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Although our salvation doesn’t depend on knowing the exact date of Christ’s birth, nor is the Church likely ever to make a dogmatic definition regarding this date, it is a matter of interest to anyone who knows and loves Jesus Christ. In this article, <a href="https://cybersky.software.informer.com/">modern</a> astronomy <a href="https://store.simulationcurriculum.com/products/starry-night-pro-8">software</a> and ancient historical documents (including but not limited to the Bible) will offer one perspective on the star of Bethlehem that heralded our Redeemer’s birth.
The three scholars who deserve the most credit for this research are <a href="https://bethlehemstar.com/">Frederick Larson</a>, <a href="https://a.co/d/6kaOiNC">Timothy Norris</a>, and <a href="https://www.catholic.com/audio/ddp/the-star-of-bethlehem-and-astrology">Jimmy Akin</a>. What follows is a partial timeline of the Christ Event, from his conception in Mary’s womb to the adoration of the Magi. Powerful new software and the regularity of Kepler’s planetary motion laws offer a plausible case for the precision of each date. After this timeline, verses from the Bible and other ancient documents will provide historical support for each claim.
<h2>September, 3 B.C.</h2>
Jesus was conceived in Mary’s womb. After a close conjunction of Jupiter and Venus on August 12, Jupiter (the King Planet) began a rare triple conjunction with Regulus (the King Star), essentially crowning it with a halo pattern. The conjunction dates were Sep. 14, Feb. 17, and May 8. The celestial coronation took place in the constellation Leo. Just after sunset on Sep. 11, the constellation that rose in the east behind Leo was Virgo, the Virgin, literally “clothed with the Sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars” (Rev. 12:1). It was a new moon at her feet, coinciding with the Jewish New Year (Rosh Hashanah). The Magi, familiar with Jewish prophecies of the Messiah, definitely took notice.

