Author: Jimmy Akin

Jimmy was born in Texas, grew up nominally Protestant, but at age 20 experienced a profound conversion to Christ. Planning on becoming a Protestant seminary professor, he started an intensive study of the Bible. But the more he immersed himself in Scripture the more he found to support the Catholic faith, and in 1992 he entered the Catholic Church. His conversion story, "A Triumph and a Tragedy," is published in Surprised by Truth. Besides being an author, Jimmy is the Senior Apologist at Catholic Answers, a contributing editor to Catholic Answers Magazine, and a weekly guest on "Catholic Answers Live."

Catholic Paranormal Investigations

These days, there are numerous ghost hunting and paranormal TV shows. A few examples include Ghost Hunters, Ghost Adventures, Kindred Spirits, Paranormal Lockdown, and Help! My House Is Haunted.

Frankly, these shows are silly. Shows like this are not taken seriously by competent paranormal investigators.

However, what is a Catholic to make of the subject of paranormal investigations itself?

What Does Paranormal Mean?

The term paranormal is a new one. It was coined around 1905, and it indicates something that is beyond the normal. In Greek, para means things like “beyond,” “beside,” and “alongside,” so paranormal experiences are those that go beyond or are beside normal experiences.

This only raises another question: What counts as “normal”? The answer—for purposes of this term—is those experiences our modern, Western culture considers normal.

In many other cultures, experiences that we would consider paranormal (e.g., having a ghost show up) would be considered entirely normal. Indeed, in our own culture’s history, ghost appearances were considered quite normal, even if they weren’t as common as other experiences.

But today, Western culture has decided that a whole bunch of experiences aren’t normal—e.g., experiences of visions, apparitions, ghosts, angels, demons, psychic abilities, UFOs, Bigfoot, and so on—so they all get lumped together as “paranormal.”

Catholics & the Paranormal

What attitude have Catholics traditionally taken toward these? They’ve actually been quite open.

The historic Christian understanding of ghosts is that most of them are souls in purgatory who are allowed to manifest to the living to take care of unfinished business, serve as warnings, or ask for prayers.

UFOs are new, but the Church has been quite open to the idea of aliens existing. In 1999, St. John Paul II reportedly was asked if there are any aliens, and he replied, “Always remember: They are children of God as we are” (Paul Thigpen, Extraterrestrial Intelligence and the Catholic Faith, p. 191).

Bigfoot is also new (at least to non-Native Americans), but we find Church Fathers open to the idea of strange, hairy, man-like creatures existing. St. Anthony and St. Jerome were both open to the idea of satyrs (in fact, St. Anthony reportedly met one; see Jerome, Life of Paul the Hermit 8).

When it comes to reported human abilities that today are classified as psychic—like precognition and psychokinesis—doctors of the Church including St. Augustine, Pope St. Gregory the Great, and St. Thomas Aquinas have weighed in on them. Augustine was open to precognition, and Gregory the Great and Aquinas positively believed in it, with Aquinas calling it “natural prophecy” to distinguish it from the supernatural prophecy that God gives.

Gregory also believed in psychokinesis (mind over matter) as a spiritual gift, and Aquinas held that it was a purely natural ability that could be used to injure another person (this was his explanation for the Evil Eye).

Beginning in the late 19th century, the modern science of parapsychology—which studies psychic functioning and life after death—was organized, and there have been respected Catholic parapsychologists like the English Jesuit Fr. Herbert Thurston (1856-1939) and the Austrian Cistercian abbot Fr. Alois Wiesinger (1885-1955).

Catholic Paranormal Investigations

When it comes to paranormal investigations themselves, a classic work dealing with the subject was written by Cardinal Prosper Lambertini (1675-1758), who reigned as Pope Benedict XIV from 1740 until his death.

The four-volume work, which is still used today, is titled Doctrina de servorum dei beatificatione et beatorum canonizatione (Latin, “Teaching on the Beatification of Servants of God and the Canonization of Blesseds”). The first three volumes of it have been translated into English under the title Heroic Virtue.

Meant to be used in the process of canonization, the work deals with subjects including how to evaluate private revelations and miracles—and how to determine whether reports of them have natural, paranormal, supernatural, or demonic causes.

Partially based on the principles it contains, the Church today has official procedures for conducting several types of paranormal investigations.

Apparitions & Private Revelations

The first is the investigation of private revelations. In 1978, the then-Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF) published a set of guidelines for bishops on how to evaluate them. At first, this document was distributed only to bishops, but it leaked, and it was officially published by the CDF in 2011.

Summarizing the general thrust of the guidelines the Church uses, Benedict XVI stated, “The criterion for judging the truth of a private revelation is its orientation to Christ himself. If it leads us away from him, then it certainly does not come from the Holy Spirit, who guides us more deeply into the Gospel, and not away from it. Private revelation is an aid to this faith, and it demonstrates its credibility precisely because it refers back to the one public revelation” (Verbum Domini 14).

He also stated, “Ecclesiastical approval of a private revelation essentially means that its message contains nothing contrary to faith and morals; it is licit to make it public and the faithful are authorized to give to it their prudent adhesion. . . . It is a help which is proffered, but its use is not obligatory” (ibid.).

Miracle Investigations

A second type of paranormal investigation the Church conducts is miracle reports. This can happen—for example—when a Eucharistic miracle is reported in a parish, but it most normally happens in connection with causes for canonization.

The Dicastery for the Causes of Saints maintains a board of medical experts (not all of whom are Catholic)—known as the Consulta Medica—to examine healings that are proposed as miracles.

To conduct its work, the Consulta enlists physicians with expertise in particular medical conditions to determine if there is any scientific explanation for a healing.

“To ensure authenticity of medical miracles, the Consulta still follows the criteria established in 1734 by Cardinal Prospero Lambertini, the man who set down the foundational principles for judging modern sainthood causes. To begin with, the disease must be a serious one, considered difficult or impossible to cure. It must not be at a stage where it has run its course and spontaneous regression is possible. Pharmaceutical treatment should not have been used; if it has been, the medicine must be shown to have had no curative effect. The healing must be sudden and instantaneous. It must be complete, and not simply an improvement. It must not follow a physical crisis that could have precipitated a natural cure. Finally, there must be no relapse of the disease or associated infirmity” (John Thavis, The Vatican Prophecies, p. 189).

If these criteria are met and there is no scientific explanation for a healing, the matter is turned over to a panel of theological experts to consider its religious dimension and whether it can be confidently attributed to the intercession of a proposed saint.

Demonic Investigations

A third type of paranormal investigation the Church conducts involves reports of the demonic. There are a variety of ways that the demonic can manifest. Infestation occurs when one or more demons manifest in a specific location. Oppression occurs when they attack things in a person’s life. Vexation occurs when they attack his body. Obsession occurs when they attack his mind. And possession occurs when they take control of him.

As always, the Church applies critical thinking to these cases and does not just assume that a report actually involves the demonic.

Thus, for example, medical and psychological experts may be consulted to rule out the possibility of mental or physical illness being responsible for the report. There can be a variety of other natural causes, including imagination, misinterpretation, and hoax.

To exclude these as causes for a report of possession, something paranormal also needs to be happening. This might be displaying knowledge that the person should not have (e.g., speaking a language the person hasn’t studied or knowing that an object has been blessed) or performing a physical feat the person should not be capable of (e.g., superhuman strength or levitation).

However, just because something paranormal is happening doesn’t mean a demon is responsible. Speaking in tongues is a gift of the Holy Ghost, Samson was endowed with supernatural strength, and both St. Teresa of Avila and St. Joseph of Cupertino levitated.

Vatican exorcist Fr. Corrado Balducci (1923-2008) pointed out that cases of unusual knowledge could just be someone’s ESP (see his book The Devil), and Roman exorcist Fr. Gabriele Amorth (1925-2016) even used “sensitives” (what psychics are called in Italy) to help him investigate exorcism cases (see his book An Exorcist Explains the Demonic).

Therefore, something more is needed to show that an apparent possession is genuinely diabolical, and that something is if the possessing personality displays a marked aversion to the holy. If it can’t stand the name of Jesus or an icon of Mary or the recitation of prayers, then that provides evidence it is actually a demon.

Thus, if you (1) have an alternative personality manifesting through a person and (2) this personality is capable of doing preternatural things and (3) is markedly averse to the holy, you have a plausible case of demonic possession.

A Sophisticated Approach

We thus see that the Church has a sophisticated approach to the paranormal. Unlike the superstitious, it does not believe that all reported experiences are genuinely paranormal. Unlike hardcore skeptics, it does not simply dismiss them. And unlike some, it does not interpret them all as demonic.

