Wednesday, June 3, 2015

St. Peter and the Founding of the Church at Rome

Reading N°18 in the History of the Catholic Church

 by
 Fr. Fernand Mourret, S.S.

Saints Peter and Paul
El Greco (1541-1614)
While the hierarchical organization, the Christian life, and the symbol of faith were developing at Jerusalem and Antioch and in the Christian communities dependent upon those two centers, the Apostles and the missioners, under the direction of Peter and Paul, were widening the field of evangelical conquests. Peter, though continuing to watch over the Christian communities of Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia Minor, Bithynia, and Mesopotamia, founded the Church of Rome. Paul, after a journey across Asia Minor, also entered Europe and preached the glad tidings at Philippi, Thessalonica, Berea, Athens, and Corinth.

Of this new spread of Christianity and of all the expansion which followed, Rome was the center and remained such ever after: the capital of Greco-Roman civilization became the capital of the Christian world.

Christianity appeared to the earthly-minded and carnal Jewish world as a scandal; to the haughty and pleasure-loving pagan world it seemed foolish.[1] True, just when Peter was entering Rome, when Paul was addressing the Athenians on the Areopagus, the old pagan religion of Greece and Rome appeared to have received its death-blow. The Empire, under its protective administration, leveled the races it conquered; and at the same time deprived the old official cults, which incarnated the soul of the city and the State, of their chief strength. Pagan philosophy was popularized, and thus lost its prestige. Confidence in Plato was weakened no less than faith in Pallas Athene. In the great and woeful void produced about men's souls, from the Mediterranean shores to the Black Sea, a kind of religious ferment set in. The phrase "weariness of living" (taedium vitae) passed with Ulpian into the stern language of Roman law.[2]

The Roman Isis
Unfortunately, the place left vacant by the old traditional paganism was already taken. The ancient mystical cults of Hellas rose up again. From Egypt and eastern Asia, there came something like an invasion of strange, mysterious, seductive rites. Under Caligula, about A. D. 39, the worship of Isis became naturalized, so to speak, at Rome. After Isis, came Adonis and Aphrodite of Byblus, Elagabal of Emesa, the Baal of Doliche, and the celestial Virgin of Carthage, who drew crowds to their altars. They one and all prepared the way for that great Mithraic worship, that adoration of the sun god (Sol invictus), the last to hold out against the religion of Christ. These new cults had a more powerful sway over men's souls than did the ancient national cults. To a people enamored of festivities, they brought the emotions of their rollicking processions and their secret terrors. To souls homesick for the Infinite, they opened their mysteries, they offered a glimpse, in a blessed beyond, of some sort of intimate fusion with an ineffable divinity, all visible forces being merely its infinitely fertile and varied aspects.

We cannot say that the idea of perfection was entirely absent from this effort toward the purification which the new mysteries presupposed or which their followers were expected to acquire.[3] But this purification was chiefly external ritualistic; it left the heart untouched.[4] Some choice souls found in the legendary myths propagated by these religions an occasion for aspiring to a divine world. In reality, however, these myths were "the strangest and most indecent of all paganism."[5] While the public and secret ceremonies of the new religions, infested with magic and immorality, succeeded in inspiring the popular masses with nothing but the very lowest religious ideas, this great All-Infinite, which lofty minds conceive, yet wherein evil and ugliness have a place as essential as goodness and beauty, suggested to them the notion of a truly moral and supernatural life. In spite of outward similarities, which have been carefully collected and classified in vain,[6] the soul of that pagan world seemed essentially opposed to the spirit of the Gospel. The latter, therefore, did not hesitate to take its stand, knowingly and openly, as the enemy of all these religions; it ascribed their inspiration to the devil, and did not hide its intention of combating them everywhere, as one combats a mortal foe.

A certain clever writer has imagined a conversation between the Apostle Peter, reaching-Rome poor and ill-clad, and one of those idle Romans looking for news who were often to be met with at that time. The Galilean fisherman declares that he has neither gold nor silver, that he has spent a considerable part of his life fishing on a lake of his native country and mending his nets in order to gain a livelihood; that he now comes to preach a God who was put to death on a cross between two thieves; that he intends to introduce the worship of this God in place of the worship of devils and to spread it over the whole earth. The Roman shrugs his shoulders and goes his way, murmuring: "Poor fool."[7] Tacitus' and Suetonius' contemptuous way of speaking about the Christians makes such a dialogue seem not improbable.[8]

Early traditions relate that Peter came to Rome about the year 42, immediately after his miraculous deliverance from prison. These traditions appear likely. A number of very ancient Roman sarcophagi depict the imprisoned Apostle. It may be conjectured that the early Church of Rome wished thereby to represent the relation between St. Peter's imprisonment and his coming to the Eternal City. The Acts of the Apostles says that, after Peter was freed, "he went into another place."[9] Might not this other place be Rome?[10] Another argument has been drawn from a passage of Suetonius. The historian is speaking of Emperor Claudius' expulsion of the Jews from Rome; he says this measure was decided upon following a disturbance stirred up among these Jews by a certain Chrestus.[11] It would seem that he is confusing the founder of Christianity, Christ, whose name is slightly altered, and some important leader whose coming or residence in Rome gave a new impetus to the Christian propaganda. If this is not the Apostle Peter, to which of Christ's Apostles or disciples are we to attribute the honor of being mistaken for the Master?[12]

Upon reaching Rome, Peter must have been welcomed by more than one brother in the faith. Among the strangers in Jerusalem on Pentecost, baptized by St. Peter, St. Luke mentions inhabitants of Rome.[13] These converts, after returning home, no doubt related the wonders they had witnessed, and such of their compatriots as made the same Jerusalem pilgrimage in the following years could but confirm what the first converts had said about the new religion. There is every likelihood that some of these latter were also converted and in turn may have converted some Jews of Rome. In any case, in the Jewish quarters of Porta Capena, Campus Martius, Trastevere, and Subura, where the closely united children of Israel plied a variety of trades - cobblers, retailers of everyday articles, or high-class merchants whose fine shops[14] were frequented by the aristocracy - there must have been talk of the Galilean prophet, His death, His Resurrection, and the strange events that occurred on Pentecost.

