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One of the key events of Holy Week is the betrayal of Jesus by Judas Iscariot—something many Christians are convinced caused Judas to go to hell. I used to be one of them.
However, several times recently, Church officials have stated that—even though hell is a real possibility humans can choose—the Church does not teach that any particular person is in hell.
For example, in his 1994 interview book Crossing the Threshold of Hope, John Paul II discussed who will go to hell and wrote:
<blockquote>The Church has never made any pronouncement in this regard. This is a mystery, truly inscrutable, which embraces the holiness of God and the conscience of man. The silence of the Church is, therefore, the only appropriate position for Christian faith. Even when Jesus says of Judas, the traitor, “It would be better for that man if he had never been born” (Matt. 26:24), his words do not allude for certain to eternal damnation (139).</blockquote>
Similarly, in a 2006 audience, Benedict XVI said,
<blockquote>Even though he went to hang himself (cf. Matt. 27:5), it is not up to us to judge his gesture, substituting ourselves for the infinitely merciful and just God (<a href="https://www.vatican.va/content/benedict-xvi/en/audiences/2006/documents/hf_ben-xvi_aud_20061018.html">October 18, 2006</a>).</blockquote>
Despite these statements, <a href="https://www.catholic.com/magazine/online-edition/is-judas-in-hell">it has long been commonly held</a> that Judas is, in fact, damned. So how can we understand the traditional opinion in light of the possibility of Judas’s salvation that John Paul II and Benedict XVI hold out?
One approach is to review the evidence we have for Judas being in hell and seeing how conclusive it is.
A first type of evidence is something that many people may not be aware of: data from exorcism cases.
Christians are familiar with the concept of exorcism being used for possession by demons—that is, fallen angels. However, there are also occasional reports of spirit possession by human souls.
In Judaism, such spirits are referred to as dybbuks. A <a href="https://www.britannica.com/topic/dybbuk-Jewish-folklore">dybbuk</a> is “a disembodied human spirit that, because of former sins, wanders restlessly until it finds a haven in the body of a living person.”
Although dybbuks are more commonly associated with popular Jewish belief, they are also sometimes reported in Christian contexts, and that includes Judas. Exorcists periodically report that during the course of the rite, one of the possessing spirits will identify itself as a former human, typically a famous sinner such as the emperor Nero or Judas Iscariot.
If a possessing spirit identifies itself as Judas and speaks truthfully, then that would support the idea that Judas is a lost soul.
The difficulty is the “and speaks truthfully” part. Demons—and any human allies they have in the possession racket—are working for “the father of lies” (John 8:44), which means that you can’t trust anything they say.
Consequently, the 1614 rite of exorcism—which is still in use—warns that the exorcist must “be on his guard against the arts and subterfuges which the evil spirits are wont to use in deceiving the exorcist” (n. 5). Further, it specifically warns that “neither ought he to give any credence to the devil if the latter maintains that he is the spirit of . . . a deceased party” (n. 14).
The Church does not have a teaching on whether damned souls can ever possess the living, so this is an open question theologically. However, because of how untruthful possessing spirits are, their identity claims are not a reliable form of evidence, and the Church has warned us not to pay heed to such claims.
I thus don’t think we can rely on evidence from these cases to prove Judas is in hell.
Another source of evidence is the common opinion itself that Judas is damned, including by many Church Fathers.
The Holy Spirit guides Christian opinion—including the views of the Fathers—on matters of faith, and so this also could count as evidence for Judas’s damnation.
However, for it to be conclusive, two conditions would have to be met: (1) Judas’s damnation would have to be a matter of the Faith, and (2) the relevant parties would have to agree that this is definitively the case, meaning that there is absolutely no possibility of disputing it.
Neither of these seems fulfilled. For an infallible definition to occur, the members of the Magisterium (bishops teaching in union with the pope) must—at some point in time—come to a position where they are “in agreement on one position as definitively to be held” (<a href="https://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vat-ii_const_19641121_lumen-gentium_en.html">Lumen Gentium 25</a>).
However, John Paul II and Benedict XVI indicate that they have not done this. When John Paul II says (above) that “the Church has never made any pronouncement” on individuals who are in hell, including Judas, then that means it doesn’t have a teaching on this position, much less a definitive one.
Individuals—including many of the Fathers—may hold the opinion that Judas is in hell, but opinions—no matter how common—are not infallible Church teachings. Consequently, we can’t appeal to this kind of evidence as conclusive of Judas’s damnation.
What about the idea that this might be a matter of the Faith? Here we come to the subject of what Scripture teaches. The reason that many in Catholic history have held Judas is damned is because of what Scripture says, so does this give us conclusive evidence?
John Paul II and Benedict XVI have already responded to the two passages in Scripture that one might appeal to.
John Paul II dealt with the passage where Jesus said, “Woe to that man by whom the Son of man is betrayed! It would have been better for that man if he had not been born” (Matt. 26:24; see also Mark 14:21), and the pope said that Jesus’ words “do not allude for certain to eternal damnation.”
This is true. Although the warning is reasonably taken as meaning that Judas will go to hell because of what he has done, it—like biblical warnings in general about the consequences of sin—presupposes one thing: that the person does not repent (Jer. 18:7-10).
So if Judas were to heed the call, “Repent therefore, and turn again, that your sins may be blotted out” (Acts 3:19), then his sins would be blotted out.
Now, here’s the thing: Matthew’s Gospel—the same one where Jesus warns of Judas’s fate—goes on to say this:
<blockquote>When Judas, his betrayer, saw that he was condemned, he repented and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders, saying, “I have sinned in betraying innocent blood” (Matt. 27:3-4).</blockquote>
Matthew says that Judas repented! He recognized that he had sinned and that Jesus was innocent, and he sought to return the money. When the priests refused to take it back, he threw it into the Temple (27:5a) so that he would not profit from his sin. That sounds like a sincere repentance!
But what about what Judas did next? He hanged himself (27:5b), and this is the second text one might appeal to for Judas’s damnation. Even if he repented of having betrayed Jesus, wouldn’t he still go to hell because of his suicide?
The Catechism of the Catholic Church states,
<blockquote>We should not despair of the eternal salvation of persons who have taken their own lives. By ways known to him alone, God can provide the opportunity for salutary repentance. The Church prays for persons who have taken their own lives (2283).</blockquote>
Suicide does not always result in hell because a person may not be fully responsible for his action due to lack of knowledge, or psychological factors, and because “in ways known to him alone,” God may help the person to repent—even in the act of committing suicide itself.
Judas thus may have been so grieved by his offense that he wasn’t fully responsible for his suicide, or he may have repented of taking his own life while he was still hanging from his neck.
As Pope Benedict said, “Even though he went to hang himself, it is not up to us to judge his gesture, substituting ourselves for the infinitely merciful and just God.”
It thus appears that we don’t have conclusive proof that Judas is in hell, and there is still a ray of hope for him.
This Holy Week, let us thank God for his mercy upon all of us. It is a mercy that—in principle—might extend even to Judas.

Hope for Judas?

@shamelesspopery did WHAT?? 😳

Is Salvation Possible for Non-Catholics?

<div>What do you do when someone only focuses on the bad stuff in the Church?</div><div>It depends on how well you know this person. If this person is merely an acquaintance, you can offer information that addresses that person&#8217;s concerns, and then move on if it is not received well. With someone you do know well, you can also offer information, but if it is not received well then you can politely ask that person for a respite from negative discussions. I recommend Joanna Bogle&#8217;s article <a href="https://www.catholic.com/magazine/print-edition/seek-something-to-be-glad-about">Seek Something to Be Glad About</a>.
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Focusing on the Bad

