If Jesus Were Dead, He’d Be Turning Over in His Grave

SDG here with a numbingly depressing note about how representatives of two ancient Christian communities spent yesterday, Palm Sunday of Holy Week on the Julian calendar used by many Eastern Churches. Here’s the lede:

JERUSALEM —  Dozens of Greek and Armenian priests and worshippers exchanged blows in Christianity’s holiest shrine on Palm Sunday, and pummeled police with palm fronds when they tried to break up the brawl.

The "holiest shrine" in question would be the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. So, yeah, in honor of the beginning of Holy Week, on the day of Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem, dozens of Christian priests and worshipers brawled at the site of Our Lord’s victory over death and evil — and pummeled police with palm fronds.

With palm fronds. Christopher Hitchens couldn’t have scripted it better. Or James Carroll, for that matter (talk about Constantine’s sword). Here’s ashes in your eye, brother! I’ve got an olive branch and I’m not afraid to use it! Think of Charlton Heston’s John the Baptist in The Greatest Story Ever Told, combat-baptizing the Herodian soldiers trying to arrest him, thundering "Repent! Repent!" while forcibly ducking them in the Jordan — and weep, for the accidental parody is hardly more absurd than the reality.

Yesterday was also, incidentally, the last day of Pope Benedict XIV’s visit to the United States. I can imagine someone supposing that I as a Romanist might derive some sort of satisfaction from the spectacle of two separated Eastern communities brawling on the other side of the world. Nothing could be further from the truth. It depresses the snot out of me. Partisan churchmanship has no place here of all places. The shame is all of ours. I would almost rather let Hitchens have his way and demolish the site altogether, denying it to us all rather than seeing Jesus’ will for unity mocked and defied at the very site of His victory.

Almost. The Sepulchre belongs to all future generations of Christians, and our failure to follow Christ now is no license to deny them their patrimony. But dang, it’s galling.

Added: A further twist of the knife: Although Catholic, Greek and Armenian communities uneasily coexist at the Holy Sepulchre, none of them controls the main entrance. Instead, two local Muslim families retain the keys, and come twice a day to open and close the doors. This has apparently been the situation for centuries. I’ve heard it said that the Muslims retain custody of the entrance to keep peace among the Christian communities; and while that might be an excuse, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were truth in it too. God help us.

Ut unum sint, Lord. That they may be one.

Get the (depressing) story.

Constantine’s Sword… or James Carroll’s Axe?

While Pope Benedict rocks New York in his own comparatively low-key fashion, a documentary adaptation of ex-priest James P. Carroll’s Constantine’s Sword, which takes a few jabs at B16, opens even more quietly in the Big Apple.

Your Decent Films guy is on the case. GET THE STORY.

P.S. YHT to Heart, Mind & Strength host Greg Popcak for the sound bite in the post title.

A Pope for the Internet Age?

Pope Benedict’s trip to the United States is obviously a focus of attention right now.

I’d like to CHT the reader who e-mailed a link to THIS STORY by Peggy Noonan.

In it, she reflects on the personal styles of JP2 and B16, and offers a number of insights, among them this:

A Vatican reporter last week said John Paul was the perfect pope for the television age, "a man of images." Think of the pictures of him storm-tossed, tempest-tossed, standing somewhere and leaning into a heavy wind, his robes whipping behind him, holding on to his crosier, the staff bearing the image of a crucified Christ, with both hands, for dear life, as if consciously giving Christians a picture of what it is to be alive.

Benedict, the reporter noted, is the perfect pope for the Internet age. He is a man of the word. You download the text of what he said, print it, ponder it.

Actually, I don’t print it. I have my text-to-speech engine read it to me and then ponder it, but I get the idea.

Now if the Holy See would only get the perfect web site for the Internet age.

Unfortunately, not everyone is as appreciative of B16 as Mrs. Noonan.

Stephen Prothero, the Chair of the Department of Religion for Jesuit-run Boston College, for example, ISN’T:

Young American Catholics treated John Paul II like a rock star. Yes, he was socially and theologically conservative, but at least they could relate to the guy with the "Popemobile" and the smile and the energy to travel to some 130 countries during his 26 years at the Holy See. But can they relate to Benedict XVI? And can he relate to them? What can a pope who is an academic theologian first and foremost offer young Americans, save for dogmas they don’t believe in and rituals they do not understand? Is he coming to scold us? Or to hug us?

We are about to find out.

Actually, someone should scold Stephen Prothero, but it should be someone other than B16.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, there’s LOTS OF COVERAGE OF THE PAPAL VISIT FROM EWTN.

SDG family narrowly avoids Orlando shooting!

