Truer Words Have Never Been Spoken

This morning I came across a piece by Father George Rutler in this month's Magnificat about the much anticipated new translation of the Roman Missal.

In the course of discussing the extreme difficulty of providing an accurate translation of the Bible (or anything, really), he notes:

Times also change meanings: as architect of Saint Paul's Cathedral, Sir Christopher Wren was honored when Queen Anne said the finished building was awful and terrible; today she would have said awesome and overwhelming. And attempts to make words "culturally relevant" can be fraught with problems: I grew up with the King James Bible, one of the greatest works of art accomplished by a committee, but even my young ears thought it strange to hear that Pharaoh had a butler.

His "one of the greatest works of art accomplished by a committee" line prompted me to recall this plaque that hangs in my boss's office:

Surrexit Dominus Vere, Alleluia!

I think it's interesting that at Mass on Easter Sunday, in lieu of professing the Nicene Creed, each of us is cross-examined (pardon the pun) about its contents, and asked to affirm whether we believe what the Church believes.

We might ask ourselves, when we say the Creed on any other given Sunday, how much thought do we give it when we say, "On the third day He rose again in fulfillment of the Scriptures?"

Do we really believe this? Do our thoughts, words, and actions convey that we really believe this?

The Resurrection of Jesus is the central belief of our faith. It isn't just a nice story that only credulous bumpkins believe in. It is a story, yes, but it also happens to be a true story.

Because, you know, it really happened.

I had thought about writing today about how hopelessly and laughably implausible all of the alternative explanations to The Empty Tomb are, but I don't have time. That, and there are already many wiser than I who have written articles debunking the would-be debunkers, so I'll just link to one of those instead.

And I'll say this:

Christ is risen! Indeed He is Risen!

And yea, our faith is true:

If there is no resurrection of the dead, then neither has Christ been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, then empty (too) is our preaching; empty, too, your faith. Then we are also false witnesses to God, because we testified against God that he raised Christ, whom he did not raise if in fact the dead are not raised.

For if the dead are not raised, neither has Christ been raised, and if Christ has not been raised, your faith is vain; you are still in your sins.

Then those who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished. If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are the most pitiable people of all. But now Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. (1 Cor. 15: 13-20)

"The American Patriot's Pocket Bible, Camo Edition: The Word of God and the Shaping of America"

I'm gonna guess they didn't use the Douay-Rheims translation for this.



[HT: Mark Shea]

Surrexit Dominus Vere!

It's interesting, I think, that on the first day of Easter, in lieu of professing the Nicene Creed, each of us is cross-examined (pardon the pun) about its contents, and we are asked to affirm whether we believe what the Church believes.

We might ask ourselves, when we say the Creed on any other given Sunday, how much thought do we give it when we say, "On the third day He rose again in fulfillment of the Scriptures?"

Do we really believe this? Do our thoughts, words, and actions convey that we really believe this?

The Resurrection of Jesus is the central belief of our faith. It isn't just a nice story that only credulous bumpkins believe in. It is a story, yes, but it also happens to be a true story.

Because, you know, it really happened.

I had planned to write today about how hopelessly and laughably implausible all of the alternative explanations to The Empty Tomb are, but I don't have time. That, and there are already many wiser than I who have written articles debunking the would-be debunkers, so I'll just link to one of those instead.

And I'll say this:

Christ is risen! Indeed He is Risen!

And yea, our faith is true:

If there is no resurrection of the dead, then neither has Christ been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, then empty (too) is our preaching; empty, too, your faith. Then we are also false witnesses to God, because we testified against God that he raised Christ, whom he did not raise if in fact the dead are not raised.

For if the dead are not raised, neither has Christ been raised, and if Christ has not been raised, your faith is vain; you are still in your sins.

Then those who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished. If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are the most pitiable people of all. But now Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. (1 Cor. 15: 13-20)

"Neither Do I Condemn You"

At Mass this past Sunday, we heard the story of the woman caught in adultery (John 8:1-11).