Chris Stefanick advises a caller who has trouble talking about the faith to people in his life, exhorting him to let it flow naturally from his true personality and make Jesus and prayer parts of his everyday interactions.
Transcript:
Host: We go to Brian in Ohio listening on 870 AM. Brian, you are on with Chris Stefanick, what&#8217;s your question?
Caller: Hi Chris, thanks for taking my call.
Chris: How&#8217;s it going, Brian? Good, good. Can you hear me now?
Host: We can, yes. Can you give Chris your question?
Caller: It&#8217;s sort of along the line of some of the more recent callers where, you know, modern Catholics seem to rely on institutions like CCD or Catholic schools, but they, you know, we have the adults even now where they don&#8217;t really know the faith and and therefore they don&#8217;t know Jesus. They more or less know, you know, rituals, and maybe some obligations, things like that. And you know, I learned my faith from my mother and my grandmother, as you talked about, but but you know I have a hard time introducing Jesus even within my own married family and and friends and things like that. Hopefully my question came along clearly.
Chris: Yes it did, thank you. So you said they don&#8217;t know the faith, therefore they don&#8217;t know Jesus; I think very often it&#8217;s the case that they don&#8217;t know Jesus, therefore they don&#8217;t really care about the faith, even if they kind of know it, you know? And I think it&#8217;s&#8211;again this stuff&#8211; to be an effective evangelist, it has just drip from who we are, you know? We have to bring up the name of Jesus in conversation as if he&#8217;s an intimate friend of ours. That doesn&#8217;t mean we have to force things or be awkward. Frankly, a lot of us feel like we&#8217;re forcing things when we&#8217;re NOT bringing up His name, cause He&#8217;s always on our minds, always in our hearts.
I would just encourage the average Catholic: Stop repressing yourself. Just start being who you are! You know, we were always who we were throughout Catholic history. I mean I&#8217;m half Irish, right? The traditional greeting in Ireland was &#8220;God and Mary be upon you.&#8221; Until maybe the 1950s, from the time of Saint Patrick. Uh, I&#8217;m half Slovak. [Slovakian greeting], &#8220;Praised be Jesus Christ,&#8221; is how you said &#8220;Hi.&#8221; You know, this is just dripped from our mouths, from our interactions. It was ingrained in us.
It&#8217;s still ingrained in us but, for that percentage of Catholics I know we are kind of small, kind of minority, who like, &#8220;This is the most important thing in our lives,&#8221; can we please just be ourselves? Just stop hiding, just stop worrying about the response you&#8217;re gonna get to that constantly. Stop thinking you&#8217;re gonna offend people all the time, because again, if you&#8217;re yourself in a way that&#8217;s joyful, that&#8217;s not giving in to frustrations of people who aren&#8217;t as far along as you are, in a way that you&#8217;re showing like, &#8220;I&#8217;m just in love with Jesus, he&#8217;s my friend,&#8221; you know, if someone&#8217;s having a hard day, just comes around the top of your head, you know, &#8220;I&#8217;m gonna pray for you.&#8221; Even if they don&#8217;t believe, you know, if they act offended to that, first of all that&#8217;s their issue, you know, but second of all, you planted a thought about God into their hearts and mind and they&#8217;re not gonna forget that, you know.
So with your family members, be patient but just keep being yourself, man. And just keep saying the name of Jesus in casual conversation. You know, in a way that&#8217;s not forced but just natural.

How to Evangelize: Be Yourself

Today is my oldest child’s twenty-eighth birthday. Every year, the arrival of August 4 (feast of St. John Vianney—pray for priests!) sets off a similar routine:
-I express incredulity at his advancing age, which surely can’t be that much less than my own at this point. Then I yell at neighborhood kids to get off my lawn.
-There are group texts and phone calls with him and his six siblings, who, I never stop feeling blessed to note, all love one another.
-I mention on Facebook or in a conversation that this is the anniversary of the day I “became a father.”
-I get shirty corrections from well-meaning people who inform me that I became a father when he was conceived, because pro-life.
Okay.
Look, I am as hard-core about the full humanity of the unborn as anyone, even among other pro-life Catholics. I tend to favor embryo adoption, for instance, where many Catholic moralists say (and it may be the more probable opinion of the Church) that it&#8217;s impermissible.
But although it’s technically correct that someone becomes a parent at the moment of his or her first child’s conception, in the sense that the unborn child is a full human being with a mother and a father, there is nonetheless a hiddenness to that child’s time in the womb. He hasn’t yet come into the world; there’s a still-to-be-completed aspect to the whole arrangement.
This is surely why we celebrate Christmas as a specially solemn feast, even more so than the Annunciation (when the Lord was conceived) or the Visitation (when John the Baptist leapt in the womb at his presence). The Incarnation has already occurred; Mary is the mother of God. But it’s only at the Nativity that the shrouded, silent intimacy of pregnancy gives way to the visible, audible, unmistakably public presence of God made man, in the world. 
Mary’s divine maternity, and the guardianship of God’s foster-father Joseph, become fully realized when Jesus is born. That’s why we devote whole seasons to preparing for and commemorating that birth.
And of course, it’s after a child is born that mother and father become fully initiated into all the subjective, practical, phenomenological aspects of parenthood—the love and care, the feedings and bodily fluids, the lost sleep and discipline and lifetime of worry that make even an adoptive parent a true father or mother. In a world where there is a sad and ever-growing distinction between being a dad or mom and being a mere baby-daddy or -mama, we shouldn’t let Pro-Life Prenatal Correctness bully us into ignoring that parenthood is as much about doing as being.
So happy birthday to Joe, my oldest boy, the man who made me a father twenty-eight years ago and who makes me proud every day. (And no, I don’t say “eldest”—that’s a topic for another post…)

When Did I Become a Dad?

<div>I was given only the host at a recent Mass, not the precious blood. Was this appropriate?</div><div>Yes. A full Communion is made when a communicant receives either the host or the precious blood. It is not necessary to receive both the host and the precious blood; in fact, for centuries the standard eucharistic protocol was for the laity to be given only the host.
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Receiving Only the Host

<div>May I be anointed every time there is anointing of the sick at Mass or just one time?</div><div>The Catechism of the Catholic Church:
<blockquote>If a sick person who received this anointing recovers his health, he can in the case of another grave illness receive this sacrament again. If during the same illness the person’s condition becomes more serious, the sacrament may be repeated. It is fitting to receive the Anointing of the Sick just prior to a serious operation. The same holds for the elderly whose frailty becomes more pronounced (1515).</blockquote>
The Code of Canon Law:
<blockquote>This sacrament can be repeated if the sick person, having recovered, again becomes gravely ill or if the condition becomes more grave during the same illness (can. 1004 §2).</blockquote>
If you have been anointed and are no longer ill, then you should not be anointed again. If, however, you were anointed and there are ongoing sufferings and issues, then you may be anointed again periodically.
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How Often One May Be Anointed

<div>What Is Lent?</div><div>Lent is a season of preparation for Easter, mirroring Jesus’ forty days in the desert and also anticipating his passion, death, and triumphant resurrection:
<blockquote>“By the solemn forty days of Lent the Church unites herself each year to the mystery of Jesus in the desert.” (CCC 540, see 542)</blockquote>
Additionally, paragraph 1438 of the Catechism describes Lent as a penitential season:
<blockquote>The seasons and days of penance in the course of the liturgical year (Lent, and each Friday in memory of the death of the Lord) are intense moments of the Church’s penitential practice. These times are particularly appropriate for spiritual exercises, penitential liturgies, pilgrimages as signs of penance, voluntary self-denial such as fasting and almsgiving, and fraternal sharing (charitable and missionary works). [CCC 1438, emphasis original] </blockquote>
Thus, Lent is a season of spiritual preparation, one that not only looks forward to the joy of Jesus’ Resurrection (beginning with the Easter Octave), but also provides the faithful—both Catholics and those joining the Church—an annual opportunity to fortify their faith and otherwise grow in holiness for the sake of Christ’s kingdom (John 13:34-35; see Matt. 6:10; 24:14).

For those preparing to become Catholic—whether catechumens (who will receive all three sacraments of initiation: baptism, confirmation and the Eucharist) or candidates (baptized Christians who will receive confirmation and the Eucharist)—Lent is a period of learning and spiritual formation that leads to their coming into full communion with our Lord Jesus Christ and his Catholic Church at the Easter Vigil. For existing Catholics, Lent is an opportunity to reflect on their faith and strengthen their relationship with God and others through prayer, fasting, acts of charity, and spiritual reading.
Each year, then, by calling us to turn away from sin and soul-sapping distractions, Lent helps us focus on what truly matters, drawing us closer to God as we prepare to celebrate the triumphant joy of the Easter season.
<h2>More Resources About Lent</h2>
Top 20 Questions and Answers about Lent <a href="https://www.catholic.com/tract/top-20-questions-and-answers-about-lent">Catholic Answers Q&amp;A Guide for Lent</a>
When is Ash Wednesday? <a href="https://www.catholic.com/tract/ash-wednesday-the-first-day-of-lent" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Catholic Answers Guide for Lent</a>
When is Holy Week? <a href="https://www.catholic.com/tract/holy-week-catholic-answers-guide-to-holy-week" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Catholic Answers Guide for Holy Week</a>
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What Is Lent?

