Abbaye de Solesmes en Drone / France TV Sport / Tour de France 2013. from FREEWAY PROD on Vimeo.
[Hat tip to R.C.]
Abbaye de Solesmes en Drone / France TV Sport / Tour de France 2013. from FREEWAY PROD on Vimeo.
"We will find ourselves more and more faced with someone who professes to speak to us in the name of God by telling us that we have no need of Him.”With that, Bongi turns his thoughts, "as a simple layman who observes what is happening around him."
Basing itself on Sacred Scripture, which presents homosexual acts as acts of grave depravity (Gen. 19:1-2; Rom. 1:24-27; I Cor. 6:10; I Tim. 1:10), tradition has always declared that "homosexual acts are intrinsically disordered." They are contrary to the natural law. They close the sexual act to the gift of life. They do not proceed from a genuine affective and sexual complementarity. Under no circumstances can they be approved." (CCC, #2357, emphasis added)Which brings us to the question raised by the title of our post. While we see daily examples of Catholics and even some Church officials appearing to waffle or go soft on various aspects of Church teaching, particularly on morals, most Catholics would be surprised to think that of a flagship publication of Catholic neo-conservatism founded by the celebrated Catholic convert from Lutheranism, Fr. Richard John Neuhaus. One would not expect, for example, to read passages such as Paul J. Griffiths recently wrote in his review of Darling: A Spiritual Autobiography, by Richard Rodriguez, a self-identified "gay." Near the end of his review (FT, April 2014, pp. 58-59), Griffiths first offers this rather benign observation:
I don't agree with every position taken in Darling, or with every argument offered. On Islam, I suspect that's what's needed at the moment isn't emphasis on the similarities among the three so-called Abrahamic religions as desert faiths, real though these are, but rather on difference and complimentarity. The recent work of Rémi Brague on this, especially On the God of the Christians (and on one or two others), is especially instructive.As I say, nothing particularly notable there ... But then he continues:
On homosexuality and homosexual acts, by contrast, I think Rodriguez much closer to being right than not. Insofar as such acts are motivated by and evoke love, they are good and to be loved; insofar as they do not, not. In this, they are no different from heterosexual acts.Really? Acts that the Bible and Catholic tradition have always declared "sins that cry to heaven for vengeance" can be "motivated by and evoke love"?
One, Francis Schaeffer pioneered a new way of advancing the gospel. All my life I’d been exposed to conventional people using conventional methods, and I don’t mean that in a condescending way. I had the privilege of knowing men of true greatness, like my dad. But Schaeffer was just different. He located the gospel within a total Christian worldview. He talked about modern art and films and books. He spoke with prophetic insight about cultural trends. He worked out fresh ways to articulate old truths, even coining new expressions like “true truth.” He had a beard and long hair and dressed like a European. He had Christian radicalism all over him, called for by those radical times. I found him non-ignorable. To this day, I dislike conventionality, partly because I saw in Francis Schaeffer a man who made an impact not by conforming and fitting in but by standing out as the man God made him to be, the man the world needed him to be.And so do I.
Two, Francis Schaeffer united in a coherent and even beautiful whole theological conviction with personal humaneness. I remember his saying once that, in a conversation with a liberal theologian, he would try to conduct himself so that the liberal would gain two clear and equal impressions. One, Schaeffer disagreed with him theologically. Two, Schaeffer cared about him personally. Moreover, Schaeffer pointed out that, in ourselves, we are unable to demonstrate simultaneously the truth and holiness of God, on the one hand, and the love and mercy of God, on the other hand. In our own strength, we will slide off toward one emphasis or the other. But as we look to the Lord moment by moment, we can hold together both theological conviction and human beauty. But only by both together can we bear living witness to the magnitude of who Jesus really is. And if we fail to show the fullness of Christ, we actually bear false witness to him, we make him ugly in human eyes, and we set his cause back, however sincere we may be.
Three, Francis Schaeffer and his wife Edith, leading L’Abri Fellowship in Switzerland, exemplified compelling Christian community. They welcomed all kinds of people. They attracted all kinds of people. They demonstrated a gentleness, openness and tolerance that created space for many diverse people who wouldn’t have found a home in our more typical churches. They sacrificed personally to create this rare kind of community. Their wedding gifts were wrecked, people threw up on their carpets, and so forth. The Schaeffers flung open their lives, their hearts, their space, and it cost them. But they gained many people for Christ. This bold commitment is real Christianity. Anything less is bluff and hypocrisy.
I thank the Lord for Francis Schaeffer.