It has an openminded but critical approach to them, and it even conducts its own paranormal investigations (albeit ones that are vastly better than what you see on TV ghost hunting shows).

In short, it seeks to apply to a variety of different experiences the basic principle that St. Paul applied to prophecy: “Test everything; hold fast what is good” (1 Thess. 5:21).

By the way, if you’re interested in subjects like this, you should check out my podcast Jimmy Akin’s Mysterious World. It’s in all the standard podcast apps/directories. You can also listen to the audio at Mysterious.fm, and you can watch the video version of the podcast (and my other videos) at YouTube.com/JimmyAkin.

Those *Other* Forty Days (the Ones After Easter)

We’re all familiar with the idea that Lent is forty days long, and it used to be true that Lent involved forty days excluding Sundays, though this isn’t true now, given revisions to the Church’s liturgical calendar.

The length of Lent is inspired by the forty days that Jesus spent in the wilderness before he began his public ministry (Matt. 4:1-11, Mark 1:12-13, Luke 4:1-13).

However, there’s another forty days connected with Jesus, and we read about them at the beginning of Acts:

To them [the apostles] he presented himself alive after his passion by many proofs, appearing to them during forty days, and speaking of the kingdom of God (Acts 1:3).

Jesus then instructed the apostles to remain in Jerusalem until they received the Holy Spirit (Acts 1:4-5). This happened on Pentecost, fifty days after his Crucifixion on Passover.

These forty days are interesting in their own right, and many Christians have wondered about them. For example, why did Jesus only stay forty days and not the full fifty? Why leave when he did?

We aren’t told, but a likely explanation is that he was using the forty days as a parallel to his time in the wilderness. Just as he spent forty days in the desert to prepare for his ministry, he now stayed with the apostles for forty days, preparing them for their ministry.

The tradition that he remained with them forty days was not universal in the early Church, however. The second century Church Father Irenaeus of Lyons recorded that the Valentinian Gnostics claimed Jesus remained with the disciples for eighteen months (Against Heresies 1:3:2). The same view was held by another sect known as the Ophites (1:30:14).

Paulist Press’s translation of Irenaeus finds the origin of this counter tradition obscure. An editorial note on 1:30:14 says “How this strange error arose is a mystery,” and a note on 1:3:2 says, “Perhaps it was in some apocryphal work.”

Though the editors of the Paulist translation are unaware of it, this is actually the correct answer. There was an early noncanonical work that contained this tradition. The Ascension of Isaiah, which was written about the year A.D. 67, states:

And when he [Jesus] has plundered the angel of death, he will rise on the third day and will remain in that world for five hundred and forty-five days (Ascension of Isaiah 9:16).

Five hundred and forty-five days works out to just over eighteen months, and this may have been the origin of the Valentinian and Ophite believe that Jesus remained with the disciples for that amount of time.

Still, not all agreed. The third century Gnostic work called Pistis Sophia holds that Jesus remained with the disciples for an astonishing eleven years!

It came to pass, when Jesus had risen from the dead, that he passed eleven years discoursing with his disciples (Pistis Sophia 1:1).

However, the canonical book of Acts is divinely inspired, and Luke was an excellent historian, so we should go with him. Forty days it was.

What was Jesus doing in this time? According to various Gnostic sects, he was imparting their secret Gnostic teachings to the apostles.

According to their idea, Jesus gave two sets of teachings. The first was an exoteric or public set of teachings that the apostles passed down to the bishops to be shared with the faithful in general, and the second was an esoteric or secret set of teachings that were to be shared only with a select few (the Gnostics themselves).

This “two sets of teachings” idea was to justify how the Gnostics could have teachings coming from Jesus that were manifestly different than those preached by the bishops.

Because books were fantastically expensive in the ancient world (with a single copy of Matthew costing the equivalent of more than $2,000), the Gnostics didn’t bother writing Gospels in our sense—that is, documents that told the full story of Jesus.

Instead, they supplemented the canonical Gospels by writing documents that zoomed in on particular moments in Jesus’ life. An example is the second century Gospel of Mary, in which—after the Resurrection—Jesus gave “Mary” (likely Mary Magdalen) secret Gnostic teachings.

However, even secular scholars acknowledge that Gnostic documents are too late to contain accurate information about Jesus’ life and teachings.

We also do not have writings from the Church Fathers that are early enough to provide reliable information about the forty days. Acts 1:3 is barely mentioned in the orthodox Christian writings of the second and third centuries, and when it is mentioned, we aren’t given any new information about the period.

So once again, we’re back to the canonical works if we wish to obtain that.

At the beginning of Acts, Luke tells us that Jesus essentially did three things during the forty days: (1) “he presented himself alive after his passion,” (2) “by many proofs,” and (3) “speaking of the kingdom of God.”

He may well have done other things, too, like spending time with the disciples, sharing table fellowship with them, and even possibly celebrating the Eucharist. But these are the three things Luke tells us he did.

When it comes to presenting himself alive, Luke mentions only two events from this period in Acts. The first is the instruction to remain in Jerusalem until the apostles receive the Holy Spirit (Acts 1:4-5), and the second is the Ascension (Acts 1:6-11).

But Luke tells us more in his Gospel, indicating that Jesus appeared to the two disciples (one of whom was Cleopas) on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35), that he appeared to Peter (Luke 24:34), that he appeared to the apostles “and those who were with them” (Luke 24:36-49), and that he ascended before them (Luke 24:50-53).

We can expand on these appearances by consulting other canonical texts. Matthew records that Jesus also appeared to the women who discovered the empty tomb (Matt. 28:9-10) and that he appeared to the Eleven in Galilee, where he gave them the Great Commission (Matt. 28:16-20).

John reports that Jesus appeared to Mary Magdalen, in particular, on the morning of the Resurrection (John 20:11-17) and that he appeared to the other core disciples (less Thomas) later that day (John 20:19-23). He also appeared to the Twelve including Thomas a week later (John 20:26-29), and he later appeared to a group of seven disciples at the Sea of Galilee (John 21:1-22).

The longer ending of Mark confirms many of these appearances, including the one to Mary Magdalen (Mark 16:9), the one on the road to Emmaus (Mark 16:12), and another to the Eleven (Mark 16:14), as well as the giving of the Great Commission (Mark 16:15-18) and the Ascension (Mark 16:19).

We also have evidence from St. Paul, who records the same appearance to Peter that Luke mentioned (1 Cor. 15:5a) and a subsequent appearance to the Eleven (1 Cor. 15:5b).

Paul strikingly says that “Then he appeared to more than five hundred brethren at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have fallen asleep” (1 Cor. 15:6)—that is, by the time 1 Corinthians was written around A.D. 53.

After this appearance to more than five hundred, Paul says, “Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles” (1 Cor. 15:7)—indicating first an appearance to James “the brother of the Lord” and then another appearance to the Twelve (which would have, by this time, included Judas’s replacement, Matthias; see Acts 1:12-26).

Finally, Paul says, “Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me” (1 Cor. 15:8). However, Luke indicates that this occurred long after the Ascension and thus after the forty days were over (Acts 9:1-19).

When it comes to the “many proofs” that Jesus was alive, Luke records two of them in his Gospel. The first is this:

[The Eleven and those who were with them] were startled and frightened and supposed that they saw a spirit. And he said to them, “Why are you troubled, and why do questionings rise in your hearts? See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself; handle me, and see; for a spirit has not flesh and bones as you see that I have.” And when he had said this he showed them his hands and his feet (Luke 24:37-40).

The second is:

And while they still disbelieved for joy, and wondered, he said to them, “Have you anything here to eat?” They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate before them (Luke 24:41-43).

John appears to record more detailed accounts of these same two proofs, elaborating that the first occurred when Jesus invited Thomas to touch the wounds in his hands and side (John 20:24-28) and when he appeared to seven disciples at the Sea of Galilee and ate charbroiled fish with them (John 21:9-14).

When it comes to “speaking of the kingdom of God,” we are not told specifically what Jesus said.

The Gnostics obviously had their own (completely unreliable) theories. However, a more secure basis is found in the canonical works that we have.

The kingdom of God is a prominent theme in the canonical Gospels, and we are told that the disciples did not understand things that he told them before the Resurrection, including what he meant when he predicted that he would die and rise again (Mark 9:30-32), as well as other matters (John 2:21-22).

