Manage Account

<div>Could John the Baptist forgive sins?</div><div>No, John could not forgive sins, or, more precisely, he could not absolve people of their sins. His baptism was a baptism of repentance, which prefigured that won by the merits of Jesus through his sacrifice of Calvary, i.e., the sacrament of baptism (CCC 700). Baptism absolves one of all his sins and gives him new life in God through the indwelling of the Holy Trinity (see CCC 1262-70).
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How Were John’s Baptisms Different Than the Sacrament?

Why Christmas Was Unnecessary (sorta)

<div>If mankind evolved over thousands of years, when was a soul introduced?</div><div><blockquote>The teaching authority of the Church does not forbid that, in conformity with the present state of human sciences and sacred theology, research and discussions . . . take place with regard to the doctrine of evolution, in as far as it inquires into the origin of the human body as coming from pre-existent and living matter—for the Catholic faith obliges us to hold that souls are immediately created by God (Pope Pius XII, Humani Generis 36).</blockquote>
The Church teaches that the physical and genetic makeup of the human person can come from an evolutionary process. The soul, on the other hand, is something that was immediately created by God.
When that happened is open to theological speculation. The Church has no official teaching on when in the human soul first appeared in history.
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When Was the First Human Soul?

This year marks the ten-year anniversary of Peter Leithart’s “<a href="https://www.patheos.com/blogs/leithart/2015/10/what-i-want-from-catholics/">What I Want From Catholics</a>.” The 2015 wish list may seem like a trivial thing to mark an anniversary of. It made some waves when it was first published but has since died the quiet death of most internet blogs posts, being largely forgotten in the decade since.
But for me, the anniversary is like the death of a pop star from my youth. I vaguely remember when it was published, as I was starting to obsessively follow the Catholic blogosphere. When I stumbled upon it again more recently, it was another sharp reminder that many of my youthful memories are now measured in decades rather than years.
So I reread the list for nostalgia’s sake—and was hit by a passage that contributed to its initial rage-circulation:
<blockquote>I want Catholics to give up veneration of the consecrated host and other sacred objects. Jesus gave us his body and blood to eat and drink, not to admire. Whatever Catholics think they are doing, to Protestants they appear to be indulging in a form of liturgical idolatry. At the very least, they are distracting from Jesus’ purpose for the Eucharist: take, eat; take, drink.</blockquote>
These words are unremarkable from Rev. Leithart himself. He is a <a href="https://theopolisinstitute.com/staff/peter-leithart/">Protestant minister</a>, and so he calls Catholics to do exactly what we’d expect: Become more Protestant. I have no problem with that (though I think he is wrong); he’s asking what he ought within his tradition.
What’s more surprising is how many Catholics seem to have taken up his advice in the ten years since his letter.
As an altar server, I had a priest stop me from praying before Mass, claiming that it would take away from my “reception” of the Eucharist. In seminary, I had formators who discouraged us from adoration, dismissing such eucharistic prayer in words very similar to Leithart’s. Many readers could offer their own stories. We need not look to Protestant brethren for examples; in many parishes, schools, and internet caves, you’ll still find Catholics suspicious of eucharistic adoration, though often for the same reasons as Protestants: The Eucharist is to take and eat, not to look at.
These Catholics <a href="https://www.christiancentury.org/article/2011-06/vatican-tries-revive-eucharistic-adoration">didn’t originate</a> with Leithart, and realistically, they haven’t increased because of him, either. They’re instead another remnant of the post-Vatican II liturgical and spiritual upheavals.
In that sense, the argument is worth reexamining in 2025 just as in 2015. After all, the point is largely correct: The Eucharist <a href="https://www.usccb.org/sites/default/files/flipbooks/catechism/336/">is a meal</a>. It has its origin in the Last Supper, comes to us today in the ritual meal of the Mass, and is given to the faithful for consumption. Isn’t there a tension between this divine intention and adoration, where the Eucharist decidedly isn’t consumed?
This is a false competition, as anyone who has tried adoring the Eucharist knows. The Eucharist is meant for consumption, but that doesn’t necessitate that it’s meant for only consumption. But still, we shouldn’t presume God’s purposes of a gift as precious as Jesus’ body beyond what he told us—and it seems as though he’s told us to take and eat, without mentioning taking and adoring.
So let’s see if we can reason additional insight into the Eucharist from what Jesus did tell us. Perhaps he implied more than he was able to explicitly say in that little room 2,000 years ago.
Let’s instead use the closest analogy we have to the soul and the Eucharist—a man and his wife.
St. Paul prompts us in <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Ephesians%205&amp;version=NIV">Ephesians 5</a> to make the connection. <a href="https://suscopts.org/resources/literature/300/a-spiritual-study-of-the-song-of-songs-during-the-/#:~:text=In%20the%20fifth%20chapter%20of,is%20the%20celebration%20of%20marriage.">The Song of Songs</a>, and the <a href="https://www.eucharisticrevival.org/post/st-thomas-aquinas-on-the-eucharist">saintly commentaries</a> on it, prompt us to do the same, as does <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Revelation%2019%3A6-9&amp;version=ESV">Revelation</a>. Most importantly, Jesus himself implies a nuptial dimension when he <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/verse/en/Matthew%2026%3A26">gives us his body</a>.
A woman gives her body to her husband in marriage in some sense for the purpose of sexual union and the bearing of children (perhaps among other purposes). After all, this is the consummation that seals the sacrament into an unbreakable bond; this is the action that separates marriage from other forms of friendship and relationship, and the core of why it’s a separate sacrament in the first place, as opposed to, say, sacramentalizing “friendship.”
But imagine the husband who says, “Honey, I really don’t want you wearing such beautiful clothes anymore, or doing your hair. When you do, I can’t help but admire the beauty of your body—but I don’t want to admire it; I want to experience it. So, except for when we’re in the marital embrace, I want you to wear this burka at all times.”
That husband clearly misunderstands the nature of a sexual union. Even Islamic cultures that laud the burka and the hijab <a href="https://iqranetwork.com/blog/when-can-a-woman-take-off-her-hijab-guidelines-and-exceptions/">do not do so at home</a> with the woman’s husband.
The admiration of the other, including of their body, outside of the actual sexual act clearly is ordered toward and helps facilitate the sexual act. As do other forms of bodily self-gift: taking out the garbage, giving a back rub, speaking pleasantries, or cuddling on the couch. The wife’s purpose in giving her body in the sacrament of marriage is for the husband to “take, have; take, hold.” That purpose is not frustrated by “take, look; take, admire.” In fact, it is furthered.
Of course, this “looking” isn’t the full story in marriage, either. My wife would doubtless be perturbed if I stared at her all day, especially if I refused to do anything else. My gaze of admiration can go awry if it is made into the goal rather than an instrument. Like a marital relationship, the Eucharist indeed is transgressed if “looking” and “adoring” eclipse the “taking” and “eating” and becomes a substitute for the clear primary intention Jesus had in giving us his body to consume.
This might also give an objection that even Leithart misses but is levied at times by the Orthodox: The Eucharist is too sacred for display. Yes, gazing and adoring are normally ordered toward reception and intimacy. But the Eucharist is so special that we ought to shield it from the ravenous gazes that may fall upon it.
This is the sensibility of Islamic and Eastern cultures in general. A Muslim woman needn’t wear the hijab with her husband, since everything about their relationship can be ordered toward intimacy, but she needs to wear it in most other situations because all men except her husband are not meant for that same intimacy with her. And though this seems extreme to most Christian cultures, the principle is shared by all faiths. A husband may not object to his wife’s lingerie at home, but he certainly objects to it on the street corner.
But this goes beyond adoration in general and gets to prudential applications of when and how the Eucharist should be exposed to faithful eyes. This is why the Church <a href="https://fdlc.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/Guidelines-for-Adoration-and-Exposition-of-the-Blessed-Sacrament-Diocese-of-Lansing.pdf">has rules</a> about adoration: to protect it from abuses. Debates about the exact rules and application will rage on, as ever they have.
Perhaps the East ought to be less obscure, just as the West ought to be more modest. Or perhaps both are appropriate for their sensibilities, just as there are legitimate variations of physical intimacy among married couples. But the ever-changing mores about how, when, and where the Eucharist ought to be adored shouldn’t cause doubt that it should be adored at all.
The Eucharist is too sacred to look at, too sacred to touch, and too sacred to eat. Yet the Eucharist is “what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands” (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/verse/en/1%20John%201%3A1">1 John 1:1</a>). Though we should guard against abuses, we must also remember that anything we do in relation to the Eucharist is a generous gift.
So, whereas objections can be excused from Protestants, and even from the Orthodox, fellow Catholics should know better. We look upon our beloved in love and admiration, and then, with hearts primed, we’re all the more able to unite in true affection in the eucharistic liturgy. For where the Eucharist is, there is Christ. And where Christ is, there is God.

