I found great beauty and comfort in this quote this morning:

“Take note of this, for it is a certain truth: we do not pray in vain for those who are lost, even if they are our enemies. Yes, we do not pray in vain – even though everything seems to be hopeless. If we are truly concerned for their salvation and bring them before the Savior, he will bring them under his special care, so that – perhaps before we are even aware of it – miracles can happen, even among those whom we had already given up for lost.”

– Johann Christoph Blumhardt, Vom Glauben bis ans Ende

I found Edward Hahnenberg’s analysis of the contrast and balance between clergy and laity in Chapter 1 of his Ministries: A Relational Approach to be fascinating and intriguing in the context of the re-introduction of the permanent diaconate in the wake of Vatican II.  Hahnenberg outlines the tension between clergy and laity and the start of a “theology of the laity” coming out of Vatican II, and explored new models that evolved out of the council, like Yves Congar’s concept of “ministries of service / community.”  As a deacon aspirant, it was interesting to consider yet again how the deacon sits “between” the clergy and the laity, or in a spot that others have referred to as a “seam” or a “bridge.”  I find myself reflecting again on the opportunity for the deacon, formally part of the clergy and sacramentally ordained but also living a life within and among the laity, to truly bridge this perceived gap.

Perhaps this is part of the wisdom of the Second Vatican Council that is yet to be fully understood – precisely into the empowerment of the laity and calling them to fully live out their life as Baptized Christians, “priests, prophets, and kings”, in a very real sense is planted the diaconate.  The order of the diaconate bridges the life of the lay person with the life and sacramental orders of the clergy.  For someone aspiring to orders as a deacon, what might this mean?  I believe that this means fully taking part in the proper clerical role of a deacon, while at the same time maintaining a life that otherwise is that of a faithful Catholic lay person. While being present in the ministries of sacrament and word in a liturgical sense, a deacon also sends the laity forth at the end of Mass, and then truly leads them forth, first among them, back to his home, his workplace, and the streets, parks, and secular places that need the light of Christ. Without “taking over” opportunities for the laity to serve in new and creative ways, the deacon in fact both sets an example and becomes a facilitator of the participation of the laity in their calling.  In this way, he “represents” them and their daily sacrifices at the altar, and he also leads by example in how to take the Word and make it present in the everyday culture and life in the secular world. In this sense, I don’t see the tension outlined by Hahnenberg being as present in a Church in which the diaconate has come back into its full nature and become the “bridge” closing the gap between clergy and laity.  In my own reflection, I see the deacon as playing a critical role in a truly “new theology of ministry.”

Submitted December 9, 2017, for assignment 3 of the course “Church History”, Instructor: Deacon Patrick J. Donahue, D. Min..

Of the four Constitutions resulting from the Second Vatican Council, Sacrosanctum concilium, the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, was the first discussed and approved, and it was promulgated by Pope Paul VI on December 4, 1963, a year after the council opened.[note]Rigali, Cardinal Justin, Reliving Vatican II: It’s All About Jesus Christ (Chicago: Liturgical Training Publications, 2006), 13.[/note]  This Constitution had significant effects and led to a stark reform of the liturgy in the years just after the council, and it continues to impact the Church’s liturgy today. However, some of the ideas found in the document are still being addressed or contradicted in practice in many places today.  Liturgy remains one of the most controversial areas of reform in the years following the council.  On one side are those who advocate “the spirit of the council,” seeking to interpret the intent of the council fathers and enact liturgical changes in line with that interpretation. On the other hand, others favor a stricter interpretation of the council documents and more rigid adherence to tradition while still enacting the reforms for which the council called.

The debate over the liturgy seems to be at fever pitch today on blogs and in parish meeting rooms.  In an article relaying events of a Jesuit liturgical conference in Rome in June 2002, Cardinal Godfried Danneels of Belgium was quoted summarizing the issue, “If Catholic worship before the council suffered from exaggerated ‘discipline and obedience,’… today in the rush to develop ever more creative liturgies, the ‘sense of mystery’ may get lost.”[note]Allen, John L. 2002, “Vatican policies, inculturation dominate Jesuit talks on liturgy,” National Catholic Reporter 38, no. 33: 7, ATLA Catholic Periodical and Literature Index, EBSCOhost (accessed November 25, 2017).[/note]  However, this debate is not a new area of discussion and divide. Five short years after the council, the Sacred Congregation for Divine Worship’s Liturgicae Instaurationes detailed the challenge of the day, and it sounds like something right out of today’s discussion:

 “there have been here and there both resistance and impatience. In the cause of holding on to the old tradition, some have received the changes grudgingly. Alleging pastoral needs, others became convinced that they could not wait for promulgation of the definitive reforms. In consequence, they have resorted to personal innovations, to hasty, often ill-advised measures, to new creations and additions or to the simplification of rites. All of this has frequently conflicted with the most basic liturgical norms and upset the consciences of the faithful”[note]Sacred Congregation for Divine Worship, Instruction on the orderly carrying out of the Constitution on the Liturgy Liturgicae Instaurationes (September 5, 1970), paragraph 4, EWTN, accessed November 26, 2017, https://www.ewtn.com/library/CURIA/CDWLITUR.HTM.[/note]

From the days just after Pope Paul VI promulgated Sacrosanctum concilium, its effects have been broad and far-reaching, but still haven’t been completely on target.