Rejoice, dear Mr. Schaeffer (and you calling your-selves 'fundamentalists' all over the world)! Rejoice and go on to believe in your 'logics' (as in the fourth article of your creed!) and in your-selves as in the only true 'bible-believing' people! Shout so loudly as you can! But, pray, allow me, to let you alone. 'Conversations' are possible between open-minded people. Your paper and the review of your friend Buswell reveals the fact of your decision to close your window-shutters. I do not know how to deal with a man who comes to see and to speak to me in the quality of an [sic] detective-inspector or with the beheavior [sic] of a missionary who goes to convert a heathen. No, thanks! Yours sincerely. Excuse my bad English. I am not accustomed to write in your language.This excerpt is found on p. 39 of Francis Schaeffer and the Shaping of Evangelical America, by Barry Hankins, who goes on to say: "Schaeffer replied that he was surprised at the tone of Barth's letter and that he had expected that the two would be able to sit down together and discuss their differences amicably and openly, without minimizing the disagreement."
Karl Barth was the greatest theologian since the Reformation, and his work is today a dead letter. This is an extraordinary irony. Barth aspired to free Christian theology from restrictive modern habits of mind but in the end preserved the most damaging assumptions of the ideas he sought to overcome. This does not mean he no longer deserves serious attention. Barth now demands exceptionally close attention, precisely because his failures can teach us how profound the challenges of modernity are for theology—and show us the limits of a distinctly modern solution to them.
"... I'd been reading Thomas for almost sixty years and teaching him for over forty. When I was studying a dry-as-dust version of neo-Thomist philosophy from 1957 to 1959, I was rescued from despair by reading the works of Etienne Gilson, especially his Being and some Philosophers. . . . between 1959 and 1963, I was privileged to work with two great modern investigators of Thomas, Joseph de Finance and Bernard Lonergan. It was then I realized that no matter what kind of theology one elects to pursue in life, there is no getting away from Thomas. So the opportunity to come back to Thomas and the Summa was both a challenge and a delight." [From the Preface]Suffice to say I am intrigued, and will have more to report once I get into it.
This concise book tells the story of the most important theological work of the Middle Ages, the vast Summa theologiae of Thomas Aquinas, which holds a unique place in Western religion and philosophy. Written between 1266 and 1273, the Summa was conceived by Aquinas as an instructional guide for teachers and novices and a compendium of all the approved teachings of the Catholic Church. It synthesizes an astonishing range of scholarship, covering hundreds of topics and containing more than a million and a half words--and was still unfinished at the time of Aquinas's death.[Hat tip to C.B.]
Here, Bernard McGinn, one of today's most acclaimed scholars of medieval Christianity, vividly describes the world that shaped Aquinas, then turns to the Dominican friar's life and career, examining Aquinas's reasons for writing his masterpiece, its subject matter, and the novel way he organized it. McGinn gives readers a brief tour of the Summa itself, and then discusses its reception over the past seven hundred years. He looks at the influence of the Summa on such giants of medieval Christendom as Meister Eckhart, its ridicule during the Enlightenment, the rise and fall of Neothomism in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, the role of the Summa in the post-Vatican II church, and the book's enduring relevance today.
Tracing the remarkable life of this iconic work, McGinn's wide-ranging account provides insight into Aquinas's own understanding of the Summa as a communication of the theological wisdom that has been given to humanity in revelation.
Say what you will about the SSPX–and in light recent comments, let me note that I reject any idea that the Novus Ordo Missae is “evil” or “invalid”–you’ve got to respect the honesty of the following passage:
John XXIII once remarked that the Vatican was the hardest place on earth to remain a Christian. The pope’s impish bon mot floated like skywriting over the double canonization in St. Peter’s Square on the Second Easter Sunday. On the glittering heels of this production came advance notice of another: London’s The Tablet reported that Paul VI is on the books for beatification this coming October.
Are we at the point where election to the Petrine office is itself a signal of godliness, a guarantee of eventual canonization? Will each pope canonize his predecessor—or two or three of them—with the unspoken assumption that his own successor will return the compliment? Is election a promissory note drafted in white smoke, and redeemable at death for public elevation to the rank of saint? It begins to look that way.
Not only the faithful but their shepherds, too, are susceptible to media-induced semblances of sanctity. Devotion to the aura of sanctity and to the machine that produces it makes cult figures out of mere men. Like that talking snake in Eden, it murmurs in the ear. It excites the illusion that every papal opinion—however lacking in prudence or responsible facts—is oracular.
This expedited exercise in saint-making was a premature apotheosis, a pageant of synthetic piety staged for immediate media consumption. With this as a precedent, canonization risks becoming one more pseudo-event, like bread and circus, thrown to a culture besotted with virtual reality.
In our lifetime, we have watched the papacy descend into spectacle. By now, showboating—from kissing feet to a mega-Mass on Copacabana Beach—is an established feature of the modern papacy. As if spectacle itself could cure the malaise that has emptied churches, closed parishes, and turned cathedrals into pay-per-view tourist sites.