Eucharistic Adoration: Good or Bad?

This is an encore episode, originally aired on October 1, 2025
“Does God Want Organized Religion?” In this episode, we explore the role of organized faith and its significance, along with questions like why Protestants should respect the Pope and how a priest can absolve sin. We also delve into the historical presence of bishops and the continuity of apostolic authority, providing a comprehensive look at these vital topics.
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Does God Want Organized Religion? & More Questions on Hierarchy

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Does the Pro-Life Position Have an Answer for this Abortion Question?

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DAY 350
CHALLENGE
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“Catholic teaching on justification is confused. Catholics hold that, when God justifies us, he gives us more than legal righteousness, yet we obviously aren’t fully righteous in our behavior.”
DEFENSE
This concern is caused by the categories used to look at the question.
In the Protestant community, justification (here meaning the initial justification at the beginning of the Christian life) is usually thought to involve the bestowal of only legal righteousness (sometimes called “forensic” righteousness). On this model, God acts like a courtroom judge and declares the sinner innocent, giving him legal righteousness, regardless of his past sins.
The other form of righteousness typically discussed in Protestant circles has to do with our behavior and may be called behavioral righteousness. It is understood that God gives us this form of righteousness over time through the process of sanctification, so that we progressively overcome sinful patterns of behavior.
If these are the only two forms of righteousness, then the Catholic claim that justification involves more than legal righteousness would be problematic because we obviously aren’t completely behaviorally righteous after initial justification.
However, these two are not the only types of righteousness Catholics envision. There is another, which may be called objective or metaphysical righteousness. Metaphysics is the study of what is ultimately real, and the idea is that when we sin, it changes the condition of our souls in a real, objective way by depriving them of holiness. This is reflected in the biblical images depicting sin as dirty, unclean, or defiling.
But when God justifies us, he changes this and gives us the objective holiness that we had been deprived of due to our sins. This inward transformation is reflected, for example, in the famous statement, “though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool” (Isa. 1:18).
On the Catholic view, God’s word is efficacious and brings about what he declares (Isa. 55:11). Thus, when he declares a person righteous, that person becomes objectively (metaphysically) righteous. This is what prevents God’s declaration of righteousness from simply being a legal fiction.
This objective righteousness is also referred to as “sanctifying grace” (cf. CCC 2023), and it is what grows during the process of ongoing justification (see Days 99 and 257).
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Objective Righteousness

Why does the Catholic Church “police” who can receive the Eucharist? After all, many Protestant churches practice “open communion,” in which the Lord’s Supper is offered to all baptized Christians in attendance, or to all believers (including the unbaptized), or simply to whoever wishes to receive.
But as a non-Catholic attending a Catholic Mass quickly discovers, this is not the case in reverse: non-Catholics are (typically) not permitted to receive. And <a href="https://www.vatican.va/archive/cod-iuris-canonici/eng/documents/cic_lib4-cann879-958_en.html">Catholics are themselves reminded</a> that “a person who is conscious of grave sin” may not “receive the body of the Lord without previous sacramental confession unless there is a grave reason and there is no opportunity to confess” (CIC 916). And ministers of Holy Communion are instructed that those who have been excommunicated or are otherwise “obstinately persevering in manifest grave sin are not to be admitted to holy communion” (915).
On the surface, it’s easy to see why the Catholic practice of “closed communion” appears scandalous and pharisaical. After all, when “the tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to hear” Jesus, it’s the hypocritical Pharisees who complain that “this man receives sinners and eats with them” (Luke 15:1-2). If Jesus dined with sinners, then why do we refuse them the Lord’s Supper?
The answer is because Jesus treats the Last Supper differently. For starters, whereas Jesus dined with others quite freely, the Last Supper is presented in the Gospels as a more exclusive affair, between Jesus and his chosen twelve. St. Matthew says that Jesus “sat at table with the twelve disciples,” and St. Luke describes how Jesus said to them, “You are those who have continued with me in my trials; as my Father appointed a kingdom for me, so do I appoint for you that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom, and sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel” (22:28-30).
This is a special, intimate moment between Jesus and his closest followers. Jesus tells them, “I have earnestly desired to eat this passover with you before I suffer” (Luke 22:15). This Jewish context is significant, since the Passover was a decidedly “closed” affair: “When a stranger shall sojourn with you and would keep the passover to the Lord, let all his males be circumcised, then he may come near and keep it; he shall be as a native of the land. But no uncircumcised person shall eat of it” (Exod. 12:48). In other words, anyone was free to join the Passover table . . . as long as he first entered the covenant people through circumcision.
It’s not only that the Last Supper is an intimate affair between Jesus and his disciples, or that it’s the fulfillment of the Jewish Passover. It’s also that the Eucharist is communion with Jesus Christ. This is why Catholics, who believe that the Eucharist really is Jesus, treat the Eucharist with more reverence, and in a more exclusive manner, than those Christians who believe it’s only a symbol. We take seriously St. Paul’s warning that whoever “eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of profaning the body and blood of the Lord,” and that “any one who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgment upon himself” (1 Cor. 11:27,29).
Christians treat hospitality (open to all!) very differently from how they treat marital intimacy (reserved for the one with whom you’re in a covenantal relationship!). So which of these is the Eucharist more like? If you think the Eucharist is just a symbol, you might think the former. But Scripture is clear that it’s the latter. St. Paul takes the words of Genesis 2:24, about how “the two shall become one flesh” in sexual union, and applies them to the union of Christ and the Church (Eph. 5:31-32). And how does this union occur? As Paul explains, “the cup of blessing which we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ?” And Paul insists that “we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread” (1 Cor. 10:16-17). In other words, Christ and the Church become one body through the Eucharist.
<a href="https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/0126.htm">St. Justin Martyr told us all of this</a> back in about the year 160, writing,
<blockquote>And this food is called among us Εὐχαριστία [the Eucharist], of which no one is allowed to partake but the man who believes that the things which we teach are true, and who has been washed with the washing that is for the remission of sins, and unto regeneration, and who is so living as Christ has enjoined. For not as common bread and common drink do we receive these; but in like manner as Jesus Christ our Savior, having been made flesh by the Word of God, had both flesh and blood for our salvation, so likewise have we been taught that the food which is blessed by the prayer of his word, and from which our blood and flesh by transmutation are nourished, is the flesh and blood of that Jesus who was made flesh.</blockquote>
So the earliest Christians didn’t practice open communion. They required anyone presenting themselves for the Eucharist to be (1) baptized, (2) a believing Catholic, and (3) not living in sin. Why? Because, as Justin says, the earliest Christians realized that the Eucharist isn’t common food and drink, but truly the flesh and blood of Jesus. <a href="https://www.britannica.com/topic/Liturgy-of-the-Catechumens">So seriously did the early Christians take this guarding of the Eucharist</a> that “in the early Church, the catechumens, or hearers who had not yet been baptized, were dismissed at the conclusion of the Liturgy of the Catechumens, and the faithful, or baptized Christians, remained to celebrate the mystery of the Eucharist.”
But what about Judas? It’s all well and good to say, as the Eastern Liturgy does, “Holy things for holy people.” But at that first Eucharist, we find Judas Iscariot. Benjamin Perry, a Protestant minister at Middle Church in New York City (“<a href="https://www.middlechurch.org/first-time/">where therapy meets Broadway</a>”), puts the argument <a href="https://twitter.com/FaithfullyBP/status/1189241063044714501">this way</a>:
<blockquote>Do not deny anyone communion. Ever.
Communion is not a reward. It is not a privilege for the righteous. It is an invitation to step towards God’s table where everyone has enough and everyone a place.
Remember: Jesus fed Judas.</blockquote>
How do we make sense of this? For starters, it’s not entirely clear that Jesus did give the Eucharist to Judas, and the early Christians disagreed on this point. Nevertheless, the majority opinion is that he probably did, and for good reason: Judas’s sin was a secret. As <a href="https://www.newadvent.org/summa/4081.htm">St. Thomas Aquinas explains</a>, “Christ did not repel Judas from Communion so as to furnish an example that such secret sinners are not to be repelled by other priests.”
This is an important distinction. Take the case of two people who commit adultery. One of them repents and goes to confession; the other doesn’t. If the priest knows about the adultery only through the confessional, he may not deny the unrepentant sinner Communion, since to do so would be to reveal this secret sin. Similarly, “if your brother sins against you,” you should first “go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have gained your brother” (Matt. 18:15). People should have the space to quietly repent without being publicly humiliated.  But none of that applies when the person is openly non-Catholic, either in creed or in action. That’s why canon 915 says you deny Communion in cases of “manifest grave sin”—the sin has to be out in the open.
In the case of Judas, we see these principles at play. Initially, Aquinas points out, “the wickedness of Judas was known to Christ as God; but it was unknown to him after the manner in which men know it.” Jesus doesn’t want to reveal his secret sin publicly, and so he instead says, “Truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me.” His disciples, including Judas, then ask, “Is it I, Lord?” (Matt. 26:20-25). Jesus has given Judas one last chance to convert without naming him openly. In so doing, he’s also pricked the consciences of the other disciples, who aren’t confident it won’t be they who betray Jesus. It’s only once Judas’s sin becomes manifest, when he’s openly betraying Jesus, that Jesus rebukes him openly: “Judas, would you betray the Son of man with a kiss?” (Luke 22:48).
This is the model the Church has sought to follow for the past two thousand years. If the person’s sin is private, handle the issue privately (including by instructing him not to present himself for Communion); if the person’s sin is open, then prevent scandal by refusing to allow him to eat and drink “judgment upon himself.”

