitles aren't your thing, then this movie isn't for you.

The big weakness in St. Anthony; The Miracle Worker of Padua is the same weakness shared by many other feature length films on saints: it spends way too much time developing how Anthony became a saint, focusing on his struggles in his pre-conversion life and his spiritual wandering to the point that by the time Anthony becomes sure of his mission and really starts to look "saintly", the film is practically over. Thus, we end up sitting down to watch a movie about Anthony the Saint but end up getting one about Anthony the worldly knight, Anthony the misguided, would-be Augustinian monk, Anthony the doubtful Franciscan full of inner turmoil but never really get to know Anthony the Saint. By the time the Saint does show up, it is so brief and rushed as to feel somewhat artificial and unbelievable. We have witnessed him struggling with pride, confusion and self-doubt for 75% of the film so that the miracles crammed in to the remaining 25% feel somewhat unrealistic.

This is a problem in many of these saint films; another one that comes to mind is Leonardo de Filippis' Therese, which dwells so exclusively on Therese going into the convent and her early life that, by the time we get to the Little Way, it seems just a footnote in the life of a character who does not come off as saintly at all. Perhaps the directors are trying to make the saints seem more "human"  by depicting these sorts of things in depth. But the fact is, when we watch a saint movie, we do not want to see the saints acting like us and dealing with petty troubles like we do; we want to see them acting saintly; i.e., transformed and transfigured by Christ's grace to be signs of God's presence in an unbelieving world. Paradoxically, in order to make the film believable, the saints should be depicted in a somewhat other-worldly (unbelievable) manner.

I mentioned one huge misstep in casting: while the actor who plays Anthony is perfect, and his side-kick Giulietto is likewise a great pick, the actor cast for the pivotal role of St. Francis of Assisi was terrible. The character is not central to the plot - he only shows up three times, I believe. But the presence of Francis is so important to the development of Anthony, both in the film and in real life, that the poor choice in casting this character is a definite detriment.

What is so bad about him? Well, without getting into too much detail, let's just say he looks and acts like Russell Crowe, which is about the last actor I would ever cast as Francis. Granted, St. Anthony depicts Francis in his older years, but what we have here is not the emaciated, half-blind yet joyful character from Bonaventure's biography, but rather a well groomed, rotund, and gruff character who seems almost too serious to be taken seriously as the Poverello. For all its other problems, at least Brother Son, Sister Moon did a great job in its casting for this part. Too bad St. Anthony missed out on this  important role.

All in all, this movie is decent. It is faith building, fairly historically accurate, and has good acting and cinematography. Like I said, though, it dwells too much on Anthony's struggles and not enough on his saintliness.  I give it two tiaras.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas to all of you, wherever you are! Here is an original composition a good friend of mine wrote. Some of you won't like it because it has drums; most of you will be able to get past that. In any case, Merry Christmas!

What day was Jesus really born?

Since at least the 5th century, the birth of our Lord Jesus has been celebrated liturgically on the 25th of December. This date makes sense in the cycle of feasts, since it falls nine months after the Feast of the Annunciation (March 25th). It is uncertain which feast came first; the Feast of the Annunciation originated sometime between 376 and 431 (Council of Ephesus), but it is not mentioned in the west until the time of Pope Gelasius (496). The Feast of the Nativity (Christmas) was celebrated from at least the third century and seems to have been fixed on December 25th sometime between 350 and 430.

The historical reasons for the dating of Christ's birth on December 25th are shrouded in mystery; many theories have been put forward. Some, denigrating the Catholic tradition, focus on the fact that the pagan feast of the birth of the sun god Sol Invictus also fell on December 25th. Other theories, relating to the winter solstice or to a Scandinavian pagan holy day, also have their supporters. In many cases, the implication of these theories is that Jesus was not really born on December 25th.