One thing I find amazing about this passage is that it almost didn't make it into the Bible. In fact, before the canon of Scripture was finalized in the late 4th century, some versions of John's Gospel didn't include this story.

St. Augustine tells us (cf. De coniugiis adulterinis, 2, 6) that many early Christians were afraid of keeping this story in John's Gospel since it showed Jesus as being so merciful that they thought it might lead people to think that the reality of sin wasn't as big of a deal as the Church made it out to be.

Apparently, the Holy Spirit wasn't concerned about this, since He made sure the story was kept in there.

Related

Mark Shea's take on this story in his recent article on The Sixth Commandment is well worth a read. Check thou it out.

Christopher West

I first heard about Christopher West's appearance on Nightline a few weeks ago, but it wasn't until last week that I (a) saw the actual segment for myself, and (b) learned that many in the Catholic blogosphere have subsequently released the hounds on him.

Here's the segment in question:



Contrast that with this:



West has been getting pilloried by many fellow Catholics — treatment which is, in my opinion, grossly unfair.

If ABC's portrayal of West and his understanding of Catholic theology and sexuality were accurate, and if none of his statements had been taken out of context, it would be justified to give him Hail Columbia.

But it's not, and many of them were; and thus it isn't.

Recently Professor David Schindler offered a strong critique of West here, to which Professor Janet Smith (for whom I personally have tremendous respect as a Catholic moral theologian) and Professor Michael Waldstein offered their respective responses in defense of West's work here and here.

The best critique I've come across is from Jimmy Akin, who rightly cuts West a lot of slack:

Christopher West has a difficult job. As a chastity speaker, he's got to juggle several things at once:

1) He's got a very sensitive subject
2) On which different audiences have different sensibilities
3) The audience that most needs his message is very hard to reach
4) Part of the reason why they're so hard to reach is that they have a pre-existing stereotype of Christian sexual morality that they think gives them a license to tune out anything a Christian says on the subject
5) To reach this group you have to effectively batter your way past this anti-Christian prejudice and get them to take you seriously while simultaneously
6) Not offending the sensibilities of those who already take Christian sexual morality seriously
7) Some of whom have rigorist views on the topic

Through my job, I occasionally give chastity talks to junior high and high school teenagers, and thus I found myself nodding my head repeatedly as I read through this list.

Communicating the message of chastity takes a lot of thought and preparation — not to mention prayer — and figuring out the best way to do so is something I'm continually revisiting. (It's for this reason that when I do give chastity talks, I prefer that kids' parents be present also. Aside from the fact that parents are their children's primary educators — especially when it comes to such a crucial subject matter as sex — it also gives me a chance to hear feedback from moms and dads, which greatly helps me assess the degree to which I was able to "juggle" the various things on the aforesaid list.)

While I think it could be said that there are some "issues" with some aspects of Christopher West's speaking style — referring to Song of Songs as the "centerfold" of the Bible, for example, which Jimmy Akin addresses in his critique — in the end I agree with him that "West is a man on the side of the angels, and he's an effective speaker who has done a great deal of good."

Christ Is Risen!

Indeed He is Risen!

And yea, our faith is true:


If there is no resurrection of the dead, then neither has Christ been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, then empty (too) is our preaching; empty, too, your faith. Then we are also false witnesses to God, because we testified against God that he raised Christ, whom he did not raise if in fact the dead are not raised.

For if the dead are not raised, neither has Christ been raised, and if Christ has not been raised, your faith is vain; you are still in your sins.

Then those who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished. If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are the most pitiable people of all. But now Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. (1 Cor. 15: 13-20)

"Ecce Homo"

As we prepare over the next few days to commemorate the events that comprise the pivot on which everything else turns, I've included herein a reflection on Our Lord Jesus Christ's final hours from G.K. Chesterton's The Everlasting Man — the book that helped to make a Christian out of a young atheist named C. S. Lewis.

As we enter into the Triduum, this excerpt from a chapter titled "The Strangest Story in the World" reminds us of the significance of the events we prepare to recall:

When Jesus was brought before the judgement-seat of Pontius Pilate, he did not vanish. It was the crisis and the goal; it was the hour and the power of darkness. It was the supremely supernatural act, of all his miraculous life, that he did not vanish.