By, like, two days. Exactly two days, actually. Also, the greater danger would seem to have been from trampling rather than flying lead. But still.

Apparently, a Sunday afternoon of disorderly teen behavior at non–Mouse affiliated Orlando water park Wet ’n Wild ended in a shooting yesterday.

The gun used may or may not have been a .22 recovered at the scene; a leg wound, not serious, was sustained by a teen. (Writing this sentence, I’m reminded that Amanda Shaw at the First Things recently blogged excerpts from a style catalogue once given to Ernest Hemingway, recommendations from which include commending “He suffered a broken leg in a fall” over “he broke his leg in a fall,” in part on the grounds that “presumably the man has two legs” and so “a leg” is preferable to “his leg.” I tried to apply this logic here, with rather unsatisfactory results, since my sentence now fails to specify that the teen was shot, rather than, say, skinning his — er, a — knee in a fall. Suggestions for improvements are welcome.)

One or two shots were fired, and the shooting victim’s brother was also struck in the lip by something, but it could have been a rock. Also, “[e]veryone was running and people were trampled.”

Not ordinarily the sort of thing I would note at JA.o, except for one thing: My family and I were at Wet ’n Wild exactly 48 hours earlier — all Friday afternoon, in fact — on the last day of our week-long Orlando vacation (about which more later).

FWIW, I didn’t notice any rowdy teen behavior on Friday. As far as I know, the only noteworthy visitor phenomena that day was an Assemblies of God convention that had the park rented for private use after hours, but although I was actually in the park as much as 30 minutes after the official closing, I didn’t personally witness any rowdy charismatic phenomena such as slaying in the Spirit or anything.

In other brushes with amusement-park mayhem, my sister was at Six Flags Great Adventure on the very same day in 1984 as the fatal Haunted Castle fire that killed eight teenagers. (My father at work heard the news about the fatal fire on television and called home to make sure my sister was safe.)

On an earlier Six Flags outing, in the same Haunted Castle, I was mugged, but a friend was carrying my money and so I didn’t lose anything. Coincidentally, there was also an Assemblies of God youth group at Six Flags on that day — I remember because I was one of them. (Those A/G folks sure do like their amusement parks.)

Anyway, the Wet ’n Wild thing being a rather trivial incident, I didn’t feel as weird as I did having taken my (then smaller) family to the top of the Empire State Building and looking at the World Trade Center the week before 9/11.

Well, that’s all I have to say about that.

Get the story (or not).

P.S. Oh, incidentally, for those who may have missed it the first time around, here’s the (rather more exciting) excitement from our last family vacation: The Great Elevator Escape.

Classic Lit Bleg

Perov_dostoevsky_2
Hey, Tim Jones, here.

One thing I have wanted to do for a while is go back and read all the classic Western literature I missed in college. They don’t exactly require a lot of reading from art students (which is a pity) so I feel impoverished in that area.

What I would like is some guidance. If anyone knows a good list of, say, the top 100 works of Western literature (the Must Read stuff), please let me know and provide a link, if you can. Also, please feel free to make your own classic lit recommendations in the combox.

I’m already primed to read a few by Dostoevsky. That’s him, pictured. A portrait by Russian artist Vasily Perov (1834-1882).

(Visit Tim Jones’ blog Old World Swine).

Pope Benedict XVI . . . Now In English!

It’s really cool being able to put the pope directly on your blog, so here goes: B16 as guest blogger.

Here is a video from Pope Benedict introducing his forthcoming visit to the United States.

What’s ultra cool about this, to me anyway, is that I’m hearing the pope speaking in English. I’ve read I don’t know how many documents he’s written, but there is nothing like hearing someone speaking your native language to give you a sense of them on a personal level (even if they are reading from a prepared text, as is the case here).

MORE HERE.

Calling Priests “Father” in English

Since the subject came up in the combox of Jimmy’s post on calling priests "father" in Latin, a few quick thoughts on the subject of the custom of calling priests "father" at all. 

Protestants who object to this practice (not all do object, of course) focus their objections on Jesus’ words in Matthew 23:9. Here’s the passage in context:

[1] Then said Jesus to the crowds and to his disciples,

[2] "The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat;

[3] so practice and observe whatever they tell you, but not what they do; for they preach, but do not practice.

[4] They bind heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on men’s shoulders; but they themselves will not move them with their finger.

[5] They do all their deeds to be seen by men; for they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long,

[6] and they love the place of honor at feasts and the best seats in the synagogues,

[7] and salutations in the market places, and being called rabbi by men.

[8] But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all brethren.

[9] And call no man your father on earth, for you have one Father, who is in heaven.

[10] Neither be called masters, for you have one master, the Christ.

[11] He who is greatest among you shall be your servant;

[12] whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.

