When You *Don’t* Have to Say Something in Confession

Confessional

Properly catechized Catholics know that, when we have committed mortal sins, we are obliged to confess them, how many times we committed them, and any circumstances that affect the moral species of the act (e.g., stealing from a church is different than ordinary stealing because of the element of sacrilege is involved, ditto for lying after having taken an oath before God as opposed to ordinary lying, adultery vs. fornication, etc. Note that these distinctions all involve the kind of sin being committed, not the degree of sinfulness; the Church has not required that we confess circumstances that affect the degree of sinfulness, only the kind).

Often times it is difficult for one reason or another to make this kind of confession, and if you read older moral and pastoral theology manuals they offer extensive discussions of the situations in which penitents are excused from making this type of confession.

Recently I received an email inquiry about how this fact relates to the 1983 Code of Canon Law’s statement that:

Can.  960 Individual and integral confession and absolution constitute the only ordinary means by which a member of the faithful conscious of grave sin is reconciled with God and the Church. Only physical or moral impossibility excuses from confession of this type; in such a case reconciliation can be obtained by other means.

Individual confession and absolution is the kind of sacramental confession we normally make: One person (an individual) talking to a priest, who absolves him. This is opposed, for example, to a priest offering a general absolution to a bunch of people at once in a grave circumstance (e.g., they’re all in an airplane that is about to crash and there is no time for individual confession). This latter is allowed in rare and grave circumstances. By nature it is an extraordinary situation, as opposed to individual confession and absolution being the “only ordinary means” of reconciliation.

The term “integral” confession is less familiar. What “integral” means is “complete.” In other words, the kind of confession we talked about at the top of the post, where for all your mortal sins, you say what each sin was, how many times it was committed, and anything that affected the species or kind of sin it was.

Why my correspondent was wondering was—since Canon 960 says that “only physical or moral impossibility excuses from confession of this type,” does the 1983 Code of Canon Law override all of the treatments given in older works of moral and pastoral theology about when one is excused from integral or “complete” confession.

The basic answer is no. The 1983 Code is not trying to change prior Catholic practice on this point. It had been the common teaching of Catholic theologians long before the 1983 Code that only physical or moral impossibility excused from making an integral confession. The Code is recognizing and incorporating this common teaching and thus giving canonical expression to what was already the traditional view. It thus does not override prior moral and pastoral thought on when one is excused from an integral confession. Whatever the older manuals said about this subject, to the extent it was sound then, is sound now. The 1983 Code didn’t change anything.

Of course, readers will wonder what some of these principles were, so let’s talk about that (which will allow me to answer some related queries sent by my correspondent).

The first concept we need to mention is physical impossibility. What’s that? Pretty much what it says. If, for example, you are in a crashing plane and there is no time to make a complete confession, you’re excused from doing so and can be absolved anyway. If you’ve had a stroke and are unable to communicate, you are similarly excused on grounds of physical impossibility.

What about moral impossibility? This category is meant to cover situations where it is physically possible to make an integral confession but there is some other factor that makes it very difficult to do so. Where the precise line on the next obvious question—“Just how difficult are we talking about?”—is a question that requires a judgment call, and it is here that the old moral/pastoral theology manuals play a useful role. This is exactly the kind of question they explore, using examples and principles to sketch out the answer.

For example, to take a very common example, let’s suppose you have forgotten how many times you committed a particular sin. Theoretically, you might be able to think harder and longer on the question and maybe come up with the exact number, but maybe that wouldn’t happen. Maybe you’d never get the exact number—or know with confidence that you had gotten it—and waiting to go to confession in that case would deprive you of the grace of the sacrament indefinitely, which is itself a grave thing. It could also send you tumbling off into the pits of scrupulosity—also a grave thing. Consequently, sound moral and pastoral theologians down through the ages have judged that one should only make reasonable efforts to determine the number of times one has committed a sin. If you’ve made a reasonable effort (i.e., what a normal faithful Catholic, not a living saint, would do) and can’t name the exact number, you are excused from doing so. You should, to the extent possible say things like, “I did this at least once” or “I did it a few times” or “I did it a lot of times,” but you are not bound to name any specific number.

Another situation—again very common—that excuses from an integral confession is scrupulosity. People suffering from this condition often get in destructive patterns of confession where they repeatedly confess sins over and over, go into agonizing and unnecessary amounts of detail, confess numerous sins of a venial nature because they can’t tell whether they were mortal, etc. Sound confessors have, down through the ages, developed rules for helping penitents fight such scrupulosity, such as telling (or even ordering) the penitent not to confess a sin unless he is absolutely sure it was mortal and that it was committed since the penitent’s last confession. If there is doubt about either of these points, the penitent should not confess it. (Note: This is the opposite of the advice given to people who don’t have scrupulosity, in which case a “confess it just to be safe” rule applies; it is the condition of scrupulosity that makes the difference in what is appropriate for the penitent to do).

Another common example—closely linked with scrupulosity—is obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). Sufferers of this condition have painful and distressing thoughts, and the more they dwell on these thoughts, the worse they become. They need, to the best of their ability, to ignore them, relax, and move on. Thus if a penitent with OCD (or anyone, for that matter) is having compulsive sexual thoughts or disturbing religious thoughts or similar things and if confessing them would tend to stir up these thoughts, it is very easy to justify a non-integral confession regarding them. First, if they are compulsive then the person is not fully consenting to them and they are not moral. Even if the person has consented to them, if mentioning the details in confession would stir them up then the penitent should not go into detail. If he can get away with saying, “I’ve had impure thought” or “I’ve had bad thoughts” with out stirring them up then he should do that, but in principle even that can be omitted if the danger of stirring them up is significant enough.
rom an integral confession. If the tendencies are strong then there may well be.