However, on the road to Emmaus, “beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself” (Luke 24:27). Similarly, when he spoke to the apostles and those with them:

Then he said to them, “These are my words which I spoke to you, while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the law of Moses and the prophets and the psalms must be fulfilled.” Then he opened their minds to understand the Scriptures, and said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins should be preached in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem” (Luke 24:44-47).

It is thus likely that in this forty-day period, Jesus reviewed many of his previous teachings about the kingdom of God and helped the disciples understand them more fully.

Did Jesus do other things in this period? It is quite possible. Near the end of his Gospel, John tells us:

Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of the disciples, which are not written in this book (John 20:30).

Some of those signs may have occurred in the forty-day period he spent with the disciples after his resurrection.

However, whether he did so and what these signs may have been, we are not told. We must therefore leave them as an Easter mystery.

 

Is Judas in Hell?

One of the key events of Holy Week is the betrayal of Jesus by Judas Iscariot—something many Christians are convinced caused Judas to go to hell. I used to be one of them.

However, several times recently, Church officials have stated that—even though hell is a real possibility humans can choose—the Church does not teach that any particular person is in hell.

For example, in his 1994 interview book Crossing the Threshold of Hope, John Paul II discussed who will go to hell and wrote:

The Church has never made any pronouncement in this regard. This is a mystery, truly inscrutable, which embraces the holiness of God and the conscience of man. The silence of the Church is, therefore, the only appropriate position for Christian faith. Even when Jesus says of Judas, the traitor, “It would be better for that man if he had never been born” (Matt. 26:24), his words do not allude for certain to eternal damnation (p. 139).

Similarly, in a 2006 audience, Benedict XVI said:

Even though he went to hang himself (cf. Matt. 27:5), it is not up to us to judge his gesture, substituting ourselves for the infinitely merciful and just God (October 18, 2006).

Despite these statements, it has long been commonly held that Judas is, in fact, damned. So how can we understand the traditional opinion in light of the possibility of Judas’s salvation that John Paul II and Benedict XVI hold out?

One approach is to review the evidence we have for Judas being in hell and seeing how conclusive it is.

A first type of evidence is something that many people may not be aware of: Data from exorcism cases.

Christians are familiar with the concept of exorcism being used for possession by demons—that is, fallen angels. However, there are also occasional reports of spirit possession by human souls.

In Judaism, such spirits are referred to as dybbuks. A dybbuk is “a disembodied human spirit that, because of former sins, wanders restlessly until it finds a haven in the body of a living person” (Brittanica.com).

Although dybbuks are more commonly associated with popular Jewish belief, they are also sometimes reported in Christian contexts, and that includes Judas. Exorcists periodically report that—during the course of the rite—one of the possessing spirits will identify itself as a former human, typically a famous sinner such as the emperor Nero or Judas Iscariot.

If a possessing spirit identifies itself as Judas and speaks truthfully, then that would support the idea that Judas is a lost soul.

The difficulty is the “and speaks truthfully” part. Demons—and any human allies they have in the possession racket—are working for “the father of lies” (John 8:44), which means that you can’t trust anything they say.

Consequently, the 1614 rite of exorcism—which is still in use—warns that the exorcist must “be on his guard against the arts and subterfuges which the evil spirits are wont to use in deceiving the exorcist” (n. 5). Further, it specifically warns that “neither ought he to give any credence to the devil if the latter maintains that he is the spirit of . . . a deceased party” (n. 14).

The Church does not have a teaching on whether damned souls can ever possess the living, so this is an open question theologically. However, because of how untruthful possessing spirits are, their identity claims are not a reliable form of evidence, and the Church has warned us not to pay heed to such claims.

I thus don’t think that we can rely on evidence from these cases to prove Judas is in hell.

Another source of evidence is the common opinion itself that Judas is damned, including by many Church Fathers.

The Holy Spirit guides Christian opinion—including the views of the Fathers—on matters of faith, and so this also could count as evidence for Judas’s damnation.

However, for it to be conclusive, two conditions would have to be met: (1) Judas’s damnation would have to be a matter of the Faith, and (2) the relevant parties would have to agree that this is definitively the case, meaning that there is absolutely no possibility of disputing it.

Neither of these seem fulfilled. For an infallible definition to occur, the members of the Magisterium (bishops teaching in union with the pope) must—at some point in time—come to a position where they are “in agreement on one position as definitively to be held” (Lumen Gentium 25).

However, John Paul II and Benedict XVI indicate that they have not done this. When John Paul II says (above) that “the Church has never made any pronouncement” on individuals who are in hell, including Judas, then that means it doesn’t have a teaching on this position, much less a definitive one.

Individuals—including many of the Fathers—may hold the opinion that Judas is in hell, but opinions—no matter how common—are not infallible Church teachings. Consequently, we can’t appeal to this kind of evidence as conclusive of Judas’s damnation.

What about the idea that this might be a matter of the Faith? Here we come to the subject of what Scripture teaches. The reason that many in Catholic history have held Judas is damned is because of what Scripture says, so does this give us conclusive evidence?

John Paul II and Benedict XVI have already responded to the two passages in Scripture that one might appeal to.

John Paul II dealt with the passage where Jesus said, “Woe to that man by whom the Son of man is betrayed! It would have been better for that man if he had not been born” (Matt. 26:24; cf. Mark 14:21), and the pope said that Jesus’ words “do not allude for certain to eternal damnation.”

This is true. While the warning is reasonably taken as meaning that Judas will go to hell because of what he has done, it—like biblical warnings in general about the consequences of sin—presupposes one thing: That the person does not repent (Jer. 18:7-10).

So if Judas were to heed the call, “Repent therefore, and turn again, that your sins may be blotted out” (Acts 3:19), then his sins would be blotted out.

Now here’s the thing: Matthew’s Gospel—the same one where Jesus warns of Judas’s fate—goes on to say this:

When Judas, his betrayer, saw that he was condemned, he repented and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders, saying, “I have sinned in betraying innocent blood” (Matt. 27:3-4).

Matthew says that Judas repented! He recognized that he sinned and that Jesus was innocent, and he sought to return the money. When the priests refused to take it back, he threw it into the temple (27:5a), so that he would not profit from his sin. That sounds like a sincere repentance!

But what about what Judas did next? He hanged himself (27:5b), and this is the second text one might appeal to for Judas’s damnation. Even if he repented of having betrayed Jesus, wouldn’t he still go to hell because of his suicide?

The Catechism of the Catholic Church states:

We should not despair of the eternal salvation of persons who have taken their own lives. By ways known to him alone, God can provide the opportunity for salutary repentance. The Church prays for persons who have taken their own lives (2283).

Suicide does not always result in hell because a person may not be fully responsible for his action due to lack of knowledge, or psychological factors, and because “in ways known to him alone,” God may help the person to repent—even in the act of committing suicide itself.

Judas thus may have been so grieved by his offense that he wasn’t fully responsible for his suicide, or he may have repented of taking his own life while he was still hanging from his neck.

As Pope Benedict said, “Even though he went to hang himself, it is not up to us to judge his gesture, substituting ourselves for the infinitely merciful and just God.”

It thus appears that we don’t have conclusive proof that Judas is in hell, and there is still a ray of hope for him.

This Holy Week, let us thank God for his mercy upon all of us. It is a mercy that—in principle—might extend even to Judas.

 

What’s the Deal with Holy Week? 9 Things to Know and Share

Holy Week is tremendously important in the Christian year. What is it? Where did it come from? And what happens in it?

Here are 9 things to know and share.

 

1) What is Holy Week?

Holy Week is the week preceding Easter Sunday. According to the General Norms for the Liturgical Year and the Calendar, “The Sixth Sunday [of Lent], on which Holy Week begins, is called, ‘Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord’” (n. 30).

Holy Week thus begins on the Sixth Sunday of Lent, and the period is characterized by a variety of liturgical celebrations. These have changed over time, but the Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church states:

The various traditional rites of the week, of which each day has its own, probably began to develop at Jerusalem in the 4th cent., when pilgrimages became easily possible, and Christians could indulge a natural desire to re-enact the last scenes of the life of Christ in liturgical drama.

The Pilgrimage of Egeria, now generally thought to describe a visit in 381–4, gives a detailed account of the contemporary observance of Holy Week in Jerusalem (s.v. “Holy Week”).

Because of Holy Week’s importance, the liturgical celebrations during it take precedence over any other celebrations that would otherwise occur in the period (e.g., saints’ days). The General Norms state, “the weekdays of Holy Week, from Monday up to and including Thursday, take precedence over all other celebrations” (n. 16a).

 

2) What happens on the Sunday of Holy Week?