Why Did Jesus Give Judas Communion?

A Catholic Priest changed biology FOREVER!

What does &#8220;Lead us not into temptation&#8221; really mean? Join Joe Heschmeyer as he delves into the deeper meaning behind this line from the Lord&#8217;s Prayer. Discover the nuances of the original Greek text and explore how the Catechism sheds light on this essential petition. Understand why we pray this and how it aligns with God&#8217;s character.
Transcript:
Jamie wanted to know why Jesus taught us to pray, &#8220;lead us not into temptation.&#8221;
Yes. And so fortunately, this is an area that Catechism talks about directly. It&#8217;s my job very easy. So the catechism in its section on prayer goes through the our father bit by bit. And it&#8217;s extremely worth your while. It you do a deep dive on a prayer given to us by Jesus Christ. And in paragraph 28 46, it explains that our sins come from our consenting to temptation. So if we want to not sin, we want to not just not sin, we want to avoid temptation that might lead us to sin, but that the Greek verb being translated as lead us doesn&#8217;t neatly translate into English because the Greek means both. Do not allow us to enter into temptation and do not let us yield the temptation. But this is one of those words where it cannot be easily kind of translated in a way you could just pray.
If you&#8217;re giving the footnote every time you try to do our father, that&#8217;d be a cumbersome and unwieldy. So you just have to settle on good enough kind of language. Similarly with give us this day our daily bread, the word daily there could also be translated super substantial. And St. Jerome translates it both ways because the daily bread is the manna from heaven and it&#8217;s pointing us to the super substantial food of the Eucharist. And so the word Jesus uses in Greek to describe this, food isn&#8217;t just an ordinary word for daily. There&#8217;s something a little more going on that&#8217;s sometimes hard to get in translation. So we&#8217;re reminded in the catechism that God cannot be tempted and tempts no one. That&#8217;s James one, verse 13. So he doesn&#8217;t literally lead us into temptation, but on the contrary wants to deliver us from, he wants to set us free from evil. And so we ask him not to allow us to take the way that leads to sin that lead us not into temptation is not because we&#8217;re worried that God is going to lead us into temptation, but that we might go into temptation on our own and we&#8217;re asking him to lead us in a different direction.

Why Do We Pray “Lead Us Not into Temptation”?

