Monday, May 30, 2011

TMM: Don't Just Ask Me Why

In my last post for the Nicene Guys, I noted that my generation might easily be called "Generation Why?" because we by-and-large have been a generation which has time and again asked this question. I also noted that this can be, but is not necessarily, a good thing. My friend Mr Nathan Kennedy summarized this nicely in a comment:
While it is true that, as Fr. Rutler notes, our generation is not a stupid one and that our generation has been at the mercy of the previous one, there still exists one of the most pernicious effects that these failed experiments had on us. Such poor catechesis and revamping of the traditions did a grave violence to the religious intellects of our generation, so much so that it has often led us to abandon intellectual curiosity and the desire to learn. In my experience, what's more important to our generation is what is "cool", what is likely to allow a person to define his own identity in relation to his social environment. Intellectual endeavors are a scandal to such a priority, and sadly, this same kind of thinking has become very pervasive in the Church. 

Too true. My own thought more-or-less mirror this:
We ask, "Why is our morality the way it is, be it traditional or the confused malaise we've inherited?" which might prompt us to either look for answers and discover that the traditional Judeo-Christian morality isn't arbitrary at all (and thus to try and embrace it), or it may cause us to shrug off all morality and become hedonists, nihilists, or cynics. "Why haven't I been properly catechized, and why don't I know my own religion's beliefs?" might prompt Catechism (or Bible) studies, or it may prompt a shrug of the shoulders and a gradual slide into "relationship without religion," pantheistic "spiritualism," agnostic indifference, or (worse) neo-paganism and occcult paranaturalism.
What I mostly mean by this is that just asking why is not in itself a good thing. Once, asking why might have been the mark of mere curiosity--in and of itself not necessarily good--but now it generally does not even rise to that level. To ask "why" is good if it is done because of a true desire to learn something, to gain understanding (or better yet, wisdom). Sometimes this is the reason behind "why?": especially true when asked by a person who is genuinely trying to learn more about his religion--or another religion or worldview for that matter. Unfortunately, this is most frequently true of that minority of the population who is considering converting from one religion to another, eg. from Protestant to Catholic, from atheist to Christian, from Islam to atheism, etc; to a lesser extent, it's true of people who "convert" from apathy to sincerity, that is to taking his religion or worldview seriously.

Far more frequently, "why?" is asked without the least concern for the answer, or even without that bit of curiosity which may grow into actual interest in the answers. Curiosity may be indifferent, seeking a sort of intellectual entertainment, or it may grow into a desire for knowledge, and then understanding. When "why?" is asked without even the desire to satisfy curiosity, but rather as a defensive measure against learning, then we have the closing of a person's mind. Such is the beginning of cynicism, and the ending (indeed, abolition) not only of faith but of philosophy. To this "why?" no answer is owed--whether by the catechist or the apologist. The only just response from either towards the cynics is to shake the dust from his feet in protest (Matthew 10:14), though charity requires something more (mercy), which is prayer.

And though "Generation Why?" tends more towards the cynical than the philosophical, it is not too late for this to change. We are, after all, still quite young, and the graceful desire for wisdom and understanding may yet build on the nature which prompts a curious or even an indifferent "why?"
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*Update: Our Holy Father has a bit more to say on the subject of indifference and its relationship to Faith (and the need for evangelization). Tip of the derby cap to Mr Kevin Knight.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Nicene Guys Feed: Generation Why?

The recent post by Mr Joe Carter of First things about Generation X Conservatives--and Mr Mark Shea's analysis thereof--has brought me back to a topic which I've pondered on occasion. This is the identity of my own generation, unimaginatively dubbed "Generation Y" because it's the generation after Generation X, I suppose; and if we are to become a lost generation, then I suppose that the one to follow us might be called "Generation Z," which might just as well be a generation asleep.

And though we're only just now coming of age (I am at the old end of Generation Y), we have already collected quite a few nicknames. We're the Millennials (apparently, because we come of age in the new millennium, though I'd think the name would be better suited for those who are born in the new millennium); the Peter-Pan generation, because we have delayed growing up (can you blame us, with the "adult" role models we've been given?); the echo-Boomers--which doesn't bode well, especially if we inherit their deserved nickname and become Generation Narcissus 2.0--the list goes on.

And though we're only just now coming of age (or maybe delaying the coming of age?), there is another name which i think fits us better than any of these.It's not too far off from our rather unimaginative name "Generation Y", in fact it is (as Mr Andrew Elster pointed out to me) a play on words with our designation. We are "Generation Why?".

Read the rest on the Nicene Guys site.

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If you enjoyed this post, here are some related ones:

The Myth of the Golden Era
Thoughts on My Generation in the Church (Thirty Minute Musings)
Ignorance vs A Desire to Learn (Thirty Minute Musings)
Warnings and Ignorance
Science and the Death of Wonder
The Idiocy of Modern Man
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Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Contemplata Tradere: Three Temptations of Saint Thomas Aquinas

Note:  The following reflection is excerpted from a presentation which I will tentatively be giving for the next meeting of North Austin chapter of the Lay Dominicans. It is as a part of our ongoing book study, The Dominican Tradition; the chapter which we are currently reading is about Saint Thomas Aquinas. As always, I will eventually post the whole thing, though probably on the Nicene Guys site.  Enjoy!

Much like Christ did in the desert, Saint Thomas faced three temptations (which we know of) prior to beginning his public life as a Dominican Friar. This is where the first of these temptations begins. He was here offered easy entry into a well-known and widely renowned monastery, with every likelihood of becoming its abbot. As such he would be able to lead a life of prayer and contemplation, it is true; but he would also be wealthy, and would, moreover, have much of this prestige handed to him. He would become a sort of administrator or to some extent a feudal lord, albeit of a monastery and not a manor. He might still lead a good life of holiness, but it would not be a life in obedience to his vocation. In some sense, he would have bread, but not the words which were spoken by God to his heart (see Matthew 4:4, Luke 4:4).

Obviously, he did not become a Benedictine monk, or we would not be studying him as a part of our Dominican spirituality; I think that Chesteron best explains how the events unfolded:
"In so far as we may follow rather dim and disputed events, it would seem that the young Thomas Aquinas walked into his father's castle one day and calmly announced that he had become one of the Begging Friars, of the order founded by Dominic the Spaniard; much as the eldest son of the squire might go home and airily inform the family that he had married a gypsy; or the heir of a Tory Duke state that he was walking tomorrow with the Hunger Marchers organized by alleged Communists. By this, as has been noted already, we may pretty well measure the abyss between the old monasticism and the new, and the earthquake of the Dominican and Franciscan revolution. Thomas had appeared to wish to be a Monk; and the gates were silently opened to him and the long avenues of the abbey, the very carpet, so to speak, laid for him up to the throne of the mitred abbot. He said he wished to be a Friar, and his family flew at him like wild beasts; his brothers pursued him along the public roads, half-rent his friar's frock from his back and finally locked him up in a tower like a lunatic."

