“God,” states the opening chapter of Genesis, “created man in his image … male and female he created them” (1:27). The Catechism of the Catholic Church, remarking on this foundational…
“God,” states the opening chapter of Genesis, “created man in his image … male and female he created them” (1:27).
The Catechism of the Catholic Church, remarking on this foundational fact, says that everyone, “man and woman, should acknowledge and accept his sexual identity. Physical, moral, and spiritual difference and complementarity are oriented toward the goods of marriage and the flourishing of family life” (No. 2333). Needless to say, this is unpopular for many, today. Not only are the Church’s perennial teachings on marriage and family under attack, the long-standing acceptance that men are men and women are women (and both are “Man”) has rapidly eroded in recent years. The so-called bathroom wars are indicative of this development regarding “gender” — a remarkably elusive and fluid term. But the conflicts are not merely “out there” in the secular public square. Sadly, this is becoming normal, despite being abjectly abnormal.
How did we get here? There are, of course, numerous factors. But I reflect here on a foundational — yet oft-neglected — theological and philosophical factor: the rejection of realism and the embrace of nominalism.
Realism, stated simply, is the belief that reality can be known and described as it really is. Further, realism — especially as taught by St. Thomas Aquinas — emphasizes that “universals” exist and can be known. So, not only is my golden retriever a dog, the reality of “dog” is a universal reality; there truly is an objective “dog-ness” that can be recognized, named and studied. He also taught we can know reality because it is the creation of a rational, divine Intellect — all that is came into being through the Logos, the Eternal Word, and we are able to use words to rightly name and describe what we observe, know and think.
Then along came nominalism. Much has been written about this fateful school of thought, but one of the most accessible is Richard Weaver’s 1948 book “Ideas Have Consequences.” Denouncing the growing assault on language and objective truth, Weaver placed much blame on William of Ockham (c. 1285–1347), who, he said, “propounded the fateful doctrine of nominalism, which denies that universals have a real existence. His triumph tended to leave universal terms mere names serving our convenience.”
Weaver then zeroed in on this key point: “The issue ultimately involved is whether there is a source of truth higher than, and independent of, man; and the answer to the question is decisive for one’s view of the nature and destiny of humankind.” Nominalism (from the Latin nomen, or “name”) marked a radical shift in how to view and understood both God and reality. Rather than reality being understand and perceived by one’s intellect — that is, by looking outside of oneself — reality became increasingly a matter of sensation and subjective perceptive — that is, by looking inside of oneself for ultimate meaning. “With this change in the affirmation of what is real,” Weaver noted, “the whole orientation of culture takes a turn, and we are on the road to modern empiricism.” Once objective, transcendent reality was questioned and then denied, truth was the next logical victim in the confusing drama called modernity.
As Michael Allen Gillespie demonstrates in “The Theological Origins of Modernity” (2008), a central figure in this upheaval of nominalism was German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900). “There are no facts,” claimed Nietzsche, “only interpretations.” Thus — fast-forwarding to today — there is no “man” or “woman,” only a smorgasbord of genders and identities.
One result of all this, Gillespie shows, is the belief that human beings “had no supernatural end or telos.” In short, man now has to create his own meaning; he, she or “it” must summon up their own reality and “truth.” But man is made to know God and be known by God, to find ultimate meaning. The creation of countless “genders” is just one way God’s creatures seek to be their own creator, grasping at the tantalizing fruit offered by the serpent who whispers, “You will be like gods” (Gn 3:5).
Carl E. Olson is the editor of Ignatius Insight (www.ignatiusinsight.com). He and his family live in Eugene, Ore.
I once wrote a column titled “I Believe in Seeking, Not Believing,” in which I expressed my frustration with the incoherent beliefs (though rarely expressed as “beliefs”) of people I…
I once wrote a column titled “I Believe in Seeking, Not Believing,” in which I expressed my frustration with the incoherent beliefs (though rarely expressed as “beliefs”) of people I termed “SNBers” — “seekers, not believers.”