Catholic apologist Joe Heschmeyer joins Cy Kellett to tackle a thought-provoking question from a listener who grew up in Mormonism and is curious about why he should consider becoming Catholic.
Transcript:
Caller: I left the Mormon Church when I was 8. I left because I didn&#8217;t think it was true. I also left because I think my friend oversold it for me when I was baptized in the Mormon Church. When I was baptized, he said that I would feel the love of God. I came from a broken family, and I just wanted my family back together.
Joe: Oh, man, I&#8217;m so sorry. That&#8217;s tragic.
Cy: That&#8217;s awful.
Joe: And I want to apologize. I know we&#8217;re not Mormons, but I want to apologize on behalf of your friend, because that&#8217;s such a rough thing to do to a kid, to promise, like, hey, you know, this terrible tragedy you&#8217;re experiencing. Just undergo this ritual, and then you won&#8217;t feel that tragedy. You&#8217;ll feel the love of God instead. That&#8217;s a terrible thing to do to a person. I&#8217;m sure he meant well, but that&#8217;s awful. I&#8217;m so sorry about that. You know, you were right to not go where the truth wasn&#8217;t. In other words, not being Mormon because it isn&#8217;t true. That&#8217;s enough of a reason not to be Mormon.
And the flip side to that is, I think the best reason to be Catholic is that it&#8217;s true if you are someone who loves Jesus Christ, and if you take him seriously in Matthew 16, when he says he&#8217;s building the Church and that the gates of hell won&#8217;t overcome the Church.
And if you take&#8230; You know, I mentioned in Acts 5 earlier that Gamaliel the Pharisee lays out this challenge, that there&#8217;ve been all these failed messianic movements that splinter and fracture and all of that and kind of peter out when the leader of the movement dies. It&#8217;s one of the ways we know they&#8217;re not real, that the Catholic claim is that for 2,000 years, the Church has stood here, and it can make that historical claim.
Mormonism, of course, can&#8217;t. You know, it&#8217;s claiming, no, the Church actually failed and had to be rebooted by a prophet in the 19th century in America. Now, there are times when being Catholic feels totally amazing, and there are times where it really does not. So I don&#8217;t want to oversell it to you. Being Catholic is the beginning of a journey, and it&#8217;s by no means a completion of it, but the completion of it is that this hunger you have for truth and goodness and beauty will one day be satisfied by a God who loves you infinitely, who loves you more than anyone&#8217;s ever loved anyone. I think that&#8217;s the best reason to be Catholic.
Cy: What do you think, Adam?
Caller: Well, I definitely am curious. So that&#8217;s why I&#8217;m calling in because, yeah, I was hoping you can help me get directed towards the truth and clarification.
Joe: Yeah, let me give you a very brief 5,000-year sketch. I know I&#8217;m not going to do this justice. There is a longing in the human heart to see God. Even when God reveals himself just a little bit to Abraham and then a little bit more and a little bit more and a little bit more, he&#8217;s fulfilling something that&#8217;s always been in the human heart. We want to know, love, and serve God. We want to be known by God, and we want to be loved by God, and we want to spend eternity with God.
You read the writings of pagans like Aristotle and Plato when he&#8217;s recounting the Symposium of Socrates; this is baked into us. We want union with God. It&#8217;s why religion exists. We don&#8217;t feel that in the way that we all know we should, and we can&#8217;t do anything on our end to close that gap in any meaningful sense. Every religion in the world has tried and has failed, has come up short.
The radical difference between those religions and Judaism and Christianity is that the Judeo-Christian message is that God is going to close the gap. God comes to us because we can&#8217;t actually go to Him. Like the Tower of Babel is us trying to reach up to God. Pentecost is God coming down to us. The incarnation is God coming down to us. These things are&#8230; God&#8217;s search for man is what it&#8217;s sometimes called, because our search for God without his help is totally fruitless.
God ultimately enters history not just through revelation, not just by telling us things, but from the second person of the Holy Trinity taking on a human nature. That entrance into history isn&#8217;t just a one-and-done kind of thing, but that endures. In the Church, we see the manifestation of the incarnation lived out. That&#8217;s why the Church, which is, if you know anything about the Catholic Church, you know it&#8217;s very often incompetent and corrupt and can&#8217;t seem to get anything done, and yet it&#8217;s the oldest government in the world.
It has survived all of the odds; all of these much stronger, better human enterprises have failed and collapsed and crumbled. This strange little Church has continued to grow and endure. That&#8217;s all a sign that God is in control. That&#8217;s all a sign that in the midst of our ineptitude and our sin and our evil, God is still active and working among us for our good and out of love for each of us. So that&#8217;s why I&#8217;m Catholic, and that&#8217;s why I think you should be Catholic.
Caller: Well, I definitely am curious, and I&#8217;m definitely going to pay a visit to my local church.
Cy: God bless you, Adam.
Joe: Excellent. Why don&#8217;t we send you Trent Horn&#8217;s book?
Cy: Our colleague Trent Horn wrote a book called *Why We&#8217;re Catholic*, and it just goes through bit by bit why we&#8217;re, you know, various explanations of why we&#8217;re Catholic and why we believe the specific things we believe. I&#8217;d love it if you call back maybe when Joe&#8217;s on, and we can continue this conversation, because it&#8217;s about the most inspiring thing in the world that can happen to people like me and Joe. For someone to say, I&#8217;m seriously considering it, because it is. And by it, I mean the person of Jesus as given to us in the Catholic Church, is worth considering. It&#8217;s worth taking the time to consider. And we&#8217;re so grateful and moved by the fact that you are.
So you want to hang on the line, and we&#8217;ll send you a couple of books?
Caller: Okay.
Cy: Call us back when Joe&#8217;s on.
Caller: Okay.
Joe: All right. Can I ask something for everybody else listening just to offer up a prayer right now while we&#8217;re doing the boring part in between now and the next caller just for Adam&#8217;s journey?
Cy: Yes, please do that. It&#8217;s not the&#8230; When I&#8217;m talking, it&#8217;s not the boring part between callers.
Joe: That&#8217;s what everybody&#8230; That&#8217;s what we call it.
Cy: No.
Joe: Can you pick up the line with Adam and make sure he gets those books before Adam&#8217;s attitude turns him off to the whole Catholic thing?
Cy: This is not boring right now.
Joe: This is what people look forward to. You&#8217;re distracting people praying right now.
Cy: Oh, I&#8217;m sorry. Stop saying horrible things, Joe.
Joe: All right.

If God Never Made Me Happy, Why Be Catholic?