<h2>June, 2 B.C.</h2>
Nine months after his conception, Jesus was born in Bethlehem. When Jupiter had finished crowning Regulus in May, it formed a close conjunction with Venus (the Mother Planet) on June 17, such that the separation between the two would have been imperceptible to the naked eye. Light from each planet added to the other, forming the most brilliant star that had ever been seen. (The Jupiter-Venus conjunction of June 17, 2 B.C. has been the brightest such conjunction in human history.) The Magi departed in haste from Babylon towards Bethlehem.
<h2>December, 2 B.C.</h2>
The first Epiphany: the Magi arrived in Bethlehem and adored the Christ child. Jupiter had proceeded ahead of the Magi, first leading them westward toward Jerusalem and then stopping (in full retrograde motion) on December 25 over the town of Bethlehem. Jesus would have been a six-month-old baby by this time, no longer in a temporary cave-stable but now in a small house built by Joseph.
At this point, let’s make the case for the claims above. The first fact to demonstrate is that King Herod died in 1 B.C., not 4 B.C. This is extremely important, because if Herod died in 4 B.C., as is widely believed, the star of Bethlehem would have appeared before then. In fact, the great mathematician and astronomer, Johannes Kepler (1571-1630), wrote two books on the subject, De stella nova (1606) and De anno natali Christi (1614). Unfortunately, he didn’t find much in the stars of 7, 6, and 5 B.C. His careful calculations could reproduce the celestial map with astonishing accuracy, but he sadly missed the star because he was searching in the wrong years.
Kepler’s mistaken idea that Herod had died in 4 B.C. was based on the historical scholarship of his time. Historian David Beyer has argued that a widely accepted reading of Josephus, which suggests that Herod died in 4 B.C., came from a transcription error introduced in a 1544 printed edition of Josephus’s Antiquities of the Jews (Book 18, chapter 4, section 106; see also David W. Beyer, “Josephus Re-examined,” available <a href="https://www.book-info.com/isbn/0-86554-582-0.htm">here</a>.) According to Beyer, nearly all the pre-1544 editions and manuscripts he reviewed in the British Library and Library of Congress stated that Herod Philip (who succeeded Herod the Great) died in the twenty-second year of Tiberius&#8217;s reign. The 1544 edition, however, changed this to the twentieth year of Tiberius. The “twentieth year” reading would place Herod the Great’s death in 4 B.C. Presumably working from a post-1544 edition of Josephus, Kepler would have accepted the 4 B.C. death date.
Besides the transcription error, there are more important reasons to reject the 4 B.C. date of Herod’s death. Historian Gerard Gertoux has published a tour de force of research <a href="https://www.academia.edu/2518046/Herod_the_Great_and_Jesus_Chronological_Historical_and_Archaeological_Evidence">here</a>, and Jimmy Akin’s findings agree with Gertoux’s. Although historian Emil Schürer’s claim that Herod died in 4 B.C. has retained widespread acceptance over the last hundred years, it rests on weak foundations. Akin critiques these foundations based on the following key points from Josephus and related evidence. He also builds a case for Herod the Great dying in 1 B.C. (specifically between the lunar eclipse on January 10, 1 B.C., and Passover on April 11, 1 B.C., likely closer to the latter).
1. Herod&#8217;s appointment as king in 40 B.C. leading to a thirty-six- or thirty-seven-year reign:
Josephus states that Herod was appointed king in the 184th Olympiad (ending mid-40 B.C.) during the consulship of Calvinus and Pollio (which began late 40 B.C.). This creates an impossible contradiction, as the dates do not overlap. External Roman sources (Appian and Dio Cassius) place the appointment in 39 B.C. Josephus reckons reigns non-inclusively (not counting partial first years in this period). Starting the count from the first full year (38 B.C.) and then adding thirty-seven years leads to a death in 1 B.C.
2. Length of reign after conquering Jerusalem (thirty-four years):
Josephus states that Herod died thirty-four years after obtaining his kingdom by slaying Antigonus (i.e., conquering Jerusalem), but he provides contradictory dates for the conquest. Some details point to 37 B.C., whereas others (e.g., exactly twenty-seven years after Pompey&#8217;s conquest in 63 B.C., and the end of 126 years of Hasmonean rule starting in 162 B.C.) point to 36 B.C. This inconsistency undermines using 37 B.C. as a firm anchor for a 4 B.C. death. However, using non-inclusive reckoning of the thirty-four-year period, we can infer a possible death date in either 2 B.C. or 1 B.C.
3. The lunar eclipse shortly before Herod&#8217;s death and Passover:
Josephus places Herod&#8217;s death between a lunar eclipse and Passover, with numerous events (requiring significant time and travel of many different people) in between. Advocates of a 4 B.C. death cite a partial lunar eclipse on March 13, 4 B.C., twenty-nine days before Passover. The twenty-nine-day gap is too short to accommodate all the events and travel Josephus describes between the eclipse and Herod&#8217;s death (estimated minimum forty-one days, more realistically sixty to ninety days). However, a total lunar eclipse occurred on Jan. 10, 1 B.C., eighty-nine days before Passover, which better matches Josephus&#8217;s description due to the sufficient time gap. Additionally, since Josephus does not specify a partial lunar eclipse, a total eclipse aligns better.
4. Evidence that Herod&#8217;s sons assumed office in 4 B.C.:
This does not prove that Herod died then, as it was common for aging rulers to appoint successors as co-rulers during their lifetime to ease succession and reduce pressure. Historical evidence shows that Herod did grant his sons governing authority before his death.
5. Testimony of the Church Fathers:
Many Church Fathers asserted a birth date of Christ in 3/2 B.C., necessitating a death date of Herod later than 4 B.C. and around 1 B.C. These Fathers included St. Irenaeus, St. Clement of Alexandria, Julius Africanus, St. Hippolytus, Eusebius, and Epiphanius, with Tertullian and Origen joining them.
Now that we’ve proven a 1 B.C. date for Herod’s death, let’s demonstrate the dates of the infant Christ’s timeline. We will proceed in chronological order:
<h2>September, 3 B.C.</h2>
The Magi weren’t just random stargazers. Most likely they were descendants of Daniel, the prophet brought to Babylon by Nebuchadnezzar. The Bible provides plenty of clues for this. In Daniel 2:48, Nebuchadnezzar makes Daniel the chief wise man (magus) of his court. In Daniel 5:11, Belshazzar’s queen reminds the king that Daniel, the chief magus, can interpret dreams and visions. In Daniel 6:28, we see that Daniel prospered in the reigns of Darius and Cyrus, implying his tremendous influence on the kingdom (including the school of magi). Daniel’s famous prophecy of weeks of years (sixty-nine sets of seven years each) in Daniel 9:24-27, predicted both the coming of Christ and the destruction of the Temple.
The point is that Daniel, a devout Jew whose God was respected and protected by King Cyrus, would have trained magi to watch the stars for signs of the Messiah. This is why the Magi took notice of the triple conjunction of Jupiter and Regulus in the constellation Leo, representing the Lion of Judah (a type of Christ mentioned in Gen. 49:8-10, 2 Sam. 7:12-14, and Rev. 5:5). It also explains how they knew the prophecy of Micah and why they wanted to worship the newborn King:
<blockquote>In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born.  They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet: ‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel” (Matt. 2:1-6).</blockquote>
<h2>June, 2 B.C.</h2>
The Gospel of Luke notes that John the Baptist began his ministry in the “fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar” (Luke 3:1). Tiberius assumed the throne after Augustus died in August A.D. 14, but Roman historians such as Tacitus and Suetonius typically started counting an emperor’s regnal years from the following January 1, ignoring any partial year. Using this standard method, the fifteenth year of Tiberius would run through what we know as A.D. 29. (A regnal year is counted similarly to a person’s age: the “fifteenth year” spans from the end of the fourteenth year to the end of the fifteenth.)
Jesus began his own ministry shortly after John’s, so his public work probably started around A.D. 29 as well. Luke adds another key detail: at the start of his ministry, Jesus was “about thirty years old” (3:23). Counting back roughly thirty years from A.D. 29, and remembering there is no year zero in the transition from B.C. to A.D., we are brought to 2 B.C. as <a href="https://jimmyakin.com/2013/04/what-year-was-jesus-born-the-answer-may-surprise-you.html">the most likely birth year</a>.
<h2>December, 2 B.C.</h2>
In Matthew 2:9, we read, “When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was.” This was the town of Bethlehem, five miles south of Jerusalem. Jupiter was in full retrograde motion that night, the first Epiphany, on December 25. This is not why December 25 was chosen to celebrate Our Lord’s Nativity each year, but it is an interesting coincidence demonstrated by modern astronomy software.
<h2>Conclusion</h2>
Although history and science can never dictate our faith, it is always helpful to see that neither history nor science can contradict it. This is because truth can’t contradict truth. If Christ entered human history through the Incarnation, it is not surprising that he would allow us to use history and science to discover his birth date.
In any case, the most important thing to contemplate as we celebrate Christmas is that “the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).

