Author Archives: frjoelphelps

Baptism and the Parable of the Wedding Feast

Jesus tells a parable in Matthew 22:1-14 describing a king that is hosting a wedding banquet for his son. The initial guests do not respond positively and so servants are sent out to the all the edges of the kingdom to invite everyone they find. The feast is filled with people, but there is one more step in the parable. The king encounters one guest without a wedding garment. The guest cannot explain why he is lacking one, and so is removed from the party. This parable can actually give us some powerful insights into our baptism! (This is a longer post, so if you just want the summary, jump to the bottom…)

Baptism is the first sacrament one receives in the Catholic Church, and is the gateway to all of the others. It restores the wound of original sin, forgives personal sin, and elevates us to supernatural life. We speak of ourselves as a child of God the Father, a brother or sister of Christ, and a temple of the Holy Spirit. However, over the years some have raised objections to our practice of baptism, so let’s look at how we might use this parable to clear up confusion.

First, some have objected to the idea of baptism as emphasizing human action in salvation—in other words, that *we* save them by baptism rather than God. Instead, they would argue we are saved by faith alone. Giving this much importance to baptism was a later corruption from the Gospel teaching. It would be like inviting ourselves to the king’s banquet.

In contrast, we believe that God’s action is actually primary in baptism. God freely sends forth the invitation, and baptism is our response. What’s more, baptism isn’t a response that we created. It is the covenant sign that God has instituted to give this grace. Christ clearly teaches it before the Ascension (Matthew 28:19), and it is the instruction that Peter gives on Pentecost when the people ask what they should do: “repent and be baptized” (Acts 2:37-38). Likewise, after hearing Philip explain the Gospel, the Ethiopian’s first response is to ask if he can be baptized (Acts 8:35-36). Baptism was included as part of the essential preaching in this first generation of the Church. Additionally, they speak of baptism as more than just a sign. It contains power to save: “This prefigured baptism, which saves you now. It is not a removal of dirt from the body but an appeal to God for a clear conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 3:21). Again, the importance we give to baptism flows from the Gospel, not just human custom. It is by baptism that God gives us the “wedding garment” (to use the image of the parable). It isn’t based on superstition (saying certain actions will force God to do something), but based on God’s covenantal promise (in which he has said he will be faithful to this sacrament). The grace of the sacrament comes from God, not the human minister.

Another question that often comes up is about infant baptism. Why do we baptize those who cannot understand the meaning or assent? Here is another place that we can see the Catholic emphasis on the divine initiative. The grace God sends is his free gift, and Scripture gives us evidence of his willingness to even bless little children. Jesus rebukes his disciples from preventing little children from coming to him for a blessing (Mark 10:13). Scripture witnesses to entire families being baptized (e.g., Acts 16:33, Acts 18:8). Paul also draws a parallel with circumcision (cf. Colossians 2:11-12), which was celebrated on the eighth day after birth. Last, we can also look at the witness of the early Church, where infant baptism was clearly practiced without raising the objection that this was contrary to the teaching of the apostles.

A final objection may flow from this: what about the freedom of the child? Or, similarly, the freedom of an adult that has been baptized? If it is a gift that God freely gives, is it possible for us to lose it? This claim is often described as holding “once saved, always saved.”

Here the final section of our wedding banquet parable comes into play—in which the king removes a guest for lacking a wedding garment. The king approaches the guest and gives him an honest chance to explain himself, but the guest is reduced to silence. It is not that he has been unable to purchase a garment because of need (the king gave it to him), or that it was stolen by another against his will (true sin requires freedom). The guest is reduced to silence because the truth is that he has consented to its loss. He did not value it highly enough among his other concerns. Likewise, the grace of baptism is a relationship that is entrusted to us. It is represented in the baptism ceremony by the white garment the person wears—a direct connection with the “wedding garment.” We do not baptize those without a hope that they will be brought up in an environment to foster this relationship. A child is free to consent to this grace or reject it later in life. An analogy would be that we do not fault parents for seeking to start an infant on a healthy diet, even if that child might later reject it and choose junk food. A parent can’t choose to raise a child in an empty context, and so baptism provides a context of grace and blessing that can later be embraced or not by the individual.