It was in one of the poor quarters inhabited by the Jews that the Apostle lodged.[15] Having neither learning nor rank nor high social standing, he was probably not invited to speak in the synagogues, as later on happened to St. Paul, whose title of scribe would bring him this honor. The chief representative of Christ had to win souls one by one through informal conversations, testifying to all that compassion, love of the brotherhood, and indulgent charity accompanied with modesty and humility,[16] which he later recommended to his disciples. His first conquests were made among these poor, lowly people. Therefore, the philosophers of that time looked upon the Christians as "a collection of slaves, common laborers, and old women."[17]

St. Peter Preaching the Gospel in the Catacombs
Jan Styka (1858-1925)

Grouped about these Jews at Rome were a multitude of Orientals - Syrians, Egyptians, people of far-off Asia Minor - who were brought together by community of race and traditions. Among all of them the Messianic hope, more or less deformed, was very much alive. Says Suetonius: "There had spread over all the Orient an old and established belief that it was fated at that time for men coming from Judea to rule the world."[18] Some of these men must have given ear to Peter's words.

In the Roman world itself, the poor at least listened with delight to the words of peace, purity, and deliverance addressed to them by the Apostle. In this number were the slaves, those men without rights, without defense or standing, whom the Roman civil law treated as things. We hear, as it were, the echo of the Apostle's voice in this passage of his letter intended for them:
Servants, be subject to your masters with all fear, not only to the good and gentle, but also to the froward. For this is thankworthy, if for conscience towards God, a man endure sorrows, suffering wrongfully. For what glory is it if, committing sin and being buffeted for it, you endure? But if doing well you suffer patiently, this is thankworthy before God. For unto this are you called: Because Christ also suffered for us, leaving you an example that you should follow His steps. [...] By whose stripes you were healed.[19]
These poor slaves were, in very truth, among those to whom Peter addressed these astonishing words:
You are a chosen generation, a kingly priesthood, a holy nation, a purchased people; that you may declare His virtues, who hath called you out of darkness into His marvelous light.[20]
Little by little, there gathered around the Apostle, besides the poor and the slaves, a number of pagan women of less lowly station. Perhaps they were of the number of those matrons whom the Latin poet shows us coming, athirst for moral purification, to ask in the worship of Isis for numerous ablutions and endless penances, entering the cold waters of the Tiber three times every morning and crawling around the Campus Martius with bleeding knees.[21]

Christianity gradually ascended from the lower ranks of society to the higher. Tacitus relates that, about the year 43, a matron of the highest social rank, Pomponia Graecina, quit the world after the murder of her friend Julia (daughter of Drusus), who was a victim of Messalina's intrigues. "She lived to a great age and in unintermitted sorrow."[22] Finally, her unusual manner of life aroused suspicion. She was accused of "embracing a foreign superstition" and was consigned to the adjudication of her husband Plautius, a man of consular rank, one of the conquerors of Britain. He adjudged her innocent, and, says the Roman historian, her conduct "during the reign of Claudius escaped with impunity and redounded thereafter to her honor."[23] This passage of Tacitus for a long time led to the supposition that this high-born matron had become a follower of Christ. De Rossi's archeological discoveries in the crypts of Lucina - e.g., the inscription of one Pomponios Grekeinos, probably a nephew of this Pomponia Graecina - led him to surmise that the cemetery known as that of Lucina, one of the most ancient of Christian Rome, was the property of Pomponia Graecina herself.[24] The great Roman lady, as wretched in her luxurious surroundings as the slaves in their chains, sought peace in the doctrine preached by the Galilean fisherman.

Emperor Claudius (10BC-54AD)
Conversions of this sort were, however, very rare in the first half of the first century. About the year 51, when the Emperor Claudius, because of a Roman tumult for which a certain Chrestus was held to blame, "commanded all Jews to depart from Rome," as we learn from St. Luke,[25] the Christian community must have been very largely composed of poor Jews. This was not the first time that the civil power dispersed the Roman Jewry. As on previous occasions, the banishment of the Jews did not last long. When the tumult quieted down, they were allowed to return little by little.[26] In a few years, perhaps in a few months, the Roman Jewry was reestablished, and Christianity resumed its continuous spread at Rome.