Every attempt to amplify that story has diminished it. The task has been attempted by many men of real genius and eloquence as well as by only too many vulgar sentimentalists and self-conscious rhetoricians. The tale has been retold with patronising pathos by elegant sceptics and with fluent enthusiasm by boisterous best-sellers. It will not be retold here. The grinding power of the plain words of the Gospel story is like the power of mill-stones; and those who can read them simply enough will feel as if rocks had been rolled upon them. Criticism is only words about words; and of what use are words about such words as these? What is the use of word-painting about the dark garden filled suddenly with torchlight and furious faces? 'Are you come out with swords and staves as against a robber? All day I sat in your temple teaching, and you took me not.' Can anything be added to the massive and gathered restraint of that irony; like a great wave lifted to the sky and refusing to fall? 'Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me but weep for yourselves and for your children.'

As the High Priest asked what further need he had of witnesses, we might well ask what further need we have of words. Peter in a panic repudiated him: 'and immediately the cock crew; and Jesus looked upon Peter, and Peter went out and wept bitterly.' Has anyone any further remarks to offer? Just before the murder he prayed for all the murderous race of men, saying, 'They know not what they do'; is there anything to say to that, except that we know as little what we say? Is there any need to repeat and spin out the story of how the tragedy trailed up the Via Dolorosa and how they threw him in haphazard with two thieves in one of the ordinary batches of execution; and how in all that horror and howling wilderness of desertion one voice spoke in homage, a startling voice from the very last place where it was looked for, the gibbet of the criminal; and he said to that nameless ruffian, 'This night shalt thou be with me in Paradise'? Is there anything to put after that but a full stop? Or is anyone prepared to answer adequately that farewell gesture to all flesh which created for his Mother a new Son?

It is more within my powers, and here more immediately to my purpose, to point out that in that scene were symbolically gathered all the human forces that have been vaguely sketched in this story. As kings and philosophers and the popular element had been symbolically present at his birth, so they were more practically concerned in his death; and with that we come face to face with the essential fact to be realised. All the great groups that stood about the Cross represent in one way or another the great historical truth of the time; that the world could not save itself. Man could do no more. Rome and Jerusalem and Athens and everything else were going down like a sea turned into a slow cataract. Externally indeed the ancient world was still at its strongest; it is always at that moment that the inmost weakness begins. But in order to understand that weakness we must repeat what has been said more than once; that it was not the weakness of a thing originally weak. It was emphatically the strength of the world that was turned to weakness and the wisdom of the world that was turned to folly.

In this story of Good Friday it is the best things in the world that are at their worst. That is what really shows us the world at its worst. It was, for instance, the priests of a true monotheism and the soldiers of an international civilisation. Rome, the legend, founded upon fallen Troy and triumphant over fallen Carthage, had stood for a heroism which was the nearest that any pagan ever came to chivalry. Rome had defended the household gods and the human decencies against the ogres of Africa and the hermaphrodite monstrosities of Greece. But in the lightning flash of this incident, we see great Rome, the imperial republic, going downward under her Lucretian doom. Scepticism has eaten away even the confident sanity of the conquerors of the world. He who is enthroned to say what is justice can only ask: 'What is truth?' So in that drama which decided the whole fate of antiquity, one of the central figures is fixed in what seems the reverse of his true role. Rome was almost another name for responsibility. Yet he stands for ever as a sort of rocking statue of the irresponsible. Man could do no more. Even the practical had become the impracticable. Standing between the pillars of his own judgement-seat, a Roman had washed his hands of the world.