<div>What does the Church teach about divorce? When Catholics ask whether they can divorce, what they’re really asking is how God intended marriage to work, what makes a marriage truly valid, and what happens when a union breaks down, especially when questions of Holy Communion and remarriage arise.</div><div>The better question we might ask is &#8220;May Catholics divorce?&#8221; The Church teaches that a valid marriage between two baptized Christians is indissoluble, meaning that once God has joined a man and woman in such a union, no civil authority may dissolve that bond or declare it null, not even the Catholic Church (CCC 2382). The Church does have the divinely ordained power to determine whether a couple exchanged valid consent in getting married (see Matt. 16:18-19, 18:15-18), and thus possibly to issue a declaration of nullity if determined they did not (see CCC 2384, 1625-1629). The State may claim to end a marriage through granting a civil divorce, but the State has no God-given power to break a marriage covenant or declare one null.
Because God established marriage as a natural and permanent union between a man and woman (Gen. 2:23-24), and then elevated it in Christ to the level of a sacrament (Matt. 19:3-9, Eph. 5:21-33), God hates divorce (Mal. 2:16). Consequently, the Church considers <a href="https://www.catholic.com/qa/im-thinking-about-divorce-what-does-the-catholic-church-have-to-say-about-it" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">divorce</a> a grave offense when chosen as a way to abandon one’s marriage or to enter a new romantic union. According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, a divorced person who seeks to contract a new union—without receiving a declaration of nullity regarding his marriage—places himself in a situation of “public and permanent adultery,” harming not only the couple but also their families and society (2384).
However, the Church also recognizes that sometimes civil divorce is forced upon an innocent spouse—or may be the only means to protect oneself, children, or property from an unjust partner. In such cases, the Church teaches that the innocent spouse does not sin and that civil divorce may function as a form of legal separation when necessary, provided it is not treated as ending the marriage (CCC 2383).
What civil divorce cannot do is determine whether the marriage itself is valid or dissolved. Only Christ, through his Church, has authority over the <a href="https://shop.catholic.com/20-answers-divorce-and-remarriage/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">sacrament of marriage</a>. As Jesus said, “what God has joined together, let no man put asunder” (Matt. 19:6).

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Can Catholics Divorce?

Most Catholics have heard of St. Thomas Aquinas. He is referenced dozens of times throughout the Catechism, mentioned in the sermons of bishops and priests quite often, and generally known as the “main character” of Catholic theology even by those outside of the Church. Few, however, know about the theological tradition that the Angelic Doctor belonged to—and which bears significant importance for us today.
As opposed to dogmatic or positive theology, which explains and proves the truths of the Faith from Scripture and Tradition, scholastic theology (or scholasticism) explores the nature of these truths and their place within the Catholic faith. It enables the theologian to synthesize the faith and resolve apparent contradictions. To put it succinctly, the maxim of scholastic theology is “faith seeking understanding.”
The rise of scholasticism was concurrent with—and in many ways caused by—the rise of universities in Christendom. Scholastic theologians, also referred to as schoolmen, often belonged to theological schools that held to and preserved their own theological tradition. Thus, it is not uncommon to hear about disputes between Thomists (followers of St.
Thomas Aquinas) and the Scotists (followers of Bl. John Duns Scotus) on how the sacraments cause grace in the recipient, and, though belonging more to speculation, whether or not God would have become man if Adam had not sinned.
At the center of medieval scholastic theology is Peter Lombard (d. 1160)’s Sententiae or Sentences, a four-book work on theological judgments about the Christian religion. The work systematically covers questions about the one God, his triune nature, creation, man, sin, the Incarnation, redemption, and the last things. It is divided into four books and sectioned by “distinctions.” Shortly after its publication and approval from theologians, a commentary on the Sentences became a requirement for a Master’s degree in theology. Thus, the procedure later theologians followed when inquiring into what different theologians taught on a certain question was to refer to their commentary on the Sentences, each of which was uniformly organized after Lombard’s original work. For example, if I want to know what St. Bonaventure taught about the different aspects of purgatory, I simply go to the locus classicus of purgatory: book four, distinction 21. Every commentary on the Sentences is uniformly structured like this, allowing one to easily compare the teachings of the scholastics by simply referencing the proper book and distinction.
<h2>Should We Reject Scholasticism?</h2>
Many today want to forget and move past this historical period of theology, labeling it irrelevant and outdated. Others reject scholasticism due to its “heavy” reliance on extra-biblical, Aristotelian terms, such as “substance,” “virtual,” and “relation.” But these charges fail to demonstrate any true reason to reject such a powerful and beautiful theological system.
First, several recent popes have commended scholasticism as being integral to Catholic theology. Pope Benedict XVI said:
<blockquote>Still today, in reading the Scholastic summae one is struck by the order, clarity, and logical continuity of the arguments and by the depth of certain insights. With technical  language, a precise meaning is attributed to every word and, between believing and understanding, a reciprocal movement of clarification is established.
Dear brothers and sisters, in echoing the invitation of the First Letter of Peter, Scholastic theology stimulates us to be ever ready to account for the hope that is in us (cf. 3:15), hearing the questions as our own and thus also being capable of giving an answer. It reminds us that a natural friendship exists between faith and reason, founded in the order of Creation itself” (General Audience, October 28, 2009).</blockquote>
Pius XI, in his reformation of Catholic universities, commended the scholastic method as an authentic medium of doing theology in the Church:
<blockquote>Sacred theology is to be handed on with both the positive and the scholastic method; therefore, having explained the truths of faith and proved them from Holy Scripture and Tradition, the nature of those truths and their intimate reason are to be studied and illustrated according to the principles and teaching of St. Thomas Aquinas. (<a href="https://www.vatican.va/content/pius-xi/la/apost_constitutions/documents/hf_p-xi_apc_19310524_deus-scientiarum-dominus.html#%3A~%3Atext%3DHaec%20autem%20disciplina%20methodo%20cum%20positiva%20tum%20scholastica%20tradenda%20est%3B%20ideo%20veritatibus%20fidei%20expositis%20et%20ex%20sacra%20Scriptura%20et%20Traditione%20demonstratis%2C%20earum%20veritatum%20natura%20et%20intima%20ratio%20ad%20principia%20et%20doctrinam%20S.%20Thomae%20Aquinatis%20investigentur%20et%20illustrentur">Deus scientarum Dominus</a> 29).</blockquote>
In fact, Pope St. Pius X identified the dislike of scholasticism as one of the errors of the modernists.
<blockquote>For scholastic philosophy and theology they have only ridicule and contempt. Whether it is ignorance or fear, or both, that inspires this conduct in them, certain it is that the passion for novelty is always united in them with hatred of scholasticism, and there is no surer sign that a man is on the way to modernism than when he begins to show his dislike for this system (Pascendi Dominici Gregis 42).</blockquote>
As for the application of extra-biblical terms, we should keep in mind that the early Church, before scholasticism, also did this in its defense of trinitarian orthodoxy, with terms like “consubstantial” and “person.”
<h2>Why Read the Scholastics?</h2>
Scholasticism is not even primarily about niche theological questions, like whether the fire of purgatory is material or not. In exploring the nature of the mysteries in our faith, the mind, already believing in these, begins to understand their interconnectedness, opening the path for deeper meditation and contemplation before the Lord.
Scholastic theology also helps us synthesize Catholic doctrines. Some that seem to contradict at first, such as the belief that baptism is necessary for salvation and that a baptism of desire can substitute the absence of the sacrament, are easily resolved when we understand that baptism is necessary per accidens but sanctifying grace is necessary per se; the former may be substituted but is the ordinary means to an end, and the latter, being absolutely necessary, cannot be substituted, which is supplied by repentance, faith, and the desire for baptism. When asked how baptism can save us while upholding that we are saved by Christ alone, we may reply that baptism is the instrumental cause of our justification, whereas Christ’s passion is the meritorious cause: Christ achieved our salvation on the cross but applies it through the sacraments.
<h2>Where to Start?</h2>
Aquinas’s works, most of which have an English translation, are available for free at <a href="http://aquinas.cc/">aquinas.cc</a>. There is his famous Summa Theologiae, in which he treats the Christian faith systematically, which he never finished.
In his exposition on the Ave Maria, he comments on St. Gabriel’s annunciation to the Virgin Mary, reflecting the contemplative mind of the medieval Church regarding the Mother of God. His commentaries on the Pauline epistles are especially illuminating for understanding Catholic teaching on grace, which Aquinas claims is the subject of Paul’s “entire teaching.” Aquinas synthesizes all of Paul’s letters by showing how the Apostle presents the grace of Christ as diffused throughout the body of Christ: from our head to the pastors and the faithful of the Church—both considered in itself and in its operation through the sacraments.
Some prominent contemporaries of Aquinas, like his teacher, St. Albert the Great, have also written wonderful works, such as <a href="https://catholiclibrary.org/library/view?docId=Medieval-EN/XCT.011.html%3Bchunk.id%3D00000007">On Cleaving to God</a>. One may also read <a href="https://www.franciscan-archive.org/scotus/">Scotus</a> or St. Anselm’s <a href="https://catholiclibrary.org/library/view?docId=Medieval-EN/XCT.005.html%3Bsurl%3DaHR0cHMlM0ElMkYlMkZjYXRob2xpY2xpYnJhcnkub3JnJTJGbGlicmFyeSUyRmJyb3dzZSUyRmNlbnR1cnklMkYxMDAw%3Bchunk.id%3D00000007">Why God Became Man</a>.
Later Thomists, like Fr. Réginald Garrigou-Lagrange, O.P., have amazingly edifying works like <a href="https://catholiclibrary.org/library/view?docId=Contemporary-EN/XCT.145.html%3Bsurl%3DaHR0cHMlM0ElMkYlMkZjYXRob2xpY2xpYnJhcnkub3JnJTJGbGlicmFyeSUyRmJyb3dzZSUyRmNlbnR1cnklMkYxODAw%3Bchunk.id%3D00000005">On</a> <a href="https://catholiclibrary.org/library/view?docId=Contemporary-EN/XCT.145.html%3Bsurl%3DaHR0cHMlM0ElMkYlMkZjYXRob2xpY2xpYnJhcnkub3JnJTJGbGlicmFyeSUyRmJyb3dzZSUyRmNlbnR1cnklMkYxODAw%3Bchunk.id%3D00000005">Providence and Trust in God</a>, along with <a href="https://catholiclibrary.org/library/view?docId=Contemporary-EN/XCT.144.html%3Bsurl%3DaHR0cHMlM0ElMkYlMkZjYXRob2xpY2xpYnJhcnkub3JnJTJGbGlicmFyeSUyRmJyb3dzZSUyRmNlbnR1cnklMkYxODAw%3Bchunk.id%3D00000005">his commentary</a> on Aquinas’s treatment on grace.
In fact, some of the best defenses of the Catholic Faith were written by scholastics. One interested in defending the Faith against Islam or Eastern Orthodoxy may read St. Thomas’s De Rationibus Fidei (“Reasons for the Faith”), in which he explains and defends uniquely Catholic doctrines against these groups. Bellarmine has several volumes in his work Controversies where he defends the Catholic faith against the Protestant Reformers and their successors. Cardinal Franzelin, S.J.’s On Divine Tradition offers a fantastic explanation of the Catholic view of Sacred Tradition, occasionally responding to Protestant objections. The Sacrae Theologiae Summa is a great theological manual that covers all aspects of Catholic theology written by theologians who attended and influenced the Second Vatican Council. All of these have English translations and many be published online for free under public domain. Dozens of important theologians could be listed for each century, but when one becomes acquainted with just a few, he quickly becomes introduced to their contemporaries and grows in understanding of the scholastic tradition all the more.
In sum, scholasticism is not dead. It remains alive within the ecclesial tradition, practiced by those in the theological schools and commended by the Magisterium as most helpful.