We also do not re-baptize someone that has “lost” this garment. Rather, we believe that it is restored through repentance—especially in the sacrament of Reconciliation/Confession, which was sometimes called the “baptism of tears.” This emphasis on a single baptism was even included in the Creed written by the early Church. Like marriage, baptism begins a relationship that must be continued. A couple is going to have trouble if they think the relationship won’t require more work after the wedding! They renew their promises day after day, but don’t need to re-marry each other after a fight. Baptism establishes a permanent relationship, but one that still respects our freedom and calls for a response.

To summarize, the parable of the wedding banquet gives a great analogy for our understanding of baptism. God has freely invited us to partake of his life (invited us to the feast). He has instituted this sacred sign (sacrament) to give us this life (the wedding garment). This is not a gift to neglect or forget, but a relationship to be lived and nourished (a garment to be worn, not to be lost). May God renew us in this grace daily!

What led me to the rosary?

The rosary is one of the most distinctive Catholic prayers, but it didn’t come easily to me. It seemed so long, and kind of outdated. Others have concerns about devotions to Mary in general—do they lead us to Christ? In the end the rosary proved to be one of the devotions that most helped me grow closer to God—and a key step in beginning to consider a vocation to the priesthood.

When I entered college I joined the campus council of the Knights of Columbus (around November). They gave out rosaries, asked us to carry them, and encouraged us to pray them as often as we could. I did begin keeping mine in my pocket but never prayed it. I don’t think I had prayed a rosary since Sunday school, but it did intrigue me. I knew other people prayed the rosary and spoke highly of it. So, when it came time to pick a Lenten goal in the spring my mind went back to the rosary. I had a sense it would be a good thing to do, and a little sense of responsibility since I had not followed through on praying it yet. I set a goal to pray it each day during Lent.

At first I had to look up the instructions online. I knew the basic prayers by memory, but was fuzzy on some of the details. In particular, I needed a refresher on the “mysteries” of the rosary. These are one of the keys to what makes the rosary such a powerful method of prayer. If you aren’t familiar with them, how it works is that each “decade” of the rosary is made up of an Our Father, 10 Hail Marys, and a Glory Be. During each decade you call to mind a particular event from the life of Christ or Mary (called the “mysteries”) and reflect on it. These mysteries are grouped into four categories (Joyful, Luminous, Sorrowful, and Glorious). A standard rosary consists of praying all five decades of one group of mysteries. For example, the Joyful mysteries include the Annunciation of the birth of Jesus to Mary, the Visitation of Mary to her cousin Elizabeth, the birth of Jesus, the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple, and the finding of the child Jesus in the Temple.

It was a tough habit to start. In the beginning most of my effort was focused on the logistics (what to say and when). After a little while I began to be able to focus on the mysteries and really think about them. The set of prayers gave me a fixed amount of time to think, and something to “do” to help focus. I gradually realized that the mysteries basically took you through the life of Christ, from the Annunciation all the way through our entrance into the life of heaven. These reflections began to bring together the “big picture” for me, and I began to really think about these things. I came to understand more about what the mysteries meant and how they connected with events I was facing. It wasn’t an abstract or solitary reflection, but one carried out in union with Jesus’ mother, Mary. Thanks be to God, I was able to continue this practice throughout all of Lent, and it really changed me. It’s hard to exaggerate how much this helped me to grow in an adult understanding of my faith and in my ability to enter into conversation with God during prayer. It ended up being my Lenten practice again my sophomore year of college, and it was shortly after that when I began to consider my calling from God. Developing this serious life of prayer (even if just 15-20 minutes a day) was something essential in becoming who I am today. Providentially, I later found out the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary is the anniversary of my baptism—a connection that brings me great joy!

There are different forms of prayer, but I wanted to share this one since it was a powerful avenue of grace in my life (and in countless others over the past 800 years or so!). It can be prayed in its fuller form, or even just one decade at a time. It is a great prayer for groups or to pray alone. It can be prayed in a church, on a walk, or in the car. Each decade can be offered for a particular intention, which makes it a great prayer of petition. It is a prayer that continues to adapt with you throughout life! I really had no idea where it would lead me, but am so grateful for what God has done. It humbles me to realize how God overcame my resistance and led me to follow Him

Take the time to pray. If you don’t know where to start or how to grow, take the time to have a conversation with someone that does have a serious life of prayer. You won’t regret it. God bless!