There too were the priests of that pure and original truth that was behind all the mythologies like the sky behind the clouds. It was the most important truth in the world; and even that could not save the world. Perhaps there is something overpowering in pure personal theism; like seeing the sun and moon and sky come together to form one staring face. Perhaps the truth is too tremendous when not broken by some intermediaries divine or human; perhaps it is merely too pure and far away. Anyhow it could not save the world; it could not even conquer the world. There were philosophers who held it in its highest and noblest form; but they not only could not convert the world, but they never tried. You could no more fight the jungle of popular mythology with a private opinion than you could clear away a forest with a pocket-knife. The Jewish priests had guarded it jealously in the good and the bad sense. They had kept it as a gigantic secret. As savage heroes might have kept the sun in a box, they kept the Everlasting in the tabernacle. They were proud that they alone could look upon the blinding sun of a single deity; and they did not know that they had themselves gone blind. Since that day their representatives have been like blind men in broad daylight, striking to right and left with their staffs, and cursing the darkness. But there has been that in their monumental monotheism that it has at least remained like a monument, the last thing of its kind, and in a sense motionless in the more restless world which it cannot satisfy. For it is certain that for some reason it cannot satisfy. Since that day it has never been quite enough to say that God is in his heaven and all is right with the world, since the rumour that God had left his heavens to set it right.

"Neither Do I Condemn You"

In today's Gospel, we read the story of the woman caught in adultery (John 8:1-11).

For many reasons, this is one of my favorite Gospel stories. One thing I find amazing about it is that it almost didn't make it into the Bible. In fact, before the Bible was assembled the way it is today, some versions of John's Gospel didn't include this story.

St. Augustine says (cf. De coniugiis adulterinis, 2, 6) that many early Christians were afraid of keeping this story in John's Gospel since it showed Jesus as being so merciful that they thought it might lead people to think that the reality of sin wasn't as big of a deal as the Church made it out to be.

Apparently, the Holy Spirit wasn't concerned about this, since He made sure the story was kept in there.

Ka-ching for Planned Parenthood

When I see dreck like this:



...I can't decide whether to do this:



...or don sackcloth and ashes and recite the penitential psalms (followed, perhaps, by the imprecatory psalms).

Worth a Listen

Father Richard Simon, the current pastor at St. Lambert's Parish in Skokie, IL, is one of the best priests I know.

When I say "best", I mean that inasmuch as he possesses in spades the qualities of being orthodox, holy, down-to-earth, intelligent, eloquent, humble, and funny.

I first got to know him at the parish where he used to be pastor — St. Thomas of Canterbury in Chicago’s Uptown neighborhood — which runs a soup kitchen where Jocelyn and I volunteered while we were students at nearby Loyola University. (In fact, that's how we met.)

In addition, we've had the good fortune of having Father Simon lead our staff retreat the past two years.

For the past few years, my prayer has been that some time when Rome needs to go to the sacerdotal bullpen, he'll get the call and find himself the recipient of a ring and crozier.

Father Simon is a regular guest on Relevant Radio's "Searching the Word" program, and yesterday's topic was the canonicity of Scripture.

I only got to hear the first half of it, but Father was in rare form. As of this writing, yesterday's program is not yet available in the Archives, but I suspect it will be quite soon.

It's well worth a listen.

On Forgiveness

Over at FestungArnulfinger, The Dutchman has a smashingly good post on forgiveness.

One of the points he makes is that "[t]he best way to learn about forgiveness is to have a few kids."

Indeed. Aside, of course, from our having to learn to patiently, constantly, and lovingly forgive them, having kids also teaches us how to be better forgivers in another way.

Inevitably, we as parents fly off the handle and get mad at our kids from time to time. Amazingly, though, kids—little kids especially—have an ability to forgive us almost instantly.

A friend of mine recently pointed out that this is one of one of ways in which we must, as Jesus said, "become like little children".

A Curious Omission

I've written once previously about our men's bible study group (consisting mostly, but not entirely, of other guys at our parish).

The other night, as we continued our way through Luke's Gospel, we were discussing Luke 9:37-45, wherein Jesus exorcises a demon from an unnamed man's only child.

One verse in particular (42) jumped out at me, not so much for what it says, but for what it doesn't say:

As he was coming forward, the demon threw him to the ground in a convulsion; but Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, healed the boy, and returned him to his father.

What were the actual words Jesus used to exorcise the demon? St. Luke doesn't tell us.