Footnotes


[1] "Unto the Jews indeed a stumbling block, and unto the Gentiles foolishness." (1 Cor. 1:23).
[2] Justinian, Digest, XXVIII, iii, 6, 7.
[3] Cf. Foucart, Les grands mystères d'Eleusis, p. 110.
[4] Cf. Juvenal, Satires, VI, 519-595; St. Jerome, Ep. ad Laetam, 7.
[5] Boissier, La Religion romaine d'Auguste aux Antonins, II, 384.
[6] On these tactics and claims, see Allo, L'Évangile en face du syncrétisme païen. For our exposition, we have borrowed liberally from this work. On the moral and religious condition of the Greco-Roman world, valuable information will be found in J. P. Kirsch, Kirchengeschichte, Vol. I, Freiburg, 1930, pp. 49 ff.; cf. Döllinger, The Gentile and the Jew.
[7] Gerbert, Esquisse de Rome chrétienne, I, 14-17.
[8] Tacitus, Annals, XV, 44; Suetonius, Claudius, 25.
[9] Acts 12:17.
[10] Marucchi, Eléments d'archéologie chrétienne, I, 11.
[11] "Since the Jews constantly made disturbances at the instigation of Chrestus, he expelled them from Rome." (Suetonius, Claudius., 25). The name "Chrestus" was rather common at Rome among slaves and freedmen. To these two reasons we should add the testimony of ecclesiastical writers who, ever since St. Jerome, unanimously assign to St. Peter's pontificate a duration of twenty-five years, which they call "the years of Peter." It is true that some, as for instance the author of the catalogue of the popes (the Philocalian Calendar), place the beginning of these twenty-five years at Christ's Ascension, whereas others, such as pseudo-Ambrose (in his commentary on St. Paul, P. L., XVII, 45), begin the reckoning, not with St. Peter's coming to Rome, but with the foundation of the Roman community, and still others (e. g., Lactantius) declare that "during twenty-five years, and until the beginning of the reign of the Emperor Nero, they [the Apostles] occupied themselves in laying the foundations of the Church in every province and city. And while Nero reigned, the Apostle Peter came to Rome." (Lactantius, Death of the Persecutors, 2.) "None of these evidences goes back farther than the fourth century. But, since the Philocalian Calendar, insofar as it concerns the list of the popes, depends upon the Chronicle of St. Hippolytus, drawn up at Rome in 235, and as the latter depends upon earlier pontifical lists, we are led to believe that the twenty-five years of St. Peter were already set down in the episcopal lists of Rome toward the end of the second century. It is impossible to go farther back. Thus, early and independent testimonies give us the period of twenty-five years and connect it with St. Peter's apostolate; but this accord in the matter of the number of years ceases when we wish to know exactly to what that number applies." Duchesne, Les Origines chrétiennes, p. 28.
[12] Allard, Histoire des persécutions, I, 15.
[13] Acts 2:10.
[14] Martial, II, 17; V, 23; VI, 66; IX, 60; X, 87, etc.
[15] Probably in one of the lanes where the Jews of Trastevere and Porta Capena lived huddled together. Fouard, St. Peter and the First Years of Christianity, p. 344.
[16] Cf. 1 Pet. 3:8.
[17] Tatian, Address to the Greeks, 33; Minucius Felix, Octavius, 16; Origen, Against Celsus, I, 62.
[18] Suetonius, Vespasian, IV; Tacitus, History, V, 13.
[19] Cf. 1 Pet. 2:18-24.
[20] Ibidem, 2:9.
[21] Juvenal, VI, 522. Cf. Tibullus, I, 3, 23-32.
[22] Tacitus, Annals, XIII, 32.
[23] Ibid.
[24] De Rossi, Roma sotterranea, I, 306-315; Northecote, Roma Sotteranea, I, 124, and Allard, Histoire des persécutions, I, 24-27. Cf. Marucchi, Eléments d'archéologie chrétienne, p. 13.
[25] Acts 18:2.
[26] Allard, Hist. des pers., I, 18-22.


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Monday, June 1, 2015

Envy

Fourteenth in a Series on Catholic Morality

 by
 Fr. John H. Stapleton

Invidia (Envy)
Hieronymus Bosch
When envy catches a victim, she places an evil eye in his mind, gives him a cud to chew, and then sends him gadding.

If the mind's eye feeds upon one's own excellence for one's own satisfaction, that is pride; if it feeds upon the neighbor's good for one's own displeasure and unhappiness, that is envy. It is not alone this displeasure that makes envy, but the reason of this displeasure, that is, what the evil eye discerns in the neighbor's excellence, namely, a detriment, an obstacle to one's own success. It is not necessary that another's prosperity really work injury to our own; it is sufficient that the evil eye, through its discolored vision, perceive a prejudice therein. "Ah!" says envy, "he is happy, prosperous, esteemed! My chances are spoiled. I am overshadowed. I am nothing, he is everything. I am nothing because he is everything."

Remember that competition, emulation, rivalry are not necessarily envy. I dread to see my rival succeed. I am pained if he does succeed. But the cause of this annoyance and vexation is less his superiority than my inferiority. I regret my failure more than his success. Here is no evil eye; 'tis the sting of defeat that causes me pain. If I regret this or that man's elevation because I fear he will abuse his power, if I become indignant at the success of an unworthy person, I am not envious, because this superiority of another does not appear to me to be a prejudice to my standing. Whatever sin there is, there is no sin of envy.

We may safely assume that a person who would be saddened by the success of another, would not fail to rejoice at that other's misfortune. This is a grievous offense against charity, but it is not, properly speaking, envy, for envy is always sad; it is rather an effect of envy, a natural product thereof and a form of hatred.

This unnatural view of things which we qualify as the evil eye, is not a sin until it reaches the dignity of a sober judgment, for only then does it become a human act. Envy, like pride, anger, and the other vicious inclinations, may and often does crop out in our nature, momentarily, without our incurring guilt, if it is checked before it receives the acquiescence of the will, it is void of wrong, and only serves to remind us that we have a rich fund of malice in our nature capable of an abundant yield of iniquity.

After being born in the mind, envy passes to the feelings where it matures and furnishes that supply of misery which characterizes the vice. Another is happy at our expense; the sensation is a painful one, yet it has a diabolical fascination, and we fondle and caress it. We brood over our affliction to the embittering and souring of our souls. We swallow and regurgitate over and over again our dissatisfaction, and are aptly said to chew the cud of bitterness.

Out of such soil as this naturally springs a rank growth of uncharity and injustice in thought and desire. The mind and heart of envy are untrammeled by all bonds of moral law. It may think all evil of a rival and wish him all evil. He becomes an enemy, and finally he is hated. Envy points directly to hatred.

Lastly, envy is "a gadding passion, it walketh the street and does not keep home." It were better to say that it "talketh." There is nothing like language to relieve one's feelings; it is quieting and soothing, and envy has strong feelings. Hence, evil insinuations, detraction, slander, etc. Justice becomes an empty word and the seamless robe of charity is torn to shreds. As an agent of destruction, envy easily holds the palm of victory, for it commands the two strong passions of pride and anger, and they do its bidding.

