Tag: Church History

9 min read

Scripture

What We Believe, Part 15: The Characteristics of Vatican II

Father Joshua J. Whitfield

June 6, 2023 8:09 am June 6, 2023

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9 min read

Why did Pope St. John XXIII call the Second Vatican Council? And what was the Council about? Taking stock of the state of theology and the life of the Church…

Why did Pope St. John XXIII call the Second Vatican Council? And what was the Council about? Taking stock of the state of theology and the life of the Church in the 20th century, one could suggest several reasons. At the end of the day, though, it should be remembered and taken seriously that John XXIII claimed the Holy Spirit’s inspiration for calling the Council. It is quite reasonable to suggest — and also helpful to remember — this: that Vatican II was the work of the Spirit.

Before exploring the answer to this question any further, though, we should admit that Vatican II, even today, evokes a wide range of emotions. Some, for instance, think Vatican II the worst thing to happen to the Church. With it came innovations and departures from the ancient faith so horrific, it’s claimed, that many have broken away or fallen away from the Church because of it. However, on the other end, others think Vatican II changed all the mean and nasty things about Catholicism, freeing modern Catholics to be good secular liberals unbothered by a primitive creed. Here, people talk about things like the “spirit of Vatican II” but without being able to tell you where in the documents of Vatican II it says exactly what they’re saying, because it turns out they’ve not really read the documents.

These, obviously, are two extreme reactions to Vatican II, found more and more on the margins of Catholic experience these days, yet still very much present in the Church. The truth of the matter, though, is that to understand Vatican II, one must accept it as an ecumenical council of the Catholic Church and that the teaching of Vatican II is expressed faithfully in the Council’s documents themselves. That is, the “spirit of Vatican II” is found in the documents themselves, read and interpreted within the communion of the Church. Thus, to understand Vatican II genuinely, as well as modern Catholicism, one must become familiar with the Council’s documents — reading them well. And you don’t have to be a theologian to do that; you just have to know how to read.

But still, what was the Council about? Speaking personally, as a former Anglican, I’ve always thought it to be significant that the Council was called on Jan. 25 — the feast of the Conversion of St. Paul. You see, this feast concludes the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, a week in which Christians worldwide pray for the reunification of Christian believers. It was begun as the “Christian Unity Octave” by Father Paul Wattson and the Society of the Atonement just after he and other members of the society converted to Catholicism from the Episcopal Church. This “Christian Unity Octave” by the 1920s and 1930s would be celebrated all over the Catholic world; by midcentury, Protestant bodies too would join in this endeavor of prayer. And so, that John XXIII called Vatican II at this time hints at what he hoped would be a major focus of the Council — healing the unity of Christians. Remember John 17.

But, of course, there was much more to it than that. Exploring the “why” of Vatican II, one place to begin is to read John XXIII’s opening address to the Council from October 1962. “Our duty is not only to guard this precious treasure,” he said, “but to dedicate ourselves with an earnest will and without fear to that work which our era demands of us.” His hope was that the Church would offer a fresh presentation of the Catholic faith in “perfect conformity to the authentic doctrine.” Making use of modern “methods of research” and embracing “the literary forms of modern thought,” the pope wanted the Church to speak clearly to the modern world, which he made clear necessitated a rethinking. For the “substance of the ancient doctrine of the deposit of faith is one thing, and the way in which it is presented is another.” Now what John XXIII was saying is that it’s not the Faith that’s changing, but the presentation of the Faith. He said the Church must think about the delivery of the Faith, finding ways to articulate the Faith in a reasonable, sophisticated manner that is neither fideism nor fundamentalism. John XXIII had a great deal of trust in the reasonableness of faith. The Church wasn’t meant to retreat from the world; quite the contrary. The Council’s task was to take the deposit of faith and deliver it to the world in an authentic way, without intellectual cowardice or bravado but, he said, in a “predominantly pastoral” way. That is, Vatican II wasn’t primarily about articulating theology or doctrine — as, say, in the Council of Nicaea when the fathers articulated the divinity of Christ (homoousios) — but about the pastoral articulation of the Faith.

One feature, different from other ecumenical councils, indicating this new pastoral approach is that Vatican II communicated in an entirely new idiom. It promulgated no disciplinary canons, for example, although it did inaugurate the revision of the Code of Canon Law that would come to fruition in 1983. Vatican II pronounced no anathemas as did the Council of Trent. The tone of the documents of Vatican II are completely different. They are persuasive and evocative — conversational. That is, the texts are dialogical. Gaudium et spes — the Council’s Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World — for example, reads like an invitation to the world to talk about truth, goodness and peace. It’s a profoundly hopeful and open document, not defensive or condemning.

John O’Malley’s indispensable book on the Council, “What Happened at Vatican II,” notes the common characteristics of Vatican II summed up in three concepts — aggiornamento, the development of doctrine and ressourcement. The first idea, and the one associated most readily with Vatican II is aggiornamento, which can mean “updating” or “refreshing.” It means something like what John XXIII meant when he said he wanted to “open the windows of the Church and let some fresh air in.” It’s what he talked about in his opening address — not changing the Faith at all but refreshing it, updating it.