The Way a Catholic Should Think

Put aside what exactly we mean by sight—physical, intellectual, etc. Whatever sight is, it is a form of direct knowledge. Intellectual sight is the direct apprehension of some reality. Physical, sensory sight is the direct sense apprehension of some reality. So to ask the question “Does God see us?” is really to ask, “Does God know us?”
We almost certainly want to say yes. But if we are Christians and thinking rationally, it’s hard to avoid the conclusion that we do not often act as if this were true.
After all, we do not seem to be aware that God sees us and knows us when we are in the midst of sin. Or perhaps we are aware, but we think that God simply looks away for a moment, for which we feel guilty. I mean, such presence and perception seem overwhelming, and so the mind finds ways of tuning it out. As T.S. Eliot writes, “Humankind cannot bear very much reality.”
There are, furthermore, deep currents of Christian—especially Protestant—thinking that deepen this divide in vision. Often, when teaching the doctrine of justification, I’ve had occasion to discuss the Lutheran concept of imputed righteousness—the idea that Christ’s merit gets credited to our spiritual accounts in a kind of cosmic book-fixing, meaning that we get to go to heaven without actually having our sin-sick souls healed. Where this becomes especially strange is when the legal metaphor turns into a visual metaphor. I grew up hearing that when God the Father looks at us, he doesn’t see us at all; he sees Christ. There’s some truth there that a Catholic can and should accept. But instead of seeing how we grow into the full stature and likeness of Christ, what these preachers more often mean is that God really does not see us because he cannot see sin. Our existence is meaningless. We are but dust, onto which God slaps a picture of Jesus.
I have to confess that I never found that image comforting, because it makes God comfortable with the idea of falsehood; it makes God appear too weak to elevate and heal the creatures that he made in his image. It makes God blind.
But in the tradition, we are the ones who are blind. We are so blinded by the double-darkness of sin and ignorance that we do not even fully know ourselves. God, says St. Augustine in his Confessions, knows us more intimately than we know ourselves. We see in a mirror dimly. He sees face to face. Augustine adds, “And though in your sight I may despise myself and reckon myself dust and ashes, I know something about you which I do not know about myself.” By this I think the saint means, I know that you know more about me than I do, so there must in the end be more to my life than mere dust and ashes.
God sees us. He sees the dust that we were, the dust that we are, and the dust that we will become. And yet there is this wonderful fact, recounted in the Ash Wednesday collect—one of the best treasures in this missal unknown anywhere else in the Roman Rite: “Almighty and everlasting God, who hatest nothing that thou has made . . .”
We might rush through it, but what an extraordinary statement. Undeniably true, theologically speaking, and not just because it’s in part a quotation from the Book of Wisdom: God can hate sin, because sin isn’t something that is made, but rather the corruption of what was made. God’s hatred of sin, then, follows from the fact that he refuses to hate what he has made. Dust, in other words. Us.
Ash Wednesday is normally seen as a reminder of our mortality. And it is. But that statement that we make isn’t just about death; it is also about creation. It’s not just “unto dust shalt thou return,” but also “remember that thou art dust.” In other words, you aren’t an accident, you aren’t a necessity, you exist by the love who crafted you out of the dust and gave you his own breath.
And he sees you. He knows you. Even if you do not.
This theme of sight and blindness is a common one in Lent. It starts with the contrast—I find it interesting to think of it almost like a ritual insistence on our hypocrisy—between being seen by God and being seen by men. It reaches its experiential climax in Passiontide and the sacred Triduum, when the images in the church are veiled, then again unveiled, as on Good Friday, with a command to look: behold the wood of the cross, on which was hung the world’s salvation. You may not want to, but look. See what you have done. See what you have become.
Lent is certainly about self-examination and penance. But the point I want to make is that the perfection of these things is not simply in making a perfect act of penance and self-examination; we do not know ourselves well enough. To know ourselves well enough, we have to know God. We have to see him. Just as I often tell people in the confessional, it is not ultimately good enough to just stop sinning—we have to replace the bad habit with a good one. We have to see beyond what we are doing, what we ought not be doing, to the good that God wants for us.
So we have to clear up all the debris that clouds our sight. Sin, yes, but also the various good things that cloud our vision. I know it’s popular these days to de-emphasize giving up food and drink and such for Lent, but I don’t really know of anything that gets quite so viscerally at our human ability to be distracted by good things.
If we can turn from sin, and turn also from the good things that hold us back, God will “create and make in us new and contrite heats,” raising us from the dust once again—preparing us, this time in the glory of the Resurrection, to behold his face with clear eyes.

Does God See You?

<div>Does the Church accept an annulment granted by an Orthodox archbishop?</div><div>No, the Catholic Church does not accept annulments granted by non-Catholic churches or faith communities.
Generally speaking, the Eastern Orthodox do not issue annulments; they issue an &#8220;ecclesiastical divorce.&#8221; While similar to a Catholic annulment in that there are an investigation and a judgment by the appropriate church authority, it differs in its focus and grounds. There are limited grounds on which the Eastern Orthodox would issue an actual annulment, but such a decree would have no juridic validity in the Catholic Church. A separate Catholic investigation would need to take place.
</div>

Are Eastern Orthodox Annulments Valid?

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Human life is REAL from conception!

<div>What is or are some scholarly resources for why we accept the Apocrypha as inspired? </div><div>Here is <a href="https://www.catholic.com/magazine/print-edition/how-to-defend-the-deuterocanonicals">a good summary</a> of arguments defending the inspiration and canonical status of the so-called Apocrypha, called by Catholics the &#8220;deuterocanonical books.&#8221;
Ultimately, the inspired status of the books of Scripture is verified by the teaching Church, and this is why Catholics and Orthodox maintain that these books are inspired.
</div>

Why Accept the Apocrypha as Inspired?

<div>What is the appropriate reparation to the community for sexual misconduct?</div><div>The Christian community doesn’t need to know about your sexual misconduct, nor does the larger community. To make amends, if possible, repent to those with whom you have engaged in sexual misconduct, receive sacramental absolution in confession, and then live a chaste life and encourage others to do so by your words and deeds.
If you’ve committed crimes via your sexual misbehavior, turn yourself in to the police as well.
</div>

Making Amends for Sexual Misconduct

A caller asks how to respond to a Jehovah Witness who claims we should not celebrate Christmas because the three wise men were astrologers and the horrible acts Herod committed. Trent Horn, proprietor of The Counsel of Trent Podcast gives the Catholic answer.
Article referenced by Trent written by Jimmy Akin: https://www.catholic.com/magazine/print-edition/mysteries-of-the-magi

Did the Three Wise Men Practice Astrology?

