Insight Scoop | The Ignatius Press Blog

Why does the Vatican have an observatory?

I suppose that folks like Jack Chick and Co. would tell you it's so that nameless, faceless Jesuit drones can spy on other people and work on nefarious, top-secret plans to dominate the world using space age technology. But journalist Michael Mason presents a much different picture in a lengthy and quite excellent piece for Discover magazine that can be accessed on MSNBC. It's apparent that Mason put some serious effort into the article, "How to teach science to the Pope," (Aug. 19, 2008), which has some fascinating and revealing quotes from a number of people, ranging from Brother Guy Consolmagno to Richard Dawkins to Monsignor Melchor Sánchez de Toca to Cardinal Christoph Schönborn.

A couple of excerpts:

“The idea that the universe is worth studying just because it’s worth studying is a religious idea,” Consolmagno says. “If you think the universe is fundamentally good and that it’s an expression of a good God, then studying how the universe works is a way of becoming intimate with the Creator. It’s a kind of worship. And that’s been a big motivation for doing any kind of science.”

As a scientist who is also a Jesuit brother, Consolmagno suggests that science poses philosophical questions that in turn spark religious inquiries.

“A hundred years ago we didn’t understand the Big Bang,” he says. “Now that we have the understanding of a universe that is big and expanding and changing, we can ask philosophical questions we would not have known to ask, like ‘What does it mean to have multiverses?’ These are wonderful questions. Science isn’t going to answer them, but science, by telling us what is there, causes us to ask these questions. It makes us go back to the seven days of creation — which is poetry, beautiful poetry, with a lesson underneath it — and say, ‘Oh, the seventh day is God resting as a way of reminding us that God doesn’t do everything.’ God built this universe but gave you and me the freedom to make choices within the universe.”

And then there is this priceless quote from Dawkins:

“We call [Dawkins’s stance] sci­entism, and there is reference to it in the encyclical,” says Father Rafael Pascual, dean of philosophy at the Regina Apostolorum Pontifical University in Rome.

“Scientism,” Dawkins tells me later, “is the pejorative word sometimes used for the view that science can explain everything and kind of arrogates to itself the privilege of explaining everything. Science cannot tell you what is right and wrong. When it comes to really interesting questions, like ‘Where did the laws of physics come from?’ or ‘How did the universe arrive in the first place?’ I genuinely don’t know whether science will answer those deep and at present mysterious questions; I am confident that if science can’t answer them, nothing else can. But it may be that nothing will ever answer them.”

Scientism, then, is a "pejorative word" used for the belief that only science can ultimately explain everything. But Dawkins, in contrast, believes that only science can answer the deepest and most mysterious questions, if they can answered at all. Do you see the difference? What, there is no difference? Well, how would you know since you aren't a biologist? Well? Hilarious.

Finally, as if Dawkins' lack of intellectual integrity isn't bad enough, there is simply his lack of integrity, period:

Dawkins expresses skepticism at the Church’s mission to build a bridge between science and theology with the use of philosophy. “There is nothing to build a bridge to,” he says. “Theology is a complete and utter non­subject.” At one point in my talk with Dawkins, Father George Coyne, the well-respected retired head of the Vatican Observatory (and, as such, a former member of the Academy of Sciences), becomes the subject of conversation.

“I met him a few weeks ago and liked him very much,” Dawkins says. “And he said to me that there is absolutely no reason whatsoever to believe in God, and so I said, ‘Why do you believe in God?’ and he said: ‘It’s quite simple. I was brought up Catholic.’ When I think about good scientists — and some are devoutly religious and many of them are Catholic, Jesuit brothers and priests, for instance — I can never make out whether they are compartmentalizing their minds. Sometimes if you press them, it turns out that what they believe is something very different from what it says in the Creed. It turns out that all they really believe is that there is some deeply mysterious unknown at the root of the universe.”