The other characteristic of Vatican II — the development of doctrine — is an idea associated with the work of St. John Henry Newman, who is in a sense one of the intellectual fathers of Vatican II. He wasn’t present at the Council. He had been dead for 70 years by the time it began. One of the most famous modern converts to Catholicism — from the Church of England — he was a great theologian and man of letters. His book, “An Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine,” which he wrote while still in the process of converting to Catholicism, made a simple but profound observation about the Christian faith. And that is — although there is the deposit of faith, revealed truth from Scripture and the Holy Spirit — the articulation of the faith develops over time. Now this idea for many was and remains controversial. Fundamentalists, of course, hate it. Many Eastern Orthodox theologians don’t much care for it either. But Newman’s point was basically this: Christian doctrine is sharpened, better articulated, and is expressed more clearly as it needs to be over time. Take, for example, the dogma of the Trinity. We believe that God is Father, Son and Holy Spirit. However, that dogma wasn’t fully articulated until 381. Why? Because, as Newman pointed out, there wasn’t any reason to articulate it fully until a fight broke out about it. The Church articulated definitively the full divinity of Christ only when Arius started causing trouble by questioning it. And after Nicaea, people were questioning the divinity of the Holy Spirit — they were called pneumatomachians, meaning “Spirit-fighters” — forcing the Church to articulate more clearly her belief in the Holy Spirit. And so, as history progresses, doctrine is better articulated. That’s what Newman meant by “development,” and it was an idea fundamental to Vatican II.

The last concept intrinsic to council, ressourcement, came about from around the turn of the 20th century, among theologians mainly in France who started doing theology in a new way. This new way — associated with Jesuits like Henri de Lubac and Gaston Fessard and Dominicans such as Marie-Dominique Chenu and Yves Congar — came to be called nouvelle théologie. But it was a way of doing theology that really wasn’t new at all; it was just different for its time. Sarah Shortall’s book, “Soldiers of God in a Secular World,” tells the story of this important theological movement. Neo-Scholasticism dominated theology in the 19th and early 20th centuries, and that was theology done propositionally, so to speak. That is, one defined terms and logically placed one’s propositions in logical order. The theologians of this nouvelle théologie, however, were committed to ressourcement, which simply means “return to the sources.” To understand the deposit of the faith and to articulate it theologically, these theologians went back to Scripture and to the early Fathers of the Church. Essentially, their method was this: If you want to know something about the Eucharist — for instance, transubstantiation — how should you study it? Well, you begin with the sources, with the Eucharist as it’s treated in Scripture. Then you explore what the early theologians believed and taught; then study the eucharistic controversies of the 10th century, and so on. By that method, exploring the sources of the Christian faith, a person can better understand what the Church means when it uses the word “transubstantiation.” And that’s better than simply taking a word and defining it in unhistorical abstraction — like “transubstantiation is X.” You see the difference? Ressourcement is a return to the sources that better helps us understand how ideas took shape within history. And it was a new way of doing theology in the first half of the 20th century, and one which shaped not just Vatican II but the whole of modern Catholicism.

Father Joshua J. Whitfield is pastor of St. Rita Catholic Community in Dallas and author of “The Crisis of Bad Preaching” (Ave Maria Press, $17.95) and other books. Read more from the series here.

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7 min read

Church History

What is an Ecumenical Council?

Brother John M. Samaha

May 4, 2023 7:58 am May 4, 2023

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7 min read

The Second Vatican Council (1962-1965) still looms large in the awareness of most Catholics today. But how many Catholics are aware that we’re currently in the midst of the 450th…

The Second Vatican Council (1962-1965) still looms large in the awareness of most Catholics today. But how many Catholics are aware that we’re currently in the midst of the 450th anniversary of the Council of Trent (1545-1563), another Church council of great historical significance? And how many Catholics know much at all about the other 19 general councils of the Catholic Church?

Church historians remind us that tracing the developments of the general councils is an outstanding way to survey 2,000 years of Christian history. While the general councils have not treated every aspect of theology and spirituality, they have addressed the major issues of their times. For this reason scholars recognize these meetings as an essential element of the ongoing life of the Church.

What actually constitutes a general (or ecumenical) council? (The terms “universal,” “ecumenical” and “general” are ordinarily used interchangeably, though historically these terms have been used in different ways.) A general council is a meeting of worldwide Church leaders convened by the pope, although this was not always the case in early Church history. All bishops are called to participate, but other officials are also invited.

We should note here the important distinction between general councils and councils that are merely local, regional or provincial. Numerous provincial or local councils (or synods) met during the first three centuries of the Church, especially during the third century, to handle matters of doctrine and discipline. These earliest church meetings in North Africa, Rome, Gaul, Asia Minor and Iberia paved the way for the first general council, Nicaea I.

A number of local councils, some attended by popes or their delegates, also met during the Middle Ages.

Today regional synods of bishops continue to meet, sometimes in Rome, and frequently in the bishops’ home countries as national synods or conferences.

We should also note that the separated Eastern Orthodox churches consider only the first seven councils ecumenical. The Catholic Church, however, recognizes 21 councils to be ecumenical, or general, even though the East was missing from the councils of the second millennium.

Why Do Councils Meet?

When we examine the particular reasons why various councils have met over two millennia, we discover a cycle of challenge and response that brings them into session.

In a sense, councils are convoked because they are provoked, prompted by various circumstances in the life of the Church that require attention. Thus councils most often spend their time identifying and condemning heresy, instigating needed reforms, dealing with questions of church authority, and addressing other significant issues as they have emerged in various historical periods.

Since councils come into existence in response to demanding religious and social issues of the day, the Church has no regular schedule for convoking them. They are simply called as needed.

The councils, we might say, are the Church’s “think tanks” for solving problems and plotting the future. Since apostolic times, Christian leaders have used such major meetings to compare notes and solve problems. Often issues are churning for decades or even centuries before they are brought to a council for solution. The council fathers must enunciate guiding principles and procedures and then plot their implementation.

Consequently, a number of activities are necessary for holding a general council. First, the reasons for convoking the council must be identified. Second, its goals must be established. Third, the Church must engage in a period of preparation. Fourth, the assembly itself must take place. And, finally, the council’s decisions must be put into practice.

A Historical Overview

The Church council held in Jerusalem and noted in Scripture (see Acts 15 and Gal 2:1-10) is not listed with those we consider gen-eral or ecumenical. Yet this meeting of the apostles Peter and James, Paul and Barnabas and others is often noted as the first and model council. The general council of Constantinople II (553) explicitly mentioned the importance of the apostles coming together to consult and to make a decision.