Calvinists teach that man is powerless to resist God’s grace; hence, there is no truly free will.
The Catholic and biblical position, though, holds that we must “work out our salvation with fear and trembling”—meaning we must do something—“for it is God who works in you both to will and to do according to his good pleasure” (Phil. 2:12-13)—meaning God’s grace must precede and accompany every meritorious action that brings about our salvation.
The Catholic teaching emphasizes both God’s grace and man’s cooperation. But there is no room in Calvinist teaching for St. Paul’s inspired notion of man as “co-laborer” with God (1 Cor. 3:9). In Calvin’s words,
<blockquote>if [by free will] is meant that after we are once subdued by the power of the Lord to the obedience of righteousness, we proceed voluntarily, and are inclined to follow the movement of grace, I have nothing to object. . . . If, again, it is meant that man is able of himself to be a fellow-laborer with the grace of God, I hold it to be a most pestilent delusion (Institutes, Bk. 2, Ch. 3, Para. 11).</blockquote>
Catholics agree that man cannot “of himself” merit anything from God—meaning, apart from God’s empowering grace. But Calvin’s meaning is very different. For him, “subdued by the power of the Lord” means that man cannot resist the movement of God’s grace.
If God wills for you to go to heaven, he will give you grace to that end, and you will be irresistibly moved to act in accord with it. If God wills for you to go to hell, then you will not be given grace, and you will be moved to sin by God’s eternal decree.
Before we proceed, two notes. First, many Calvinists will claim, as the Westminster Confession does, that they believe in “free will.” But “free will” for the Calvinist means acting in accord with irresistible grace that he cannot do anything but accept. The term voluntary, which Calvin used in the passage above, becomes meaningless. According to Calvin, when God extends his “special grace” of salvation and mercy, he “does not suffer a refusal” (para. 6). Yet man is “free”? This would be like Vito Corleone, in The Godfather, making “an offer you can’t refuse” and then claiming that the offer was “freely” accepted.
Second, honest Calvinists acknowledge the contradiction here. Clifton Kirkpatrick, who at the time held the highest elected staff position in the Presbyterian Church (USA), <a href="https://openlibrary.org/books/OL673338M/What_unites_Presbyterians">wrote</a>,
<blockquote>If a sovereign God decides to elect persons to eternal life, that is a decision for all time and eternity. . . . Presbyterians have endorsed this conviction, but with Calvin, we have always had trouble with it for two reasons.
First, if God predestines every person, and not all are called, elected, or predestined for salvation, then God has predestined (the Westminster Confession says “fore-ordained”) some persons to hell or eternal damnation. Second, if God has determined the ultimate fate of all persons, then the individual has no power to make any important decisions.
Presbyterians have learned to believe, also, in free will, realizing that these two doctrines are logically impossible to hold at the same time, but that each is true, as taught in the Westminster Confession. . . . Those persons who can with a clear conscience accept what they are taught, regardless of apparent inconsistencies, are in some ways better off than those who think (17).</blockquote>
Notice the almost cult-like acceptance of this logical contradiction. The Catholic and biblical faith never asks anyone to check his intellect at the door. Although we recognize that certain truths of our faith are supra-rational, there is nothing in our faith that is irrational. 
I have to agree with Kirkpatrick that a thinking man will have trouble with this Calvinist notion of double predestination. In fact, I would say that a thinking man is not going to remain Calvinist unless he can learn to believe what he knows to be irrational. And that is not faith; that is closer to superstition.
The grace of God is resistible, according to Paul:
<blockquote>You are severed from Christ, you who would be justified by the law; you have fallen away from grace. For through the Spirit, by faith, we wait for the hope of righteousness. For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision is of any avail, but faith working through love. You were running well; who hindered you from obeying the truth? (Gal. 5:4-7).</blockquote>
Paul warns these Galatian Christians not to be seduced by “Judaizers” who were telling them belief in Christ is great, but they must also return to the Old Covenant temple, sacrifices, law, circumcision, etc. in order to be saved. He warns that if they do this, they forfeit Christ; they “fall from grace.” To “fall from grace” means they resist God’s grace.
The inspired author of Hebrews also teaches that we can “fall from grace”:
<blockquote>Strive for peace with all men, and for that holiness without which no man will see God. Take heed lest anyone be wanting in the grace of God [Gr.—usteron apo tes karitos tou theou—“falling from the grace of God”]; lest any root of bitterness springing up cause trouble and by it the many be defiled; let there not be any immoral or profane person, such as Esau, who for one meal sold his birthright (Heb. 12:14-16, Confraternity Bible).</blockquote>
The Greek verb ustereo, translated above as “wanting,” means “to fall short of, lack, or want.” Because the preposition apo, or “from,” is used immediately after the verb, a literal translation would be “falling short of from the grace of God.” I translate it as “falling from the grace of God.”
Similarly to Galatians, Hebrews warns Christians not to “sell their birthright” as sons of God and forfeit the glory of heaven that is their inheritance as Christians. Indeed, we truly are sons of God, and if sons, “then heirs, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him” (Rom. 8:17). The context of Hebrews emphasizes the truth that Christians can, in fact, “fall from grace” and lose their heavenly inheritance.
St. Stephen chimes in specifically when it comes to resisting the grace of God. He almost seems to have Calvin in mind 1,500 years before Calvin when he speaks to his “brethren and fathers” (Acts 7:2) among the sons and daughters of Abraham:
<blockquote>You stiff-necked people, uncircumcised in heart and ears, you always resist the Holy Spirit. As your fathers did, so do you (v. 51).</blockquote>
The Holy Spirit calls us by grace; thus, to “resist the Holy Spirit” is to resist God’s grace.
And finally, the words of our Lord himself are most clear:
<blockquote>O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, killing the prophets and stoning those who are sent to you! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not! Behold, you house is forsaken and desolate! (Matt. 23:37-38).</blockquote>
Jesus here speaks as God and informs us that he is ever calling to his people by his grace to come to him, as a hen calls to her chicks. But he is equally clear that he respects the freedom he has gifted us. It is their choice whether they will resist his call—resist his grace—or cooperate with it unto salvation (Gal. 6:7-9, Rom, 5:1-2, 2 Cor. 6:1-2).

John Calvin, the False Optimist

<div>Are the principles of the Socialist Party the same as those of the Catholic Church?</div><div>No, the Catholic Church explicitly rejects socialism.
<blockquote>If Socialism, like all errors, contains some truth (which, moreover, the supreme pontiffs have never denied), it is based nevertheless on a theory of human society peculiar to itself and irreconcilable with true Christianity. Religious socialism, Christian socialism, are contradictory terms; no one can be at the same time a good Catholic and a true socialist (Pius XI&#8217;s <a href="http://w2.vatican.va/content/pius-xi/en/encyclicals/documents/hf_p-xi_enc_19310515_quadragesimo-anno.html">Q</a><a href="http://w2.vatican.va/content/pius-xi/en/encyclicals/documents/hf_p-xi_enc_19310515_quadragesimo-anno.html">uadragesimo Anno</a>, 120).</blockquote>
<blockquote>The Church has rejected the totalitarian and atheistic ideologies associated in modem times with &#8220;communism&#8221; or &#8220;socialism&#8221;  (Catechism, 2425).</blockquote>
Pope Leo XIII&#8217;s <a href="http://w2.vatican.va/content/leo-xiii/en/encyclicals/documents/hf_l-xiii_enc_15051891_rerum-novarum.html">Rerum Novarum</a> explicitly rejects several main tenants of socialism.
Socialism severely curtails rights to private property. The Church, on the other hand, upholds the individual&#8217;s right to private property (Catechism, 2401).
</div>

Does Catholicism Support Socialism?