How can we tell when Jesus was born? Is there a way to tell when Jesus' real birthday is? Calculating the birthday of Jesus is not easy, and there really is no level of certainty that we can hope for here. Do we know when Jesus was really born? No. Can we use some data from the New Testament to narrow down the possibilities? I believe we can and, surprisingly enough, I think what we find vindicates a December birth for our Lord.

What we really need in examining this question is some fixed date, some event, to which we can "anchor" the events recalled in the Gospel of Luke. We already have a relative chronology: we know that Mary conceived our Lord six months after the conception of Elizabeth, for example. How can we anchor events such as the Annunciation and the Visitation to some concrete date or time?

The closest thing we have is the passage at the beginning of Luke's Gospel regarding the Temple service offered by Zachariah. Zachariah was a priest "of the division of Abijah" (Luke 1:5); this fact will be quite important. While in Jerusalem, "performing his priestly service before God in the appointed order of his division, according to the custom of the priestly office, he was chosen by lot to enter the temple of the Lord and burn incense. And the whole multitude of the people were in prayer outside at the hour of the incense offering. And an angel of the Lord appeared to him." (Luke 1:8-11) The angel Gabriel told Zachariah that his barren wife, Elizabeth, was to bear him a son, and his name was to be John. "And it came about, that when the days of his priestly service were ended, that he went back home. And after these days Elizabeth his wife became pregnant." (Luke 1:23-24)

If we go back to 1 Chronicles 24, we read that the houses of Aaron were divided up into twenty-four "divisions", each serving God in the Temple on a kind of rotation throughout the year (see here). Abijah, the house to which Zachariah belonged, was one of these divisions. If we could find out when the division of Abijah was chosen to serve each year, we would know roughly the date of the conception of John the Baptist, and by adding fifteen months (Six of Elizabeth's pregnancy plus the nine months Mary was pregnant) we could get an idea of when our Lord was born.

The problem is that the Scriptures give us no data on when any certain division was on duty. For this, we have to turn to Jewish history and rabbinical tradition.

Josephus tells us that each division served from Sabbath to Sabbath, eight days, passing their duties on to the next division midday on the Sabbath (Against Apion, 2:8). Each division ended up serving approximately five weeks throughout the year, though this got a little complicated during major feasts (during Passover, for example, all twenty-four divisions served at once). So, pinpointing when Abijah was on duty would give us five potential "windows" of eight days each throughout the year from which to extrapolate our Lord's birth.

But when was Abijah, or any order, on duty?

An interesting point of evidence is that, according to Talmudic tradition, the destruction of the first temple by Nebuchadnezzar in 587 B.C. happened while the family of Jehoiarib was on duty. This event was so deeply burned in the Jewish psyche that it is not surprising they would have remembered what family was on duty. Consider the following passages:

"Good things come to pass on an auspicious day, and bad things on an unlucky day. It is reported that the day on which the First Temple was destroyed was the eve of the ninth of Ab, a Sunday, and in the year following the Sabbatical year, and the Mishmar [division] of the family of Jehoiarib were on duty and the Levites were chanting the Psalms standing on their Duchan (platform). And what Psalm did they recite? - [The Psalm] containing the verse, `And He hath brought upon them their own iniquity, and will cut them off in their own evil.' And hardly had they time to say, `The Lord our God will cut them off,' when the heathens came and captured them. The same thing too happened in the Second Temple." (Ta'anith 29a)

"It is said, The day on which the first Temple was destroyed was the ninth of Ab, and it was at the going out of the Sabbath, and the end of the seventh [Sabbatical] year. The [priestly] guard was that of Jehoiarib, the priests and Levites were standing on their platform singing the song. What song was it? `And He hath brought upon them their iniquity, and will cut them off in their evil.' They had no time to complete `The Lord our God will cut them off,' before the enemies came and overwhelmed them. The same happened the second time." (Arakin 11b).