One might ask what the council fathers intended as a result of Sacrosanctum concilium.  A strict reading of the outline of the document provides a handful of intended principles. First, the council pointed out “the nature of the sacred liturgy and its importance in the Church’s life.”[note]Second Vatican Council, Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy Sacrosanctum concilium (4 November 1963), Chapter 1, Section 1, The Holy See, accessed November 26, 2017, http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vat-ii_const_19631204_sacrosanctum-concilium_en.html.[/note]  Then it called for the “fully conscious, and active participation… by the Christian people, as… their right and duty by reason of their baptism,” the proper training of the clergy in liturgy, and “the liturgical instruction of the faithful.”[note]Ibid., Chapter 1, Section 2.[/note]  Next it called for “a general restoration of the liturgy itself, [in which]… both texts and rites should be drawn up so that they express more clearly the holy things which they signify,” which reiterates the Church’s authority to regulate the liturgy, and permits “no other person, even if he be a priest… add, remove, or change anything in the liturgy on his own authority,” and stressed the role each person plays based upon their rank or office. It also called for more reading of scripture within the liturgy, the proper placement of preaching, and for adapting the liturgy to the language, cultures, and traditions of peoples.[note]Ibid., Chapter 1, Section 3.[/note]

In addition, Chapter II of the Constitution covered more intended changes specific to the Mass, including parts of the Mass to receive new emphasis (the homily, the Prayers of the Faithful), and expanded permission for concelebration.[note]Ibid., Chapter 2.[/note] Chapter III-V covered changes to other Sacraments and sacramentals and renewing the structure of the liturgical year.  Finally, Chapters VI and VII covered music and art, calling for liturgy “celebrated solemnly in song, with the assistance of sacred ministers and the active participation of the people,” giving Gregorian chant pride of place.  But it also permitted other types of liturgical music, allowing for adaptation to local musical traditions and customs.  The pipe organ was given “high esteem,” but the admission of other instruments was permitted, “on condition that the instruments are suitable, or can be made suitable, for sacred use.”  They called for composers and other artisans to bring their skill and talent to the renewal of the liturgy, contributing “art which is truly sacred… [striving] after noble beauty rather than mere sumptuous display.”[note]Ibid., Chapter 5-6.[/note]

Which of these changes have happened?  The “ordinary form” of the Mass, the Novus Ordo Missal first promulgated in 1969 and its subsequent revisions, have accomplished the renewal of the liturgy itself, restructured the liturgical year, and made room for more reading of scripture within the liturgy. In addition, it has given elements like the homily and Prayers of the Faithful their proper place, and allowed for concelebration. There seems to be a better sense of the nature of the sacred liturgy and its importance in the Church’s life.  The faithful now take a more conscious, active participatory role in the liturgy in many places.  National Directories for formation of priests and deacons call for the proper training of the clergy in liturgy (a structure begun with the Council of Trent).  Moreover, in many places, the liturgy is celebrated well and with good music and art that are truly sacred and strive for noble beauty.

On the other hand, the liturgical instruction of the faithful could be improved, and perhaps deeper liturgical instruction is what some of the “missing faithful” might need to better appreciate the liturgy.  Furthermore, the liberty that some clergy take in adding to the rite could be tempered in the spirit of the council’s desire that “no other person, even if he be a priest… add, remove, or change anything in the liturgy on his own authority.”  In the Church in America, music has been an area of diversity and strength, but re-balancing the use of Gregorian chant to give it its “pride of place” would be one way to further align with the desires of the council.

Another area of consideration as it relates to the intent of the council fathers is that of adaptation in other (particularly non-Western) parts of the world.  To understand the gravity of the need for adapting the liturgy in other cultures, one might reflect on the reaction of Cardinal Joseph Malula of Kinshasa in the Congo, to the liturgy when Pope John Paul II became Pope.  He stated, “All that imperial paraphernalia…  All that medieval remoteness and inheritance that makes Europeans think that the Church is only Western.  All that tightness that makes them fail to understand that young countries like mine want something different, they want simplicity.  They want Jesus Christ.  All that, all that must change.”[note]”A ‘Foreign’ Pope,” Time Magazine, (October 30, 1978), quoted in Francis, Mark R. “Liturgy and Inculturation since Vatican II: Where Are We? What Have We Learned?.” Worship 91, no. 1 (January 2017): 33, ATLA Religion Database with ATLASerials, EBSCOhost (accessed November 25, 2017).[/note]  The spirit of Cardinal Mulala’s reaction can be seen within paragraphs 37 and 38 of Sacrosanctum concilium:

“Even in the liturgy, the Church has no wish to impose a rigid uniformity in matters which do not implicate the faith or the good of the whole community; rather does she respect and foster the genius and talents of the various races and peoples. Anything in these peoples’ way of life which is not indissolubly bound up with superstition and error she studies with sympathy and, if possible, preserves intact. Sometimes in fact she admits such things into the liturgy itself, so long as they harmonize with its true and authentic spirit. Provisions shall also be made, when revising the liturgical books, for legitimate variations and adaptations to different groups, regions, and peoples, especially in mission lands, provided that the substantial unity of the Roman rite is preserved; and this should be borne in mind when drawing up the rites and devising rubrics.”[note]Sacrosanctum concilium, 37-38.[/note]

In Liturgy and Inculturation since Vatican II, Where Are We? What Have We Learned?, Mark R. Francis, CSV points out how the Roman Missal for the Dioceses of Zaire, one of the first attempts at inculturation of the Roman liturgy in Africa, has elements that flow directly from African culture while still being patterned on the structure of the Roman Rite. Among these are the invocation of saints and ancestors at the start of the liturgy, the placement of the penitential rite just before the sign of peace and preparation of gifts, the use of dance, an “announcer” calling the assembly to worship paralleling a servant announcing the arrival of a chief.[note]Francis, Mark R. “Liturgy and Inculturation since Vatican II: Where Are We? What Have We Learned?.” Worship 91, no. 1 (January 2017): 33-34, ATLA Religion Database with ATLASerials, EBSCOhost (accessed November 25, 2017).[/note]

Turning to India, Francis writes of a proposed outline endorsed by the Indian bishops and approved by Rome that is “…known as the ‘Twelve Points of Liturgical Adaptation’ and opened the door to particularly Indian liturgical gestures and other symbols. Among the Indian cultural practices permitted in the Eucharist were semi-prostration instead of genuflection, an Indian style of incensing, offerings of flowers and fruits, and the use of Indian musical instruments.”[note]Ibid, 36.[/note]

A tidal wave of change hit the Church after the Second Vatican Council.  Some of the biggest waves hit upon the liturgy, the first area touched by the council.  The liturgy is “the outstanding means whereby the faithful may express in their lives, and manifest to others, the mystery of Christ and the real nature of the true Church.”[note]Sacrosanctum concilium, 2.[/note]  It is precisely the liturgy that needed to undergo change to bring the faith into the modern world.  The council fathers, however, seemed to indicate a desire for change balanced with tradition.  Some of the liturgical wishes of the council fathers remain outstanding and some have been addressed differently than imagined.  Still, the Church seeks to bring the true “spirit of the council,” a true encounter between the Church and modernity, into reality in a balanced way, to get the Rite right, as the council fathers intended.