People scarcely ever acknowledge themselves envious. It is such a base, unreasonable and unnatural vice. If we cannot rejoice with the neighbor, why be pained at his felicity? And what an insanity it is to imagine that in this wide world one cannot be happy without prejudicing the happiness of another! What a severe shock it would be to the discontented, the morosely sour, the cynic, and other human owls, to be told that they are victims of this green-eyed monster. They would confess to calumny, and hatred; but to envy, never!

Envy can only exist where there is abundant pride. It is a form of pride, a shape which it frequently assumes, because under this disguise it can penetrate everywhere without being as much as noticed. And it is so seldom detected that, wherever it gains entrance, it can hope to remain indefinitely.

Jealousy and envy are often confounded; yet they differ in that the latter looks on what is another's, while the former concerns itself with what is in one's own possession. I envy what is not mine; I am jealous of what is my own. Jealousy has a saddening influence upon us, by reason of a fear, more or less well grounded, that what we have will be taken from us. We foresee an injustice and resent it.

Kept within the limits of sane reason, jealousy is not wrong, for it is founded on the right we have to what is ours. It is in our nature to cling to what belongs to us, to regret being deprived of it, and to guard ourselves against injustice.

But when this fear is without cause, visionary, unreasonable, jealousy partakes of the nature and malice of envy. It is even more malignant a passion, and leads to greater disorders and crimes, for while envy is based on nothing at all, there is here a true foundation in the right of possession, and a motive in right to repel injustice.

Friday, May 29, 2015

The Bread of Life

Twelfth Conference on the Most Sacred Heart

 by
 Fr. Henry Brinkmeyer

It is an axiom admitted by all that love ever tends to union. This springs from the very nature of love; for love is nothing else than an effusion and an impulse of the heart by which it tends to the being loved. We naturally desire to be with those who are dear to us, and when we are obliged to separate from them, our inmost being seems, as it were, torn asunder, and tears in voluntarily spring to our eyes. And when again we meet dear friends from whom we have been long parted, when a mother, for example, meets her child who has been far away, does she not eagerly fly to clasp him to her bosom? Love, then, essentially tends to union, first of all to a spiritual union, though of actual presence. Consequently, since the Sacred Heart is consuming itself with love for man, it has devised a means to be united to man. Oh, how admirable are the artifices of Christ's love! Behold that union marvelously and sweetly effected in the Blessed Sacrament.

In receiving the Holy Eucharist, Jesus is united to us. That is the first effect and the first aim of Holy Communion. And that union is of the closest possible nature. No earthly alliance is comparable to it. Men may love one another on earth, but their souls are ever separated. Heart cannot melt into heart. But in the Holy Eucharist, there is nothing, absolutely nothing between the soul of Jesus and our own: our soul rests on His. The most intimate material connection known to us is that existing between us and our food. It becomes our flesh, our blood, our bone. It becomes part of the heart with which we love, and part of the brain with which we think. Similarly, in Holy Communion Jesus unites Himself so intimately to us that He lives in us and we in Him:
He who eateth My flesh and drinketh My blood, abideth in Me, and I in him.
But there is a vast difference: we absorb our food, it changes into us. The reverse takes place in Holy Communion; here, the stronger life absorbs the weaker, our being is transformed into His, not His into ours. I do not mean to say, however, that the substance of our soul is changed into His, but His life, His spirit, His virtues, His divine inclinations enter into our souls.
I live by the Father: he that eateth Me, the same shall also live by Me. 
The same shall live by Me. 
He who eateth My flesh [...] abideth, remaineth in Me.
These utterances indicate something more than a transitory, temporal union with Jesus. They point out a permanent union, a continued indwelling of our Lord in the soul that has eaten His flesh. How can this be, since it is certain that the Body and Blood of Jesus leave in a few moments after our reception of Holy Communion? Some theologians explain this by saying that even after the Body of our Lord disappears, which takes place as soon as the outward appearances of the bread undergo a change, that even then, though the Body is gone, His adorable soul remains and continues the real union which was contracted when we received the flesh and blood, the soul and the divinity of Jesus. Try to understand this, it is a most beautiful explanation of the words of our Lord:
He that eateth My flesh [...] abideth in Me and I in him.
And:
He that eateth Me, the same shall live by Me. 
And again, when we receive Holy Communion we receive the living flesh and blood, the human soul and the divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ. His flesh and blood are with us but a short time, a few minutes; for as soon as the species, that is, the appearances of bread are changed, the flesh and blood are no longer there. Yet, according to this teaching, the human soul of Jesus remains, and remains united to our soul in all reality. It penetrates into the depth of our being, it penetrates the deeper, the more fervent our Communion is, and it will not leave us entirely unless we fall into mortal sin. Our Divine Lord's blessed soul takes possession more and more of our whole nature, speaks with our lips, thinks with our brain, and moves in all our actions. In proportion as our old human life disappears before His influence, human views and feelings grow less, and the thoughts and desires of Jesus are substituted for them. Instead of the love of ease comes the thirst for suffering; instead of selfishness, a devoted zeal, instead of indifference, a tender piety like that of Jesus, who lives more and more completely within us, because our old self is dying beneath the Sacramental touch, and the word of Scripture is realized in us:
I live; no, not I, but Christ liveth in me.
This truth is beautifully illustrated by that old legend of the monk who, while our Lord was entertaining him with a gracious vision of Himself, heard the bell ring that called him to his appointed task. Duty's claim fulfilled, he returned to find his God awaiting him, not as the Holy Child, but as grown to man's estate. Thus had Jesus developed in the heart of the faithful monk, while he was performing the duty of the hour, and thus does He grow in us, and become, as it were, another Christ in our lives by His intimacy with our souls in the Holy Eucharist.

