May 21, 2019

May 21, 2019 By

CanonLawJunkie: Raymond Cardinal Burke /Wikimedia Commons

Cardinal Burke, once again promoting an alt-right ideology which counters the Christian faith, called for limiting Muslim immigrants into the United States, saying such would be patriotic. Without a sense of irony, he gave this statement at a so-called “Pro-Life” March in Rome on May 17, 2019, demonstrating that his position is hostile to the dignity of all humanity, thinking that preference can and should be given to some over others according to one’s religion (or lack thereof). Such a denunciation of religious liberty denies both Catholic teaching, and the historical position of the Founding Fathers of the United States as well.

Catholic teaching is simple: religious liberty should be given to all. No one should be discriminated against because of their religion. This was made abundantly clear in Nosta Aetate:

 We cannot truly call on God, the Father of all, if we refuse to treat in a brotherly way any man, created as he is in the image of God. Man’s relation to God the Father and his relation to men his brothers are so linked together that Scripture says: “He who does not love does not know God” (1 John 4:8).

No foundation therefore remains for any theory or practice that leads to discrimination between man and man or people and people, so far as their human dignity and the rights flowing from it are concerned.

The Church reproves, as foreign to the mind of Christ, any discrimination against men or harassment of them because of their race, color, condition of life, or religion. On the contrary, following in the footsteps of the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, this sacred synod ardently implores the Christian faithful to “maintain good fellowship among the nations” (1 Peter 2:12), and, if possible, to live for their part in peace with all men, so that they may truly be sons of the Father who is in heaven.[1]

What Cardinal Burke promotes is contrary to Catholic teaching; indeed, it has already been reproved by the church. Discriminating against immigrants on the basis of their religion is a refusal to act out of love for the other, for those who are in need. It is a rejection of the duty we have to the other because we share one commo humanity with them, one large human family with them, all because of our disagreements with their beliefs. Likewise, to reduce Muslims to extremists, as justification for this ideological move against the church’s teaching, is itself contrary to Nostra Aetate, which told Christians we must work together with Muslims, overcoming the hostilities which such propaganda has created in the past.[2] Indeed, if one reads the official declarations of the church, this description of Islam has been utterly rejected by the church, because the church knows that you do not judge a religion based upon the worst representations of that religion (otherwise the church would be judged for the evil its people commits, often by people who have tried to use religion to justify their actions).

The dignity of the human person is fundamental to the Catholic faith, and likewise, to any sound political system. When it is denied, justice is denied. Religious liberty follows from this, as Dignitatis humanae declared:

Since the common welfare of society consists in the entirety of those conditions of social life under which men enjoy the possibility of achieving their own perfection in a certain fullness of measure and also with some relative ease, it chiefly consists in the protection of the rights, and in the performance of the duties, of the human person.(4) Therefore the care of the right to religious freedom devolves upon the whole citizenry, upon social groups, upon government, and upon the Church and other religious communities, in virtue of the duty of all toward the common welfare, and in the manner proper to each.[3]

The United States, though imperfectly representing the ideals expressed in its founding documents and their authors, has had a long history of immigration, opening itself to others. The welcome placed upon the Statue of Liberty, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,” represents the highest ideals of the American system. To be patriotic is to affirm this, not only because it represents a part of the American legacy, but because it follows through with what justice demands of any society. To be patriotic is to affirm the good within one’s own society, and to promote it: not to reject it.  When Cardinal Burke calls it patriotic to reject those in need, all due to a particular religion they hold, he follows after the worst aspect of the American experience, in which each new immigrant group found itself ostracized and unjustly maligned, until a new group came in to receive a similar form of xenophobia and hate.  Catholics experienced that hate, with the same kind of bitter rhetoric in the past, which is now being used against Muslims today. Burke, far from being patriotic by affirming what is good and just in American history and tradition, rejects it, and so is the one who represents an unpatriotic position as he seeks to undermine the best of the American tradition for the sake of an inhumane (and so anti-life) ideology.  Alt-right nationalism which confuses patriotism for nationalism denies true patriotism, for it only supports and promotes a select group within America, rejecting and denigrating everyone else, while patriotism works to build up the common good.

Cardinal Burke is out of order, both as a Catholic, and as an American. He denounces and denies the teachings given by both the Catholic Church in his rejection of religious liberty, and in doing so, he also denies the common good which has been promoted by the best instincts of the American system. He is no patriot. He is an ideologue willing to undermine the dignity of life itself. Over fifty years ago, Vincent Price, a true patriot,  spoke up at the end of an episode of The Saint on NBC radio with words must never go out of fashion:

Ladies and gentlemen, poison doesn’t always come in bottles. And it isn’t always marked with the skull and crossbones of danger. Poison can take the form of words and phrases and acts: the venom of racial and religious hatred. Here in the United States, perhaps more than ever before, we must learn to recognize the poison of prejudice and to discover the antidote to its dangerous effects. Evidences of racial and religious hatred in our country place a potent weapon in the hands of our enemies, providing them with the ammunition of criticism. Moreover, group hatred menaces the entire fabric of democratic life. As for the antidote: you can fight prejudice, first by recognizing it for what it is, and second by actively accepting or rejecting people on their individual worth, and by speaking up against prejudice and for understanding. Remember, freedom and prejudice can’t exist side by side. If you choose freedom, fight prejudice.[4]

Vincent Price offered words which are one with Catholic teaching, and the best of America’s ideals. These words, instead those spoken by Burke, are what we need today. Let us be true Christians and patriots and reject religious discrimination wherever it is found.

[1] Nostra Aetate, Vatican Translation.¶5.

[2] Nostra Aetate, Vatican Translation.¶3.

[3] Dignitatis humanae. Vatican translation. ¶6.

[4] Quoted from Dangerous Minds “Vincent Price Has Some Thoughts on Racial Prejudice and Religious Hatred,” (03-20-2015).

 

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November 27, 2018

November 27, 2018 By

“I don’t tell my children about Santa Clause. I don’t want to lie to them.”

This is what many tell me when they explain why they do not tell their children about Santa Claus. It saddens me to see  so many seek to remove the great modern myth from our heritage; while they might do so with the best of intentions, they remove a part of the joy which children around the world experience during the Christmas season.

While some truly think telling their children the story of Santa would be the same as lying to them, others are lying to themselves and others as they use this excuse to justify their own selfishness, as they feel they would not have to buy as many presents for their children. They are Scrooges who know nothing of the spirit of Christmas and they threaten to make their children just like them.

The truth of the matter is that it is not a lie to tell the story of Santa Claus, nor are parents lying to their children when they give gifts to their children in the guise of Santa.  While there are many variations of the story, Santa Claus is a myth, and like all myths, it is false to call it a lie: myths are not lies, as J.R.R. Tolkien once told C.S. Lewis; rather they present a different, often poetic, engagement with the world at large.[1] Lewis, then, would come to agree: myths are not lies; they are not fictions, for they give a representation of reality in a form which differs from the way modern positivistic philosophy tries to confine it. It is not mere abstraction as found in mathematics, but rather, is the invasion of a truth which transcends such thought which looks especially for particular examples or facts:

To explain this we must look a little closer at myth in general, and at this myth in particular. Human intellect is incurably abstract. Pure mathematics is the type of successful thought. Yet the only realities we experience are concrete – this pain, this pleasure, this dog, this man. While we are loving the man, bearing the pain, enjoying the pleasure, we are not intellectually apprehending Pleasure, Pain or Personality. When we begin to do so, on the other hand, the concrete realities sink to the level of mere instances or examples: we are no longer dealing with them, but with that which they exemplify.[2]

When we go to the level of myth, of storytelling, we go beyond mere abstractions, beyond mere thought and encounter reality which then is translated and expressed in a variety of ways; a variety of facts, when combined, could not grasp the myth but only reveal various notions which we can receive from it:

When we translate we get abstraction ‐ or rather, dozens of abstractions. What flows into you from the myth is not truth but reality (truth is always about something, but reality is that about which truth is), and, therefore, every myth becomes the father of innumerable truths on the abstract level. Myth is the mountain whence all the different streams arise which become truths down here in the valley; in hac valle abstractionis. Or, if you prefer, myth is the isthmus which connects the peninsular world of thought with that vast continent we really belong to. It is not, like truth, abstract; nor is it, like direct experience, bound to the particular.[3]

Santa Claus is one of the great modern myths; the fact that it has come from and developed from many other myths and historical sources (Saint Nicholas, Odin, et. al.) does it no harm.  The story, the myth, is one which tells us much about the nature of reality, of the transcendence of charity, and the relationship of grace with nature by showing how we are to cooperate with grace in order to receive its bounty. Those who do good will be rewarded in a way beyond their goodness; those who stray and do evil cut themselves from grace and face the consequences of their straying (such as having bad children find coal in their stockings). It is not, as some would think, a capitalistic myth (though capitalists can and do use it), because it is about giving to the poor and needy, and bringing cheer to all despite their wealth. The goods which are given are not bought but are given out; those who labor share the results of their labor with all, and do not hold on to it themselves, hoarding the goods which they have created as capital.