The “Council of Jerusalem,” as it came to be called, probably met in A.D. 49 or 50 to address the question that arose a handful of years after Jesus’ death and resurrection: Must one be a Jew in order to be a Christian? The issue boiled down to whether men needed to be circumcised and whether all were bound by the Jewish dietary laws.

The first general council was the First Council of Nicaea, which was summoned by the Emperor Constantine in 325. Its main purpose was to deal with the Arian heresy, which erroneously taught that Jesus Christ was not fully God.

In the Church’s first millennium, the general councils met largely to formulate doctrinal statements to correct other heretical teachings. The councils of the Middle Ages and Reformation dealt primarily with reforming church divergences and clarifying certain doctrines. In the modern period the two Vatican councils were gathered for dissimilar reasons: the first to define papal infallibility, the second to renew the Church in line with contemporary developments.

Some councils completed the unfinished business of their predecessors. For example, the first eight councils, from Nicaea (325) to Constantinople IV (869-870), met in somewhat rapid succession because they were refining creedal statements. In their deliberations they hammered out the profoundly interrelated dogmas of the Church concerning the Blessed Trinity and the Person of Christ.

Several councils followed soon after another to address persisting problems. The first four Lateran councils met successively in less than a century (1123, 1139, 1179, 1215) to address questions of Church reform. In later situations councils finished the work that earlier meetings could not because of difficult circumstances.

A Wide Variety

The time between councils, their duration and their attendance reveal a wide variance. Counting 21 general councils might lead us to think that they were called about one each century. But in reality general councils have met infrequently, often in clusters. And there were long periods of time — sometimes several centuries — that experienced no councils at all.

General councils varied also in duration. Lateran II sat only a week, while Constance (1414-1418) met for three and a half years of steady activity.

But length of time is no indicator of importance or achievement. Lateran IV gathered for only 20 days, yet was the most impressive of the medieval councils. Lateran V met for five years, 1512-1517, but accomplished little.

Concerning participation, as few as a dozen members were present during a low point at Constantinople IV, and only 17 during one session of Trent in 1551-1552. In striking contrast, 2,540 packed St. Peter’s Basilica for the first session of Vatican II in 1962.

Despite difficulties in travel and communication during the ancient and medieval eras, about 600 took part in Chalcedon (451), more than 400 at Lateran IV and nearly 900 at Constance.

Even though each general council has exhibited distinctive characteristics, a common thread runs through all. Each council rose to the occasion and responded to the urgent needs of its day.

To recall the enduring value of what these solemn assemblies have accomplished for the Church throughout the ages, we need only read the words that for centuries have appeared at the beginning of each council document:

“For everlasting memory.”

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8 min read

The Church

What is heraldry in the Catholic Church?

Michael R. Heinlein

April 27, 2023 7:15 am April 27, 2023

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Ecclesiastical heraldry is both familiar and mysterious. Frequently seen in one form or another, coats of arms pervade our Catholic culture in numerous ways: on letters and newspapers, diocesan websites…

Ecclesiastical heraldry is both familiar and mysterious.

Frequently seen in one form or another, coats of arms pervade our Catholic culture in numerous ways: on letters and newspapers, diocesan websites and Twitter pages, in Roman churches and diocesan cathedrals. Most Catholics, though, are unaware of the significance of this time-honored practice.

Steeped in tradition, ecclesiastical heraldry is a regulated system of self-identification, adopted by the Church from medieval society, which operates as a science and an art form with its own rules and regulations.

A heraldic achievement, also called a coat of arms, is permitted lawfully for those who occupy ecclesiastical office — for example, popes, cardinals, archbishops, bishops, monsignors, priests, religious superiors such as abbots and abbesses — as well as ecclesiastical territories and institutions — for example, dioceses, religious orders, papal knighthoods, basilicas, cathedrals, parish churches, schools and other Catholic institutions. While heraldry runs the risk of being seen as haughty or pompous, in reality it simply seeks to graphically herald (or announce) — in color and symbol — who and what the bearer is.

Identification

The use of artistic elements to identify personages, locations and possessions first existed in pre-Christian societies. Pharaohs of ancient Egypt offer one of the earliest precursors of heraldic practices. Their various holdings of goods and properties were identified with the symbols found in the cartouche, an oval symbol containing personal hieroglyphics with a distinct line at the bottom indicating royalty. Likewise, the Book of Numbers provides evidence that standards and symbols were used by the tribes of the nomadic Israelites in early biblical times (see 1:2,18,52).

The papal coat of arms of Pope Benedict XVI (2005-2013). Shutterstock

Modern heraldry finds its origins with the Battle of Hastings in 1066 — illustrated in the famous Bayeux Tapestry — when knights concealed by battle armor were first identified with decorated shields. Later developments incorporated the shield design into body coats, banners and even coverings for horses. These coats of arms subsequently became synonymous with the knight’s family, especially following the Third Crusade (1189-92). The shape and character of ecclesiastical heraldry are closely tied to these developments since the Church adopted many of the customs and traditions of the culture.

As feudal and belligerent Europe shifted into the structures of nobility and royalty, familial arms were used much as in ancient Egypt — to identify themselves and their possessions. Similar measures of personal identification were incorporated into items such as seals (often part of rings), which were legally mandated for use on documents and letters as a means to provide authenticity and prevent forgery.

Because noble status and property was inherited by the oldest son through primogeniture, the youngest son was typically offered for service in the Church. Familial arms continued to be used by those appointed to such ecclesiastical positions of jurisdiction and authority, although they were typically modified for ecclesiastical use by removing warlike symbols. Many sources indicate that the first bishop known to do so was Guy of Vergy, bishop of Autun in the early 13th century. A personal papal coat of arms — other than just the standard tiara and keys indicative of papal office — was first used during the pontificate of Pope Martin V (1417-31). Use of heraldry by all ecclesiastical officeholders became a standardized means of self-identification beginning in the 17th century.