On this day, the liturgy commemorates both Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem and his Passion.

The Triumphal Entry was an event in which Jesus conspicuously fulfilled the messianic prophecy of Zechariah 9:9—“Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt the foal of a donkey.” He thus openly displayed himself as the messianic king of the Jews.

During this event, the crowds waved palm branches to hail his arrival, which is why the day is called Palm Sunday and why we use palm fronds in the liturgy on this day.

We know the event happened on this day because John reports that Jesus was anointed at Bethany “six days before the Passover” (John 12:1)—that is before, Good Friday—and that he made his final entry to Jerusalem “the next day” (John 12:12). Therefore, the entry occurred on the Sunday preceding Passover.

On this day the liturgy also commemorates the Passion of Jesus, and the Gospel reading is devoted to his suffering and crucifixion with which the week climaxes.

 

3) What happens on the Monday of Holy Week?

In the Gospels, Mark 11:12 reports that “on the following day” (Holy Monday), Jesus was returning to Jerusalem from an overnight stay in Bethany when he found a fig tree displaying leaves but no fruit and cursed it.

He then went to Jerusalem where he found the temple polluted by people buying and selling, and he cleared them out.

Jesus also begins teaching in the temple on a daily basis.

In the liturgy, the Gospel reading for this day is from John 12, and it backs up in time to the day before the Triumphal Entry and relates the story of Jesus being anointed at Bethany. He notes that this is in preparation for his burial (v. 7).

Although these events took place the previous Saturday, they are presented here in the liturgy to form a thematic narrative leading up to the Crucifixion.

 

4) What happens on the Tuesday of Holy Week?

In the Gospels, Mark reports that on this day “they passed by in the morning” (Mark 11:20), the saw the fig tree that Jesus had cursed withered.

Jesus continued to teach in the temple on this day.

In the liturgy, the Gospel reading is from John 13, and it records Jesus’ prediction at the Last Supper that one of the Twelve—Judas—will betray him. Judas then leaves the meal, and Jesus predicts that Peter will deny him three times.

These events took place on Holy Thursday, but they are presented here to continue the thematic narrative leading up to Jesus’ crucifixion.

 

5) What happens on the Wednesday of Holy Week?

In the Gospels, Mark 14:1 reports that “it was two days before the Passover” (i.e., Holy Wednesday), and the chief priests and scribes were plotting how to kill Jesus.

Judas Iscariot then went to the chief priests and offered to betray him (Mark 14:10). Judas thus agreed to spy on Jesus, and so Holy Wednesday is sometimes called “Spy Wednesday.”

In the liturgy, the Gospel reading is from Matthew 26, and it covers how Judas agreed to betray Jesus, along with events that occurred the next day, including the beginning of the Last Supper.

 

6) What happens on the Thursday of Holy Week?

In the Gospels, Jesus and his disciples sacrificed the Passover lamb (Mark 14:12) and found the location where Jesus had arranged—ahead of time—to eat the Last Supper. This involved a subterfuge. Instead of just telling the disciples where they would eat the Passover, Jesus sent two of them into the city, where they would find a man carrying a jar of water (an unusual sign, as this was normally women’s work). They were to follow this man home, enter the house, and the homeowner would then show them an already furnished guest room.

The apparent purpose of this subterfuge was to keep Judas from knowing in advance where the meal would be eaten, preventing him from being able to betray Jesus before the Last Supper.

At the event, Jesus washed the disciples’ feet (John 13:1-20), instituted the Eucharist, and predicted his betrayal by Judas and his denial by Peter.

During this supper, Jesus also said, “A new commandment I give to you: that you love one another—just as I have loved you, that you also love one another” (John 13:34). The Latin word for commandment is mandatum, and this passed over into English as “maundy.” Consequently, this day is sometimes called Maundy Thursday—the day Jesus gave this commandment.

Afterwards, they went to the garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus prayed before Judas arrived with an arresting party. He was taken to the home of the high priest, where Peter denied him three times, and a hearing was conducted before Caiaphas. Some of this likely occurred after midnight, meaning it technically happened early on Good Friday.

In the liturgy, on the morning of Holy Thursday, it is customary for the bishop and the priests of his diocese to celebrate a “chrism Mass,” in which the oils used in the sacraments are consecrated. (However, for logistical reasons this Mass can be celebrated on another day.)

In the evening, the season of Lent ends with the beginning of the Mass of the Lord’s Supper. According to the General Norms, Lent runs “from Ash Wednesday up to but excluding the Mass of the Lord’s Supper” (n. 28).

A new liturgical season—the Paschal Triduum—begins at this point. “The Paschal Triduum of the Passion and Resurrection of the Lord begins with the evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper” (n. 19).

The Gospel reading at this Mass is from John 13, where Jesus washes the disciples’ feet, and—optionally—the priest celebrating the Mass may do the same for some of the faithful.

Afterward, the altar is stripped, the Eucharist is processed to a place of repose, and a period of silent Eucharistic adoration is held.

 

7) What happens on the Friday of Holy Week?

In the Gospels, Jesus was brought before the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, early in the morning. Apparently, proceedings involving the high priest had lasted all night, as John tells us that the Jewish officials had not yet been able to eat the Passover meal (John 18:28).

At this point, Matthew tells us that Judas repented and insisted on returning the money he had been paid to betray Jesus, after which he hanged himself (Matt. 27:3-10).

A series of legal proceedings followed, including a hearing before Herod Antipas (Luke 23:6-12). However, ultimately Jesus was condemned to be crucified.

During the Crucifixion, “from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land until the ninth hour” (Matt. 27:45)—that is, from about noon to about 3 p.m.—at which point Jesus died.

Since the sabbath was about to begin at sundown, a hasty burial was arranged for Jesus in the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea—a Christian who was a member of the Jewish council—since this tomb was located near where Jesus was crucified (John 19:38-42).

In the liturgy, the season of Triduum continues. Mass is not celebrated on this day. Instead, a Communion service is held (often at about 3 p.m.). This consists of a liturgy of the word, the veneration of the cross, and the distribution of holy Communion.

 

8) What happens on the Saturday of Holy Week?

In the Gospels, the only report we have of this day is from Luke 23:56: “On the sabbath they [the disciples] rested according to the commandment.”

In the liturgy, the season of Triduum continues. During the daytime hours, Mass is not celebrated, and holy Communion is given only to the dying.

However, after nightfall, a vigil Mass commemorating the Resurrection of Jesus on Easter is celebrated (i.e., Easter Vigil).

This Mass includes a special ceremony in which the faithful hold lighted lamps or candles, reflecting the parable of the wise and foolish virgins (Matt. 25:1-13), where the wise virgins await Christ’s return with lighted lamps.

It is also customary for catechumens to be baptized and, in many places, for already baptized candidates to be received into the Church. They are also confirmed and receive their first holy Communion, completing the sacraments of Christian initiation.

At this point, Holy Week itself is over, but there is more to the story . . .

 

9) What happens on Easter Sunday?

In the Gospels, the disciples first learned of the Resurrection after the women went to the tomb and met angels, who revealed that it was empty. This triggered a period of confusion among the disciples, but the confusion was dispelled when Jesus himself appeared to them, initiating the season of Easter joy.

In the liturgy, a single Mass is celebrated in the morning. The Gospel reading is from John 20:1-9, which records the discovery of the empty tomb by Mary Magdalen and how Peter and the beloved disciple ran to the site and found her report was true.

The season of Triduum then concludes. The General Norms state that it “closes with Vespers (Evening Prayer) of the Sunday of the Resurrection” (n. 19).

At that point, the joyous liturgical season of Easter begins.

Don’t Make Fun of Renowned Dan Brown!

Today I was talking with someone about works that I’ve had to read as part of my job as an apologist–whether I wanted to or not–and he suggested that Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code might be one of them.

Indeed, it was.

I regarded the book as not only wildly historically inaccurate but as just, plain badly written.

Linguistics (the study of the phenomenon of language) is one of my hobbies, and I used to read linguistics blogs that would just savage Dan Brown’s horrible English prose.

That brought to mind an article I read back in 2013 in renowned British newspaper The Telegraph.

My favorite line has always been “It made his insect eyes flash like a rocket.”

Unfortunately, that article is now behind a paywall, but it’s a devastating parody of Brown’s abysmal writing style.

Fortunately, I found it elsewhere online.

In the service of preserving its memory, I present it here.

Don’t make fun of renowned Dan Brown

The snobs and critics will have a field day with the US author’s latest work – but I’m not joining in.

