Insight Scoop | The Ignatius Press Blog

Are Protestants Heretics?

Father Edward Oakes poses that question at the First Things weblog:

My lucubrations for today’s webposting would like to argue just this one single point: Doctrinal clarity is lost when Catholics call Protestant heretics. To be sure, that habit of unthinkingly hurling accusations of heresy at Protestants pretty much died out after the Second Vatican Council, when talk of “separated brethren” became all the rage. But a random spot-check of some Catholic blogsites of a conservative bent–where heresy is often used as the term of choice when these bloggers are in their Colonel Blimp harumphing mood–tells me it’s time for some clarity here. Which prompts the following reflections.

For the rest of the story, go here: http://www.firstthings.com/onthesquare/?p=617.

Benedict on Aquinas: "Faith Implies Reason"

Benedict on Aquinas: "Faith Implies Reason" | Fr. James V. Schall, S.J. | February 1, 2007        

"According to the thought of St. Thomas Aquinas, human reason, to say it as such, 'breathes,' that is, it moves on a wide-open horizon in which it can experience the best of itself. Nonetheless, when man limits himself to think only of material and experimental objects, he closes himself to the questions of life, about himself and about God, impoverishing himself." -- Benedict XVI, Feast of Thomas Aquinas, January 28, 2007

I.

A seminarian friend of mine in Connecticut brought my attention, via e-mail, to the ZENIT copy of the Holy Father's Angelus for Sunday, January 28, entitled, "On the Faith-Reason Synthesis: A Precious Patrimony for Western Civilization." Naturally, I hastened to look it up as I had not yet read it. One good thing about the weekly papal Sunday "Angelus" talks is that they are short, to the point, and seldom designed to say more than one thing to the folks assembled below the papal balcony to receive the papal blessing. As I had been reading both Chesterton's Heretics and John Paul II's Memory and Identity with a class, this particular brief comment on Aquinas was of particular interest to me.

I have always considered particularly prophetic the conclusion of Chesterton's book, written in 1905. It described, in his own vivid and far-seeing way, what would, more than anything, be the philosophical irony of the then upcoming 20^th and 21st centuries...

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More Secularist Rages...

... from Professor A.C. Grayling, in a January 29th column in The Guardian. Suffice to say, he's not backing down from his audacious and hyper-polemical excoriation of Christianity:

Madeleine Bunting, in a column today, thinks that discrimination is a minor matter; we should all spend every day that the Iraq war lasts wringing our hands over it, paying no attention to anything else, least of all efforts by self-selected tendentious minorities to protect their prejudices from efforts to make our society a fairer place.

The impression of confusion is heightened by Ms Bunting's version of history, which she opposed to mine by name. She tells us that Christianity has "fostered learning and science" in Europe for "hundreds of years".

I challenge her to name one - even one small - contribution to science made by Christianity in its two thousand years; just one; and in the process perhaps she might kindly explain how, so late as 1615, after Galileo had seen the moons of Jupiter through his telescope, the great Cardinal Bellarmine could write: "read, not merely the Fathers, but modern commentators on Genesis, the Psalms, Ecclesiastes, and Joshua; you will discover that all agree in interpreting them literally as teaching that the sun is in the heavens and revolves round the earth with immense speed, and that the earth is very distant from the heavens, at the centre of the universe, and motionless. Consider then in your prudence whether the Church can tolerate that the scriptures should be interpreted in a manner contrary to that of the holy fathers and of all modern commentators, both Latin and Greek." ...

If the Catholic Church were still running Europe, Ms Bunting would not be writing for the Guardian. Actually, if this was 1950s Ireland, she might not be writing anything.

I'm afraid that Professor Grayling is becoming a sad caricature of the Angry Village Atheist, full of vitriol and few facts or arguments. It reminds me of an exchange I had on the radio last March with a man who declared:

"The Catholic Church has always been late in accepting scientific facts. Why, it wasn't until the 1960s that a pope admitted that the Big Bang theory was probably true."

Me: "That's strange, because the Big Bang theory was actually proposed and developed by a Catholic scientist."