One such SNBer had e-mailed me and explained, rather confidently and with obvious satisfaction, that he was not a narrow-minded believer (like me!), but an open-minded “seeker.” The journey and the seeking, he explained, is what life is really all about — not knowing, believing or finding. Just seeking. Seeking is open-minded, believing is close-minded. Seeking is intelligent, believing is silliness. Seeking is enlightened, believing is superstitious.
Ditto for those who say, “I’m spiritual, not religious.” A common variation is, “I’m into spirituality, not organized religion.” Twenty years ago, a book was published with the title “Religion in Britain Since 1945: Believing Without Belonging.” Increasingly, however, there is neither belonging nor believing. A 2001 census in Britain found that 14.8 percent of the population said they adhered to no religion. By 2011, that number was higher than 25 percent.
What to make of those who claim to be spiritual but eschew what they label “religious”? First, I’d like to point out that Christianity agrees with the term “spiritual,” for the simple reason that man was created in the image and likeness of God so that he could have communion and fellowship with God. “A spiritual creature,” explains the Catechism of the Catholic Church, “man can live this friendship only in free submission to God” (No. 396). It is that latter part — the bit about free submission to God — that is the problem for many, for it brings into sharp relief three closely related issues: authority, truth and freedom.
The authority in question is not just any authority, but is almost always the authority of either the Church or the Bible. Everyone must eventually appeal to some source of authority. Yet some “spiritual” seekers want it both ways, such as when they appeal to reason — apparently a universally accessible and objective source of truth — while insisting that no one can really know or apprehend truth itself. Shortly before being elected to the papacy in 2005, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger wrote a brilliant book, “Truth and Tolerance” (Ignatius Press), in which he observed: “To lay claim to truth for one religion’s particular expressions of faith appears today, not merely presumptuous, but an indication of insufficient enlightenment.” He described this prevailing disregard for truth as “the dogma of relativism,” a term that aptly captures the contradictory nature of relativism, which says there is not truth — and that’s the truth! Likewise, the spiritual but not religious person will eventually, if push comes to shove, express his spiritual views in doctrinal terms and with dogmatic certitude, even if he continues to deny the existence of any absolute, objective truth.
A related irony is that the spiritual seeker says, “It is too narrow and confining to follow a single religion.” And so, instead, he assuredly follows none — as if having nothing is somehow better than really having something! This, it seems, is a profound expression of his tremendous freedom. He is so free he need not choose anything at all. And freedom, it must be emphasized, is the essential point. The very concept of freedom, even poorly considered, hints at a deeper purpose and goal: the freedom to do this or to be that. But why? That’s a good question. The spiritual but not religious man denies authority through the exercise of his personal authority; he rejects truth in name of his personal “truth,” and he insists on freedom, but without a basis or a goal. This, Cardinal Ratzinger warned, will not suffice: “If there is no truth about man, then he has no freedom. Only the truth can make us free.”
Carl E. Olson is the editor of Ignatius Insight (www.ignatiusinsight.com). He and his family live in Eugene, Ore.
Note: Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI died on Saturday, Dec. 31, 2022 at the age of 95. He served as pope from April 19, 2005, until his resignation on Feb. 28,…
Note: Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI died on Saturday, Dec. 31, 2022 at the age of 95. He served as pope from April 19, 2005, until his resignation on Feb. 28, 2013.
………….
I’ve long thought that Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI has never received full (if any) credit for something that shines through in his many splendid writings: a keen, dry sense of humor.
One of my favorite examples is found in his first “Jesus of Nazareth” book (Doubleday, 2007) in the chapter on the temptations of Jesus. Remarking on the second temptation proffered by the devil to Jesus, Pope Benedict notes how the devil “cites Holy Scripture in order to lure Jesus into his trap.” He points out that the “devil proves to be a Bible expert who can quote the Psalm exactly,” and then wryly observes, “The whole conversation of the second temptation takes the form of a dispute between two Bible scholars.” What a great image!
