This version of The Weekly Benedict covers material released in the last week from 22 July – 3 August 2012 (subscribe here; get as an eBook version for your Kindle, iPod, iPad, Nook, or other eBook reader):
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This version of The Weekly Benedict covers material released in the last week from 22 July – 3 August 2012 (subscribe here; get as an eBook version for your Kindle, iPod, iPad, Nook, or other eBook reader):
Angelus
Messages

Recently I received the question: “Why don’t we call Moses and Elijah ‘Saint'”?
In other words: Why aren’t they referred to as St. Moses and St. Elijah?
After all, we have it on pretty good authority that they are holy and in heaven.
Both Old and New Testament attest to the holiness of both individuals. We have a clear indication that Elijah was taken directly into heaven, without dying, and while Moses did die, there’s no serious doubt about his making it to heaven (at least after heaven was generally opened to the righteous of the Old Testament).
Most impressively, both Moses and Elijah get to appear with Jesus in the Transfiguration.
That’s kind of a giveaway.
So why don’t we call them saints?
A basic answer would be that we tend not to use the honorific “Saint” for human beings who lived in the Old Testament period.
We do use it for angels we read about in the Old Testament–St. Michael, St. Gabriel, St. Raphael–but not human beings.
That is probably just an artifact of how the term “Saint” evolved. Originally it was an adjective, meaning “holy” (Latin, sanctus). People started prefixing it to the names of notably holy individuals (holy Peter, holy Paul), and eventually it came to be used as an honorific–like “Mister” or “Doctor” (thus St. Peter, St. Paul).
But for whatever reason, people tended not to do this for Old Testament figures.
Perhaps this was because holy figures of the Old Testament were thought to already be sufficiently hallowed by their inclusion in Scripture–although that would not explain why the apostles and other New Testament figures got the title “Saint.”
More likely, Old Testament figures were seen as less directly relevant as examples to Christians, because they lived before the Christian age. Those living in the Christian age, like the apostles and later saints, are more like us and thus more direct examples for us in a certain sense.
However that may be, Old Testament figures were generally not called “Saint.”
But sometimes they were. . . .
The Latin Church maintains an official list of saints and blesseds known as the Roman Martyrology, and it actually lists some humans from the Old Testament, including Moses and Elijah.
Here is part of the entry for September 4:
On Mount Nebo, in the land of Moab, [was the death of] the holy lawgiver and prophet Moses.
And here is part of the entry for July 20:
On Mount Carmel, [was the departure of] the holy prophet Elijah.
The Roman Martyrology, of course, is in Latin, and the translation offered above is accomodated to standard English usage, which avoids using “Saint” for Moses and Elijah. The Latin original is a bit different.
Here is the Latin for these two entries, along with a more word-for-word translation:
In monte Nebo, terræ Moab, sancti Móysis, legislatóris et Prophétæ.
On Mt. Nebo, of the land of Moab, [was the death] of saint Moses, lawgiver and Prophet.
In monte Carmélo sancti Elíæ Prophétæ.
On Mt. Carmel [was the departure] of saint Elijah the Prophet.
This is the same construction that is used to report the deaths of other saints in the Matyrology. For example, a bit later on September 4th, we read:
Tréviris sancti Marcélli, Epíscopi et Mártyris.
Which would be:
At Treves [was the death] of saint Marcellus, Bishop and Martyr.
You might note that the term “saint” is lower-case in the Latin, and you might argue from that that it should be translated as an adjective–“holy”–but the point is that the Martyrology is applying to Moses and Elijah the same terminology that it applies to other saints.
It’s listing them in the same way, despite the fact that they’re Old Testament figures.
And then there’s this . . .
English and Latin aren’t the only two languages in the Church, and the Latin Church isn’t the only body in union with the pope. Consider, for example, the Chaldean Church, which is one of the Eastern Catholic churches.
It uses a dialect of Aramaic as its liturgical language, and it refers to Moses and Elijah as saints, using the standard Aramatic term fors “saint”–“mar”–as a title for both of them.
They are referred to as “Mar Musa” (St. Moses) and “Mar Elia” (St. Elijah).
You will find various Chaldean institutions, like churches and monasteries, named after them the same way you find them named after other saints.
And Mar Musa and Mar Elia don’t just have particular days celebrating them on the Chaldean liturgical calendar. They actually have liturgical seasons devoted to them.
I should note that the term “mar” also has other meanings. Its root meaning is “lord.” And you can see it in the term “maranatha” (Marana tha = “Our Lord, come!”).
By extension it also is used as a title for saints, as with Mar Musa, Mar Elia, and all the other saints honored in the Chaldean Church.
Finally, it is also used as a title for bishops, but nobody is under the impression that Moses and Elijah were bishops.
We thus have to be a bit careful about who the “we” is when we ask why we don’t refer to Moses and Elijah as saints.
Some of us do, because the practice can vary from one language to another and from one Catholic rite to another.
Awesome!
I just received a new endorsement for the Secret Information Club from Deacon Harold Burke-Sivers (“the Dynamic Deacon”), who writes:
I joined Jimmy Akin’s Secret Information Club a while back, and I thought you might like it.
It’s fun and informative. Jimmy sends out information about the Catholic faith and makes it easier to understand.
Tell him the deacon sent you!
Deacon Harold Burke-Sivers
www.DeaconHarold.com
I’m always delighted when fellow Catholic professionals recognize the effort I’m putting into the Secret Information Club and trying to make it fun and informative for everyone.
Thank you, Deacon Harold!
If you’d like to see what “the Dynamic Deacon” is talking about, be sure to check out www.SecretInfoClub.com or just sign up using this handy signup form:
I had a question that I needed to ask you. I just found out that the owner of Chick-Fil-A stated that he was against Gay Marriage. Personally, I agree with him, yet when I told someone on the Chick-Fil-A Facebook page that being against Gay Marriage isn’t the same as being “Anti-Gay”, they ended up calling me a “Hateful bigot”.
Does being against Gay Marriage automatically make me a hateful person or oppressive person?
I don’t try to hate anyone and I don’t want to be seen as hateful by others. I just feel conflicted. If you can help me understand how to resolve this conflicted feeling that I’m currently having, I would be very thankful!
It is difficult to know what to say the first time one encounters this type of claim, which is regrettably common.
Hatred and bigotry are real phenomena. They really exist. And they are evil.
It is natural to want to avoid them and to want to avoid being perceived as committing them. That is true in everywhere, but it is particularly true in our own culture, which highly prizes tolerance, understanding, and letting people “do their own thing.”
Precisely because there is such a strong aversion to these things in our culture, there is a perverse phenomenon that also occurs in which charges of hatred, bigotry, and intolerance are used to perversely express and create intolerance.
This occurs when accusing someone of these faults is done as a way of shutting down rational discussion, of stifling disagreement, and of wounding (emotionally or socially) the one against whom the charges are made.
People who make blanket charges of hatred, bigotry, and intolerance are themselves being intolerant, displaying bigotry, and may even be hateful.
Why do I say this?

