Wednesday, July 15, 2015

The Composition of the Synoptic Gospels

Reading N°24 in the History of the Catholic Church

 by
 Fr. Fernand Mourret, S.S.


When St. Paul spoke of the Church as "the pillar and ground of the truth"[1] possessing the deposit of faith, the Christians had long known where to find that of which he spoke. They had first sought it and found it in the preaching of the "witnesses of Christ," of those who had received instruction from His immediate hearers. The venerable Papias, "the hearer of John, who was a companion of Polycarp and one of the ancients," mentioned by St. Irenaeus,[2] declared that his whole care had ever been to inquire "into the words of the presbyters, what Andrew or Peter or Thomas or James or John or Matthew or any other of the Lord's disciples, had said." And we are struck by Papias' expression of the rule of faith in that early day. He says:
For I did not suppose that information from books would help me so much as the word of a living and surviving voice.[3]
Now, Papias tells us that he learned from his master, "John the Ancient," that Peter's preaching was put in writing by one of his disciples, Mark. The precious fragment containing this information is so important that it deserves to be quoted in full.
And the Presbyter [John] used to say this, 'Mark became Peter's interpreter and wrote accurately all that he remembered, not, indeed, in order, of the things said or done by the Lord. For he had not heard the Lord, nor had he followed Him, but later on, as I said, followed Peter, who used to give teaching as necessity demanded but not making, as it were, an arrangement of the Lord's oracles, so that Mark did nothing wrong in thus writing down single points as he remembered them. For to one thing he gave attention: to leave out nothing of what he had heard and to make no false statements in them.[4]
As we read these lines, we seem to be witnessing the process by which St. Mark's Gospel was written. Papias says further that:
Matthew collected the oracles in the Hebrew language, and each interpreted them as best he could.[5]
From the prologue of the Third Gospel, we know that the author, Luke, a disciple of St. Paul, undertook to write the history of Jesus in chronological order, which the aged witness of those times states was absent from St. Mark's. Here, then, we have the whole story of the composition of the three Synoptic Gospels. As to the date of their composition, that seems fixed thereby. The appearance of the three Gospels preceded the appearance of the Acts of the Apostles, and the latter, written by St. Luke, was published about 62 or 64; therefore this date seems the latest that can be assigned for the composition of the three Synoptics.[6]

Shortly afterwards, we see another collection being formed, that of the Catholic Epistles, i.e., letters addressed to the whole Church. Into this collection was admitted a greater or lesser number of Epistles, according to local differences. Finally, seven came to be agreed upon by all. These seven letters are the three Epistles of St. John, the two of St. Peter, that of St. Jude, and that of St. James. By the addition of St. John's Gospel and his Apocalypse, of which we shall speak shortly, the canon, that is, the official list of the books of the New Testament, became fixed; the Christian Bible was thus complete.[7]

Later on, the Church was to proclaim the authenticity of these collections. On all sides, Christians were eager to fix upon the accounts of the ancients, to gather their teachings. St. Luke, at the beginning of his Gospel, refers to an abundant literary growth. This subsequently increased still more. The apocryphal gospels - the name given to those histories of Jesus which the Church rejected from her canon - at times had the childish character of popular legends, or the perverse tendency of heresy. A mere comparison of their fanciful and fabricated narratives with the serious and religious soberness of the canonical Gospels is enough to show the genuineness of the latter. It is true that each of the authors adopted by the Church has his own style and a definite aim. St. Matthew's style is simple, uniform, and unstudied; and it is evident that his aim is to show his compatriots, the Christians of Palestine, the fulfilment of the prophecies in Christ. St. Mark is animated, picturesque, and always has in mind the Roman world; by the narration of our Lord's many miracles, he wishes to impress upon that world the almighty power of God. St. Luke's narrative reveals a literary culture superior to that of his predecessors, and his purpose to spread the catholic ideas of his teacher, St. Paul.

But the three writings resemble one another in their lifelike and precise character. The image that rises in the mind of one who reads these gospels is that of all Galilee and Judea before the destruction of Jerusalem. Skeptical Sadducees, hypocritical Pharisees, the timid disciples of Jesus, all these pass along one after the other on the shore of that Lake Tiberias so colorful with its population of fishermen, on those roads that are burned by the hot sun, through the ripening harvests, and in that great city of Jerusalem where scribes carry on their discussions in the Temple porticoes. The portrait of Jesus traced by these unlettered writers is so utterly inimitable that the cry wrung from the unbelieving philosopher will ever issue from the lips of whoever reads these gospels with a sincere and upright heart. Their words speak to the heart, and if they were the work of invention, their contrivers would be more astounding than is the hero.[8]

Footnotes


[1] cf. 1 Tim. 3:15.
[2] Eusebius, III, xxxix, 1.
[3] Ibidiem, no. 4.
[4] Ibidem, no. 15.
[5] Ibidem, no. 16.
[6] See Batiffol, Orpheus et l'Evangile, p. 132. Harnack (Die Apostelgeschichte, p. 22) holds the same view as we have just set forth. Some Catholic authors, basing their conclusions on a text of St. Irenaeus (Haereses, bk. 3, chap. 1), prefer placing the writing of St. Mark's and St. Luke's Gospels after the martyrdom of St. Peter and St. Paul. But that passage is a mutilated text and has not the meaning supposed, as Cornely proves in his Introductio ad Novum Testamentum, III, 76-78.
[7] On the formation of the canon of the New Testament, see Batiffol, Orpheus et l'Evangile, pp. 55-80.
[8] Cf. Rousseau, Emile, in Œuvres (Didot ed.), II, 597. As to the order in which the three Gospels were written, Lebreton thus sums up the latest critical conclusions, which simply return to the traditional positions: "The primitive catechesis is embodied in the Aramaic Gospel of St. Matthew and, in Greek, in St. Peter's preaching. This latter was followed by St. Mark, while St. Matthew's collection is preserved in St. Luke's Gospel, and more exactly in the Greek Gospel of St. Matthew. These two other gospels thus utilize St. Mark's narrative and a few secondary sources." (Lebreton, "Les Evangiles synoptiques," in the Recherches des sciences religieuses, 1910, p. 505; cf. Stanton, The Gospels as Historical Documents, Part II.)