From this we can really see that the new orders--Dominican and Franciscan--were really in a bit of a struggle for their acceptance if not their very continued existence. They had certainly won the approval of the Pope Honorius III, and thus the stamp of papal approval; but they were far from accepted by the nobility, and indeed by some of the other clergy. Given the political situation--the emperor fighting the pope, and nobility at times fighting the rest of the clergy--it is possible that the papal approval was the very reason why the nobility frowned upon the mendicant friars.

There is some speculation that Saint Thomas’ family at first attempted a sort of compromise with him—one which would become his second temptation. If he was so adamant that he would be a Dominican, then why not let him be a Dominican, and wear the habit of the Dominicans, but act as abbot of the monastery? Would this not technically fulfill his vocation to be a Dominican, and yet also allow him to fulfill his family’s wishes that he act as abbot in a more respected clerical career? He could bow down before his family’s wishes and claim the prestige and privilege which would come from being abbot (compare with Christ’s second temptation, Luke 4:5-8), and yet fulfill his desire to wear the habit of the Dominicans.

Saint Thomas rejected this proposal as well. As Chesterton puts is, “he wished to be a Dominican in the Dominican Order, and not at a fancy-dress ball.” I think there is a great amount which can be learned from this. We who are called to be Dominicans are called to be Dominicans, to exercise the specific charisms of the Order of Preachers, and to have as pillars of our life the four pillars of Dominican life. We should wear the symbols of our station in life (e.g. the scapular, the Dominican cross, the habits for those who are sisters or friars), but being Dominican is about far more than being a part of a fancy dress ball or quasi-secret society. We should be gathering as a Dominican community to study and pray together, but then to preach to the world from what we gather in our prayer and study lives: contemplari et contemplata aliis tradere.

It also means living with detachment from the world (see Matthew 6:20), but also modeling a different kind of detachment from the one modeled by the Benedictines (or Salesians, or hermits, anchorites, etc.). Whereas these various groups show detachment by largely withdrawing from the world, we show it by living in the world and yet living for something beyond the world. Whereas the monk in the monastery (or the hermit in the hermitage, or the anchor in the cell) lives apart from the world so that he will not be distracted by the things of the world, the Dominican lives in the world so that he can show that the riches of the world are incomparably less than those of heaven. As laity especially, we can do this not by spurning the riches of the world—they are there for us to enjoy—but by showing that while we are grateful for them, they are not ultimately our treasures, that we can part with them if called to do so. For the Friars, this meant the additional step of vowing to part with possessions, of owning nothing and living from the charity of others; of embracing poverty, it is true, but also living well if that charity is generous.

To be a Dominican—whether lay or nun or Friar—is to be a witness to the world by being a witness in the world. To be a monk in a monastery r a hermit in a cell is to be a witness to the world by withdrawing from the world to listen to the LORD; perhaps it is to have chosen “the better part” (Luke 10:42), but it is not to have chosen the only part, or even the only good part. Indeed, it is not to have chosen the only necessary part, and in Saint Thomas’ day, just as in Saint Dominic’s or even ours, the part of the preacher was very necessary.

Here we come to the third temptation of Saint Thomas, and though it was not his last, it was perhaps the last great one of his youth. We certainly do not hear of many others recorded after this, but can only speculate. In any event, after locking the saint in a tower as if he were a madman, the brothers of Saint Thomas decided to go one cruel step further. We are told that they introduced into his cell a woman, presumably a very beautiful one at that. Perhaps it did not occur to them that Abbots as Friars ought to remain celibate, that chastity is a rule among monks, too.

It is quite a bit more probable that they intended to have a bit of fun at his expense. Surely they were aware that he had made a vow of chastity, and that at stake were only his morality and virtue as a Christian, but also his honor as a nobleman whose word of oath was as binding to him as any contract is to us today. Perhaps they didn’t want to see him break this oath, but only to watch him squirm a bit in the company of this temptress; or perhaps they harbored darker thoughts for him. I do not think that we can say. There was certainly meant some temptation to lust, and perhaps some to vanity.

Whatever else they might have expected him to do—whether to fall into temptations of lust or to shyly attempt to push off her untoward advances, there is one thing which I do not think even they would expect. And that is that this normally quiet and probably gentle younger brother of theirs would be moved to a sort of just wrath, possibly one which resembled Christ’s as He drove the traders money-changers from the temple (John 2:14-17). A corded which he did not have at hand, but a red-hot poker from the fire was made to suffice. The poor terrified woman fled the chamber, and it would not surprise me to learn that thereafter, she sought a new career.

As for Saint Thomas, he modeled very nicely the meaning of righteous wrath and not mere rage when he failed to pursue her beyond the door, but rather barred it shut behind her. Or good measure, he also uses the poker to leave a mare or brand in the door—that of the cross. Whether he was tempted to disobedience to God through lust, or through excessive anger, we do not know. We do know that he resisted either temptation—that he did not cast himself from the tower (Luke 4:9) to avoid her, but yet did not commit any sin towards her.