Who are the archangels?

September 29th is the feast day for the archangels in the Catholic Church. We list three- Saints Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael. Michael is referenced in the Old Testament book of Daniel (chapters 10 and 12), the letter of Jude in the New Testament, and the book of Revelation. Gabriel also appears in Daniel (chapters 8 and 9), and in the first chapter of Luke (appearing to Mary and Zechariah). Raphael appears in the Old Testament book of Tobit, and is sometimes connected with the angel in John 5. They represent three ways that angels serve in the Scriptures: to protect, to announce, and to heal. I’ll let St Gregory the Great take it the rest of the way! (From Homily 34)

You should be aware that the word “angel” denotes a function rather than a nature. Those holy spirits of heaven have indeed always been spirits. They can only be called angels when they deliver some message. Moreover, those who deliver messages of lesser importance are called angels; and those who proclaim messages of supreme importance are called archangels. And so it was that not merely an angel but the archangel Gabriel was sent to the Virgin Mary. It was only fitting that the highest angel should come to announce the greatest of all messages.
  Some angels are given proper names to denote the service they are empowered to perform. In that holy city, where perfect knowledge flows from the vision of almighty God, those who have no names may easily be known. But personal names are assigned to some, not because they could not be known without them, but rather to denote their ministry when they came among us. Thus, Michael means “Who is like God”; Gabriel is “The Strength of God”; and Raphael is “God’s Remedy.”
  Whenever some act of wondrous power must be performed, Michael is sent, so that his action and his name may make it clear that no one can do what God does by his superior power. So also our ancient foe desired in his pride to be like God, saying: I will ascend into heaven; I will exalt my throne above the stars of heaven; I will be like the Most High. He will be allowed to remain in power until the end of the world when he will be destroyed in the final punishment. Then, he will fight with the archangel Michael, as we are told by John: A battle was fought with Michael the archangel.
  So too Gabriel, who is called God’s strength, was sent to Mary. He came to announce the One who appeared as a humble man to quell the cosmic powers. Thus God’s strength announced the coming of the Lord of the heavenly powers, mighty in battle. Raphael means, as I have said, God’s remedy, for when he touched Tobit’s eyes in order to cure him, he banished the darkness of his blindness. Thus, since he is to heal, he is rightly called God’s remedy.

How do we pray in solidarity?

As Christians we pray for other people. This is what we call “intercession.” It isn’t the only type of prayer, but is an important one! St Paul writes, “First of all, then, I ask that supplications, prayers, petitions, and thanksgivings be offered for everyone” (1 Timothy 2:1). It is a way that we extend our concern for all. We are convinced that we are better able to face our difficulties when we pray, and that likewise we are better prepared when others are praying for us.

However, how do we keep everyone in mind? We know that we have limited financial resources, but even with prayer we experience our limitations. The modern world gives us more and more opportunities to learn about problems, which often surpasses what we can do in response. It is an impossible task to always be aware of everything. It can make the mission of prayer seem overwhelming. We see this at times with the modern attempt to stay “woke” (aware of every current issue). This easily degenerates into a discouraging treadmill or a sort of one-upmanship (highlighting the way that others aren’t as current as ourselves, etc).

I want to highlight a few ways to approach the work of intercession from a Christian perspective. First, we recognize that our responsibilities begin within our sphere of influence. We start with care for those that are closest to us, and seek to grow that circle however we are able. If we do not have the resources (material or spiritual) to go very far, we humbly begin with the portion of the Lord’s work that we can undertake. We resist the temptation to give up because of the immensity of the task. Second, we rely on our public prayers, which draw us into wider circles. The prayers at Mass in particular range out to touch the needs of the entire world. Where two or three are gathered, the Lord is present in our midst (Matthew 18:20). Finally, in our prayer we can leave space for the Lord to work within us. When we put an excessive burden on ourselves we forget that prayer involves the work of God to draw us into his work of redemption. St Paul writes, “for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings” (Romans 8:26). It is important to create room for silence in our prayer, because it is here that the Spirit can work.