Rather unexpectly, he refers to the short story “The Antichrist” by the Russian philosopher Vladimir Soloviev, which describes the Antichrist receiving an honorary degree in theology from the University of Tübingen and being “a great Scripture scholar.” Readers familiar with Pope Benedict’s personal history know that in 1966, after serving as a theological expert at the Second Vatican Council, then-Father Joseph Ratzinger accepted a position teaching theology at Tübingen — the epicenter of the historical-critical movement of the 19th century. Historical criticism is an approach to studying Scripture with roots in the Protestant Reformation that emerged in full force in the 17th and 18th centuries; it uses various scholarly and scientific tools (source criticism, form criticism, redaction criticism, etc.) to ascertain the original, or “primitive,” meaning of an ancient text — especially biblical texts. Father Ratzinger, then, was well acquainted with scholars who used historical-critical methods. He also knows how many scholars used these methods to undermine, question and even directly attack Christianity. “The alleged findings of scholarly exegesis,” he wrote, “have been used to put together the most dreadful books that destroy the figure of Jesus and dismantle the faith.”
For example, in 1835, the polemical liberal Protestant writer David Strauss (1808-74), drawing upon the Tübingen school’s work, wrote Das Leben Jesu, kritisch bearbeitet(“The Life of Jesus, Critically Examined”), the most influential “life of Jesus” of the 19th century. He presented Jesus as a fanatical Jewish preacher with delusions of messianic grandeur and insisted the Gospels were mostly legend and folklore. The influence of his bare-bones story of an itinerate preacher who proclaimed the Kingdom can be seen in the work of the modern-day Jesus Seminar, which has rejected as unhistorical or wildly exaggerated nearly every narrative in the Gospels.
Pope Benedict gets right to the heart of the matter: “The common practice today is to measure the Bible against the so-called modern worldview, whose fundamental dogma is that God cannot act in history — that everything to do with God is to be relegated to the domain of subjectivity.”
A perfect poster theologian for this dogmatic subjectivity is the former episcopal bishop John Shelby Spong, who has authored numerous books explaining that nothing in the Gospels can be taken literally or at face value, and that Protestant and Catholic understandings of God as Triune are “heretical.” For Spong, echoing Strauss, everything is about subjective, mystical experience. Oddly enough, this doesn’t stop him from uttering endless judgments on orthodox Christianity with an authoritative arrogance that would make a pope cringe in shame. Spong insists that orthodox Christianity is, in fact, “fundamentalist.” I don’t know if Pope Benedict has read Spong, but he does state that the Antichrist, “with an air of scholarly excellence, tells us that any exegesis that reads the Bible from the perspective of faith in the living God, in order to listen to what God has to say, is fundamentalism.” This entire dispute over interpreting Scripture, he notes, is really “about who God is.” Scholarship is a good thing, of course, but reason without humble faith in the living God can lead to serious error, or ruin. After all, the devil is a Bible scholar — and “he is a liar and the father of lies” (Jn 8:44).
Carl E. Olson is the editor of Ignatius Insight (www.ignatiusinsight.com). He and his family live in Eugene, Ore.
This question is hard to answer directly. Simply put, St. Mark’s Gospel doesn’t contain as much material as those Gospels attributed to St. Matthew, St. Luke or St. John. When…
This question is hard to answer directly. Simply put, St. Mark’s Gospel doesn’t contain as much material as those Gospels attributed to St. Matthew, St. Luke or St. John.
When comparing Mark’s with the other canonical Gospels, particularly the other synoptics, it is obvious that that there are various stories or episodes from the life of Christ that are left out of his. Also, while Matthew and Luke record details of Jesus’ birth and infancy and his genealogy, Mark’s begins with Christ’s baptism — at the inauguration of his public ministry.
Jesus’ own words are more limited in Mark’s Gospel as well. What was recorded is not as lengthy or verbose, as would be in the case of a Gospel like St. John’s. There are not as many parables or teachings of Jesus appearing in St. Mark’s Gospel, but there is an emphasis on his role as wonderworker and healer.
St. Mark’s Gospel was once thought to be a summary of St. Matthew’s Gospel, although that it is no longer the opinion held by the majority of scholars, who are mostly in agreement today that St. Mark’s Gospel is the oldest — derived from the teaching of St. Peter, of whom St. Mark was a disciple.
The Gospels were written primarily for an already Christian audience and secondarily as a tool for evangelization. The Gospels would therefore have had a limited audience at first, given Christianity’s status within the Roman Empire. Since St. Mark’s is considered the oldest Gospel, it makes sense that he would not have necessarily included details that would have been more important to those needing convinced that Jesus was Lord.