Submitted December 2, 2017, for assignment 2 of the course “Church History”, Instructor: Deacon Patrick J. Donahue, D. Min..

At one of the Masses last weekend in my home parish (the parish in which I’m also currently assigned), it was a pleasure to be assisting as an altar server as we received a new member – an already-baptized Christian – into full Communion of the Catholic Church. It was a special moment for me, because the woman who came into Communion of the Church is a fellow parent at our kids’ school, and is the wife of one of my old grade school classmates.

One of our friends from the parish asked a question on Facebook earlier, and I thought it would be helpful to answer it here for posterity. He asks, “At the 4 PM Mass there was an adult Baptism. Father did not pour water on the head of the person being baptized. My question is why.”

I’ll refer to the woman who was received into the Church here as “Catherine,” since that was the name that she took as her patron.

First, I’ll clarify that what happened at Mass was not a baptism. Because Catherine had already been baptized into a Christian church whose baptism we acknowledge as valid, she can’t be (and doesn’t need to be) baptized again. As the Church came to understand through the Second Vatican Council, she was already a member of the Church, the Body of Christ, by virtue of her Baptism, even if she wasn’t in communion with the Church from a “juridical” standpoint. After all, as we profess in the Nicene Creed, we “confess one Baptism for the forgiveness of sins.” (See: Catechism of the Catholic Church paragraph 1246, and Code of Canon Law Canon 864) Since we recognize her Baptism as valid, nothing new would be gained by receiving the sacrament a second time, and it would be inappropriate to “baptize” her a second time.

What happened at Mass on Saturday is from the instruction on the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults (RCIA), Reception of Baptised Christians into the Full Communion of the Catholic Church (see section 5, starting on page 41 of the linked PDF): “This is the liturgical rite by which a person born and baptized in a separated ecclesial Community is received, according to the Latin rite, into the full communion of the Catholic Church. The rite is so arranged that no greater burden than necessary (see Acts 15:28) is required for the establishment of communion and unity.”

Since she was already a baptized Christian, and had been catechized and active in her Christian faith through her life, she simply underwent a catechetical program customized to her needs in order to be ready to be received into the Church, made a confession of sins privately beforehand, and then made a profession of faith within the context of the rite within the Mass. In this case, she was then Confirmed and joined the community in reception of the Holy Eucharist.

The ritual moment is described quite simply by Joseph Marrotta in his 2008 paper, “The Reception of the Previously Baptized into the Full Communion of the Catholic Church“:

“The actual ritual used to receive someone previously baptized into the Full Communion of the Church is simple. The preferred form takes place within the Eucharistic liturgy. After the entire group of faithful (not just those to be received) make a profession of faith (either the Nicene Creed or a renewal of baptismal promises), the celebrant asks the candidate or candidates to affirm that they “believe and profess all that the holy Catholic Church believes, teaches and proclaims to be revealed by God.” (RCIA, 491) The priest or bishop then proclaims that the person has been received into the full communion of the Church. Many are surprised at the simplicity of the ritual.”

Marrotta continues:

“Viewed from the perspective of article 14 of Lumen Gentium, however, this rite makes perfect sense. A community of believers gathers. The presumption is that all are in a state of grace, each having celebrated the sacrament of reconciliation if necessary. They profess their faith; calling to mind the baptism that each has already received. To this point, the rite is a celebration of the full theological communion that already exists. Then, the candidates are asked to assent to the teaching authority of the Magisterium. By doing so, they are received into the juridical communion necessary for full communion to exist. Later in the celebration, all receive the sacrament that recognizes and nourishes the full communion of the Church – Holy Eucharist.”

It was a joy – a simple joy, at that – to receive Catherine, already baptized, into full Communion of the Church at Mass on Saturday evening. We join in prayer with and for her and all Christians.

One might recall the childhood activity of folding one’s hands, fingers pointing inward through the knuckles, then rotating one’s hands open and waving the fingers around, saying, “Here is the Church. Here is the steeple. Open the doors, and see all the people.”  This child’s activity can call to mind the strength of the Church as a place and an institution, as well as the strength of the Church as the people of God.  This paper seeks to illustrate the presence of Church structure and the acknowledgement of the Church as “the people of God” as two complimentary yet contrasting aspects of Church, and how they have evolved through ages of the Church.  In a sense, this balance of Church structure and the people of God is representative of the balance between Peter and Paul and their influence in the early Church.  Peter’s writings convey his deep sense of his Jewish roots, expressed in the Judaic covenants and the journey of the Jewish people as God’s chosen people.  Paul, on the other hand, especially in his later pastoral epistles, imparts his desire to apply order and structure, like that of the Roman Empire, to the early Church.  As one studies various ages of the Church, one can see a constant striving for balance between the desire for a strongly structured, organizational Church, against a desire for a strong appreciation of God’s people as “Church.”

In the pastoral epistles, Paul stresses the initial formation and presence of Church structure as he discusses the qualifications to be a leader in the early Church and addresses those who have oversight of the various local churches.  This rigor around Church structure is an adjustment for Paul.  In his early letters, his missionary zeal rules.  However, the pastoral epistles are a shift from his early missionary spirit, replaced by “the concern to maintain the survival of a community bound by the traditions of the apostles, and [replacing] the early charismatic leadership [with] a rigid structure that regulates the life of this community.”[note]David W. Pao, “Let No One Despise Your Youth : Church and the World in the Pastoral Epistles,” Journal Of The Evangelical Theological Society 57, no. 4 (2013): 743-755.[/note]  In The Churches the Apostles Left Behind, Raymond E. Brown paints a picture of Paul near death, and suggests that this change in Paul’s focus is due to thinking about those he is leaving behind – “How are they to survive, especially since an enormous danger is presented by false teachers who could mislead them (Titus 1:10; I Tim 4:1-2; II Tim 3:6; 4:3)?”[note]Raymond E. Brown, The Churches the Apostles Left Behind (New York/Mahwah: Paulist Press, 1984), 31.[/note] Paul practically opens the letter to Titus asking the community to “set right what remains to be done” (Titus 1:5 NABRE) and appoint presbyter-bishops, seeking to ensure the bishop is present as the authority providing Apostolic continuity.  Through Paul’s writing in the pastoral epistles, a modern reader gets a sense of what the early Church was starting to stress in terms of leadership (local bishops) and leaders’ moral qualifications.  The Apostles sent delegates with authority based in their own apostolic authority, which evolved into an expectation of bishops responsible for the local churches, carrying that same authority.