When the needs of the world overwhelm us, let us humbly offer our hearts and minds to the Lord, that the gift of intercession may well up within us when the needs of our brothers and sisters surpass what we are able to face alone.

How do you carry a cross with grace?

One of Jesus’ famous sayings is, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me” (Matthew 16:24). What does it mean to carry a cross, and how do we do so with grace?

“The cross” symbolizes the difficulties of the mission or calling we have received in life. Some of those difficulties may come from our own poor choices. We may have made decisions that caused damage to our life or to other relationships, and now require work to repair. Some aspects of the cross may be beyond our control. Other people may create obstacles, or circumstances may present difficulties beyond anyone’s control. However, whether they are voluntary or involuntary, we have the interior choice to embrace them to the extent that we must, or to allow them to overcome us. When we embrace them we remember that we are not embracing suffering for its own sake, but for the sake of the mission we have received. Will it be accomplished, or will we allow it to remain unfinished?

Making the decision to “take up our cross” is only a first step. How do we plan to carry that cross? As funny as it is, we so often choose to do so in the most difficult way. I’ve certainly chosen to tackle things the “hard way” plenty of times myself! So, we also want to look at how we can carry the cross with grace.

  1. We shouldn’t be afraid of our failures or weaknesses. Instead, they are opportunities to grow in the essential virtue of humility. Humility doesn’t mean thinking of ourselves as terrible people but is about acknowledging the truth about ourselves. The cross will at times reveal our weaknesses, and so can allow us to grow in better self-awareness. Christ came to save our real self, not an image that we have created to show to others.
  2. Related to that, the cross can open us up to an experience of mercy. Mercy is a gift freely offered by God, and it is a powerful thing to receive it when we are aware of our true need for it. Likewise, we shouldn’t be afraid to receive mercy and help from others. God didn’t intend us to carry our cross alone, and trying to do so is an example of choosing to do things the hard way! When we experience our weaknesses we should reach out for support. It is not true that no one cares, or that no one can help us. We need a serious prayer life. We need friends or some form of community. For Catholics we have the profound gift of the Sacrament of Confession/Reconciliation. Many stay away from this out of embarrassment, when it is a tremendous opportunity to talk directly about our greatest difficulties. God desires to give forgiveness, grace, and counsel. Why stay away?
  3. Being aware of our weaknesses can also help us to grow in compassion for others. Understanding our own cross gives us grounds to understand others who struggle (whether in similar or different ways). We can pray for an increase in patience and understanding with others when we encounter our own weakness.
  4. Last (at least for this list!), Christ invites us to see our cross as united with his in the work of the fulfillment of the redemption. There is a tradition among Catholics of “offering up” our struggles as a form of prayer for others. For example, when we engage in our least favorite part of our vocation or job, we can offer it for the needs of others. This can be done in general or for some particular need (e.g. those who struggle with similar things, the needs of our family, a world disaster, etc). It is a way of imitating the profound words of St Paul: “Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of his body, which is the church” (Colossians 1:24). We don’t understand this as saying that there is something insufficient in the work of Christ, but rather that we can share in the continued extension of this work. In the Mass we have a concrete moment to unite our cross with Christ’s. The truth is that if we avoid our mission there is some work in the world that will not be done. Instead of being so afraid of taking up our cross, maybe we should be afraid of not allowing the mission given to us to be fulfilled!

Carrying the cross is not easy, and these words only tackle a few of the issues. However, I hope they give some help to understanding the work we are called to undertake, and how to do it with grace. God bless!

Why believe in Christ? Part I: What sets him apart

Today I thought I’d post on the “second level” of belief. I’ve done a couple of posts on the “first level” (belief in God in general), and so now we move on to the question of Jesus Christ. Why believe in him among other religions? At this point I am not distinguishing between different groups of Christians (Catholics, Protestants, Orthodox, etc), but looking at Christ himself. I think the first point is to understand the basic difference that we believe separates Christ from other prophets or holy people. It is well portrayed in a passage from Matthew 16:

“Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” [The disciples] replied, “Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” [Jesus] said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter said in reply, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Jesus said to him in reply, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father.”