Now, if Jehoiarib was on duty on the 9th of Ab (July 18th), and we consult the order of the priestly divisions of the sons of Aaron as recorded in 1 Chronicles 24, we see that Abijah was the eighth division and Jehoiarib the first. This means Abijah would have been serving eight weeks after Jehoiarib. Since we have a fixed date on which to place the service of Jehoiarib (July 18th), we can extrapolate the whole cycle and figure out when Abijah was on duty.

Unfortunately, there are many complications to this method, the biggest being that the priestly schedule was disrupted several times. For example, it was disrupted at the time of the Babylonian Exile. For seventy years Ezra 6:15-18 tells us that Ezra and Nehemiah had to reconstitute the divisions on a new schedule after the return from Babylon and even had to create four new orders because four of the old orders had been lost. This schedule was again disrupted at the time of the Maccabees.

Fortunately, we have another reference to the order from closer to Jesus' life: the time of the Second Temple. Like the first destruction, the second destruction also occurred in July (28th) and again, according to Josephus, Jehoiarib was on duty. Despite the disruptions and the creation of new divisions, if we presume that each division at least retained its similar place in the order throughout this time, we can use this method, to find at least eight weeks throughout the year when Abijah would have been serving. They are not even intervals of eight weeks, due to the fact that Abijah would have been serving at major feasts besides the regular intervals. These weeks are:

Jan 18-25
March 19-26
April 18-25
May 17-24
Aug 3-10
Sept 3-10
Oct 3-10
Nov 1-8

Zachariah would have been offering incense during one of these weeks. The fact that a "large multitude" was gathered outside the Temple further tells us that the specific day was probably one of the great feasts, either Passover, Pentecost or the Feast of Tabernacles.

Now, if we presume that Zachariah heard the message of the angel and John the Baptist was conceived during one of these intervals, specifically on one of the great Sabbaths or high feast days, then by extrapolating fifteen more months, we have the following dates as possible times when Christ was born:

Jan. 23
Apr. 10
June 11
July 10
Aug. 8
Oct. 25
Nov. 25
Dec. 25

Note that December 25th is one of the eight possible dates. If this were Christ's birthday, this would place the Annunciation on March 25th (in accordance with Tradition) and the conception of John the Baptist in the vicinity of October 10th. This would place Zachariah's temple service during the week of October 3rd-10th, which actually coincides with the Feast of Tabernacles, which fell during the week of September 29-October 5th in 6 BC.

This explanation is fraught with difficulties. Of course it could have been December 25th, but this explanation also allows for seven other possible dates. And, these dates themselves are all based on extrapolations from some very scanty evidence, mainly a few passages from Josephus. That being said, greater minds than I have certainly came up with this before; it was originated by St. John Chrysostom, though there is even dispute about that (some saying that the work this is found in is spurious). And there is much more reckoning that needs to be done that I omitted for the sake of brevity - calculations of Sabbaths, new moons, etc. spanning centuries, which is why even the Catholic Encyclopedia says such computations based on Zachariah's temple service are "unreliable"  "untrustworthy" and even "hopeless."

Is December 25th really Jesus' birthday? There is no way to tell for certain, but at least we know that the traditional date is not without grounds. We certainly can say that December 25th does have a solid biblical and historic support and allows us to comfortably explain the date of our Lord's Nativity without reference to the Sol Invictus or winter solstice theories.

Here is a good webpage with some more chronological information on Star of Bethlehem and further support for a winter nativity.

What did the Angel say to Mary?

As we celebrate the birth of our Lord later this month, and as the Feast of the Immaculate Conception was this past week, we have will be hearing a lot of readings at Mass about the Nativity of Jesus Christ.