In the last few years, there has been a sometimes-heated discussion in certain Catholic circles about whether Muslims and Christians worship “the same God.”
The phrase “same God” is fraught in that it can mean different things. Obviously, Muslims do not worship God as a Trinity of Persons, so they do not worship the same God in that sense. However, they do worship God as the single, omnipotent Creator who appeared to Abraham.
Without getting into deeper philosophical waters about what counts as sameness and difference, it’s worth noting that Vatican II does not use the phrase “same God.” Instead, it says that Muslims worship “the one and merciful God” (Lumen Gentium 16) and “the one God” (Nostra Aetate 3).
Despite the concerns expressed by some modern traditionalists—namely, that this sort of language is one more example of modernism infecting the Church—the recognition that Muslims worship God has not been controversial in Catholic history. Catholic Tradition actually incorporates this concept.
It appears that the idea that Muslims don’t worship God actually comes from outside Catholicism and originates in the Protestant community.
A key text in those circles is 2 Corinthians 11:4, which says that “if someone comes and preaches another Jesus than the one we preached, or if you receive a different spirit from the one you received, or if you accept a different gospel from the one you accepted, you submit to it readily enough.” This is used to argue that a different understanding of Jesus invalidates one’s faith, since one has “a different Christ.”
This is then often backed up by appeals to Galatians 1:8, where Paul says that “even if we, or an angel from heaven, should preach to you a gospel contrary to that which we preached to you, let him be accursed.”
Protestant apologists frequently apply this chain of reasoning to Catholics and argue that they are not Christians, alleging that they have a different understanding of the gospel from Protestants’ understanding.
But they also apply this in anti-Muslim apologetics to argue that they worship “a different God” from the God of Christians, since they reject the doctrine of the Trinity and thus Jesus as the Son of God.
Though the former argument has been rejected by Catholics, some in contemporary traditionalist circles have picked up the latter.
There is an obvious objection, which is that non-Christian Jews also reject the Trinity, but Catholic Tradition has never held that Jews don’t worship God. The doctrine of the Trinity had not been clearly revealed in Old Testament times, and Jews prior to the time of Christ did not believe in it. Jesus even acknowledges this. As he says in John 14:1, “You believe in God, believe also in me.”
The Trinity was new revelation with the Christian age, but that didn’t stop previous Jews—or those who maintained the previous, non-trinitarian understanding of God—from genuinely directing their prayers to the Creator of the universe.
This is a reflection of the fact that you don’t have to know everything about someone in order to talk to him or give him honor and worship.
But if non-Christian Jews disbelieve in the Trinity and nevertheless worship God, then the same will be true of Muslims, who do the same thing. They may not understand God with the full Christian understanding of him—just as contemporary Jews don’t—but they do recognize that there is a Creator who appeared to Abraham and to whom they direct their worship.
What may come as a surprise is that this has been the traditional Catholic understanding. If you read traditional authors interacting with Islam—like St. Thomas Aquinas or St. John Damascene—they criticize it, but you don’t find them saying things like, “Muslims worship a different God from the God we Christians worship.”
The more one delves into the Tradition, the more clear it is that Catholics have accepted the basic premise that Muslims—despite what is flawed and incomplete in their understanding of him—do worship God.
This comes out more clearly the deeper one goes into the Tradition, as we can see by examining the footnotes of Vatican II’s discussion of the subject.
There are two passages where the council discusses Muslims, as mentioned above. One is in Lumen Gentium 16, and the other is in Nostra Aetate 3. The latter says,
<blockquote>The Church regards with esteem also the Muslims. They adore the one God, living and subsisting in himself; merciful and all-powerful, the Creator of heaven and earth, who has spoken to men; they take pains to submit wholeheartedly to even his inscrutable decrees, just as Abraham, with whom the faith of Islam takes pleasure in linking itself, submitted to God. Though they do not acknowledge Jesus as God, they revere him as a prophet. They also honor Mary, his virgin Mother; at times they even call on her with devotion. In addition, they await the day of judgment when God will render their deserts to all those who have been raised up from the dead. Finally, they value the moral life and worship God especially through prayer, almsgiving, and fasting.
Since in the course of centuries not a few quarrels and hostilities have arisen between Christians and Muslims, this sacred synod urges all to forget the past and to work sincerely for mutual understanding and to preserve as well as to promote together for the benefit of all mankind social justice and moral welfare, as well as peace and freedom.</blockquote>
There is a footnote toward the beginning of this passage, just after the statement that Muslims “adore the one God, living and subsisting in himself; merciful and all-powerful, the Creator of heaven and earth.” It reads,
<blockquote>Cf. St. Gregory VII, Letter XXI to Anzir (Nacir), King of Mauritania (PL 148, col. 450f.)</blockquote>
Pope St. Gregory VII reigned from 1073 to 1085, and he was one of the great reforming popes of the Middle Ages. He was a key figure in the <a href="https://www.catholic.com/audio/caf/is-china-policy-a-new-investiture-controversy">investiture controversy</a> and promoted the right of the Church—rather than the state—to install bishops and abbots. It was before Gregory that the Holy Roman emperor Henry IV did <a href="https://www.catholic.com/magazine/online-edition/matilda-of-tuscany-the-warrior-countess">penance in the snow</a> at Canossa. Gregory mandated that priests be celibate, and for the efforts of his reign, he died in exile. He was beatified by Gregory XIII in 1584 and canonized by Benedict XIII in 1728.
Unfortunately, few look up the letter that Nostrate Aetate cites. It’s difficult to find the letter in English, but it is revealing about the Medieval Catholic attitude toward Muslims and worth quoting in full so that the relevant statement can go on the record with its full context:
<blockquote>Gregory, bishop, servant of the servants of God, to Anazir, king of the province of Mauretania Sitifensis in Africa, health and apostolic blessing.
Your highness sent to us within a year a request that we would ordain the priest Servandus as bishop according to the Christian order. This we have taken pains to do, as your request seemed proper and of good promise.
You also sent gifts to us, released some Christian captives out of regard for St. Peter, chief of the apostles, and affection for us, and promised to release others. This good action was inspired in your heart by God, the creator of all things, without whom we can neither do nor think any good thing.
He who enlightens every man that comes into the world enlightened your mind in this purpose. For Almighty God, who desires that all men shall be saved and that none shall perish, approves nothing more highly in us than this: that a man love his fellow man next to his God and do nothing to him which he would not that others should do to himself.
This affection we and you owe to each other in a more peculiar way than to people of other races because we worship and confess the same God though in diverse forms and daily praise and adore him as the Creator and ruler of this world. For, in the words of the Apostle, &#8220;He is our peace who has made both one&#8221; (Eph. 2:14).
This grace granted to you by God is admired and praised by many of the Roman nobility who have learned from us of your benevolence and high qualities. Two of these, Alberic and Cencius, intimate friends of ours brought up with us from early youth at the Roman court, earnestly desiring to enjoy your friendship and to serve your interests here, are sending their messengers to you to let you know how highly they regard your prudence and high character and how greatly they desire and are able to be of service to you.
In recommending these messengers to your highness, we beg you to show them, out of regard for us and in return for the loyalty of the men aforesaid, the same respect which we desire always to show toward you and all who belong to you. For God knows our true regard for you to his glory and how truly we desire your prosperity and honor, both in this life and in the life to come, and how earnestly we pray both with our lips and with our heart that God himself, after the long journey of this life, may lead you into the bosom of the most holy patriarch Abraham (Letters 3:21, emphasis added).</blockquote>
This letter is very diplomatic but also revealing. Although Gregory was firm on the clerical investiture of bishops in Christian lands, he was prepared to accept Anazir’s request to have a particular priest ordained as a bishop in a non-Christian land. This is different from European states insisting that they had the right to appoint bishops.
For our purposes, the most important thing is that we see that one of the great reforming and saintly popes of the Middle Ages had no difficulty acknowledging to a Muslim leader that “we worship and confess the same God,” although in “diverse” or different forms, and that both Christians and Muslims “daily praise and adore him as the Creator and ruler of this world.”
It is helpful to be deep in Tradition, and achieving that goal can involve checking the footnotes.

Catholic Tradition, Islam, and God

Agnostics say they just don&#8217;t know the answer to life&#8217;s biggest question. Pat Flynn, Host of Philosophy for the People, says that, while agnostics make some good points, their decision not to decide is ultimately a mistake.

3 Things Agnostics Get Right

In some passages in the Bible, like Abraham bartering with God over Sodom and Gomorrah (Gen. 18) or Jesus at the wedding at Cana (Jn. 2), God appears to change his mind. But how can this be, when philosophy and Catholic theology are adamant that God is utterly unchanging? Jimmy Akin clears up the confusion.

How Can God Change His Mind If He’s Unchanging?