Anyone starting to read the Bible for the first time quickly encounters a frustration: Why are these books, which have strange sounding names, organized this way?
It seems maddening. They aren’t organized in any familiar way. It’s not alphabetical. It’s not chronological. It’s not topical. It’s not by author. It’s not any familiar way of organizing books.
Actually, and even more maddeningly, the organization seems to change at different times between chronology, topic, and author, but it won’t stick to any one scheme. And then there are sequences that just seem mystifying.
But there is a hidden plan within the Bible’s Table of Contents. So let’s take a look at why they are organized the way they are.
Here we will look at how the New Testament books are organized.
The biggest organizational division in the New Testament is between those books that are of a historical nature–meaning, the have recording historical events as their primary purpose–and those books that don’t.
Into the first category are the Gospels and the book of Acts and into the second category go everything else.
The historical books are placed first in the New Testament because they describe the founding of the Christian faith. All of the other books, which are written in the form of letters, are placed afterward, so that if you are reading your way through the New Testament you will be able to better understand them after you’ve learned about the foundational events of the faith. Plunging into the letters (epistles) without a grounding in the gospel story would be regarded as a serious mistake.
Among the historical books, the Gospels come first, because they deal with the beginning of the Christian story–the life of Jesus Christ, his ministry, and his death and resurrection.
The book of Acts comes later, because it deals with later historical events, focusing on what happened after the earthly ministry of Christ.