Heraldry’s Rules

Because a coat of arms seeks to identify its bearer, each must be unique — like a passport or Social Security number. Therefore, offices and methods for documentation and legislation for both secular and ecclesiastical heraldry were established, the most notable and enduring secular example being the College of Arms established in England by King Richard III in 1484. Initial codification of heraldry in the Church coincided with widespread practice by the 17th century through a system of ecclesiastical headgear developed by French heraldist and printer Pierre Palliot.

Although the jurisprudence of secular heraldry significantly weighs upon the Church’s heraldic tradition, it was also shaped by the development of doctrinal, liturgical and canonical factors. The Church itself began to systematically regulate her heraldry in 1905, with Pope St. Pius X’s establishment of the Heraldry Commission of the Roman Curia, an office abolished in 1960 by Pope St. John XXIII.

The papal coat of arms of Pope St. John Paul II (1978-2005). He was the last pope to adopt the triple tiara of the popes. Shutterstock

At the end of the subsequent decade, with the approval of Pope Paul VI, three specialists published Rubrica Araldica Vaticana — the compendium of rules governing ecclesiastical heraldry today. Likewise, the Vatican Secretariat of State issued Ut sive sollicite in 1969, a brief instruction on coats of arms and other honorifics for cardinals, bishops and other prelates. Current scholarly interest in the field is reinforced by the laudable and exhaustive 2014 manual of ecclesiastical heraldry published by Cardinal Andrea Cordero Lanza di Montezemolo, a leading heraldic authority and designer of Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI’s coat of arms.

An equally significant aspect of heraldry’s regulations is the centuries’ old linguistic components governing it. In effect, heraldry has its own language.

Even today, the artistic rendering of a coat of arms is accompanied by a lengthy explanation written in blazon — heraldry’s own language. Coming from a word from French for “shield,” blazon combines terms of Old English and French resulting in a language with a distinctive word order, vocabulary and grammar. Blazon describes a coat of arms with such detail that it is possible to be artistically reproduced by anyone familiar with the lexicon. Coats of arms are described in Latin from the bearer’s point of view, left and right for the viewer correspondingly are called dexter and sinister.

A coat of arms for each ecclesiastical order, office, rank or institution contains several symbolic elements. External elements to the coat of arms describe what office and jurisdiction the bearer holds, while interior elements describe the bearer.

Starting at the uppermost part, replacing the knight’s helmet or monarch’s crown on the crest of secular arms, most ecclesiastical arms are topped with a galero — a hat now only used in ceremonial depictions.

The unique and central part of any coat of arms is the shield. Most shields for cardinals and bishops are impaled — a combination of two parts often indicating occupation of an office — in which the arms of the bearer’s diocese are seen on the left and personal arms are on the right. Examples of those bearing only their personal arms are titular bishops such as auxiliaries, some cardinals and officials in the Roman Curia or cardinals not ordained as bishops. Behind a bishop’s shield is a processional cross denoting rank in the episcopate: one horizontal bar indicates a bishop or two indicates an archbishop. The cross is replaced by a crosier for those with ordinary jurisdiction who are not bishops, such as abbots or the ordinaries of the Anglican Ordinariates. Because they occupy positions of jurisdiction, male and female religious superiors are entitled to bear a coat of arms, although the only one of those which might be impaled is an abbot’s with the arms of his abbey.

The coat of arms of Cardinal Angelo Scola, Archbishop of Milan since 2012, and previously the Patriarch of Venice. Shutterstock

A quick glance at a coat of arms, then, provides important information. Looking at the coat of arms of Cardinal Angelo Scola depicted on Page 28, the following facts about him can be deduced by reading his coat of arms: The coat of arms is topped with a red galero, indicating he is a cardinal; there is a processional cross with two horizontal bars, indicating he is a metropolitan archbishop; there is an impaled shield, indicating he is the ordinary bishop of his archdiocese.

Personal aspects of a shield also incorporate elements of the bearer’s life, often depicting symbols representative of their particular devotions or patron saints, life events or genealogy. Additionally, below the shield is a motto chosen by the bearer, typically from Scripture.

Michael R. Heinlein is editor of Simply Catholic. Follow him on Twitter @HeinleinMichael.

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9 min read

Church History

The Holy Grail

Stephanie Mann

April 7, 2023 7:52 am April 7, 2023

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9 min read

If you’re aware of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table — if you’ve heard Richard Wagner’s opera Parsifal or seen movies such as “Indiana Jones and the…

If you’re aware of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table — if you’ve heard Richard Wagner’s opera Parsifal or seen movies such as “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade” — you’ve heard of the Holy Grail.

That object of quest and romance, providing supernatural nourishment and healing, has a long history in literature and legend. Tales about the Holy Grail — as a stone or gem, as the chalice Jesus used, or as the platter on which the Passover lamb was served at the Last Supper before Jesus suffered and died on Calvary — appeared in French, English, German and Italian during the 12th and 13th centuries. The stories include mysterious connections with Joseph of Arimathea, the spear of Longinus (the centurion who pierced Christ’s side on the cross) and even the conversion of England. The Grail was also sometimes described as the cup in which Joseph of Arimathea caught the blood and water that poured from Christ’s side after Longinus pierced Him as He hung dead on the cross, a mysterious sign of the Sacraments of Baptism and the Eucharist and their source in the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

In these early versions of the quest for the Holy Grail, the imagery clearly reflects Catholic belief in the real presence of Jesus Christ in the Precious Body and Blood of the Holy Eucharist. In spite of all these sacramental and doctrinal images and interpretation, the Catholic Church in the Middle Ages did not participate in or emphasize the quest for the Holy Grail. While the medieval Church is often criticized for taking advantage of miracles and shrines for pilgrimage, she did not use this seemingly perfect opportunity for donations and bequests to venerate the Holy Grail, among other relics of Jesus’ life and passion. Yet, in the same era, the Church developed even greater devotion to the holy Eucharist through the institution of the Solemnity of Corpus Christi, the Body and Blood of Christ, in 1264. Pope Urban IV asked St. Thomas Aquinas to write the Divine Office for this great feast, and he composed the great hymns and sequences we sing today on Holy Thursday and Easter Sunday and at Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. The legend of the Holy Grail coincides with this focused devotion and adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, which including the Corpus Christi processions.