By Michael Deacon

 

Renowned author Dan Brown woke up in his luxurious four-poster bed in his expensive $10 million house – and immediately he felt angry. Most people would have thought that the 48-year-old man had no reason to be angry. After all, the famous writer had a new book coming out. But that was the problem. A new book meant an inevitable attack on the rich novelist by the wealthy wordsmith’s fiercest foes. The critics.

Renowned author Dan Brown hated the critics. Ever since he had become one of the world’s top renowned authors they had made fun of him. They had mocked bestselling book The Da Vinci Code, successful novel Digital Fortress, popular tome Deception Point, money-spinning volume Angels & Demons and chart-topping work of narrative fiction The Lost Symbol.

The critics said his writing was clumsy, ungrammatical, repetitive and repetitive. They said it was full of unnecessary tautology. They said his prose was swamped in a sea of mixed metaphors. For some reason they found something funny in sentences such as “His eyes went white, like a shark about to attack.” They even say my books are packed with banal and superfluous description, thought the 5ft 9in man. He particularly hated it when they said his imagery was nonsensical. It made his insect eyes flash like a rocket.

Renowned author Dan Brown got out of his luxurious four-poster bed in his expensive $10 million house and paced the bedroom, using the feet located at the ends of his two legs to propel him forwards. He knew he shouldn’t care what a few jealous critics thought. His new book Inferno was coming out on Tuesday, and the 480-page hardback published by Doubleday with a recommended US retail price of $29.95 was sure to be a hit. Wasn’t it?

I’ll call my agent, pondered the prosperous scribe. He reached for the telephone using one of his two hands. “Hello, this is renowned author Dan Brown,” spoke renowned author Dan Brown. “I want to talk to literary agent John Unconvincingname.”

“Mr Unconvincingname, it’s renowned author Dan Brown,” told the voice at the other end of the line. Instantly the voice at the other end of the line was replaced by a different voice at the other end of the line. “Hello, it’s literary agent John Unconvincingname,” informed the new voice at the other end of the line.

“Hello agent John, it’s client Dan,” commented the pecunious scribbler. “I’m worried about new book Inferno. I think critics are going to say it’s badly written.”

The voice at the other end of the line gave a sigh, like a mighty oak toppling into a great river, or something else that didn’t sound like a sigh if you gave it a moment’s thought. “Who cares what the stupid critics say?” advised the literary agent. “They’re just snobs. You have millions of fans.”

That’s true, mused the accomplished composer of thrillers that combined religion, high culture and conspiracy theories. His books were read by everyone from renowned politician President Obama to renowned musician Britney Spears. It was said that a copy of The Da Vinci Code had even found its way into the hands of renowned monarch the Queen. He was grateful for his good fortune, and gave thanks every night in his prayers to renowned deity God.

“Think of all the money you’ve made,” recommended the literary agent. That was true too. The thriving ink-slinger’s wealth had allowed him to indulge his passion for great art. Among his proudest purchases were a specially commissioned landscape by acclaimed painter Vincent van Gogh and a signed first edition by revered scriptwriter William Shakespeare.

Renowned author Dan Brown smiled, the ends of his mouth curving upwards in a physical expression of pleasure. He felt much better. If your books brought innocent delight to millions of readers, what did it matter whether you knew the difference between a transitive and an intransitive verb?

“Thanks, John,” he thanked. Then he put down the telephone and perambulated on foot to the desk behind which he habitually sat on a chair to write his famous books on an Apple iMac MD093B/A computer. New book Inferno, the latest in his celebrated series about fictional Harvard professor Robert Langdon, was inspired by top Italian poet Dante. It wouldn’t be the last in the lucrative sequence, either. He had all the sequels mapped out. The Mozart Acrostic. The Michelangelo Wordsearch. The Newton Sudoku.

The 190lb adult male human being nodded his head to indicate satisfaction and returned to his bedroom by walking there. Still asleep in the luxurious four-poster bed of the expensive $10 million house was beautiful wife Mrs Brown. Renowned author Dan Brown gazed admiringly at the pulchritudinous brunette’s blonde tresses, flowing from her head like a stream but made from hair instead of water and without any fish in. She was as majestic as the finest sculpture by Caravaggio or the most coveted portrait by Rodin. I like the attractive woman, thought the successful man.

Perhaps one day, inspired by beautiful wife Mrs Brown, he would move into romantic poetry, like market-leading British rhymester John Keats.That would be good, opined the talented person, and got back into the luxurious four-poster bed. He felt as happy as a man who has something to be happy about and is suitably happy about it.

 

Being Precise About Church Teaching on Hell

Pope Francis recently sparked a discussion when he told an Italian television program, “What I am going to say is not a dogma of faith but my own personal view: I like to think of hell as empty; I hope it is.”

I was not surprised he would have this view. It is common in some ecclesiastical circles and was proposed by theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar in his book Dare We Hope That All Men Be Saved?

Given how Pope Francis’s comments often function as a lightning-rod, I was not surprised by the discussion that followed, and one contribution was a recent article by Ralph Martin.

Although framed as a piece about what the Church teaches on hell, Martin spent much of it arguing for his own view, which is the traditional one, that hell is both a real possibility and an actual reality for many people. He explores this further in his book Will Many Be Saved?

I wish Martin well in arguing his case—and arguing it vigorously. The thought that hell might be a real but unrealized possibility is a comforting one that can be attractive to many today. However, Scripture contains serious warnings about hell that do not sound hypothetical in nature.

As a result, the theological field should not simply be ceded to what we moderns find comfortable and reassuring. If there is to be any reassessment of the traditional view of hell as an actual reality for many, Scripture’s statements need to be taken seriously, and both sides need to be argued vigorously.

(I’d note, in particular, that in his book von Balthasar never even addresses Luke 13:23-24, where in response to the question, “Lord, will those who are saved be few?” Jesus responds, “Strive to enter by the narrow door; for many, I tell you, will seek to enter and will not be able.”)

My sympathies are thus with Martin, but I would refine a few things about his article.

First, in regard to Pope Francis’s statement that what he was about to say was “not a dogma of faith,” Martin offers a definition of dogma that could suggest it is essentially connected with salvation. I would point out, by contrast, that in current theological jargon, a dogma is a truth that the Catholic Church has infallibly defined to be divinely revealed, whether or not it has any direct connection with salvation. (Culpably rejecting a dogma is a mortal sin; but the truth itself doesn’t have to have a direct connection with salvation.)

Second, there is a passage where Martin conveys a misleading impression about the views of Cardinal Avery Dulles. First, he says that “the traditional interpretation . . . . by the Church’s greatest theologians is that it is very likely that many people go [to hell],” then he identifies Dulles as “perhaps the leading American theologian of the 20th century,” and then he cites a 2003 article that Dulles wrote in First Things.

The problem is that Martin quotes a part of the article in which Dulles refers to several passages of Scripture and says, “Taken in their obvious meaning, passages such as these give the impression that there is a hell, and that many go there; more in fact, than are saved.” The impression is thus that Dulles is firmly in the line of “the Church’s greatest theologians” who believe that “many go there; more in fact, than are saved.”

However, this is not Dulles’s view! Dulles noted the obvious interpretation of various Bible passages without asserting that the obvious one is the only possible one. In fact, he concludes:

The search for numbers in the demography of hell is futile. God in His wisdom has seen fit not to disclose any statistics. Several sayings of Jesus in the Gospels give the impression that the majority are lost. Paul, without denying the likelihood that some sinners will die without sufficient repentance, teaches that the grace of Christ is more powerful than sin: “Where sin increased, grace abounded all the more” (Romans 5:20). Passages such as these permit us to hope that very many, if not all, will be saved.

All told, it is good that God has left us without exact information. If we knew that virtually everybody would be damned, we would be tempted to despair. If we knew that all, or nearly all, are saved, we might become presumptuous. If we knew that some fixed percent, say fifty, would be saved, we would be caught in an unholy rivalry. We would rejoice in every sign that others were among the lost, since our own chances of election would thereby be increased. Such a competitive spirit would hardly be compatible with the gospel.

Martin’s article thus conveys a misleading impression of Dulles.

What does the Church actually teach? This is found in the Catechism, which says, in part, “The teaching of the Church affirms the existence of hell and its eternity. Immediately after death the souls of those who die in a state of mortal sin descend into hell” (CCC 1035).

The Church thus teaches that hell is a real possibility. If you die in mortal sin, you go there. But does the Church leave room for the idea that God might rescue all from mortal sin—even at the last moment?