When Constantine formally recognized the Church in 313 AD, the structure of Church started to crystalize into its current form, in parallel with political and governmental structure of the time.  Along with public security and protection, Constantine also put the church under himself as “the supreme lawgiver, the pontifex maxiumus… [and] he convoked the first church councils… decided when such councils were over, and whether their decisions were valid and had the force of law.  He also drew ecclesiastical districts, appointed bishops, and heard appeals on ecclesiastical matters.”[note]John Vidmar, OP, The Catholic Church Through the Ages: A History, Second Edition (New York/Mahwah: Paulist Press, 2014), 54-55.[/note]  Although this wasn’t the ideal vision of Church, with emperor over pope, it did accelerate the formation and formalization of Church structure.  It also put into place many of the parallels between Church structure and civil structure that are still in place today, such as, the global authority of the pope and the start of the recognition of councils and canons.

As Brown points out, advantages of an organized church structure include an assurance that stability and continuity are enhanced, and that qualifications for good and appropriate church leaders are established.  In the age of the Church Fathers, bishops were present and held collegiality with the bishop of Rome as their de facto head, providing the structure of the Church through the first several centuries.  During this time and into the Middle Ages, at least seven Church Councils met and helped to further clarify teachings and strengthen this structure through their gathering and collaboration.  During the Middle Ages, the Church structure became the only European structure in place, helping hold together Western Civilization as we still know it.  In the High Middle Ages, Church structure and power became formalized in the papacy, until the Protestant Reformation when Luther’s reforms effectively rallied against Church structure and authority.  In the modern world, the Church continued to lose power through political shifts.  At the Second Vatican Council, there was a definite desire to emphasize the laity and their place in the Church and world, which suggests the laity had become less important as the structure of the Church had grown through the ages.  Pope Francis continues to push power away from Rome, toward fellow bishops and national bishops’ conferences.

Compared to Paul’s institutional Church of his pastoral epistles, the Church is stressed in different terms in I Peter, which carries an “insistent description of the church against the background of Israel”[note]Brown, The Churches the Apostles Left Behind, 76.[/note] as the people of God.  This makes sense, with Peter’s mostly Jewish audience in Jerusalem and in the Jewish people spread throughout the world.  In this Petrine heritage, many expectations of Christian life and behavior are framed against the life and behavior of God’s people in the Old Testament.  The pinnacle of this framing is the “Christian life… described as a time of exile or sojourning with the hope of an inheritance yet to be attained (I Peter 1:17; 1:4), echoing Israel’s desert wandering before it reached its inheritance in the promised land.[note]Brown, 77.[/note]  The writings in I Peter teach eloquently of the gift of new life in Christ through Baptism and what that Christian life of the people of God should look like.

Brown points out that a strength of the church as “people of God” is that members have a sense that there are real benefits to be gained from belonging.  This was especially important in the context of the persecution faced by the early Church, with its cultural alienation and ostracism, with a new family, a new home, and a promise of new life in Christ.  Church as the people of God also stresses a strong sense of community and the priestly dignity of all the baptized.  Risks or weaknesses called out by Brown include the fact that a sense of exclusive privilege can develop among the faithful, and the risk that outsiders can be viewed as “non-people” or something less than the faithful.

In the early Church, Peter’s vision of the people of God provided a feeling of promise and community against the backdrop of suffering, persecution, and the threat of martyrdom.  As the structure of the Church as an institution grew, the sense of being the people of God seemed to decline.  This idea found a new awakening in the Church in the modern era, when the Second Vatican Council’s Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Lumen Gentium, stressed first the mystery of the Church, and then the people of God. Notably, two of the citations of the ninth paragraph of Lumen Gentium are of I Peter:

“God… does not make men holy and save them merely as individuals, without bond or link between one another. Rather has it pleased Him to bring men together as one people, a people which acknowledges Him in truth and serves Him in holiness. He therefore chose the race of Israel as a people unto Himself…. taught and prepared this people, making known in its history both Himself and the decree of His will and making it holy unto Himself… by way of preparation and as a figure of that new and perfect covenant, which was to be ratified in Christ, and of that fuller revelation which was to be given through the Word of God Himself made flesh… [instituting the] new covenant, the new testament, that is to say, in His Blood, calling together a people made up of Jew and gentile, making them one, not according to the flesh but in the Spirit. This was to be the new People of God. For those who believe in Christ, who are reborn not from a perishable but from an imperishable seed through the word of the living God, not from the flesh but from water and the Holy Spirit, are finally established as “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a purchased people . . . who in times past were not a people, but are now the people of God”.[note]Second Vatican Council. Dogmatic Constitution on the Church Lumen gentium (21 November 1964), par. 9, The Holy See, Accessed October 29, 2017, http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vat-ii_const_19641121_lumen-gentium_en.html.[/note]

Vatican II planted the seeds for a new growth for the Church as the people of God that has continued to flourish still today, and it is an important direction in which the Spirit has guided the church in the modern era, in response to political changes and individual desires of the faithful.  In an article titled “Church and ministry: a Roman Catholic perspective” published in 1982, Mark Heath writes,

“For Roman Catholics this growing consciousness of church is not only a search for an alternative to individualism but also for an alternative to the identification of church with hierarchy. The seat of this consciousness was sown in the aftermath of world political and economic revolutions. In a new era of democracy and labor unions, the life of the church became the responsibility of all its members and not alone of its leaders.”[note]Mark Heath, “Church and ministry: a Roman Catholic perspective,” Review & Expositor 79, no. 2 (1982): 315-327.[/note]

In this modern era, the Church and its members are yet again seeking an acceptable balance between Church hierarchy and the individual sense of identity as God’s own people. Just like in the child’s play of folding one’s hands into the Church, then opening them to see the people, the Church has sought through its ages, and continues to seek in modern times, the balance between institution and people, between Paul’s Pastoral vision and the vision of the people of God in Peter I.