In the account of the infancy narrative of our Lord as recounted in the Gospel of Luke, the verse when Gabriel comes to visit is subject to an unusual amount of creativity in translation. We all know different versions of the Bible translate words differently, but this one verse has more variety than usual.  In Luke 1:28, we have the angel Gabriel appearing to Mary to announce the conception of our Lord. Look at some translations of this passage:

• "And coming to her, he said, “Hail, favored one! The Lord is with you." (NAB)
• "And he came to her and said, "Hail, O favored one, the Lord is with you!"(RSV)"The angel went to her and said, "Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you." (NIV)
• "And the angel came in unto her, and said, Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee." (KJV)
• "And having come in, the angel said to her, “Rejoice, highly favored one, the Lord is with you; blessed are you among women (NKJV)
  
• "The angel came to her and said, "Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you!" (ISV)
• "And the angel being come in, said unto her: "Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women." (Douay-Rheims)
• "Gabriel appeared to her and said, "Greetings, favored woman! The Lord is with you!"(NLT)
• "The Angel entered her presence, and he said to her, “Peace to you, full of grace, our Lord is with you; you are blessed among women.” (Aramaic Bible in Plain English, 2010)

While we could dwell on many elements of this passage, such as whether the correct translation is "favored woman", "highly favored one", or "full of grace", I think the initial greeting of the angel is interesting to look at, too. Does Gabriel say "Hail," "Greetings", or "Peace to you?" I have found that Protestants, who typically use either the New King James or the New International Version, prefer the translation "Greetings" or "Rejoice," frowning on the "Hail" of the Douay, old King James and NAB as implying that Mary has some sort of authority or power. After all, "Hail!" is a salute given to a superior. If the angel said "Hail" to Mary, one could make the argument that she is, in some manner, superior to the angel Gabriel.

The literal word in Greek here is chairō. We immediately encounter a problem in that chairō does indeed mean a formal, military salute or hail, but it can also be translated as greeting. Let's look at some other contexts in the New Testament where chairō is used. I tried to use passages where the translation was pretty much agreed upon between the NAB, RSV, NKJV and NIV:

"And forthwith  he came to Jesus, and said, Hail, master; and kissed him" (Matt 26:49). The passage where Judas betrays our Lord. Clearly, the greeting chairō here denotes authority - a disciple greeting his teacher, and in the case of Jesus, more than just a teacher. Thus, "Hail" makes sense as a translation.

And platting a crown of thorns, they put it upon his head, and a reed in his right hand. And bowing the knee before him, they mocked him, saying: "Hail, king of the Jews."  (Matt. 27:29; Mark 15:18; John 19:3) I do not believe I have ever seen this verse translated in any other way than with the word "Hail." Indeed, "Greetings, king of the Jews" would make very little sense. This suggests that, even if this word chairō can be interpreted as "greetings" at times, it is never a casual greeting, but always a kind of greeting that implies an authority. The inference if this authority is what makes the use of the word by the soldiers so mocking. Had they not been mocking the claims about Jesus' authority, their use of the word chairō would not make any sense.

"And behold Jesus met them, saying: "All hail." But they came up and took hold of his feet, and adored him"  (Matt. 28:9). This verse is often translated "All hail!" in older translations, even Protestant ones, but more often as "greetings" in modern editions, Catholic and Protestant alike. This seems to be due to an evolving understanding of apostolic authority - a gradual shift ecclesiology from viewing the apostles as successors of Christ to viewing them as Jesus' "friends", for whom the salute "greetings" would be more appropriate than "hail." I think this change in ecclesiology was reflected in translation.

"Claudius Lysias to the most excellent governor, Felix, greeting." (Acts 23:26) Here is a case where we definitely can see how chairō would imply authority. If the word chairō meant a simple "hello" or good day" or something neutral, it would not be used by a Roman to salute an imperial governor. We know that what Claudius Lysias actually said to Felix (presuming they are speaking Latin and Luke is translating into Greek), is the word ave, which has unanimously been translated as "Hail" from time immemorial.

What conclusions can we draw here? While I think that sometimes the rendering of chairō as "greetings" might be appropriate, it seems that the context of how the word is used always denotes a kind of superiority or authority in the one to whom it is said, as exemplified by the use of the Latin ave ("hail") in translation. The use of chairō by Claudius Lysias to Felix, a superior, as well as the mocking way in which the Roman soldiers use the phrase when they denigrate our Lord reveals that this word carried with it an implication of authority.