For people who have conditions like this, I recommend that they discuss the matter with their priest or spiritual director and ask the question directly, “Should I confess this kind of material.” That way, if they are later confessing to a new or unfamiliar priest and he says, “What kind of bad thoughts are you talking about?” they can reply, “I have scrupulosity/OCD and my priest/spiritual director has told me not to go into detail on this because it will only stir up the thoughts.” That will satisfy almost any confessor (actually, it will satisfy any confessor who is exercising sound judgment).

My correspondent asked about the situation of a penitent with “tendencies toward scrupulosity” but not full-blown scruples or OCD. Here there is a judgment call that must be made by the penitent and his confessor or spiritual director. If the tendencies are only mild then there may not be an excuse from integral confession. If the tendencies are strong then the penitent may well be excused.

Of course, the penitent should always maintain the attitude that he would confess the sins, with number and species-changing circumstance, if there wasn’t a situation preventing this (e.g., if I remembered, if it wouldn’t stir up these thoughts). If he has the attitude that he willfully would not confess a particular mortal sin no matter what then he is deliberately withholding something from confession that must be confessed. That would invalidate the sacrament. But as long as he has the will to confess everything he is supposed to then the confession will be valid, even though there are reasons that excuse him from confessing certain things.

There is a lot more that can be said on this subject. Indeed, there are whole chapters in the older moral and pastoral theology manuals. But I hope this much brings comfort to those who find themselves in such situations.

Olivia. In the Lab. With the Pyrokinesis.

OliveIncidentHere's a little Fringe speculation. For those who have not seen any of Season 3, waiting for it to come out on DVD/BlueRay, don't worry. This post won't spoil anything. It's just my putting together a few pieces from Seasons 1 and 2 and guessing at something that may be revealed at some point in the future.

So here goes . . . 

When we first meet Walter Bishop in the Pilot, he has been institutionalized since 1991. Olivia Dunham explains:

An assistant was killed in his lab. Rumors about Dr. Bishop using humans as guinea pigs. He was charged with manslaughter, but was deemed mentally unfit to stand trial.

We later learn more about both the charges Olivia mentions, the assistant who was killed in the lab and the experiments on humans.

In episode 1.12, The No-Brainer (the one where hands come out of computer screens and grab people's heads) a woman named Jessica Warren starts trying to see Walter. She first approaches Peter, who turns her away. After which Olivia says:

I think I know who that woman was… outside.

PETER: What do you think you know?

OLIVIA: That she's the mother of the lab assistant… that was killed in the fire here almost twenty years ago. It's none of my business.

When Jessica Warren finally gets to meet Walter, we learn:

My daughter's name was Carla Warren.

WALTER: Oh,dear.

JESSICA WARREN: Do you remember her?

WALTER: Yes.

JESSICA WARREN: I want to see you because… you were the last person to see my daughter alive, and…I've always wanted to ask… Was there anything else I could know? Anything,anything else…you could tell me about my daughter.

WALTER: She was… a wonderful girl. What I remember… is her smile. She had a wonderful smile.

WALTER: I miss Carla.

JESSICA WARREN: Me,too. I miss her.

(Walter embraces Jessica Warren.)

Okay, so the assistant's name was Carla Warren and she died in a fire in the lab and Walter was there when it happened (something we could probably have inferred from his being charged with manslaughter, anyway).

Now about fires in labs on Fringe.

In episode 1.17, Bad Dreams (the one where Olivia meets a fellow Cortexiphan kid who mentally forces people to stand along the edge of a building's roof with him, with the threat of making them jump), we get the following exchange:

WALTER: Where’s the fire? I always loved that expression, which is curious, since my lab assistant was killed in a fire.

OLIVIA: What can you tell me about Cortexiphan?

WALTER: Oh, that takes me back. I remember 'Belly' whipping up a peyote mash–

OLIVIA: Walter!

WALTER: Cortexiphan was a highly experimental drug. William theorized that it might enhance certain abilities in predisposed children.

PETER: Let me guess– you experimented on people.

WALTER: Oh, no, no. not me. William. We had quite a disagreement about it.

OLIVIA: What abilities?

WALTER: It worked on perception. Carlos Castaneda, Aldus Huxley, Werner Heisenberg, all focused on one single elementary truth. Perception is the key to transformation.

PETER: Reality is both subjective and malleable. If you can dream a better world, you can make a better world.

WALTER: Or perhaps travel between them.

PETER: What did you just say?

OLIVIA: So if Nick Lane was treated with Cortexiphan, he could change reality with his thoughts. He could make somebody do something just by thinking it.

WALTER: Not his thoughts. It’s how you feel that determines your view of the world.

OLIVIA: You’re saying that Cortexiphan worked on feelings.

WALTER: That’s reductive, but essentially, yes.

Olivia then figures out that she also was subjected to a Cortexiphan trial. At the end of the episode:

(rummaging through a storage box, Walter finds some old cassette tapes and starts watching one. haunted by what he sees and hears – a small blonde child sits huddled on the floor while voices dialogue from off the screen)

WILLIAM BELL: Is the incident contained?

FEMALE VOICE: Yes, Doctor Bell.

WILLIAM BELL: How bad?

FEMALE VOICE: Bad.

WILLIAM BELL: Casualties?

FEMALE VOICE: Not sure yet. We can't locate Brenner.

WILLIAM BELL: Is SHE okay?

FEMALE VOICE: SHE is fine.

WILLIAM BELL: Hell, do we know what triggered it?

WALTER: Obviously she was upset, William. (to the child) It's okay. It's alright now. Nobody is angry with you. You didn't do anything bad. It's alright Olive… everythings going to be okay.