Submitted November 2, 2017, for assignment 1 of the course “Church History”, Instructor: Deacon Patrick J. Donahue, D. Min..

In the book of the prophet Isaiah, God teaches mankind, “my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways… For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, my thoughts higher than your thoughts.” (Isa 55:8-9 NABRE). The words of God in this passage, spoken through the Prophet, remind us that no matter how hard we try to come to a full knowledge and understanding of the ways of God in this life, we will still fall short. Modern skeptics argue against faith and the truth of Scripture with intelligent, well-researched, and well-structured arguments based on seeming inconsistencies found within the supposedly-inerrant Scriptures. The “Method B” approach of the modern, historical-critical skeptic zooms into snippets of Scripture and focuses on the origins, historical settings, and truths surrounding the text to understand it from a scientific viewpoint. Because of such a read, and forgetting that “[God’s] thoughts are higher than [our] thoughts,” a skeptic using this approach is unable to explain seeming contradictions scattered through the entire Canon of Scripture, or singular events or stories that stand in contrast to the full, revealed truth of God’s nature and essence. Particularly in the Old Testament, there are many different types of contradictions noted by modern scholars: the nature of God, the nature of good and evil, and the nature of the afterlife.

One of the major contradictions noted in the Old Testament by modern scholars and skeptics is the presence of so much evil directly or indirectly caused by, or seemingly ordered or permitted by, a God who is otherwise presented as all-loving, all-knowing, and fully-benevolent. This paper will outline some of the modern (Method B) challenges to the inerrancy of Scripture, specifically stemming from this “problem of evil,” outline some of the traditional arguments against this concern from the Church’s history and tradition (Method A), and explore some of the ways that these arguments can be synthesized using a new method that can help better serve a modern audience. It will also explore some of the principles one must understand and address to prepare an appropriate response for the modern Method B skeptic.

To overcome these critical challenges, today’s Christian apologist cannot expect to rely solely upon ancient arguments of faith, predominantly written/provided by the Doctors of the Church and passed along in the Church’s Tradition. These arguments, referred to as Method A exegesis, are useful in explaining or building upon an understanding of elements of Scripture for a person who already has the gift of faith. However, for a skeptic, they typically lead only to more questions or objections and do not carry much credibility in modern argument devoid of faith. Pope Benedict XVI, when he was still Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, proposed a new method of exegesis, Method C, which marries the strengths of both Method A (insights from the legacy and inherited tradition of the church) and Method B (a careful, historically-informed reading of the text). When proposing his Method C, Benedict layed out a vision in which a faithful scholar could incorporate Method B questions, interpretations, and approaches, insofar as they don’t conflict with the depth of knowledge and insight from the Church’s treasury of tradition (Method A), and bring the two together into a new approach, rather than relying solely upon one or the other. Similar to how Benedict saw the opportunity for the old and new forms of the liturgy to be “mutually enriching,”[note]Benedict XVI, Letter of His Holiness Benedict XVI to the Bishops on the Occasion of the Publication of the Apostolic Letter “Motu Proprio Data”, Summorum Pontificum, on the use of the Roman Liturgy Prior to the Reform of 1970 (7 July 2007), par. 9, Holy See, accessed October 2, 2017, https://w2.vatican.va/content/benedict-xvi/en/letters/2007/documents/hf_ben-xvi_let_20070707_lettera-vescovi.html[/note] he also imagined an approach to Biblical scholarship by which tradition and modern exegesis could mutually enrich each other in his Method C.

As noted, one major objection raised by modern skeptics is the presence of so much evil in the creation of a good God. In God is Not Great, the New York Times bestseller by popular skeptic Christopher Hitchens, he “presents his readers with everything from ‘demented pronouncements’ in Scripture to the more serious ‘atrocities’ committed by God and the people of God.”[note]Matthew J. Ramage, Dark Passages of the Bible: Engaging Scripture with Benedict XVI & Thomas Aquinas (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2013), 179.[/note] In Benedict’s September 2006 address at Regensburg, he asserted that “violence is incompatible with the nature of God.”[note]Ibid, 180.[/note] One hundred Muslim leaders responded to his assertion, referring to God drowning Pharaoh and his armies in the waters of the Red Sea, and asking the question, “When God drowned Pharaoh, was He going against his own Nature?”[note]Ibid.[/note] It is a very valid question, posed by educated men in the modern world, of how a good God can permit or enact some of the evil events found in Scripture.

Some of the instances of evil in the Old Testament that Matthew J. Ramage explicitly calls out in Dark Passages of the Bible, Engaging Scripture with Benedict XVI & Thomas Aquinas, include God destroying everything but Noah’s family and the animals with them in the ark in Genesis 7, the killing of the first-born throughout the land of Egypt (the Passover) in Exodus 12, the destruction and conquest of Canaan in Deuteronomy 20, and the killing of every man, woman, and child in those conquests in Deuteronomy 2.[note]Ibid, 181.[/note] These certainly are difficult texts to explain. Before our discussion turns specifically to answering for some of these texts, it is important to explore two overarching concepts in Biblical exegesis: Scripture’s apparent development, and the existence of apparent contradictions in Scripture.

One of these areas that one must tackle first when dealing with modern criticism of the inerrancy of Scripture is the problem of Scripture’s apparent development, namely “that not all portions of Scripture explicitly teach the fullness of revealed truth Christians expect to find in the Bible.”[note]Ibid, 92.[/note] Put simply: Scripture developed over time, as man’s understanding of God and what God was revealing to man developed (the “divine pedagogy”). The idea that Scripture developed over time and may have competing or developing viewpoints on things like the nature of God seems to come into conflict with the idea that all of Scripture is inerrant. However, it is important to understand that the fullness of what Scripture teaches was developed over time, and wasn’t fully “baked” or understood by man in the early books of the Bible. While the fullness of revelation was expressed “when the fullness of time had come” (Gal 4:4), earlier generations, particularly through most of the history told throughout the Old Testament, were still learning about God through revelation as time progressed. In our present discussion, this is illustrated by the presence of things that God did, permitted, or “encouraged” that appear to be evil in the Old Testament, and that are in opposition to the all-good nature of God supposed by believers and presented elsewhere in Scripture. St. Thomas Aquinas provides the framework to tackle this problem of development, allowing us “to defend the inerrancy of early biblical texts which fail to explicitly display… an understanding of evil consonant with Christian doctrine.”[note]Ibid, 92-93.[/note] Aquinas suggests that the substance of the faith never changed – it was always present. Instead, what developed over time was man’s understanding of that substance of the faith, and the number of truths as God revealed it over time. He wrote,