The Book of Genesis teaches that the world of nature is to be honored and cultivated according to the divine wisdom who created it, and this respect should also transfer to the human body—created male and female with the God-given blessing of fertility.
Our modern world, however, treats fertility not as a blessing to be received and honored, but a problem to be solved. In order to get a hold on human fertility, something must be done to the human body—and thus, to the human person, you adopt the neo-gnostic view that says, “Sex organs do not make babies—persons do.” Embedded in this mentality is the idea that the human body—particularly human reproductive organs—are not constitutive of the person. Rather, they are extrinsic to authentic human nature and humanized only when they come under rational control. How contrary this is to the optimistic, joyful outlook of Genesis, which proclaims in a kind of celebration, “Male and female he created them . . . be fertile and multiply.”
At the heart of this conflict is the question of whether the ability to procreate is a true good of the person or just a physical function that may be turned on and off as needed. The latter view sees a baby conceived against the will of the couple as a kind of accident or, even worse, an inhuman intruder—unnatural to the couple’s love-making, somehow unrelated to the very act that by nature is ordered toward life! So the question ultimately involves a true appreciation for natural law. If human reproductive powers are God-designed, God-willed, what it means to be created male and female, when a couple deliberately impede fertility by recourse to contraception, they violate not a mere physical, mechanical process, but rather the integrity of the person. If human fertility is not a true human good or human end, the modern contraceptive/abortive mentality makes sense and logically follows.
But Genesis 1:26 destroys such neo-Gnosticism, affirming that the body and fertility are inherently linked to the creation of man as male and female and are constitutive of human gender. As with the rest of God’s creation, they are not accidents, but are imbued with meaning. They are not mere objects to be exploited, but gifts to be respected. Man’s dominion over them should be not a tyranny, but a cooperation with God’s sovereignty.
St. Paul teaches that even those who do not know the true God nonetheless honor him when they honor the natural law evident in his creation (see Rom. 1:18-20, 2:13-15). In this respect, those without God were tied to divine truths. Christ told the pagan Pilate, “Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice” (John 18:37). Commitment to truth is preparation for the gospel. The Vatican II document Dei Verbum tells us that the first source of God’s revelation isn’t Sacred Scripture or even the initial calling of the Jews. Rather, it is the created order itself, as “God gives an enduring witness to himself in created realities” (II, 3).
Natural human ends are in no sense mere biology propelling the human being to a fate he cannot control. There is no gulf between the body, the intellect, and divine wisdom. Human “animal” nature is filled with divine—one might even say sacred and transcendent—meaning because “natural inclinations” have no other end than God himself. For us, corporeal nature has a spiritual meaning. We can’t know the truth about ourselves, or God, without it.
Immediately after teaching in Romans 1 that God can be known in the things he has made, Paul has harsh words for those who abandon knowledge of the true God in favor of idolatry. Because human beings can know the moral law of God as it is written in nature—true worship is connected to upright moral behavior. Conversely, false worship, the failure to honor the true God by idolatrous practices, leads to immoral behavior.
Interestingly, Paul calls out such people specifically for their immoral sexual behavior. False worship leads to false sexual practices—the “mutual degradation of their bodies”:
<blockquote>They exchanged the truth of God for a lie and revered and worshiped the creature rather than the creator. . . . Their females exchanged natural relations for unnatural, and the males likewise gave up natural relations with females and burned with lust for one another. . . . Since they did not see fit to acknowledge God, God handed them over to their undiscerning mind to do what is improper (Rom. 1:24–28).</blockquote>
According to Paul, sexual rebellion against nature is the consequence of spiritual rebellion against God (see the Ignatius Catholic Study Bible, 259).
Many authors interpret the Pauline passage on women exchanging “natural intercourse for unnatural” as a reference to lesbianism. This interpretation certainly makes sense, as it is immediately followed by Paul’s condemnation of males “burning with lust for one another.” However, Paul’s description of what women do when they fail to honor God isn’t exactly the same perversion of nature as what Paul says about men. Paul doesn’t say that females burn with lust for one another. Instead, he simply states that the females “exchanged natural intercourse for unnatural.” Indeed, the literal Greek renders the passage “for the females of them changed the natural use to the use against nature.”
It is quite possible that here Paul is talking about women who violated their God-given nature by rendering sterile the use of sexual intercourse—contradicting nature by deliberately acting against the good of fertility. Some might think that contraception wasn’t practiced in the ancient world, due to a lack of reliable scientific methods, but this is hardly the case. Besides coitus interruptus, the Romans, Greeks, and Egyptians of New Testament times were known to practice several crude contraceptive methods. In his letter to the Galatians, Paul teaches that several sins proceed from the flesh, such as “immorality, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, hatreds,” etc. (5:19-20). The Greek word often translated “sorcery,” <a href="https://biblehub.com/greek/5331.htm">pharmakeia</a>, can refer to the use of drugs, and indeed drugs or potions were employed then in the practice of magic, witchcraft, and sorcery. But as John F. Kippley, an expert on the subject of contraceptive use, <a href="https://www.thecatholicthing.org/2015/02/07/pharmakeia-contraception-interior-life/">points out</a>, pharmakeia may also refer to artificial birth control:
<blockquote>Pharmakeia in general was the mixing of various potions for secret purposes, and it is known that potions were mixed in the first century A.D. to prevent or stop a pregnancy. The typical translation as “sorcery” may not reveal all of the specific practices condemned by the New Testament. In all three of the passages in which it appears, it is in a context condemning sexual immorality; two of the three passages also condemn murder (Gal. 5:19–26; Rev. 9:21, 21:8). Thus it is very possible that there are three New Testament passages condemning the use of the products of pharmakeia for birth control purposes.</blockquote>
Even if Paul used pharmakeia to refer not to contraceptive methods of the ancient world, but to actual occult arts, in a real sense, the condemnation still applies when we consider the underlying philosophy of contraceptive use. The goal of sorcery is to control the world, control the future, control the forces of nature—to cause those forces to comply with one’s personal wishes. Sorcery seeks to alter and manipulate the dispositions of reality. This is exactly the aim of the practice of contraception through modern pharmaceutical methods—a kind of modern “sorcery,” a contemporary “casting of spells,” by which the reality of the human body is altered, manipulated for personal ends.
We may further note that this interpretation gains strength in the fact that lesbianism does not involve sexual intercourse. It is the “use” of sexual intercourse that is rendered unnatural. In any case, homosexual sexual acts and contracepted sexual acts share one common element: they are inherently barren, contrary to the natural good and God’s first blessing in Genesis.

Contraception as Sorcery

We stand at a turning point, both in the liturgical year and in the gospel narrative. We have now turned our face decidedly toward Easter, which means moving through Lent in all its fullness. In the Gospels, the Transfiguration traditionally marks the final big high point before Jesus “sets his face to Jerusalem” (Luke 9:51)—that is, toward the events of Holy Week.
Jesus has been slowly revealing himself to the people. Just before this, Peter did in fact catch a glimpse of Jesus’ identity and declared him the Son of God, the Christ. Peter, then, along with James and John, is allowed to see this moment of transcendence on the mountain—a moment that, in its brightness, will make the events to come all the more dark. In fact, in Matthew’s version, Jesus insists that the three disciples make no mention of what they have seen until “after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.” In a sense, maybe, this was as much descriptive as prescriptive. In the anxiety and confusion following Jesus’ trial and execution, would the memory of this event really signify? One can imagine that it may have seemed a mere dream, because if it were true, if this Jesus really was the glorious figure that they saw on the mountain, how could he be dead at the hands of angry men? How could the Son of the heavenly Father find his end amid shame and agony? It was only afterward, in light of the Lord’s resurrection, that Peter was able to look back, as he does in his second epistle (2 Pet. 1:16-18), and see the event in its own light, as a miraculous witness to Jesus’ identity that would inspire and confirm the apostolic faith.
But how, exactly, did the Transfiguration confirm Peter’s faith? “We did not follow cleverly devised myths,” Peter writes, “when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.” It’s strange that he says this because, for many readers today, the Transfiguration seems rather more like a cleverly devised myth than a historical event.
What’s odd about the Transfiguration, in comparison with other miracles from the Gospel, is that we are never exactly sure what it is. Today we don’t often see people walking on water, or multiplying loaves and fish, or healing the blind . . . but at least we have an idea of what it would mean to do such things. There’s no conceptual difficulty imagining them, whether or not we believe they happened. But the Transfiguration, unlike those other events, is not merely the supernatural reversal of the typical order of things, or the unexplained happening of what is under normal circumstances impossible. It is a “special effects” moment in the purest form in that it defies clear description. Even the name is vague: We can use the word “transfigure” to say something moved beyond its normal form or appearance, but it is hard, maybe even impossible, to give an experiential weight to what this might mean.
Maybe that’s why the experience on the mountain was so important as a turning point for Peter and the others. By it they knew that Jesus was not just the fulfillment of all their hopes, but someone who surpassed their hopes and changed them, who offered them not what they had always wanted, but what they had never imagined.
There were many miraculous signs in Jesus’ ministry, and these all showed, to one degree or another, Jesus’ power. Jesus calmed the storm, showing his power over nature; he cast out demons, showing his power over the spirits; he healed the sick, showing his power to give life. The Transfiguration was not “cleverly devised” because, unlike the other miracles, it wasn’t entirely clear what it was supposed to show. It showed glory and light, to be sure . . . but it was hard to know at the time what it meant. Some years later, St. Paul’s letter to the Philippians suggests that we see in Christ’s “glorified body” a promise for our own “lowly body.”
The three disciples were “eyewitnesses to his majesty,” Peter says. But what they saw and heard was another level of witness, for they saw Moses and Elijah—signs of the Law and the Prophets—giving witness to Jesus, and they heard the voice of the Father in heaven giving testimony to his Son. “This is my Son, my Chosen. . . . Listen to him.”
The Father’s instruction is, at least partly, a response to Peter’s initial reaction. “Let us make three booths.” It is a natural thing to say: Here we have this miraculous event beyond description, and so it is only human to seek a way to remember it, to make it permanently accessible.
But the response, which drives Peter and the others to the ground, is really remarkable: No, Peter, there is no need for three tabernacles, because the tabernacle of God is already with men. Here, Peter, is my beloved Son. Listen to him. When God made covenant with Abram, he solemnized his commitment with a burning torch and blood. But here there is no need for signs. In other words, he is not simply another mediator along the same lines as the law and the prophets, he is not simply another witness to a reality beyond himself. He is himself the thing that needs to be witnessed. Pay attention to him. He is already the tabernacle of God. There is no need to build another. He is already a permanent remembrance, because he will always be with you. Look to him. Listen to him. Obey him.
And what does Jesus say? The synoptics offer different accounts here, which is fascinating. For Mark, the first thing the Lord says is an instruction not to tell anyone about what they have seen. For Luke, as we heard today, nothing is said, which suggests an emphasis on what I was saying a moment ago: The important thing to note about this man isn’t just what he says, but who he is.
But in Matthew’s version, Jesus tells the disciples, “Rise, and have no fear.” That’s a message for us as much as it is to Peter, James, and John. It’s one of the simplest instructions, but one of the hardest to do: Be not afraid. This is the first step in following Jesus.
In a way, each of the miracles of Jesus is meant to show why we should not be afraid. We shouldn’t fear the storm, because Jesus is lord of all creation. We needn’t fear sickness, because Jesus is the great physician. We needn’t fear death, because God has shown his power over it. We needn’t fear the cross, because Christ has made it the sign of his triumph. And here, at the Transfiguration, we needn’t fear the blindingly bright radiance of the Son’s glory. Why? Because the more we behold that glory, the more it transfigures us into its likeness. The more it blinds our earthly sight, the more it opens our spiritual sight to its wonder.
All of this is in today’s collect in Divine Worship <a href="#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1">[1]</a>:
<blockquote>O God, who before the Passion of thy Only Begotten Son didst reveal his glory upon the holy mount: grant unto us that we, beholding by faith the light of his countenance, may be strengthened to bear our cross, and be changed into his likeness from glory to glory.</blockquote>
God grants us to behold the light of Christ by faith, and through that vision we are changed into his likeness. But let’s not forget the middle step. The light also strengthens us to bear the cross, as it did Jesus, and as it did the apostles.
And the cross is the only way forward. There’s no way around, just through. We can’t skip from here to Easter. That’s the whole purpose of the liturgical year, and the place where we now stand in it: We cannot understand the glory without the Passion. We cannot forsake our fears until we rise up and follow Jesus the whole way through. Like Peter, our witness to his glory will always be shortsighted until we get the full story.
That’s one way of putting it, but it’s not quite right, because we know, in a basic way, the full story. We know where all this is headed, both in the Gospel story and in its re-presentation in the liturgical year. We know what Peter didn’t yet know—that Jesus does, in the end, rise from the dead in glorious majesty.
But the question isn’t whether we know the informational details of the narrative, but whether we are prepared to “listen to” the Son of God, whether we can actually rise up and fear not. I want to suggest that this is primarily a question not of history, or of Bible knowledge or theology, but of the living experience of faith. In that sense, we’re in the same boat with Peter and the apostles. We have to follow him down the mountain to Jerusalem.
We like to speak in shorthand of faith as a kind of knowledge in the dark, but in fact all faith requires some kind of sight, even if it is something as simple as the trustworthiness of a witness. The sight that holy Tradition gives us—limited as it may be—consists in the necessity that we walk again, year by year, through the life of Jesus. That is what Lent is about, and, looking forward even more, that is what Holy Week is about.
God does not intend for us to blindly follow “cleverly devised myths,” or even to accept clever theological ideas. He wants us to walk in the steps of his Son so that we can hear to his voice. He wants us to be eyewitnesses to his glory so that we can rise up, cast off our fear, and take up our cross.