The question here centers on his identity rather than any particular action. Usually a person is significant to us because of what they have done. It is the opposite for Christ—his actions are significant because of who he *is.* From eternity he is the Son of God (the Second Person of the Trinity). In time he takes on human nature as the Son of Man (born of the Virgin Mary). He is therefore true God and true man, one Person with two Natures (divine and human). A nature is a source of action, so by his divine nature he knows and loves in an infinite way. By his human nature, though, he is able to share in suffering and death (and to know and love in a human way). Therefore, he is able to live a human life but filled with a perfect charity.

What problem did he come to solve? The separation between mankind and God. We see, then, that in his own Person he reconciles the two! The work of redemption involves the joining together of these two realities. Salvation involves sharing in the divine life. Divine life overcomes the limitation of death, sickness, and sin. It offers an invitation to hope and love in a manner that surpasses human nature alone—as seen in the lives of the saints. As Athanasius put it, God became man that man might become God. Christ possesses divine life by nature, but we can possess it by participation. It is not something that we can create ourselves—it transcends created things. We believe that God has freely chosen to offer this to us through Christ.

This, then, is why we believe Christ is worthy of belief. He doesn’t just claim to be a prophet or a holy man, but claims to be God incarnate. This means that there is something unique and fundamentally different about his actions. In other posts I will look at reasons to believe that this claim is true, and at the question of different Christian communities/churches. But, from the beginning we need to be clear on this fundamental claim of Christ: he is truly the Son of God and truly the Son of Man.

John Chrysostom Homily on “You are the Salt of the Earth”

Today I am going to include a “guest post” from St John Chrysostom (a bishop of Constantinople, d. 407 AD). It is a favorite of mine, and I think a powerful witness to the truth that we as Christians are not called to be transformed by the world into its own image, but to transform the world through God’s work in us. God bless!

(From his 15th homily on the Gospel of St Matthew)

“You are the salt of the earth” (Matthew 5:13).

It is not for your own sake, he says, but for the world’s sake that the word is entrusted to you. I am not sending you only into two cities only or ten to twenty, not to a single nation, as I sent the prophets of old, but across land and sea, to the whole world. And that world is in a miserable state. For when he says: You are the salt of the earth, he is indicating that all mankind had lost its savour and had been corrupted by sin. Therefore, he requires of these men those virtues which are especially useful and even necessary if they are to bear the burdens of many. For the man who is kindly, modest, merciful and just will not keep his good works to himself but will see to it that these admirable fountains send out their streams for the good of others. Again, the man who is clean of heart, a peacemaker and ardent for truth will order his life so as to contribute to the common good.
  Do not think, he says, that you are destined for easy struggles or unimportant tasks. You are the salt of the earth. What do these words imply? Did the disciples restore what had already turned rotten? Not at all. Salt cannot help what is already corrupted. That is not what they did. But what had first been renewed and freed from corruption and then turned over to them, they salted and preserved in the newness the Lord had bestowed. It took the power of Christ to free men from the corruption caused by sin; it was the task of the apostles through strenuous labour to keep that corruption from returning.
  Have you noticed how, bit by bit, Christ shows them to be superior to the prophets? He says they are to be teachers not simply for Palestine but for the whole world. Do not be surprised, then, he says, that I address you apart from the others and involve you in such a dangerous enterprise. Consider the numerous and extensive cities, peoples and nations I will be sending you to govern. For this reason I would have you make others prudent, as well as being prudent yourselves. For unless you can do that, you will not be able to sustain even yourselves.
  If others lose their savour, then your ministry will help them regain it. But if you yourselves suffer that loss, you will drag others down with you. Therefore, the greater the undertakings put into your hands, the more zealous you must be. For this reason he says: But if the salt becomes tasteless, how can its flavour be restored? It is good for nothing now, but to be thrown out and trampled by men’s feet.
  When they hear the words: When they curse you and persecute you and accuse you of every evil, They may be afraid to come forward. Therefore he says: “Unless you are prepared for that sort of thing, it is in vain that I have chosen you. Curses shall necessarily be your lot but they shall not harm you and will simply be a testimony to your constancy. If through fear, however, you fail to show the forcefulness your mission demands, your lot will be much worse, for all will speak evil of you and despise you. That is what being trampled by men’s feet means.”
  Then he passes on to a more exalted comparison: You are the light of the world. Once again, “of the world”: not of one nation or twenty cities, but of the whole world. The light he means is an intelligible light, far superior to the rays of the sun we see, just as the salt is a spiritual salt. First salt, then light, so that you may learn how profitable sharp words may be and how useful serious doctrine. Such teaching holds in check and prevents dissipation; it leads to virtue and sharpens the mind’s eye. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden; nor do men light a lamp and put it under a basket. Here again he is urging them to a careful manner of life and teaching them to be watchful, for they live under the eyes of all and have the whole world for the arena of their struggles.