Journeys of the Grail

The story of the Holy Grail begins with Joseph of Arimathea, the member of the Sanhedrin who went to Pontius Pilate for permission to remove Jesus’ body from the cross on Good Friday. Joseph and Nicodemus — who had come to Jesus secretly — prepared His body for burial in Joseph’s own new tomb. Imprisoned by the Jewish authorities for his proclamation of Jesus’ resurrection, according to the apocryphal Gospel of Nicodemus, Joseph receives the Grail from our Savior to nourish him — then miraculously escapes from his cell without disturbing the seals on the door. Leaving the Holy Land, he travels to France and then to England, bringing the Grail with him to Glastonbury in Somerset, England. As Glastonbury is also claimed by some legends to be the burial place of King Arthur and his queen, Guinevere, the legends of Avalon or Camelot and the Holy Grail become entwined.

The Holy Grail of Arthurian legends becomes the great object of a chivalric quest, as the Knights of the Round Table set out to find the chalice and the Holy Blood (the sangreal) — and fail or succeed according to their purity and holiness. Thus the great Lancelot fails because of his adulterous affair with Guinevere, while Percival, Bors or Galahad, depending on the version, succeed because of their purity, or in the case of Galahad his virginity. Literary historians have often surmised that the ideals of chivalry were inspired by medieval devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary. Arthur’s knights strove to be brave, to defend women, and to be chastely devoted to their chosen Lady. When a knight failed in this ideal, as Sir Lancelot failed, the Holy Grail became a catalyst for his repentance as he recognizes his unworthiness and does penance for his sins of adultery and disloyalty.

Although Thomas Malory’s 15th century Le Morte d’Arthur included the quest for the Holy Grail in his influential summation of the Arthurian legends, the fascination of the Grail legend faded at the end of the Middle Ages. The story of the Holy Grail was revived by Romantic and Victorian era interest in what many called the “Age of Chivalry,” with Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s “Idylls of the King” (1869) and Richard Wagner’s Bayreuth festival piece Parsifal (c. 1880), although both the Anglican Tennyson and the mystical Wagner eliminated the background of the Real Presence in their Grails. In the 20th century, “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” tells a ridiculously comic version of King Arthur’s knights and their quests, while John Boorman’s 1981 film, “Excalibur,” based on Thomas Malory’s work, included Percival’s successful quest for the Holy Grail, healing Arthur and the land because “the land and the king are one.”

Myths and Theories

Joseph of Arimathea removes Jesus from the cross. Shutterstock

This mysterious link between the legend of the Holy Grail and Britain, or England, became an argument for the English Reformation in the 16th century. Queen Elizabeth I cited Joseph of Arimathea’s presence in England long before Pope St. Gregory the Great sent St. Augustine of Canterbury to Kent as important to the tales. She informed the Catholic bishops who protested against the establishment of the Church in England at Parliament in 1559 that Joseph of Arimathea was the “first preacher of the Word of God” in England, and that the country already had bishops and priests when Rome “usurped” their authority. Elizabeth was citing the authority of the sixth-century monk Gildas, whose shrine at Glastonbury Abbey had been destroyed when King Henry VIII suppressed all the monasteries, convents and friaries in England, Wales and those parts of Ireland he ruled.

Near the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey today, the annual Glastonbury Festival celebrates music and New Age, neo-pagan spirituality during the summer solstice. Although the most reliable historical research indicates that Glastonbury Abbey was founded in the seventh century, the legends of King Arthur, Joseph of Arimathea, the Holy Grail, Avalon and even the Glastonbury Thorn, a tree that magically grew from Joseph’s staff, become a confusing tangle of mystery and secret knowledge.

Conspiracy theorists have even woven the legend of the Holy Grail into their webs of arcane and unknowable history, presenting a story that Dan Brown infamously adopted in “The Da Vinci Code.” This version claims that the Holy Grail was really the womb of Mary Magdalen, or her descendents from her marriage with Jesus, who had not really died on the cross, nor risen from the dead — and who, according to Brown and his sources, is not really the Incarnate God, the Second Person of the Trinity, who came to earth to redeem us and establish His Church.

The Real Presence

As noted in the 2006 book “The Grail Code: Quest for the Real Presence” (Loyola Press), Adolf Hitler did search for the Holy Grail just as “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade” depicts. He and Heinrich Himmler were fascinated by the promise of great and secret powers they could obtain by possessing the Grail; Hitler believed the blood of the Grail was the original, pure Aryan blood. Himmler, according to “The Grail Code,” was “nuts for Grail lore and the Arthurian legends in general” (p. 223), and he both re-created the Round Table at the SS headquarters and searched for the Holy Grail in southern France, the enclave of the medieval Cathars, Gnostic heretics who surely would not have valued the Holy Grail in connection with the Eucharist. The Cathars rejected belief in the Real Presence in the Eucharist because of their absolute dualism, believing that all matter is evil, and since each of the seven sacraments involve matter (bread and wine, water and oil, etc.), they refused baptism and all the human elements of the Catholic Church.

But all these false views of the Holy Grail cannot diminish the true mystery of the real presence of Jesus Christ in the holy Eucharist. We have found the Holy Grail; Jesus Christ gave it to the Church the night before He died and told the apostles to “do this in memory of me” (Lk 22:19). At every Mass the words of consecration make the Lord present in holy Communion, our sacramental source of nourishment and healing.