(Walter sits silently, alone in the dark lab and stares at the screen)

The transcript doesn't say it, but Olive (Olivia) is huddled in a small, unburned corner of a room which has apparently been subjected to intense fire as part of the "incident" William Bell refers to.

This is confirmed in episode 2.15, Jacksonville (the one where Olivia revisits the day care center where she was experimented upon), where Olivia gets to watch the same video tape and recognizes herself:

OLIVIA: That's me. What happened?

WALTER: This was the first time you saw the other side. You were frightened. Started a fire with your mind. It should have worked. This is the very sort of thing that William and I were preparing for.

Olivia also indicates that she has no memory of the Jacksonville experiments:

I have a freakishly good memory. I remember everything. But not this. There's just nothing that's familiar.

PETER: Maybe that's a good thing.

And earlier in the ep, Walter also commented on her not remembering her Cortexiphan-produced abilities:

OLIVIA: Walter, when did I see things from the other side?

WALTER: Twenty-six years ago when you were a little girl. The Cortexiphan Trials. As I've said, the drug worked on perception. Of the thirty children that William Bell and I experimented on, you were the first with the ability to identify things from the other side. We gave you the ability.

PETER: Walter, you were conducting illegal drug trials on children. Don't make that sound like charity work.

OLIVIA: Was it me who described it as a glimmer? Well, I can't see it anymore.

WALTER: Because I believe you stopped wanting to. When you did, there were consequences, but I was able to elicit the ability once. I believe I may be able to do it again.

So Walter's lab assistant, Carla Warren, died in 1991 in a laboratory fire and Walter was there.

Olivia, who would have been around 12 in 1991, was given Cortexiphan as a child and, among other things, occasionally started fires with her mind (pyrokinesis) when frightened or upset. However, there were "consequences" to her use of the Coretexiphan abilities, and she decided she didn't want them any more–and today has no memory of the experiments.

What's the dramatically obvious way to connect these facts up?

The very next episode, 2.16, Peter, is the one in which we get a flashback to 1985, when Peter was a boy–and we get to meet Carla Warren for the first time, six years before her death in the lab fire.

My guess is that, at some point in the future, we will have a flashback episode to 1991, when Olive is 12, and the experiments have been relocated from Jacksonville, Florida to Harvard, where the lab fire occurred.

Something momentous will be at stake (very possibly with Observer involvement). Walter and Olive and Carla will be in the lab. Something horrible will happen, pushing Olive over the edge and triggering her pyrokinetic abilities. Carla (who was likely trying to stop Walter from doing something, possibly to Olive) will die. 

Olivia and Walter live, but both will be shattered. Olive will either repress all memory of the Cortexiphan trials or someone (possibly William Bell) will cause them to go dormant.

Walter will have either just had William Bell perform the operation to remove bits from his brain or he will have it immediately after this event, as it is what frightened him of what he was becoming.

In any event, the aftermath of the event will find him mentally and emotionally shattered and he will be committed to St. Claire's for the next 17 years.

Until Olivia Dunhman walks into St. Claire's and recruits him to help solve the case in the Pilot episode.

Now, there are other ways this could work. Other Cortexiphan kids have been shown to have pyrokinesis, but c'mon! This is the obvious, dramatically satisfying way to do it.

How did Carla Warren die?

My money is that it was Olivia. In the lab. With the pyrokinesis.

POPE: Don’t Evangelize Jews! Really?

Pope-benedict-xvi-0317

Pope Benedict’s remarks concerning Jewish individuals in his recent book Jesus of Nazareth (vol. 2) (GET IT HERE! GET IT HERE!) have attracted considerable attention.

For example, the book contains a passage which some have interpreted as saying that the Church should not seek to convert Jewish individuals. It is not at all clear to me that this is what the Pope is saying. The passage is complex and bears more than one interpretation. So let’s dive in and see what we can make of it.

The beginning of the discussion (which is not usually quoted by people commenting on the text) is this. Starting on p. 44 of the book, Pope Benedict writes:

At this point we encounter once again the connection between the Gospel tradition and the basic elements of Pauline theology. If Jesus says in the eschatological discourse that the Gospel must first be proclaimed to the Gentiles and only then can the end come, we find exactly the same thing in Paul’s Letter to the Romans: “A hardening has come upon part of Israel, until the full number of the Gentiles come in, and so all Israel will be saved” (11:25–26).

The full number of the Gentiles and all Israel: In this formula we see the universalism of the divine salvific will. For our purposes, though, the important point is that Paul, too, recognizes an age of the Gentiles, which is the present and which must be fulfilled if God’s plan is to attain its goal.

So Pope Benedict is contemplating the two-stages of phases of history that precede the end of the world. First, there are what Our Lord refers to as “the times of the gentiles,” in which the Gospel is preached to all nations and the gentiles are given the chance to convert, and then the second stage in which the partial hardness that has come upon Israel is removed and so “all Israel will be saved”—a reference to a corporate conversion of the Jewish people at the end of history.

Note how this viewpoint differs from two rival viewpoints: First, it differs from the “Jews don’t need Jesus, they have their own covenant” perspective. This idea, which has been trendy is some Catholic circles of late, is manifestly contrary to the teaching of the New Testament and to the historic teaching of the Church’s Magisterium. It also is not what Pope Benedict is advocating here. He is not saying that Jews don’t need Jesus or that they don’t need to become Christians. He is saying that they will corporately convert to Christ, but not until the end of time. Prior to that point, individual Jews may become Christians—as with the apostles and the very first Christians and with other converts from Judaism down through history. But the full, corporate conversion of Israel (which even then might not involve every single individual without exception) is something to be found only at the end of the world.