A Modern Take on Christ’s Birth Date

How is it that we can call Mary, our life, our sweetness and our hope in the Hail Holy Queen?

As a Latin rite Catholic attending a Byzantine church. Should I follow the customs of the west or of the east when it comes to my children receiving the sacraments?

Could there be other creation aside from angelic beings that have knowledge and reason?

When the teaching on infallibility was declared during Vatican 1, they sighted hundreds of instances of infallibility being used. Now we hear that infallibility has only been used twice. Why is there a discrepancy?

What platform should you vote for if one supports the death penalty and the other supports abortion?

Is it a sin of omission if someone passed away and I never offered masses for them if I knew they did something wrong?

Ask Me Anything

Will our heavenly Father still hold us to account for the sins we’ve confessed?

If someone was raised Catholic but no longer practicing, does that mean that they’re doomed?

What are the earliest documented records of the Immaculate Conception?

What’s the best argument against atheism?

What does the Church teach about speaking in tongues?

In 2003, Pope St. John Paul II, quoting the 1971 General Instruction of the Liturgy of the Hours, wrote, “We need silence ‘if we are to accept in our hearts the full resonance of the voice of the Holy Spirit and to unite our personal prayer more closely to the Word of God and the public voice of the Church.’” The value of silence in the liturgy has nevertheless remained a controversial and misunderstood topic.
In the Church’s liturgical tradition, the use of silence, or the recitation of texts very quietly, can have four distinct functions. First, for the celebrant to recite a text silently can be a sign that the text is addressed not to the people, but to God. This is why the “priestly prayers” such as the Lavabo (“Wash away my iniquity . . .”) are said silently in both the traditional and the reformed versions of the Mass.
Secondly, the celebrant may say certain texts silently to allow singing to take place. The Offertory prayers are said silently in the traditional Mass, and they may optionally be said silently in the reformed Mass. All or part of this time can be used for singing.
Thirdly, from at least the fifth century, the Eucharistic Prayer (the Canon) came to be said silently. (This practice is not followed in the reformed Mass.) In this case, the silence is a marker of its special holiness, like the disappearance from view of the clergy, behind the icon screen or iconostasis, in the East. If singing a text gives it greater solemnity, then saying it silently is a sign of a still greater level of importance.
Fourthly, there is silence as pause, a silent interval for the worshiper’s private prayer between texts that are proclaimed aloud. This is a feature of the rubrics of the reformed Mass and was introduced in some situations in liturgical reforms before Vatican II, in 1955 and 1960.
When silence in the liturgy is promoted in the context of the reformed Mass, as by John Paul II quoted above, it is most likely that this last type of silence is intended. Another kind of silence that John Paul felt the need to defend was the silence of the congregation, when this is called for: “Active participation does not preclude the active passivity of silence, stillness, and listening” (address to the bishops of the northwestern United States, 1998).
The liturgical reform greatly limited the place of silence in the Mass, in theory, and still more in practice. (The silent Offertory option is not widely used.) Pope St. Paul VI noted that with the reform, “pious persons” and “even priests” would have to adjust their way of participating in Mass: “They will feel shaken out of their usual thoughts and obliged to follow those of others” (general audience, November 26, 1969).
One way of understanding the liturgical reform, then, is this. Instead of having texts recited in silence, to establish a kind of background to our prayers, the texts are to be read aloud, and we are to be silent while listening intently to them, or else we are to reflect on them in a short pause after they have been recited. We will be obliged to follow the thoughts of others.
This, however, is not quite right. As the passage from the General Instruction of the Liturgy of the Hours, promulgated by Paul VI only two years after the general audience already quoted, indicates, it is not only our own thoughts that are allowed play by periods of silence, but also those of the Holy Spirit. A longer quotation from this document illustrates the dilemma faced by the liturgical reformers.
<blockquote>In order to receive in our hearts the full sound of the voice of the Holy Spirit and to unite our personal prayer more closely with the word of God and the public voice of the Church, it is permissible, as occasion offers and prudence suggests, to have an interval of silence. . . .
Care must be taken to avoid the kind of silence that would disturb the structure of the office or annoy and weary those taking part (General Instruction of the Liturgy of the Hours 1971, 202).</blockquote>
One the one hand, there is a danger that a torrent of words actually impedes the worshipers’ engagement with the liturgy, which is not, in the last analysis, about following the thoughts of the liturgy planning committee or even those of the composers of the liturgical texts; rather it is a matter primarily of listening to the Holy Spirit. On the other hand, attempting to avoid this problem can lead to another: a series of awkward, artificial gaps interrupting the flow of the liturgy, begetting annoyance or weariness: “molestiam seu tædium.”
The Catechism of the Catholic Church returns to this problem in its section on prayer, where it compares contemplative prayer with liturgical prayer:
<blockquote>Entering into contemplative prayer is like entering into the eucharistic liturgy: we “gather up” the heart, recollect our whole being under the prompting of the Holy Spirit, abide in the dwelling place of the Lord which we are, awaken our faith in order to enter into the presence of him who awaits us (2711).</blockquote>
As the Catechism points out, contemplative prayer is the highest form of prayer, and though it may take its starting point from a text, it is not about following anyone’s thoughts; rather, it is about allowing the Holy Spirit to lead you where he wants to take you. As Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, before his election as Pope Benedict XVI, put it, with great force, referring to the traditional Mass,
<blockquote>anyone who has experienced a church united in the silent praying of the Canon will know what a really filled silence is. It is at once a loud and penetrating cry to God and a Spirit-filled act of prayer (The Spirit of the Liturgy, p. 215).</blockquote>
It seems that the Church’s conversation about silence in the liturgy has not yet drawn to a conclusion.

4 Benefits to Silence in the Mass

<div>Where in the Old Testament is it prophesied that the Messiah will be a Nazarene, as Mathew states in the beginning of his Gospel?</div><div>These words, as you indicate, are asserted in Matthew 2:23. No Old Testament prophecy corresponds to these precise words. There are two different, yet related, main scholarly explanations to illustrate what St. Matthew is attempting to say in this passage.
According to the first, Matthew apparently paraphrases in summary form the words of several prophets. The paraphrase is based on Jesus’ boyhood home, Nazareth, and a similar-sounding Hebrew word netser, which is translated as “sprout,” “shoot,” or “branch.” Recall that the Holy Family fled to Egypt because of the murderous machinations of Herod the Great, who feared the Christ Child as a potential royal competitor and thus slaughtered every male child under two in Bethlehem and the neighboring area (Matt. 2:16-18). They returned to reside in Nazareth after word came that Herod the Great had died (Matt. 2:19-20).
Scripture affirms that Jesus came to restore the throne of his ancestor King David (Luke 1:31-33) and that he is “the King of kings” (Rev. 17:14). Isaiah prophesizes that a “branch” (netser or netzer) will sprout from the stump of Jesse (the father of David), indicating that the kingdom of David that had been destroyed by the Babylonians in 586 B.C. would one day be restored. Subsequent prophets such as Jeremiah use this same branch image to speak of the anticipated Messiah-king (Jeremiah 23:5, 33:14-16).
According to the second interpretation, Jesus’ Nazareth residence is the providential fulfillment of the Messiah’s mission not only for the Jews but all nations, i.e., “Gentiles” (Matt. 28:18-20, Is. 66:18ff., Amos 9:11ff.). Nazareth is in Galilee, which in Jesus’ day was known for having a mixed population of Jews and Gentiles.
In both cases, the argument is that had Matthew intended to cite an exact prophetic quotation from the Old Testament, he would have cited a specific prophet, instead of saying summarily, as he does, &#8220;the prophets&#8221; (Matt. 2:23).
</div>

“He Shall Be Called a Nazarene:” Where in Old Testament?