How are we to understand this passage? Does Jesus really mean to absolutely forbid his followers to call men "father"? If not, what does he mean? What can we say about this?

As Christians who take the Bible and Jesus’ words seriously, we should be cautious about too quickly or easily concluding "He didn’t really mean what he said." It is certainly true that Jesus’ teaching included a lot of figurative and non-literal language. Classic examples include "I am the door" and "You are the salt of the world." There are also cases where we would likely go astray if we sought literally to follow Jesus words, e.g., cutting off limbs and plucking out eyes in order to avoid sin.

On the other hand, Jesus also meant what he said a lot too, even when some people try to make out that he didn’t really mean it. "Love your enemies," for instance. And "If you do not forgive men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses." There are those who would like to explain away his warnings about the outer darkness and weeping and gnashing of teeth. But he meant that too.

As Catholics, too, we take Jesus literally at points where many or most Protestants spiritualize or otherwise water down his teaching: "My flesh is  food and my blood is real drink," for example. (Note the unusually insistent language: He doesn’t say "I am a real door" or "You are real salt.") And "He who divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery."

What of the present case, "Call no man on earth father"? Is that a dramatic, parabolic expression, or a literal proscription?

Perhaps the first point to note is that it is not only calling men "father" that is discussed here. Verse 9 mentions calling men "father," but the adjacent verses immediately preceding and following, 8 and 10, likewise forbid the titles (translations vary) "teacher" ("rabbi") and "leader" ("master") on the identical grounds that we have one teacher and leader, the Christ. Yet even among Evangelicals that object to the Catholic custom of calling priests "father," it is common to encounter terms like "worship leader" and "Bible teacher."

Of course this doesn’t prove that Jesus didn’t mean what he (literally) said. It could be that Evangelicals and Catholics are both guilty of violating Jesus’ teaching here.

On the other hand, if we do take Jesus’ teaching here as a literal prohibition, it looks like we may also have to ding both St. Paul and St. John for breaking Jesus’ teaching in holy Scripture itself.

St. Paul, speaking to the Corinthians, calls himself a "father" to them (1 Cor 4:15), since he fathered them in the Gospel. It’s true that St. Paul’s usage doesn’t exactly parallel the Catholic usage of calling any priest "father," since St. Paul considers his role in bringing the Corinthians to the Gospel a unique one, and contrasts it with the countless "instructors in Christ" they may have. To follow St. Paul’s usage exactly, we might call a priest "father" who brought us to Christ, but not other priests.

However, the point is not that St. Paul’s usage provides an exact precedent for the Catholic usage. Rather, it is a data point in our effort to understand Jesus’ prohibition on calling men "father." Although Jesus says "call no man on earth father," St. Paul calls himself the Corinthians’ father and encourages them to think of him in that way. At the very least, this suggests that we should not understand the unique divine Fatherhood Jesus cites as excluding any and all spiritual fatherhood on a human level.

Also worth noting is the usage of St. John in 1 John 2:13-14, where he addresses "fathers." Note that throughout the letter John addresses his readers as "children" or "little children," certainly not meaning literal minors only; "childen" is a metaphor, presumably in the same spirit as Jesus’ teaching that we must "become as little children"; similarly, it seems likely that "fathers" is likewise addressed not to biological fathers only, but to elders or leaders in the community, i.e., to spiritual fathers. 

Granting this, however, isn’t the same as explaining Jesus’ words in Matthew 23. Toward this end, let’s consider another passage in Matthew’s Gospel, from the Sermon on the Mount, that I think is similar in construction and spirit, and which in fact addresses the same spiritual condition:

"Beware of practicing your piety before men in order to be seen by them; for then you will have no reward from your Father who is in heaven. Thus, when you give alms, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may be praised by men. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you" (Matthew 6:1-4)

So far so good: but now compare this verse, also from the Sermon on the Mount:

"Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven" (Matthew 5:16)

See the problem? Which is it? Are we to let our light shine before men so that they can see our good works and give glory to our Father in heaven? Or are we to beware of practicing our piety to be seen by men, to the point of giving alms in secret? We can’t possibly do both — at least, not at the same time. Are we supposed to alternate between one and the other? If we make a point of doing good deeds like almsgiving in secret, how can men see our good works and give glory to our Father in heaven?

Interpreted as literal prescriptions of specific acts, Jesus’ teachings here seem flatly contradictory. I think it’s safe to say, though, that the real point of these exhortations is, for one thing, the actual likely consequences in any particular situation, and more importantly the attitude of the heart.