What Even Is the Transfiguration?

Are Catholics Divided Like Protestants?

Does the Rosary Take Marian Devotion Too Far?

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Martin Luther literally called himself a schismatic 😳

Jesus couldn’t have been clearer on the need for worship: quoting Deuteronomy 6:13, he reminds the tempter that “you shall worship the Lord your God, and him only shall you serve” (Luke 4:8). But although most Christians are agreed on the need to worship God, there are huge disagreements on how to worship him properly.
In place of the sacrifice of the Mass, Protestants invented new manmade religious services, ultimately creating many different worship traditions. But as different as they are, most of them have one thing in common. As the Protestant liturgist James White says, “most Protestant worship, historically and at present, has not made the Eucharist its central service,” and “when the eucharist is celebrated, it is often tacked on to the end (or beginning) of the usual Sunday service.”
What does this rejection of the Eucharist mean for true worship?
Let’s start with the bad news: the problem with a good deal of Protestant worship isn’t that it’s worship done badly. It’s that it’s not worship at all. I’m not just referring to the stereotypical megachurches in which pastors preach self-help clichés under the veneer of Christianity. I’m also talking about a good deal of so-called “traditional” Protestant services. For instance, here’s a prominent Baptist pastor <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-pastors-guide-to-leading-and-living-o-s-hawkins/1107028921">talking about</a> what a privilege it has been “to preach each Sunday behind one of the most, if not the most, influential, twentieth-century pulpits in the Western world,” and describing the role of the pulpit in the Baptist conception of worship:
<blockquote>That pulpit, like most pulpits in Baptist life, stands in the middle of the building, on center stage, so to speak. It is there to make a statement that central to Baptist worship is the preaching of the book of God to the people of God. . . . Proclamation, the preaching of the gospel, should be central to Christian worship. The sermon is the central dynamic in the worship experience. It is the fulcrum upon which the entire service of worship hinges. Everything that comes before it should point to it, and everything that comes after it should issue out of it (24).</blockquote>
That might make for a lovely religious talk, but none of what he describes there is worship. And it’s an incalculable loss to go from having churches built around the altar, where Jesus Christ is truly present and is offered to the Father, to churches built around the pulpit, in which a pastor tells us what he thinks Jesus’ message is.
Perhaps that sounds unfair. Some, like Biola’s Barry Lietsch, <a href="https://archive.org/details/peopleinpresence0000lies_c3b8">would reply</a> that Protestants are simply following the model of Jewish synagogues: “To this day Protestant worship is indebted to [synagogues’] emphasis on prayer, Scripture reading, teaching, lay involvement, and elder rule”<span style="user-select: text; -webkit-user-drag: none; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; font-variant-ligatures: none !important; background-image: var(--urlSpellingErrorV2, url(;" xml:lang="EN-US" data-contrast="auto"> (99). To be sure, there are some obvious similarities between what you’d find in many a Protestant church on Sunday morning and what you would find in a first-century synagogue (see Luke 4:16-21; Acts 13:15,27). 
But the problem is that Jesus didn’t consider Scripture reading or preaching to be worship, or even prayer. If we don’t see this, it’s because we tend to conflate preaching, praying, and worshiping. But to Jesus, these are three clearly distinct things. We might say that preaching is talking about God, praying is talking to God, and worship is giving God what is his due (sacrifice, divine honor, etc.). And for Jesus, these three things were done in three different places.
The synagogue is clearly a place for religious instruction and for preaching. Jesus gave the Bread of Life discourse “in the synagogue, as he taught at Capernaum” (John 6:59). So it’s a place of teaching. But it’s just as clearly not a place of prayer.
Today, synagogues are the place where Jewish believers come together for prayer, but this <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Role-Synagogue-Aims-Jesus/dp/1506428118">wasn’t the case</a> back in Jesus’ day (34). There’s a famous first-century synagogue in Jerusalem with an inscription on the floor that describes the synagogue as a place for “reading the Law and studying the commandments, and as a hostel with chambers and water installations to provide for the needs of itinerants from abroad.” But as Rabbi Reuven Hammer <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Entering-Jewish-Prayer-Personal-Devotion/dp/0805210229">points out</a>, there’s “no mention of prayer.” He argues that “although the argument from silence is never absolute, the evidence is overwhelming that synagogues in the time prior to the destruction of the Second Temple were primarily places for the dissemination of knowledge of the Torah on a popular level, and that whatever prayer took place there was either connected to study or secondary to it” (61).
After all, it’s not as if the New Testament is silent about the synagogue, or silent about prayer. Both are mentioned repeatedly. Yet we never read of anyone praying in the synagogue. In fact, it’s more extreme than this: the one time the synagogue is connected with prayer, it’s Jesus saying not to pray in the synagogue. That’s because the synagogue in Jesus’ day was a place for secular business and the study of Scripture, not a place of prayer or worship.
Jesus forbade praying in the synagogue not because he thought synagogues were bad places. He visited them weekly, going “about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues and preaching the gospel of the kingdom, and healing every disease and every infirmity” (Matt. 9:35). The synagogue is fine as a gathering spot, and it’s a great place to find a crowd to whom you can preach the Good News. But <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/early-music-history/article/abs/on-the-question-of-psalmody-in-the-ancient-synagogue/334BBEFEAB6687CDB60ADCCBA31292B3">the implication</a> of Jesus’ words in Matthew 6 is that “the synagogue is a public place like a street corner, not a proper place for prayer.” The Pharisees and hypocrites weren’t praying in the synagogue because it was a house of prayer (it wasn’t); they were praying there because it was a public place (like a street corner) where they could be seen acting piously.
This is indispensable for rightly understanding Christian worship. There’s nothing wrong with gathering together to read Scripture and discuss its meaning or to listen to an expert tell you what it means. That can be an important help in your spiritual journey; it was for Jesus, who was in the custom of attending synagogue weekly (Luke 4:16). But this can’t fill our spiritual need for prayer, and still less for worship.