And when speaking of the brevity of St. Mark’s Gospel, it is significant to indicate that its original form is believed to have been even shorter. First ending with the discovery of the empty tomb alone, there is an addition to the end that included a post-narrative of the resurrection.
Michael R. Heinlein is editor of Simply Catholic.
In the thirteenth century, a devotion to Jesus and Mary began under the titles of the “Sacred Heart of Jesus” and the “Immaculate Heart of Mary.” The heart is the…
In the thirteenth century, a devotion to Jesus and Mary began under the titles of the “Sacred Heart of Jesus” and the “Immaculate Heart of Mary.” The heart is the source and center of life, and life flows out to the faithful from the hearts of Jesus and Mary. St. Bonaventure focused in particular on the wound to the heart that Jesus received from the spear of the Roman centurion. From that wound, blood and water flowed — a sign that Jesus gave everything for us (see Jn 19:34). Devotion to the heart of Mary draws from the Gospel of Luke (2:35), in which Simeon tells Mary,“A sword will pierce through your own soul.” Simeon prophesied that Mary would share in the sufferings of her Son and Redeemer, Jesus.
In the seventeenth century, St. John Eudes promoted these devotions. He also developed Mass texts and daily readings focused on the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Admirable Heart of Mary. He proposed that both be made into feasts in the Church’s liturgical calendar.
As the devotion to the Sacred Heart spread, a cloistered nun, Sister Margaret Mary Alacoque, received a series of visions. Christ himself directed St. Margaret Mary to foster devotion to His Sacred Heart. One of these devotions was to make the first Friday of each month a special day of observance. Specifically, the devotion involved receiving Holy Communion on nine consecutive first Fridays with the intention of making reparation to “the Heart that has loved men so and is loved so little in return.” Jesus told St. Margaret Mary of His great love for souls and His desire to shower His mercy on those who were devoted to Him. He revealed several promises for those who lovingly practiced the First Friday devotion. Among the promises were: final perseverance in the Catholic faith, reception of the sacraments before death, and death in the state of grace, as well as the consolation of Christ’s love at the time of death.
Devotion to the Immaculate Heart of Mary developed alongside devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. The heart of Mary mirrors the heart of Jesus both in great love and in sharing His suffering. This devotion increased after the appearances of the Blessed Mother to three children of Fátima, Portugal, early in the twentieth century.The Blessed Mother told the eldest of the children that she would “assist at the hour of death with all the graces necessary for the salvation of their souls” all who, for five months, on the first Saturday of each month:
- confess their sins,
- receive Holy Communion,
- recite the Rosary,
- and keep Mary company for fifteen minutes while meditating on the fifteen mysteries of the Rosary,
- all offered in a spirit of reparation.
Of course, all of this assumes the context of a prayerful life and the struggle for holiness. It would be blasphemy to approach the hearts of Jesus and Mary in supplication while fully intending to continue a life of sin.
Our Hearts
We want to mirror the heart and mind of God. We want to see people, the world, and every situation with God’s eyes. We want to love as He loves. We want a heart like His. If we have such a heart, we will begin to love as God loves; yet we will also begin to know how much God is offended by the sins of the world. Then, with such love joined to such a horror of sin, we will want to make reparation for our sins and the sins of others.This is the way that Jesus and Mary loved: by offering their lives to atone for the failings of others.
As we meditate on the hearts of Jesus and Mary, we see the great love they have, even for sinners, and we see how God continues to reach out in love and forgiveness. But we also see how poorly people respond to this loving invitation to life and relationship with God. Some go so far as to actively reject God. We begin to obtain a glimpse of the injustice of habitual sin, which rejects God and abuses His mercy.
The suffering and rejection of the cross continues, but the mercy and grace of God continue to flow to men and women in our time.
Jesus and Mary, make our hearts like yours!
PRAYERS
To Be United with the Heart of Jesus
O Heart all lovable and all loving of my Savior, be the Heart of my heart, the soul of my soul, the spirit of my spirit, the life of my life and the sole principle of all my thoughts, words, and actions, of all the faculties of my soul, and of all my senses, both interior and exterior. Amen.
