Salvation History in Three Minutes or Less

For those who have trouble keeping straight in their head whether Moses was before or after Jesus, I offer this brief account of salvation history:

In the beginning (and we mean "beginning" in the broadest sense, the sort of beginning that could span billions of years), God created everything, from angels to galaxies to cockroaches, and as creation's crowning achievement, he made human beings, endowed with intellects so they could know God and wills so they could love God and bodies so they could serve God in the material world. Humanity was to live in union with God. But these very first human beings disobeyed God and did the one thing He asked them not to do: they ate the fruit of the forbidden tree, and bit off more than they could chew. Their bond with God was broken by their own actions. So God banished them from paradise, and thus began the long, sad story of human death and misery. But even then God planned, in the fullness of time, to restore humanity to unity with Him.

Part of God's plan was to form humanity by establishing a special relationship with certain human beings, making covenants with them. He made a covenant with Noah that He would never again flood the entire earth and would no longer make war on humanity. He made a covenant with Abraham that He would bring forth from Abraham a holy people, a people set apart as God's own. He made a covenant with Moses to let Israel flourish in the land He would give them if they obeyed his commandments and laws. He made a covenant with David that David's descendants would rule Israel as a shepherd tends his sheep and always enjoy God's favor. And after the time of David, through the fall of the kingdoms of Israel and Judah, through the captivity of the people in Babylon, through their return to their land, the prophets, from Amos to Isaiah to Jeremiah to Malachi, continually proclaimed God's promises of His covenant, assuring the people that they would one day be fulfilled.

Let's put the contents of these covenants together: God promises to have peace with humanity; God promises to make a holy people; God promises that the people will flourish if they obey Him; God promises that the Son of David will lead this people. God fulfilled all of these covenants perfectly when He Himself came to fulfill them. God took flesh and became man in the person of Jesus Christ, and through his life, death, and resurrection, brought peace between God and humanity, made a holy people of those who believe in him (his Church), gave them the sacraments to give them spiritual nourishment and new life, and became the Good Shepherd who leads his flock.

After Christ's ascension, the apostles spread the Good News of this new and everlasting covenant between God and all humanity, as Christ had sent them to do, traveling to all corners of the known world and building up the Church. (Tradition has various apostles going everywhere from India to Spain to Ethiopia.) The apostles then appointed those who would succeed them in guiding the Church in holiness and teaching the true faith, and those ones in turn appointed successors, so that, two thousand years later, via a sort of apostolic chain of custody, we still profess with the faith of the apostles, and are taught, governed, and sanctified through the work of the apostolic ministry (bishops, priests, deacons).

God keeps His promises.

Approaching the Trinity: Avoiding the Extremes

This Sunday is the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity. This great feast fittingly takes place very year after Pentecost, the holy day commemorating the descent of the Holy Spirit and the birth of the Church--after the ascension of Christ, sent by the Father, comes the sending of the Spirit, and thus we see the Triune God, one God in three Persons, made manifest to us. It's an appropriate moment to stop and consider for a moment the most mysterious of the mysteries of our faith.

I titled this post "Approaching the Trinity" because it is downright foolishness to think one can comprehend the Trinity. To understand God in His inmost being, in which unity is three-ness and three-ness is oneness? You can't get your arms around it; the best you can do is walk up to it. It's very hard to say what the Trinity is, but a bit easier to say what it isn't. In this post I'll show you some of the boundaries of thought on the Trinity (this is why the other half of the post's title is "Avoiding the Extremes"): you can know then that, if you find yourself thinking in this way, you've gone too far and are no longer thinking of God as He is.

Now, if you're approaching a mystery in which you are trying to see in what way something can be both one and three, there are two obvious ways you can err: overemphasizing the oneness, or overemphasizing the three-ness. The first of these errors often becomes a sort of modalism, while the second tends to become tritheism.

Modalism is the idea that God really, truly in His being is one, but he only appears to us in different persons; that is, God appears to us in different modes. Under this framework, the Israelites would have encountered God in "Father mode," and then God would have incarnated in "Son mode," then been present to the Church in "Spirit mode." It seems nice and tidy, and avoids that messiness of trying to explain how one God can be three different Persons, and was the sort of thought that many an early heretic fell into (and not a few modern theologians, I'd wager). BUT this way of thinking doesn't fit our data from Scripture. When Christ speaks of the Father and the Spirit, he speaks as though they are different from him; yes, he says, "The Father and I are one," but he also says, "My Father and I will come and dwell with him," and "I will send you a Paraclete." Sometimes his language denotes unity, sometimes differentiation. What's the solution? Either there is, in some way, both unity and differentiation, or we would be forced to conclude that Christ is a liar, putting on some show to make us think there are three Persons involved when really there's just one. And since all parties would agree that Christ is God, and God does not lie, the last solution does not work. So modalism can't be true.