***

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Monday, July 13, 2015

Love of God

Twentieth in a Series on Catholic Morality

 by
 Fr. John H. Stapleton

Once upon a time there lived people who pretended that nothing had existence outside the mind, that objects were merely fictions of the brain; thus, when they gave a name to those objects, it was like sticking a label in the air where they seemed to be. The world is not without folks who have similar ideas concerning charity, to whom it is a name without substance. Scarcely a Christian but will pretend that he has the virtue of charity, and of course one must take his word for it, and leave his actions and conduct out of all consideration. With him, to love God is to say you do, whether you really do or not. This is charity of the "sounding brass and tinkling cymbal" assortment.

To be honest about it, charity or love of God is nothing more or less, practically, than freedom from, and avoidance of, mortal sin. The state of grace is the first, fundamental, and essential condition to the existence of charity. Charity and mortal sin are two things irreducibly opposed, uncompromisingly antagonistic, eternally inimical. There is no true charity where there is sin; there is no sin where there is true charity. That is why charity is called the fulfillment of the law.

On the other hand, it sometimes happens that humble folks of the world, striving against temptation and sin to serve the Master, imagine they can hardly succeed. True, they rarely offend and to no great extent of malice, but they envy the lot of others more advantageously situated, they think, nearer by talent and state to perfection, basking in the sunshine of God's love. Talent, position, much exterior activity, much supposed goodness, are, in their eyes, titles to the kingdom, and infallible signs of charity. And then they foolishly deplore their own state as far removed from that perfection, because forsooth their minds are uncultured, their faith simple, and their time taken up with the drudgery of life.

They forget that not this gift or that work or anything else is necessary. One thing alone is necessary, and that is practical love of God. Nothing counts without it. And the sage over his books, the wonder-worker at his task, the apostle in his wanderings and labors, the very martyr on the rack is no more sure of having charity than the most humble man, woman or child in the lowest walks of life who loves God too much to offend Him. It is not necessary to have the tongues of men and angels, or faith that will move mountains, or the fortitude of martyrs; charity expressed in our lives and deeds rates higher than these.

A thing is good in the eyes of its maker if it accomplishes that for which it was made. A watch that does not tell time, a knife that does not cut, and a soul that does not love God are three utterly useless things. And why? Because they are no good for what they were made. The watch exists solely to tell the hour, the blade to cut and the soul to love and serve its Maker. Failing in this, there is no more reason for their being. Their utility ceasing, they themselves cease to exist to a certain extent, for a thing is really no longer what it was when it fails to execute that for which it came into being.

Charity, in a word, amounts to this: that we love God, but to the extent of not offending Him. Anything that falls short of such affection is something other than charity, no matter how many tags and labels it may wear. If I beheld a brute strike down an aged parent, I would not for a moment think that affection was behind that blow; and I could not conceive how there could be a spark of filial love in that son's heart until he had atoned for his crime. But love is not one thing when directed towards God, and another where man is concerned.

The great hypocrisy of life consists in this: that people make an outward showing of loving God, because they know full well that it is their first duty; yet, for all that, they do not a whit mend their ways, and to sin costs them nothing. They varnish it over with an appearance of honesty and decency, and fair-minded men take them for what they appear to be, and should be, and they pass for such. These watches are pretty to look upon, beautiful, magnificent, but they are stopped, the interior is out of order, the main-spring is broken, the hands that run across the face lie. These blades are bright and handsome, but they are dull, blunt, full of nicks, good enough for coarse and vulgar work, but useless for the fine, delicate work for which they were made.

The master mechanic and artist of our souls, who wants trustworthy timepieces and keen blades, will not be deceived by these gaudy trinkets, and will reject them. Others may esteem you for this or that quality, admire this or that qualification you possess, be taken with their superficial gloss and accidental usefulness. The quality required by Him who made you is that your soul be filled with charity, and proven by absence of sin.

Friday, July 10, 2015

The Application of Christ's Salvation

Eighteenth Conference on the Most Sacred Heart

 by
 Fr. Henry Brinkmeyer

Our Lord's satisfaction was perfect; He atoned for all sins. He suffered for all men. Yet, despite the fullness of His atonement, all men are not forgiven, and, even when sin is forgiven, reparation frequently remains due. Christ's satisfaction, then, must be applied to men in certain ways, under certain conditions. The Holy Scripture renders ample testimony to the truth of this teaching.

In his epistle to the Ephesians (1:23) and again in that to the Colossians, Saint Paul touches upon a profound mystery. He says that the Church is a mystical body of which we are the members, but Christ is the Head, and the Holy Ghost the Soul of that body. The life of the Head becomes the life of the members, and it is the Holy Ghost who transmits to the members this life of the Head, its virtues, its powers, its merits, its graces. The members do not live and cannot live except by reason of the Head, just as the branches cannot live and bear fruit except by reason of the vine and its sap. "Without Me you can do nothing," says our blessed Saviour.