 

Do Catholics worship Mary?

One of the classic questions for Catholics (especially from other Christians) is whether we worship Mary. Sometimes it is even phrased *why* we worship Mary, as if the issue isn’t even in question! This is a major obstacle for some people with accepting the Catholic Church.

We actually agree that worshipping Mary as a god would be a big problem! Mary is not God, and treating her as if she were is clearly against the Ten Commandments. Instead, Catholics venerate her. We see “veneration” as something that is proper to a human being, while worship (adoration) is the level of respect that is reserved for God alone. Catholics see Mary as a model and a mother. She is a model of the Christian response to God. When Gabriel appears to announce that she will conceive the Son of God she accepts the mission bravely. She follows her son closely even to the foot of the Cross, and is in prayer with the apostles as they wait for the gift of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.

Mary, though, is also a mother. At Cana (John 2) she intercedes with her son for the needs of the wedding couple, and at her request Jesus works his first public miracle. At the foot of the Cross Jesus directly calls her a mother to St John—his last teaching before giving up his spirit. Catholics believe that the saints in heaven are not disconnected from those on earth, but can still pray for them and their needs (we call this the “communion of saints”). In that sense, we don’t consider praying to the saints essentially different from asking someone on earth to pray for us. When we “pray to Mary” (or another saint), we aren’t praying to them in the sense of asking them to answer our request by their own power. Instead, we are asking them to pray with us to God for our need. We can of course go straight to Jesus by ourselves, but Jesus himself taught his disciples to pray together and for one another (eg Matthew 18:19-20). Jesus even was seen speaking with Moses and Elijah (Old Testament “saints”) at the Transfiguration! Devotion to the saints is a logical continuation of this with those who live with the Lord.

A final question is about representing Mary (or other saints) by a statue or image. Does this violate the prohibition against graven images? First, even in the Old Testament, God commanded the Israelites to form images of angels for the Ark of the Covenant or Temple. But, most importantly, the incarnation of Christ as God-made-flesh changes the relationship of the earthly to the divine. God has cast his own image in this world, and the veil of the Temple has been torn open. Therefore, we believe that images do not violate the commandment against idolatry. We see them reminders of a person that is alive with God rather than worshiping the image itself as if it were a god.

To return to the original question, while some may take it for granted that Catholics worship Mary/statues/etc, most Catholics would be baffled by this suggestion! I myself was very surprised the first time I encountered this question. The Catholic veneration of Mary isn’t set in contrast to the worship of God, but an aspect of praising him. All of the graces that Mary has received come from God. We believe that God rejoices to include us as co-workers with him (1 Corinthians 3:9). If I praised the beauty of the Mona Lisa no one would object that I should be praising Leonardo da Vinci directly—it’s understood that the two go together! The same goes with God and the saints.

At their root, many of the questions can be answered by simply clarifying what we mean by some of our terms. A lot of times misunderstandings dominate the conversation. At times our language or imagery doesn’t seem to reflect all of these distinctions, even if we have them in the back of our minds. But, in my own life, I have found my devotion to the saints (and Mary in particular) to have brought me closer to God and made me a better Christian. Rather than viewing the saints with suspicion or fear let us see them as powerful friends on our road to God. We are “surrounded by a crowd of witnesses” (Hebrews 12:1), and that can only help!

What’s the deal with all the JRR Tolkien stuff?

I thought I’d take a break from my more serious posts, and answer a question that may be in some minds after seeing my blog: why is JRR Tolkien featured so prominently??