Extraordinary Faith is a monthly 30 minute television program on EWTN that celebrates the beauty of classical Catholic sacred art, architecture, music, and liturgy. We’ll take you to some of the world’s most awe-inspiring churches. We’ll introduce you to dynamic young Catholics whose faith has survived the demands of a secular world and who are becoming key players in the New Evangelization by sharing their enthusiasm for the traditions of Catholicism. We’ll show you the rich vocations harvest that is synonymous with the movement to restore the Extraordinary Form of Mass to mainstream parish life. We’ll give you the resources to find churches that offer traditional worship experiences, and we’ll even assist you to organize your own Latin Masses.
Come back to this site often and read about our latest new episodes. Every episode will be available for viewing on this web site one month after it debuts on EWTN.
An Anxious Age—the latest from Catholic essayist and pundit Joseph Bottum—is a book about the religious dimension of American public life. And it’s about the rise of a social class with an outsized influence on the shape of American culture, a group he calls post-Protestants.[Hat tip to JM]
... In some ways the earliest chapters of the book reminded me of Bottum’s fellow Catholic writer of an earlier generation, Flannery O’Connor. O’Connor is known in part for her distinctive ability to make Protestant self-righteousness come to life, especially its rural southern variety. Bottum’s focus is self-righteousness too, but not among the usual suspects. His focus is not the right wing religious fundamentalists of O’Connor’s rural Georgia, but the left-leaning, city-dwelling, well-educated and well-off descendants of the social gospelers.
... Conservative pundits have referred to this class as the new “elites.” But Bottum’s main argument is that we’d understand them better if we see them as they see themselves. “They do not feel themselves elite in any economic or political sense of real personal power. What they do feel is that they are redeemed” (130). They’re set apart as a class by their ability to recognize and personally reject the forces of evil—especially bigotry, militarism, oppression, and (sexual) repression. And they enjoy a calm assurance that they’re insiders to a better world coming just around the corner. They saw a vote for Obama in 2008 as an important step toward that new world. And they move closer to that world every time they buy a pair of Tom’s shoes or tote their organic groceries in reusable bags.
... Mainline Protestantism lost its place as America’s moral center in the turbulence of the 1960s and 70s. But Bottum argues the crippling damage was done long before the sexual revolution, the Vietnam War, or legalized abortion. In Bottum’s account, the figure who best represents what happened to Mainline Protestantism and best explains the shape of post-Protestant sensibilities is Walter Rauschenbusch.
... whether nor not Rauschenbusch was as influential as claimed here, Bottum’s insight into his thought and into its implications for the Mainline and for post-Protestants is one of the book’s chief contributions. Two points are especially important.
First, according to Bottum Rauschenbusch redefined sin and redemption. Sin is not an offense against God but an anti-social force, “the evil of bigotry, power, corrupt law, the mob, militarism, and class contempt” (66). Redemption is not peace with God by faith in Christ, but “essentially an attitude of mind,” a “personal, interior rejection” of the forces of evil in society (66). To quote Rauschenbusch, this “redeemed personality” is the “fundamental contribution of every man” to what he called the “progressive regeneration of social life” (quoted on p. 70). [Guy Noir: "This sounds very much like lines from any number of papal encyclicals!"]
Second, Bottum highlights what Machen and Niebuhr recognized about the social gospel, what ultimately undermined the usefulness of Mainline Protestantism, and what put the “post” in the post-Protestant class: Rauschenbusch’s view of sin and salvation left little room for Jesus. Jesus’ teaching may have clarified the nature of evil and the kingdom of righteousness. But, in Bottum’s excellent image, “Christ seems to be only the ladder with which we climbed to a higher ledge. And once there, we no longer need the ladder” (67).
... This is not the book I would recommend if you want a full sense of 20th century American religious history. And for an account of the lost influence of Christianity in American public life, Ross Douthat’s Bad Religion is more comprehensive and—I believe—more compelling. But An Anxious Age is an enjoyable and engaging read, thought provoking even where it isn’t fully convincing.
Two lessons seem especially important. First, those of us who hold a traditional Christian view of human sexuality and marriage must get comfortable being dismissed as bigots. If Bottum is right about the post-Protestant “redeemed personality,” there is a tremendous psychological reward for identifying bigotry and very little social cost to condemning it. In this climate, there is no incentive to consider the nuance by which one can love a person and disapprove of their behavior, disapprove even because you love them and want to see them flourish.