How can the Catholic Church teach that our justification is a process when the Letter to the Romans says that our justification is a one-time event? Karlo Broussard can&#8217;t help himself, he just has to keep meeting Protestant challenges to Catholic belief.

What Justifies a Christian?

<div>Who--or what--is the Holy Spirit? Is He truly the Spirit of God--a God Who Himself is a spirit? Is the Holy Spirit a spirit of a spirit?</div><div>The Holy Spirit is a divine person, one of the three members of the Holy Trinity (Father, Son and Holy Spirit). The Holy Trinity is three divine persons in one God, with each person wholly possessing the same divine nature—thus their unity.
Each member of the Trinity is a divine spirit, but one member is named the “Holy Spirit,” clearly revealed to us by God the Son in the New Testament. Jesus, God the Son who is also known as the Incarnate Word, sent the Holy Spirit on Pentecost (John 16:13; see Acts 2), which is known as the birthday of the Church, i.e., the day “the Church was made manifest to the world” (CCC 1076).
For more information on the Holy Spirit, please see CCC 687ff.
</div>

Who Is the Holy Spirit?

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What are the reasons a person might hear voices?

My spiritual director has been cautioning me against treating novenas and relics like magic. But in last Sunday’s gospel we hear of the woman who was healed because she believed if she touched Jesus’ clothes she would be healed. How can one have that k...

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I had an experience in early youth that led to my conversion later in life. Have you heard anything like that before? What kind of experience is this?

A Former Protestant’s Journey to the Catholic Church. Joshua Charles is one of the rising stars of the Millennial generation. A bestselling author, historian, researcher, and international speaker, he is a passionate defender of America’s Founding Principles, Judeo-Christian civilization, and the Catholic faith, to which he converted in 2018. He loves telling, and helping others tell, great stories that communicate great truths.