Tritheism is the idea that God really, truly is three different beings, is three gods, but that they are all one in willing the same thing, or something like that. I think that many people today tend to conceive of God in this way, that there are these three beings each of whom we call God, but we call them one God because they just seem to get along so well. Not only that, I think most people tend to become subordinationists, too, placing the Persons of the Trinity into different degrees or ranks, one being somehow higher than the other: when they think of God, they think of the Father as being really God, and then, oh yeah, the Son, he's pretty god-ish, too, and I guess the Spirit, we can't leave him out. Unfortunately, as with modalism, you could find scriptural support for such a position, as many early heretics did, simply by pointing to all those places where the Persons are spoken of as distinct: how can Christ pray to his Father if they are one being? Well, we could stray off into complex discussions of the Trinity sharing one act of existence, or the thornier questions of what exactly we mean by "God exists" if God isn't a thing among other things in the universe, but rather the ground and source of all that exists, and other such deep metaphysical topics that I'm not sure I understand myself, so instead I'll go with something a bit simpler. Anything that is to be called "God" must be infinite. There cannot be more than one infinite, because in order to be two, there would have to be something that was not the other thing, and thus neither one would really be infinite. So, if God is infinite, God must be one; hence, we cannot understand the Trinity to be three gods.

I would hope that this could be of help in your spiritual life. If you're thinking of the Triune God either as an actor with three masks, or three guys who are just super-chummy, then you're not really thinking of God at all. To help hammer these points home, take a look at the creed attributed to St. Athanasius of Alexandria, one of the great Fathers of the Church, who defended the divinity of Christ and the integrity of the Trinity against heretics of his day. Let this be a small start in coming to know God better as He is.

Love & Lust on NCIS

Fans of TV's #1 drama, NCIS, will be well familiar with the long-running subplot of romantic tension between Special Agent Ziva David, ex-Mossad officer and femme fatale, and Very Special Agent (as he calls himself) Tony DiNozzo, ex-Baltimore cop and permanent wiseguy. Perhaps you think I could do better than to spend my time analyzing TV relationships, but I think there's an important point to be made in looking more closely at this one.

Initially, when Ziva first appears in Season 3, the relationship between her and Tony is simply flirtatious. Ziva would "slouch provocatively," as Tony accuses her of doing, or make titillating comments about her after-hours activities. Tony would leer and make the sort of comments he no doubt frequently did as a Ohio State basketball star. Any potential interest between them remained on the most superficial of levels, which is, unfortunately, where all too many TV and film romances remain.

Think about it: there are an awful lot of romantic comedies and TV shows that advertise a "love story" but present nothing more than two people either wittily or awkwardly flirting with each other, exchanging pithy one-liners full of innuendo and intrigue, with the grand culmination of a one-night stand. So superficial. So shallow. Bo-ring.

Where's the emotional depth? The sharing of hopes and dreams and fears? The intellectual discourse? The gradual deepening of care and concern by shared experience? The exclusive commitment? Too often absent. But Tony and Ziva are different.

At this point in the show, Tony and Ziva have been through a lot together, even apart from all the cases they've worked on. Tony saved Ziva's life when she was kidnapped by terrorists. Ziva supported Tony after his experience going undercover courting an arms dealer's daughter. The two have been there for each other, admitting their fears and insecurities, sharing simple moments of joy, fortifying each other in dark times. They've shown that sort of jealousy for each other that is a slight twisting of a real concern for the other's well-being and happiness, whether it was Tony regarding Ziva's relationship with "C-I-Ray" or Ziva concerning Tony's relationship with Agent Barrett. Most recently in the show, Ziva has been dealing with her father's murder, and Tony has been right there with her, from the little comforts like speaking kind words to her in her native language (perhaps he said, "I love you"?) to working with her to track down the killer, to the simple affectionate gesture of holding her hand. And that seems natural and obvious, because the show has established the strong bond between them. Tony doesn't just like Ziva. Tony isn't just attracted to Ziva. Tony doesn't lust after Ziva. Tony isn't infatuated with Ziva. Tony loves Ziva.