But even if the created soul of our Lord does not continue its actual presence, His graces do remain. How could he come and go without leaving a benediction on our lives? Even though He remains but a little while, He assuredly confers signal gifts upon the soul. And such is the doctrine of the Church: she teaches us, that besides the wonderful union of Jesus with our soul which Holy Communion effects, it moreover bestows special graces of its own. The Blessed Sacrament is indeed the chief fountain of grace. Other sacraments infuse grace into our souls, but in the Blessed Sacrament we possess Him who contains in Himself the source and the plenitude of all grace. I will not speak of the increase of sanctifying grace which Holy Communion, like every other sacrament, produces; that, I fear, would occupy too much time. But Holy Communion, like every other sacrament, has also a grace peculiar to itself, and which the other sacraments are not intended to confer. What is this special grace of the Blessed Sacrament? It is difficult to express it in a few words, yet a brief explanation may not prove useless.

We are supposed, when receiving Holy Communion, to be in the state of sanctifying grace, and Holy Communion augments this grace. But sanctifying grace is not enough; the soul must utilize it. A power is of no avail if allowed to remain inactive. A man may have great talents, a talent for painting, for music, for philosophy, for science, but of what profit are these gifts if not exercised because of his negligence, sloth, or other passions? He must stimulate himself to action, then he will derive benefit from them. In like manner, sanctifying grace may reach immense heights in our souls, but if it remain dormant, it will prove almost fruitless; and, indeed, we incur imminent risk of losing it forever. Hence, sanctifying grace with its attendant virtues must be stimulated to exercise by actual grace. 

What then is the actual grace given us in Holy Communion? The actual grace given us in Holy Communion is precisely the causing of habitual charity to break out into actual charity; like a fire fallen from heaven, it kindles into a bright flame the sanctifying grace which lies, as it were, like unconsumed fuel in the bottom of our souls. It makes our cold hearts burn with an unwonted fervor, which may be very brief, yet none the less real. We are able to sur mount obstacles that before we could not overcome; sometimes things appear easy which but lately seemed impossible to our sluggish, cowardly nature; occasionally even a sudden gush of feeling may spring up in our hearts so as to cause us to break out into acts of love, and to impel us to generous resolutions. All this does not come from ourselves. It comes from Jesus within us, it is the actual grace of Holy Communion.

At times we feel spiritually refreshed, a kind of sweetness and holy joy embalms our souls; we experience anew a relish for heavenly things, we arm ourselves once more for the stern battle of life. What is all this but the unction of actual grace? The poor sinner who commits deeds for which he hates himself, who has so keen a sense of the beauty of virtue and of the degradation of guilt, yet ever follows a course that fills him with bitterest remorse, who painfully feels the shame of sin, until he is driven to the verge of despair, that poor sinner kneels again and again at the altar to receive his God. This perseverance in drinking at the fountain of grace will gradually but surely cool down the blighting fever of sin; evil images and tendencies will depart from his mind, slowly his falls become less frequent and less weakening; in the most awful temptations he will sometimes be victorious. Spiritual joy, so long a stranger, at last dawns upon his soul, habits of vice are uprooted, contrary habits of virtue are established, and, thank God, that sinner falls no more! Again, what is all this but the actual grace conferred by Jesus in Holy Communion?

Oh, how wrong are they who deprecate the frequent reception of Holy Communion! How many sinners, groping in darkness, would turn to paths of virtue if they were encouraged to kneel often at the table of the Lord! How many souls there are who ought to communicate frequently, yet who refrain from approaching our Lord because they do not understand the nature of love, and have erroneous ideas concerning the effects of this Sacrament! Oh, the Sacred Heart of Jesus is burning with love, it is intensely longing to enter the hearts of creatures.
With desire I have desired to eat this Pasch with you.
Why, then, refuse to give Him entrance into our hearts and the hearts of others?

Absolutely speaking, no creature is worthy to receive Him. Even the angels are not pure in His sight. But He is willing to come to every one whose soul is not dead in mortal sin, and whose heart makes fitting preparation to receive Him. The confessor, of course, will judge how often it is expedient for us to eat the Bread of Life; he will discern whether our preparation be reasonably sufficient to justify our approach to the Lord's banquet table. All should, however, remember that weekly communion is not frequent communion. Every adult Christian who is sincerely desirous of avoiding mortal sin or who is laboring to correct the criminal habits he has contracted, may once a week, partake of the food of the strong and drink the wine that germinates virgins.
Except you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you shall not have life in you.
Let the sinner, the worldling, the imperfect, the child approach Him. He loves them unutterably! Let them receive Him often, the oftener the better, if they have but the approbation of the guides of their souls. The road they have to traverse is so difficult, their daily occupations so absorbing, their temptations so intense, their faults so numerous, how shall they ever reach the goal except in the strength of a Bread Divine?
Arise and eat: for thou hast yet a great way to go.
As the living Father hath sent Me, and I live by the Father, so he that eateth Me, the same shall also live by Me.

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Piarum Aurium Haeresi Proxima?

A few days ago, Pope Francis recorded a statement addressing an ecumenical gathering of Protestants held in Pheonix, Arizona, to which the Holy Father had been invited but which he did not attend. In that statement (the whole of which can be read here), Pope Francis made the following remark:
I feel like saying something that may sound controversial, or even heretical, perhaps.
The original Spanish, which is even clearer, reads:
Y me viene a la mente decir algo que puede ser una insensatez, o quizás una herejía, no sé.
That is, "something that might be folly, or perhaps a heresy, I don't know."

Let me preface what I'm about to say by noting that I do not want to spread scandal among my fellow Catholics. I don't comb through the Pope's speeches and homilies looking for ambiguous turns of phrase which could be used to foment discontent among the laity. I try to assume good faith whenever and wherever possible. But there comes a point at which to fail to object to something wholly objectionable becomes indistinguishable from condoning it. Besides, if you're not thoroughly scandalized by what you've read already, chances are good that any scandal arising in you due to what follows will be of an ill-placed sort to which I feel no need to cater.