There is one last parallel between the temptations of St Thomas and the temptations of His LORD. After Our LORD was tempted in the desert, some angels ministered to Him (Mark 1:13). As for St Thomas, he had a dream that night after the woman had been driven away, in which angels appeared to him and placed on him a white girdle, strengthening his resolve to remain forever celibate and chaste. The Catholic Encyclopedia tells it this way:
“When the temptress had been driven from his chamber, he knelt and most earnestly implored God to grant him integrity of mind and body. He fell into a gentle sleep, and, as he slept, two angels appeared to assure him that his prayer had been heard. They then girded him about with a white girdle, saying: "We gird thee with the girdle of perpetual virginity." And from that day forward he never experienced the slightest motions of concupiscence.”
G.K. Chesterton tells of this incident a bit more imaginatively in his Saint Thomas Aquinas:
After the affair of the firebrand, and the woman who tempted him in the tower, it is said that he had a dream; in which two angels girded him with a cord of fire, a thing of terrible pain and yet giving a terrible strength; and he awoke with a great cry in the darkness. This also has something very vivid about it, under the circumstances; and probably contains truths that will be some day better understood, when priests and doctors have learned to talk to each other without the stale etiquette of nineteenth-century negations. It would be easy to analyse the dream, as the very nineteenth-century doctor did in Armadale, resolving it into the details of the past days; the cord from his struggle against being stripped of his Friar's frock; the thread of fire running through the tapestries of the night, from the firebrand he had snatched from the fireside. But even in Armadale the dream was fulfilled mystically as well, and the dream of St. Thomas was fulfilled very mystically indeed. For he did in fact remain remarkably untroubled on that side of his human nature after the incident; though it is likely enough that the incident had caused an upheaval of his normal humanity, which produced a dream stronger than a nightmare. This is no place to analyse the psychological fact, which puzzles Non-Catholics so much: of the way in which priests do manage to be celibate without ceasing to be virile. Anyhow, it seems probable that in this matter he was less troubled than most. This has nothing to do with true virtue, which is of the will; saints as holy as he have rolled themselves in brambles to distract the pressure of passion; but he never needed much in the way of a counter-irritant; for the simple reason that in this way, as in most ways, he was not very often irritated. Much must remain unexplained, as part of the mysteries of grace; but there is probably some truth in the psychological idea of "sublimation;" that is the lifting of a lower energy to higher ends; so that appetite almost faded in the furnace of his intellectual energy. Between supernatural and natural causes, it is probable that he never knew or suffered greatly on this side of his mind.
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If you enjoyed this post, here are some other similar posts which I have written:
Saint Thomas Aquinas:  A Reflection
Contemplata Tradere:  A Reflection on Being a Dominican
Saint Thomas Aquinas and a Foretaste of the Beatific Vision
Contemplata Tradere (A Black and White Order)
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Monday, May 23, 2011

Quote of the Day: C.S. Lewis on the Importance of "Good Work" in "Good Works"

"Great works" (of art) and "good works" (of charity) had better also be Good Work. Let choirs sing well or not at all. Otherwise we merely confirm the majority in their convictions that the world of Business, which with such efficiency so much that never really needed doing, is the real, the adult, and the practical world; and that all this "culture" and all this "religion" (horrid words both) are essentially marginal, ameteurish, and rather effeminate activities.

A friend of mine often jokes that some Catholics who volunteer time and talent for charitable causes have taken the idea of tithing too far:  ten percent of their treasure, ok, and also of their time (dedicated!). But also no more than ten percent of their talents (which often means only ten percent of their capacity for thinking) need be volunteered. This often has very frustrating results, not only for those whom the volunteers is trying to help, but also for his or her fellow volunteers.

There is, however, another effect of this phenomenon of undedicated service: while the volunteers is still doing "good works," he is not doing "Good Work." He is not taking pride in his work, sure; but he is also not producing work which is worth taking pride in.  Shoddy work really does deserve to be reviled, and more so if it is because the worker hasn't put any effort into it. I think that it's fair to say that the results of this are about as Lewis outlines (on the one hand), and (on the other) that acts of charity are reduced to rituals of pity; and often poor ones at that.

Lewis does a good job of outlining what he means by saying that religion is viewed as "essentially marginal, ameteurish, and rather effiminate." The essay is titled Good Works and Good Work. He essentially notes that it is not a mark of humility to use one's abilities badly as if to not stand out; rather, a truly humble person uses all of his God-given talents (when applicable) to the glory of God and the help of his neighbor; and moreover that he uses these talents to the fullest extent necessary, with the greatest skill at his disposal. The humble part of this is in recognizing that these talents and skills are gifts from God, and therefore not boasting of them. But just as we should not boast of our talents, skills, or other abilities (Romans 11:18 and 1 Corinthians 13:4), neither should we hide them (Matthew 25:14-30).

Actually, to some extent it is not humility which causes us to hide our talents, but a sort of distorted pride or arrogance (strange as it is to imagine a distorted version of these things). Are your natural talents so great that others around you will be moved to shame in their own inadequacy whenever you exercise them? If this is why you are hiding your talents, it is worth revisiting your motives.

What do I mean when I say that acts of charity become little better than rituals of pity? I am here trying to put myself on the receiving end of a shoddy "good work" or of an poorly executed and effortless attempt at an act of charity. Does this not say that I am not worth much more? Glad as a hungry man might be to be fed, I suspect that he might deep down also be slighted when he's not accorded some sense of dignity along with his food. Giving unwanted table scraps may meet their needs; but if the scraps are truly unwanted, it also treats them as garbage disposal experts, or actually as trash receptacles. Where's the dignity in this?

Now, I am not here trying to judge or condemn every act of passing on leftovers (or hand-me-down toys and outgrown clothes, etc.). Rather, I am saying that what is being passed on should be truly worth passing on. Would you have kept those clothes for your next child, if you had another child younger than your youngest? If you had another son after your last one, would he have enjoyed playing with that toy which you're sending to charity? Or, to put either of these questions in different terms: if you held a garage sale, do you think that anyone would buy these items from you, at any price? And finally, if you hadn't just eaten, would you be likely to eat those table scraps? If the answers to these questions are no, then passing them on to the "less fortunate" is probably not an act of charity, but a mere ritual of pity.

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If you enjoyed this post, here are some related ones:

Sola Fide and Works (Nicene Guys)
Another Thought About the Importance of Good Works and Salvation
C.S. Lewis on Apologetics (Quote of the Day) 
C.S. Lewis on Art, Artists, and Good Work (Quote of the Day)
Religion or Relationship
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Sunday, May 22, 2011

Reposted TMM: The Rapture, End Times, and Whatnot

If you are reading this, presumably the rapture did not occur on Saturday, May 21, 2011 as predicted by Mr Haroldd Camping. I suppose, though, that if only 144,000 people (a literalist's interpretation of Apocalypse 7:1-8) will be taken to heaven in all the world, then the rapture might have happened and we simply didn't notice it, since this equates to roughly 1:10,000 living Christians world-wide, and would barely make a blip on the "Missing Persons" reports. It seems like a timely re-post, though.

I was recently asked about Rapture Theory:  what does the Church teach, and what do I think about it. The short answer is that that the Church does not believe in the rapture as an event which will occur before the Second Coming, but that she does believe that those of her members who are still living when Christ returns at the end of the world will be gathered together to live with Him in His kingdom forever. I can point to three articles which give a good presentation of Catholic teaching regarding the Rapture: the first is by Catholic Answers, the second by Mr Marcel Lejeune, and the third is by Mr Carl Olson, who has also written a book on the subject.