The story, the myth, is not a lie; it is not to be seen as history or some positivistic abstraction of what is thought to be true, but rather, it presents to us reality coming to us, revealing to us itself in a way which we form such notions of truth, allowing us to realize the greatness of the truth itself. We are able to be emotionally challenged and moved by the way myths are told, having us interact with the myth in a way that dull presentations of the facts are unable to do.  Telling the story of Santa is sharing in the grand story, and only when we try to interpret it in a way which goes against the truth does such an allegorical use of the story turn out to be false: but bad allegory does not make the story false, only it makes those trying to abstract meaning from it in error.

Likewise, participating in that story is telling it, and because myths are not lies, telling them and acting them out cannot be seen to be lies. The story is presented in a way which requires more than words. When parents leave gifts out late at night when their children are asleep, they are continuing with the story. When they tell their children in the morning that the gifts were given by Santa, they are not lying;  they are only continuing with the storytelling. Likewise, when children see the presents, hey know they have not being lied to: someone came and gave them gifts, and that someone is named Santa. It is the name and convention used to explain the whole phenomenon, a phenomenon which truly happens while the children are asleep. The parents who give such gifts are participating in the reality of the Santa myth, becoming a part of it, acting it out, so that the story is properly told and the reality of story is realized by the children who hear it told.  By acting out the part of Santa, they are partaking of the reality expressed and revealed in the myth, sharing with it, becoming one with it. How can they be said to be lying when the story is not a falsehood, and there are truly gifts which are given, expressed by the convention of Santa? They are not. The children received the gifts. They saw the reality become expressed in particular facts, even as the greatest myth is realized and made concrete as the central fact of history (the story of God becoming man realized in the birth of the God-man Jesus Christ).  They experience the story, the myth, indeed, the reality presented by the myth: they might not know the role their parents play in the realization of the myth, but the children see the reality of the myth, as they experience the phenomena of Santa in their lives and wake up on Christmas morning seeing the gifts which have been left behind.

“But it is a lie. Parents are not Santa.” Really? They certainly are Santa. That’s the point. The phenomenon happens – the gifts are left behind. The phenomenon is known as Santa. Those who give the gifts, those who take on the role of Santa, truly become Santa, partaking of the reality of the myth and so they truly are Santa, even as anyone who holds a particular job can be called by the title of that job, or someone wearing a mask can be called by the name of the figure in the mask. They are Santa, and they did not lie: Santa did come, and he gave gifts. The phenomenon has the conventional name of Santa; the underlying reality of that phenomenon is that it is parents who give such gifts, and the truth then is that the parents, who are Santa, gave gifts, so there is no lie. The only lie is from those who deny Santa: for how can someone explain the gifts which are given, which children can and do see with their own eye?

The phenomenon children experience on Christmas is given the conventional name of Santa. That phenomenon happens; it is true. The underlying nature of how Santa is realized is that parents partake of the role of Santa, and so make the phenomenon real. They did not lie. Likewise, it is true, they are not purely Santa: they are their children’s parents: Santa is, as with all such abstractions, capable of being true because of it is empty of any inherent nature, allowing therefore, as many forms of the phenomenon to appear as there are people giving gifts in the role of Santa.

Santa is real. Let’s stop telling the lie that there is no Santa. Let the children rejoice and let all good parents be satisfied in the good which they do for their children. Scrooge needs to be put to rest, so that in the night, he can experience that joy and come around wishing everyone Merry Christmas, never again saying “Humbug” to the reality of Santa.

 

[IMG=Cover of “Goody Santa Claus” dated 1889. by RL [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons]

[1] Tolkien wrote his poem, Mythopoeia, for Lewis when Lewis was still an unbeliever; in it, Tolkien explained:

“The heart of man is not compound of lies,

but draws some wisdom from the only Wise.”

Myths present the world in a manner and style different from science or mathematics, but this does not make them any less true, any less informative for those who know how to engage them. They are not lies. They are a means by which we engage the greater reality, a reality which transcends the categories which we use to explain it.

[2] C.S. Lewis, “Myth Became Fact” in Undeceptions. Ed. Walter Hooper (London: Geoffrey Bles, 1971), 41.

[3] Ibd., 42.

 

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October 16, 2018

October 16, 2018 By

“The last enemy to be destroyed is death” (1 Cor. 15:26 RSV). Death is said to be the final enemy because of what death represents: the annihilation of being, the decomposition and destruction of that which is.

The kingdom of death is the kingdom of corruption and decay, the kingdom of the half-life, quarter-life, and no-life. It seeks to bring everything which exists into the underwhelming emptiness of the void, the nihilistic annihilation of all things.

That which is tainted with death, that which has the emptiness of the void of being touching their inner core, finds the kingdom of death seeking them out, wanting to make them one with it in its rejection of all being.

The principle behind death, therefore, is not the mere absence of life, but the corruption and destruction of being itself. Physical death manifests this destruction of being as that which held life finds life cut off form it. True death of a living person is spiritual death; they suffer more than the loss of their life, but the wholeness of their very being. Their inner spiritual core has been taken away from them. They no longer have a proper center of being, as that center is turned into a void which acts like a black hole in their life, sucking everything good the person has within it, as the void seeks to overcome being by destroying everything which it touches. This is why spiritual death, more than physical death, must be understood as the evil which we face; indeed, physical death sometimes can serve as a stopping point for the spiritual death, allowing physical death serve as a good which counters the spiritual corruption of being, using the power of death against itself, foreshadowing the final overcoming of death by death in the passion and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Horror stories, whether in print or in film, often serve to demonstrate the kingdom of death and all its power. In them, we see various representatives of the kingdom of the dead, various forms of death, coming out from the kingdom of the grave, seeking out the living, seeking either to outright destroy the living, snuffing out the Spirit of Life from the world, or else, to place its insidious corruption into the living to make them one with the kingdom of the dead. Mummies, zombies, ghouls, ghosts, and vampires all demonstrate, in their own way, a different path of the contagion of death; they are figures of horror because they are the servants and knights and principalities of the grave coming to the world to make the empire of the dead that much larger. Zombies and ghouls have less of a semblance of life, while ghosts and vampires represent those who hold some remaining sparks of life, some remaining sparks of personality, despite being among the dead and no longer truly alive. To be a vampire is to be among the living dead, to be lifeless and yet without rest, to be tortured by the living, to seek out the living and take the energy of the living so as to imitate and feel, for a few brief moments, the last remnants of life flowing through the veins: life is sacrificed in others for the simulacrum of life in the vampire.

Truly, this is also what makes reanimating the dead to also be a thing of horror: such reanimation, whether or not it brings the dead back to life, or only brings it to the semblance of life, continues to have the touch of death always upon the body of the one who has been “brought back to life.” The figure is not entirely alive; the taint of death remains and true spiritual life, the truly transformed life given in the resurrection of the dead, remains outside the grasp of such a mortal shell. This exactly was the criticism given to Fedorov by Orthodox theologians: they recognized the good Christian desires behind his notion of establishing a “resurrection science,” of bringing back the dead ancestors as a “common task” of the living, but they also saw all that what was lost in such a science would be the deifying grace which transformed the resurrected person so that no longer was any taint of death within them. Fedorov’s principle desire and end was Christian; the morality certainly was Christian, but it was also Pelagian, and so even if some sort of reanimation of the dead is possible, it would only establish a prolonging of mortality and not the true eternal life which transcends death that Christ brings to the world.[1] “By death he trampled death and to those in the graves he granted life eternal.”  Jesus, in his passion, brings about the true conquest of death, destroys the final enemy, indeed, removes the horror of death itself by the way he reconfigured creation.

Death is the final enemy. The kingdom of death continues to be all around us. The kingdom of death has power in us and against us so long as we allow its taint, the taint of sin, to abide in us. It beckons to us. We instantly recognize the horror of it when we see it touching us. We create myths and stories representing the various levels of spiritual and physical decay, various kinds of deconstruction undergoing being itself, to help us understand the various ways death comes before us and seeks to destroy us. Death desires to come into the world and use its power to destroy life itself. But the power of life is greater; the giver of life could, and indeed did, use death to be its own undoing. Death met with death and found itself deconstructed: when death is overcome by death, all there is left is life, the life of the resurrection, the joy of being itself.