So what did the angel say to Mary exactly? When Gabriel said chairō, he was acknowledging that she had an authority, that she was, in a way, his superior - not in the order of nature (where mankind ranks below the angels), but in the order of grace, where mankind is exalted above the angels and even made to sit in judgment over them. This superiority in the order of grace is why the next words of Gabriel after saluting this singular woman are Kecharitomene, literally "you who have been perfected in grace," but which the Vulgate translated as gratia plena, "full of grace" in the Douay-Rheims. But that is another discussion. It suffices to say that Mary is hailed as having authority over the angel because she is exalted above the angels in the order of grace and is truly Queen of the Angels, who form a kind of "honor guard" around her. Thus says a hymn for Morning Prayer in the Armenian Liturgy for the Feast of the Assumption: "O Mother of God, you are born aloft in the triumphal cars of the Cherubim, with Seraphim for your escort and the arrayed army of heaven’s hosts is prostrate before you." From the Ethiopian Missal comes: "O Mary, heart of the whole world, you are greater than the many eyed Cherubim and the six-winged Seraphim, and heaven and earth are utterly full of the glory of your holiness."

Hail, full of grace!

St. Cyprian on Tradition

Great quote from the Bishop of Carthage on the value of Tradition in discerning the truth when a question is in dispute:

"But there is a brief way for religious and simple minds, both to put away error, and to find and to elicit truth. For if we return to the head and source of divine tradition, human error ceases; and having seen the reason of the heavenly sacraments, whatever lay hid in obscurity under the gloom and cloud of darkness, is opened into the light of the truth. If a channel supplying water, which formerly flowed plentifully and freely, suddenly fail, do we not go to the fountain, that there the reason of the failure may be ascertained, whether from the drying up of the springs the water has failed at the fountainhead, or whether, flowing thence free and full, it has failed in the midst of its course; that so, if it has been caused by the fault of an interrupted or leaky channel, that the constant stream does not flow uninterruptedly and continuously, then the channel being repaired and strengthened, the water collected may be supplied for the use and drink of the city, with the same fertility and plenty with which it issues from the spring? And this it behooves the priests of God to do now, if they would keep the divine precepts, that if in any respect the truth have wavered and vacillated, we should return to our original and Lord, and to the evangelical and tradition; and thence may arise the ground of our action, whence has taken rise both our order and our origin" (St. Cyprian of Carthage, Letter 73:10).

Books Won't Imperil The Soul

A while back, someone suggested to me that I expand on my "Books That Won't Imperil The Soul" category on the sidebar and give a list of great books that would serve as ideal Christmas gifts while being edifying to the soul and enlightening to the mind. I think this is a great idea! So, without further ado:

Boniface's Christmas List of 15 Books that Won't Imperil the Soul (and Make Good Gifts)

To make it easier, I have divided these books into four categories based on content: History, Philosophy, Theology-Spirituality, and Literature. I have also divided them by difficulty - Beginner, Intermediate and Challenging, based on how much of a chore they are to read through and how much prior knowledge in the subject matter they require to comprehend. Each title also contain a direct link to the book on Amazon; I will also link them on the sidebar.

HISTORY

(Beginner) The Birth of France: Warriors, Bishops, and Long-Haired Kings by Katharine Scherman, 1987 (323 pages). Excellent history of the Merovingian kings of France, with all their glory and debauchery. The book is detailed and engaging but appropriate to someone new to the subject matter. Very colorful portrayal of an important era of French (and Church) history.

(Intermediate) Henry VIII by J.J. Scarisbrick, 1968 (561 pages). An extremely thorough yet readable biography of Henry VIII that is pretty even handed in its approach. The author takes care to really delve into the theological and canonical background of the divorce case. Catholics will feel the author has handled the material well. Very long, but worth the read.