Within the Gospels, why are they placed in the order they are?
The basic reason is that this is the order that, for much of Church history, this is the order people thought they were written in. In his Harmony of the Gospels, St. Augustine explains:
Now, those four evangelists whose names have gained the most remarkable circulation over the whole world, and whose number has been fixed as four—it may be for the simple reason that there are four divisions of that world through the universal length of which they, by their number as by a kind of mystical sign, indicated the advancing extension of the Church of Christ—are believed to have written in the order which follows: first Matthew, then Mark, thirdly Luke, lastly John Harmony of the Gospels I:2:3).
This opinion was not universal in the early Church. Indeed, Eusebius reports concerning Clement of Alexandria:
The Gospels containing the genealogies [i.e., Matthew and Luke], he says, were written first [Ecclesiastical History: 6:14:6].
Clement lived earlier than Augustine, and so his represents earlier testimony, but it was Augustine’s opinion that came to dominate.
Most modern scholars think that the order in which the Gospels were composed was actually different, but that discussion would take us too far afield.
For now suffice it to say that the reason the Gospels are organized the way that they are was because that was historically the dominant view of the order in which they were written.
All of the books after Acts are written in the form of letters, which means that they technically qualify as epistles. How are these organized?
For the most part, they are organized by author, like this:
You’ll notice that Revelation is separated from the epistles attributed to John. You could explain this by the fact that Revelation deals (in part) with the end of the world, making it a fitting end piece for the Bible, but that’s not the whole story.
It would not explain why Jude comes directly before Revelation, separating it from the other epistles of John. Why not just put Jude before the epistles of John and letting them lead directly into Revelation?
The reason seems to have to do with the order in which the books became popularly received by churches in different areas. Revelation, like a few other books toward the end of the New Testament, was not immediately received as Scripture by everyone, everywhere. Some had doubts about it, and it took a while for the Holy Spirit to guide the Church as a whole into recognizing its inspiration.
Things that people were less sure of tended to get put toward the back of whatever collection they were being included in, with the more certain works first. That’s a phenomenon we’ll see again.

Why do St. Paul’s epistles come first, right after the book of Acts? It’s because he wrote more epistles than anyone else. The other writers penned fewer, and so theirs go later.
Okay, but why are Paul’s epistles arranged the way they are?
The basic division is between those he wrote to churches (Romans through 2 Thessalonians) and those he wrote to individuals (1 Timothy through Philemon), with the book of Hebrews added on at the end.
Why is Hebrews at the end? Because some disputed its scriptural status early on and, as we said before, things that people were less certain of tended to get put in the back of the collection.
Eventually the Church was convinced of the canonicity of Hebrews, and it was included among St. Paul’s writings because it has some similarities to his thought and because the dominant view came to be that he was the one who wrote it. (More recent scholars, including Pope Benedict, think it was written by someone else, but it is still sacred and canonical.)
That explains Hebrews, but what about the epistles to the churches and those to individuals? Why are these two collections organized the way they are?
Believe it or not: Size.
It’s the length of the book that determines where it goes in the collection. The longest ones go first and the shortest last. There are other collections of ancient works organized like that, too. It was a somewhat common way of organizing things in antiquity.
Here are the books with the number of words they contain in the Greek New Testament:
There’s a bit of a hiccup in the pattern with Ephesians coming after Galatians, but size is still the overall criterion. The same applies to the epistles written to individuals:

The Catholic epistles make up the remainder of the New Testament (excepting Revelation, which we’ve already covered).
In different periods of Church history these were arranged several different ways, but the current order is largely dominated by length–just like St. Paul’s epistles–only with individual collections being kept together by author. Here’s the breakdown:
The size pattern explains everything here except why 1 John comes after James and Peter instead of first. If the size rule explained everything then you would expect the author collections to be sequenced John (1-3) > James > Peter (1-2) > Jude, but that’s not what we find in a typical modern New Testament.
So . . . there is some mystery after all.
But there’s also more order than at first meets the eye.

I’m currently writing a book–titled Secret History of the Bible–which will go into this kind of information and more, revealing fascinating facts that bear on how, when, and by whom the Bible was written.
That’s not out yet, though, so until then you might want to check out my Secret Information Club. In fact, if you join then the very first think you’ll get is an “interview” with Pope Benedict about the book of Revelation. (I composed questions and then took the answers from his writings.) It’s fascinating reading, so I hope you’ll check it out.
You should click here to learn more or sign up using this form:
This version of The Weekly Benedict covers material released in the last week from 15 – 16 July 2012 (subscribe here; get as an eBook version for your Kindle, iPod, iPad, Nook, or other eBook reader):
Angelus
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Most scholars today think that the book of Revelation was written around the year A.D. 95, during the reign of the Roman Emperor Domitian.
Historically, though, many thought it was written earlier than that, and there is a surprisingly strong case that the book was written in the late A.D. 60s or the early part of A.D. 70. Let’s take a quick look at the evidence . . .
In Revelation 17, John sees a vision of the Whore of Babylon seated on the beast with seven heads, and he is told:
[9] This calls for a mind with wisdom: the seven heads are seven mountains on which the woman is seated;
[10] they are also seven kings, five of whom have fallen, one is, the other has not yet come, and when he comes he must remain only a little while.
There’s pretty good evidence that the beast represents the Roman empire and that these seven kings represent the line of first century Roman emperors.
If you’d like more information on that subject, check out my videos, Who Is the Beast of Revelation and Who Is the Beast of Revelation (Part Two).
Assuming that identification is accurate, that gives us a pretty strong clue about when the book was written. If five of the kings (emperors) are fallen (dead) and one is (living/reigning) then that means Revelation was written during the reign of the sixth emperor. So which would that be?
Here are two possibilities . . .