Secondly, the viewpoint that the Pope is articulating is different than the “Jews don’t matter anymore; they don’t have any special relationship with God or mission; their role has been completely supplanted by the Church and they have no further special significance.” Again, this position is contrary to the New Testament, which ascribes an ongoing special place for the Jewish people in God’s plan (as illustrated by the end of the world being contingent on their corporate conversion), and it is not the viewpoint that Pope Benedict is articulating. He recognizes, as we will see him say even more explicitly in a moment, that the Jewish people has a special and ongoing mission.

He then speaks of the early Church’s attitude toward this two-phase understanding of Christian history (the preaching of the Gospel to the gentiles, followed by the corporate conversion of Israel):

The fact that the early Church was unable to assess the chronological duration of these kairoí (“times”) of the Gentiles and that it was generally assumed they would be fairly short is ultimately a secondary consideration.

The essential point is that these times were both asserted and foretold and that, above all else and prior to any calculation of their duration, they had to be understood and were understood by the disciples in terms of a mission: to accomplish now what had been proclaimed and demanded — by bringing the Gospel to all peoples.

The restlessness with which Paul journeyed to the nations, so as to bring the message to all and, if possible, to fulfill the mission within his own lifetime — this restlessness can only be explained if one is aware of the historical and eschatological significance of his exclamation: “Necessity is laid upon me. Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel!” (1 Cor 9:16).

In this sense, the urgency of evangelization in the apostolic era was predicated not so much on the necessity for each individual to acquire knowledge of the Gospel in order to attain salvation, but rather on this grand conception of history: If the world was to arrive at its destiny, the Gospel had to be brought to all nations. At many stages in history, this sense of urgency has been markedly attenuated, but it has always revived, generating new dynamism for evangelization.

What the Pope says in the last paragraph is quite interesting. The idea that individuals in the apostolic age were motivated to evangelize “not so much on the necessity for each individual to acquire knowledge of the Gospel in order to attain salvation, but rather on this grand conception of history,” is quite interesting.

It is certainly true that the early evangelists, including Paul, were motivated by the fact that Christ had indicated the Gospel must be preached to all the nations and that this plays a role in God’s plan of the ages. If it’s part of God’s plan and Christ said to do it, that’s reason to get to work evangelizing! And the first evangelists certainly understood that.

It’s questionable, however, how much they also saw “the necessity for each individual to acquire knowledge of the Gospel in order to attain salvation” as playing a role. Certainly later in Church history the theological tides shifted very strongly in favor of the idea that concrete knowledge (and acceptance) of the Gospel is necessary for salvation. In our own day the tides have shifted back a bit, with the Magisterium indicating (especially from the mid 20th century onwards) that an explicit knowledge of the Gospel is not an absolute necessity and that people can, if they otherwise cooperate with God’s grace, come to salvation if they are in innocent ignorance of the Gospel.

Similar themes are found in the writings of the Church Fathers, who hold that some gentiles prior to the time of Christ could be saved if they lived according to the Logos or “Reason” of God, though they lacked knowledge of his word in the Scriptures.

In the apostolic age, it would be fair to assume that something of this idea was present as well. In the early chapters of Romans, Paul alludes to some gentiles potentially being excused by their consciences on the day of judgment because they followed the law of God written on their hearts, even though they didn’t have knowledge of the Mosaic Law.

On the other hand, Paul also uses language that suggests knowledge and acceptance of the Gospel is quite important for salvation, saying that he preaches the Gospel so vigorously, in part, to provoke some of his Jewish brethren to envy of the grace God is working among the gentiles and thus, via their conversion, “save some of them” (i.e., Jews end up accepting the Gospel). On other occasions, he spoke of those who reject the Gospel as considering themselves “not worthy of salvation.”

Given the strong connection made between accepting the Gospel and salvation in the New Testament, it is hard to simply set aside the salvation motive as a significant part of the impetus toward preaching the Gospel in the first century.

I don’t know that the Pope is doing that. In the English translation, his language (“not so much”) suggests at least something of a downplaying of the salvation motive, but it does not rule it out altogether. (Also, this is precisely the kind of exegetical point on which he indicated people are free to contradict him. “How much did the salvation motive play a role in first century evangelization according to the New Testament?” is an exegetical question, not a dogmatic one.)

Now Pope Benedict takes up the question of Israel’s ongoing mission:

In this regard, the question of Israel’s mission has always been present in the background. We realize today with horror how many misunderstandings with grave consequences have weighed down our history. Yet a new reflection can acknowledge that the beginnings of a correct understanding have always been there, waiting to be rediscovered, however deep the shadows.

Here is something we need to note very carefully, because this is the hinge that takes us into the passage about evangelizing Jewish people. The subject at hand is not (certainly not primarily) the evangelization of Jews. It is the recognition of Israel’s unique role in history. Christians have, the Holy Father indicates, often failed to recognize that role and this has resulted in many horrific “misunderstandings with grave consequences [that] have weighted down our history.” Despite that, he indicates “the beginnings of a correct understanding” of Israel’s role “have always been there, waiting to be rediscovered, however deep in the shadows.”

Pope Benedict is thus about to cite an example designed to show how—even at a much different stage in Church history—there was nevertheless a shadowy, partial understanding of Israel’s unique role. That is the Pope’s primary point:

Here I should like to recall the advice given by Bernard of Clairvaux to his pupil Pope Eugene III on this matter. He reminds the Pope that his duty of care extends not only to Christians, but: “You also have obligations toward unbelievers, whether Jew, Greek, or Gentile” (De Consideratione III/1, 2). Then he immediately corrects himself and observes more accurately: “Granted, with regard to the Jews, time excuses you; for them a determined point in time has been fixed, which cannot be anticipated. The full number of the Gentiles must come in first. But what do you say about these Gentiles? … Why did it seem good to the Fathers … to suspend the word of faith while unbelief was obdurate? Why do we suppose the word that runs swiftly stopped short?” (De Consideratione III/1, 3).