After a break I mentioned that the scientist in question, Belgian mathematician Georges Lemaitre, was also a Catholic priest. Whose work (in the 1920s and 1930s) was applauded by Pope Pius XI. And by Albert Einstein.

Meanwhile, another Guardian columnist, Mark Vernon, notes that Christians/Christianity played a direct or indirect role in most of the Top 10 scientific discoveries (as rated by Encarta).

"Mary has a pivotal and irreducible place in the Bible..."

"... and evangelicals must reclaim this aspect of biblical teaching if we are to be faithful to the whole counsel of God."

So writes Timothy George, Baptist theologian and dean of Beeson Divinity School of Samford University, in a First Things article titled, "Evangelicals and the Mother of God." He continues:

When it comes to the gospel, Mary cannot be shunted aside or relegated to the affectionate obscurity of the annual Christmas pageant. In the New Testament, she is not only the mother of the redeemer but also the first one to whom the gospel was proclaimed and, in turn, the first one to proclaim it to others. Mary is named a “herald” of God’s good news. We cannot ignore the messenger, because the message she tells is about the salvation of the world.

Evangelical retrieval of a proper biblical theology of Mary will give attention to five explicit aspects of her calling and ministry: Mary as the daughter of Israel, as the virgin mother of Jesus, as Theotokos, as the ?handmaiden of the Word, and as the mother of the Church. Consider Mary’s first title, Daughter of Israel. Mary stands, along with John the Baptist, at a unique point of intersection in the biblical narrative between the Old and the New Covenants. When Mary cradles the baby Jesus in the Temple in the presence of Anna and Simeon, we see brought together the advent of the Lord’s messiah, and the long-promised and long-prepared-for “consolation of Israel.” The holy family is portrayed as part of a wider community, namely “all those who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem” (Luke 2:38).

Certainly worth reading, especially to get a sense of how far ecumenical dialogue between Catholics and some Evangelicals has come--and what still needs to be addressed. George, I should note, wrote the Foreword to the 2005 edition of Avery Cardinal Dulles's excellent work, A History of Apologetics. That Foreword can be read here; an interview with Cardinal Dulles about that book can be read here.

Hypothetically...

Let's say that when I got married I recognized that my wife had Qualities XYZ and Personality ABC. Let's say that after a few years I decided that I'd like her more if she changed said qualities and personality to fit me and my evolving needs. Let's say she refused, saying she must remain true to who she is and, besides, I had promised to be with her til death do part and so forth.

Let's say I finally became very angry with my wife's refusal to change and left her for another woman.

Let's say I then spent most of my time complaining publicly about my former wife and ranting about how she needs to change, and how I was going to make her change.

Well, I'm happy to say that's a completley hypothetical situation. For me, at least.

Not for this guy.

Sigh. Some people just don't get it. But I'm happy to report that the "first wife" is doing just fine. As for the "second wife," not so well...

Dark Ages and Secularist Rages: A Response to Professor A.C. Grayling

Dark Ages and Secularist Rages: A Response to Professor A.C. Grayling | Carl E. Olson | January 30, 2007

As readers of the Insight Scoop blog know, I recently posted a somewhat caustic fisking of a column, "The persistence of the faithful" (The Guardian, Jan 23, 2007), written by Professor A.C. Grayling, professor of philosophy at Birkbeck College, University of London. This led to some responses by Grayling (here, here, here, and here).

Grayling's column was ostensibly concerned with the apparent decision of the British government passing a law, the "Equality Act," that would make it law that adoption agencies, including those run by the Catholic Church, would have to allow homosexual couples to use their adoption services. But Grayling's column touched on a number of larger issues,   both historical and philosophical in nature, which deserve some further response, especially since many readers have shown an interest in the various issues involved, and because Professor Grayling has taken the time to join the conversation. My goals in this short piece are modest: to offer some context to situate this small discussion in a larger and older debate, to suggest some resources that might be of interest to readers, and to critique some of the premises set forth by Professor Grayling. ...