Second, we’ve got to be willing to accept our status as outcasts from the power centers of American society before we’ll be of any use to American society. According to Bottum, Protestant Christianity was most influential in public life when Protestants were more interested in theological faithfulness than public usefulness. As he puts it, “religion actually works to ground the American experiment because we take religion more seriously than the American experiment” (291). [Oh that Rome would seem to take religion more seriously than placating and policies]. The decline of Mainline Protestantism is a powerful cautionary tale. If we assume the gospel while we aim for cultural renewal—if we redefine it in the name of cultural relevance—we’ll end up irrelevant anyway. [emphasis Guy Noir's]
Before I address myself to Cardinal Walter Kasper’s latest remarks on how he thinks Roman Catholicism might change its approach to second marriages and the sacraments, I want to engage with Philip Lawler’s thoughtful responses to some of the issues raised in my column and posts on the possibility of an alteration to Catholic teaching on this front.[Hat tip to JM]
Writing as a doctrinal conservative, with the confidence in the continuity of church teaching that entails, Lawler has kind words for my explanation of some of the doctrinal issues in play, but he argues that in contemplating the potential fall-out from a Kasper-esque shift I’m entertaining a hypothetical that simply can’t and therefore won’t take place. To my suggestion that such proposals “might lead to schism if the pope were to adopt and implement them,” he returns that “and so they might—IF they were adopted. But they won’t be.” Then he wonders if there’s any real purpose to ”talking about the possibility of schism, at a point when the doctrinal debate is only just getting underway,” and worries that even raising that scenario only makes Catholic teaching seem vastly more up-for-grabs than it actually is ...
... the coverage of Pope Francis’s Vatican by respected Catholic journalists of different ideological stripes, from John Allen to John Thavis to Sandro Magister, all of whom — aware of the theological issues in play — have treated the Kasper proposal or something like it as a very live possibility for the church.... [H]igh-ranking churchmen [have spoken] in either general or specific terms in support of such a change — Kasper himself, intimates of the pope like Cardinal Oscar Rodriguez Maradiaga, and as of this week, the cardinal who will serve as secretary-general of the upcoming synod on the family. [There is also] the pope’s personal role, from his initial press conference, through his choice of Kasper to speak to the cardinals on this issue, down to his famous “private” phone call on the subject, not only in inviting debate but seemingly pushing it gently in a specific direction.
Now none of these indicators prove anything about the future, and they fit easily enough with a scenario, suggested by both Allen and Magister, in which the pope will up endorsing some kind of pastoral change around the rules for annulments (which Benedict XVI, as Joseph Ratzinger, also entertained), without following Kasper’s much more problematic suggestion of official paths to communion for the non-annulled.
But it remains the case that if you bracketed questions of continuity and infallibility and simply followed the best reporting on the Vatican and watched what high-ranking cardinals and the pope himself have said and done, you would have good reasons to think that Kasper’s proposal or something like it was receiving very strong consideration by this pontiff.
Which raises an interesting dilemma for Catholics (and especially Catholic writers) who do believe in continuity and the impossibility of certain changes: When it seems that the pope is considering what seems like a doctrinal change, what is the appropriate response? Is it to simply remain imperturbable, secure in the knowledge that the Holy Spirit is in charge? Or is there a duty of some kind to offer counsel that goes beyond simply saying “that can’t happen,” and that actually considers the consequences if it did?
Obviously I incline in the latter direction, or I wouldn’t have written what I did. But I’m not particularly confident in my answer; I think the dilemma, given Lawler’s premises (and mine, perhaps less securely held) about the church, is interesting and real.
In Robert Speaight’s The Unbroken Heart, a novel sadly neglected in the long years following its publication in 1939, a character named Arnaldo has just been told of his beloved wife’s untimely death. His reaction, by today’s standards, seems very strange indeed. “It does not really interest me,” he confesses, “to know by what accident Rhoda died. All our lives are an accident and we must all die somehow.”So begins Regis Martin's article, "Will Anyone End Up In Hell?" (Crisis Magazine, May 1, 2014). Read more >>
So what does interest him? The answer, to his interlocutor at least, sounds almost incomprehensible. “I want to know how she died, what was in her mind, what her soul said to God when she fell from the rampart. Nothing else is of the least importance whatsoever. Our life is directed to that moment when we fall from the rampart, and our eternal destiny is decided by that. But I see that you don’t believe that.”
Nor, would it appear, does anyone else. Certainly not anyone these days, i.e., people anxious to appear hip and stylish, their opinions plugged into the usual circuits of secularity. People for whom the parameters of life are far more plausibly found between the covers of, say, Time or Newsweek or People Magazine, are not interested in tracing the soul’s trajectory at the moment of death. A huge eruption in sensibility having taken place in recent years, the traditional eschatological landscape remains largely unrecognizable.
"I certainly admire his example, and given the testimonies, is writings must generate sparks for many, many people. All good.[Hat tip to JM]
But he seems far closer to Thomas Merton than to Maximillian Kolbe, and theologically closer to a Karl Barth or Karl Rahner than a Karl Adam or a Karl Stern. I think the title of this piece would more fairly run, "A Man, a Christian, and a Martyr."