With that being said, let's see what one of the most prolific papal apologists today, Mr. Jimmy Akin, has to offer in the way of a hermeneutical key for unlocking the intent behind this particular statement.

According to Mr. Akin, the Pope chose these words because he is introducing a thought which might be "unfamiliar" to many of his listeners. That is, says Akin, the Pope is employing "a touch of hyperbole, or exaggeration, to make a point." And what is that point? That real unity already exists between Christians on the basis of their shared enemy, i.e. the devil - an ecumenism of archfiendery, if you will. A novelty, to be sure, but nothing which is incapable of being reconciled with the Magisterium of the last 50 years. Taking this into account, Akin reaches the following rather soothing verdict: "Properly speaking, his proposal not only isn't heretical, it doesn’t even sound heretical."

Really?

First, the Spanish language offers a range of words to describe something as being unfamiliar, novel, startling or even shocking. The word "heresy" would not, I imagine, top anyone's list of suitable synonyms.

Second, the recipients of this message are Protestants. What part of "the devil hates all Christians" is "unfamiliar" to Protestants, so as to require the use of "exaggeration" to make the point? Remember that these Protestants invited the Pope to join them in prayer, so it's not as though they need to be shocked into the realization that Catholics are Christians.

Third, it's obvious that the Pope is using the term "heresy" to intensify or maximize what he has already described as smacking of "folly", namely, the notion that real unity already exists between Christians on the basis of their shared enemy. In other words, if "folly" is bad, Pope Francis is telling us that what he is about to say is doubleplusbad.

Fourth, the Pope knows that the error of which his statement smacks, i.e. religious indifferentism, has been formally condemned as such on numerous occasions (Qui pluribus, 1846; Noscitis, 1849; Multiplices inter, 1851; Maxima quidem, 1862; Quanto conficiamur, 1863).

Fifth, granting that the Pope is employing the term hyperbolically, he can intend to communicate to his listeners nothing less than that what he is about to say will likely offend pious ears.

Sixth, in order to claim that the statement doesn't smack of heresy, one has to contradict the explicit admission on the part of the Pope that his statement smacks of heresy. That is, the Pope himself says that the statement has an air of heresy about it, so to interpret his statement in any way so as to remove this heretical taint is to give a meaning to the Pope's words which he himself clearly does not intend to give them.

Sorry, Jimmy. It just doesn't wash.

The inescapable fact is that no Pope has ever spoken like this before, because this is not how Popes speak.

Popes do not preface a statement with, "This might come off as heretical, but...," or "This might be offensive to pious ears, but...."

Popes do not speak in this manner because there is no other way to interpret such words than as a preface to a public profession of a sentiment worthy of at least theological, if not canonical, censure.

To quote Mr. Patrick Archbold: Make of that what you will.

Religion Overthrowing Heresy and Hatred
Pierre Le Gros the Younger (1666-1719)

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

The Church of the Late First Century: Morality and Dogma

Reading N°17 in the History of the Catholic Church

 by
 Fr. Fernand Mourret, S.S.


The fact that the Church of the late first century was often surrounded by a pagan Gentile culture helps to explain the form in which the Didache sets forth the Christian moral teaching. Some scholars have thought this teaching contained traces of Montanism and Encratism.[1] But an unbiased examination of it reveals nothing more than a stern asceticism, justified by the need of warning Christians against infiltrations from the surrounding paganism. "Thou shalt not commit fornication; thou shalt not steal; thou shalt not use magic; thou shalt not use philtres [magic potions]; thou shalt not procure abortion, nor commit infanticide."[2] "Regard not omens, for this leads to idolatry; neither be an enchanter nor an astrologer nor a magician, neither wish to see these things, for from them all is idolatry engendered."[3] Such commands evoke that whole pagan world where voluptuousness, cruelty, and superstition had almost unbridled sway and met the gaze at every turn.[4] "Be not one who stretches out his hands to receive, but shuts them when it comes to giving[5] ...for the Father's will is that we give to all from the gifts we have received."[6] As for the poor, "provide for him according to your understanding, so that no man shall live among you in idleness because he is a Christian."[7] "If he has a craft, let him work for his bread."[8] "If he will not do so, he is making traffic of Christ; beware of such."[9] By such firm and prudent words, a remedy is pointed out for the ills that afflict this Gentile world, which Christianity is entering for the first time. The helpfulness of labor has never found more earnest advocates than the first Christians.

As we might expect, a statement of Christian morality at that period does not neglect the important question of family duties. "Thou shalt not withhold thine hand from thy son or from thy daughter, but thou shalt teach them the fear of God from their youth up."[10] Beyond the family circle, there is a sort of enlarged family, including the servants. A Christian will be mild toward his servants. "Thou shalt not command in thy bitterness thy slave or thine handmaid [...] lest they cease to fear the God who is over you both; for he comes not to call men with respect of persons, but those whom the Spirit has prepared."[11] A Christian's mildness, inseparable from the spirit of firm justice, will extend to all men. "Thou shalt not desire a schism, but shalt reconcile those that strive. Thou shalt give righteous judgment; thou shalt favor no man's person in reproving transgression."[12] A Christian should go still farther toward those who are his brethren in Jesus Christ. He should hold himself ever ready to place his personal belongings at their service, for "if you are sharers in the imperishable, how much more in the things which perish?"[13]