The horror of death is no longer the end of the story. It is now only the beginning of the greater story which leads to eternal life.

[IMG Zombies in a City [CC0 Creative Commons] via pixabay]

[1] J.R.R. Tolkien, understanding this principle, saw the horror of temporal immortality, which he represented with the dread condition of the ring-wraiths.

 

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July 26, 2018

July 26, 2018 By

Tolkien in the opening section of The Silmarillion, the Ainulindalë, presents an explanation for evil which arose from his aesthetic understanding of creation. He shows the superiority of the good over evil by the way good can take evil, harmonize with it, and make a greater good as a result; that is, good is able to grow strong, more beautiful, as it struggles with evil and overcome it, while evil is unable to indefinitely oppose the good. As discord can be harmonized with and produce something greater, some thing more beautiful, so the discord which evil brings about can be overcome in order to produce some greater, more beautiful good. There is a symphonic structure to creation; history reveals the symphony in progress, with evil seen in the dark notes of distress. And yet, when contemplated as a whole, history, like a great symphony, is to be understood only after it is over, and there we find it ends not with sorrow and despair, but with hope. Even that which is used to resist God comes from some good given by God. That is, what produces evil nonetheless has some element of good remaining within it, an element which comes from God and which God can draw upon and use to bring about his desired end. For this reason, Melkor, the Satanic figure in Tolkien’s myth, was told how his resistance itself only works for Ilúvatar ‘s greater purpose (with Ilúvatar being one of the names for God in Tolkien’s myth):

Then Ilúvatar spoke, and he said: ‘Mighty are the Ainur, and mightiest among them is Melkor;  but that he may know, and all the Ainur, that I am Ilúvatar, those things that ye have sung, I will show  them  forth, that ye may see what  ye have done. And thou, Melkor, shalt see that no theme may be played that hath not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite. For he that attempteth this shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which he himself hath not imagined.’[1]

This aesthetic understanding, beautiful within the context of Tolkien’s myth, represents the way the Christian tradition has understood how God deals with evil. There is nothing which is fundamentally evil in itself. Evil is a corruption of the good, a parasite which thrives upon the good, and people are attracted to evil not because it is evil but for the limited good which they sense from it. Likewise, that good remains open to union with the rest of the good, to harmonize with the rest of the good, so that it can establish a new good, a greater good than what existed before. This is not because evil is vindicated and is accepted, but because the good is able to draw upon the good found in evil, to take what is in it, to take what is given to it new, and to grow and thrive, in the way contrasts in music establish a greater, more aesthetically pleasing composition. This is not to say evil is good and should be accepted; rather this is to say that evil does not have the final say and the good which it uses to establish itself can become its own undoing.

Marsilio Ficino, following Plotinus and Proclus and other Platonists, not only understood the relationship between discord (or disharmony) with evil, but also the way evil had at its core its own undoing:

Rather, evil is in a certain disharmony of those things among themselves which people call “asymmetry”: that is, incommensurability. In so far as it relates to bodies, evil is not in form, for the latter wishes to dominate matter. Again, evil is not in matter, since the latter seeks to be adorned. It is rather in a certain unsuitability to form on matter’s part. From this, Proclus concludes that every evil is a quasi-existent and that whatever exists in this residual sense, coming suddenly and stealing into the creative work of the Good, is tinged with divinity. Given that the realm of generation exists, this evil also necessarily exists beneath it contributing to the perfection of the world but, with divine providence overcoming all things and wishing good things, is wonderfully made conformable to the Good. [2]

Evil, in its disharmony, tries to break apart and destroy what exists. Nonetheless, its own tools come not from itself but from what already exists, that is, from what is good. Not only did God establish creation, there is a sense in which all that exists participates in God’s super-essential existence, so that all things can be said to be “tinged with divinity.”

In this fashion there is a mysterious providence over history which will be revealed in the eschaton by the way God reconstitutes creation, bringing it all together as one in the revelation of the kingdom of God. There is tragedy and sorrow involved in history and in the establishment of the kingdom of God because of free will and contingency, and yet God knew that from such sorrow there could emerge something greater, something more blessed, something more thriving and alive than if he created a universe without free will. What good is there in the establishment of automatons? Perhaps, a little, but it is an inferior good which God does not seek. God wants a greater good, a good which manifests itself in love. And if it is in love, then it must follow the way of love: love does not force itself upon the beloved; it does not coerce, it frees and lifts up the beloved. Creation is established to participate in divine love, to be filled with life; it is given freedom and finds its best, truest freedom when it is in the kingdom of God. As Sergius Bulgakov explains, the kingdom of God is not inert, is not some lifeless dead-end, but it is the true realization of life and creative activity:

The kingdom of Christ becomes the kingdom of all-conquering universal goodness, which grows toward eternal life not only by personal effort but also in the union and sobornost of the universal Church. Thus, for creation, eternity does not signify the abolition of temporality with its becoming. Eternity is not an inert immobility but an inexhaustible source of creative life.[3]

The kingdom of God reveals the restoration of all things. The good unites and reveals its glory to us so that we find it attractive through its beauty. Evil distorts this; it attracts us, to be sure, through a distortion of the good. The more we fail to follow the good, the more we sin, the more the distortion overtakes our awareness. “Evil is nothing but spiritual distortion, and sin is all that leads to such distortion.”[4] As the good draws us in, as it brings is to a new, greater harmony, even the wounds which we experienced as a result of such distortion can be healed. That is to say, we not only have something greater as a result of human freedom, but even the burdens and sorrows caused by evil can be healed, so that no place, not even the fires of hell, can overcome the good, as Sergius Bulgakov also recognizes:

And since redemption is accomplished not only by the sacrifice of the Son sent by the Father, but also by the Holy Spirit, healing the sores of creation, the Holy Spirit continues its work of healing and restoration as long as that which is unhealed and unrestored remains. And the Holy Spirit can penetrate even the doors of hell.[5]

Medieval representations of the kingdom of God as a choir, with angels and saints signing together, do not have to be taken literally. Rather, they serve to represent, through an aesthetic analogy, the glory which is to be had in heaven. Music has the power to uplift those who hear it. St. Hildegard, understanding this by her own work with music, was able to represent the eschaton as a harmonious, beautiful choir. As the sound which is made transcends the singers as it fills a room with music, so God’s power and glory can be understood to be everywhere present and filling all things;  those harmonizing themselves with God will find themselves filled with vitality, aroused beyond all forms of sloth:  “And as the power of God is everywhere and encompasses all things, and no obstacle can stand against it, so too the human intellect has great power to resound in living voices, and arouse sluggish souls to vigilance by the song.”[6] And this is done through the work of the Good Shepherd, who like a conductor, is able to harmonize diverse elements and bring them together in a beautiful whole:

And you hear another song, like the voice of a multitude breaking out in melodic laments over the people that have been brought back to that place. For the song does not only harmonize and exult over those who persevere in the path of rectitude, but also exults in the concord of those who are resurrected from their fall out of the path of justice, and are at last uplifted to true beatitude. For the Good Shepherd has brought back to the fold with joy the sheep that was lost.[7]

And so, as Ficino discusses in his works, whatever comes about in history, whatever evil which is done, leaves behind a good which can be taken in by God for the completion of his plan for creation; that everything which is done in contingency still has a place in the eschatological order of the universe: “Meanwhile, whatever is born or arises as harmful or evil with respect to certain things is not permitted to come about otherwise than as being useful and as a good toward many other things and as otherwise than as fitly completing the order of the universe.”[8] The glory of the kingdom of God is the beautiful glory of the good in which the good reveals itself superior to all resistance to itself. The good conquers evil from within evil itself, showing that at the heart of all such evil, there remains some good which can once again be integrated into the whole

“The righteous who have comprehended the world in its truth and beauty will not gaze on hell at all, for it does not exist in the eyes of God either.”[9]  In the eschatological vision of the blessed, they will see this good in all things; no longer will hell itself be a threat for them because they will see that hell itself has been overturned by God. It does not truly exist; its nature is that of evil, and evil does not exist. Only good exists, in various forms and gradations. The effects of evil will be remembered; the distortion of the will by which we sinned will be remembered, but in that memory, we can find healing grace to lift is up beyond the damage which we have done. And then, hopefully, we will see God’s providence is at work, harmonizing us with God’s eschatological goal so that all that remains before us is the beautiful kingdom of God.

[IMG= Vision of the Angelic Hierarchy by unknown [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons]

[1] J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1977), 17.