The Catechism states: “The Church prays that no one should be lost: ‘Lord, let me never be parted from you.’ If it is true that no one can save himself, it is also true that God ‘desires all men to be saved’ (1 Tim 2:4), and that for him ‘all things are possible’ (Mt 19:26)” (CCC 1058).

The Catechism thus seems open to the possibility that God—for whom “all things are possible”—might be able to rescue all from mortal sin and thus hell might be empty.

This view seems to be permitted on other grounds. After von Balthasar proposed it in Dare We Hope, John Paul II named him a cardinal—specifically for his theological contributions—though von Baltazar died before the consistory.

Further, as Dulles notes in his 2003 article, John Paul II seemed to have a change of view on this subject. Dulles notes that in his non-magisterial 1995 interview book Crossing the Threshold of Hope, the pope raised von Balthasar’s view and says, “yet the words of Christ are unequivocal. In Matthew’s Gospel he speaks clearly of those who will go to eternal punishment.”

However, in a magisterial text in 1999, Pope John Paul seemed to have shifted, saying, “Eternal damnation remains a possibility, but we are not granted, without special divine revelation, the knowledge of whether or which human beings are effectively involved in it” (Audience, July 28, 1999).

Based on what he said, the pontiff was open on the question of “whether” human beings actually go to hell, and Dulles concludes that “the Pope may have abandoned his criticism of Balthasar.”

It should be noted that in the version of the audience currently on the Vatican web site, the words “whether or” have been deleted. However, this does not alter what John Paul II apparently said, and we cannot know why the words were deleted or whether John Paul II gave his approval to this edit.

For his part, Benedict XVI also took an optimistic view regarding hell in his 2007 encyclical Spe Salvi. He states:

There can be people who have totally destroyed their desire for truth and readiness to love, people for whom everything has become a lie, people who have lived for hatred and have suppressed all love within themselves. This is a terrifying thought, but alarming profiles of this type can be seen in certain figures of our own history. In such people all would be beyond remedy and the destruction of good would be irrevocable: this is what we mean by the word Hell (n. 45).

He then contrasts these with people who are so pure they go straight to heaven and then concludes:

Yet we know from experience that neither case is normal in human life. For the great majority of people—we may suppose—there remains in the depths of their being an ultimate interior openness to truth, to love, to God (n. 46).

This latter category goes to purgatory to be purified. Pope Benedict thus thought that “we may suppose” that few go to hell, few go directly to heaven, and “the great majority of people” go to purgatory before heaven.

We thus see the three most recent popes taking optimistic views of hell, with the later John Paul II seemingly open to the idea it may be empty, Benedict holding that we may suppose those who go there are few, and Francis hoping that it is empty.

I’m firmly convinced of the value for theological discussion of vigorously arguing the traditional view that some and even many go to hell—and hearing what the optimists have to say in response. At the same time, when presenting the teaching of the Church, we should be aware of the flexibility that is being displayed on this matter, including by the recent popes.

Why Did Joseph Go to Bethlehem?

In the words of British archaeologist William M. Ramsay:

Luke is a historian of the first rank; not merely are his statements of fact trustworthy; he is possessed of the true historic sense. . . . In short, this author should be placed along with the very greatest of historians” (The Bearing of Recent Discovery on the Trustworthiness of the New Testament, ch. 18).

Despite this, numerous modern skeptics—many of whom are just repeating what other skeptics have said—treat Luke as if he’s hopelessly historically confused, particularly with regard to his birth narrative of Jesus, which says:

In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be enrolled. This was the first enrollment, when Quirinius was governor of Syria. And all went to be enrolled, each to his own city. [So] Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the city of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David (Luke 2:1-4).

One of the skeptics’ criticisms of this passage is the statement that Joseph went from Nazareth to Bethlehem because he was of the lineage of David.

Here is where mockery commonly begins.

“This is ridiculous!” the skeptic will say. “David lived a thousand years before the time of Jesus! The Roman Empire would never conduct a census this way! It would never require people to go where one of their ancestors lived a thousand years ago! Nobody would even know that! I mean, do you know the city where your ancestors lived a thousand years ago?”

Despite the vigor with which some skeptics pound their pulpits on this subject, their criticism is simply misdirected. They are misreading what Luke says.

Prior to this point, Joseph has been mentioned only once in the text, when the angel Gabriel came to announce the birth of Jesus:

In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin’s name was Mary (Luke 1:26-27).

This passage indicates three things about Joseph: (1) he was betrothed to Mary, (2) he was of the house of David, and (3) he apparently has some kind of connection with Nazareth, since that’s where Mary was when the angel appeared. That’s all the reader knows at this point.

So let’s read the second passage discussing Joseph (2:1-4) and see what one of Luke’s normal readers would make of it.

Luke tells us that “all went to be enrolled.” The first thing to note is that Luke doesn’t tell us what kind of enrollment this was. He expects the reader to already know that from the events of the day. Many have assumed that this was a tax census, but we don’t know that. It may have been something else. In fact, there is a good chance that it was a loyalty enrollment that we have other records of, in which subjects of the Roman Empire swore their loyalty to Augustus Caesar.

However that may be, people needed to be somewhere that they could participate in the enrollment, so they went “each to his own city.” Obviously, this only applied to people who were away from their city during the period of the enrollment. If you were already in your own city, you didn’t need to go anywhere.

Did Romans require people to go to their own cities for enrollments if they were away from them? Yes, they did. In A.D. 104, the Roman governor of Egypt, Gaius Vibius Maximus, issued a decree that stated:

Since registration by household is imminent, it is necessary to notify all who for any reason are absent from their districts to return to their own homes that they may carry out the ordinary business of registration and continue faithfully the farming expected of them (lines 20–27; in Adolf Deissmann, Light from the Ancient East, 268).

So—if you were away from your home city—you needed to go back there for events like this.

Luke then says, “So Joseph also went up.” From this, we can infer that—at the time of the registration—Joseph was away from his “own city.” Therefore, he returned there.

Where was he at the time? Luke says he went up “from Galilee, from the city of Nazareth.” Okay, so he was in Nazareth in Galilee. That’s not surprising in light of the fact he was betrothed to Mary, who was in Nazareth when the angel appeared.

So where was Joseph’s “own city”? Luke tells us that he went “to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem.” Thus, Bethlehem was Joseph’s “own city.”

We now come to the statement that really sets skeptics off: “because he was of the house and lineage of David.”

Luke includes this line to help explain why Bethlehem was Joseph’s “own city,” but skeptics draw a completely unwarranted inference from this and assume that everybody in the Roman Empire was required to return to where one of their ancestors from a thousand years ago lived.

Does Luke say that? Of course not! It would not be remotely practical to conduct a census—or any other kind of enrollment—in that way.

And that’s not only obvious to us; it was just as obvious to Luke and to Luke’s readers. Everybody knew that there was no such requirement for Roman enrollments, and neither Luke nor his readers would have ever dreamed that someone would make such a ridiculous inference.

If Luke had the ability to speak with a modern, mocking skeptic, one can easily imagine him wanting to say something like, “Don’t be an idiot. That’s obviously not what I meant!”

So what did he mean? What would an ordinary, first century reader have inferred from what Luke wrote?

A logical inference would be that Bethlehem was Joseph’s “own city” because he had a contemporary connection with Bethlehem, because “he was of the house and lineage of David.” In other words, it was his place of residence because he was a Davidite.

And that would not be surprising. Inheritance was very important in ancient Israel. The whole land was an inheritance from God (Exod. 32:13), and each tribe inherited a particular portion of land (Num. 34:18). This area had to be preserved, and parcels of land could not be transferred from one tribe to another (Num. 36:1-9). Parcels could only be temporarily “sold” (really, leased) to another person, and the owner got it back in the Jubilee year (Lev. 25:13-16). This included houses in unwalled cities like Bethlehem (Lev. 25:31).

All this created a legal framework that that tended to stabilize the possession of properties within particular families. This had the effect of anchoring the family of David in Bethlehem, and so there were Davidites there. We’re thus meant to understand that, because Joseph was of the family of David, he had a residence there—a home. In fact, it was his primary residence.

How, then, are we to explain Luke’s statement just a few verses later?

And when they had performed everything according to the law of the Lord, they returned into Galilee, to their own city, Nazareth (Luke 2:39).

This is at the end of Luke’s birth narrative, and so it is meant to be read in context of what has preceded it. The logical inference that Luke would expect his readers to make is that Nazareth was also Joseph and Mary’s “own city.”

In other words, they had two residences: Joseph’s residence in Bethlehem and their joint residence in Nazareth.