How the Church Fathers Made Me Catholic

“I beheld water issuing out from the temple, on the right-hand side, alleluia: and all to whom that water came were saved, and they shall say: Alleluia, alleluia.”
Blood and water. It doesn’t get much more basic than that. St. Faustina’s image of the Divine Mercy, which Holy Church brings to our sight today, shows us the overflowing love of the Sacred Heart in the simplest terms we can imagine. The heart of Jesus is, in the words of our missal, the “shrine of heavenly bounty” that pours forth for us “floods of grace and compassion” (from the Preface of the Sacred Heart). According to that same prayer, the shrine was “manifest” when pierced by the spear on the cross—so again, blood and water.
St. John’s epistle also emphasizes blood and water. This is in part a reference to that scene at the cross, witnessed by St. John.
What’s the deal with blood and water? At major festivals, prior to the destruction of the Temple in A.D. 70, there was so much animal blood from the altar of sacrifice that a series of channels was designed to drain the blood off the side of the Temple Mount down into the neighboring Kidron valley, where it would eventually mingle with the water of the brook—a brook that many people would cross when entering into the holy city.
So when we speak of the flow of blood and water “manifesting” Christ’s sacred heart, part of what the tradition means is that this moment reveals most perfectly his identity as the new Temple. Jesus already hinted at this in his teaching—“he spoke of the temple of his body” (John 2:21). But here we get another confirmation, as well as an eschatological identification of Jesus with the new temple prophesied in Ezekiel 47. That prophecy forms the core text of the Vidi Aquam version of the Asperges that we sing in Eastertide: “I beheld water issuing out from the temple . . . and all to whom that water came were saved.” Jesus is this new temple, and the saving water is the sacrament of baptism.
But water is only the beginning. We also need the blood.
If I can jump ahead to the conclusion, we should remember that full sacramental initiation in the Church consists of three sacraments: baptism, confirmation, and Holy Eucharist. Confirmation is an extension and strengthening of baptismal grace, so we could group it with baptism here. The point is the blood: not just water, but water and blood.
In the offertory rites of the Eucharist, wine is mixed with water. Maybe you know the beautiful ancient prayer accompanying this action. It goes like this:
<blockquote>O God who didst wondrously create, and yet more wondrously renew the dignity of man’s nature: grant that by the mystery of this water and wine we may be made partakers of his divinity, as he vouchsafed to become partaker of our humanity, even Jesus Christ thy Son our Lord.</blockquote>
The ancient and medieval commentators love meditating on this symbolism of wine and water. One of the reasons they think it so important to include water in the offertory rites is that it stands for humanity: to skip the mingled water and wine would be to skip the union of Christ’s divinity and humanity. The substances remain distinct, yet they cannot at this point be separated; they remain together in a single cup. But, in another layer of meaning, the wine and water also recall—because the wine is destined to become the Precious Blood—the profusion of blood and water from the side of Christ. So the integrity of the offertory rite is tied to the integrity of the sacrifice, which is also tied to the integrity of our sacramental initiation: baptism is what it is only when it leads us into the mystery of communion with Christ. And we cannot commune with Christ until we have been born again. As one twelfth-century writer puts it, “these ought to be joined, therefore, because the font of baptism is of no profit without the blood of Christ, nor the blood without baptism; both flowed from the side of Christ. He who removes one does not imitate the mystery of the passion.”
Through these natural, traditional, and sacramental signs, we see again the fundamental message of the Lord: mercy. As Faustina puts it, “you expired, Jesus, but the source of life gushed forth for souls, and the ocean of mercy opened up for the whole world.” Amazing that this simple, uneducated nun could intuit this concept so clearly. Blood and water are both signs of life. Jesus wants to give us life. His life. The life of God.
God is merciful. That is one of the most prominent divine descriptions we read in Scripture. It is the first word used to describe God the Father in the Roman Canon, which has been used since time immemorial: “Therefore, most merciful Father . . .” (Te igitur, clementissime Pater).
Mercy is a stance of pity or forgiveness toward another party. We should therefore pause a bit before attributing it to the Godhead in a simple way, lest we imagine that God’s nature requires people to forgive for him to be God. Perhaps the more precise thing to say is that mercy is a temporal aspect of God’s eternal charity. Mercy is God’s sharing of himself with us in time. “Source of life” and “ocean of mercy” are the same divine reality. In other words, although we associate mercy most directly with the forgiveness of sins, God’s mercy is not an act of external justice, where the judge applies a law that stands outside himself. It is, rather, an opening of the divine life. Absolution from sin isn’t a strict judge relenting from the appointed punishment so much as it is that the divine Son performs a kind of CPR on our souls, breathing his own breath back into our being.
I wanted to say something more about our readings from Acts and 1 John, but I think I’ve already tried to say too much. In passing, let me suggest that we think about the early Church’s common life, so memorably depicted in Acts, and in 1 John’s insistence on the unity between love and obedience, as the practical outcome of a people who have experienced the Divine Mercy.
This brings us at last to Thomas. (See <a href="https://www.catholic.com/magazine/online-edition/its-okay-to-doubt-but-doubt-correctly">here</a> for another take on his doubts.) This Gospel has long been the reading for “Low Sunday,” also known as Quasimodo Sunday, also known as the Octave Day of Easter. Note that it begins with the Lord’s institution of the sacrament of penance: “Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.” So we start with the most normal kind of mercy, the forgiveness of sins. We can also see the Lord’s particular mercy to Thomas in his doubt.
But what is his doubt, exactly? Normally, we assume that his doubt primarily concerns the Resurrection, and the idea that Jesus has appeared to the disciples. And I’m sure that’s true. But maybe that doesn’t tell us everything. After all, Thomas doesn’t tell us exactly what he won’t believe unless he sees and touches the nail marks. So I wonder if he also has doubts about the Lord’s mercy—about this whole business in forgiving sins.
Maybe he accepted, on some level, the Lord’s own ability to forgive sins. That was, after all, a subject of some controversy during his public ministry. But delegating that authority—delegating, if you will, the power of God himself, the power to directly share the divine life—is something else entirely, something astounding.
In this Thomas would be in the good company of quite a few dissenting Christians over the years, including most of our Protestant friends, who balk at the idea of Jesus actually handing on this specific authority to his apostles and their successors. It is, after all, a crazy act of generosity. I know that people sometimes look at it otherwise, acting as if sacramental confession were somehow limiting. But that, I think, misunderstands the alternative, which is that if you can confess your sins only in some generic spiritual way to God himself, you can receive only generic, theoretical absolution. What we have instead is this incredible richness in mercy, where God’s grace is available not just in some general way, but specifically, personally, whenever we need it.
Anyway, suppose that this was part of Thomas’s doubt. And what satisfies it? A direct encounter with the wound from which flowed blood and water, the proof of God’s new temple, the fount of Divine Mercy. It’s no chance that Jesus offers Thomas his wounds as the proof not just of his resurrection but of his goodness. For here is proof not just that Jesus is alive, but that his life has been opened and poured out for the life of the world.
“My Lord and my God,” says Thomas. We can say the same when we see our risen Lord veiled in the Eucharist. But we can also, contemplating his wounds, recognize in the blood and the water, the mercy and the life, he wants to give us, if only we will trust in him. “Do not be faithless, but believing.” Like Thomas, let us approach our Lord and God with faith, saying, with St. Faustina, “Jesus, I trust in you!”