[2] Marsilio Ficino, Commentary On Plotinus: Volume 4. Ennead III, Part I. trans. Stephen Gersh (Cambride: Harvard University Press, 2017), 143.

[3] Sergius Bugakov, Bride of the Lamb. Trans. Boris Jakim (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans’ Publishing Company, 2002), 481.

[4] Pavel Florensky, The Pillar and Ground of the Truth. Trans. Boris Jakim (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1997), 192.

[5] Sergius Bugakov, Bride of the Lamb,515.

[6] St. Hildegard of Bingen. Scivias. Trans. Mother Columba Hart and Jane Bishop (New York: Paulist Press, 1990), 533.

[7] St. Hildegard of Bingen. Scivias, 533.

[8] Marsilio Ficino, Commentary On Plotinus: Volume 4. Ennead III, Part I, 133.

[9] Sergius Bugakov, Unfading Light. Trans. Thomas Allan Smith (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans’ Publishing Company, 2012), 431.

 

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December 14, 2017

December 14, 2017 By

Bernardino_Parenzano_-_Temptations_of_St_Anthony_-_WGA17016One of the normative phases of spiritual development is found when a spiritual pilgrim goes off alone to fight against all the temptations which beset them. These temptations can come from within, with all the inordinate desires, passions and habits they have developed throughout their lives, but also, it can come from some external influence, which suggest the wrong course of action which will get them off the proper spiritual path. They go to get to know themselves better, to know their failings as well as their particular strengths and gifts which they possess. Going alone means they will have to figure it out alone, but it also means they will not have some outside source confusing them, causing them to misunderstand their place in the world. For, while it is true we become better with the help of good friends, it is also true, even the best of friends, can inadvertently influence us in a direction which might be suited for them but not us, causing us to stray from the course of life which is best for us. Going out and discerning oneself alone is not meant to serve as an individualistic ego-boost, but rather, it is a stage which we all need in order to clear ourselves and our thoughts and re-center ourselves once we have silenced all internal and external thoughts which cloud our mind.

Many, who are called for a longer embrace of solitude and silence, often into places of grave danger, where they test themselves even more due to the environment which they put themselves in. Thus, as St. John of Avila explained, some desert monks and nuns were known to go out into the place of the dead, into the tombs, facing what came upon them:

The ancient fathers of the desert knew how necessary it was to have a courageous heart so as not to be overcome in these battles with the demons that were very common among them. Therefore, they used to go alone to pray at the tombs of the dead in order to obtain freedom from the fear whose dominion is very harmful. [1]

It was never easy; indeed, it often did not go well. Many were known to be physically assaulted and wounded, barely surviving the conflict as they were saved by some of their friends. Sometimes, after the conflict was over, some spiritual consolation or aid would be given, comforting the would-be ascetic, as St. John of Avila recounted of St. Anthony:

Remember Saint Antony when he was severely beaten and kicked by demons. Raising his eyes above, he saw that the roof of his cell was opened and that a ray of light so wonderful entered through there that with its presence, all the demons fled, and the pain of his wounds was taken away. With profound sighs, he said to the Lord, “Where were you, good Jesus? Where were you when I was so mistreated by your enemies? Why were you not here at the beginning of the fight so that you might prevent or heal all my wounds?” The Lord answered him, saying,: “Antony, I had been here since the beginning, but I was watching how you were behaving in the fight. Because you have struggled manfully, I will always help you, and I will make you famous in the whole world.” By these words and by the strength of the Lord, Antony arose so encouraged that he learned by experience that he had recovered more strength than he had previously lost.[2]

Thus, as we progress along the spiritual journey, it is likely we will be tested, perhaps several times in our lives; each time we will discern our growth but also where we still need help due to our personal weakness. These tests, while keeping us humble, also help preserve a sense of our own potential, so not to lose hope. We learn not only our own strengths and weaknesses, we also learn how in accepting them for what they are, we are more willing to accept the help of others, knowing that they can bring to us what we need. This, of course, also means we will overcome Pelagian self-reliance as we see how we are able to do what we do with the special aid of God. We do not have to do all things ourselves. We should not assume we can, because that will only make us fail; we need others to work with us; when we truly discern ourselves, we will be able to see this as well as see how we can help others, and do so, knowing that we will often become the means by which God offers aid to others in this world.

While most of us might not follow the desert fathers, making our life one of extreme ascetic pursuit, we will still find ourselves undergoing retreats, coming to know ourselves better through our own limited struggle against temptation. We will resist, we will find ourselves, weak, and often we will stumble and fall into sin. Time and time again, we will fall down, only to get back up with the help of God’s grace. Time and time again, we find ourselves resolved once again to combat our worst desires, and then something gives in and we fall once again. We might find ourselves giving in to anger and fight with someone in a way which we know is wrong, but fueled by anger, we let our uncharity rule; we might give in to food or drink too much, finding gluttony a problem; we might find ourselves giving in to envy or avarice, acting unmindlessly to achieve our desire only to regret what we have done once we stop and ponder what we have done.

We must not give up, we must not despair: God’s mercy is there, he loves us like a loving mother; God will not abandon us, but will take us back in, nurse us from our sounds, and help us make sure we can get back on our feet and on our way in the world. We must not fret when we trip and fall; pride will make us despair while humility will allow us to get back up, look to God for what we need, accepting the means by which he shares his grace without questioning ourselves as to whether or not we are worthy of his mercy. Even when the fall is great, we must not despair. As long as we struggle against our worst inclinations, we can still be lifted back up and indeed see our work has not been in vain. For, despite our failure, what we have done before tripping up can be of substantial worth, helping not only ourselves but others, and it will not be lost just because our endurance against temptation came to an end. This lesson is one which J.R.R. Tolkien demonstrated well in The Lord of the Rings through the trials and tribulations of Frodo.

Frodo with his constant struggles against the ring reflects the spiritual conflict we all face; we know what is right, but we also take and grasp after, and often use, that which is wrong to use, often finding that the circumstances justify it as Frodo did in the times he used Sauron’s ring.  Yet, it is not just in and with the ring we find the spiritual conflict paralleled in the exploits of Frodo; early within his journey, after he and his friends left the Shire, they found themselves in the land between the Shire and Bree, a dangerous wilderness in which they found themselves aided by the mysterious Tom Bombadil.  Frodo and his companions would even find themselves facing he power of darkness and death in the barrow downs. Like Anthony in the tombs, the Hobbits were attacked and held down by a great evil force; Frodo, before he knew it, was trapped and about to be the victim of a Barrow-wight:

When he came to himself again, for a moment he could recall nothing except a sense of dread. Then suddenly he knew that he was imprisoned, caught hopelessly; he was in a barrow. A Barrow-wight had taken him, and he was probably already under the dreadful spells of the Barrow-wights about which whispered tales spoke. He dared not move, but lay as he found himself: flat on his back upon a cold stone with his hands on his breast.[3]

Like Anthony beaten up in the tombs, Frodo and his companions had to be rescued. At first, he could hear someone coming in and through a song:

Suddenly a song began: a cold murmur, rising and falling. The voice seemed far away and immeasurably dreary, sometimes high in the air and thin, sometimes like a low moan from the ground. Out of the formless stream of sad but horrible sounds, strings of words would now and again shape themselves: grim, hard, cold words, heartless and miserable. The night was railing against the morning of which it was bereaved, and the cold was cursing the warmth for which it hungered. Frodo was chilled to the marrow. After a while the song became clearer, and with dread in his heart he perceived that it had changed into an incantation:

Cold be hand and heart and bone,
and cold be sleep under stone:
never mare to wake on stony bed,
never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead.
In the black wind the stars shall die,
and still on gold here let them lie,
till the dark lord lifts his hand
over dead sea and withered land.[4]

But then, there was great power, a great light, which came upon Frodo and Tom Bombadil showed up to save the trapped hobbits:

There was a loud rumbling sound, as of stones rolling and falling, and suddenly light streamed in, real light, the plain light of day. A low door- like opening appeared at the end of the chamber beyond Frodo’s feet; and there was Tom’s head (hat, feather, and all) framed against the light of the sun rising red behind him. The light fell upon the floor, and upon the faces of the three hobbits lying beside Frodo.[5]

Tom, in this instance, was filled with a holiness and power which transcended the darkness which had trapped Frodo and his companions. Though it was said that Anthony had the direct intervention of God in his life, he did also have companions and friends see him and help him when he was hurt or needing something which he could not provide for himself. We need each other even as we need to recognize the aid we can give to each other, for without it, we will find our weakness overcoming us and destroying us from within. Tom was able to rescue Frodo when Frodo was still welcoming the help and aid of others. Yet, through the conflict he was put into, he slowly gave way, cutting himself from his friends, and though he was able to reach his destination, he also gave in to temptation and took possession of the ring instead of willingly destroying it:

‘I have come,’ he said. ‘But I do not choose now to do what I came to do. I will not do this deed. The Ring is mine!’ And suddenly, as he set it on his finger, he vanished from Sam’s sight. Sam gasped, but he had no chance to cry out, for at that moment many things happened.[6]

Frodo was both victorious and defeated. He had come to his destination, but once he got there, he found all the times he had given into the power of the ring caused him to finally let the habit take over and consume him. As he took possession of the ring, he became possessed by his own evil inclinations, thinking, as all do, that he will use his perverted will for the sake of some good goal. And yet, because of all he had done, the war was able to be won; for he had done much good up to that point in time, including saving Gollum from death. This good was able to be the means by which Frodo, and the rest of the world, would be saved, as Gollum followed Frodo, took the ring from him, and in his joy, found himself falling into the fires of Mount Doom, destroying the ring by accident. Frodo is a hero; he fell into temptation but it was not enough to overcome the grace; he had given himself over to grace even before he had given himself into temptation, and when the two came together, grace was able to come out stronger. In Frodo’s weakness, he was still able to find victory, showing us an example of how and why even the evil we do can be turned around and used for the greater good. So long as we struggle after and seek the good, we must not despair, and that even in our weakness, we not only can be saved but shown to be holy and saintly. Tolkien, through Frodo, gives us a side of the saints which is normally glossed over or neglected in hagiography, that is the true reality of the saint as they would see themselves as fallen and unworthy of God’s love. Saints were still human, full of human frailties, and often did much which was bad; they were wounded pilgrims seeking the kingdom of God with the rest of us. Yet, we can discern a greatness in them despite their weakness, and so likewise, we are given hope for ourselves. This was something which St. Ambrose understood; in discussing the saints of the Old Testament, he once pointed out that their fallen nature was important because it helped us have the right understanding of saints. When we avoid lifting up the saints with romantic visions which ignore their foibles, we will better understand how we can be like them, struggle with failures while still working out our salvation. Even with our passions and bad habits, we can become holy thanks to the grace of God, for, so long as we allow it to do so, grace is able to perfect in us what we are incapable of perfecting by ourselves.

We might not go out into the tombs; we might not face the full onslaught of evil, destroying us in body if not in soul; but we all have journeys to make. We are all pilgrims on this earth. We all face the darkness within and without. We all find ourselves wounded, both from within and without. We need help. We need each other. We cannot do it alone. We can do it, thanks to the grace of God. When we see even the great saints, or literary representatives which resemble the saints, falling and yet thriving, we should realize we have been given signs of hope. God’s mercy and love is greater than our frailty. But this is not to say we do nothing; we must strive, we must wrestle – with the help of God—all our life, fighting for what is good and true. The structures of sin, the ring of evil which tempts humanity individually and socially to embrace evil, will eventually be put into the fire; but before it destroyed, we must realize we will often succumb to its influences, claiming what it offers to us for ourselves. Fear not. Like Frodo in the Lord of the Rings, we will find God is able to take into account all we have done in our struggles for the good, to use the limited good which we have achieved, and use it to complete his own work in us, so that as the ring of evil is destroyed, we do not have to be destroyed along with it.

 

[Image=Temptation of St. Anthony by Bernardo Parentino [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons]

 

[1] St. John of Avila, Audia, filia – Listen, O Daughter. Trans. Joan Francis Gormley (New York: Paulist Press, 2006), 104.

[2] St. John of Avila, Audia, filia – Listen, O Daughter, 106.

[3] J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings Collector’s Edition: Fellowship of the Ring  (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1965; rp. n.d.), 151.

[4] J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings Collector’s Edition: Fellowship of the Ring, 152.

[5] J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings Collector’s Edition: Fellowship of the Ring, 153.

[6] J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings Collector’s Edition: Return of the King, 223.

 

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July 2, 2017

July 2, 2017 By

The sad case surrounding baby Charlie Gard has led the Vatican to issue a statement in defense of the medical community. While it is understandable how and why parents might not want to admit the facts surrounding their baby, doctors, who are much better trained and know what is and is not possible, need to be heeded so that baby Charlie does not end up suffering needlessly due to the unjust expectations and desires of his parents.

Sadly, so many do not understand the issues at hand, and believe that Catholic teaching suggests we must hold on to earthly life to the bitter end, using any and every means possible to do so, natural or unnatural. This is not, and has never been, the case.[1] Life is a good, but temporal existence is not meant to be prolonged beyond reasonable measure. We are not to seek death, nor should we excuse the unjust death of others. On the other hand, we should not seek an unnatural prolonging of life in the world. A person should not be forced to live a life as an undead person, a life of perpetual death, where they face the forces of death always present with them while the good which is provided by death is never attained.  Death can bring us out of the pain and suffering of the world, and so it is not something to be absolutely feared; rather, like St Paul, we should always accept that death is indeed going to come for us and when it does, it does not need to be seen as a loss: “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (1 Philp. 1:21 RSV). Thus, we are to find that with our faith in Christ, we do not die in vain, we do not die without hope. In our death, we hope to find our rest in and with Christ, knowing that we can be received by him and resurrected to true and eternal life in and with him. “But we would not have you ignorant, brethren, concerning those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope” (1 Thes. 4:13 RSV). Death, then, can be a good, not because we were created for the sake of death as our final end, but rather, because we were meant for eternal life and death is the passage which we now have to face to get there. Death is what is able to bring us out of the calamities of temporal existence with all the hardship it brings, once we have truly come to the time when our life should be at an end. “The righteous man perishes, and no one lays it to heart; devout men are taken away, while no one understands. For the righteous man is taken away from calamity, he enters into peace; they rest in their beds who walk in their uprightness” (Isa. 57:1-2 RSV).

Knowing this, we know we should not idolize temporal existence, thinking it was what we were always meant for and so should be preserved at all costs. Even if there had been no sin, temporal existence would have only been the beginning of our journey; we were always meant to go beyond it, into eternal life. God became man so that man can become God: the goal God had in store for us was communion with him and participation in his eternal life. The incarnation takes that normative goal and adds to it all that we need in order to attain it because of the harm that sin has caused us in our lives. If we ignored this transcendent goal, and thought that the life, the immortality, which was meant for us was merely prolonged temporal existence, it is easy to see how this will make us try to continue on with that goal, prolong and stretch out our earthly life, and in doing so, cause ourselves great harm, for we will have the same life-force in us, but now being used and stretched out longer and so quite thin in the process.

This, then, should explain why we must not do anything and everything possible to sustain earthly life when it can no longer continue, and death is at hand. If we take someone who is dying, and find a way to keep their life force stuck in their mortal coil, for however long this last, they will find themselves in a living death, which will be full of suffering without any of the good of life itself. This is why there cannot be any expectation or requirement to unnaturally prolong their earthly existence: it is fine to let them experience the peace found in death. This is not a rejection of life, but the realization that their life has already come to an end; their time has come, and all that is being done is preventing the last elements of life from going forth its natural way with them, causing them to live in and of the world in a ghastly state, not truly alive, not truly free. Forcing them to go on in such a state is not pro-life, but rather, pro-death, because it brings the powers of death into the temporal real, incarnating them, and making people face it in perpetuity until at last, they are let go and free to die. As long as they remain in such a state, the suffering of life, but not the joys, continue on with them; who could be so cruel as to force them to live that way, if that is all that they will ever have? It is not natural, it is not good; it can even be said to be torturous and therefore sinful to force them to persist in such a state without allowing them to experience the good of death itself.