Observe, however, that immediately after comparing the Church to a perfect organism, Saint Paul lays down this other truth: that the members must labor in union with the Head for the growth of the whole body. These are his words:
By doing the truth in charity, we may in all things grow up in Him who is the head, Christ; from whom the whole body being compacted and fitly joined together, by what every joint supplieth, according to the operation in the measure of every part, maketh increase of the body unto the edifying of itself in charity.
Faith without good works is dead and of no avail; it must be a living faith. The just man liveth by faith. And if, after being justified, he falls into sin, he must repent of his sin and acknowledge it in the tribunal of penance, otherwise life will not be returned to his soul. That is to say, each member of that mystical body must participate in the life of its Head. Jesus prayed, man too must pray; Jesus labored, man too must labor. Ordinarily speaking, on adults the graces of the sacraments will not be bestowed, unless the recipient does his share by way of preparation. Jesus did penance, man too must do works of penance. 
Unless you do penance, you shall all likewise perish.
Jesus denied Himself; man, too, must deny himself. Jesus suffered; man, too, must suffer.
If any man will come after Me, let him take up his cross daily, and follow Me.
But must this be voluntary suffering? That is, must every Christian of his own accord, inflict some species of pain upon himself? It is sufficiently evident that we must practice self-denial in order to fortify our souls for temptations, that we must separate ourselves from occasions of sin, that we must fulfill the various duties of our state of life, that we must observe the laws of the Church and of all duly appointed authority, that we must accomplish the penances imposed upon us in Sacramental Confession, that we must endure the annoyances, sicknesses and afflictions which are incident to human life: all this is evident enough: but are we bound under pain of sin to do more,to gain indulgences, for instance, in order to remove the punishment still due to our forgiven sins? I do not know of any theologian who maintains this opinion. We are not bound under pain of sin to make for ourselves a purgatory in this world. God is so good that He does not bind us under penalty of new sin to remove all the punishment remaining due to pardoned sins: yet it is equally true that He wills us to satisfy for our sins, that He wills us to unite our satisfactions to those of His beloved Son, that He is pleased to see us enter into the designs of His justice and seek to satisfy it, and that, though He loves the soul which must wing its flight to purgatory, He necessarily loves more tenderly that soul which owes nothing to His justice, for He loves His justice as He loves His mercy.

He is the God who desires order and harmony, He is the Father who wishes to unite His children to Himself in heaven, and He must necessarily be displeased with all that breathes of disorder and hate every obstacle between Him and those He loves. How true, therefore, these words of Saint Gregory the Great, which the Church requires every priest to read in the office of the fourth Sunday of Advent.
Bring forth worthy fruits of penance. I say worthy fruits of penance, for he who has sinned much should repent much, and in as far as he has allowed himself illicit things, in so far should he deprive himself of licit things.
Whoever, therefore, has once sinned mortally against his Creator, can never punish himself too severely for his crime, and, if he will, he can justly deprive himself of every comfort and pleasure.

So far, we have seen that adults must exert themselves in various ways in order that the merits of Christ's death be applied to their souls. But does this rule also hold, if we wish to benefit the souls of others? Is penance, expiation, reparation, necessary, that we draw down graces upon those who do not repent of their sins and offer atonement for them?

Labor is necessary, that is evident. Even the apostles had to travel from place to place, to preach in season and out of season, to reproach, correct, reprove, without ceasing, to be ridiculed, hated, persecuted, imprisoned. Labor is equally necessary in these latter days. Priests are not only the dispensers of the mysteries of God, they are also preachers, teachers, shepherds, guardians, rulers of their flocks. A ceaseless round of external duties engages the attention of those who are charged with the care of souls.

Prayer likewise is necessary. The apostles ordained deacons that they might give themselves more freely to prayer and preaching. Saint Paul begs for himself the prayers of the faithful. Again and again, the Holy Ghost by the voice of the Scriptures exhorts us to pray for one another, to pray for all men.

Is suffering also necessary that the merits of Christ be applied to our souls? Yes. I prove it, first, from the fact that the Church is a mystical body. We are the members. We must, then, assist one another; the strong must help the weak; the agile must support the lame and the halt, every joint supplieth and maketh increase of the body to the edifying itself unto charity. When one organ of a body suffers, all the other organs do their utmost to relieve the sufferings of the wounded member.

I prove it, secondly, from the words and conduct of Saint Paul. He tells us he makes up for what is wanting of the sufferings of Christ, that the Church may grow and that sinners may be converted. The sufferings of Christ are wanting, are deficient according to the Apostle. He, too, must suffer in many watchings, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness, in prisons, in stripes, In death. Why? To save the souls of Jews and Gentiles.

I prove it, thirdly, from the history of God's dealings with individuals and nations. He required not only prayer, a sorrow for the past and a newness of life, but a prayer and a sorrow that impelled to works of penance, and of steadfast penance. Job did penance in dust and ashes, so did David, Manasses, and the Ninivites. In the prophecy of Joel, "The Lord saith: Be converted to Me with all your heart in fasting, in weeping and in mourning." And you remember when Amalec fought against Israel in Raphidim, Moses prayed with uplifted hands. When he be sought God thus, Israel overcame, but "if he let them down a little, Amalec overcame." All day did Moses pray thus and his arms grew weary, but Aaron and Hur stayed them up on both sides. The prayer of penance was mighty, the enemy fled, and victory crowned the arms of Israel.