“As regards the substance of the articles of faith, they have not received any increase as time went on: since whatever those who lived later had believed, was contained, albeit implicitly, in the faith of those Fathers who preceded them. But there was an increase in the number of articles believed explicitly, since to those who lived in later times some were known explicitly which were not known explicitly by those who lived before them.”[note]Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, II-II, q.1, a.7.[/note]

These “articles” of which Aquinas speaks are the subjects that the faithful know or believe. While they increased or were known about more explicitly over time, the substantive truth of God and faith did not change over time. Why would God reveal these subjects, even these truths about Himself, over time? One reasonable explanation is that it took time and discernment for man to come to understand, grasp, and assimilate these truths. Much of the Old Testament, in fact, is a story of the people of Israel learning something from God, accepting it for a time, then turning back away from God until they learned through trial and error that society, culture, and life were better when they were living in the ways that had been revealed to them. Aquinas says, “Man acquires a share of this learning, not indeed all at once, but little by little, according to the mode of his nature.”[note]Ibid, q2., a.3.[/note] Aquinas provides a helpful framework for combining the unity of Scripture stressed by Method A, while acknowledging and integrating the apparent development within Scripture often noted by Method B.

Another area that must be tackled when overcoming modern objections to Scripture’s inerrancy is that of apparent contradictions in Scripture. This correlates directly to some of the areas this paper explores – how an all-good God can cause or permit any of the evil that is apparent in the text of Scripture. To help tackle this area of contradictions, it is again helpful to turn to St. Thomas Aquinas and his insight into how Scripture came to be written. First, Aquinas applies a broad lens to the idea of “prophesy”, saying that every Biblical author is a “prophet” since they were revealed things by God[note]Ramage, Dark Passages, 115.[/note], then saying that prophesy is “something known by God and surpassing the faculty of man,”[note]Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, II-II, q.174, a.1.[/note] broadening the concept of “prophesy” to include much more than what is typically considered to be prophesy. Then, he introduces the idea that a prophet is moved to write in two steps, first “inspiration,” in which God opens his mind to be ready to receive some piece of knowledge, and then “revelation,” in which that knowledge is revealed to the prophet. A simple analogy would be considering inspiration as preparing the soil to plant a seed by digging and preparing a hole, and then revelation as planting the actual seed into the soil. Aquinas posits that in at least some cases, God inspires the prophet, inspiring and opening his mind, but then the prophet sets to writing before revelation has occurred. What is to be said of the divine authorship and inerrancy of Scripture, then? Aquinas would say that, in the way that an author can write something that still incorporates and formulates the ideas of others, God can be the author of Scripture, but still incorporate and permit the inclusion of the ideas of its human author, the prophet. These ideas might include indications of the cultural or historical place and moment in which they reside. In commentary on Aquinas’s thoughts within the last century, Paul Synave and Pierre Benoit “put forth the thesis that God can be the author (auctor) of Scripture even if not every individual “idea” contained therein is his.”[note]Paul Synave and Pierre Benoit, Prophecy and Inspiration: A Commentary on the Summa Theologica II-II, Questions 171-178 (New York: Desclee Co., 1961), 88.[/note] In this way, we can come to accept that some of the events recorded in Scripture may not be the “ideas” of God, but were perhaps permitted to further the faithful’s understanding of God, or to accurately record the history of God’s people in order for future generations to come to a more complete understanding “in the fullness of time.”

One’s understanding of God’s “authorship” of Scripture can be developed even a step further, in recognizing that the Church’s own tradition doesn’t necessarily claim or imply that God is the author of Scripture in today’s commonly-understood sense. Yes, the Church does teach that all Scripture is inspired. Even within the canon of Scripture, we learn that, “All Scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching, for refutation, for correction, and for training in righteousness” (2 Tim 3:16). However, as John Henry Newman writes,

“With this perspective, we can further see that it’s possible that God is the origination point of the ideas in the Bible without being seen in the modern sense as the “author” of every word of Scripture. It is thus easier to understand how some instances of evil and atrocities may have entered the inspired body of Scripture.”[note]John Henry Newman, On the Inspiration of Scripture, edited by J. Derek Holmes and Robert Murray (Washington, D.C.: Corpus Books, 1967), 10.[/note]

With a fuller understanding of how to deal with the development of Scripture and of apparent contradictions therein, our attention can now turn to some of the specific “dark passages” noted earlier, and others, reflecting the nature of good and evil presented in the Bible.

The Old Testament presents so much that could be perceived as evil being perpetrated, permitted, or encouraged by a God that we are to believe is all-good, which creates the contradiction modern skeptics are quick to point out. In the book of Genesis, God destroys everything on earth except for Noah’s immediate family and the animals with them in the ark. In the book of Exodus, “the Lord” killed all the first-born in the land of Egypt. Further, he buried Pharaoh’s army and chariots in the waters of the Red Sea. In the book of Exodus, one encounters several events that call into question the inerrancy of Scripture or the goodness of God. As the final of the ten plagues of Egypt, “the Lord struck down every firstborn in the land of Egypt, from the firstborn of Pharaoh sitting on his throne to the firstborn of the prisoner in the dungeon, as well as all the firstborn of the animals.” (Exod 12:29). Later, in the book of Ezekiel, recalling the Israelites’ exodus, the prophet records God saying that due to their rebellion and lack of following his ordinances, he said,

“I swore to them in the wilderness that I would disperse them among the nations and scatter them in other lands, because they did not carry out my ordinances, but rejected my statutes and desecrated my sabbaths, having eyes only for the idols of their ancestors. Therefore I gave them statutes that were not good, and ordinances through which they could not have life. I let them become defiled by their offerings, by having them make a fiery offering of every womb’s firstborn, in order to ruin them so they might know that I am the Lord.” (Ezek 20:23-26)

A modern scholar using a Method B historical-critical approach would look at each piece of text independently, seeking answers from the historical context as to what it meant that God struck down all the firstborn of Egypt, or that God purposefully gave the Israelites statutes that weren’t good, or caused them to offer their own children as sacrifice. Someone using Method A exegesis would look elsewhere in the Bible to find explanations for these passages, to back up their belief that God would not do such evil things. Before one tries to build a Method C approach to these Scriptures, it’s helpful to turn to one additional sequence of Old Testament events: the various ways that the Old Testament authors tried to understand the “hardening of the heart” of Pharaoh.