Stephanie A. Mann writes from Kansas.

Thomas Aquinas and the Grail

When he wrote the Divine Office for the Solemnity of Corpus Christi, St. Thomas Aquinas also wrote prayers to prepare for and rejoice after receiving holy Communion. As the Holy Grail healed and made whole the knight who was worthy to find and receive it, St. Thomas shows how much we need the healing grace of holy Communion: “Almighty and ever-living God, I approach the sacrament of Your only-begotten Son Our Lord Jesus Christ, I come sick to the doctor of life, unclean to the fountain of mercy, blind to the radiance of eternal light, and poor and needy to the Lord of heaven and earth. Lord, in your great generosity, heal my sickness, wash away my defilement, enlighten my blindness, enrich my poverty, and clothe my nakedness. May I receive the bread of angels, the King of kings and Lord of lords, with humble reverence, with the purity and faith, the repentance and love, and the determined purpose that will help to bring me to salvation. May I receive the sacrament of the Lord’s Body and Blood, and its reality and power. . . . Amen.”

Like knights of old we seek the Holy Grail, finding it at Mass each Sunday or weekday, praying to be prepared to receive the Lord’s Body and Blood worthily and devoutly.

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5 min read

Church History

Exploring The Doctors of the Church

Father Ray Ryland

February 20, 2023 7:58 am February 20, 2023

5 min read

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5 min read

When we hear the word “doctor,” we usually think first of a physician. But the word itself comes from the Latin docere, meaning “to teach.” It is in this literal sense…

When we hear the word “doctor,” we usually think first of a physician. But the word itself comes from the Latin docere, meaning “to teach.” It is in this literal sense that the title “Doctor of the Church” is bestowed on certain individuals whose teaching has greatly benefited the life of the Church.

The criteria for determining whether a person receives this title are a high degree of sanctity and great learning.

Investigation of a nominee’s sanctity is the responsibility of the Congregation for the Causes of Saints in Rome. The Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, also at the Vatican, makes the judgment about a nominee’s teaching. The latter congregation’s approval recognizes the contribution of the nominee’s doctrine, but does not guarantee that his or her writing contains no error.

With the approval of these two congregations, the Church proclaims a person to be a Doctor of the Church. This proclamation can be made by the pope or by an ecumenical council approved by him. In practice, all designations have been bestowed by the reigning pontiff.

The decree is made by a public proclamation of the pope. (This proclamation is not ex cathedra — that is, not an infallible declaration of the Church’s truth.) He also grants the universal Church the use of a Mass and an Office for the saint to whom the title of Doctor is given.

Some of the Doctors have been given special titles, reflecting their luminous reputations or significant themes in their thought: St. Augustine, for example, is Doctor Gratiae (Doctor of Grace); St. John of the Cross is Doctor Mysticus (Mystical Doctor); St. Cyril of Alexandria is Doctor Incarnationis (Doctor of the Incarnation).

Who Are the Doctors?

The naming of Doctors of the Church began in 1298, when Pope Boniface VIII named four eminent theologians and scholars as Doctors: St. Augustine, St. Ambrose, St. Jerome and St. Gregory the Great. In the Eastern Church, three Doctors were preeminent: St. John Chrysostom, St. Basil and St. Gregory Nazianzen.

Four women have received the title of Doctor in recent decades. Pope Paul VI bestowed the title on St. Teresa of Avila and St. Catherine of Siena in 1970. Pope John Paul II named St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus and the Holy Face a Doctor in 1997. Pope Benedict XVI so honored St. Hildegard of Bingen in 2012.

Presently, there are 36 Doctors of the Church: nine Eastern and 27 Western. Two were popes, 15 were bishops (archbishops, patriarchs, cardinals), one was a deacon, one a diocesan priest. Several were monks and a majority were members of religious congregations.

Eight religious orders are represented in the list of Doctors: Carmelites (3), Jesuits (2), Dominicans (3), Franciscans (3), and Benedictines (5) and one apiece for the Cistercians, Redemptorists and Oratorians.

Four Doctors were founders of religious orders: St. Alphonsus Liguori (Redemptorists), St. Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross (Discalced Carmelites), and St. Francis De Sales established an Oratory of St. Philip Neri and the Order of the Visitation of Holy Mary.

The national or ethnic identities of the Doctors of the Church include 11 Italians, 3 Syrians, 4 Anatolians, 4 French, 3 Spanish and 2 Germans. There is one each of the following: Armenian, North African, Dalmatian, Visigoth, Italian-English, Egyptian, Anglo-Saxon, Dutch, and Portuguese.

The Church does not act hastily in naming particular saints as Doctors of the Church. The average length of time between a saint’s death and the time of the proclamation is 815 years! It was an early saint, St. Ephraem, for whom the greatest number of years elapsed between his death and his being named a Doctor: 1,547 years. The most recent doctor of the Church — St. Gregory of Narek — was named by Pope Francis in 2015.

The shortest lapse of time was that of St. Alphonsus Liguori, proclaimed a Doctor of the Church just 84 years after his death. The next shortest interval was that of St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus: 100 years.

The longest life of all the Doctors is that of St. Alphonsus, who died at the age of 91. Yet not all the Doctors gained their wisdom over a long lifetime. The shortest life is that of St. Thérèse, who lived only 24 years. St. Catherine of Siena lived only 33 years, and St. Anthony of Padua, 36 years.

A Great Diversity

We find great diversity in the works for which the Doctors of the Church have been recognized. Some, such as St. Gregory the Great, St. Ambrose and St. Leo the Great, wrote many letters, homilies and short treatises. St. Thérèse composed only a single book — an autobiography — along with some poetry and personal correspondence.