As for what I think about it: I usually don't. As far as I know, the teaching of the Church is that those who are still alive when Christ returns at the end of time will of course be separated into the saved and the damned (see Matthew 25:31-46). Those among the saved will enter into Heaven (with possibly a stop in purgatory), and the rest shall depart for hell. This will happen only after Christ's return, not before--so this is not some sort of "get out of tribulations free card."

I accept the Church's teachings as best I understand them, including as regards the second coming. This means that I simply don't spend that much time thinking about things like millienialism, pre-millienialism, and post-millienialism as opposed to amillienialism. The way I see it, I will either meet Christ as my judge at the time of my death or at the end of time (or both), and it's probably not going to matter the particular order in which this happens. And while I don't frown on speculation--I engage in it myself sometimes--I don't see any particular use as to speculating when the end of time will be.

Rather, it is best to live as if each day may be my last (see Luke 12:16-21, and Matthew Chapters 24 and 25). While I'm at it, I prefer to live as if the world itself will survive a very long time without me, because I know it can and suspect that it will. In any case, if my spiritual affairs are in order, then I will hear (as I hope to hear) "Well done, good and faithful servant" (Matthew 25:21); in the meantime, I would prefer to work to hand on a better world to future generations, in whatever form I can (see Proverbs 13:22).

Will I be surprised if Christ returns in glory before the end of my life? Yes. Will I be unprepared? I hope not, but I cannot presume to say. Christ's return tomorrow morning would be little more surprising to me than my death in a car crash on the way home tonight. If anything, it is far less likely, since billions have lived and died during the Christian era without the world's having ended.  Basically, I view the question as to whether or not Christ will return in glory to usher in the end of the world before I die as interesting for speculation and useless for my spiritual life. I view it as being on a par with questions as to whether or not hell is eternal:  my goal either way is to not go there. Similarly, as concerns whether Christ's coming is for me Eschatological before or after it is Parousian, my goal--and my hope--either way is to be ready when it happens. In the meantime, when this will happen or how is not worth worrying over too much.
"Seek ye therefore first the kingdom of God, and his justice, and all these things shall be added unto you. Be not therefore solicitous for tomorrow; for the morrow will be solicitous for itself. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof" (Matthew 6:33-34).
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The original post can be viewed here. If you enjoyed this post, here are some other related posts:
What Happens to Non-Christians When They Die: A Speculative Reflection
Christ's Return: the Parousian Sense
Christ's Return: the Eschatological Sense
Christ's Return: the Veiled Presence Sense
Of Infants and Salvation (Nicene Guys)
Pascal's Wager and Invincible Ignorance: Irreconcilable? (Nicene Guys)

Friday, May 20, 2011

Quote of the Day: C.S. Lewis on Art, Artists, and Good Work

"Artists also talk of Good Work; but decreasingly. They begin to prefer words like 'significant,' 'important,' 'contemporary,' or 'daring.' These are not, to my mind, good symptoms....Until quite recently--until the latter part of the last century--it was taken for granted that the business of the artist was to delight and instruct his public. There were, of course, different publics; the street-songs and the oratorios were not addressed to the same audience (though I think a good many people like both). And an artist might lead his public to appreciate finer things than they had wanted at first....All this has changed. In the highest aesthetic circles one now hears nothing about the artist's duty to us. It is all about our duties to him. He owes us nothing; we owe him 'recognition,' even though he has never paid the slightest attention to our tastes, interests, or habits. If we don't give it to him, our name is mud. In this shop, the customer is always wrong....

But though we have a duty to feed the hungry, I doubt whether we have a duty to 'appreciate' the ambitious. Many modern novels, poems, and pictures, which we are brow-beaten into 'appreciating,' are not good work because they are not work at all. They are mere puddles of spilled sensibility or reflection. When an artist is in the strictest sense working, he of course takes into account the existing taste, interests, and capacity of his audience. These, no less than the language, the marble, or the paint, are part of his raw material; to be used, tamed, sublimated, not ignored nor defied. Haughty indifference to them is not genius nor integrity; it is laziness and incompetence....The high-brow productions may, of course, reveal a finer sensibility and profounder thought. But a puddle is not a work, whatever rich wines or oils or medicine have gone into it."

C.S. Lewis, Good Work and Good Works

Actually, i don't have much to add to Lewis' critic here. It pretty much speaks for itself, and condemns the culture of the art-school, to say nothing of the popular music industry or of Hollywood. Some good (if not great) works may still be produced by all three. However, the great majority of it is mass-produced junk meant to either mindlessly entertain, or to subvert the tastes, customs, and traditions of the viewer (or other audience), often in the must cynical manner which the "artist" can must. Ironically enough, even this cynicism isn't very well-done.

The result is that, aside from trashing the preferences of the viewer, the "art" generally fails not only to instruct or enlighten, but even to entertain him. It's a very regular experience in which a song comes on the radio, and I here somebody exclaim, "Oh! I hate this song!" and then proceed to sing along to it, without regard to the morally debased and degrading lyrics (let alone the poorly played melody and ill-times beat). Today's cynic no longer wants to merely challenge the so-called "status quo": he's just as happy when his targets (who are not worthy of the title "audience") just dole out the money and the awards. If they won't do the latter, then the academy (of fellow artists) will have to step in with theirs. The artist no longer wants his targets to live "examined" (let alone "enlightened") lives; only that they "question authority," be it convention, tradition, or taste. The less informed those questions are, the better--for the mass-produced works of "art" are meant to illicit many questions, not good ones.

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If you enjoyed this post, here are some related ones:

Some Thoughts About Violence in Christian Fiction (Catholic America Today)
C.S. Lewis on the Importance of "Good Work" in "Good Works" (Quote of the Day)
C.S. Lewis on Apologetics (Quote of the Day)
The Idiocy of Iconoclasm
Rediscovering the Saints
Religion or Relationship
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Thursday, May 19, 2011

TMM: Speculation about Agustine and Birth Control

In the comments to my last short reflection, a reader by the name of Garett Jansen writes:
Speaking of Aquinas...when I ponder a particularly difficult issue, I often wonder as to how the great doctors would have responded. I imagine if somebody would have told Augustine, "hey, there's this pill and if women take it they won't get pregnant," [he] would have hailed it as a wonderful gift from above. Aquinas allowed for the abortion of a fetus that had not yet been "ensouled" (animatus), a process which I believe (at least according to Augustine) took place a few months after conception. On a side note, Thomist philosohper Charles de Konick also strove to get the Church to alter her position on birth control, although I utterly disagree with his grounds for doing so.