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Am I a Christian? | Malcolm Muggeridge

Am I a Christian? | Malcolm Muggeridge | From Seeing Through The Eye: Malcolm Muggeridge on Faith

The subject that has been chosen tonight [1] is one that to me is of immense seriousness. Am I a Christian?

I don't think it's merely of seriousness to me. I think that many people who might in their normal habits of thought and ways seem very remote from any connection with the Christian religion might well be putting that question and putting it sometimes with great disconcertment. Am I a Christian? It ought to be the easiest question in the world to answer. A Christian is a follower of Christ, and I'm quite sure that the early Christians, from whom it all began and in whose honour this edifice and millions of others like it were erected, would have had no difficulty whatever in answering that question. To them it was abundantly simple. They followed a man of whom they'd known or heard at first hand, and who told them that His Kingdom was not of this world; and therefore the problem to them was an infinitely simple one. They didn't feel bound to relate their thoughts and their conduct to the permissive morality of the Court of the Emperor Nero.

That was something that had nothing whatever to do with them. They didn't feel bound to associate themselves or attach themselves to political causes; they belonged to another world. Their cause was their love and loyalty to this Man. Even Peter on that tragic occasion when the cock crew knew exactly what he had done–denied an allegiance, an allegiance which was terrifically simple and meaningful.

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Philosophy 101 on the Brain?

Flunking Philosophy 101 on the Pages of Time Magazine

Few people enjoy reading other people's rants, so I will try to avoid falling into a rant here. But it is easy to do when scientists and putative scientists try to swindle people into thinking scientific expertise automatically endows the expert with sound thinking in other areas, such as philosophy or theology.

Steven Pinker's recent Time piece, "The Mystery of Consciousness", may not amount to a swindle--I don't know that he is trying to mislead. But swindle or not, he does mislead his readers and in the process reveals a profound ignorance of basic philosophical and theological issues shocking in an educated man, much less in a professor of psychology.

To be sure there is a lot of worthwhile stuff in his piece. Unfortunately, there is a lot more than isn't worthwhile. Here is one gem from among the seemingly inexhaustable supply:

[T]he biology of consciousness offers a sounder basis for morality than the unprovable dogma of an immortal soul. It's not just that an understanding of the physiology of consciousness will reduce human suffering through new treatments for pain and depression. That understanding can also force us to recognize the interests of other beings--the core of morality.

As every student in Philosophy 101 learns, nothing can force me to believe that anyone except me is conscious. This power to deny that other people have feelings is not just an academic exercise but an all-too-common vice, as we see in the long history of human cruelty. Yet once we realize that our own consciousness is a product of our brains and that other people have brains like ours, a denial of other people's sentience becomes ludicrous. "Hath not a Jew eyes?" asked Shylock. Today the question is more pointed: Hath not a Jew--or an Arab, or an African, or a baby, or a dog--a cerebral cortex and a thalamus? The undeniable fact that we are all made of the same neural flesh makes it impossible to deny our common capacity to suffer.

And when you think about it, the doctrine of a life-to-come is not such an uplifting idea after all because it necessarily devalues life on earth. Just remember the most famous people in recent memory who acted in expectation of a reward in the hereafter: the conspirators who hijacked the airliners on 9/11.

Think, too, about why we sometimes remind ourselves that "life is short." It is an impetus to extend a gesture of affection to a loved one, to bury the hatchet in a pointless dispute, to use time productively rather than squander it. I would argue that nothing gives life more purpose than the realization that every moment of consciousness is a precious and fragile gift.

Note the second paragraph. Now that we know that our own consciousness is a product of our brains, so the argument goes, and we now know that others have brains, the age-old problem of why I should believe others have consciousness is suddenly solved.

Right.

And because I now know others are conscious I now know others can suffer.

Right.

Therefore ... what? I have now, according to Pinker, "a sounder basis for morality than the unprovable dogma of an immortal soul"?

Hmmm. Even granting the fallacious reasoning he employs to bring us to his conclusion that I now know that others suffer because I know that they have brains like me, why does all of that lead me to the moral obligation to care whether others suffer? Why again is it a moral imperative for me to do anything about the suffering of others? How do I get that ought-statement from the is-statement that other people have brains and therefore have consciousness?