Yes, penance was necessary. The same truth may be proved from the constant tradition in the Church, and from the practice and maxims of all the saints. How often do we not read in the lives of the servants of God that when they desired to convert a hardened sinner, to remove a grievous scandal, or to obtain a signal grace, they not only prayed, but fasted, deprived themselves of sleep, scourged themselves to blood, and then imitated the example of our Lord, "Who in the days of His flesh with a strong cry and tears" offered Himself to His Father that for men He might be "the cause of eternal salvation."

He loved us and delivered Himself for us to be our example in time and our blest reward in eternity. Truth is the same yesterday, today and forever: its principles have their source in Him who is the Immutable. The infinite Majesty, having been outraged by sin, must be appeased in every age, and by every man born into the world. God exacts atonement in the Person of His Son, and He exacts it of all upon whom rests the curse in Adam. Penance, reparation is what our Eucharistic Lord requires.
Weep not over Me, but weep for yourselves and for your children.
Fill up those things which are wanting of the sufferings of Christ. As of old, so now, do penance. Of old all the people cried to the Lord with great earnestness and they humbled their souls in fastings and prayers, both they and their wives. And the priests put on haircloth and they caused the little children to lie prostrate before the temple of the Lord, and the altar of the Lord they covered with haircloth. And they cried to the Lord,  the God of Israel, with one accord, that their children might not be made a prey, and their wives carried off, and their cities destroyed, and their Holy Things profaned, and that they might not be made a reproach to the Gentiles. And God had mercy with regard to the evil which He had said that He would do to them, and He did it not.

If we, too, would avert the evils impending because of our iniquities, we must take up our cross and look out for the Divine footprints as we ascend the mountain of life's sacrifice. We must climb its rugged heights in our day, even as the servants of God have ever done.

The law of suffering is a bitter yoke and its burden is a weary weight to bear, but we may find strength for our faltering steps along our cross-strewn way! Again and again, let us rest our thoughts upon the Sacred Heart; let us study Its hatred of sin, Its devotedness, Its self-sacrifice; let us meditate upon that love which lays down life for a friend; let us understand Its all-absorbing love for the Father and for that Father's will and glory. Devotion to the Sacred Heart will cast a ray of beautiful light through the valleys of grief, tinge with heavenly brightness the rugged mountain paths of self-denial and abnegation, and help us to look out with larger trust for the promised rewards of God. Yes, under the influence of devotion to the Sacred Heart, prayer is a more intimate communion of heart with heart, labor imparts new dignity to our life, and penance becomes a bundle of myrrh precious to him who bears it, and precious and comforting as soothing balm to the Heart pierced for us on Calvary.

Thursday, July 9, 2015

Pope Francis, Evo Morales and Comrade Jesus

(Photo: L'Osservatore Romano/Pool Photo via AP)

What the hell is going on in this picture?

Bolivian President Evo Morales is handing a crucifix in the form of a hammer and sickle to a smiling Pope Francis, that's what.

Could we be any further down the rabbit hole?

Let the amelioration begin.

**UPDATE**

And so it has:

The German-language Katholisches Medienzentrum is reporting that Pope Francis' initial reaction was "skeptical", but softened once the history behind the bizarre symbol - which also graced the neck-bling given to him moments before - was explained to him. You see, gentle reader, this symbol was very dear to Fr. Luis Espinal, S.J., a Spanish-born Bolivian Jesuit who vociferously promoted a synthesis of Marxism and Catholicism - so vociferously, in fact, that the Bolivian government had him arrested and executed as a political agitator. Never mind that Pope John Paul II denounced the movement as irreconcilable with the Christian conception of man. Never mind that Evo Morales has declared himself a Marxist and a Communist, and has undertaken drastic steps to isolate the Catholic Church - the traditional foe of Communism - in Bolivia. We're dealing with someone who exploited was very close to the poor in order to bring them to the brink of a Socialist revolution the message of the Gospel. Yes, yes, I know it looks like the symbol of the most murderous socio-political theory ever to be vomited upon the earth, but appearances can be deceiving: it's a symbol of liberation and love.

Welcome to Room 101.

**UPDATE**

The amelioration continues:

RomeReports has come out with a partial transcript - consisting of one short statement - of the meeting between President Evo Morales and Pope Francis. The statement in question: "That's not right" - uttered by the Pope as Morales began explaining what the symbol meant.

First, I'd like to read a complete transcript of the exchange.

Second, I'd like to know why, if the Pope knows not only what the sculpture symbolizes but also that it's "not right," does he proceed to smile and accept the hideous thing before the flash of a hundred cameras? If it's wrong, refuse it. Don't give the socialists of the world the very thing they want: a picture of the Catholic Pope accepting a symbol of the perversion of Christianity with a silly grin on his face.

And we thought "Who am I to judge?" was bad. This picture should never have happened, regardless of what the Pope intended to express by accepting the 'gift'.

**UPDATE**

The spin on this story has reached full throttle:

Catholic World News is reporting that Pope Francis "rebuked" President Morales for his gift of the hammer and sickle 'crucifix'.

By smiling and accepting the gift.

Harsh, Pope Francis. Harsh.