Doctor Who Cyberman by Jordanhill School D&T Dept (Dr. Who Exhibition at the Kelvingrove) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
Doctor Who Cyberman by Jordanhill School D&T Dept (Dr. Who Exhibition at the Kelvingrove) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
What is said here must not be misunderstood. We are not to actively go out and kill someone, but neither must we actively seek to prolong the misery of life through artificial means, turning against the very meaning of life by doing so. Suicide and euthanasia are unjust because they use unnatural means to bring about death which had not yet been reached. They contravene against nature, seeking to destroy something which is still thriving; it is of the same madness as is found in those who will torture people to life through artificial medical means.  Cybernetic implants, imitating the functions of live, do not provide true life, if all they do is replace the bodily functions of life without including the spiritual nature of life with them. This is greatly explored with the Cybermen in the television series, Doctor Who, were people find their bodily parts replaced by bits and pieces of technological upgrades; through the process, very few of their original bodily elements remain, very little of what made them human can be found; and yet the upgrades do not come without a cost; the process drains them of their spirit, they become almost like machines themselves, with whatever remains of their humanity suffering the indignity of being forced to accept their transformation through programming which demonstrates the final dissolution of their personal being: they are hooked up to a machine which will not live them die – nor be themselves.
Nazgul by Danijel on DeviantArt [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
Nazgul by Danijel on DeviantArt [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
Likewise, Tolkien, in and with his Ring-wraiths, the Nazgul, demonstrated the perversity of trying to hold on to life at all costs, for the Nazgul once were nine great men, great Lords, who had been seduced by the promises of Sauron. They lived, and were given a simulacrum of immortality, but in doing so, they find their lives merely stretched, not made greater, so that they existed as mere shadows, living in death, unable to die but also no longer truly alive. This, Tolkien was able to explain, as Gandalf explained who the Nazgul were to Frodo, as he explained that there were once human Lords who received a great ring of power from Sauron:

‘In Eregion long ago many Elven-rings were made, magic rings as you call them, and they were, of course, of various kinds: some more potent and some less. The lesser rings were only essays in the craft before it was full-grown, and to the Elven-smiths they were but trifles — yet still to my mind dangerous for mortals. But the Great Rings, the Rings of Power, they were perilous.

‘A mortal, Frodo, who keeps one of the Great Rings, does not die, but he does not grow or obtain more life, he merely continues, until at last every minute is a weariness. And if he often uses the Ring to make himself invisible, he fades: he becomes in the end invisible permanently, and walks in the twilight under the eye of the dark power that rules the Rings. Yes, sooner or later — later, if he is strong or well-meaning to begin with, but neither strength nor good purpose will last — sooner or later the dark power will devour him.’

‘How terrifying!’ said Frodo.[2]

Thus, Tolkien and Doctor Who both express the horror which must be rejected, a horror made possible by those who misunderstand what life is and what death is, and who will fight the end of temporal existence by any and all means. Likewise, both demonstrate what becomes of such a person: they become, as it were, an undead force seeking to convert others to be like them, an evil wraith incapable of free thought as they find their activity all works for the prolonging of their worthless existence.

Certainly, this is not to deny the good of the medical profession, nor the good which is had by those whose life has been preserved through the hands of a good doctor. Medicine is good so long as it brings about healing, so that it improves the quality and not just the quantity of life. Neither the good of life, when it remains, nor the good of death, are to be rejected – each have been given to us as gifts. Sadly, so many get confused, and either embrace ghoulish existence as life, and force such undead existence upon others, never allowing them rest, or others see no value in life, and are quick to kill of those who truly could thrive again. We must act with prudence, not ideology; nihilism became a problem as hope was drained from the world, but we must remember, its inversion is also an ideology which must be rejected, for it too knows no hope, no hope for the dead. Christians, having rejected the temptation of nihilism, have now found themselves tempted by its inversion; let us never fall for it.  “A good name is better than precious ointment; and the day of death, than the day of birth.  It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting; for this is the end of all men, and the living will lay it to heart” (Eccl. 7:1-2 RSV).

 

[1] The Vatican, therefore, has made it clear that basic, normative care is to be expected, but extraordinary care which hurts the patient and is of no benefit to them is not. Thus, we read in commentary to the CDF’s Responses to Certain Questions of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops Concerning Artificial Nutrition and Hydration, “On the other hand, this duty in general includes only the use of those means which, considering all the circumstances, are ordinary, that is to say, which do not impose an extraordinary burden on the patient or on others.” Disproportionate means are not expected. Ron Hamel, PHD, Director of the Catholic Health Association in St Louis explained that this meant, among other things, extreme physical discomfort could create the situation in which even normative means are impossible and cannot be forced, but this has to be determined in a case by case basis with actual proof of the harm being done. In the situation with Charlie Gard, this is exactly what the medical community has done.

[2] J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring in The Lord of the Rings: Collector’s Edition (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1966), 56.

 

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May 29, 2017

May 29, 2017 By

Grendel by J. R. Skelton [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
Grendel by J. R. Skelton [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
In medieval lore, various so-called monsters became famous, with Grendel from Beowulf being one of them who is remembered to this day. The question of his origin was raised in Beowulf, and in the text, it was suggested that he came from the line of Cain:

Even thus did the men of that company live in mirth and happiness, until one began to work deeds of wrong, a fiend of hell. Grendel was the grim creature called, the ill-famed haunter of the marches of the land, who kept the moors, the fastness of the fens, and, unhappy one, inhabited long with the troll-kind’s home; for the Maker had proscribed him with the race of Cain. That bloodshed, for that Cain slew Abel, the Eternal Lord avenged; no joy had he of that violent deed, but God drove him for that crime far from mankind. Or him all evil broods were born, ogres and goblins and haunting shapes of hell, and the giants too, that long time warred with God – for that he gave them their reward.[1]

The implications of this is that, contrary to the most literal and simplistic understanding of Genesis, Noah’s flood did not encompass the whole of the world, for how else could someone with Cain’s blood survive and end up producing the family from which Grendel was to be produced?

Beowulf is famous for trying to merge traditional lore with Christian theology, causing complications such as how and why Grendel was able to be born, but it also shows us that Christians have long tried to merge together the Christian faith to what was known, or believed to be known, from history and even scientific research. Scripture was taken to proclaim the truth, but it was understood to do so in a means which was different from pure history, that it took theological themes and encased them in mythic form. The discussion and debate as to what was to be taken literally and what could be taken as mere allegorical myth can be seen from the earliest stages of Christian history, and different authors, different authorities can be shown to hold different conclusions while remaining united in the Christian faith. Extreme literalism with Scripture was not seen as a necessary component of the Christian faith, and indeed, often seen as to contradict the spirit of the faith and had to be undermined as a result.

St. Augustine, recognizing the difficulty involved in the interpretation of Scriptural texts, tried to preserve their literal meaning, though he did so in a way which differs from what moderns mean by the notion. For him, as with many who followed after him, the literal value of the text is the meaning the author intended (while other meanings and values could be put in it beyond their understanding, thanks to the direction of the Holy Spirit), which sometimes, often, indeed most of the time for Augustine, was based upon a historical reality. Augustine tried to preserve the notion of a history which existed as the basis for Scriptural texts, while acknowledging that reading them without proper hermeneutical strategies would lead people astray: he was not literalist in the modern sense of the term, even when he presented the text and tried to preserve it as a source for historical knowledge. As there were significant limits to the knowledge of world history, many presumptions he used turned out to be wrong, yet how he used those assumptions provide us strategies and methods which we can use for engaging Scripture today with contemporary science and modern historical knowledge.

The question of monsters, of those who were different, was presented in The City of God as both something to wonder about and be amazed, but also as a way of showing how humanity itself can change over time, creating not just individuals who differed from the norm, but whole societies which take on such changes and make for radically different forms of “humanity” as a result. That is, Augustine was able to see God as working evolutionary change within humanity to produce such changes which we would now describe as evolutionary mutations, and he saw how they could result in some radically new creation, that is, what we would describe as speciation.

Augustine, therefore, differs in part from the author of Beowulf as to how to understand the origin of Grendel and any other such monsters which were known to exist in the world. While he agreed that they came from the same root, Adam, and so he wanted to declare them to all be human (and thus not be discriminated against), he did not think they had to come from the bloodline of Cain, so as not to have to deal with the question of Noah, but more importantly, as a way of showing that they should not be seen as morally degenerate and evil just because they were different.

Thus, when Augustine talks about so-called monsters, about those marvels who are unusual, he saw they could be said to be wonderful because of their unique status in the world: “What is clear, however, is that nature produces a normal type for the most part, and a thing is wonderful only because it is rare.”[2] With this as a realization that these unique persons, these monsters which were often believed to represent some foreshadowing of change for humanity, indeed, a divine sign which should be properly explored and understood (not all such signs had to be seen as indication of some great evil was to occur). Augustine, then, unlike many later medieval, did not assume the worst when such monsters, such signs, were evident in the world, and his words should be used to show why any discrimination against someone because they are different from the rest should be rejected; when he talks about monsters, he is not assuming any moral quality to them, but only sees them as marvels which show up in the world and must be seen as a thing of wonder. Augustine did not want readers to assume negative connotations with the word, monster, and so we must take that in consideration when he read him talking about them. This we can see when he wrote:

Just, therefore, as it was possible for God to create any natures He chose to create, so it is no less possible for Him to change any qualities He chooses to change in any natures He chose to create. This, then, is the root from which there has grown the whole forest of portents which the pagans have called monstra, ostenta, portenta and prodigia. There are so many that merely to recall, let alone relate, them here would make it impossible for me to ever finish this work. A monstrum (from monstrare, to point to) means a marvel that points to some meaning. So, ostentum (from ostendere, to show) and portentum (from portendere or praeostendre, to show ahead of time) and prodigum (from porro dicere, to declare things a long way off) all mean a marvel that is a prediction of things to come.[3]

April 12, 2017

April 12, 2017 By

Brad Dourif, who played Wormtongue in The Lord of the Rings. Photograph by Diane Krauss (DianeAnna) (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/) or CC BY-SA 2.5 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5)], via Wikimedia Commons
Brad Dourif, who played Wormtongue in The Lord of the Rings. Photograph by Diane Krauss (DianeAnna) (Own work) CC BY-SA 2.5 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5)], via Wikimedia Commons
After all the debate over the so-called Benedict Option,  I decided to invite Grima Wormtongue to offer his own advice for the future of Catholicism. Today, Spy Wednesday, he got back with me and offered the following words:

The world is a mess. Danger lurks everywhere.  Evil is winning.