So Bernard of Clarivaux at one point alluded to the two-phase understanding of Christian history, with the set time of Israel’s conversion being confined to the unknowable future. This the Pope documents his major theme (it’s what started out this section, remember?) has been understood in Christian history, and thus there has been at least some recognition of Israel’s unique and ongoing mission, whatever crimes and misunderstandings concerning the Jewish people have also accompanied it.

St. Bernard also seems to suggest that Pope Eugene has an excuse not to evangelize Jews as vigorously as gentiles because their corporate conversion is still future, and Pope Benedict appears to give support to this view, saying that this observation of St. Bernard’s is more accurate than his initial summary. The Holy Father then cites Hildegard Brem (a German nun of our own day):

Hildegard Brem comments on this passage as follows: “In the light of Romans 11:25, the Church must not concern herself with the conversion of the Jews, since she must wait for the time fixed for this by God, ‘until the full number of the Gentiles come in’ (Rom 11:25). On the contrary, the Jews themselves are a living homily to which the Church must draw attention, since they call to mind the Lord’s suffering (cf. Ep 363) . . .” (quoted in Sämtliche Werke, ed. Winkler, I, p. 834).

This passage, at least as it is translated in English, contains the strongest statement in the entire passage concerning evangelizing Jews. What does it mean? Romans 11:25 is one of the base texts that undergirds the two-phrase conception of Christian history that the pope has been discussing. It is where St. Paul says:

Lest you be wise in your own conceits, I want you to understand this mystery, brethren: a hardening has come upon part of Israel, until the full number of the Gentiles come in.

In light of this, what does it mean to say that “the Church must not concern herself with the conversion of the Jews”? It could mean any number of things.

I think it would be reasonable to say that the Church should not worry or be concerned or upset if the Jewish people do not corporately convert in our own age. It would also be reasonable to say on the basis of Romans 11:25 to say that the Church should not expect the corporate conversion of the Jewish people in an age prior to the end. If any of these are the kind of “concern” the Church shouldn’t have then the statement is quite reasonable.

On the other hand, if what is meant is that the Church should not share the Gospel with Jewish people prior to the end then the statement is highly problematic. One reason is that we won’t know when the end has arrived until it really does arrive. At any point prior to the Second Coming we could be facing a situation that looks like the end but really isn’t. If this is the criterion the Church would never share the Gospel with the Jewish people.

Further, this understanding would be flatly in contradiction with that of the apostles and other New Testament authors who were themselves evangelized Jews!

And it’s not as if acceptance of the Gospel has nothing to do with salvation. Even if we recognize the possibility of salvation for the innocently unaware, the Church has repeatedly stressed that this is no reason to slack off in our efforts to evangelize! What’s good for the Jew is good for the gentile in this regard, for we all deal with the same merciful God, and if his mercy to the innocently unaware is reason to slack off evangelizing Jews then it’s reason to slack off evangelizing gentiles, too. (Which we know not to be the case.)

It also rubs against the grain of St. Paul’s characterization of the Jewish people in Romans 11 as olive shoots from a cultivated olive tree, whereas gentile believers represent wild olive shoots that have been grafted on to the cultivated tree. The tree nevertheless remains a cultivated one, and St. Paul comments that on account of this Jewish people who embrace the faith will be all the more readily grated onto “their own tree.”

In this light, suggestions that the Church ought not to evangelize Jewish people have (rightly) provoked comments from Jewish Christians like, “How dare you suggest that the fullness of my own faith not be shared with me! How dare you suggest that I as a Jew shouldn’t be taught about my own Messiah and all of his teachings! Your proposal would effectively disinherit me from the fullness of my own heritage!”

Most fundamentally, though, any suggestion that the Church should not evangelize Jewish people because of the hardness that has come upon Israel would contradict Romans 11:25 itself. It doesn’t say that Israel has become completely hard. It says that a hardness has come upon it “in part.” But only in part. Thus St. Paul makes the point that God has not rejected the Jewish people and that he himself is a Jew. The fact that Israel has been hardened in part toward the Gospel does not change the fact that part of it has not been hardened and is receptive to the Gospel.

The Church thus has an obligation to preach the Gospel to all mankind, including the part of Israel that has not been hardened.

Any total non-proclamation-of-the-Gospel-to-Jewish-people view is thus a non-starter.

What about a middle position?

Could one say, “Well, we know that Israel is partly hardened and partly not, so we should put some efforts into evangelizing Jewish people but not apply as much of our efforts there as elsewhere, with nations that do not display this hardening in the present age?”

Economics is the study of the use of limited resources that have alternative uses, and since there are a limited amount of evangelistic resources at our disposal and since they could be used to evangelize other peoples, so evangelization is subject to the laws of economics as much as any other field. This means we must make choices about who to evangelize and when. We even see decisions of that nature being made in the New Testament itself, as when Paul has a dream of a man from Macedonia and turns to evangelize there rather than in Asia Minor. One could argue that the two-stages of Christian history as they have been revealed to us constitute a similar revelation with implications for where we should spend the bulk of our evangelistic resources.

But there are only a few million Jews in the world, and there are over a billion Catholics. We’re not going to save that much of our evangelistic energy by adopting a limited evangelization policy for the Jewish people.