Blood and Water and Mercy

What do you think about the supposed references to Jesus in the Talmud?

Please explain how does the process work when a priest earns the title of Monsignor I’d like to understand how that whole process works.

Who is the “destroyer” / angel of death in Exodus? An actual angel?

Do you think the Jewish faith was reinterpreted after Jesus’s death and resurrection 25:10 - Why is the word Holy Ghost said instead of Holy Spirit?

Why are there so many people who say that the Catholic Church is evil? The red shoes are evil. The room that looks like a serpent, at the Vatican. And other claims…?

I was recently challenged on the papal bulls allowing conquest and enslavement, followed by the bull Sublimis Deus forbidding enslavement, which I take as an abrogation of the prior. The interlocutor asked 1) how can one infallible bull overrule anothe...

Can you explain how the Godhead and the Trinity are not conflicting ideas or doctrines. I get SO MANY people who challenge the Trinity and say that Catholics try to replace the Godhead with the “false doctrine” of the Trinity.

Let’s say a person was properly baptized as a child but didn’t remember. They grow up and live a secular life until finding the faith later. They go through RCIA and, not remembering that they had been already baptized, are baptized and con...

Jimmy Akin, what’s your most recent and thorough reflection on Numbers 12?

Do we have one guardian angel for our whole life?

What are your thoughts on the “manna machine”?

<div>How did the polar bears and penguins reach Noah’s ark?</div><div>That’s a good question. The answer depends on what actually happened in history.
The Catholic Church does not prohibit interpretations of Genesis 6-8 that include a worldwide flood, but neither does the Church require there to be a worldwide flood in all interpretations of these passages. Instead, according to Pope Pius XII, “in simple and metaphorical language adapted to the mentality of a people but little cultured,” the first eleven chapters of Genesis “both state the principal truths which are fundamental for our salvation, and also give a popular description of the origin of the human race and the chosen people” (Humani Generis 38).
Consequently, the flood could be understood as impacting the entire world, or possibly a large region of the world. If it did impact the entire world, animals in distant regions would likely have been miraculously transported to the ark.
On the other hand, if the flood was more regional, a view which has gained increasing traction in recent centuries because of scientific findings, then all the animals of the world would not have been destroyed, and thus polar bears and penguins would not have been affected.
For more on this topic, please see this <a href="https://www.catholic.com/magazine/online-edition/a-catholic-perspective-on-a-new-attraction">article</a> in Catholic Answer Magazine Online.
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Two Views of the Flood

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The Eucharist is the most Christian act.

Would it be accurate to say the Nicene Creed is part of the deposit of faith?

What is palmarian church

Can there be a pope from one of the Eastern Catholic Churches?

How can one be a liberal Catholic and still believe in the teachings of Christ

Is it wrong to love God because you fear Hell?

Do we need to confess venial sins that were taken away by our last communion? Or does that show doubt in the efficacy of communion?

I see people often wondering if a life decision is God’s will. But as long as one is loving God fully, and loving their neighbor, isn’t everything that falls under that God’s will?

IS the Sabbatine privilege for wearing brown scapular endorsed by Catholic Church ?

is it true that God loves some people more than others?, hence why certain people have more graces, are chosen to be priests or even have a better fulfilled purposes in life. thank you.

What is your commitment when it comes to honoring/respecting parents or grandparents when they refuse to communicate to you and tell blatant lies about you regarding serious sins?