Meanwhile, Catholic News Agency is in full damage-control mode:


Who knows? Given the impressive size of that font and the gnat-sized attention span of the average viewer, they might actually be able to get the genie back in the bottle. The way things are looking, however, this seems to be shaping up into a battle of two captioned images:



In any event, when Jimmy Akin finds out about this, we will be sure to get 10 things to know and share about how there is absolutely nothing to see here.

**UPDATE**

Just when it seemed as though the fix was in: enter Holy See press officer Fr. Frederico Lombardi. According to the latest from Catholic News Agency, Fr. Lombardi commented on the encounter by opining that "Pope Francis' remark  likely expressed a sentiment of 'I didn't know' ['No sabía eso'], rather than 'This is not right' ['Non está bien eso']."

How's that for setting the record straight?

On the up-side, it seems that at least one prelate recognized the utter depravity of the object. Bishop Jose Munilla Aguirre of San Sebastián tweeted:


The height of arrogance is to manipulate God in the service of atheistic ideologies. Today, once again: #ChristCrucified.

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

The Destruction of Jerusalem and the Consolidation of Rome

Reading N°23 in the History of the Catholic Church

 by
 Fr. Fernand Mourret, S.S.

About the year 62, shortly after the martyrdom of St. James the Less, a rude peasant, Jesus, the son of Ananias, began running through the streets of Jerusalem uttering terrible curses upon the city and the Temple. "A voice from the east, a voice from the west, a voice from the four winds," he cried out; "a voice against Jerusalem and the sanctuary; [...] a voice against all the people." He kept repeating these threats until, during the siege of the city seven years later (A.D. 70), he was struck in the forehead by a stone and died.[1]


The Siege and Destruction of Jerusalem
David Roberts (1796-1864)

Jerusalem was in an unexampled state of excitement. A horrible massacre of three thousand Jews (A. D. 66), ordered by the Roman procurator Gessius Florus, stirred up a general revolt of the city's population against the Roman authority. One of Nero's last acts, in 68, was to send Vespasian to Palestine with instructions to subdue the rebels at all costs. The general was already before the walls of Jerusalem when the acclaim of the Syrian legions brought him to the imperial office, left vacant by the successive deaths of four emperors (Nero, Galba, Otho, and Vitellius), all of whom died within eighteen months. The task of carrying on the war he left to his son Titus. The siege, one of the most sanguinary recorded by history, lasted seven months and ended by Titus gaining possession of Jerusalem. The Temple was destroyed. The survivors of the siege were made prisoners or sold as slaves. The veil of the Holy of Holies, the seven-branched candlestick, the Book of the Law and the Table of the Loaves of Proposition were carried off as trophies to Rome. This was "the abomination of desolation" foretold by the prophets. This was the fulfillment of the Savior's prophecy: "If thou also hadst known, and that in this thy day, the things that are to thy peace; but now they are hidden from thy eyes. For the days shall come upon thee, and thy enemies shall cast a trench about thee [...] and beat thee flat to the ground, and thy children who are in thee. And they shall not leave in thee a stone upon a stone; because thou hast not known the time of thy visitation."[2]


Titus' troops carrying off plunder from the Temple of Jerusalem
Arch of Titus, Rome

The destruction of the Temple had a considerable influence upon the destinies of the Christian Church. Thenceforth, the observance of the Mosaic ceremonies became impossible in its most essential elements. The priesthood of Aaron, the perpetual sacrifice, and the secondary ceremonies dependent on them were now antiquated and ceased. The Christians had not witnessed the final fall of the Holy City. Seeing the Roman standards raised around Jerusalem, they remembered the Master's warning: "When, therefore, you shall see the abomination of desolation, which was spoken of by Daniel the prophet [...] then they that are in Judea, let them flee to the mountains."[3] They withdrew to the city of Pella in Perea, near the left bank of the Jordan. There they lived, poor indeed, on their savings, full of confidence in the immortal vitality of their Church. But when Jerusalem fell, that terrible fall inspired them with a grief like that which a devoted child feels at the death of an unnatural mother. Even toward the Synagogue, deicide and persecutor though it was, a sort of filial reverence existed among these Christians.[4] Thirty years later, the author ot the Epistle attributed to St. Barnabas[5] tried to console the Jews who bemoaned the loss of Sion and the end of their ancient observances by showing them that the holocausts of the Old Law merely prefigured a sacrifice that is performed and will ever be performed, and that all the ceremonies of Judaism had a hidden meaning which, on being revealed, abrogated them. "The horror for unclean food survived in the aversion to be practiced with regard to wicked men[6] ... the brazen serpent and Moses' extended arms were honored in the image of Christ, of whom they were figures.[7] The Jews, as also the Gentiles, had placed their hopes in a material temple."[8] The Temple had now been destroyed by their enemies; but those enemies were to take upon themselves to build to God His true temple, a spiritual edifice.[9]

The providential connection between the Christian Church and its Jewish beginnings was not broken; but the Christian communities became more and more detached from the traditions of the Synagogue, in their hierarchy and also in their ceremonies, and even in the form of their doctrinal teaching.

St. Paul's three pastoral Epistles, written during his last days,[10] are, as it were, the Apostle's last will and testament. In a few clearly indicated details, they give us the picture of the hierarchical organization of the Church at that period.