There is also something repugnant about the idea of hindering Christ’s own people, as a matter of policy, from learning about him. Certainly this was contrary to St. Paul’s practice, which was to preach to the Jewish community first and then to the gentiles.

So there is considerable ambiguity on this point. I don’t know what Hildegard Brem meant. If she meant we must not evangelize Jewish people or that we should be unconcerned about that subject then I think she is wrong. If she means that we should adopt a policy of minimal evangelization toward them, I am quite uncomfortable with the proposal. If she means that we should make reasonable efforts at evangelization but not be concerned that these will not bear full fruit until the end then I am entirely in agreement.

I know that, in view of the history of anti-Semitism, many Europeans (even moreso than Americans) are quite uncomfortable with the idea of evangelizing Jewish individuals. This discomfort is all the more acutely felt among many in Germany, for whom the Holocaust can be a powerful source of guilt and shame, even if they were not personally involved and even if they personally resisted it. This may play a role in coloring some statements regarding the question of evangelizing Jewish people, and sometimes these statements can be poorly phrased. That could be playing a role here with Hildegard Brem’s. I don’t know. I don’t know her or her work (or what is said in the original German!) well enough to assess that.

But what about Pope Benedict’s use of her work here?

He seems to cite her to build on the previous remarks of St. Bernard concerning the Jews’ unique role in history. Presumably he views what Brem says as elaborating more fully the general theme established with the quotations from St. Bernard. That includes Brem’s ambiguous statement regarding the Church not needing to be “concerned” with “the conversion of the Jews” (not the same thing as the evangelization of the Jews). It also includes Brem’s statement that “the Jews themselves are a living homily to which the Church must draw attention, since they call to mind the Lord’s suffering.”

This statement would not be described as “politically correct” from an interfaith standpoint. Brem is speaking from a uniquely Christian standpoint that would not be shared by non-Christian Jews. She appears to mean that the Church should call attention to the Jewish people because of their special role in God’s plan of the ages. This makes them “a living homily” (what Isaiah called “a light to the nations”), and the sufferings they have endured through history call to mind the sufferings that Christ also endured. She thus seems to suggest a form of historical, mystical identification between the suffering nation of Israel and the suffering Messiah who is its eschatological head. Thus through the innocent sufferings of Israel—both the nation and its Messiah—God brings about his plan for the world.

Or maybe she means something else. The quote is brief, and we do not have much context.

However that may be, the statement that the Church should not be “concerned” with Israel’s “conversion,” coupled with her distinctly Christian take on Israel’s role in history, do not add up to anything like a clear statement that the Church should refrain from sharing the Gospel with Jewish people or even that it should limit it as a matter of deliberate policy.

A more sensible approach would be to say that we should preach the Gospel always, in and out of season, to all, including Our Lord’s own people, and leave the results up to God, knowing that the corporate conversion of Israel is something that will only happen at the end of time.

We also shouldn’t prejudge the idea that we are not at the end of time. We might be. We also might not be. The Catechism stresses that the Second Coming is unpredictable as to its time. If God wanted, it could happen with amazing suddenness (that would affect the interpretation of some prophecies, but the nature of prophecy is such that its correct interpretation is often only determinable in hindsight).

In view of the ambiguity of Brem’s statement, I think we need to be cautious in what we attribute to Pope Benedict.

I also think it is significant that he chose to quote her rather than speak in his own voice. One of the things characteristic of his writing is he often borrows what others have said when he wishes to propose an idea without imposing it. He knows that people will take what he says in his own voice as if he is speaking with papal authority even when, as in this book set, he has said everyone is free to contradict him and that it is not a matter of magisterial teaching.

So even if Brem is saying something more than what I think can reasonably be concluded from Romans 11:25, I think Pope Benedict is likely proposing it for consideration rather than imposing it as a matter of obligatory belief.

I also would cite to final pieces of evidence regarding Pope Benedict’s handling of this subject.

First, he drops the discussion of the conversion of Israel and what concern the Church should have for it. He concludes by returning to the general theme of the two-stage understanding of Christian history—the same theme he began with—and the fact that the gospel must first be preached to the nations. He concludes:

The prophecy of the time of the Gentiles and the corresponding mission is a core element of Jesus’ eschatological message. The special mission to evangelize the Gentiles, which Paul received from the risen Lord, is firmly anchored in the message given by Jesus to his disciples before his Passion. The time of the Gentiles — “the time of the Church” — which, as we have seen, is proclaimed in all the Gospels, constitutes an essential element of Jesus’ eschatological message.

Finally, this is the same pope who in 2008 re-wrote the Good Friday prayer for the Jewish people that is part of the extraordinary form of the Mass. That prayer, as he personally re-wrote it, reads:

Let us also pray for the Jews: That our God and Lord may illuminate their hearts, that they acknowledge Jesus Christ is the Savior of all men. (Let us pray. Kneel. Rise.) Almighty and eternal God, who want that all men be saved and come to the recognition of the truth, propitiously grant that even as the fullness of the peoples enters Thy Church, all Israel be saved. Through Christ Our Lord. Amen.

He wrote this knowing that it would not please many in the Jewish community, who would have preferred no prayer at all or at least a more muted one.

Whatever else may be the case, it does not seem to me that Pope Benedict is opposed to reasonable efforts to share the Gospel with Our Lord’s own people.

What do you think?

Dino Deaths & Original Sin

Tyrannosaurus-rex-skeleton-cg A reader writes:

I've got my brain in a crunch.  If death, disease, pain and suffering entered the world because of the first sin, then how would one best reconcile the deaths of all the Dinosaurs and other preceding animal throughout time up until the point that God first breathed life into Man and then Mankind committed the first sin?  I've been comfortable pointing to the first sin as the reason for all the death and pain in the world, but I stumped myself with this question.