When Protestant ‘Worship’ Isn’t Worship

<div>May "gay" men be ordained as priests?</div><div>Existing priests who may deal with homosexual tendencies yet are committed to a life of chastity and otherwise to the Church’s teachings can certainly continue in their priestly ministry.
Regarding candidates for the priesthood, in December 2016 the Congregation for the Clergy, with Pope Francis’s approval, reaffirmed that men who live a homosexual lifestyle, have “deep-seated homosexual tendencies,” or support the “so-called ‘gay culture’” cannot be admitted to the ministerial priesthood:
<blockquote>In relation to persons with homosexual tendencies who seek admission to seminary, or discover such a situation in the course of formation, consistent with her own Magisterium, “the Church, while profoundly respecting the persons in question, cannot admit to the seminary or to holy orders those who practise homosexuality, present deep-seated homosexual tendencies or support the so-called ‘gay culture.’ Such persons, in fact, find themselves in a situation that gravely hinders them from relating correctly to men and women. One must in no way overlook the negative consequences that can derive from the ordination of persons with deep-seated homosexual tendencies” (<a href="https://www.catholicculture.org/culture/library/view.cfm?recnum=11462">The Gift of Priestly Vocation</a> 199, footnotes omitted). </blockquote>
This document reaffirms that, contrary to some reports, the Church doesn&#8217;t view the term gay favorably, given its association with living and promoting a lifestyle that is irreconcilable with Jesus Christ and his teaching (see John 8:31-32).
Finally, for anyone dealing with same-sex attraction (SSA) and desiring to live a joyfully chaste life, we heartily recommend the work of the Catholic apostolate <a href="https://couragerc.org/">Courage</a>.
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What About ‘Gay’ Priests?

Jesus appeared to engage in rioting when he <a href="https://www.catholic.com/qa/did-jesus-sin-in-cleansing-the-temple">made a whip of cords and drove out the moneychangers</a> from the temple in Jerusalem. Does that mean it&#8217;s okay to riot and loot businesses to protest the murder of George Floyd? Trent Horn explains why the two situations are completely different.

Jesus Was Not a Rioter

On February 25th U.S. Airman Aaron Bushnell <a href="https://time.com/6821425/israel-embassy-air-force-protest-fire-self-immolation-aaron-bushnell-latest-updates/">committed suicide</a> by lighting himself on fire in front of the Israeli Embassy in Washington D.C. Bushnell died while shouting “Free Palestine” and intended his death to be a form of protest against the ongoing Israel-Hamas conflict.
In an attempt to normalize suicide as “political protest,” <a href="https://time.com/6835364/self-immolation-history-israel-hamas-war/">Time Magazine described the history of self-immolation</a> and said, “Self-immolation was also seen as a sacrificial act committed by Christian devotees who chose to be burned alive when they were being persecuted for their religion by Roman emperor Diocletian ​​around 300 A.D.” Time cited <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/a-terrible-act-of-reason-when-did-self-immolation-become-the-paramount-form-of-protest">a 2012 article</a> from The New Yorker in defense of this claim which said that “around 300 A.D., Christians persecuted by Diocletian set fire to his palace in Nicodemia and then threw themselves onto it—presumably, to express their objections to Roman policy and not to the emperor’s architectural taste.”
But this is false.
The fourth-century Christian historian Eusebius describes the fire in Nicomedia (not “Nicodemia” as The New Yorker wrote) <a href="https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/250108.htm">in book eight, chapters five and six</a>, of his work The Church History. He says of the fire&#8217;s cause that &#8220;a false suspicion was laid to our people,&#8221; i.e., Christians. He is not aware of Christians purposefully starting it. He then writes,
<blockquote>Entire families of the pious in that place were put to death in masses at the royal command, some by the sword, and others by fire. It is reported that with a certain divine and indescribable eagerness men and women rushed into the fire. And the executioners bound a large number of others and put them on boats and threw them into the depths of the sea.</blockquote>
This is not an example of suicide done to protest the Emperor’s actions. These Christians had been sentenced to death and some of them joyously accepted their impending <a href="https://www.catholic.com/encyclopedia/martyr">martyrdom</a> knowing they would receive the “martyr’s crown” in heaven as a reward (Rev. 2:10). Early Christian writers like Origen (Commentary on Matthew), Lactantius (Divine Institutes 3:18), and Augustine (City of God, 1.16-27) all condemned suicide as gravely sinful and made no exception for suicides done of out of protest towards unjust rulers.
The Church <a href="https://www.catholic.com/magazine/online-edition/what-the-church-really-teaches-about-suicide">teaches</a> that suicide is gravely evil but that “Grave psychological disturbances, anguish, or grave fear of hardship, suffering, or torture can diminish the responsibility of the one committing suicide” (CCC 2282). This means we should pray that God has mercy upon anyone who commits suicide, including Airman Bushnell.

No, Christians Didn’t Light Themselves on Fire

<div>Why did Vatican City end up in Rome, as opposed to another location, like Jerusalem?</div><div>It is not Rome that &#8220;inherited&#8221; the primacy of St. Peter, it is St. Peter&#8217;s successor who inherits the primacy. St. Peter died in Rome, and that is where he was succeeded by Pope St. Linus. At one time in Church history, valid popes were stationed in Avignon, France. The successor of St. Peter is where the primacy subsists, not the location.
Rome is where the successor of St. Peter has traditionally been bishop, because that is where Sts. Peter and Paul died, and it is historically where he has almost always been (except for the Avignon years). Early Church Fathers often referred to Pope St. Linus as succeeding Peter in Rome.
The bishops of Antioch and Jerusalem cannot claim to have succeeded St. Peter, because St. Peter was still active after leaving those cities. The bishops of Rome were seen as the high authority in the early Church, evidenced by Pope Clement&#8217;s letter to Corinth in which he has no doubts that he has the authority to intervene in the local Church dispute. And by the third century, St. Cyprian made no hesitation to refer to Rome as the chair of Peter and the principle Church.
</div>

Why Is the Vatican in Rome?

What is the gospel?

Chris Stefanick briefly explains how we can overcome poor catechesis by showing people that they hunger for love in their lives, and that the surest way to satisfy that desire is through Christ who is God&#8217;s love made present to us.
Transcript:
Host: Let&#8217;s go to Kurt in Janesville, Wisconsin listening on the Ave Maria App. Kurt, if you could kind of phrase your question succinctly, then I think we can get an answer from Chris before the end of the program.
Caller: I will. I think we&#8217;ve lost our Catholic identity in that we have the body and blood and the Real Presence of Jesus, and I don&#8217;t think a lot of Catholics know or believe this or have ever been taught this.
Chris: Yeah, agreed. You know, we have a generation of poor catechesis, and a generation of people who, again, when they hear words like &#8220;Body, blood, soul, divinity,&#8221; or &#8220;transubstantiated,&#8221; think, &#8220;How is this relevant to my life?&#8221;
You know, we have to grab people&#8217;s hearts and show them that this is the love you&#8217;re made for, that&#8217;s how it&#8217;s relevant to your life. And again this is the &#8220;kerygma&#8221; we call it, that primary proclamation of the Gospel, it has to infuse every teaching that we give. You know, so why should someone care about about transubstantiation? We go back to, well, because our hearts are made for something more. What&#8217;s that something more? We&#8217;re hungry for something, what&#8217;s that something we&#8217;re hungry for? It&#8217;s for love. Where do we experience that love? Body, blood, soul, divinity. You know, I think there&#8217;s&#8211;so we have a generation of people who have often forgotten to care about these things. And that&#8217;s the greatest apologetic of all: Why should I care? We gotta answer that question.
Host: And I should care because Christ is the love of God made present.
Chris: Amen. It&#8217;s what I&#8217;m made for.

Overcoming Generations of Poor Catechesis

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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

<div>When and why were the popes based in Avignon, France?</div><div>The Popes were in Avignon from 1309 to 1377.
In short, the influence of the French government resulted in the movement of the papal headquarters from Rome to Avignon. A clash between Pope Boniface VIII (r. 1294 -1303) and “Philip the Fair” of France (King Philip IV, r. 1295-1314) set in motion the events that would lead to the relocation, which took place during the pontificate of the French Pope Clement V (r. 1305-14). Clement V acceded to Philip IV’s demand to move the papal residence to Avignon.
St. Catherine of Siena was instrumental in ending the Avignon papacy. For more on this period in the Church, see <a href="https://www.catholic.com/magazine/online-edition/how-st-catherine-brought-the-pope-back-to-rome">this article by Steve Weidenkopf</a>.
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