Why would they have two residences? Were they rich? Far from it. Luke relates that when they made the post-childbirth sacrifice for Mary, they offered “a pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons” (Luke 2:24). That was the offering prescribed for a poor woman who could not afford a sheep (Lev. 12:8).

We thus should not imagine that Joseph and Mary were rich and had two opulent homes. Instead, we should infer that their dual residency was a situation based on economic necessity.

Even today, many people have to live away from their family homes in order to find work, and they don’t just stay out on the streets. They find some kind of accommodation where the work is, but they still consider their family home their primary residence, and they travel back to it periodically. Usually, there are other family members there on a permanent basis. This is a pattern that happens in countries all over the world.

To cite just one example, if a couple is native to Sinaloa, Mexico but comes to Arizona to find work, they’ll have some kind of residence in Arizona and their primary, family residence in Sinaloa. The same is true of those who migrate for work elsewhere in the Americas, in Africa, Asia, the Philippines, and in the Middle East.

I’ve written about this before, but the logical inference that Luke would expect his readers to draw from this data is that Joseph had a residence in Bethlehem, which was his primary, legal residence (in keeping with Jewish property inheritance practices), so that’s where he went for the enrollment. However, for economic reasons he spent most of his time in Nazareth and also maintained a no-doubt humble residence there.

No mockery is warranted. This all makes perfect sense if you read what Luke says and interpret it sensibly.

BONUS! Click here for information about the “no room in the inn” verse?

What Does the Church Teach About Pet Euthanasia? (Dangerous Pets)

Mean little dog

A correspondent writes:

On what grounds may a pet be euthanized?

We have an adopted dog that is highly destructive, more than we are willing to support financially, and more than we can manage with our limited time and attention. We are afraid for our one-year-old child’s safety, as the dog plays rough and has injured both my wife and me. The dog is confined to a kennel most of the day, since we cannot supervise and control him to prevent damage. We do not feel we can provide a good quality of life for this animal.

Day-training and boarding-school are not feasible, since the dog cannot ride in a car. We are not willing to pay for an expensive in-home behaviorist. We don’t have the time or expertise to train him ourselves.

We have tried re-homing the dog for months now. The foster family we got him from will not take him back. The local shelters will not take him as they are all at full capacity. Family, friends, and coworkers will not take him. We posted him on a couple of re-homing websites, with no success. We believe his chances of re-adoption are low due to his behavior and a pre-existing health condition.

We regret our decision to adopt this dog. We do not want to have an otherwise healthy dog put to sleep. But we do not know what else to do. We do not believe we are acting out of frustration alone. We are trying to consider what is best for our family’s wellbeing. Above all, we want to do what is right in the sight of God. If we are about to do something evil, we want to know it. So far, we have not found any clear teaching from the Church.

Can you help us?

I believe that I can.

According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church:

2415 The seventh commandment enjoins respect for the integrity of creation. Animals, like plants and inanimate beings, are by nature destined for the common good of past, present, and future humanity

2417 God entrusted animals to the stewardship of those whom he created in his own image. Hence it is legitimate to use animals for food and clothing. They may be domesticated to help man in his work and leisure.

2418 It is contrary to human dignity to cause animals to suffer or die needlessly. It is likewise unworthy to spend money on them that should as a priority go to the relief of human misery. One can love animals; one should not direct to them the affection due only to persons.

These passages do not directly address your question, but they do contain the principles that provide its solution.

Animals do not have rights the way humans do. Consequently, they are “by nature destined for the . . . good . . . of humanity” (2415).

“God entrusted animals to [our] stewardship. . . . Hence it is legitimate to use them for food” (2417), meaning it is legitimate to terminate their lives when human need requires it.

While “it is contrary to human dignity to cause animals to suffer or die needlessly,” this is not the case when there is a human need requiring their death and it is “unworthy to spend money on them that should as a priority go to” human needs. Consequently, “one should not direct to them the affection due only to persons” (2418).

In your case, the animal is dangerous, it has already injured you and your wife, and you have a vulnerable child that it may injure. You have not been able to re-home it, and you do not have money to reasonably spend on alternative solutions (e.g., an animal behaviorist). At present, the dog is spending most of its time in a kennel for safety reasons, meaning it is not having a good quality of life, either.

In light of the principles and circumstances just described–and the lengths you’ve already gone to to try to find an alternative solution–Catholic moral theology would understand the decision to have the animal put to sleep. It would not be something evil. In light of the circumstances you describe, it sounds like it would be the best solution, even if it is a regrettable one.

For what it’s worth, a similar situation happened in my own family when I was a child. We adopted a dog that had been largely raised without human company, it was quite aggressive, and it attacked and harmed my little sister. My parents made the decision to have the dog put to sleep. This pained me as a child, but as an adult, I understand the decision they made.

Bottom line: We are not required to keep dangerous pets, and if there are no better solutions, they can be treated like other dangerous animals and put to sleep.

I hope this helps, and God bless you!

Can Science Reverse Death?

Popular Mechanics recently re-shared an article on social media with the audacious title, “A Groundbreaking Scientific Discovery Shows that We Can Reverse Death.” Is that true?

It depends on how you understand death. In the old days, it was relatively easy to determine whether someone was dead: he stopped breathing and his pulse disappeared.

That was a useful way of determining death because breathing is necessary to get oxygen to the blood, and a beating heart is necessary to push oxygen-laded blood to the cells of the body. Without that happening, every cell in the body would die.

Of course, mistakes could be made. Someone might be breathing really shallowly, and he might have only a faint pulse, but if he really stopped breathing and his heart really stopped, he was dead. End of story.

Things got more complex in the twentieth century. Techniques became available to keep someone breathing and to restart his heart.

In the 1950s, ventilators were introduced. These are machines that act like bellows to move air in and out of the lungs.

Also in the 1950s, the first (external) mechanical hearts became available, and by 1960, cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) could help keep blood moving during a cardiac arrest, adrenaline could encourage the heart to resume beating, and defibrillators could hopefully shock it back into a normal rhythm.

All this raised the question of whether people who met the previous definition of death (no breathing and no heartbeat) should be considered dead.

By the late 1960s, a new criterion was proposed: absence of brain activity. This could make sense because a functioning brain was needed to keep things like breathing and hearts going without mechanical aid.

So perhaps—some reasoned—if the brain was no longer working, if the patient was “brain dead,” you could forego artificial respiration and heart stimulation and treat the patient as dead.

This meant you could harvest his organs, if he was an organ donor—including his precious heart. The first successful heart transplant took place in 1967, so maybe someone else could use the organ if the donor was brain dead.

There has been a lively debate about whether lack of brain activity should be used to define death, and advocates of brain death as the key criterion have won a lot of converts to their view.

At the same time, there have been concerns that doctors have been defining brain death in a loosey-goosey way, such as merely being in a persistent vegetative state rather than truly and permanently lacking brain function. This would let them take more people off life-support—freeing up medical resources—and harvest organs from more people.

Personally, I am not at all convinced that the brain death criterion is adequately defined—or applied—today, and so a person who is actually still alive may be killed by the removal of their heart for a transplant. Consequently, I have not agreed to donate my organs on my driver’s license.

While the brain death debate has been going on, the concept of death has begun to be questioned on a new front: the cellular level. Hypothetically, one could argue that a person’s body isn’t fully dead unless all of the cells in it have died, and things like brain function, respiration, and heart action are just things needed to keep the cells alive.

We thus might be able to help save more people if we could intervene to keep their cells alive long enough to fix whatever is wrong with their brain, lungs, heart, or other organs.

The Popular Mechanics article discusses a team of researchers who have been working on how to support the cells of the body when critical organs are not functioning. They call this system OrganEx, and preliminary trials on pigs have been successful, though human trials are still years off.

Other advances are also being made. It turns out that, if a person’s body and brain are cooled down in the right way, they can be brought back to normal functioning as much as six hours after cardiac arrest has occurred (see Sam Parnia, Erasing Death: The Science That Is Rewriting the Boundaries Between Life and Death).

We also now have implantable artificial hearts, and—though they aren’t yet as convenient and reliable as the one the biological version of Captain Picard had on Star Trek—we’re approaching the point where not having a functioning human heart may no longer be useful as a criterion for irreversible death.

What all of these advances have done is make death—which used to look like a simple either-or state—to look more like a process, and a process that in many cases can be reversed.

As medicine continues to advance, we may expect it to become more and more reversible, which will make it more challenging to define precisely when “final” death occurs.

Why Didn’t Jesus Defend Himself Before Pontius Pilate?