Too often our media feeds us the cotton candy of stories about relationships built on lust and calls them "love stories." Tony and Ziva's is a real love story. I'm glad it's on TV.

Church Chat: Liturgical Edition

It seems that many Catholics are unfamiliar with the names of the various items used or worn in the liturgy. It’s quite understandable: you may see these things on a weekly basis, but you don’t necessarily hear them referenced or addressed. I thought I’d share a few of these with you.

(Unlike previous versions of “Church Chat,” I won’t be giving the roots of these words.)

For Mass, the priest is vested with several pieces of liturgical accoutrement: sometimes a priest will wear a garment called an amice, which covers the shoulders and ties around the torso, so that his regular clothes are not visible; the long-sleeved white garment which reaches from neck to ankles is the alb; if the alb is loose-fitting, it is bound by a cord around the waist called the cincture; the long neckband which reaches the shins or ankles (depending on the height of the priest) is the stole; the over-garment, the one you really see, is the chasuble. 

When leading another sort of liturgy other than Mass, the priest might wear a long black robe called a cassock, with a white over-garment reaching the waist or knees called a surplice, as well as the aforementioned stole. For some events he may wear a cape, confusingly called a cope (really, we change one vowel?).

A deacon, in addition to the aforementioned alb, has a stole of a different style, which sits on one shoulder and is draped across the torso, being fastened at the waist. He may also wear a dalmatic, which looks somewhat like a chasuble, except that it has sleeves.

A bishop, in addition to the usual priestly vestments, has a few other noticeable items: the staff he carries, meant to resemble a shepherd’s crook, is called a crozier. The tall hat with the tassels in the back is called a miter. The smaller, yarmulke-looking item that covers the top of the head is called a zucchetto. An archbishop will wear a band which encircles his neck and has a short protrusion at opposite ends; this is the pallium.

Several items are used in offering the sacrifice of the Mass. The cup which holds the Precious Blood is a chalice. The small, shallow plate which holds the hosts is the paten. Other hosts are held in a bowl-like or chalice-like container called a ciborium. On the altar one will find a corporal, a small white cloth on which the chalice and paten are set. The water and wine used for the consecration are held in small (usually glass) containers called cruets. 

Hope this helps!

Greatest Hits

This is the 60th post on this blog. In commemoration of this event (yeah, usually you celebrate a 50, not a 60, but I missed it--so sue me), and since I have a very busy week and have not the time to compose a new post, I present to you the Top 10 posts from this blog, in no particular order:

A Q&A on the Dominican School of Philosophy and Theology.

Showing, in one way, why Chesterton, Lewis, and Sheen were such gifted communicators.

In which I show how we all ask philosophical questions every day.

On the proper definition of the word "hypocrisy."

Defending the usage of the phrase "very unique."

Poking holes in "politician's logic."

Showing the flaws in the thinking that an idea is automatically wrong just because it's old: the concept of "chronological snobbery."

In which we compare the shallow notion of love in the movie Shakespeare in Love to a deeper one in Yours, Mine, and Ours.

In which I show that some styles of music are better suited to the sacred liturgy than others.

In which I discuss the most important thing in the world.

Enjoy!

Points of Interest

An assortment of things I've run across that you may find of interest....

• I'm sure you can remember cartoons, TV shows, or movies that featured a character in a moral dilemma being advised by an angel on one shoulder and tempted by a devil on the other. Did you ever wonder where this idea came from? Actually, this is a very old idea in Christianity. An excerpt from The Life of Moses by St. Gregory of Nyssa (335-394 AD), one of the greatest Fathers of the Church:

"There is a doctrine (which derives its trustworthiness from the tradition of the fathers) which says that after our nature fell into sin God did not disregard our fall and withhold his providence. No, on the one hand, he appointed an angel with an incorporeal nature to help in the life of each person, and, on the other hand, he also appointed the corruptor who, by an evil and malificent demon, afflicts the life of man and contrives against our nature." (Book II, paragraph 45)

This is consonant with the notion that God allows us to be tempted in order that we might grow stronger in virtue by cooperating with His grace, turning toward God and away from sin. I'm not sure we'd go so far as to say that God appoints a demon to afflict us. But still... I bet you thought some animator made this up. Nope.