— St. John Eudes
A Prayer of Adoration
From the depth of my nothingness, I prostrate myself before You, O Most Sacred, Divine, and Adorable Heart of Jesus, to pay to You all the homage of love, praise, and adoration in my power. Amen.
— St. Margaret Mary Alacoque
Collect for the Feast of the Sacred Heart
Clothe us, Lord God,
with the virtues of the Heart of your Son and set us aflame with his love,
that, conformed to his image,
we may merit a share in eternal redemption. Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
To the Immaculate Heart of Mary
O Sorrowful and Immaculate Heart of Mary, Queen of the Most Holy Rosary, and Queen of the World, rule over us, to- gether with the Sacred Heart of Jesus Christ, Our King. Save us from the spreading flood of modern paganism; kindle in our hearts and homes the love of purity, the practice of a virtuous life, an ardent zeal for souls, and a desire to pray the Rosary more faithfully.
Taken from “The How-To-Book of Catholic Devotions” by Mike Aquilina and Regis J. Flaherty.
Few Protestants raise an eyebrow over the fact that there is a 2,000-year lacuna between the Scripture’s inspiration and their personal copy of sacred Scripture. For them, what transpired in…
Few Protestants raise an eyebrow over the fact that there is a 2,000-year lacuna between the Scripture’s inspiration and their personal copy of sacred Scripture.
For them, what transpired in those intervening years really isn’t very important. What really matters is that they have a Bible and that they can use it to confirm doctrine. As long as we end up with a Bible, what harm is done? But it still begs the larger question: Where did the Bible come from?
The Bible is the product of those missing 2,000 years, and when it is divorced from the Catholic Church from which it came, Scripture’s authority is undermined. The fact is that the Bible is a Catholic book. It was written, authenticated and passed on to us today through the Church. In many ways, the Church is the Bible’s custodian and interpreter. Without the Church, we really have no rational basis to believe with certainty that the Bible we possess is the Bible and that it is capable of confirming doctrine.
“Not Done in a Corner”
Let’s consider this last statement from the perspective of the first Christians. The words and deeds of Christ and His inspired apostles were not done in secret, or, as Paul told King Agrippa, they were “not done in a corner” (Acts 26:26); they were done publicly. The writings of the New Testament were composed by members of the same community that heard, saw and were taught by Jesus and/or His apostles and disciples. Therefore, this first Christian community functioned as a guarantor of the truthfulness or veracity of the Gospels and the rest of Scripture. After all, who would risk their lives, fortunes and honor to promote spurious and inaccurate documents? If the Scriptures simply parachuted into existence, there would be no witness from the early Church. How then would we know whether the Gospels and other books were telling the truth, much less that they are capable of confirming doctrine?
Someone could argue that since the Scriptures are inspired by God, who cannot deceive nor be deceived, they must be trustworthy. But this response misses the point. It’s not a question of whether inspiration conveys truth. It is a question of what basis is there for knowing whether a given document is inspired and truthful. It is similar to the question, “How do you know Matthew wrote the Gospel of Matthew?” Most Bible Christians would point to the fact that Matthew’s name appears on the book’s cover page. The title, however, was not part of the inspired original. It was added later by Catholics who knew that the Gospel was traced back to Matthew. Without these Catholic witnesses, how would one know the Gospel’s authorship? We can’t. Without the Church, we really can’t establish the veracity of the Gospels or the rest of the contents of the New Testament.
Inspired, Not Spurious
How do we know that the writings of Scripture are from inspired sources and not spurious? The Church had to deal with this difficulty early on. In 2 Thessalonians 2:2, we learn that the Thessalonians were upset by “a ‘spirit,’ or by an oral statement, or by a letter allegedly from us [the apostles] to the effect that the day of the Lord is at hand.” How did the Thessalonians determine whether or not this letter was spurious? Paul gives them the means to authenticate his letter in 2 Thessalonians 3:17: “This greeting is in my own hand, Paul’s. This is the sign in every letter; this is how I write.” Paul knew that the recipients of his letter would recognize his signature and handwriting based on their own personal knowledge of Paul. By using this knowledge, the Thessalonians were able to confirm the Second Epistle to be authentic. Without the Catholic community’s witness to its authenticity, how would we know whether or not Paul wrote this letter? The original inspired autograph no longer exists, and even if it did exist we no longer have access to the knowledge that the Thessalonians had concerning Paul’s handwriting. Scripture, when removed from the context of the Catholic Church, loses an objective basis for demonstrating the New Testament’s authenticity.