Nero certainly fits well with the description of the beast that is given in the book (see the two videos), but there is a possible problem: Julius Caesar was not technically an emperor. He was a dictator (meaning: the Roman Senate voted him the title “dictator”–which was an actual political office back then, before the term came to mean “tyrant”), but he wasn’t voted the title “emperor.”
Still, it’s possible that this might not have made a lot of difference from the perspective of first century Jews and Christians.
Technically, the Roman emperors weren’t kings at all (the Romans were very proud of the fact that they had ended the line of Roman kings and set up a republic), but they functioned as kings, and everybody understood that.
This is why the crowd cried “We have no king but Caesar!” during the trial of Jesus.
So if the count starts with Julius then we have reason to think Revelation was written in the reign of Nero, which was between October 13, A.D. 54 and June 9, A.D. 68.
But there’s another possibility that may be even more likely . . .

I know. You may be saying, “Who?”
Galba isn’t a very famous emperor, and one reason is that he didn’t reign very long. In fact, he reigned only a few months, during a disastrous period known as “the Year of Four Emperors,” in which Rome was torn apart by a series of bloody civil wars in which one emperor toppled another in rapid succession.
But if that’s the case then, since Galba reigned such a short time, we’d actually be able to date the writing of Revelation very precisely.
It would have to be between June 8, A.D. 68 and January 15, A.D. 69. (Galba actually began reigning the day before Nero died, because Nero had been declared an enemy of the state by the Senate and went on the lam before being coerced into committing suicide.)
So it could be that Revelation was written during a very short span in late 68 or (very) early 69.
Is there other evidence that has a bearing on this?

Yes. In fact, it fits both of the possibilities we’ve mentioned.
If Nero was reigning then Nero’s successor, Galba, certainly reigned a short time–just barely over 7 months.
If Galba was reigning then, since he was reigning in the Year of Four Emperors, his own successor–Otho–lasted only a short time as well, just 3 months (from January 15 to April 16, A.D. 69).

[1] Then I was given a measuring rod like a staff, and I was told: “Rise and measure the temple of God and the altar and those who worship there,
[2] but do not measure the court outside the temple; leave that out, for it is given over to the nations, and they will trample over the holy city for forty-two months.
This passage speaks of the Jewish temple in Jerusalem as if it is still standing.
The text speaks of the gentiles (or nations, same word in Greek) trampling the holy city (Jerusalem) and invading the temple courtyard.
They also invaded and destroyed the temple itself, but the text speaks of this as not having happened yet, since John is told to measure the temple, its altar, and those worshipping there. So it was still functioning.
Since the temple was destroyed on August 5, A.D. 70, that also suggests that Revelation was written before this date.
I’m currently writing a book–titled Secret History of the Bible–which will go into this kind of information and more, revealing fascinating facts that bear on how, when, and by whom the Bible was written.
That’s not out just yet though, so until then you might want to check out my Secret Information Club. In fact, if you join then the very first think you’ll get is an “interview” with Pope Benedict about the book of Revelation. (I composed questions and then took the answers from his writings.) It’s fascinating reading, so I hope you’ll check it out.
You should click here to learn more or sign up using this form:

The question of whether women need to wear head coverings (mantillas, chapel veils, etc.) at Mass keeps coming up.
With the greater freedom to celebrate the Extraordinary Form of the liturgy, it poses the question anew, since prior to the current rite of Mass head coverings were required for women.
If a woman is going to an Extraordinary Form Mass, does she have an obligation to wear one, in keeping with the law at the time?
I’ve blogged about the subject before. More than once, in fact.
But the question keeps coming up, and with the new twist based on the broadened permission to celebrate the Extraordinary Form, it’s worth looking into again.
So what’s the answer?
The requirement that women wear head coverings at Mass was part of the 1917 Code of Canon Law, which provided:
Canon 1262
§2. Men, in a church or outside a church, while they are assisting at sacred rites, shall be bare-headed, unless the approved mores of the people or peculiar circumstances of things determine otherwise; women, however, shall have a covered head and be modestly dressed, especially when they approach the table of the Lord.
Notice that this didn’t establish a requirement for any particular form of head covering. It could be a mantilla, a veil, a hat, a scarf, etc.
But when the 1983 Code of Canon Law was released, it provided:
Canon 6
§1. When this Code takes force, the following are abrogated:
1° the Code of Canon Law promulgated in 1917;
Laws which had been part of the 1917 Code, including canon 1262, thus lost their force and the legal requirement was officially ended. (The custom had already fallen into disuse in many places.)
Since it was the 1917 Code and not the Church’s liturgical documents that established the requirement, it would seem that when the 1917 Code lost its force, the obligation ceased for Latin Rite liturgies in general, regardless of whether they were celebrated according to the Ordinary or Extraordinary Form.
But wait . . . what about St. Paul’s mention of them in 1 Corinthians?
If St. Paul’s directive that women wear head coverings were binding today then it would apply to both the Ordinary and the Extraordinary Forms (as well as non-Latin Rite liturgies).
However, in 1976 the Congregation for the Faith dealt with the issue and judged that St. Paul’s directive on this point is not binding. In its declaration on the inadmissibility of women to the ministerial priesthood (Inter Insigniores), the CDF stated:
Another objection is based upon the transitory character that one claims to see today in some of the prescriptions of Saint Paul concerning women, and upon the difficulties that some aspects of his teaching raise in this regard. But it must be noted that these ordinances, probably inspired by the customs of the period, concern scarcely more than disciplinary practices of minor importance, such as the obligation imposed upon women to wear a veil on their head (1 Cor 11:2-16); such requirements no longer have a normative value.
So it would appear that neither canon law nor the Church’s liturgical books nor Scripture establish a requirement that women today must wear head coverings, at either Ordinary or the Extraordinary Form Masses.
Of course, women are still absolutely free to do so, and doing so can be a beautiful expression of devotion.
Given the natural expectations of many people at Extraordinary Form Masses, one can see a certain appropriateness to wearing them in that context.
People there would commonly expect the use of head coverings–precisely because there was an obligation in 1962–and not using them could cause puzzlement or consternation.
Still, it would be nice to have some additional insight on Rome’s thinking into this question, which leads us to . . .
I was pleased recently when I discovered that Cardinal Burke had addressed this question in a private letter that is now available on the EWTN web site.
This letter does not represent an official ruling, but since Cardinal Burke is head of the Holy See’s highest court, the Apostolic Signatura, his opinion carries weight and certainly gives insight on the kind of thinking that Rome applies to these issues. So here is what he said on the subject:
The wearing of a chapel veil for women is not required when women assist at the Holy Mass according to the Ordinary Form of the Roman Rite. It is, however, the expectation that women who assist at the Mass according to the Extraordinary Form cover their heads, as was the practice at the time that the 1962 Missale Romanum was in force. It is not, however, a sin to participate in the Holy Mass according to the Extraordinary Form without a veil.
Cardinal Burke thus seems to envision a middle category of “expectation.” Not a legal requirement. And not something that must be fulfilled on pain of sin. But not a matter of complete indifference, either.
That corresponds to my sense as well. At the Ordinary Form there is neither a requirement nor an expectation that head coverings be used, though women are totally free to do so. And at the Extraordinary Form there is and expectation but not a requirement, certainly not one binding on pain of sin, that they be used.
What do you think?
By the way, if you’re interested in liturgical matters like this, they are one of the topics I cover in my mailings to the Secret Information Club. If you’re interested, you should click here to learn more or sign up using this form:
This version of The Weekly Benedict covers material released in the last week from 22 June – 9 July 2012 (subscribe here; get as an eBook version for your Kindle, iPod, iPad, Nook, or other eBook reader):
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While most scientists don’t like the nickname “God particle” (and while many religious people might not neither), it’s certainly generated a lot of coverage in the media.
Because of the God-based nickname the particle has been given, the discovery of the Higgs has attracted a lot of press attention, and I’ve received quite a number of requests to comment on it.
In this video, I take a look at these and similar questions to give you the basics of the new discovery and what to make of it from a religious perspective.
Before we get to the video, though, here’s a Higgs-related joke (adapted from one I read on the Internet):
A Higgs boson walks into a church. The priest, offended by its nickname of the “God particle,” immediately orders it out.
The Higgs shrugs and turns to leave. “Okay,” it says. “But without me, you can’t have Mass.”
Groan!
At least if you know the basics of what the Higgs boson is supposed to do.
If not, watch the video and find out!
If you’re reading this by email, click here to view the video.
By the way, several of the requests I got for comment came from members of the Secret Information Club. If you’d like to get cool, informative material on a variety of topics from me by email, you should sign up at www.SecretInfoClub.com or just use this handy sign up form:
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