“‘Soberish’ can mean drinking more mindfully, drinking less or avoiding alcohol altogether but not other drugs.”
—Emily Schmall, “<a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2025/01/15/well/alcohol-soberish-health.html">Not Drunk, Not Dry</a>: What It Means to Be ‘Soberish,’” New York Times, January 15, 2025
Periodic abstinence is one of the key ways to maintain a healthy relationship with alcohol, and many Catholics use Lent as the occasion for such a dry spell. The Soberish Septuagesima program builds upon this practice as well as another hallowed tradition.
The Sunday of Septuagesima (pronounced sep-two-a-JAY-see-mah) is the roughly seventieth day before Easter and the beginning of Pre-Lent, a period of gradual voluntary food abstinence that took place in preparation for the Great Fast of Lent. Eastern-rite Christians begin abstaining from meat on the penultimate Sunday before Lent and from dairy products on the Sunday immediately before Lent. Roman-rite Christians, on the other hand, used to abstain from meat on the Sunday before Lent, which they called Domenica Carnevala because it was the time to remove (levare) meat (caro) from one’s diet. It is from carnem levare that our word carnival <a href="https://italoamericano.org/sicily-and-its-carnevale/">originates</a>.
The Soberish Septuagesima Sodality charts a similar course, starting with a gradual change in alcohol consumption and ending with a booze-free, mocktail-rich Lent. The idea is to change yourself both in body and in soul: your body with a regenerated liver,better health, and a new tolerance level, your soul with strong new virtuous habits.
The program consists of:
1) A Menu Schedule for the weeks prior to Easter (see below),
2) Tips for Completing the Program successfully (see <a href="https://drinkingwiththesaints.com/soberish-septuagesima/">here</a>), and
3) Tips for Reentry after completion of the program.
“Soberish Septuagesima Sodality” is a mouthful, but we chose it for a reason. A sodality is not a mere club, but a companionship of believers united in a common cause. That means, among other things, that despite not being in the same place at the same time, we pray for one another. Join the Soberish Septuagesima Sodality, and wherever you are, there are others praying for you. All you have to do is pray for them in return. As for the schedule:
Septuagesima Week
Septuagesima Sunday was on February 16 this year, but no matter; it is not too late to jump in. Your goal this weekend is to abstain from your favorite alcoholic beverage and replace it with something for which you are less enthusiastic. It does not have to be a drink that you find abhorrent. I, for instance, will drink Jägermeister only as an extreme form of penance. Instead, during Septuagesima week, I have abstained from hard liquor in general and limited myself to beer or wine.
But tastes and temperaments differ. If you drink only beer or wine, perhaps your form of mortification is hard liquor. The point is to step outside your comfort zone but without losing the comfort of the bottle—for now. And the goal is to reduce the amount of alcohol you consume.
Finally, use the time we have left to plan. Next week, we will be enjoying mood-enhancing non-alcoholic spirits and spritzes. Take a gander at the recommendations for Sexagesima Week and plan accordingly. You can find this list on our <a href="https://drinkingwiththesaints.com/soberish-septuagesima/">website</a>.
Sexagesima Week
Congratulations! You have already broken some bad habits by refraining from your favorite intoxicating beverage. Now it is time to assert your independence from C2H6O, the active ingredient in alcohol. Providentially, the no- and low-alcoholic spirit industry is teeming with alternatives. Many a producer promises a buzz without the hangover or any of the other side effects of alcohol. Their secret is to use other ingredients that create a relaxing effect on the soul called adaptogens: lion’s mane mushroom, ashwagandha, L-theanine, elderflower, passionflower, kava, etc. We have tested these products, and to our surprise, they work—especially after having toned down prior alcohol consumption.
Shrovetide 
The three days before Ash Wednesday—Quinquagesima Sunday, Shrove Monday, and Shrove Tuesday—were known as Shrovetide because it was a good time to get “shriven,” that is, receive absolution through the sacrament of confession. We concur, and it is also a good time to continue enjoying mood-enhancing nonalcoholic spirits.
Lent
The Great Fast of Lent, as it was once called, extends from Ash Wednesday to Holy Saturday. You can continue with your mood-enhancing beverages if you like, or you can try something new. Nonalcoholic spirits, wine, and beer have reached new heights in recent years. Here are some options. Athletic Brewing Company, for example, sells almost half of nonalcoholic craft beer in the country, and for good reason: their beers are outstanding. And some distillers have done an impressive job mimicking the flavor profiles of gin, bourbon, scotch, tequila, etc. We provide a list of options on our website.
Since you no longer need to have a full stomach (since you’re not drinking), we also recommend observing the traditional Lenten fast, which is one full meal per day at which meat can be consumed (unless it is a Friday or Ash Wednesday), and two other meatless meals that together cannot equal one full meal. (Some rubrics included Saturdays as days of total abstinence from meat as well.) According to today’s Church law, this fast is mandatory only on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday, but when Pope St. Paul VI ended the mandatory fast in 1966, he did so with the hope that all Catholics would continue the fast voluntarily and thus be even more meritorious. As it turns out, he badly misread his flock, and the Great Fast became a thing of the past, but we can still take his advice and observe this worthy practice.
Fasting has numerous health benefits for both body and soul. Regarding the soul, we recall the words of Our Lord: that some demons can only be cast out by prayer and fasting (Matt. 17:20). That may include the demons of drunkenness and addiction.
(The Soberish Septuagesima Sodality can be found on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/dwsaints">Meta</a> and Instagram [drinkingsaints], including updates and encouragement.)

Sanctify Your Drinking in Pre-Lent!

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DAY 183
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CHALLENGE
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How can you believe the Bible is the true word of God? It contains numerous accounts of people saying and doing horrible things.
DEFENSE
So does a typical newspaper.
A newspaper’s job is to report significant things that happened. That doesn’t mean it approves. Newspapers report rapes, murders, and crimes the paper does not approve of. They also report people saying things that the paper’s reporters and editors completely disagree with.
Similarly, just because Scripture records something doesn’t mean it endorses it. It does mean the biblical author thought the event was significant for his audience to know, but it doesn’t mean that he—or God—approved. Scripture records the words and actions of the devil, but the devil’s activities are strongly disapproved of.
Similarly, when Jephthah makes a rash vow that apparently leads to his daughter being sacrificed as a burnt offering (Judg. 11:30–40), the audience is meant to understand his action was barbarous and horrific. Jephthah is only one example of Scripture’s brutal honesty about the leaders of Israel, who were often deeply flawed. Even respected figures like David and Solomon have their blackest sins reported (cf. 2 Sam. 11, 1 Kings 11:1–13).
Consequently, one cannot simply note that Scripture reports someone saying or doing something abominable and conclude that it teaches something abominable. When evaluating such charges, one must ask whether the proposed evil is condemned.
Sometimes, there will be an explicit condemnation (thus the biblical author condemns Solomon’s idolatry; 1 Kings 11:9–10). Other times, the condemnation will be implicit, but clues in the text reveal the dis- approval (as when the daughters of Israel mourn what Jephthah did; Judges 11:39b–40). Or disapproval can be inferred because the action is condemned elsewhere in Scripture (e.g., even if David’s adultery wasn’t explicitly condemned in 2 Sam. 12, we would know his act was wrong because it violates the Ten Commandments; Exod. 20:14, Deut. 5:18).
Finally, our native moral sense can be a clue to the biblical author’s disapproval (e.g., even though David didn’t personally kill Uriah the Hittite, he engineered the man’s death, and even without the explicit condemnation in 2 Sam. 12, the audience would sense he violated the moral prohibition on killing). In general, when our moral sense tells us that something Scripture reports is problematic, it is a clue that Scrip- ture may disapprove too.
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Horrible Things in Scripture