Regarding Harrison Butker’s recent <a href="https://www.ncregister.com/news/harrison-butker-speech-at-benedictine">commencement speech at Benedictine College</a>, I’m inclined to agree that a great deal of the controversy surrounding the talk wasn’t over what the Kansas City Chiefs kicker said, but over <a href="https://emilystimpsonchapman.substack.com/p/the-heresies-of-the-manosphere-part-db1">what exactly he meant</a>. (Full disclosure: Butker is my favorite player on my hometown team, and he deserved the MVP award in every Super Bowl the Chiefs appeared in. Yes, including the one they lost.)
For instance, were his remarks about there being “nothing natural about Catholic birth control” a reference to <a href="https://www.catholic.com/magazine/online-edition/catholic-contraception">contraception or NFP</a>? When he said that his wife &#8220;would be the first to say that her life truly started when she began living her vocation as a wife and as a mother,&#8221; was he implying that every woman&#8217;s life doesn&#8217;t truly start until that point? It’s so easy for people to read or hear the same words and come to different interpretations.*
But I think that all Catholics can agree on the true theme of the speech: vocation. From the Latin word for “calling,” vocation is Catholic jargon for the idea that God is inviting you to live in a certain way. As <a href="https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/messages/vocations/documents/20230430-messaggio-60-gm-vocazioni.html">Pope Francis</a> has observed, there’s always something invitational about God’s call:
<blockquote>Vocation is “the interplay between divine choice and human freedom,” a dynamic and exciting relationship between God and the human heart. The gift of vocation is like a divine seed that springs up in the soil of our existence, opens our hearts to God and to others, so that we can share with them the treasure we ourselves have found.</blockquote>
We respond to God’s call in our life not because we’re forced to, but because we believe that God knows and loves us perfectly and has good plans for us. As Butker put it, “I have seen it firsthand how much happier someone can be when they disregard the outside noise and move closer and closer to God’s will in their life.”
We can think about “vocation” in three levels. At the broadest level, it’s easy to discern God’s vocation for our lives: each of us is called to love, to be holy, and to be saints (CCC 1533, 1998, 2392). More particularly, some of us are called to pursue the vocation to holiness by a particular vocation like marriage, or priesthood, or celibacy, or religious life (CCC 908-945). And at the most granular level, we should be discerning God’s will in our life each day.
Pursuing our vocation is rewarding but it’s often not easy. In <a href="https://youtu.be/Qm1jR2b398k?t=198">interviews</a>, Butker has described some of the sacrifices he has experienced as a working father: from putting the phone away in order to be present to his family, to getting up early on Sundays to  have Mass and family time before the afternoon game.
Often, vocation includes our career pursuits. But other times, being faithful to our vocation can require professional sacrifices that the world doesn’t understand. I left behind a career as a lawyer to go to seminary to discern priesthood. And—in an experience to which I know many homemakers can relate—I had well-meaning people who worried that I would “waste” my law degree. That’s a bad view of both education (a college education should be more than job training) and vocation. Pursuing God’s call may be costly, but it’s never wasteful.
Those of us similarly tempted to judge smart women who choose to marry, have children, and stay at home should resist that temptation. In his 1910 book What’s Wrong with the World, G.K. Chesterton observed a strange paradox: that society praised women for caring for other people’s children (for instance, as a schoolteacher) while denigrating women who care for their own children. This led him to ask,
<blockquote>How can it be a large career to tell other people’s children about the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell one’s own children about the universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be everything to someone? No; a woman’s function is laborious, but because it is gigantic, not because it is minute. I will pity Mrs. Jones for the hugeness of her task; I will never pity her for its smallness.</blockquote>
In different words, <a href="https://www.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/en/apost_exhortations/documents/hf_jp-ii_exh_19811122_familiaris-consortio.html">Pope St. John Paul II cautioned</a> us against this same type of thinking:
<blockquote>The mentality which honors women more for their work outside the home than for their work within the family must be overcome. This requires that men should truly esteem and love women with total respect for their personal dignity, and that society should create and develop conditions favoring work in the home.</blockquote>
Some women are called to work outside of the home, and in doing so, they’re serving God and their families. That’s wonderful. Other women desire, and are called to, serve God and their families within the home, and this fidelity is something that should be praised and encouraged.

Harrison Butker and Vocations

<div>Why did Jesus weep before he raised Lazarus from the dead? </div><div>It’s likely that Jesus wept out of love and sympathy for Lazarus and his family. It occurs within the context of Martha and those Jews who came with her weeping (John 11:33). John tells us that in response to their sorrow Jesus was “moved in spirit and troubled” (v. 34). The people present took his weeping to be a sign of friendship: “So the Jews said, ‘See how he loved him&#8217;” (v. 36).
Another possible explanation is that Jesus wept because of human death that sin wrought within his creation. According to W. Leonard in A Catholic Commentary on Holy Scripture, when Jesus says, “Take away the stone,” the Greek verb used suggests that Jesus felt angry. The implication is that Jesus was angry with death, an effect of the original sin of Adam and Eve.
Such a detail on the surface seems frivolous. But it reveals a profound theological mystery: “Jesus, who became man in every respect except sin, experienced a full range of human emotions” (Ignatius Catholic Study Bible, 184).
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What Moved Jesus to Tears?

In this free-for-all-Friday Trent looks at the explanations for why millenials don&#8217;t seem to be aging in comparison to their parents at the same age.

FFAF: Why Do Millennials Look so Young?