I already gave a short response to all of this in the comments section, but I think there is a little more to be said (and I have a little bit of time to say it). I will accept at face value his claims that he is pro-life, even if he rejects the particular argument which I was giving n that post. Some arguments are based in aesthetics, so that you either see them or you don't.

But after giving this qualification and rebuttal, he engages in a bit of speculation:  would Saint Augustine have embraced and recommended contraception--perhaps in the form of the pill--if it had been made available to him and the people of his time? Mr. Jansen believes that this is the case. If I was to limit myself merely to speculation, I would say that Mr Jansen is mistaking Saint Augustine's neo-Platonism for being really Platonic, that is, for being the philosophy of Plato without the being guided by the Church. It is probably true that Augustine the Manichean would have gladly urged the wide use of birth-control pills, if only as a remedy against giving birth; for Manicheans were not only keen on not giving birth, but on not indulging in what they would consider "carnal pleasures." These same Manicheans returned in the heresy of the Cathars, the Albigensians against whom Saint Dominic and Raymond of Toulouse each contended. It was the remnants of their philosophy which which Saint Thomas Aquinas would have to contend.

Augustine the Manichean may have approached very nearly to Plato's views about life--namely, that the body and the soul were distinct, and that the former is the prison of the latter. Thus, it might be fair enough to suggest that Augustine the heretic would promote contraception as a means to limiting the number of "imprisoned" souls. It would be equally fascinating to speculate with my friend Mr Nathanael Blake, that Plato himself was only looking for a Church. And to wonder how his views might have changed if he was born 600 years later, to see that the Church had indeed been founded.

As for Augustine, when we refer to him as a "great doctor" (of the Church), we are referring not to Augustine the Manichean but rather to Saint Augustine the Catholic. About his views concerning birth control, or for that matter, concerning the body and the soul, we need not speculate, because he has so kindly written them down for us. He notes rather early on in his City of God that the body is not a mere adornment or ornamentation (let alone a prison!) of the soul, but rather is just as much a part of the human person as is his soul. He writes rather strongly against the Manichean view of sex--namely, that it is worse when it causes a new life to be conceived--and then more explicitly, in his commentary, The Good Marriage, he says that*
"For necessary sexual intercourse for begetting [children] is alone worthy of marriage. But that which goes beyond this necessity no longer follows reason but lust. And yet it pertains to the character of marriage . . . to yield it to the partner lest by fornication the other sin damnably [through adultery]. . . . [T]hey [must] not turn away from them the mercy of God . . . by changing the natural use into that which is against nature, which is more damnable when it is done in the case of husband or wife. For, whereas that natural use, when it pass beyond the compact of marriage, that is, beyond the necessity of begetting [children], is pardonable in the case of a wife, damnable in the case of a harlot; that which is against nature is execrable when done in the case of a harlot, but more execrable in the case of a wife. Of so great power is the ordinance of the Creator, and the order of creation, that . . . when the man shall wish to use a body part of the wife not allowed for this purpose [orally or anally consummated sex], the wife is more shameful, if she suffer it to take place in her own case, than if in the case of another woman" (emphasis mine).

Moreover, in his Against Faustus (22:30), he states this much more concisely:

"For thus the eternal law, that is, the will of God creator of all creatures, taking counsel for the conservation of natural order, not to serve lust, but to see to the preservation of the race, permits the delight of mortal flesh to be released from the control of reason in copulation only to propagate progeny" (emphasis mine).

It should be plenty clear that whatever Augustine the Manichean may have thought about contraception, St Augustine the Christian abhored it. It is Saint Augustine the Catholic, and not the Old Augustine the Manichean, who can be considered a Doctor of the Church.

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*Quoted from the Catholic Answers website, which contains a number of other quotes from the Church Fathers about contraception and sterilization.
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On Saint Thomas Aquinas, it is true that he did believe (and we may fairly speculate that this is due to the limited embryology of his day) that the unborn child is only ensouled after 40 days (boys) or 80 days (girls). This he based on the writings of Aristotle. But he also noted that abortion was a violation of the natural law, and so did not condone it, calling it gravely wrong (source: last question on this page).

As to Mr Jansen's aside about the Thomist Charles de Konick--mentor to the late Ralph McInerny--it is worth noting that de Konick passed away in 1965, which is three years before the release of Pope Paul VI's encyclical Humanae Vitae. Professor Peter Redpath, reviewing McInerny's interpretation of Jacques Maritain--another, more well-known Thomist who similarly passed away before the release of Humanae Vitae--writes that
Despite Maritain’s acceptance in this correspondence of some forms of artificial birth control, McInerny claims that, based upon Maritain’s clear loyalty to the Magisterium during the condemnation of Action Française, we can predict that his response to Pope Paul VI’s encyclical Humanae Vitae would have been one of “total acceptance”...While he would spend time working on his journal about his wife and immerse himself in liturgical matters and theoretical theological studies in preparation for his death, dissemination of what McInerny rightly calls “the most controversial book he had ever published” (p. 202) lends credibility to McInerny’s interpretation of Maritain’s loyalty to the Magisterium on the question of artificial birth control. I have little doubt that some Catholic intellectuals will be irritated by McInerny prediction about Maritain’s loyalty to the Magisterium on this issue. They will also likely take issue with him about the influence of Fr. Clérissac on him, and matters related to Gide and Cocteau. Still, he has sound reasons to make his claims.

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If you like this post and want to read more, here are some related posts:

The Sanitary, Sterilized Life
Saint Augustine on Abortion (Quote of the Day)
Chesterton on Birth Control (Quote of the Day)
My review of Love and Responsibility
My Review of Three to Get Married (Nicene Guys)
Contraception and Discernment (Nicene Guys)

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Nicene Guys Feed: The Poor vs The Poor in Spirit

My latest post is now up. It's a reflection inspired by a passage from The City of God. Also, welcome to our latest writer, Nathan K, whose inaugural post--about Tolkien, Sub-creation, and aesthetics--can be read here. An excerpt from my post follows.


"But there were some who were tortured [in an attempt to get at their riches] even though they possessed nothing to surrender. They were tortured because they were not believed. Perhaps they desired possessions, and were not voluntarily poor through holiness" (City of God, Book 1; page 19 in the Penguin Classics edition).

In Book 1 of City of God, St Augustine answers a variety of charges against the Christian religion in the fallout after the Visigoths under Aleric sacked Rome. He also attempted to give comfort to those Christians who suffered the deprivation of life, dignity, or property during this invasion. In the course of doing this, he mentions that those who were tortured were only tortured because they attempted to hold onto their worldly possessions: they were tortured because they would not reveal where they had hidden their riches.