At the head is the bishop. He is the "steward of God,"[11] says St. Paul. He should, therefore, be a model of perfection among the faithful: sober, chaste, kindly, amiable, just, without conceit, hospitable, so that even those outside may bear him a good testimony.[12]

Deacons should be men of tried virtue: upright, incapable of double-dealing, not self-seeking, keeping the mystery of the faith in a pure conscience.[13] For duties so difficult, a trial is necessary. They are to be ordained only after a preliminary probation, a sort of novitiate.[14]

At that time devout widows had a special part in the activities of the Church. To them was entrusted the direction of certain works. To these duties were to be admitted only women at least sixty years old, who had been only once married, and who were commendable for their good works, for the way they brought up their children, for their zeal in the exercise of hospitality, in the washing of the feet of the saints.[15]

As for simple Christians, all their duties are summed up in the Apostle's single advice, that they be faithful to the obligations of their condition and state. Each Christian is a member of the great social body of the Church. Let each one conscientiously perform the duties imposed on him by the place he occupies. Let the old men take care to remain "sound in faith, in love, in patience."[16] Let the aged women avoid evil-speaking and see that their outward conduct is such as becomes holiness.[17] Let the young women love their husbands and their children, and remain chaste, circumspect, busied with their home duties, submissive to their husbands, that the word of God be not blasphemed.[18] Let servants obey their masters; in all things let them show a perfect docility, that in all things they may honor the doctrine of God, our Savior.[19]

But this enumeration of duties does not give what is, according to the Apostle, the very soul of the Christian life. This is piety - earnest, faithful piety - devoted above all to the faith received from Christ by the tradition of the Apostles and ancients. The bishop must exercise himself in piety, since piety is profitable to all things.[20] The widows should continue in supplications and prayers night and day.[21] This piety must not stray off in private fancies. As there is a hierarchical center of the Church, so there is "a "deposit of faith." "O Timothy," the Apostle writes, "keep that which is committed to thy trust,"[22] "keep the good thing committed to thy trust."[23] "Continue thou in those things which thou hast learned, and which have been committed to thee: knowing of whom that hast learned them."[24] "The things which thou hast heard of me by many witnesses, the same commend to faithful men, who shall be fit to teach others also."[25] Paul denounces evil teachers, "disobedient, vain talkers," "teaching things which they ought not."[26] The Church casts forth teachers who betray the salutary doctrine;[27] for the Church, "the house of God," is "the pillar and ground of the truth."[28]

Footnotes


[1] Josephus, Jewish War, VI, v, 3.
[2] Luke 19:42-44.
[3] Matt. 24:15 f. The best interpreters explain the "abomination of desolation" as meaning the Roman military ensigns, which Tacitus (Annals, II, 17) calls "the tutelar deities of the legions."
[4] Cf. Champagny, Rome et la Judée, II, 312.
[5] Funk and Bardenhewer judge that the Epistle of Barnabas was written sometime between 96 and 98.
[6] Epistle of Barnabas, 10.
[7] Ibidem, 12.
[8] Ibidem, 16.
[9] Ibidem.
[10] Cf. Prat, La Théologie de saint Paul, I, 465-469.
[11] Θεοῡ οὶκόνομος (Tit. 1:7).
[12] See 1 Tim. 3:1-7. The Epistle speaks of the deacons in the plural, but of the episkopos in the singular. The words episkopos and presbyteros are always used without distinction; but this verbal confusion should not mislead us as to the real distinction between the office of bishop and that of priest.
[13] cf. 1 Tim. 3:8 f.
[14] Ibidem, 3:10.
[15] Ibidem, 5:9 f.
[16] Titus, 2:2.
[17] Ibidem, 2:3.
[18] Ibidem, 2:4 f.
[19] Ibidem, 2:9 f.
[20] Cf. 1 Tim. 4:8.
[21] Ibidem, 5:5.
[22] Ibidem, 6:20.
[23] 2 Tim. 1:14.
[24] Ibidem, 3:14.
[25] Ibidem, 2:2.
[26] Titus 1:10 f.
[27] Cf. 2 Tim. 4:3.
[28] Cf. 1 Tim. 3:15.

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Monday, July 6, 2015

Hope

Nineteenth in a Series on Catholic Morality

 by
 Fr. John H. Stapleton

The First Commandment bids us that we hope as well as believe in God. Our trust and confidence in His mercy to give us eternal life and the means to obtain it: this is our hope, founded on our belief that God is what He reveals Himself to us, able and willing to do by us as we would have Him do. Hope is the flower of our faith; faith is the substance of the things we hope for.

To desire and to hope are not one and the same thing. We may long for what is impossible of obtaining, while hope always supposes this possibility, better, a probability, nay, even a moral certitude. This expectation remains hope until it comes to the fruition of the things hoped for.

The desire of general happiness is anchored in the human heart, deep down in the very essence of our being. We all desire to be happy, We may be free in many things; in this we are not free. We must have happiness, greater than the present, happiness of one kind or another, real or apparent. We may have different notions of this happiness; we desire it according to our notions. Life itself is one, long, painful, unsatisfied desire.

When that desire is centered in God and the soul's salvation, it immediately becomes hope, for then we have real beatitude before us, and all may obtain it. It can be true hope only when founded on faith.

Not only is hope easy, natural, necessary, but it is essential to life. It is the mainspring of all activity. It keeps all things moving, and without it life would not be worth living. If men did not think they could get what they are striving after, they would sit down, fold their arms, let the world move, but they wouldn't.

Especially is Christian hope absolutely necessary for the leading of a Christian life, and no man would take upon himself that burden, if he did not confidently expect a crown of glory beyond, sufficient to repay him for all the things endured here below for conscience's sake. Hope is a star that beckons us on to renewed effort, a vision of the goal that animates and invigorates us; it is also a soothing balm to the wounds we receive in the struggle.