The standard way of reconciling this would be to say that human death entered the world when our first parents committed original sin. 

In other words, God gave man access to the tree of life that would have enabled him to live forever. He didn't give access to it (so far as we know) to dinosaurs or, in fact, any other creatures besides mankind.

Thus when the fall occurs in Genesis 3, God drives Adam and Eve from the garden so that they won't have access to the tree of life and live forever. That suggests–though it does not prove–that the tree of life represented a special offer of immortality to mankind as long as they refrained from sin.

Why? Because it apparently didn't grow anywhere except in the garden. Otherwise, Adam and Eve could have simply eaten from a tree of life growing down the road somewhere, and there would be no point in expelling them.

This suggests that the tree of life was a unique offer to man as long as he remained in spiritual harmony with God, and when he sinned, the offer was lost.

Other species, presumably, never had the offer in the first place.

One note: The Church today would likely interpret the tree of life in a symbolic rather than literal fashion as that is what it does with the other tree–the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. According to the Catechism, 

How to read the account of the fall

390 The account of the fall in Genesis 3 uses figurative language, but affirms a primeval event, a deed that took place at the beginning of the history of man. Revelation gives us the certainty of faith that the whole of human history is marked by the original fault freely committed by our first parents.

396 God created man in his image and established him in his friendship. A spiritual creature, man can live this friendship only in free submission to God. the prohibition against eating "of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil" spells this out: "for in the day that you eat of it, you shall die." The "tree of the knowledge of good and evil" symbolically evokes the insurmountable limits that man, being a creature, must freely recognize and respect with trust. Man is dependent on his Creator, and subject to the laws of creation and to the moral norms that govern the use of freedom.

One is still free to interpret the two trees literally, but the common teaching of the Church, as expressed in the Catechism, would seem to take them symbolically, the one representing the opportunity for immortality in union with God and the other representing the moral limits that man must respect or fall out of harmony with God.

This moral probation was presumably unique to man, who is uniquely a moral agent in the terrestrial sphere.

Thus:

310 But why did God not create a world so perfect that no evil could exist in it? With infinite power God could always create something better. But with infinite wisdom and goodness God freely willed to create a world "in a state of journeying" towards its ultimate perfection. In God's plan this process of becoming involves the appearance of certain beings and the disappearance of others, the existence of the more perfect alongside the less perfect, both constructive and destructive forces of nature. With physical good there exists also physical evil as long as creation has not reached perfection.

Happy Meat-Eating Friday! (2011 Edition)

Hamburger-recipe A reader writes:

Mr. Akin,

You wrote last year about meat on the Solemnity of St. Joseph even though it was a feast day.

http://www.jimmyakin.org/2010/03/happy-meateating-friday.html

Would this apply to the Solemnity of the Annunciation this Friday, March 25?

Yes, it does. The Annunciation is a solemnity, according to the General Roman Calendar (I'm linking to Wikipedia rather than the official calendar for 2011 on the bishops' web site b/c the latter is in the evil pdf format, but it confirms the same thing).

And according to the Code of Canon Law, 

Can.  1251 Abstinence from meat, or from some other food as determined by the Episcopal Conference, is to be observed on all Fridays, unless a solemnity should fall on a Friday. Abstinence and fasting are to be observed on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday.

Therefore, have fun eating meat (if you want) this Friday!

Wishing It Isn’t So? Thoughts on the Fr. Corapi Situation

Fr_corapi

Like many bloggers, I’ve been getting requests for information on the situation with Father John Corapi. I don’t know him personally, and I don’t have any insider information, so that leaves me in the same position as everyone else: trying to figure out the situation based on the information that is available.

I’ve looked at the official statements that have come out so far, which Pat Archbold has been helpfully linking and quoting, and I’ve been reading commentary on the subject on the blogosphere and around the Internet.

I thought I would comment briefly based on what I’ve been reading.

I’ve seen several people say that they hope that the allegations made against Father Corapi aren’t true. I most definitely understand this reaction. It is entirely natural, upon hearing of something horrible, to hope that the report is not true, or at least not as bad as what is being reported. When I hear of a disaster somewhere in the world, with the death toll estimated at whatever figure the media is naming, I pray that it is lower than that and that fewer people have been harmed. Hopefully someone did some bad math and the truth is not as awful as thought.

In the case of one person making a set of allegations against another person, the situation is somewhat more complex. So far as I can tell, the allegations may arise from one of four things (or a combination of these things):

1) The allegations are due to a misunderstanding or misperception.
2) The allegations are due to a delusion (i.e., mental illness).
3) The allegations are due to a lie.
4) The allegations are true.

According to Father Corapi:

On Ash Wednesday I learned that a former employee sent a three-page letter to several bishops accusing me of everything from drug addiction to multiple sexual exploits with her and several other adult women.

The language Father Corapi uses is somewhat ambiguous. “Everything from” could mean that there were additional, unmentioned charges or it could be hyperbole and the two actual charges were drug addiction and “multiple sexual exploits.” If there were other charges, these have not yet been revealed and so it is impossible to comment on them.

The charge of drug addiction is one that could potentially fall under category No. 1 above. I could envision, for example, a scenario in which Father Corapi (who has had significant medical problems) might be on painkillers or muscle relaxants or other prescription medications and, entirely innocently, someone might misperceive this as drug addiction when, in fact, it’s not.

The charge of “multiple sexual exploits with her and several other adult women,” however, does not seem to be a good candidate for this category. If Father Corapi had used different language, this might have been otherwise. If he had simply said “improprieties” then that would leave the door open to claims of sexual harassment, and sexual harassment is the kind of thing that can be the subject of misperception, misunderstanding, etc. It is quite possible for things to be said between coworkers that are meant to be playful or joking or even just complimentary that nevertheless end up being taken as sexual advances or even sexual intimidation. But to say that the employee has charged Father Corapi with “multiple sexual exploits” suggests something far more concrete and far less subject to misunderstanding.