The lesson which he draws from this is that it truly is best to store up our treasures in heaven, "where thieves do not break through, nor steal" (Matthew 6:20). Had these people who were tortured done that, they not only would not have avoided the tortures of their captors, but would have kept their treasures to boot. As St Augustine notes time and again in Book 1, the way to lose the heavenly treasures is through sin--but this requires the consent of the sinner, that is, an act of the will on his part to go along with the sin (see also the Catechism of the Catholic Church paragraph 1859).

Read the rest at the Nicene Guys site.

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If you enjoyed this post, here are some related ones:

Homogeneity in Heaven and Hell
Does Hell Matter?
Enchiridion on Faith, Hope, and Charity: A Short Review
Saint Augustine on Abortion (Quote of the Day)
Speculation about Augustine and Birth Control (Thirty Minute Musings)
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Or return to Equus Nom Veritas Home.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Chesterton on Birth Control

"The friars had reached a turn in the road by a wayside fountain, a little way north of Rome, when they were overtaken by a wild cavalcade of captors, who seized on Thomas [Aquinas] like brigands, but who were in fact only rather needlessly agitated brothers. He had a large number of brothers: perhaps only two were here involved. Indeed he was the seventh; and friends of Birth Control may lament that this philosopher was needlessly added to the noble line of ruffians who kidnapped him."
G.K. Chesterton, Saint Thomas Aquinas

I think if Chesterton is ever canonized, he ought to be made patron saint not only of common sense and those who lack it, but also of divergent thinkers and people who have ADD. Now, where was I? Right, birth control. Saint Thomas was the sixth (or seventh) brother of his family--and he had sisters to boot. His Dominican sister Saint Catherine of Siena was, if I am not mistaken, the twenty third/fourth child in her family (along with her twin sister Giovanna); Saint Therese of Lisieux was the ninth child in her family. Am I trying to say that all saints come from large families? No, though there are quite a few who did. Rather, I am noting--along with Chesterton--that many a soul who was denied existence thanks to birth control  is the soul of a saint, a thinker, a creator, or a poet.
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Update: Ms Jennifer Fulwiler has a post along these lines now up at the National Catholic Register's site.
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If you like this post and want to read more, here are some related posts:
Love or Power
Speculation About Saint Augustine and Birth Control (Thirty Minute Musing)
Abstinence Only and the Technical Solution
Saint Augustine on Abortion (Quote of the Day)
My review of Love and Responsibility
My Review of Three to Get Married (Nicene Guys)
Contraception and Discernment (Nicene Guys)

Friday, May 13, 2011

A Short Review of "The Third Testament"

"About a month ago, a reader--Mr John Eklund--contacted me an asked if I would be interested in reviewing a copy of his book, The Third Testament. He briefly described the book to me as “It is a strongly pro-Catholic novel about a troubled college history professor who sets out to write the next testament of the Bible.” Now, I’ll admit that I had some reservations at first: the idea of adding another Testament to the bible seemed dubious to me, even if it was meant as merely an element of fiction. Pro-Catholic or no, I was a little hesitant to try this one. However, I decided to go ahead and agree to the review: and I’m actually quite glad that I did.

The book itself is indeed about a Catholic college professor who is asked via his dreams to begin writing down a Third Testament to the Bible. This Third Testament was to be the story of God’s people after the death of the apostles (well, actually it includes the martyrdom of the apostles). If the Old Testament is the story of the Israelites--and of Man’s Fall and the promises and prophesies of his redemption--and if the New Testament is the story of Christ and the establishment of His Church--the fulfillment of these prophesies and promises--then the Third Testament was to be the story of the Church after the apostles, and of the spreading of that promise throughout the world. Fred Sankt--the main protagonist of the novel--muses about this challenge presented to him:
The last readings were from two thousand years ago. Has nothing important happened in two thousand years....Certainly, there has not been anything as monumental as the coming of Christ, but the Old Testament doesn’t have anything that monumental either....Was the story of God’s people in the last two thousand years any less important than the story of his people in the two thousand years preceding the coming of Christ?

Of course, to be a prophet of God carries a price, a sort of burden against sin and temptation. Sankt learns this when he is faced with a lawsuit from an accident he was involved in two years prior to the story. The suit is an aggressive one which seeks to take away all of his personal assets--his house, his savings, and so on--for a simple automobile accident. Actually, the way in which all of the lawyers are treated in the novel makes me wonder if Mr (Dr?) Eklund has a grudge against the profession--one with which more than a few people can sympathize.

Sankt’s troubles with the lawsuit are not the most significant of his problems as the novel unfolds. It is revealed that his wife dies of melanoma before the setting of the novel; thus, it is with great horror that Sankt learns that his only daughter has also been diagnosed with the dread cancer. As if the lawsuit itself is not bad enough, now he is forced to watch his daughter suffer the slow death which cancer brings. The temptation to give in to despair, or to feel anger against a God Who would permit so much unjustice (on the one hand) and suffering (on the other) very nearly overwhelms Sankt; though he finds some consolation in his writing. Actually, this temptation to doubt and despair comes to a climax when Sankt joins his closest friend at the bar to relax and help take his mind off of his (and his daughter’s) troubles:
At about the same time I was breaking down, four men at the table behind us broke out in loud laughter. At first, I was too caught up in my own pain to take notice, but then they became quite boisterous. I couldn’t tell exactly what they were laughing about, but I did catch part of a crude comment. Jerry turned around to face them, but when he did, something clearly startled him--he looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

“What is it?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

Jerry just shook his head, unable to answer, but I knew there was something not right about the raucous men. They definitely were not choir boys.

“Are those men crooks?” I whispered.

At that moment, we overheard the men exchange several perverted remarks, followed by more boisterous laughter.

“Do you see the man in the black leather jacket?” Jerry asked. “The one with the loudest laugh?”

I carefully took a closer look at the large man in black. “I see him.”

“That man is Sylvester Jones [the plaintiff in the lawsuit].”

Before the word even left Jerry’s lips, I had figured it out for myself. At first I hadn’t recognized him because his back was to me, but then it became clear. The bald head with curly black hair on the sides and back, pulled into a short ponytail; the neck as thick as a tree stump; the gigantic torso--it was without a doubt Sylvester Jones.

For a moment I did nothing but stare at him. His enormous frame shook violently with each bout of laughter.