Such are the chief precepts of individual and social morality that we find in The Doctrine of the Twelve Apostles. A general commandment inspires them and dominates them all: love of God and love of neighbor. It is impressive to see how insistently the author of this little book repeats this commandment and inserts it in the midst of his particular precepts. "First, thou shalt love the God who made thee, secondly, thy neighbor as thyself."[14] "Bless those that curse you, and pray for your enemies, and fast for those that persecute you."[15] "Thou shalt hate no man.[16] "Be thou long-suffering and merciful and guileless and quiet and good."[17] The most expressive and complete symbol of love is found in the Eucharist. "Concerning the Eucharist, hold Eucharist thus. [...] As this broken bread was scattered upon the mountains, but was brought together and became one, so let Thy Church be gathered together from the ends of the earth into Thy kingdom."[18] Lastly, this love, which is recommended as the principle of all, is not a vague private sentiment. It does not dispense with obedience to the hierarchical authority and faithfulness to the teaching received by tradition. "My child, thou shalt remember, day and night, him who speaks the word of God to thee, and thou shalt honor him as the Lord."[19] "See that no one make thee to err from this way of the teaching, for he teaches thee without God."[20]

The teaching here spoken of seems to be especially the moral doctrine we have just set forth; but this is closely connected with a dogmatic teaching that is expressly recalled by the Didache. This dogmatic teaching is of the simplest and, at first glance, appears to lack originality. But a close examination shows that its originality and interest consist precisely in this, that it takes its phrases almost word for word from the Old and New Testament and gives us a symbol of faith essentially identical with that of the Church today. Men sometimes try to point out a contrast between the "grand gesture" of the Gospel and the "scholastic formulary" of Catholicism; the natural connection between the two is found in the Didache. The following is a summary of its dogmatic teaching.

God is in three persons, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.[21] He is the heavenly Father,[22] the Creator,[23] and almighty. Nothing happens in the world without Him,[24] and to Him belongs eternal glory through our Lord Jesus Christ.[25]

Jesus Christ is our Lord and Savior,[26] the Son of God.[27] He speaks in the Gospel, He is spiritually present in His Church, and He will come again visibly on judgment day.

The Holy Ghost is God with the Father and the Son.[28] He has spoken by the mouth of the prophets and He prepares man for the divine call.[29]

The Church of God is universal, and every man is called to belong to it.[30] It has been sanctified by God, freed from all evil, and prepared by the eternal kingdom.[31]

The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles naturally echoed the great and mysterious expectancy of the kingdom of God, which solaced men after the Savior's death and in which the thought of each one's preparation for death, "which comes like a thief," the prediction of the destruction of Jerusalem and of the last judgment, and the ancient Messianic hopes of the Jewish people, more or less transposed and spiritualized, are mixed together in a way that is sometimes curious.[32] The Didache stresses the necessity of watching, of not letting the lamps go out, of having the loins girt, in a word, of being always ready. In this it does but repeat the teaching of Christ. It speaks of the signs that will accompany the parousia, or second coming of the Son of God: the increase of false prophets, the darkening of the heavens, the sound of the trumpet, and the resurrection of the dead.[33] These, too, are merely the recalling of Christ's words.[34] Like Christ, it declares, "ye know not the hour in which our Lord cometh."[35] Like Him, it is concerned with the founding of the Church upon a solid hierarchy. Nowhere in this devout writing do we observe that feverish expectancy of a proximate end of the world, destructive of all authority[36] and serving as the principal basis for Christian renunciation, which, we are sometimes told, existed at the beginning of Christianity.[37] These Christians, whose religion is nourished by the thought of the mysterious parousia, are of the number of those whose faith nothing will shake, neither the tragic death of the bishop of Jerusalem nor the destruction of Jerusalem itself.

Footnotes


[1] These heresies of the second century will be discussed infra.
[2] Didache, II, 2.
[3] Ibidem, III, 4.
[4] We know how indulgently the most famous philosophers spoke of the loosest morality, and how the most serious Greek philosopher sanctioned the exposing and destruction of infants. (Cf. Aristotle, Politica, bk. 4, chap. 16.)
[5] Didache, IV, 5.
[6] Ibidem, I, 5.
[7] Ibidem, XII, 4.
[8] Ibidem, XII, 3.
[9] Ibidem, XII, 5.
[10] Ibidem, IV, 9.
[11] Ibidem, IV, 10.
[12] Ibidem, IV, 3.
[13] Ibidem, IV, 8. It is sometimes asked whether this passage did not prescribe a real community of possessions. That it did not seems beyond doubt. A real community of goods was never obligatory, even at Jerusalem, where St. James supposes the existence of rich and poor (3:1-9; 5:1-5). It lasted but a short time, and did not exist elsewhere.
[14] Ibidem, I, 2.
[15] Ibidem, I, 3.
[16] Ibidem, II, 7.
[17] Ibidem, III, 8.
[18] Ibidem, IX, 4.
[19] Ibidem, IV, 1.
[20] Ibidem, VI, 1.
[21] Ibidem, VII, 1.
[22] Ibidem, VIII, 2.
[23] Ibidem, I, 2.
[24] Ibidem, III, 10.
[25] Ibidem, VIII, 2; IX, 4; X, 4.
[26] Ibidem, X, 2.
[27] Ibidem, XVI.
[28] Ibidem, VII, 3.
[29] Ibidem, IV, 10.
[30] Ibidem, X, 5.
[31] Ibidem, IX, 4; X, 5.
[32] On the formation and characteristics of the eschatological hope in Israel and in Christian times, see Labauche, Leçons de théologie dogmatique, II, 347-393, and Lemonnyer, art. "Fin du monde," in the Dict. apol. de la foi catholique.
[33] Didache, XVI, 1-8.
[34] Similar expressions are to be found in the prophets, in their malediction of certain kingdoms whose downfall they predicted. (Cf. Ezech. 32:7 f.; 38:20.)
[35] Didache, XVI, 1.
[36] Sabatier, Religions of Authority and the Religion of the Spirit, p. 23.
[37] This is the error maintained by Loisy in The Gospel and the Church, and in Autour d'un petit livre.