• There's an old story that our roads are the width they are today because they were patterned after train rails, which were patterned after carriages, which were patterned after Roman chariots -- so that the width of roads has not changed in 2,000 years! I'm not sure this is true, but there is at least one feature of our society that we do owe directly to the Romans: law. For example, the five basic categories we have today of circumstances which invalidate a contract are the same as they were in ancient Roman law! The survival of this principle is thanks to the medieval canon lawyers, particularly Gratian, who retrieved, collected, integrated and codified the wide assortment of civil and Church law which had survived into the second millennium. The Napoleonic Code was largely based on these surviving bits of Roman law, and its influence spread as France marched across Europe in the early 1800s. This code was then carried into the New World as the nations of Europe colonized the Americas and Africa. That same legal framework undergirds our Constitution. So, you can thank Gratian and St. Raymond of Penyafort for the Bill of Rights.

• When you hear an atheist or agnostic argue against the existence of God, what do they most often say? It's usually some variation on one of these two points: 

1) If God is perfectly good, why is there evil?
2) We can explain the natural world apart from God; we don't need a "God of the gaps," because there are no gaps. 

I can't think of any argument I've heard from an atheist that doesn't boil down to one of these two points. So guess what St. Thomas listed as the two objections to the question of whether God exists in his Summa Theologica? From ST I, Question 2, Article 3:

Objection 1. It seems that God does not exist; because if one of two contraries be infinite, the other would be altogether destroyed. But the word "God" means that He is infinite goodness. If, therefore, God existed, there would be no evil discoverable; but there is evil in the world. Therefore God does not exist.

Objection 2. Further, it is superfluous to suppose that what can be accounted for by a few principles has been produced by many. But it seems that everything we see in the world can be accounted for by other principles, supposing God did not exist. For all natural things can be reduced to one principle which is nature; and all voluntary things can be reduced to one principle which is human reason, or will. Therefore there is no need to suppose God's existence.

Go here to read his replies to the objections. 

The point is: folks, we've been over this before. If you're going to deny that God exists, at least come up with something original. Next time you hear an atheist or agnostic make one of these arguments, point them toward Thomas' argument. Perhaps they'll be surprised that someone who lived 800 years ago had already thought of their clever questions and answered them.

Everyday Philosophy

Previously in this space I have made the argument that we all employ philosophical reasoning every day without knowing it, because logic and demonstration simply are the way that human beings think. This extends, too, to phrases we use that assume a certain philosophical principle. Let me give you a few examples of what I mean...

"Information"

When we receive information, we gain new insight or understanding about the thing in question; we come to know it better. Have you ever considered what a funny sounding term this is, though? Compare it to the synonymous words I used a moment ago: "understand"--all right, this new knowledge now "stands under" me so that it lifts me up to new heights; "insight"--OK, this new knowledge allows me to "see into" this thing, to apprehend it more clearly. But what about "information"? Actually, this very word assume's an Aristotelian theory of how we come to know things. I've mentioned before Aristotle's theory of form and matter, that everything consists of the possibility-of-being (matter) and the essential what-it-is-that-makes-it-what-it-is (form). Aristotle said that when we perceive a thing, we come to know it so that the form of the thing is impressed onto our intellect; its essence, its form, becomes a part of us: that is, we are "in-form-ed" by the thing. Which connects to this phrase...

"Takes one to know one"

When your intellect receives the form of the thing, Aristotle concluded that it rightly can be said that in some way you become the thing that you know. If I know what a nightingale is, it's because the form of nightingale has been impressed upon my intellect, so that I participate in the form or essence of "nightingale-ness;" I cannot know it unless it's a part of me. For Aristotle, it really does take one to know one.

"Haters gonna hate"

A phrase used by the kids these days to mean "You have a prejudice or bias against my idea which is causing you to react negatively to it without considering its merits; that is, because you already hate it, you can do no other but hate." This (I say with tongue in cheek but hoping it can get the message across) is an example of the Aristotelian-Thomistic principle of agere sequitur esse, or "action follows being." A thing will behave according to its nature determined by its essence, its form, the sort of thing it is; and by looking at the actions of a thing, you can determine what sort of thing it is. Dogs bark and cats meow. Woodpeckers peck wood and woodchucks chuck wood (that is, if woodchucks could chuck wood). Human beings act rationally. (Well, some of them, anyway.) So, if you see someone hating, clearly they're a hater... 'cause haters gonna hate.

If you have ever used any of these phrases, congratulations: you're an Aristotelian!