To be without this hope is the lowest level to which man may descend. St. Paul uses the term "men without hope" as the most stinging reproach he could inflict upon the dissolute pagans.

To have abandoned hope is a terrible misfortune: despair. This must not be confounded with an involuntary perturbation, a mere instinctive dread, a phantasmagoric illusion that involves no part of the will. It is not even an excessive fear that goes by the name of pusillanimity. It is a cool judgment like that of Cain: "My sin is too great that I should expect forgiveness."

He who despairs, loses sight of God's mercy and sees only His stern, rigorous justice. After hatred of God, this is perhaps the greatest injury man can do to his Master, who is Love. There has always been more of mercy than of justice in His dealings with men. We might say of Him that He is all mercy in this world, to be all justice in the next. Therefore while there is life, there is hope.

The next abomination is to hope, but to place our supreme happiness in that which should not be the object of our hope. Men live for pleasures, riches, and honors, as though these things were worthy of our highest aspirations, as though they could satisfy the unappeasable appetite of man for happiness. Greater folly than this can no man be guilty of. He takes the dross for the pure gold, the phantom for the reality. Few men theoretically belong to this class; practically it has the vast majority.

The presumptuous are those who hope to obtain the prize and do nothing to deserve it. He who would hope to fly without wings, to walk without feet, to live without air or food would be less a fool than he who hopes to save his soul without fulfilling the conditions laid down by Him who made us. There is no wages without service, no reward without merit, no crown without a cross.

This fellow's mistake is to bank too much on God's mercy, leaving His justice out of the bargain altogether. Yet God is one as well as the other, and both equally. The offense to God consists in making Him a being without any backbone, so to speak, a soft, incapable judge, whose pity degenerates into weakness. And certainly it is a serious offense.

No, hope should be sensible and reasonable. It must keep the middle between two extremes. The measure of our hope should reasonably be the measure of our efforts, for he who wishes the end wishes the means. Of course, God will make due allowances for our frailties, but that is His business, not ours; and we have no right to say just how far that mercy will go. Even though we lead the lives of saints, we shall stand in need of much mercy. Prudence tells us to do all things as though it all depended upon us alone; then God will make up for the deficiencies.

Friday, July 3, 2015

The Satisfaction for Sin

Seventeenth Conference on the Most Sacred Heart

 by
 Fr. Henry Brinkmeyer

The malice of sin is objectively infinite, illimitable; and as we advance with our studies, we realize in fuller measure what a fearful injury is done to God by every mortal offense. How appalling is the revelation that sin is without bounds, without limits, indeed infinite. The question then arises: How can the sinner ever obtain his forgiveness, how can he ever undo the evil he has wrought? When the angels committed their first sin, they were probably hurled at once into the abyss of hell without a moment's time for repentance. Man pollutes his soul with mortal sin, with many sins, sins that cry to heaven for vengeance, and he still lives, because God wishes to spare him and therefore gives him time for repentance. Here many questions present themselves for solution.

Why did not the Most High spare the angels? Why does He spare man? Could He have immediately abandoned the human race after the fall of Adam? Could He have eternally punished the race because of the guilt consequent upon the first sin? Could He forgive sin absolutely without demanding any reparation, and inflicting any punishment? Or could He forgive sin without requiring full satisfaction? For example, could He have pardoned the sinner after the sinner had cancelled only a part of the debt contracted? In other words, was it absolutely required that sin be fully atoned for, before God could pardon it?

These questions are deeply interesting, and, in all ages, have offered a broad field of inquiry to the Catholic philosopher and theologian. For our present purpose it is needless to discuss these points. The fact is that God did not abandon the human race, nor does He forgive sin without satisfaction, nay, He requires ample satisfaction. Saint Thomas explains why it is more becoming that God should not forgive sin without having received due satisfaction for it. It is evident that His infinite justice is manifested pre-eminently by demanding reparation and restitution. His infinite mercy is manifested more strikingly, because to pardon without reparation is not so honorable to the sinner as to pardon him after he has paid his debt. His infinite wisdom is also manifested, in a higher degree, because to pardon man only after fitting reparation has been made is more humiliating to Satan who first lured man into sin, and whose forfeited place man is to occupy. The divine justice, mercy and wisdom all render it more becoming that sin should not be pardoned, unless the malice of sin, the injury done to God by sin, is fully repaired.

But how is this to be accomplished? Can man ever undo an infinite injury? Man's life is like a flower that blooms for awhile, then withers and falls to the dust. He lives today, tomorrow he is seen no more. And his mind is so feeble, his will so fickle, his heart so frail, his powers so finite; can the finite ever propitiate the Infinite?

Evidently, man can never - singly or collectively - give adequate satisfaction for even one grievous sin. If man cannot, no creature as mere creature can, for every creature is finite. Consequently, only a being equal to God can repair completely the injury of sin. But on the one hand, God alone is infinite; He alone is equal to Himself. There is none like to Him: all things are before Him as if they were not, all things are absolutely His, there is nothing that was not made by Him. And on the other hand, God cannot apologize to Himself, He cannot suffer, He cannot change; as He was from eternity, so He always is; He cannot deny His own sovereign, infinite majesty, yet He is the one offended. Apparently, therefore, an adequate reparation for sin seems impossible. Yet God's justice, mercy and wisdom fitly require complete satisfaction for sin: moreover, He has signified that without this complete satisfaction He is unwilling to forgive.