If this is so then these allegations would seem to fall into categories 2, 3 or 4.

In that case, what does hoping that they are not true amount to? Seemingly, it would amount to hoping that either 2 or 3 is true. That is, hoping that the woman making the allegations is delusional or that she is lying.

If she is delusional, then she would seem to be quite delusional — and, in fact, gravely mentally ill — if she believes wrongly that Father Corapi has had sexual “exploits” with her when in fact he has not. Further, her delusion is even projected onto other women, with whom she also falsely believes Father Corapi to have had such exploits.

If she is lying, then she would be sinning, and sinning in a particularly grave way because she would be accusing an innocent person of grave sin with multiple exacerbating circumstances (he’s a priest, he’s very well known, it’s a sexual sin, he’s religious and thus has taken a vow of chastity — not just made a promise of celibacy — and the Church has been reeling from sexual scandals in recent years). If she’s lying, she’s telling an abominably horrible lie that is gravely, gravely sinful.

Of course, things are also appallingly horrible if No. 4 is the case and the accusations are true. In that case, there is a very well-known priest who has taken a vow of chastity who has violated that vow multiple times with multiple women — with an unknown degree of their cooperation, and in abuse of his sacred office — at a time when the Church has been reeling from sexual scandals.

This makes hoping that the allegations aren’t true a little trickier.

It would seem straightforward to say that category No. 2 (mental illness) would involve less evil than category 3 (lying) or category 4 (veracity). Category No. 2 involves a non-moral evil, while categories 3 and 4 both involve grave moral evils, and grave moral evil is by nature worse than non-moral evils. Still, even if the mental illness theory is true, wishing this to be so still involves wishing a grave evil on someone.

One also might argue that the lying theory would involve less evil than the theory that the allegations are true — that it’s worse for a priest to do these things than to falsely accuse him of doing so. This is certainly arguable, though it’s somewhat tricky and subject to counterargument. The Church has no well-worked-out theory of what grave sins are worse than others. Once things get into the mortal category, what is worse than what gets much iffier and subject to debate. In particular, a priest falsely accused of such things might be inclined to question the idea that 4 is automatically worse than 3 (i.e., is it worse to have actually done these things than to have a lie that they have been done bring down a reputation, a career and a ministry that has helped so many and could help so many more in the future if the lie had never been told?).

Even if one thinks that 4 is automatically worse than 3, wishing 4 false still involves wishing something else that is gravely evil to be the case.

So I find myself a little uncomfortable in light of these reflections.

The situations brings to mind a passage I read some years ago in a book about Judaism that described a strand in Jewish thought which held that, in knowledge that something horrible has occurred, one should not wish it on someone else based on self-interest. For example, according to this book, if a Jewish person were driving home and saw smoke ascending from his block in his neighborhood, he should not pray that it was someone else’s house that had burned down, rather than his own.

It’s certainly natural, in that situation, to want it not to be one’s own house that has burned down. That’s only human, and based on the divinely inbuilt instinct to have more care for our own selves and those close to us than those more distant.

Yet “Love your neighbor as yourself” provides a counterbalance to this that must also be taken into account.

I know that I as much as anyone had the initial impulse, “I hope this isn’t true,” when I read of the allegations against Father Corapi. Upon reflection and asking the question, “What would that really mean if they aren’t true?” I am less comfortable.

Regardless of how options 2, 3 and 4 should be ranked in terms of objective horribleness, I find myself squeamish wishing either grave mental illness or grave sin on another person.

For this reason, I find myself inclining more toward the prayer, “May the truth — whatever that is — be swiftly and accurately established so that justice for all the parties may be served.”

Perhaps Father Corapi himself had this in mind when writing the last line of his statement, where he said:

All of the allegations in the complaint are false, and I ask you to pray for all concerned.

What do you think?

Civil Rights Breakthrough!

Civilrightsbreakthrough I'm working on getting The Fathers Know Best available on Nook.

As a test, I uploaded this short story for Nook (the same one I used to test the software for Kindle).

If you'd like to test things on your end, feel free to download it! It's only 99 cents.

BTW, the story was reviewed on Amazon by the Curt Jester and given four stars. (Thanks, Jeff!)

Also BTW, thanks to SDG for help upgrading the cover image!

 

GET THE STORY IN NOOK FORMAT.

GET THE STORY IN KINDLE FORMAT.

Which Historical Church Figure Has the Best Superhero Name?

Over on Facebook, someone writes:

So which church father (or any saint, I suppose) has the coolest super hero name?

If you want cool superhero names, I'd broaden it beyond just saints and church Fathers, because some historical figures have some really cool superhero names. Here are some of my favorites:

  • Johann Wessel (d. 1489) a.k.a. Doctor Contradictionum
  • Francis Mayron (d. 1325) and Raymond Lully (d. 1315), a.k.a. Doctor Illuminatus (they had an Earth-1, Earth-2 thing going, apparently)
  • Petrus Thomas (d. 14th cent.) a.k.a. Doctor Invincibilis
  • Albertus Magnus (d. 1280) a.k.a. Doctor Magnus
  • St. Bonaventure (d. 1274) a.k.a. Doctor Seraphicus
  • Alanus of Lille (d. 1202) a.k.a. Doctor Universalis

Francis Mayron was also known as Doctor Abstractionum.

So there's quite a bit of superhero cool in the naming department for many Church figures.

MORE HERE.