Once, we had a couple of converts to the Catholic faith come by the Catholic Answers office to get a tour of our facility and to meet the apologists who had been instrumental in their conversions. One of the two gave me a letter she had received from her Pentecostal pastor. He had written to her upon his discovery that she was on her way into full communion with the Catholic Church. She asked for advice concerning how to respond, or whether she should respond at all.
As I read through the multiple points her former pastor made, one brought back particular memories for me, because it was one of my favorites to use in evangelizing Catholics back in my Protestant days. The Catholic Church, he warned, teaches “doctrines of demons,” according to the plain words of 1 Timothy 4:1-3:
Now the Spirit expressly says that in later times some will depart from the Faith by giving heed to deceitful spirits and doctrines of demons, through the pretensions of liars whose consciences are seared, who forbid marriage and enjoin abstinence from foods which God created to be received with thanksgiving by those who believe and know the truth.
What is consecrated celibacy if not “forbid[ding] marriage”? And what is mandatory abstinence from meat during the Fridays of Lent if not “enjoin[ing] abstinence from foods which God created to be received with thanksgiving”? So says this Pentecostal pastor. How do we respond?
Despite appearances, there are at least two central reasons these claims fail when held up to deeper scrutiny:
First, St. Paul in 1 Timothy 4 was obviously not condemning consecrated celibacy, because in the very next chapter of this same letter, he instructed Timothy pastorally concerning the proper implementation of consecrated celibacy with regard to “enrolled” widows:
Let a widow be enrolled if she is not less than sixty years of age, having been the wife of one husband . . . well attested for her good deeds. . . . But refuse to enroll younger widows; for when they grow wanton against Christ they desire to marry, and so they incur condemnation for having violated their first pledge (5:9-11).
There is nothing ordinarily wrong with a widow remarrying. Paul himself makes this clear in Romans 7:2-3:
A married woman is bound by law to her husband as long as he lives. . . . But if her husband dies she is free from that law, and if she remarries another man she is not an adulteress.
Yet the “widow” of 1 Timothy 5 is condemned if she remarries? In the words of Ricky Ricardo, Paul has some “‘splainin’ to do.”
The answer lies in the fact that the widow in question had been “enrolled,” which was a first-century equivalent to being “consecrated.” Thus, according to Paul, these “enrolled” widows were not only celibate, but consecrated as such.
Second, Paul was obviously not condemning the Church making abstinence from certain foods mandatory, because the Council of Jerusalem, of which Paul was a key participant in A.D. 49, did just that in declaring concerning Gentile converts,
It has seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us to lay upon you no greater burden than these necessary things: that you abstain from what has been sacrificed to idols and from blood and from what is strangled and from unchastity (Acts 15:28).
This sounds just like &#8220;enjoining abstinence from foods which God created to be received with thanksgiving.&#8221; So there is obviously something more to 1 Timothy 4 than what we get at first glance.
What was Paul actually calling “doctrines of demons”? In A Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scripture, the 1953 classic for Scripture study, Fr. R.J. Foster gives us crucial insight into what Paul was writing about in 1 Timothy 4:
Behind these prohibitions there may lie the dualistic principles which were already apparent in Asia Minor when this epistle was written and which were part of the Gnostic heresy.
Evidently, Paul was writing against what might be termed the founding fathers of the Gnostic movement, which split away from the Church in the first century and would last over 1,000 years, forming many different sects and taking many different forms.
Generally speaking, Gnostics taught that spirit was good and matter was pure evil. We know that <a href="http://www.scborromeo.org/ccc/para/285.htm">some of them even taught</a> that there were two gods, or two eternal principles, that are the sources of all that is. There was a good principle, or god, who created all spirit, whereas an evil principle created the material world.
Moreover, we humans had a pre-human existence, according to the Gnostics, and were in perfect bliss as pure spirits dwelling in light and in the fullness of the gnosis or “knowledge”—perfect bliss, that is, until our parents did something evil: they got married. Through the conjugal act, perfectly pure spirits are snatched out of that perfect bliss and trapped in evil bodies, causing the darkening of the intellect and the loss of the fullness of the gnosis. Thus, salvation would come only through the gaining, or regaining, of the gnosis that the Gnostics alone possessed.
Eating meat was also forbidden because its consumption would bring more evil matter into the body, keeping a person bound to his evil body and further darkening the intellect.
Thus, these early Gnostics forbade “marriage and enjoined abstinence from foods which God created to be received with thanksgiving.”
If there are any remaining doubts as to whom Paul was referring to as teaching &#8220;doctrines of demons,&#8221; he tips his hand in his final exhortation in 1 Timothy 6:20-21:
O Timothy, guard what has been entrusted to you. Avoid the godless chatter and contradictions of what is falsely called knowledge, for by professing it some have missed the mark as regards faith. Grace be with you.
The Greek word translated above as “knowledge” is gnoseos. Sound familiar?
The bottom line is this: Paul was not condemning the Catholic Church in 1 Timothy 4; he was warning against the early Gnostics, who were leading Christians astray via their “gnosis,” which was no true gnosis at all.

Catholic ‘Doctrines of Demons’

Have you ever heard something like this before?
If pro-lifers really cared about ending abortion, they’d give out contraception to prevent unintended pregnancies. But they don&#8217;t really want to do anything practical to help end abortion—they just want to punish women who have sex!
Of course, even if pro-lifers were hypocrites, their argument that abortion kills an innocent human being would still be correct. But are pro-life advocates hypocrites if they don’t promote contraception? No, and here’s why.
The goal of the pro-life movement is to restore the right to life of unborn human beings. Does promoting contraception help or hinder that goal?
I think it’s safe to say contraception doesn’t help that goal. Birth control pills and condoms don’t teach people that unborn children are biological human beings who are entitled to the same basic rights you and I possess. To many people, contraception just prevents “pregnancy,” or it prevents a “potential person” (who will one day become a baby) from being created inside a woman. There’s nothing hypocritical about pro-life advocates&#8217; not promoting contraception, because it doesn’t do anything to help our ultimate goal of changing both public opinion and public policy to protect unborn children from harm.
But critics might respond by saying that using contraception could prevent some abortions from happening, and don’t pro-lifers still care about accomplishing that goal? Yes, but that doesn’t mean every way to accomplish that goal should be used. Contraception teaches couples that unborn children are objects who are valuable only if the couple &#8220;wants&#8221; a child. Pope John Paul II wrote in Evangelium Vitae,
<blockquote>It may be that many people use contraception with a view to excluding the subsequent temptation of abortion. But the negative values inherent in the &#8220;contraceptive mentality&#8221;-which is very different from responsible parenthood, lived in respect for the full truth of the conjugal act-are such that they in fact strengthen this temptation when an unwanted life is conceived (emphasis added). Indeed, the pro- abortion culture is especially strong precisely where the Church&#8217;s teaching on contraception is rejected (13).</blockquote>
Unborn children have not only a right to life, but also a right to be created by parents who love them and are willing to make sacrifices for the child’s good. However, contraception use creates a mentality that views children as a “negative side effect” of sex, or even a disease, whose interests are superseded by their parents&#8217; desire for sexual union just for its own sake. This attitude is especially common among the <a href="http://www.guttmacher.org/pubs/US-Abortion-Patients.pdf">85 percent of unmarried couples</a> who seek abortions.
It shouldn&#8217;t be surprising, then, that the Supreme Court once even affirmed that one reason abortion must stay legal is because women rely on it when contraception fails. In Planned Parenthood v. Casey, the Court said that Roe v. Wade
<blockquote>could not be repudiated without serious inequity to people who, for two decades of economic and social developments, have organized intimate relationships and made choices that define their views of themselves and their places in society, in reliance on the availability of abortion in the event that contraception should fail.</blockquote>
I’m all in favor of teaching people how to <a href="http://ccli.org/nfp/">responsibly </a><a href="http://ccli.org/nfp/">plan their families</a>, but if contraception fosters an attitude that unborn children are disposable (and in some forms <a href="http://www.abort73.com/abortion_facts/which_birth_control_methods_cause_abortion/">could be abortifacient</a>), then it shouldn’t be promoted as the way to achieve the goals of the pro-life movement.
Promoting contraception may also reinforce attitudes towards sex and pregnancy that conflict with the goal of creating a culture of life. On one university campus, a group of students chastised me for not passing out condoms. I told them I didn’t have to, because the campus health center gave condoms away for free. One man responded, “But the center is all the way on the other side of campus. I don’t want to have to walk all the way over there just for condoms. You guys should be passing them out here.” If this man were too lazy to walk a few hundred yards for condoms, why in the world would we expect him to work hard to provide for a child should the condom fail and his partner become pregnant?
Pro-life advocates should not be suckered into thinking that abortion is a public health problem that we have to help alleviate by dispensing contraceptives as “the cure.” We must continue to teach our culture that abortion is a moral problem and that the unborn deserve cultural recognition and legal protection as a remedy.
Granted, it will be easier to pass laws against abortion when fewer people seek abortion services, so there is value in developing strategies to reduce unintended pregnancies. But pro-life advocates should not have to compromise their belief that the unborn are human beings just so that everyone can “play nice together.” Instead, we must refocus our strategy and find better ways to achieve the goal of restoring legal protection for unborn human beings.

Pro-Lifers Should Question Contraception

Was St. Patrick a Baptist?

<div>Are we obligated to forgive someone who has not asked for forgiveness? </div><div>Yes, we must forgive him. As Jesus makes clear in the Sermon on the Mount after providing the Lord’s Prayer, “For if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father also will forgive you; but if you do not forgive men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses” (Matt. 6:14-15). Jesus sets the example on the cross in asking his Father to forgive those who have crucified him.
On the other hand, we need not necessarily associate with a person we forgive, especially if the wrongdoing he has committed against us is grave. And even if someone has repented of a grave offense, we need not necessarily associate with him. For example, if a woman has been sexually assaulted by a friend, she is morally obligated to forgive that friend but not morally obligated to continue having a friendship.
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Should I Forgive Someone Who Hasn’t Repented?