Seeing my accuser there, in such good spirits, was surreal. I felt numb inside. There was no other way for me to feel--I was too depressed to be angry and too exhausted to feel self-pity.

As I sat there, speechless, another perverted remark poured forth from Jones’ lips, this one about their waitress. It was followed by still more laughter....I could still hear Sylvester Jones happily laughing as we walked out the door.
This suffering is not ultimately without purpose, as it has a profound effect not only on Fred Sankt but also on his friend Jerry, a lapsed Catholic.

Seeking consolation in his task, Sankt perseveres in writing his Third Testament. For its part, Sankt’s (and thus, Eklund’s) Third Testament reads as part history, part theology, and part prophesy. He chooses just the right amount of biographical detail concerning the saints and sinners depicted to make the Testament entertaining as a story; and just the right amount of their actual words (written or spoken and remembered) to be edifying to his Catholic readers. There are stories of conversions, or miracles, of maniacal monsters such as Nero and Domitian and Frederick II and Hitler and Stalin; of prophesies, mostly from the appearances of Our Lady, but also through non-Christian sources such as Nostradamus (portrayed as a sort of puppet of the Devil). There are saints--many, many saints—and of course there are sinners. The whole Testament comes together in a way which engages the mind, not only through reason but through imagination.

However, Eklund’s book is not without its flaws. His writing style seems to improve throughout the work, which unfortunately also means that the writing early on isn’t as good as the writing in the rest of the book. And while most of the stories and excerpts which were included in the Testament were pretty good (I especially enjoyed the Tale of Thor’s Tree, and his own Parable of the Humble Servant), there were also some selections which were not so good. After all, if this is supposed to be a Third Testament, the events, stories, and texts which it contains ought to be divinely inspired. I especially found the “Psalms” analog to be lacking, both in some of the selection (at least in Sankt’s draft) and some of the texts left out: “On Eagles’ Wings,” the works of John Newton (some of which are good), and “Be Not Afraid” in--but “Adoro Te Devote,” (or the hymns of Saint Thomas Aquinas in general)* “Te Deum,” “Lead Kindly Light,” “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silent” out? To be fair, this is using the list from the “rough draft” version in the story. Nor would I quite rank Billy Graham with John Paul II and Mother Teresa of Calcutta. I also note a few crucial omissions on the “Devil’s Minions” list: Nietzche, Sanger, and Julian the Apostate jump immediately to mind. Perhaps this is only because this particular list is meant as a rough draft--but then again, most of these remain in the final list, too (though Julian, at least, is discussed at some point).

To be fair, these particular flaws tend to be few and far between. The book is overall very enjoyable, and the stories collected therein are both uplifting and edifying, especially to Catholic readers. At times it is reminiscent of the Golden Legend of Jacobus de Voragine, or of Warren C Carroll’s history of Christendom. I would recommend this book to my Catholic readers, and even to some of my Protestant readers. It certainly includes a number of points of Catholic history, culture, and even (perhaps) legend which are too often lacking in Catholic households, schools, and indeed parishes today.
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*Although he does include Saint Thomas Aquinas "Pange Lingua", which is perhaps better known because the last two stanzas--the "Tantum Ergo"--are traditionally used during Benedictions.

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If you like this post and want to read more, here are some related posts:
The Death of a Pope (Book Review)
Review of By What Authority?
A Sort of Review of Chesterton's Heretics
A Review of Walter M Miller's "A Canticle for Leibowitz" (Nicene Guys)
The Line Through the Heart (Book Review)
What We Can't Not Know (Book Review)
The Revenge of Conscience (Book Review)
Love and Responsibility (Book Review)
Truth and Tolerance:  A Review
The Gargoyle Code:  A Short Review
The Gargoyle Code: A More Substantive Review
The Wizard Knight:  A Sort of Review
Enchiridon on Faith, Hope, and Charity:  A Short Review
A Halfway-Review of The Faith of Our Fathers (Book Review)
The End of Faith: Religion, Terror, and the Future of Reason (Book Review)
Disorientation: A Review in Four Parts (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4)
Jesus of Nazareth:  a Review
Review of The Meaning of Tradition
The Clash of Orthodoxies:  A Review
My review of The Limits of a Limitless Science and Other Essays (Nicene Guys)
My review of Three to Get Married (Nicene Guys)

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Quote of the Day: Chesterton on Saints

"Every saint is a sort of man before he is a saint; and a saint may be made of every sort or kind of man; and most of us will choose between these different types according to our different tastes....The Saint is a medicine because he as an antidote. Indeed, that is why the saint is often a martyr; he is mistaken for a poison because he is an antidote. He will generally be found restoring the world to sanity by exaggerating whatever the world neglects, which is by no means the same element in every age. Yet each generation seeks its saint by instinct; and he is not what the people want, but rather what the people need."
G.K. Chesterton, Saint Thomas Aquinas.

The recent (and relatively rapid) beatification of our late great pope has raised a few concerns. There are the unjust concerns, rarely voiced aloud, that this process has been too swift, and that Blessed John Paul II really wasn't that holy. Rubbish! There are also more fair-minded concerns, voiced by people who knew the late pontiff. His biographer, Dr George Weigel, has such concerns of this more just variety, though his concern is not that the canonization process is proceeding too quickly:
Strange as it may seem, I’ve been vaguely worried about the beatification on May 1 of a man with whom I was in close conversation for over a decade and to the writing of whose biography I dedicated 15 years of my own life.

My worries don’t have to do with allegations of a “rushed” beatification process; the process has been a thorough one, and the official judgment is the same as the judgment of the people of the Church. I’m also unconcerned about the fretting of ultra-traditionalists for whom John Paul II was a failure because he didn’t restore the French monarchy, impose the Tridentine Mass on the entire Church, and issue thundering anathemas against theologians and wayward politicians. No, my worries have to do with our losing touch with the qualities of the man. When the Church puts the title “Blessed” or “Saint” on someone, the person so honored often drifts away into a realm of the unapproachably good. We lose the sense that the saints are people just like us, who, by the grace of God, lived lives of heroic virtue: a truth of the faith of which John Paul II never ceased to remind us.

The lesson of both Chesterton Blessed John Paul II is that saints are ordinary men and women who have responded in an extraordinary way to God's grace. True to Chesterton's remark, both men were also "antidotes" of sorts, antidotes against the climate of thought of their respective times.