(Challenging) The Rise and Fall of the Hapsburg Monarchy by Victor Tapie, 1969 (430 pages). This is an extremely dense book that takes you through the political and economic minutiae of the Hapsburg monarchy from the 15th century until World War I. Prior knowledge of basic Austrio-Hungarian history is necessary.


PHILOSOPHY

(Beginner) Darwin, Marx, Wagner: Critique of a Heritage by Jacques Barzun, 1958 (400 pages). Great historical-philosophical critique of Darwin, Marx and Wagner, whom the author all associates together as being positivists in their respective realms of science, politics and music. The author is not necessarily Catholic friendly, but he offers well thought out critiques of Darwinism, Marxism and modern music.

(Intermediate) Philosophy and Civilization in the Middle Ages by Maurice de Wulf, 1958 (299 pages). This little book is a wonderful overview of the interrelationship between philosophy and civilization in the medieval period. After looking at the tension inherent in the relationship between philosophy and theology, the author affirms the harmony between the two engendered by medieval civilization and the patronage of the Catholic Church.

(Challenging) The Christian Philosophy of St. Thomas Aquinas by Etienne Gilson, 1994 (502 pages). Classic on Thomistic theology, centering on the difference in Thomas' doctrine of esse from other philosophers. You'd better be proficient in Thomism to master this one.

LITERATURE

(Beginner) Platitudes Undone by G.K. Chesterton, 1997 (105 pages). Hilarious and unique book; a facsimile reproduction of a book by Holbrook Jackson that G.K.C marked up, mocking Jackson's trite, Victorian platitudes. Great reading, and not too much of a commitment.

(Intermediate) My Antonia by Willa Cather, 2006 (272 pages). I was surprised how much I liked this book; one of the best American novels ever written, set in the American prairie of the late 1800s. Catholicism is treated in an interesting way; wife thought it was anti-Catholic, I thought it was pro-Catholic. Very sentimental and worth the time.

(Challenging) The Possessed by Fyodor Dostoevsky, 1954 (704 pages). Dostoevsky's greatest work, in my opinion. A frightening profile of the madness that is the logical conclusion of nihilism. Nobody delves into the human psyche quite like Dostoevsky, especially when revealing the malice potential in that psyche.


THEOLOGY

(Beginner) The Sign of the Cross by Msgr. Gaume, 2007 (158 pages). This little book has an astounding amount of history and insight on the Sign of the Cross, much of it information I had never come across anywhere else. Lots of small chapters make it easy to break down and read with ease.

(Intermediate) Three Conversions of the Spiritual Life by Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, 2002 (112 pages). Classic work of spiritual theology on the three conversions of soul a believer must go through on his path to Christian perfection, written by one of the 20th century's greatest theologians.

(Challenging) Poena Satisfactoria by John Joy, 2010 (106 pages). Have to recommend Anselm's book here, not because he is a better theologian than Lagrange, but because Largrange's book is more for popular consumption while Anselm's masterly inquiry into St. Thomas' theory of atonement is for a more scholarly audience. See here for my review of this excellent little treatise on Thomistic soteriology.

Finally, let me offer my "wildcard" book suggestion, which is just a kind of off the wall book that I picked up and happened to really enjoy but that kind of crosses categories:

The Arcanum: The Extraordinary True Story by Janet Gleeson, 1999 (336 pages). This is a fascinating book about the history of the discovery of porcelain by a German alchemist in the mid 18th century. This book tells a truly fascinating story of how crackpot alchemist Johann Frederick Bottger was locked up by the Duke of Saxony after boasting he could transmute lead into gold. The greedy Duke confined the hapless con-man in a tower, and in a Rumpelstiltskin like arrangement, giving him so much time in captivity to come up with gold before being put to death. In his panic to come up with gold, Bottger ended up discovering the secret of manufacturing porcelain on accident. This book is part investigative journalism, part science, and part history, but very interesting all the way around and skillfully written as well.

Hopefully all of this can give you some ideas for Christmas gifts for the discriminating reader!