There was only one thing possible in this overwhelming difficulty. If the offended God demanded full satisfaction, it was necessary that He Himself should become a creature, that He should remain God, and at the same time assume in His personality a created nature, that in His created nature He should render the Godhead honor, praise and obedience, and thus atone for His creature's guilt. And therefore "The Word was made flesh and dwelt amongst us." He was bruised for our sins and wounded for our iniquities; He was as a worm trodden under foot, the outcast of His own people, the lamb who opened not His mouth when He was led to the slaughter. By His wounds we are healed, by His bruises we are saved, by His blood we are ransomed from eternal perdition. And in heaven all the multitude which no man can number, the angels and the saints, the ancients and prophets, standing before the throne and in sight of the Lamb, clothed in white robes and with palms in their hands, all cry aloud:
To Him that sitteth on the throne and to the Lamb, benediction and honor and glory and power forever and ever because Thou wast slain and hast redeemed us to God in Thy blood, out of every tribe and tongue and people and nation.
Here again many questions might be raised and many difficulties proposed. One reason why the satisfaction of our Lord was so perfect is because it was so entirely free. All His sufferings were voluntarily borne, His death voluntarily embraced, because His whole human nature and all the laws that governed it were entirely under His command. It is true, the martyr's sufferings are also voluntary, but, as has been frequently stated, while the martyr is being tortured, he cannot help feeling the pain that fire and sword inflict upon him: the wounds are made, the members are cut, the nerves and bones laid bare. But at any moment our Lord could have suspended the pain, removed the nails from His hands and feet, and descended from the wood of the cross. Hence, as was said before, His sufferings and death were doubly meritorious because so absolutely free.
I lay down My life. No man taketh it away from Me: but I lay it down of Myself, and I have power to lay it down: and I have power to take it up again.
He was led like a lamb to the slaughter because He willed it. Yet that very freedom of His atonement offers a striking difficulty. The eternal Father commands His Son to suffer. Jesus Himself said: "This commandment I have received from My Father." It was necessary, then, for our Lord to obey: had He disobeyed the mandate, sin would have been committed. But an obedience which is necessary appears to lose much of meritoriousness; it can furnish satispassion, can it offer satisfaction? For satisfaction, an act must be free. Here is a difficulty. Thank God, as Cardinal Newman has so luminously remarked, difficulties and doubts are not correlative: a thousand difficulties do not authorize one doubt.

But the question before us does present a difficulty. How is it answered? Theologians offer various solutions, but the best answer is apparently this simple one. The will is not free because it has the power to commit sin. God is free, yet He can never be unholy; the Blessed in heaven are free, still they have not the power of again yielding to temptation, they are confirmed in their love of God. The possibility of doing wrong is, as philosophers express it, a defect of liberty, a defect which is essential to every free creature while in a probationary state. Our Lord assumed our human nature, but not this defect, since it is a blemish incompatible with His holiness as Man-God. He was free then, absolutely free, but His sanctity and His love of His Father would never permit Him to go counter to that will. Propterea exaltavit ilium Deus, "for this reason did God lift Him up," factus est, obediens usque ad mortem, mortem autem crucis, "because He was obedient unto death, even unto the death of the cross."

Another reason why the satisfaction made by our Lord was so perfect is found in the intense, universal and peculiar sufferings He endured. First, in the intensity of His sufferings. Saint Thomas gives four reasons for maintaining that the pains our Lord endured in body and soul were the most acute that man can suffer on earth. They can be summed up perhaps in this one reason as signed by St. Bonaventure, that our Lord's body and soul were divinely framed for suffering, and that He permitted each power to act and endure independent of every other; it was because of this, we know, that He refused to take the wine and gall offered Him on the cross: He wished to die naturally in the full consciousness of all His excruciating torments.

Secondly, His sufferings were quasi universal. Saint Thomas shows how our Lord suffered at the hands of prince and pauper, priest and Levite, Jew and Gentile, man and woman; how He suffered in all His members and in all His senses; how, finally, He died struck by His Father, by men spit upon, mocked, bereft of His very clothing: the outcast of His people, as a worm trodden under foot.

Thirdly, His death was peculiarly shameful and accursed. The Mosaic Scriptures even had said: "He is accursed of God that hangeth on a tree!" By the fruit of the tree sin had come into the world: He was to make restitution for sin, and therefore had Himself suspended to the tree of the cross, restoring what had been robbed; according to these words of the Psalmist, "Then did I pay that which I took not away."

Can we marvel that the saints call the crucifix the book which they never weary of studying and from which they learn all wisdom? Jesus dead upon the cross is the measure of the malice of sin, of our personal sin. That blood-shedding, that agony, that fearful death: all is truly, really our work. Oh, if His Passion had never been repeated since the consummatum est on Calvary's Mount! It is renewed each time a soul yields to mortal sin. Yet the arms of Jesus are ever open to embrace us, His head is ever inclined to give us the kiss of peace, His ear is ever ready to hearken to our woes. When we weep, His loving Heart becomes our blessed retreat, when we tell Him of our guilt, His gentle voice breathes in the calm, "Go, penitent hearts, and sin no more."

Ah, loving Saviour! How merciful is Thy heart for us. Standing beside Thy cross, we ask: What may we do to prove our love for Thee? Heart ever-tender and compassionate! Filled with infinite love, broken by our ingratitude and pierced by our sins, accept the full oblation that we now make to Thee. Take us, Lord, with all our hopes, our joys, our griefs; draw us ever nearer to Thy wounded side and teach us all Thy blessed ways.