St. Jerome was the first great biblical scholar, translating the entire Scripture into Latin and writing commentaries on biblical books. St. Augustine produced an enormous and varied corpus bearing on many aspects of theology. Like St. Robert Bellarmine, he defended the Church against onslaughts of heresy. Two from Avila, Spain were mystics: St. Teresa of Avila and St. John of Avila.

St. Ephraem and St. Gregory of Narek were celebrated hymnists. St. Bede’s history of the English people gives us our best information about England in the early Middle Ages. Systematic theologians such as St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Albertus Magnus, St. Anselm and St. Bonaventure all displayed deep wisdom in relating human knowledge to divine revelation.

Whatever their specialization, the Doctors have all served the Church as holy teachers, one of the great gifts of Christ to His people (see Eph 4:11-13). Through their labors, He has worked “to equip the holy ones for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ” (v. 12).

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12 min read

Relics

Shroud of Turin: Evidence of Jesus’ Resurrection?

Father Robert Spitzer

February 6, 2023 7:00 am February 6, 2023

12 min read

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12 min read

The Shroud of Turin is a burial shroud (a linen cloth woven in a 3-over-1 [3:1] herringbone pattern) measuring 14 feet 3 inches in length by 3 feet 7 inches…

The Shroud of Turin is a burial shroud (a linen cloth woven in a 3-over-1 [3:1] herringbone pattern) measuring 14 feet 3 inches in length by 3 feet 7 inches in width. It apparently covered a man who suffered the wounds of crucifixion in a way very similar to that recorded for Jesus of Nazareth.

The cloth has a certifiable history from 1349, when it surfaced in Lirey, France, in the hands of a French nobleman — Geoffrey de Charny. It also has a somewhat sketchy traceable history from Jerusalem to Lirey — through Edessa, Turkey and Constantinople. This history is confirmed by the pollen grains found by Max Frei, the coincidences between the Shroud and the Sudarium (facecloth) of Oviedo, and the coincidences between the Shroud’s seven unique facial features and those attributed to the Mandylion — the Holy Image of Edessa.

The Shroud has undergone considerably more scientific testing than any other relic in human history. The 1978 Shroud of Turin Research Project (STURP) investigation and subsequent investigations were remarkably thorough, and with the exception of the questionable 1988 carbon dating, all the evidence points to it being the burial cloth of Jesus, including the following:

I. Four contemporary dating tests: The vanillin dating test of Dr. Raymond Rogers, the two spectroscopic analyses (of professor Giulio Fanti, et al.), and the compressibility and breaking strength tests (of Fanti, et al.) date the Shroud to a time commensurate with the life and crucifixion of Jesus.

II. Three kinds of extrinsic dating evidence: (A) Testing of pollen samples by Dr. Max Frei who collected dust samples from the Shroud during the 1978 STURP investigation and later classified 58 pollen grains by comparing them to pollen grains in the largest botanical museums around the world. His conclusion was that the majority (45) were from the region of Israel (specifically from sedimentary layers from 2,000 years ago near the area of the Sea of Galilee), with six grains from the eastern Middle East (two grains from Edessa, Turkey, and one growing exclusively in Istanbul/Constantinople). The remaining grains came from France and Italy. Importantly, 13 of the pollen grains are unique to Israel and are found at the bottom of both the Sea of Galilee and the Dead Sea. (B) Roman coins on the eyes of the image on the Shroud, which give evidence that it’s highly probable that the image of the man on the Shroud of Turin has two Jewish lepta, minted in A.D. 29 by Pontius Pilate in Judea at the time of Jesus, on his eyelids. (C) One-hundred twenty coincidences of blood and fluid stains between the Shroud and the Sudarium of Oviedo give evidence of a date and location of the Shroud’s origin similar to that of Jesus.

III. The blood stains on the Shroud: The blood stains tell a story very similar to the highly unusual crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth — they were imprinted on the Shroud before the image was made (the opposite of what would need to be done by a forger). The Shroud has deposits of real human blood, according to the experts who studied the blood flecks gathered on the STURP tapes in 1978. They determined that the blood on the Shroud is real. Some researchers have found that male DNA and an AB blood type are also present on the cloth. Though genetic testing confirms these findings, there is no guarantee that they belong to the man on the Shroud.

IV. Formation of the image on the Shroud: The image was not formed by dyes, chemicals, vapors or scorching. The only known explanation for the formation of the image is an intense burst of vacuum ultraviolet radiation (equivalent to the output of 14,000 excimer lasers) emitted from every three-dimensional point of the body in the Shroud.

The combination of the above evidence is exceedingly difficult to explain in any way other than the burial cloth is that of Jesus of Nazareth. Moreover, the formation of the image by an intense outburst of vacuum ultraviolet radiation is suggestive of a resurrection event similar to that described in the Gospels. The above scientific evidence requires that a new carbon-dating test be done which observes the standard protocols for sampling. When these protocols are observed, it would be surprising if the result was not similar to the results of the four new dating methods mentioned above — approximately A.D. 50. If this result is obtained, it would indicate that the Shroud of Turin is very likely the burial shroud of Jesus Christ with evidence suggestive of His resurrection in light.

Evidence?

While we currently do not have a definitive explanation for how this unique and mysterious image was created from the body of a deceased man, the most plausible current hypothesis comes from a combination of two teams of researchers.

Dr. John Jackson’s team studied the Shroud and proposed the vacuum ultraviolet radiation hypothesis in 2008.

According to Jackson, an intense burst of vacuum ultraviolet radiation produced a discoloration on the uppermost surface of the Shroud’s fibrils (without scorching it), which gave rise to a perfect three-dimensional negative image of both the frontal and dorsal parts of the body wrapped in it.