Look. The world is changing. Everything you knew about the world of your youth is gone. The landscape is all different. Evil is afoot.

There is really nothing much you can do about it. Stop trying to fix the world. It’s outside of your control. Most of the world will be taken over by evil. Accept it. Stop letting your pride think you can do something about it. You can’t.

There is something you can do. It is not all hopeless. The world might give way to evil, but you can encase yourself in your own intentional community, holding up against the evils of the world as you preserve yourself from its evil influence.

You should not seek out for what you can do for others. Stop thinking you can help them out. They are a lost cause. Rather, seek to bring your people together and in create for them and yourself a small little stronghold of the good.

Anyone who asks for your help, turn away.  If you help them, they will be using resources which you and your community needs.

Think this through.

You are old. You have done your duty for others, now is the time for you to rest.

Is it your fault it is now a dark time, and the world is falling apart? No. You have done what you can for the world. You have done good. But now it is time for you to retire.

Those who would pick your bones and grow fat on your resources claim they want to go to war to save the world, but all they would do is live off of you as a parasite, as the world crumbles around us.

There is nothing you can do to save other communities. Once you understand this, you can truly get to work with your one last good. You can build up your own small community and protect it against all outsiders. Be kind, welcome those who are willing to join your community if they have something to give to you, but be cautious, and avoid anyone who comes seeking help. They will come and take and take and take until you have nothing left. Then what will you do when the enemy comes for you? Those who truly care for you will ask for nothing and will give of themselves to help defend our community.

Do not tax yourself with the worries of the world. If people come asking for your help, turn them away because of the evil they would bring to our community. You have earned your rest. Go, take your meat, and eat. It is yours. You have earned your keep.

But if you truly feel you must go out, if you feel the need to heed the call and help someone else one last time with your waning strength, go if you must.  But remember, I am here for you. Let me take care of your community. I will protect it for you. I will make sure it thrives while you are away. No, I do not recommend going, it is best we keep to ourselves, but if you must go, if you must use up your last remaining strength, know everything is in good hands with me. I will make sure everyone gets what they deserve. I will make sure they will survive, away from the darkness, preserved here, in our bastion of hope. The world outside might perish, but we will survive, and once the time of darkness is over, we will then be free to go out in the world and render it our light.

— Thank you Grima!

 

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February 20, 2017

February 20, 2017 By

Jesus Christ from Hagia Sophia. Photograph by Edal Anton Lefterov (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
Jesus Christ from Hagia Sophia. Photograph by Edal Anton Lefterov (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
There are several purposes for which Holy Scripture can be used.  First, it is to reveal the Word of God, Christ, in iconographic form. Its texts, when collected together, establishes the foundational image the church uses to proclaim the truth of God revealed in Jesus Christ. The book, when looked as a whole, points to Christ, so that all of it can be said to speak of Jesus. The Torah, and with it the prophets and wisdom literature which emerged from it, therefore represents Christ, and to understand Christ is to see him in the Torah and the Torah in him: the Word made flesh. “If you believed Moses, you would believe me, for he wrote of me” (Jn. 5:46 RSV). Likewise, the New Testament continues the testimony of Jesus, revealing not the foreshadow and preparation for his incarnation, but for the actual event itself. That is, the New Testament presents to us the eschatological one incarnating in time and becoming man, acting in and with us, revealing the fullness of the kingdom of God through his words and deeds.

Another purpose for Scripture is to reveal the history of humanity working and struggling with God. From its stories, we learn what it means to wrestle with God, both in the way humans struggle against the wishes of God, but also, what it is like to have God by our side as we fight against the fallen spiritual powers which dominate the world and try to keep it separate from union with God. We see in it God interacting with humanity, leading humanity to some great goal. We also see many instances of God willingly make room for humanity, to let humanity make its own destiny and become whatever it would like to make of itself. We see in it the power of God which is established through his love as well as the grace God is willing to extend to humanity through his providence.

If we read Scripture as representing history, we must be careful and not assume it to be history in the modern, positivistic sense, but in the mythic sense, revealing the developing self-awareness of the People of God. It is in this light it is understandable that opinions and beliefs will change and develop, and so within the text, apparent contradictions will be seen.  The contradictions only qualify as such if Scripture is understood purely as the letter and all that is in it is to be interpreted following the most unsophisticated and hyper-literal form possible, and every text, in and of the letter of the text, is believed to have equal value and authority.  There is an internal cohesion which unifies the text, transcending the particulars but seen through them, just as our beliefs and practices in our youth will look superficial and contradictory to what we believe and understand as adults, and yet they are part of the stages which lead to our adulthood and what we believe to this day is connected to what we believed before.

Likewise, Scripture is also intended to help guide us in our lives, to grant us wisdom which we can use to help us act prudentially in our daily activities. Prudence is necessary, and Scripture provides the means by which we can receive that prudence, for provides the examples and moral foundations by which we can establish principles for today. Here, again, an overly literal understanding would be a problem, for it would lead to the kind of legalism which turns guidelines into absolutes, not understanding the difference between the two, and so overburdening the reader with a collection of laws which no one could fulfill. The fact that when the text is read in a legalistic manner, it becomes difficult to understand how and why the same actions can be approved and condemned in Scripture, should demonstrate that such a simplistic reading is not intended of the text. As Origen and many others have indicated, such apparent self-contradictions on the surface level should be evidence enough that the text is to be read in a different manner, if the text is to be properly understood.

Finally, Scripture reveals how we are to be saved, but also, what happens after, our union with God. To discern what the text indicates is necessary for salvation requires more than reading one or another verse talking about salvation, but to read them all together, to see what they establish when brought together as one whole, lest we end up ignoring various expectations Scripture gave us for our salvation.

While not a conclusive list, these purposes serve as the basic foundations for a Christian theological engagement with Scripture. Certainly, in our exploration, we can engage the texts with various critical methods. We can examine the texts within it  with historical-critical eyes, looking at Scripture like an archeologist, seeing differences of opinions and theological understanding over time; we can see how texts were written and edited together by a later redactor who sometimes radically modified the text, and find things of interest which emerge as we see anew the past, but like Tolkien with Beowulf, we must understand the core interest must remain as how the church has brought the text together, edited together through the centuries, modifying it until it fit the icon it wanted to make, and engage that core, finalized text as our point of entry.[1] Realizing the history of how it came to be written and brought together as one final text does not discount the authority of that final form, just as it does not undermine the final form Beowulf has taken as being the authoritative form of the text. To try to discount its finished form because of the tinkering which went in to its production would be like discounting the final, printed form of any text which has undergone a series of drafts before a final, polished form is used for publication. As a good story-teller, the church collected a variety of texts to present its intended meaning, engaging what had been rendered to it while purifying and polishing it to its own desired end.

 

[1] Tolkien, in his seminal speech and essay, “Beowulf: The Monster and the Critics,” was concerned with the kind of scholarship which had followed Beowulf; such scholarship tended to be interested in everything but the poem itself. He presented in it an allegory of the problem in which a house is made from old stones, but the house is not the same in its history and purpose as those old stones from which it was made:

I would express the whole industry in yet another allegory. A man inherited a field in which was an accumulation of old stone, part of an older hall. Of the old stone some had already been used in building the house in which he actually lived, not far from the old house of his fathers. Of the rest he took some and built a tower. But his friends coming perceived at once (without troubling to climb the steps) that these stones had formerly belonged to a more ancient building. So they pushed the tower over, with no little labour, in order to look for hidden carvings and inscriptions, or to discover whence the man’s distant forefathers had obtained their building material. Some suspecting a deposit of coal under the soil began to dig for it, and forgot even the stones. They all said: ‘This tower is most interesting.’ But they also said (after pushing it over): ‘What a muddle it is in!’ And even  the  man’s  own  descendants,  who  might  have  been expected  to  consider  what  he  had  been about, were heard to murmur: ‘He is such an odd fellow! Imagine his using these old stones just to build a nonsensical tower! Why did not he restore the old house? He had no sense of proportion.’ But from the top of that tower the man had been able to look out upon the sea.