Only if there is a moral ought--a category of thought not reducible to the biology of consciousness--can the fact that others suffer have any moral significance for me. And that's granting the fallacious reasoning that supposedly leads up to Pinker's conclusion.

Pinker says Philosophy 101 teaches us that nothing can force us to believe that others are conscious. Well, with all due respect to Dr. Pinker, I think he might benefit from a refresher course in Philosophy 101 because his supposed "biology of consciousness" provides no more basis for the conclusion that others are conscious than it provides for morality, superior or otherwise. Common sense tells us that other human beings are conscious. Whether or not you want to regard the common sense argument for the proposition as a sound "proof", if you reject the common sense argument, you will not find a better one in the so-called biology of consciousness. Why should I accept the testimony of my senses and my reason when it tells me that such things as brains exist and that these brains are linked to (not pace Pinker the sole producer of) consciousness, when I can't accept the testimony of my senses and reasoning when I conclude from my experience of the world and my interactions with other beings that some of them are conscious? To rule out the latter is tacitly to rule out the former.

Pinker's argument about the idea of an afterlife devaluing this life also misfires. One hardly knows where to begin. If this life really is all there is, why does anything I do in this life matter? Why does consciousness matter? Why do I matter? Why do you? Why aren't we simply a product of matter and "chance"? Why not live only to please oneself before one must face the inevitable extinction of existence in death? Why get all bothered about moral issues such as racism or the Holocaust? At the very least, one who denies a transcendent dimension to human life--who reduces consciousness to biology, for example--has "a lot of splainin to do" when it comes to providing a rational justification of morality.

"I would argue that nothing gives life more purpose than the realization that every moment of consciousness is a precious and fragile gift," writes Pinkers.

Hmmm. A gift. From whom?

St. Thomas and St. Francis | G.K. Chesterton

St. Thomas and St. Francis | G.K. Chesterton | From St. Thomas Aquinas

Let me at once anticipate comment by answering to the name of that notorious character, who rushes in where even the Angels of the Angelic Doctor might fear to tread.

Some time ago I wrote a little book of this type and shape on St. Francis of Assisi; and some time after (I know not when or how, as the song says, and certainly not why) I promised to write a book of the  same size, or the same smallness on St. Thomas Aquinas. The promise was Franciscan only in its rashness; and the parallel was very far from being Thomistic in its logic. You can make a sketch of St. Francis: you could only make a plan of St. Thomas, like the plan of a labyrinthine city. And yet in a sense he would fit into a much larger or a much smaller book. What we really know of his life might be pretty fairly dealt with in a few pages; for he did not, like St. Francis, disappear in a shower of personal anecdotes and popular legends.

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Philosopher of Virtue

Philosopher of Virtue | Josef Pieper (1904-1997)

Josef Pieper was born on May 4th, 1904, in the small Westphalian village of Elte, Germany. At that time not even a local train connected the isolated spot in the middle of the heath with other towns of Westphalia; whoever wanted to reach the next station had to cross a river in a small ferry-boat. Pieper's father was the only teacher at the only school of this village. Josef Pieper went to the Gymnasium Paulinum in Münster, one of the oldest German schools, which has existed for more than eleven hundred years. His son took up that tradition as a pupil of that old institution, the buildings of which, however, were completely destroyed during World War II.

A teacher at the Gymnasium Paulinum, a priest, convinced Pieper to read the works of Thomas Aquinas. "At that time," Pieper wrote, "I was foolishly fond of Kierkegaard, whom we used to devour, my friends and I, naturally without quite understanding him; and it was this paternal friend and teacher, who directed me – with a sort of violent, ironical, and humorous intensity – to St. Thomas' Commentary to the Prologue of St. John's Gospel. Being a youngster of eighteen, I set about reading this work and, in fact, finished it, of course, again without understanding it perfectly. But from that moment the work of St. Thomas has accompanied me through life." Years later he translated this Commentary to the Prologue of St. John's Gospel into German.

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