Readers of the four Gospels are struck by the fact that—when Jesus appears before the Roman governor Pontius Pilate—he says nothing in his own defense.

This isn’t just surprising to us; it also was striking to Pilate himself. We’re told:

Pilate said to him, “Do you not hear how many things they testify against you?”

But he gave him no answer, not even to a single charge; so that the governor wondered greatly (Matt. 27:13-14).

What should we make of Jesus’ silence? There have been many proposals.

During his trial, Jesus has been silent, a fact that has no genuine analogies in Greek, Roman, or later Christian trials. Jesus’ silence has often been explained with reference to the silence of the Suffering Servant in Isaiah 53:7 (with whom Jesus is thus identified), but Mark and the other Gospel writers do not alert their readers that such an allusion is intended; or with the silence of the righteous sufferer (Pss 38:14–16; 39:9); as fulfilment of Psalm 22:15; as a reflection of Jesus’ portrayal as a sage or teacher of wisdom; as an expression of self-control and perhaps nobility; as Jesus proving that he is in command or showing his contempt for those who sit in judgment over him; or as showing that he is the eschatological judge before the final verdict (Eckhard Schnabel, Mark: An Introduction and Commentary, at 14:60-61a).

But what’s the real explanation?

It helps to note that his appearance before Pilate is not the first time Jesus has been silent. A few hours earlier, when he appeared before the Jewish ruling council, he was similarly quiet:

Now the chief priests and the whole council sought testimony against Jesus to put him to death; but they found none. For many bore false witness against him, and their witness did not agree.

And some stood up and bore false witness against him, saying, “We heard him say, ‘I will destroy this temple that is made with hands, and in three days I will build another, not made with hands.’” Yet not even so did their testimony agree.

And the high priest stood up in their midst, and asked Jesus, “Have you no answer to make? What is it that these men testify against you?”

But he was silent and made no answer (Mark 14:55-61a).

However, there was one thing that did prompt Jesus to make a response:

Again the high priest asked him, “Are you the Christ, the Son of the Blessed?”

And Jesus said, “I am; and you will see the Son of man sitting at the right hand of Power, and coming with the clouds of heaven” (Mark 14:61b-62).

From this we see that Jesus apparently isn’t interested in responding to the charges made against him—even false ones like him saying that he would destroy the temple—but there is one thing he is interested in answering: the question of his identity.

When directly asked if he is the Christ, the “Son of the Blessed” (i.e., the Son of God), he responds straightforwardly: “I am.” He then identifies himself with the heavenly “Son of Man” figure from Daniel 7:13-14, who was given everlasting dominion over all peoples by God.

At the time, this figure was believed by some Jews to be a divine person who was sometimes referred to as “the lesser Yahweh,” and Jesus’ identification of himself with this figure was regarded by the high priest as blasphemy, so he tore his robes (Mark 14:63-64).

Jesus’ silence before the council on everything except one point is then replicated when he is brought before Pilate:

Pilate asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?”

And he answered him, “You have said so.”

And the chief priests accused him of many things. And Pilate again asked him, “Have you no answer to make? See how many charges they bring against you.”

But Jesus made no further answer, so that Pilate wondered (Mark 14:2-5).

Here again, Jesus is willing to address one question: the issue of his identity. When asked if he is king of the Jews, he responds affirmatively but somewhat cryptically. He could have simply said, “I am”—just as he did when the high priest asked if he was the Christ—the Jewish Messiah—who was understood as a coming king of the Jews.

However, here he says, “You have said so.” This is an acknowledgement that he does have that role, but he’s being cautious for a reason that we will come back to.

Other than this one point, however, Jesus does not respond to any of the other things said against him. Mark does not tell us what the charges were, but Luke fills at least some of them in:

They began to accuse him, saying, “We found this man perverting our nation, and forbidding us to give tribute to Caesar, and saying that he himself is Christ a king. . . . He stirs up the people, teaching throughout all Judea, from Galilee even to this place.” (Luke 23:2-5).

Jesus had no interest in responding to these charges—including the false one that he forbade paying taxes to Caesar (in fact, he had done the exact opposite; Mark 12:17, Luke 20:25).

When Pilate heard that Jesus was Galilean, he then sent him to Herod Antipas, but here again, Jesus was silent:

When Herod saw Jesus, he was very glad, for he had long desired to see him, because he had heard about him, and he was hoping to see some sign done by him. So he questioned him at some length; but he made no answer. The chief priests and the scribes stood by, vehemently accusing him (Luke 23:8-10).

Apparently—unlike the high priest and Pilate—Herod did not raise the issue of Jesus’ identity in a direct enough way, and he ignored the accusations being made.

So what’s the reason for his silence? The answer is found by looking at Jesus’ recent actions.

Jesus has already made three major predictions of his coming death and resurrection (Mark 8:31, 9:30-31; 10:33-34), the most explicit of which is the final one:

Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem; and the Son of man will be delivered to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death, and deliver him to the Gentiles; and they will mock him, and spit upon him, and scourge him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise (Mark 10:33-34).

He thus foresaw that—upon going to Jerusalem—he would be taken into custody by the Jewish authorities, turned over to the Romans, and be sentenced to death.

Upon arriving at Jerusalem, he fulfilled a messianic prophecy from Zechariah 9:9 by triumphantly riding the foal of a donkey into the city, depicting himself as the king of Jerusalem described in Zechariah, and being proclaimed by the joyful crowd as “the king of Israel” (John 12:13), “the king who comes in the name of the Lord” (Luke 19:38), and “the Son of David” (Matt. 21:9). He even refused to silence the crowd when urged to do so by the Pharisees (Luke 19:39-40).

Then he set himself on a collision course with the Jewish temple authorities by driving out of the temple those who bought and sold sacrificial animals and by overturning the tables of the moneychangers (Matt. 21:12-13, Mark 11:15-17, Luke 19:45-46; cf. John 2:14-22).

He was then arrested, tried by the Jewish council, and delivered to Pilate for execution—just as his passion predictions indicate he had planned.

This gives us the key to understanding both Jesus’ silence and his responses to the question of his identity.

He is silent to the charges against him because he is here to die. He is not interested in defending himself against false charges like saying he would destroy the temple or that one should not pay taxes to Caesar. His disciples knew the truth about these matters, but he isn’t interested in convincing the authorities of his innocence. He’s planning on being put to death.

His silence also may be a fulfillment of messianic prophecies, such as Isaiah’s statement about the Suffering Servant:

He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth (Isa. 53:7).

However, fundamentally he is here to die and therefore he needs to be convicted of something that carries the death penalty.

This is why he responds on the question of his identity when the high priest asks if he is the Christ. He frankly says, “I am.” However, claiming to be the Messiah was not guaranteed to be regarded as a crime by the Jewish council, so Jesus does not leave it there: he also claims to be a divine figure, the Son of Man, which he knows that the high priest will regard as blasphemy and worthy of death.

However, claiming to be a divine figure was not necessarily a crime to the Romans. Their emperors—among others—were popularly regarded as divine, and Pilate likely would not have known about the Jewish Son of Man, anyway, so he drops this part in front of Pilate.

Instead, when Pilate asks him if he is king of the Jews, he acknowledges this but in a cryptic way that gives him what we now call “plausible deniability”—i.e., you’ve said that I’m the king of the Jews; I haven’t said that.

John clarifies that Jesus even told Pilate that “My kingship is not of this world” (John 18:36)—indicating that he isn’t interested in political power and thus not interested in challenging the authority of Caesar, who then held the authority to appoint Jewish kings.

Pilate thus emerges from his conference with Jesus and tells the Jewish authorities that he doesn’t find Jesus guilty of any crime, which causes the authorities to stir up the crowd to demand Jesus’ execution, and Pilate finally capitulates.

Jesus thus gives Pilate only an acknowledgement of his royal status, but it’s cryptic and he clarifies that he’s not interested in political power.

This makes it appear that Jesus wanted responsibility for his execution to ultimately fall on the Jewish authorities, in accordance with messianic prophecy. As Jesus himself said:

Have you not read this Scripture: “The very stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord’s doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes”? (Mark 12:10-11; quoting Psalm 118:22-23).

We thus see Jesus performing a complex set of maneuvers in order to fulfill his mission: He is silent against false charges because he is here to die; he says enough to the Jewish authorities to bring about his conviction; he is truthful with the Roman authorities about his lack of interest in worldly rule; and ultimately it is the action of the Jewish authorities that causes Pilate to capitulate and order his execution—in accordance with the prophecy that the Jewish authorities (the builders) would reject Jesus (the stone).