Blessed John Paul the Great lived through the Nazi occupation of Poland, and then through the equally disastrous communist occupation. He would go on to be a member of the "Holy Alliance" which included Reagan and Thatcher and which at long last saw the fall of communist Russia, much to the joy of the various "eastern bloc" countries which were held under that regime's power. He moreover reigned during the time of the sexual revolution, a crisis which spread throughout Christendom (and indeed beyond). He responded with the Theology of the Body, which is truly an intellectual treasure of the Church.

Chesterton, meanwhile, lived in a time and place in which not only God and the Church were being questioned, but also what wisdom was possessed by the human race--wisdom preserved in tradition, custom, passed on by prescription, but also that which is known on a deeper level by man, as if by instinct. He responded by becoming what Mr Dale Alquist called "The Apostle of Common Sense." The theories of Marx, Nietzche, or Darwin (and more importantly of Huxley) had taken root in the minds of the intelligentsia both in England and on the continent, not to mention in the Americas. The consequences of these teaching would not really be known during Chesterton's life--Lenin's revolution (Marxism) had succeeded in plunging Russia into Communism, but Stalin had not yet extended this over Europe, and while Hitler (Nietzche's Overman) had come to power in Germany, he had not yet rebuilt the war machines nor death camps which would make his Reich so infamous. The death camps and genocides of the twentieth century had not yet come to pass, nor had the outright attempted culling of the undesirable populations (Darwin/Huxley), though Sanger was agitating for that in America whilst Hitler did the same in Germany, and there were plenty of people in Britain willing to aide the process. These were dark times for the Church, which was being persecuted by Communist and Nazi alike; and, as so often is the case, the dark times for the Church were similarly dark times for mankind.

Chesterton was a seer, a prophet. He foresaw the disasters which awaited men if they would embrace these theories. The anthropology which turns a man into an advanced sort of monkey would also very quickly suggest that he was really no more than a monkey, a mere animal. As such, he ought to be treated as a animal, that is, to be treated as if he had no inherent dignity, no rights. The common man had nothing to teach his "betters" in the intellectual circles, and they could, of course, try to mold him and shape him according to their whims, be it through propaganda or through more direct methods such as birth control, sterilization, selective breeding programs, or (eventually) through the murder and torture of abortion, the concentration camps and gulags, the gas chambers, the genocides which have plagued the last 75 years or so of human history.

Against this false view of humanity we had the two views of humanity given by Chesteron and John Paul. The former would note that even the common man had a great deal of common sense, and that because he had common sense he would retain his sanity. The intellectuals of his time often lost theirs, if not in the overt sense of the madhouse, then in the more diabolical sense which would ultimately lead up to the monsters of the last century, from Hitler and Himmler to Lenin, Stalin, and Pol Pot. Of the intellectuals who enabled these monsters, Chesterton would write that they were madmen not because they had lost their reasoning, but rather because they had lost everything else. This began with a rejection of revelation, and it continued with a rejection of common sense; that is, first they denied the doctrine that God exists, and then they denied the doctrine that Man exists.

As for our late pope, he recognized that the common man had a bit of common dignity, which trait is lacking in the animals. He noted that man was created "in the image and likeness of God," and so he worked tirelessly to promote the dignity of man, most especially through his teachings concerning the Theology of the Body. Recalling that in the beginning, after God had completed His creation, "He saw that it was good," the pope would go on to teach that a part of this creation was man, and not merely man's spirit but indeed his body. This was no mere adornment or ornament "worn" by man, but indeed was an integral part of him. To paraphrase Christopher West, one of the great popularizers of the pope's teaching, we are our bodies.

As such, our bodies are also deserving of some dignity, in particular as regards the act in which two persons come together and "become one" in the flesh. While Hugh Heffner and his colleagues (or rivals) were promoting the degradation of sex and sexuality in revolution against the prudery of the Victorians--which still had a hold on much of society, albeit a weakening one--John Paul led a different kind of sexual revolution. The prudes rejected the body, saying that is was a filthy thing, and therefore treated sex as an unholy act of lust which was made less sinful when committed inside of a marriage. Heffner changed this by saying, in essence, that since the body is a filthy thing, therefore committing filthy acts would not stain it further, so there was no point to restricting these acts to marriage. John Paul similarly rejected the prudish understanding of the body and sexual morality, but he did so at the very source by challenging their very rejection of the body. "He saw that it was good": the body is not inherently filthy, but rather is good, and so sex is not a dirty little act which can be sanctified only through marriage; rather, it is a sacred and holy thing, for which we must prepare ourselves and our fallen natures through the sacrament of marriage.

Both of these men-Chesterton and John Paul--were visionaries of sorts, and yet both began as ordinary men. But they then recognized something, namely that ordinary men are themselves not mundane but rather miracles. Both ultimately went on to defend the dignity of their fellow "ordinary men," the former in the mind and the latter in the body. Both could be said to have spent theirs lives "exaggerating what the world needs," and thus both were antidotes to some of the ideologies of the world in which they lived.
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Ironically enough, G.K. Chesterton--prophet that he was--is still not "saint", "blessed," or even just "venerable." That there is no cause underway for his canonization is a true travesty.

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If you enjoyed this post, here are some related ones:

Vocations and Graces
Saint Thomas Aquinas: A Reflection (Nicene Guys)
A Sort-of Review of Chesterton's Heretics (Book Review)
Chesterton on Christianity and Asceticism
Chesterton on Birth Control
Vocations and Sanctity (Thirty Minute Musings)
Love and Responsibility (book review)
The Idiocy of Modern Man
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Friday, May 06, 2011

Sed Audito Solo Tuto Creditur

Taste, and touch, and vision, to discern Thee fail;
Faith, that comes by hearing, pierces through the veil.
I believe whatever the Son of God hath told;
What the Truth hath spoken, that for truth I hold.

So might be translated a portion of a prayer by Saint Thomas Aquinas. It is a sort of act of faith, contained within a larger prayer, and it expresses nicely how faith must be found today. We were not there to meet Christ in person, nor to meet His apostles, nor hear any of their words as spoken. Rather, we must rely on what we have been told by the witnesses who were there, and those who recorded what they saw. This is ultimately the link which we can share with the past: what was seen and heard and felt by the witnesses who observed--indeed, who were a part of--the events from this past?

We can choose to believe the witnesses, or we can choose to reject their testimony. This latter option means fabricating our own from conjecture, hearsay, hypothesis, or the like. Faced with these two options, a great many people pick a third option: that of Pilate, who instead preferred to simply wash his hands of Truth. Yet this act of washing would not make those hands any cleaner if the witnesses were right, nor would they be any less so if the accusers held sway.
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