Note how 6:1-4 begins with a warning relating first of all to motive, not action: "Beware of practicing your piety before men in order to be seen by them." What follows is meant, I think, in the spirit of a cautionary parable, a vivid pictoral exhortation addressing the temptation of practicing piety in order to be seen by men: Don’t even let people see what you’re doing; do it in secret, and then your father will reward you.

Not entirely unlike the teachings about chopping off limbs and plucking out eyes, it says, "Prefer this behavior to a sinful alternative." This is not of course meant to suggest that we should not literally do good deeds in secret — we should. But neither is it meant to suggest that doing good deeds in a visible way is necessarily sinful behavior. On the contrary, it can be meritorious behavior, as Matthew 5:16 makes clear.

The structural and thematic similarities of Matthew 6:1-4 and Matthew 23:5-10 are striking. Both begin by explicitly addressing an attitude of the heart, of motive; in Matthew 23 the warning is against the attitude of those who "love the place of honor at feasts and the best seats in the synagogues, and salutations in the market places, and being called rabbi by men." (See also verses 11-12, which return to the theme of humility.)

In both passages, the heart attitude involves aspiring to the honor of men, and in both cases Jesus exhorts us to see where we really stand before our Father in heaven. In Matthew 6:1-4, we are urged to aspire to the honor of God; in Matthew 23:5-10 we are urged to remember that God’s honor is unique.

Finally, in both passages Jesus exhorts a course of action contrary to this temptation: Don’t even use titles like teacher, father or leader, for only the Christ is your teacher and leader, and only God is your Father. Like the exhortation not to let men see our good deeds, I take this as a vivid pictoral or parabolic example dramatizing the humility we are meant to have. It is not meant actually to forbid us to use titles like teacher, father and leader, any more than Matthew 6:1-4 is meant to forbid us to do good deeds in a visible way, as long as our motives are right.

What would make the parallel complete, of course, would be if we had a countervailing example elsewhere in Jesus’ teaching, in which, say, he exhorts those who are teachers, or fathers, or leaders to glorify God through their carrying out of their responsibilities.

Lacking that, though, the examples of 1 Cor 4:15 and 1 John 2:13-14 seem to me to suffice to establish that there is nothing per se wrong with calling or being called father (or teacher or leader), as opposed to loving the honor of such titles.

Calling Priests “Father” In Latin

They don’t.

Call priests "Father" in Latin, that is.

This is a fact that came to my attention recently when I was reading a volume of Roman Replies and CLSA Advisory Opinions (a canon law journal that prints what its name indicates) that had a revision from the reign of John Paul II of the rescript of laicization that is given to priests who are returned to the lay state (in terms of how they function in the Church; they still remain priests ontologically).

The revision was notable in that it allowed bishops to do things like, after a period of time, allow the ex-priest to serve as a lector or an extraordinary minister of Holy Communion.

What caught my attention, though, was the way the document refers to the priest.

In the English translation, it says something like "Father _____________ of the Diocese of ______________ is hereby . . . blah, blah, blah, etc."

But in the original Latin, it doesn’t say the Latin equivalent of "Father _____________," which would be "Pater _____________."

Instead, it said, "D.nus _____________."

D.nus?

I recognized that as almost certainly an abbreviation for "Dominus" or "Lord," which is a title that is still used for clergy in Latin, as it is in some countries (like England) as a title for nobility.

Thus when B16 was elected, Cardinal Jorge Medina Estevez announced:

« Fratelli e sorelle carissimi ! ¡ Queridísimos hermanos y hermanas ! Biens chers frères et sœurs ! Liebe Brüder und Schwestern ! Dear brothers and sisters ! Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum : Habemus papam ! Emminentissimum ac reverendissimum dominum, dominum Iosephum, sanctæ romanæ Ecclesiæ cardinalem Ratzinger, qui sibi nomen imposuit Benedicti decimi sexti. »

The blue part would be "Lord Joseph (Cardinal of the holy roman Church) Ratzinger."

(BTW, you can listen to that online HERE. I just love listening to it and recalling that day. I especially like the brief pause before he enthusiastically says "Ratzinger." WHEEEE! I love it. HERE ARE MORE HABEMUS PAPAM RECORDINGS OF OTHER POPES.)

Anyway, after looking at the rescript, I called a friend who is a Latinist and who is well acquainted with Church documents in Latin and asked two questions:

1) Is Dominus the normal honorific used for priests in Church documents.

Yes.

2) Do they use Pater or an synonym?

No.

So it seems that calling priests "Father" is something that happens in vernacular languages like English (Father) or Spanish (Padre) or Arabic (Abunah) but not (at least not typically) in the Church’s official documents.

Interesting.

I said to my friend: "I bet there are a bunch of priests who don’t know they are ‘Lord So-and-So’ in Latin."

My friend: "Let’s not tell them."