Likewise, in the story of the Gerasene demoniac (Luke 8:26-39), Jesus doesn't tell us the actual words Jesus used to expel the demons:

A herd of many swine was feeding there on the hillside, and they pleaded with him [Jesus] to allow them to enter those swine; and he let them. The demons came out of the man and entered the swine, and the herd rushed down the steep bank into the lake and was drowned.

Now, I haven't taken the time to look at all the other Gospel stories recounting instances where Jesus exorcised demons, so I can't say whether this pattern holds true throughout such accounts, but for the aforesaid two instances, at least, I could speculate as to at least one possible explanation for why the evangelist omits the precise words Jesus uttered to expel the demons.

It goes without saying that God, being God, is all-powerful. His ability to do anything is a profound mystery that we as imperfect creatures can never quite get our head around.

One such manifestation of this amazingly awesome power God has is the ability to exorcise demons. How exactly He can do this is, by extension, a profound mystery as well.

It seems fitting, then, that the evangelist, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, did not record the actual words Jesus used to do so. In a very real sense, our not knowing the precise words seems to better convey the mystery of how He is able to accomplish such a miracle.

Christ Is Risen!

Indeed He is risen!

As of late, dear reader, you have no doubt been hearing reflections on the resurrection of Our Lord Jesus Christ articulated by those much wiser than I.

That said, all I will offer is this seemingly random thought that has occurred to me each year on Easter Sunday (since at least 1991, when I was in seventh grade) upon hearing the Gospel reading from John 20.

Perhaps this sounds puerile of me, but I must admit I'm always tempted to chuckle when I hear it proclaimed that my namesake mentions not once (cf. verse 4), but twice (cf. verse 8) that he outran Peter and reached the empty tomb first.

On Homosexuality and Disarming Bombs

There are some things life in which there is no room for error — things one must get exactly right, for the consequences of failing to do so are disastrous.

One of these is following the instructions for disarming a bomb. (Thankfully, though, this is something most of us will probably never have to worry about doing ourselves.)

Another is understanding the the truth of the Catholic Church's teaching on homosexuality and same-sex attraction (SSA). Unlike disarming a bomb, however, this is something all of us must endeavor to study, understand, appreciate, and be able to articulate, as it is perilously easy to get the Church's teaching wrong, either in whole or in part, and the consequences of doing so can so readily result in the loss or souls — either by redefining the moral law to tacitly wink at same-sex acts, or by uncharitably preaching a false gospel of irredeemable hostility to persons living with same-sex attraction.

I've been meaning to post on this topic for some time now, and this BBC article — which Mark Shea rightly characterized today as "the usual blah guaranteed to kill brain cells" prompted me to do so.

A few months ago, we received an e-mail, the likes of which we get from time to time, accusing us of hating homosexuals. In all honesty, I felt sorry for this person, as she is so self-evidently uninformed about what the Catholic Church teaches (and thus, what we believe).

The best I could do, I figured, was to try, as charitably as I could, to point out her misunderstandings and refer her to other suggestions for further reading.

I've included below said e-mail and, following that, my reply. To date, I have not received a response from this woman; still, I maintain hope that she reconsidered some of her inaccurate perceptions.

-----Original Message-----
From: [Name Withheld] [mailto:[Emailaddresswithheld@hotmail.com]
Sent: Thursday, December 20, 2007 6:56 PM
To: info@prolifeaction.org
Subject: Letter for you


Hello,

I have read over your website and I have a question. If the Pro Life Action League's main priority is conserving traditional Christian values and praying for the well being of our society, isn't condemning an entire community of our neighbors and rallying to prevent them from experiencing God's greatest gift-- love, and the ability to declare that love publicly through state and federally recognized marriage-- extremely counterproductive to your cause??

Your bible, as well as the first 5 books of the bible, known as the Torah to your Jewish friends and neighbors, clearly quotes the following in Leviticus 19: 17-18: "Thou shall not avenge, nor bear any grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." Also, in the New Testament Matthew 5: 43: Jesus says, "Love thy neighbor as thyself". I have combed through both testaments with extreme care over a period of several years and NEVER have I seen God or Jesus command that we love thy neighbor only if he or she is heterosexual. Its just simply "love thy neighbor" period.