John 3:5—Jesus’ words about being “born of water and Spirit”—is one of the strongest biblical proofs for baptismal regeneration. But not everyone agrees that he’s talking about baptism here. Some Christians push back with a familiar objection: if salvation is a free gift of God, not based on anything we do, and baptism is something we do, then it can’t possibly be the way God gives salvation.
Protestant author Todd Baker makes this argument in his book <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Exodus-Rome-Biblical-Historical-Catholicism/dp/1491724706/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1EWWVDZK84W0Z&amp;dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.K8a96IlUbwcWMMBfq4LaPDdKVN7aKBMa6_hO0U9CbkR7kF-BGBKPUw62OuzuThvPlvutR6RYt57YHWusbAI4mRxfO_Qw23NyV4Ccwi2ryW2Ssmy3_5kYSdlXmQUkcavtBF9qT1qRHTaMe4iJBCVBYA2zJtjJ4zTGIDNH9ll6ATHzPGsqnGjEbdyzUi9bEyGpSYRlZ4LZZY1uv7NdksJxpuNn6Bi1qmqPgolVW4HrpZQ.rOKdNNS8-K1nXDtMn-xcpaJupvwgbtvGnJFH-Xw5dJA&amp;dib_tag=se&amp;keywords=exodus+from+rome&amp;qid=1755207926&amp;sprefix=exodus+from+rom%2Caps%2C135&amp;sr=8-1">Exodus from Rome</a> (Vol. I). For Baker, the idea that baptism saves “contradicts every passage in the Bible where the reader is plainly informed that salvation is a gift of God’s unmerited grace, not of works, or anything the sinner does to earn it (e.g., John 3:16; Rom. 10:9-10; Eph. 2:8-9).”
Baker makes his argument based on the assumption that Catholics (and all believers in baptismal regeneration) believe that baptism is a work that merits the gift of initial salvation—which, of course, does contradict Ephesians 2:8-9: “You have been saved by grace and not of works.”
But this assumption is false. Catholics don’t believe that baptism merits the gift of salvation. Rather, we believe that baptism is the means stipulated by Christ by which he intends to give us the gift of salvation, not a work that merits the gift. The stipulation of a means doesn’t entail an act that merits.
For example, Cy Kellett, the host of Catholic Answers Live, often tells those who call in to the show, “We want to give you a book as a gift. Just hang on the line, give us your mailing address, and we’ll send it to you.” Does the caller’s act of giving the call screener his mailing address, receiving the gift in the mail, and opening the package merit the gift? No. The gift is a gift, even if there is a specific way that the recipient must receive it.
Protestants even teach that a person is saved, or justified, on account of a profession of faith—a profession that is often verbalized at an altar call. Yet they don’t think such a profession of faith “merits” the gift of salvation, or justification. Rather, they teach that faith is the instrument of justification.
Thus, the Catholic view of baptism being the instrument of salvation is no more a meritorious work than a Protestant’s view of faith being the instrument of salvation.
Moreover, the interior regeneration that we believe takes place in baptism—the transference from a state of unrighteousness to a state of righteousness—is nothing of our own doing. It is entirely an act of God. Only he can bring about such a change within us. Therefore, according to a Catholic understanding, baptism is a not a work in the way that Baker thinks it is. And given that Baker’s argument here is based on a flawed assumption, it has no force against the baptismal interpretation of the second birth.
Baker, however, has another counterargument that latches on to what was said above—namely, that spiritual rebirth is something that only God can bring about. He <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Exodus-Rome-Biblical-Historical-Catholicism/dp/1491724706/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1EWWVDZK84W0Z&amp;dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.K8a96IlUbwcWMMBfq4LaPDdKVN7aKBMa6_hO0U9CbkR7kF-BGBKPUw62OuzuThvPlvutR6RYt57YHWusbAI4mRxfO_Qw23NyV4Ccwi2ryW2Ssmy3_5kYSdlXmQUkcavtBF9qT1qRHTaMe4iJBCVBYA2zJtjJ4zTGIDNH9ll6ATHzPGsqnGjEbdyzUi9bEyGpSYRlZ4LZZY1uv7NdksJxpuNn6Bi1qmqPgolVW4HrpZQ.rOKdNNS8-K1nXDtMn-xcpaJupvwgbtvGnJFH-Xw5dJA&amp;dib_tag=se&amp;keywords=exodus+from+rome&amp;qid=1755207926&amp;sprefix=exodus+from+rom%2Caps%2C135&amp;sr=8-1">writes</a>,
<blockquote>Nothing in this world can generate the power of spiritual rebirth; flesh can produce only flesh. Although things in nature, like water, wind, and physical birth, are symbols to picture and describe how spiritual rebirth from God occurs, and the particular effects it has on the person who believes in Jesus Christ for salvation.
Even in the beginning of John’s Gospel, the reader is told that the power of spiritual rebirth, whereby the believer in Christ becomes a child of God, is not an act that can be exercised by human act of will, or physical generation, or performance of any kind—the act of sacramental baptism included—but is a supernatural, sovereign act of God alone, bestowed upon those who believe in Jesus Christ. Those who are baptized do so by an act of their own will. The new birth is altogether different from this; it is an act of God! . . .
So then, “born of water” in John 3:5 cannot mean the physical rite of baptism as the agent for spiritual rebirth; it must mean something else.</blockquote>
So, for Baker, since the spiritual rebirth is an act of God, it cannot involve any human act. And since the ritual of water baptism involves a human act, it follows that the spiritual rebirth can’t be a reference to ritual water baptism.
The problem with this line of reasoning is that it would preclude humans being involved in several things that the Bible affirms humans are involved in when God exercises his sovereignty.
Consider, for example, the healing of the lame beggar that Peter performs in Acts 3:1-10. The effect of the miracle can be brought about only by God. Yet that doesn’t mean Peter’s action isn’t involved. God used Peter as an instrumental cause to bring about the miraculous effect.
Consider also Paul’s teaching that we are justified by “faith.” Faith is a gift that God alone can give. Yet the act of faith itself, which God moves us to engage in, involves the act of our intellect, moved by the will, to assent to what God reveals and the act of directing our hearts and minds to God as our ultimate supernatural end. That’s human action, actualized within us by God.
More examples abound. In John 16:8, we’re told that the Spirit will convict the world of sin and righteousness. However, we know that the Spirit uses preachers to establish that conviction. Life itself is from God, yet God uses the actions of a human mother and father to be participants in giving that life to us.
One more example, which perhaps relates best to our topic at hand: Jesus in John 9:1-7 heals a blind man. And he intentionally involves the blind man’s action—namely, Jesus commands him to go and wash his eyes in the pool of Siloam. Once the blind man does that human act, Jesus heals him.
So just because an effect is brought about by God alone, like the spiritual rebirth, that doesn’t necessarily exclude human action, like ritual water baptism. It’s God’s prerogative to will ritual water baptism to be the means or instrument through which he communicates the blessing.
In the end, Baker’s reasoning falters because it assumes that God’s sovereign action excludes any human involvement. Scripture repeatedly shows that God often brings about supernatural effects through human instruments—whether it’s healing the sick, proclaiming the gospel, or even giving physical life itself. Baptism, in the Catholic view, fits this same biblical pattern: it’s not a human work that earns salvation, but the divinely chosen means by which God imparts it.
Thus, “born of water and Spirit” in John 3:5 can rightly be understood as baptism without undermining God’s grace or sovereignty.