Pharaoh’s hardened heart – expressed through his reactions to Moses and the plagues that befell Egypt, and how he chose to continue to respond to those various events, provides interesting insight into the Old Testament authors’ own wrestling with God’s causality of such events, and even God’s causality of Pharaoh’s hardened heart. As Ramage calls out in Dark Passages, “Although the majority of the time Exodus narrates that ‘the Lord hardened Pharaoh’s heart’ (Ex 9:12) or even reports God’s words, ‘I will harden his heart,’… in other places it states that ‘Pharaoh hardened his [own] heart’ (Ex 8:32), or simply that ‘Pharaoh’s heart was hardened.’ (Ex 7:13)[note]Ramage, Dark Passages, 189.[/note] This is a fantastic way to illustrate to a Method B exegete, via the development within the text describing the sequence of events, how Aquinas’s concept of the substance being the same even though the writers’ understanding continued to develop, is at play as it relates to how much God’s own action or causality played into these events. It then becomes relatively easy to turn the conversation toward how Israel and its Old Testament writers continued to grow in their understanding of how active God was or wasn’t in causing some of these evil events. The point of the text is its sum, not the individual parts. If, as Ramage points out, “most Method B scholars concur that the Pentateuch as we have it today is the product of many different authors writing over many centuries,”[note]Ibid.[/note] then one could also point out that all the various authors and redactors who eventually brought us the text as we have it today could have removed the discrepancies if they thought that it was important. The fact that they did not illuminates that the text is intended to impart a different lesson – perhaps not a definitive teaching on God’s causing (or not causing) evil, but instead to teach some other truth about God, or God’s intent for his relationship with man.

One final challenging text in the Old Testament that is helpful to understand as a “dark passage” is the destruction that the book of Deuteronomy indicates the Israelites rendered in their conquest of the promised land, seemingly at God’s own command. As Israel went on to conquest the promised land, God ordered the killing of every man, woman, and child. As recalled in Deuteronomy,

“And the Lord our God gave him over to us; and we defeated him and his sons and all his people. And we captured all his cities at that time and utterly destroyed every city, men, women, and children; we love none remaining.” (Dt 2:33-34; cf. 3:6; Jo 6:21)

“But in the cities of these peoples that the Lord your God gives you for an inheritance, you shall save alive nothing that breathes, but you shall utterly destroy them, the Hittites and the Amorites, the Canaanites and the Per’izzites, the Hivites and the Jeb’usites, as the Lord your God has commanded.” (Dt 20:16-17)

These passages express a sentiment that also shined through in the earlier citation from Ezekiel 20, in which the author assumed that God willed the evils that befell the Israelites on their journey, as a response for their turning from his ways. Now, in Deuteronomy, there is an assumption that God’s active will of these events is the cause of them. Again, one sees the earlier assumptions of the Old Testament writers, not yet fully developed through the ongoing revelation of God to His people, perhaps misattributing the cause of some of these historical events. To help explain these, it is helpful to look at another area of development through the Old Testament, the development of the “accuser,” the earliest and developing form of Satan through Scripture. Some of Method B comes into play as one considers the development, over time, of the character of an “accuser” who initially stands pointing out the cause of evil events, into a character who openly antagonizes Biblical characters like Job, and then into a character who is in opposition to God. If Method A and Method B exegetes can agree upon the development of another key Old Testament “character” like the one who developed, in the fullness of revelation, into Satan, then a Method C synthesis can point back to the development of Old Testament authors’ understanding of the causality of evil events. Whereas in one period of Old Testament writings it may have been assumed that God willed or caused events like those in Deuteronomy relating the conquest of the promised land, as the divine pedagogy revealed more of God’s fullness to man over time, authors were subsequently able to hone their understanding of what God may have actively willed versus what God may have simply permitted, allowing room for man’s free will.

As time went on, as the divine pedagogy continued, the authors of Scripture came to understand more deeply that God may not have been the active cause of every evil that had previously been attributed to him. Yet, there was no reason to go back and emend earlier texts, since those same authors probably also understood (via a Method A traditional understanding) that the message being taught, or the substance being relayed, was not impacted by those incidental facts or points of attribution for evils that occurred. It is only in the light of Method B, looking at each bit of Scripture in isolation and alongside its historical context, that some of these questions start to arise, like how a supposedly-good God could allow or perpetrate such evils. As this paper has explored, there are still well-reasoned Method C responses that have developed, and will continue to develop, which respect Benedict XVI’s wishes that we “mutually enrich” the old and the new, in the case of scriptural exegesis marrying Method A with Method B into a new, more mature Method C understanding. This new understanding and these responses help to account for some of the problems and “dark passages” presented in the Old Testament. But more importantly, this understanding will continue to grow as mankind proceeds toward its ultimate end in God, because, as the prophet Isaiah wrote, “[God’s] thoughts are higher than [our] thoughts.” (Isa 55:9b)

Submitted October 3, 2017, for the course “Introduction to Scripture”, Instructor: Dr. Matthew Ramage.

Image: Rembrandt van Rijn, Abraham’s Sacrifice. Etching and drypoint on paper, 1655.

I always start my day by offering the Morning Prayer of the church (as I’m obliged to do while in formation, and would promise to do if I am ever ordained.)

I usually don’t include the Office of Readings to start the day (I’m not obliged to do so), but I chose to this morning, and boy was I surprised! I picked a heck of a day to start.

From this morning’s Office of Readings (my emphasis added):

Second Reading: A letter to the Trallians by St Ignatius of Antioch I wish to forewarn you, for you are my dearest children

Ignatius, also called Theophorus, to the holy church at Tralles in the province of Asia, dear to God the Father of Jesus Christ, elect and worthy of God, enjoying peace in body and in the Spirit through the passion of Jesus Christ, who is our hope through our resurrection when we rise to him. In the manner of the apostles, I too send greetings to you with the fullness of grace and extend my every best wish.