Something else doesn't make sense to me. You may argue that God said that homosexuality is an "abomination". Why would we, as a community, chose to recognize that piece of scripture but clearly ignore every other abomination that God (allegedly) claims? For example, God clearly states that working on the Sabbath day is an abomination and should be punished by death. Strangely enough, I happened to pass a Family Christian stores on a Sunday once and lo and behold... it was open! People were working! Should they be put to death? If we follow with your understanding of taking God's word seriously and literally, then we should. Additionally, the bible declares it an abomination to consume pork or shellfish, yet I was invited to a lovely baptism cermony recently that ended with a luncheon of ham steaks, potatoes, and vegetables. But they were good Christians! They had their child baptised! Should we ban them from church because of their pork-based lunch? And following the same logic, should we ban gays who are monogamous and love each other from marrying? How can we support one of those ideas and not the other without being entirely hypocritical??

To me, people who choose to spend their time and energy preventing people who love each other from marrying because of their gender is wholly UNchristian. It goes against the most important and beautiful gospel of your lord, Jesus. Jesus said that the bedrock of Christianity is love for our neighbor. It would seem as though people who rally against gay marriage are not true Christians at all, and going against the most important tenet of the word of God. Worst of all, these people are ruining the reputation of true Christians who choose to preach love and tolerance, like Jesus did.

But then there's that old adage: if you hate homosexuals, maybe its because secretly you are hiding some same sex feelings yourself. It would certainly seem that way in the case of Republican Senator Larry Craig, among numerous other cases.

I implore you to look into your heart. Would Jesus really want you to prevent the state's recognition of LOVE between two people? Wouldn't Jesus want you to support love in all of its forms? After all, we are ALL made in God's image, including gays, lesbians, bisexuals, trangendered people, genderqueers, polyamorists, etc.

I welcome a response! Please write back any time.

Thanks for your time.

[Name Withheld]

Do not believe anything simply because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations. But after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it.

Buddha

I replied:

Dear [Name Withheld],

Thanks for writing.

First, let me clarify that all of us who work for the Pro-Life Action League are Catholic; furthermore, we accept, believe, and profess everything the Catholic Church teaches, including her teachings on human sexuality.

That said, it seems you have some significant misconceptions about what the Church teaches about homosexuality.

To find out what the Catholic Church actually teaches about homosexuality, please allow me to make a few suggestions for further reading.

My first suggestion is an entry I posted on the Generations for Life blog last year in response to a document on homosexuality issued by the U. S. Catholic Bishops.

This blog post, as you'll see, contains extensive blockquotes from a pseudonymous blogger, CourageMan, a Catholic man with same-sex attraction who is committed to living chastely.

If you're looking for an authentically Catholic Christian perspective on homosexuality, I can't recommend CourageMan's blog highly enough. Not only does he possess an all too rare firm grasp of the Church's teachings in this area, but he's also an amazingly talented writer — the kind of writer one really enjoys reading. My only regret is that he doesn't blog more often.

I also cannot recommend highly enough the writings of Ron Belgau. Like CourageMan, Belgau is also a Catholic man with same-sex attraction who is committed to living chastely.

I would recommend in particular two of Belgau's essays: "Does the Bible Condemn Homosexuality"? and "Sodom and the City of God". The second of these is probably the best single essay I've ever read on homosexuality.

I would also recommend the writings of Eve Tushnet — yet another amazingly talented writer — a woman with same-sex attraction and a convert to Catholicism who is also committed to living chastely. Her blog is here, which also contains links to many of her essays and articles written for various publications.


Yours for Life,

John Jansen
Co-Director
Generations for Life
Youth Outreach of the Pro-Life Action League
http://generationsforlife.org
http://prolifeaction.org

"Neither Do I Condemn You"

In today's Gospel, we read the story of the woman caught in adultery (John 8:1-11).