Like most people my appreciation for him started with the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I started reading them in 5th grade and became hooked. It is one of the only series that I have read multiple times, and at one point in junior high I read the Hobbit in its entirety to my younger brothers so that they wouldn’t miss out!

However, at this point in my life I would say that the Lord of the Rings is no longer my *primary* reason for having such a high appreciation of Tolkien (although I still enjoy those books very much!). What really appeals to me is his life, philosophy, and faith. I started to get to know him by reading the collection of his writing called “Tree and Leaf,” and by reading the biography written of him by Joseph Pearce (Man and Myth). “Secret Fire” (by Stratford Caldecott) and “Tolkien’s Sanctifying Myth” (by Bradley Birzer) are two other great works on his life and writing. Probably the most powerful appreciation, though, came from reading Tolkien’s collected letters. The letters do contain a lot of interesting trivia about Middle Earth, but much beyond that. They include many letters of advice to his children or reflections to his friends. Between all of these sources I began to get a better glimpse at the man behind the stories.

His life itself was surprising to me—not your stereotypical path to professorship at Oxford University. Tolkien was born in South Africa to a British family that had traveled there for business. When he was three his mother brought him back to England for a vacation, and while they were gone his father passed away of rheumatic fever. His mother remained in England with her relatives to raise her children, but was cut off by her family when she became a Catholic. She worked hard (and to the detriment of her health) to support the children all alone as a single mother in the early 1900s, and passed away herself when Tolkien was 12. Without family to turn to, his mother had made arrangements for his guardianship to pass to one of the priests of their church, the Birmingham Oratory (side note: this was founded by Cardinal Newman- of “Newman Centers” fame- and was part of the religious order founded by one of my favorite saints, Philip Neri!). Despite the difficulties, Tolkien flourished at the Oratory, developed a deep faith, and found good soil for his intellectual gifts to blossom. He fought in the First World War (experiencing the horrors of trench warfare), and later (on account of his excellent education) was able to become a professor of Anglo-Saxon at Oxford.

His writings show the depth of his faith throughout his life. In one of his letters he wrote, “Out of the darkness of my life, so much frustrated, I put before you the one great thing to love on earth: the Blessed Sacrament … There you will find romance, glory, honour, fidelity, and the true way of all your loves upon earth … which every man’s heart desires.”  He gave profound reflections on human love and marriage. He discussed the interplay of power, violence, virtue, and humility (all themes powerfully contained in his work on Lord of the Rings). In the Silmarillion he gives a beautiful image of the work of Creation, along with an insight into the advent of evil.

These themes appear in his writings, but indirectly. He opposed an excessively allegorical approach and tried to include these themes through rich symbolism. For example, Frodo (the central hobbit of the Lord of the Rings) isn’t supposed to be an exact image of Jesus, although at times he reflects him (e.g., carrying of the Ring and the carrying of the Cross). Tolkien believed that in this way myth portrayed truth. As he explained in another letter, “I believe that legends and myths are largely made of ‘truth,’ and indeed present aspects of it that can only be received in this mode; and long ago certain truths and modes of this kind were discovered and must always reappear.” While we may limit “truth” merely to quantifiable data, Tolkien saw deeper aspects of truth that couldn’t be quantified. Instead, they could be contained in story and conveyed through the generations. It was this insight that played the critical role in CS Lewis coming to faith, and I think is what gives his Lord of the Rings such enduring value.

I’ll stop there. Suffice it to say, Tolkien has had a large impact on me! In faith and philosophy I find in him a kindred spirit. If you have any interest in knowing more, I recommend that you take up one of those books I mentioned above. God bless!

Why believe in God? Part III: Faith and Science

In a previous post I mentioned that Thomas Aquinas listed two major objections to the existence of God: the problem of evil and materialism. I addressed the problem of evil in Part II, and here want to say a few words about materialism—the objection that everything can be explained from physical properties alone. Spiritual realities are irrelevant. I think a more modern way to describe this problem is the question of “faith vs. science.” Which should we follow?