The Canon
There is also the problem of the canon. The New Testament began as separate documents. Who gathered these documents together and placed them into a single volume? A generic answer like “the early Christians did” is simply inadequate. Early on there were several different groups who held to different “canons” of Scripture. For example, one group, called the Marcionites, only accepted the letters of Paul and an adulterated version of Luke as Scripture. On the other hand, the Ebionites rejected Paul’s letters and accepted an altered form of the Gospel According to Matthew. Even among the Jews there was disagreement over the Old Testament. The schools of Shammai and Hallel were split over Ecclesiastes’ sacred status. The Essenes seem to have rejected Esther, but accepted Tobit, Sirach and some of their own writings as sacred. Which one was right? Or, were any of them right? Without a single, authoritative, identifiable Church — that is, the Catholic Church — to show us what was the true canon, there is no adequate way to answer this question.
But couldn’t someone say that these groups do not pose a problem because they were heretical? For example, one could say that post-Christian Judaism can be eliminated because they rejected Jesus as the Messiah? Likewise, the Ebionites can be scratched off because they denied justification by grace. The Marcionites could be eliminated because they were Gnostics and believed in two gods, and so on.
After all these heresies are eliminated, the true Christians would be left and with them we would find the correct canon. Unfortunately, the objection above fails because it begs the question. The objector begins with a specific canon of Scripture in mind (which is presumed to be true) and then de-duces from his canon a set of doctrines (which is also assumed to be true) as the standard to judge other groups. Once all challengers are eliminated by the objector’s set of doctrine, his canon is “proved.” In other words, the objector uses a scriptural canon to form a set of doctrines, then uses the set of doctrines to prove his scriptural canon.
The true canon of Scripture is something more to be discovered than determined. The Church received its sacred writings from the apostles, and the Catholic Church manifests the true canon of Scripture by its continuous use of certain books as sacred Scripture in its liturgies. Without the Catholic Church, the canon cannot be made manifest, and if the canon is not made manifest then it is up to each individual Christian to determine which books should or should not be included in Scripture.
The Bible, therefore, is really a Catholic book in that it came from the very heart of the Catholic Church. Its authenticity, veracity, canon and proper interpretation all depend upon the witness of the Church. When the Bible is taken out of its Catholic context, the very foundation upon which we can know that the Scripture is inspired, true, authentic, complete and properly understood is undermined. Without the Church, the Scripture is no more defensible than if it had one day fallen out of the sky.
The Catholic Context
In regards to the proper understanding of the Bible, Scripture is most properly understood within the context of the Catholic faith. Apart from this faith, Scripture can be distorted and misunderstood, as 2 Peter 3:16 tells us when he warns that “the ignorant and the unstable distort [the Scriptures] to their own destruction.” The words translated “ignorant” (Greek oi amatheis) and “unstable” (Greek astriktos) do not convey their full meaning in English. These words really mean “the undiscipled” and “those who do not remain in the apostolic teaching.” In other words, the people who distort the meaning of Scripture are those who are not discipled by the Church and do not remain in the Church’s teaching. Notice how Peter’s words presumes that there exists a master/disciple succession that comes from the apostles and a rule of faith (regula fidei) that must be continuously held. Without these two factors, the proper meaning of the Scriptures is in peril.
The Task of Interpretation
“The task of giving an authentic interpretation of the Word of God, whether in its written form or in the form of Tradition, has been entrusted to the living teaching office of the Church alone. Its authority in this matter is exercised in the name of Jesus Christ.” This means that the task of interpretation has been entrusted to the bishops in communion with the successor of Peter, the Bishop of Rome.
— Catechism of the Catholic Church, No. 85
Gary G. Michuta is an author, speaker and teacher on Catholic apologetics and evangelism.
Type on the field below and hit Enter/Return to search