For many reasons, this is one of my favorite Gospel stories. One thing I find amazing about it is that it almost didn't make it into the Bible. In fact, before the Bible was assembled the way it is today, some versions of John's Gospel didn't include this story.

St. Augustine says (cf. De coniugiis adulterinis, 2, 6) that many early Christians were afraid of keeping this story in John's Gospel since it showed Jesus as being so merciful that they thought it might lead people to think that the reality of sin wasn't as big of a deal as the Church made it out to be.

Apparently, the Holy Spirit wasn't concerned about this, since He made sure the story was kept in there.

Thou Shalt, Like, Not Kill, Dude

I defy you to read this story without laughing:

Moses was high on drugs: Israeli researcher

JERUSALEM (AFP) - High on Mount Sinai, Moses was on psychedelic drugs when he heard God deliver the Ten Commandments, an Israeli researcher claimed in a study published this week.

Such mind-altering substances formed an integral part of the religious rites of Israelites in biblical times, Benny Shanon, a professor of cognitive psychology at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem wrote in the Time and Mind journal of philosophy.

"As far Moses on Mount Sinai is concerned, it was either a supernatural cosmic event, which I don't believe, or a legend, which I don't believe either, or finally, and this is very probable, an event that joined Moses and the people of Israel under the effect of narcotics," Shanon told Israeli public radio on Tuesday.

Moses was probably also on drugs when he saw the "burning bush," suggested Shanon, who said he himself has dabbled with such substances.

"The Bible says people see sounds, and that is a clasic [sic] phenomenon," he said citing the example of religious ceremonies in the Amazon in which drugs are used that induce people to "see music."

He mentioned his own experience when he used ayahuasca, a powerful psychotropic plant, during a religious ceremony in Brazil's Amazon forest in 1991. "I experienced visions that had spiritual-religious connotations," Shanon said.

He said the psychedelic effects of ayahuasca were comparable to those produced by concoctions based on bark of the acacia tree, that is frequently mentioned in the Bible.

HT: Sean Dailey at Blue Boar

Is Sola Scriptura Biblical?

Several weeks ago, a Protestant fellow who goes by the name HisMan left a comment on an entry I posted last year.

I had said:

[S]ola scriptura is a position that is itself not supported by Scripture (cf., for example, 2 Thess. 2:15, 2 Tim. 2:2, Luke 10:16, Rom. 10:17, 1 Pet. 1:25, 1 Cor. 11:2, 1 Cor. 15:3).

...to which HisMan said:

The scriptures you list in fact support sola scriptura as they ALL point to the word. I don't suspect that Paul was saying anything different than what he inlcuded in his epistles.

In turn, I posted a comment telling HisMan I didn't have time to respond at the time, but that I'd try to do so in the near future.

Hence the reason for this post. If you're still poking around these parts, HisMan, this one's for you.

My first reaction is that this argument begs the question.

Beyond that, it's also worth pointing out that whenever one attempts to interpret Scripture in such a way as to justify belief in sola scriptura, he is ipso facto negating said belief.

Indeed, if sola scriptura were true, then the Bible would require exactly no interpretation by any person, since this interpretation would necessarily be derived from an extrabiblical source. In that case, Scripture would simply interpret itself.

As Catholic apologist Jimmy Akin has pointed out:

If you have the idea of sola scriptura as one of your founding theological principles and you don't give Tradition a normative role then you've got to derive your system from Scripture alone.

That's when you run into problems, because there are many questions that Christians need answers to (e.g., "Who is it okay to baptize and just how do you administer baptism?") that aren't answered in Scripture. Scripture thus points beyond itself to Tradition for these answers. In fact, Scripture itself is simply the written component of Tradition.

Without the extra-scriptural complement of Tradition, Scripture does not contain enough data to provide confident answers to all the questions that need confident answering (such as the ones mentioned above), and so one attempting to operate from the perspective of sola scriptura will inevitably have to propose some kind of system that can't be fully grounded in Scripture in order to answer those questions.

But if you reject the premise of sola scriptura and allow Tradition to fill in the missing pieces, you end up with enough data to build systematic theology--even if the result is a system that must, by definition, go beyond Scripture in the data it treats as normative.