Currently, we know of no natural explanation for the seemingly unique occurrence of such a burst of vacuum ultraviolet radiation from either a decomposing body or the geological/atmospheric conditions within a tomb. Though this is suggestive of a possible supernatural origin of the radiation — perhaps as a part of Jesus’ resurrection — we cannot prove this scientifically, because we cannot construct a scientific test for a supernatural cause — all we can do is eliminate every known natural cause of this seemingly unique radiation. The uniqueness and current inexplicability of this phenomenon gives us reason to believe that God has given us evidence of Jesus’ resurrection. This belief can be strengthened by further understanding of the light phenomenon that seems to be the source of the image as well as the continued elimination of natural causes for it. The most convincing seems to be the hypothesis of Jackson.

Research

The research of the 1978 STURP investigation, as well as subsequent research of Jackson, Fanti, Paolo Di Lazzaro and their teams, shows the likelihood that sometime after the blood deposits had dried on the Shroud the decomposing body in the Shroud emitted a short intense burst of vacuum ultraviolet radiation that led to a dehydration and discoloration of the frontal and dorsal parts of the Shroud, giving rise to a perfect photographic negative image. Jackson’s research also suggests that the body inside the Shroud became mechanically transparent and emitted light evenly from every three-dimensional point within it. This allowed the frontal part of the Shroud to collapse — creating an image (of both the inside and outside of the hands) as well as a double image on the frontal part of the Shroud.

Currently, the known laws of physics cannot explain how a decomposing body can emit an intense burst of vacuum ultraviolet radiation. Furthermore, they cannot explain how such a body could become mechanically transparent and emit light from every three-dimensional point within it.

So, where does that leave us? If Jackson’s explanation continues to be the only one to explain away the enigmas, and if future articulations of the laws of physics cannot explain how a decomposing body could become mechanically transparent and evenly emit vacuum ultraviolet radiation from every three-dimensional point within it, then we are left at the brink of a trans-physical or metaphysical explanation. Under these conditions, it would be both reasonable and responsible to believe that a trans-physical cause interacted with the decomposing body to transform it into an intense burst of light.

Evidently, we cannot scientifically prove a trans-physical cause, because science is restricted to the domain of physical causation. However, if the above conditions hold, we can reasonably infer the possibility and perhaps the likelihood of such a trans-physical cause. This is sufficient for reasonable and responsible belief.

Does this trans-physical explanation of the Shroud’s image point to the resurrection of Jesus? Jesus’ resurrection was not a resuscitation of a material corpse but rather a transforming event which gave rise to what St. Paul called a “spiritual body” — a body transformed in glory, spirit and power. Could this transformation of a material body into a burst of intense light signify a beginning point of the transformation of Jesus’ body from a physical one to a spiritual-glorified one? Though there can be no scientific proof of this, it is a reasonable inference from the parallels between the explanation of the Shroud’s enigmatic image and the testimony of St. Paul and the Gospel writers. In this sense, we might say that the image on the Shroud presents a clue — even a relic — of Jesus’ resurrection.

Conclusion

Why would we think the body in the Shroud was that of Jesus? As explained above, it is exceedingly improbable that the Shroud is a medieval forgery. First, there are no paints, dyes or other pigments on the Shroud (except for the small flecks coming from the sanctification of icons and paintings which touched it).

Second, the anatomical precision of the blood stains — which are real human blood that congealed on the Shroud before the formation of the image — are in precise anatomical correlation to the image itself. How could a medieval forger have accomplished this?

Third, it is exceedingly difficult to explain how pollen grains indigenous to Palestine appeared in abundance on a shroud of probable Semitic origin (if it originated in medieval Europe) and how coins minted in A.D. 29 in Palestine appeared on the eyes of the man on the Shroud. How could a medieval forger have duplicated these first-century Palestinian characteristics of the Shroud?

Fourth, the five enigmas of the image on the Shroud almost certainly preclude a forgery. How could a medieval forger have used vacuum ultraviolet radiation to discolor the cloth on the uppermost surface of the fibrils? How could he have created a perfect photographic negative image? How could he have created a double image on the frontal part of the Shroud? And how could he have known how to duplicate the interior and exterior of the hands in perfect proportion to each other? Thus it does not seem reasonable or responsible to believe that the Shroud is a medieval forgery.

Three Last Points

Beyond this, there are three probative kinds of evidence pointing specifically to Jesus’place and time of origin and to His unique crucifixion and resurrection:

The material of the Shroud, the pollen grains on it and the coins on the man’s eyes all have their origin in first-century Palestine — the place where Jesus was purported to have died.

The blood stains come from a crucifixion event identical to the one described in the four Gospels — which was very unusual, if not unique, in many respects — such as being crowned with thorns, being flogged and being pierced with a Roman pilum (spear).

The five enigmas of the Shroud’s image point to a trans-physically caused burst of vacuum ultraviolet radiation from a mechanically transparent body. This is suggestive of the transformation of Jesus’ body from a physical one to a spiritual-glorified one (as reported by St. Paul and the four Gospels).

The spiritual-glorified transformation of Jesus’ body was unique to the Christian view of resurrection. It was not known in Judaism (which held to a resuscitation of the flesh) or pagan cults (which held to ethereal or ghostlike views of immortality). Thus the enigmas on the Shroud’s image point to the uniquely Christian view of resurrection implied by Jesus’ risen appearance.

The odds of this first-century Palestinian burial shroud — with the unique features of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection — being that of anyone else is exceedingly remote. Inasmuch as the image is not a forgery, and that it originated from a real person living at the time of Jesus, crucified in the unique way of Jesus, and producing a burst of intense vacuum ultraviolet radiation from his decomposing body, who else would it be? Given all this, we might reasonably infer that the Shroud is the burial cloth of Jesus, which contains not only a relic of His crucifixion but also His resurrection in glory. If so, it shows both the truth of the most significant event in human history as well as the accuracy of the Gospel accounts of it.

Father Robert J. Spitzer, Ph.D., is a Jesuit priest currently serving as president of the Magis Center in Garden Grove, California. A prolific author, he also appears weekly on EWTN’s “Father Spitzer’s Universe.”

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