Reports of your splendid character have reached me: how you are beyond reproach and ever unshaken in your patient endurance – qualities that you have not acquired but are yours by nature. My informant was your own bishop Polybius, who by the will of God and Jesus Christ visited me here in Smyrna. He so fully entered into my joy at being in chains for Christ that I came to see your whole community embodied in him. Moreover, when I learned from him of your God-given kindliness toward me, I broke out in words of praise for God. It is on him, I discovered, that you pattern your lives.

Your submission to your bishop, who is in the place of Jesus Christ, shows me that you are not living as men usually do but in the manner of Jesus himself, who died for us that you might escape death by belief in his death. Thus one thing is necessary, and you already observe it, that you do nothing without your bishop; indeed, be subject to the clergy as well, seeing in them the apostles of Jesus Christ our hope, for if we live in him we shall be found in him.

Deacons, too, who are ministers of the mysteries of Jesus should in all things be pleasing to all men. For they are not mere servants with food and drink, but emissaries of God’s Church; hence they should guard themselves against anything deserving reproach as they would against fire.

Similarly, all should respect the deacons as Jesus Christ, just as all should regard the bishop as the image of the Father, and the clergy as God’s senate and the college of the apostles. Without these three orders you cannot begin to speak of a church. I am confident that you share my feelings in this matter, for I have had an example of your love in the person of your bishop who is with me now. His whole bearing is a great lesson, and his very gentleness wields a mighty influence.

By God’s grace there are many things I understand, but I keep well within my limitations for fear that boasting should be my undoing. At the moment, then, I must be more apprehensive than ever and pay no attention at all to those who flatter me; their praise is as a scourge. For though I have a fierce desire to suffer martyrdom, I know not whether I am worthy of it. Most people are unaware of my passionate longing, but it assails me with increasing intensity. My present need, then, is for that humility by which the prince of this world is overthrown.

And so I strongly urge you, not I so much as the love of Jesus Christ, to be nourished exclusively on Christian fare, abstaining from the alien food that is heresy. And this you will do if you are neither arrogant nor cut off from God, from Jesus Christ, and from the bishop and the teachings of the apostles. Whoever is within the sanctuary is pure; but whoever is not is unclean. That is to say, whoever acts apart from the bishop and the clergy and the deacons is not pure in his conscience. In writing this, it is not that I am aware of anything of the sort among you; I only wish to forewarn you, for you are my dearest children.

Workers in the Vineyard, Erasmus Quellinius

Today’s Gospel is deeply meaningful to me. When our initial cohort of our Diaconate formation class was told, in the summer of 2016, that our formation was going to be extended by a year while the diocese opened the door for more classmates to join us, my brother classmates and I were initially swept by a variety of emotions – including some confusion and anger.

That eventually gave way to docility and acceptance.

For me, today’s Gospel was a big part of my own reflection and prayer around our formation “pause”. Today, I’m thankful for the rest of our class – those who joined us in the vineyard later in the day.

In the midst of all of the protests (and rioting) in St. Louis right now (just follow the Twitter hashtag #stlverdict for a bit), it was refreshing and provided some good reflection to be able to be part of a peaceful prayer walk and “protest” yesterday. It was our annual Diocesan pro-life Mass and prayer walk to the abortion clinic in downtown Granite City.

After Mass, as we walked down Washington Avenue from the church to the clinic, I was reflecting on how nice it was to be able to exercise our rights to assemble, to march, to pray, and to protest – and to do it in such a way that everyone knew that we weren’t a threat, and that we wouldn’t misbehave or riot. In fact, we were lucky to have a police escort helping to keep the road clear for us as we walked the few short blocks.

I believe in peaceful assembly and protest, and was proud to be a part of how it’s done “well”.

It’s unfortunate that we have to pray and protest for a closure of a place that provides for the killing of innocent human life, but such is the nature of protesting against things that we believe are injustices in our society.

And we even made the local “rumor” mill on Facebook!:

For what it’s worth, my second oldest was one of the vimps for the Bishop, serving his very first Mass (vimping alongside his older brother)! And he got to continue to “vimp” for the whole walk to the clinic, carrying the Bishop’s crozier as we walked:

Image: © lightpoet – Shutterstock

I awoke this morning to the tail end of a dream in which I was sitting in the kitchen of the (three advisers back) lead adviser to the National Order of the Arrow Shows team. It wasn’t really his kitchen (I’ve never been to his house), but it was how I imagine his house to be in the hills of Pennsylvania, and the kitchen was the kitchen at my grandparents’ old house in Sikeston, Missouri (a very special kitchen to me).

In the dream, “Randy” and I were talking about the power of shows and theatre in culture, and why they’re so important in informing and developing the philosophy of a people.

Over the course of the conversation, “Randy” said something to me that stood out to the rest and then became the “soundtrack” of the rest of what I saw, thought, and felt in the dream:

“The Call is Sacred.”

In a moment in my own life and discernment when I’ve started to question “callings” of my own, hearing such an important adviser in my own life say, even in a dream, “The call is sacred“, triggered a lot of thinking and emotion this morning.

Calls are, in fact, sacred. “Small ‘s’ sacred” sometimes, but sacred nonetheless. They convey deep meaning, sometimes (often?) life-changing messages. Calls are special.

“Come, follow me.” – God

“Will you marry me?” – beloved

“Dad!” – child, scared, at 3 AM

“Could you help me with this?” – friend

“We need you to come into the office to talk about your test results.” – doctor

“Come, let us sing to the Lord.” – Psalm 95 (at the start of each day’s liturgy)

Respecting the Call

Sometimes in today’s busy world and culture, with our hectic schedules and distracted device-laden lifestyles, it’s easy to neglect or ignore calls, or miss them altogether.

How can I focus on listening more to the calls coming my way and responding appropriately to them? How can I better respect the call, reflect upon it, and answer well?

Pray. Listen. Discern.

There’s a reason, I think, that the message that, “The Call is Sacred”, came to me in a dream, in my “grandparents’ kitchen”, from an adviser who has meant a lot in my life and who led a team that meant so much in my life. It bolsters the message and causes it to echo in my heart.

Calls ARE sacred, and so are our responses to them.