J.R.R. Tolkien, “Beowulf: The Monster and the Critics” in The Monster & The Critics and Other Essays. ed. Christophe Tolkien (London: Harper Collins, 1997), 7-8.

Scholars interested only in the building blocks might note how the house uses stones for different purposes than they were used before, and so will ask the house to be reformed to meet the original use of those stones, ignoring the reason for the changes and the good of the new house itself. This served as a foundation for Tolkien’s desire to revolutionize Beowulf scholarship, to have more focus on the poem itself, and what it does in its own merit, and likewise, serves as an example of how other compiled texts should be examined. Yes, the parts can be of interest, but when brought together as a whole, the parts can be changed, and to look at them from their early use will fail to ignore those changes and what they establish in the new context.

 

 

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November 5, 2016

November 5, 2016 By

Danse Macabre [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
Danse Macabre [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
Praised be You, my Lord,
through our Sister Bodily Death,

from whom no living man can escape.  – St. Francis of Assisi

Doctor Strange.

Strange as it might seem, Doctor Strange is one of my favorite comic books from my youth. I loved stories with magic, mystery, and the supernatural. D.C.’s House of Mystery and Swamp Thing, and Marvel’s Doctor Strange were my early staples. When both House of Mystery and Doctor Strange were cancelled, I would eventually find myself reading X-Men, Captain America, Spider-Man, Batman, and Groo. But the intrigue of House of Mystery and Doctor Strange would remain with me, with Doctor Strange being one of those comic book heroes whose stories would inspire me, in part, in the creation of my own fictional hero, Montague Chillingham. [1]

I have seen the old televised Doctor Strange movie, and thought parts of it were quite good, and it could have worked as a nice pilot for a series, but I also understood how poor the whole of it was and why nothing more came of it. When I heard Marvel was planning to eventually do a Doctor Strange movie, I knew they could get it right this time. I was somewhat disappointed at the choice of the lead, not because I do not like Benedict Cumberbatch but because I felt others would have served the role better.  I knew he could do the part well, and so it was not much of a concern. When they cast the Ancient One, like many others, I entirely disagreed with their choice – and I still do, not because Tilda Swinton is a bad actress, but because it radically changes the character for no good reason (as well as the problem of Whitewashing an Asian character).

Nonetheless, this is not meant to be a review of the film. Several people have provided their own views. As for myself, I thought it is good,  but not as great as it could have been. There were things I wished would have happened by the end which did not, thereby weakening the potential of the film and the tragedy of the end. They needed to have the conflict between Doctor Strange and Mordo more evidence to Strange himself, and I think they should have had Strange receive more direct indication of his destiny by the Ancient  One.  Nonetheless, the film is as expected with a Marvel origin story. It is entertaining, but at least for me, the greatness of Doctor Strange was not fully explored, and so the movie, as good as it was, suffered from my own expectations. But , it is also true, that the concerns I have are minor in relation to the film itself and are more personal because of my previous experience with the character than what the average viewer would have had with him.

What this is – is an exploration of one of the movie’s two significant themes. The first, which connects the second, is the error of humanity trying to dictate to the universe its own rules and order to nature because nature transcends what humans are capable of understanding and controlling. When we try to impose order, we create disorder, and with that disorder, suffering. Mordo in the film represents what could happen with someone with good intentions whose desire to maintain control through law and order finds out the rules they thought they knew were wrong. He then creates a new mindset, a new set of rules, a new law and order which he is willing to defend with extreme prejudice.

By Prishank Thapa [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
By Prishank Thapa [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
The second theme is that of life and death, knowing when it is appropriate to preserve life and when it is time to let life go and accept death. Doctor Strange, as a great physician, learned how to preserve life, to bring people back from the point of death itself, but even then, those he brought back were those who were capable of having life restored without any artificial means being used to prolong life once it is restored. That is, he knew how to help the body heal, to determine when death was not necessary, and so when he could save someone’s life so that they could have a life worth living.

The key is that life, when it is able to be meaningful and capable of being preserved, is worth saving.

But there are those who think life should be preserved by any means necessary, and the prolonging of temporal life is what is important, even if it means an increase in suffering through a meaningless existence. In the film, the main villain, Kaecilius, desires to have temporal immortality, and he has found that it is possible through the aid of Dormammu and the powers of the “dark dimension.”  Life, his life and those of his followers, could be preserved, but the cost is great – giving up the earth to Dormammu, and, as Doctor Strange came to realize, it would also come with great cost to themselves. They might be made immortal, but the life they had would be artificial, prolonged pain and suffering without any relief. They would preserve life, material life, at the expense of the spirit.

Kaecilius, however, knew something that Doctor Strange, Mordo and others would have to learn: the Ancient One was indeed Ancient, had lived thousands of years, but he discovered the means by  which she found  to preserve her life. She was drawing upon the power of the “dark dimension.”  This made her a hypocrite according to Kaecilius. And in a way, she is correct, but his answer, to embrace that which she fought against, clearly was not the answer. We are not told exactly how she extended her life, but we did see some of the cost which came as a result of her doing so. We see that it had in part, affected her;  though she has fought the darkness, it still found ways to come out thanks to what she had done. While she might have had good reason and tried the best of means to extend her life, and it was more natural than not allowing it to be on the side of the good, the evil still tainted her and so she still had to face the consequences of her actions. She still feared death. Yes, in a way, she had already accepted it; but she also had experienced a vision of when she would die, and she knew it would come, though it would seem she tried to stop it as long as she could. She did not want to face it. Since Doctor Strange was with her at the moment, it is likely she knew he would be there. Perhaps, more than what she told Mordo, this is why she first tried to cast Doctor Strange aside and not teach him: she knew his entrance into her life meant her death was coming sooner than later. She had to accept it was time to let go, but because she had kept her existence for so long, she was still too attached to her life, and so almost had the world suffer by not leaving behind Doctor Strange as her heir apparent. There is good in the preservation of life, but even with good motives, playing with life and death can still end up causing harm.

What we must do is learn to accept that when it is time, we should embrace death in order to have a good death. This is not to say that we should kill ourselves, that we should accept the annihilation of life through euthanasia when life continues naturally; but it means we must embrace death as the true end of our temporal life, that our life indeed has an end and in that end, who and what we are can be determined. Selfish artificial preservation of life creates pain and suffering and can be as wrong as the premature killing of someone who should not yet die (all forms of homicide). Accepting death as a part of life becomes a strength so long as it is not the nihilistic embrace of death. The proper acceptance of death is accepting life when death is understood as the last part of life. When we try to oppose nature and try to put the last moments of life in a kind of temporal loop, a suspended animation, we oppose life itself because we reject the order of nature which includes death.

Doctor Strange, the Doctor who had the miraculous ability to bring people back to full life when he was a surgeon, would have to learn to accept death itself. He did not want to fight. He did not think the fight was his. But he was called to it – the mission came to him. Like many called to be priests in the ancient world, he tried to flee from his vocation, but all around him the calling came to him, and in the end, it is when he was able to embrace death itself that he was able to save life and affirm his calling. He had to embrace death as a good, as a part of what it means to be pro-life; he had to accept his own limitation and that if his own death could save the world, he should give up his life and fulfilling his calling.  And so he embraced death – again and again and again and again – until the powers of darkness saw it was trapped by the final power of true life. Death conquered the darkness, and prevented the creation of hell on earth. In learning how to stop worrying about the fight, about trying to control life and death, and learning to love the value and meaning of death, Doctor Strange was able to save the world.  Death is a part of life; we cannot have life without death, nor death without life. We can’t embrace one without accepting the other. Focusing and embracing only one leads to an extremism which corrupts those who follow such a partial embrace of life and death. Only by thanking God for sister death and embracing death when the time has come for death does life truly get affirmed. [2]

 

[1] H.P. Lovecraft, Charles Williams and Conan Doyle had more direct influence in the creation of my fictional hero, I can see, after the fact, how Doctor Strange has also always been there in the background. One day, I hope to properly edit all my stories and publish them.

[2] Theologically speaking, it is because we are made for transcendence, for eternal life, not just temporal life, that makes death invaluable; prolonging of temporal existence is not eternal life, but its cruel shadow, as Tolkien demonstrated through the creation of the Ring Wraiths in The Lord of the Rings.

 

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