The phrasing of the question shows that people often see these as contradictory concepts. For many, “faith” means blindly trusting in something without real evidence, and “science” means relying on things that we can actually prove are true. This is not how we as Catholics understand faith. Faith is trusting in the word of another, while science (in the modern sense of the term) means a methodological study based on empirical observation and experimentation. While these are different, they are not contradictory. Both are ways to approach the truth. For example, we generally first come to know that the earth is round by faith in the word of another, and later are able to understand the proofs ourselves. In the physical sciences we can generally go back and work through the proofs that have come before us, but often it likewise relies on faith in the work that others have done. Progress is possible because we “stand on the shoulders of giants.” They are two paths to the same destination, and both are concerned with evidence and truth.

The main question, then, is what happens when the answers given by faith and science disagree? Maybe the most notorious case is that of Galileo and the discussion of heliocentrism. What does it mean if we discover by science that the earth orbits the Sun, while the traditionally people have considered the Bible to teach that the Earth is the center of the universe? I may devote an entire post to the Galileo case, but the short answer is that the popular version of the case is often historically inaccurate. The issue wasn’t so much his teaching as his presentation. The Church was open to science as granting a deeper understanding of the Scriptures. Cardinal Bellarmine (assigned to investigate Galileo) wrote: “If there were a true demonstration that the sun is at the center of the world and the earth in the third heaven, and that the sun does not circle the earth but the earth circles the sun, then one would have to proceed with great care in explaining the Scriptures that appear contrary, and say rather that we do not understand them than that what is demonstrated [by science] is false. But this is not a thing to be done in haste, and as for myself I shall not believe that there are such proofs until they are shown to me.” In other words, his problem wasn’t with the possibility of contradicting the traditional understanding of the Scriptures, but that he believed Galileo was rushing forward by proclaiming something that didn’t yet have sufficient data to support it—hardly an “anti-scientific” objection! Bellarmine believed that, if proven correct, Galileo’s theory would actually aid in Biblical studies by helping to distinguish what is literal from what is figurative. Even today, like the Bible, we often speak of “sunrise” and “sunset,” without meaning to make geocentric claims! There is more to be said about the case, but even here we see an example of how faith and science can work together.

I would also like to respond to the challenge that faith is “blind,” and requires us to hold something without any proof. In fact, this challenge begs the question—what counts as “proof?” If we define it as “empirical scientific study,” then of course it will be limited to scientific study! Spiritual realities (God, souls, angels, grace, etc) by definition are things that are not made up of matter, and so can’t be detected by the use of microscopes, telescopes, etc. God is not a part of the world, but the creator of the world. You shouldn’t expect to find the architect of the house by rigorously examining all of the parts of the house. Likewise, the physical sciences can’t directly prove or disprove the existence of God. A popular response to this was to say that, if we can’t disprove the existence of God, we might as well believe in a “flying spaghetti monster!” However, we believe that there is evidence for our belief, even if not a scientific proof (remember, at this point I am only talking about the existence of God, not any particular revelation or faith group). We see an abundance of claims to encounters with the divine, and especially miracles. People have claimed to encounter effects without physical causes, which indicates the existence of spiritual realities (to my knowledge, none of these have been testimonies to a flying spaghetti monster!). Certainly some of these claims have been false, but materialism/atheism would require every single one of them to be false. The topic of miracles deserves its own post. Suffice it to say, scientific investigation does not clear up all of the claims. This evidence isn’t a strict proof, although gives reasons for belief. Faith is not a claim made contrary to evidence, but on account of evidence that has been encountered in a different manner.

As always, much more could be said. In conclusion though, I’d like to use the image of Pope John Paul II, who described faith and reason as the “two wings” of our flight towards God. The problem arises when one of the two wings is clipped. If we cut off the wing of human reason, then our faith loses an important clarifying light. If we cut off the wing of divine faith, our reason becomes closed in on itself. We lose insight into the deeper questions. The physical sciences help us to understand better *how* creation came about, but faith provides insight into *why* something exists rather than nothing. Faith and science do not exist in completely separate categories, and so at times will come into apparent conflict. However, the Church believes that, in the end, “if it’s true, it’s true!” (to quote my old teacher, Fr Fabian). Faith and science do not need to be seen as enemies. The sense of conflict comes from a simplistic understanding of the two concepts. One can love both faith and science (such as Fr Georges Lamaitre, the Catholic priest who proposed the Big Bang theory). If God is truth, then we are a friend of the truth wherever we find it.