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Monday, May 25, 2015

Gluttony

Thirteenth in a Series on Catholic Morality

 by
 Fr. John H. Stapleton

Gula (Gluttony)
Hieronymus Bosch
Self-preservation is nature's first law, and the first and essential means of preserving one's existence is the taking of food and drink sufficient to nourish the body, sustain its strength and repair the forces thereof weakened by labor, fatigue or illness. God, as well as nature, obliges us to care for our bodily health, in order that the spirit within may work out on earth the end of its being.

Being purely animal, this necessity is not the noblest and most elevating characteristic of our nature. Nor is it, in its imperious and unrelenting requirements, far removed from a species of tyranny. A kind Providence, however, by lending taste, savor and delectability to our aliments, makes us find pleasure in what otherwise would be repugnant and insufferably monotonous.

An appetite is a good and excellent thing. To eat and drink with relish and satisfaction is a sign of good health, one of the precious boons of nature. And the tendency to satisfy this appetite, far from being sinful, is wholly in keeping with the divine plan, and is necessary for a fulsome benefiting of the nourishment we take.

On the other hand, the digestive organism of the body is such a delicate and finely adjusted piece of mechanism that any excess is liable to clog its workings and put it out of order. It is made for sufficiency alone. Nature never intended man to be a glutton; and she seldom fails to retaliate and avenge excesses by pain, disease and death.

This fact, coupled with the grossness of the vice of gluttony, makes it happily rare, at least in its most repulsive form; for, be it said, it is here a question of the excessive use of ordinary food and drink, and not of intoxicants to which latter form of gluttony we shall pay our respects later.

The rich are more liable than the poor to sin by gluttony; but gluttony is fatal to longevity, and they who enjoy life best desire to live longest. 'Tis true, physicians claim that a large portion of diseases are due to over-eating and over-drinking; but it must be admitted that this is through ignorance rather than malice. So that this passion can hardly be said to be commonly yielded to, at least to the extent of grievous offending.

Naturally, the degree of excess in eating and drinking is to be measured according to age, temperament, condition of life, etc. The term gluttony is relative. What would be a sin for one person might be permitted as lawful to another. One man might starve on what would constitute a sufficiency for more than one. Then again, not only the quantity, but the quality, time and manner, enter for something in determining just where excess begins. It is difficult therefore, and it is impossible, to lay down a general rule that will fit all cases.

It is evident, however, that he is mortally guilty who is so far buried in the flesh as to make eating and drinking the sole end of life, who makes a god of his stomach. Nor is it necessary to mention certain unmentionable excesses such as were practiced by the degenerate Romans towards the fall of the Empire. It would likewise be a grievous sin of gluttony to put the satisfaction of one's appetite before the law of the Church and violate wantonly the precepts of fasting and abstinence.

And are there no sins of gluttony besides these? Yes, and three rules may be laid down, the application of which to each particular case will reveal the malice of the individual. Overwrought attachment to satisfactions of the palate, betrayed by constant thinking of viands and pleasures of the table, and by avidity in taking nourishment, betokens a dangerous, if not a positively sinful, degree of sensuality. Then, to continue eating or drinking after the appetite is appeased, is in itself an excess, and mortal sin may be committed even without going to the last extreme. Lastly, it is easy to yield inordinately to this passion by attaching undue importance to the quality of our victuals, seeking after delicacies that do not become our rank, and catering to an over-refined palate. The evil of all this consists in that we seem to eat and drink, if we do not in fact eat and drink, to satisfy our sensuality first, and to nourish our bodies afterwards; and this is contrary to the law of nature.

We seemed to insist from the beginning that this is not a very dangerous or common practice. Yet there must be a hidden and especial malice in it. Else why is fasting and abstinence - two correctives of gluttony - so much in honor and so universally recommended and commanded in the Church? Counting three weeks in Advent, seven in Lent and three Ember days four times a year, we have, without mentioning fifty-two Fridays, thirteen weeks or one-fourth of the year by order devoted to a practical warfare on gluttony. No other vice receives the honor of such systematic and uncompromising resistance. The enemy must be worthy.

As a matter of fact, there lies under all this a great moral principle of Christian philosophy. This philosophy sought out and found the cause and seat of all evil to be in the flesh. The forces of sin reside in the flesh while the powers of righteousness - faith, reason and will - are in the spirit. The real issue of life is between these forces contending for supremacy. The spirit should rule; that is the order of our being. But the flesh revolts and, by ensnaring the will, endeavors to dominate over the spirit.

Now, it stands to reason that the only way for the superior part to succeed is to weaken the inferior part. Just as prayer and the grace of the sacraments fortify the soul, so do food and drink nourish the animal; and if the latter is cared for to the detriment of the soul, it waxes strong and formidable and becomes a menace.

The only resource for the soul is then to cut off the supply that benefits the flesh and strengthen herself thereby. She acts like a wise engineer who keeps the explosive and dangerous force of his locomotive within the limit by reducing the quantity of food he throws into its stomach. Thus the passions being weakened become docile, and are easily held under sway by the power that is destined to govern, and sin is thus rendered morally impossible.

It is gluttony that furnishes the passion of the flesh with fuel by feeding the animal too well; and herein lies the great danger and malice of this vice. The evil of a slight excess may not be great in itself; but that evil is great in its consequences. Little over-indulgences imperceptibly, but none the less surely, strengthen the flesh against the spirit, and when the temptation comes the spirit will be overcome. The ruse of the saints was to starve the enemy.

Sunday, May 24, 2015

Dominica Pentecostes

Pentecost
El Greco (1541-1614)

Deus qui hodierna die corda fidelium sancti spiritus illustratione docuisti: da nobis in eodem spiritu recta sapere, et de eius semper consolatione gaudere.

O God, who on this day hadst taught the hearts of Thy faithful by the light of the Holy Ghost, grant us by the same Spirit to have a right judgment in all things and ever to rejoice in His consolation.