Jimmy Akin has some other instructive posts dealing with different aspects of sola scriptura here, here, and here.

I wish I'd the time to write more on this topic, but I don't. Thus, I'll simply link to a couple of articles by some fellows who are much more knowledgeable about this subject than I:

• "According to Scripture" by Tim Staples


• "Why the Bereans Rejected Sola Scriptura" by Steve Ray


• "The Lens in My Eye" by Mark Shea

This last one I found particularly fascinating. It begins:

I wondered: Is it really true that we Evangelicals never treat extrabiblical tradition as authoritative revelation? Is it really the case that all Evangelical belief is derived from the clear and unambiguous teaching of the Bible alone? Do we really speak forth only what Scripture speaks, keep silent where Scripture is silent, and never bind the conscience of the believer on those questions in which Scripture permits different interpretations?

I wondered. Especially since the living fossil of the Tradition of the Table of Contents still inexplicably swam like a coelacanth in the ocean of Evangelical faith precisely where we said tradition had gone extinct. What if there were other supposedly extinct extrabiblical coelacanths down there too?

To find out, I decided to try an experiment. I would look at Evangelical -- not Catholic -- belief and practice to see if there was any other evidence of tradition being treated like revelation. I would see if there were any other rock-bottom, non-negotiable, grade A, can't-do-without-'em beliefs which, like the Table of Contents, were not attested (or very weakly attested) in the Bible, yet which we orthodox Evangelicals treated like revelation. If I found such things, and if they had an ancient pedigree, it seemed to me this would be very strong evidence that the apostolic paradosis not only was larger than the Bible alone, but that it had -- somehow -- been handed down to the present.

So I started taking a good long look at non-negotiable Evangelical beliefs as they were actually lived out in my church and churches like it. To my surprise, I found several such weakly attested non-negotiables...

Read the rest here.

There But for the Grace of God Go I

My co-worker Matt Yonke, a Byzantine Catholic, notes on his blog that yesterday the Gospel reading proclaimed in the Eastern Churches was that of the Pharisee and the Publican.

He recalls:

Catholic moms have a bunch of sayings that, as a protestant without Catholic friends, I was never exposed to. Among them is, when a kid is acting self-righteous in relation to another person, “Just remember, they could go to heaven and you could go to hell.”

We’re preparing for a season or repentance. So repent, Pascha is at hand. And give the pharisee a break. He could be in heaven and you could end up in hell.

And how.

On a closely related note, I've always had a special affinity for deathbed conversion stories — Oscar Wilde, Wallace Stevens (supposedly), John Wayne, et al.

Think of how absolutely maddening deathbed conversions must be to the Evil One: a soul is mere moments away from being snatched into hell for all eternity, but then, suddenly, through the grace of the Holy Spirit, is rescued from his clutches.

Think of the wailing and gnashing of teeth that must take place in hell every time this happens.

And then rejoice, and pray that the Evil One be similarly enraged when you die.

I'm reminded of an article H.W. Crocker wrote in what was then known as Crisis Magazine titled "What's So Great about Catholicism", in which he wrote:

Classical paganism, as we know, always ended in despair—a noble despair sometimes, but despair nevertheless. Eastern religions don’t offer much in the way of hope, as they are tied to doctrines of fate, cycles of history, and a nirvana of extinction. Reformation Protestantism is pretty despairing, too, with Calvin’s belief that it would have been better for most people if they had never been born, predestined as they are for damnation. Secularism and materialism are no better, as wealthy secular societies tend to have the highest rates of suicide.

But in the Catholic Church, there is hope. Salvation is open to every man willing to take it. And though Jesus warned His apostles that following His way meant enduring inevitable persecution and hatred, He also gave them this promise: The gates of hell would not prevail against the Church. Even outsiders recognize this. Who ever heard of a deathbed conversion to Methodism? Hope comes from the Real Thing.

Sure, Charlie Brown, I can tell you what Christmas is all about.

"Lights, please."



Linus said it best.