Dawkins’s comments stuck with me. In the many interviews I had with priests, each expressed a sophisticated theology that seemed far more abstract than what you might find occupying the mind of an average believer. Is belief in a deeply mysterious unknown root of the universe such a bad thing for science, even if it is perceived through the framework of Christian concepts and imagery?

“I did not tell Richard Dawkins that there was no reason to believe in God,” says Coyne, who counts Dawkins a friend. “I said reasons are not adequate. Faith is not irrational, it is arational; it goes beyond reason. It doesn’t contradict reason. So my take is precisely that faith, to me, is a gift from God. I didn’t reason to it, I didn’t merit it — it was given to me as a gift through my family and my teachers.... My science helps to enrich that gift from God, because I see in his creation what a marvelous and loving god he is. For instance, by making the universe an evolutionary universe — he didn’t make it a ready-made, like a washing machine or a car — he made it a universe that has in it a participation of creativity. Dawkins’s real question to me should be, ‘How come you have the gift of faith and I don’t?’ And that’s an embarrassment for me. The only thing I can say is that either you have it and don’t know it, or God works with each of us differently, and God does not deny that gift to anybody. I firmly believe that.”

Read the entire article.

Related IgnatiusInsight.com Articles and Excerpts:

• Professor Dawkins and the Origins of Religion | Fr. Thomas Crean, O.P. | From God Is No Delusion: A Refutation of Richard Dawkins
• Dawkins' Delusions | An interview with Fr. Thomas Crean, O.P., author of God Is No Delusion: A Refutation of Richard Dawkins
• Excerpts from Chance or Purpose? | Christoph Cardinal Schönborn | From Chance or Purpose?
• Website for Cardinal Schönborn's Chance or Purpose?
• Atheism and the Purely "Human" Ethic | Fr. James V. Schall, S.J.
• Is Religion Evil? Secularism's Pride and Irrational Prejudice | Carl E. Olson
• Designed Beauty and Evolutionary Theory | Fr. Thomas Dubay, S.M.
• The Universe is Meaning-full | An interview with Dr. Benjamin Wiker
• The Mythological Conflict Between Christianity and Science | An interview with Dr. Stephen Barr
• The Source of Certitude | Fr. Thomas Dubay, S.M.
• The Mystery of Human Origins | Mark Brumley
• Intelligent Project website

Swimming against the pro-contraception stream

John L. Allen, Jr., has penned an interesting op-ed piece, "The Pope vs. the Pill," for The New York Times. He writes:

Forty years ago last week, Pope Paul VI provoked the greatest uproar against a papal edict in the long history of the Roman Catholic Church when he reiterated the church’s ban on artificial birth control by issuing the encyclical “Humanae Vitae.” At the time, commentators predicted that not only would the teaching collapse under its own weight, but it might well bring the “monarchical papacy” down with it.

Those forecasts badly underestimated the capacity of the Catholic Church to resist change and to stand its ground.

Indeed. But as Allen points out a few paragraphs later, it's not that the Church merely resists change; rather, it's that the Church continues to develop a deeper understanding of her beliefs, as evidenced (as he mentions) by John Paul II's Theology of the Body. Allen concludes by stating:

The encyclical’s surprising resilience is a reminder that forecasting the Catholic future in moments of crisis is always a dangerous enterprise — a point with relevance to a more recent Catholic predicament. Many critics believe that the church has not yet responded adequately to the recent sex-abuse scandals, leading to predictions that the church will “have to” become more accountable, more participatory and more democratic.

While those steps may appear inevitable today, it seemed unthinkable to many observers 40 years ago that “Humanae Vitae” would still be in vigor well into the 21st century.

Catholicism can and does change, but trying to guess how and when is almost always a fool’s errand.

Benedict XVI, in less than four years, has already shown some of the ways that vital issues can be addressed. At the heart of his approach is fidelity to the Gospel and the Church's teachings, a willingness to dialogue in a way that is charitable and elicits serious reflection and response, and an emphasis on worship and liturgy as a vital component in revitalizing a culture of life, love, and hope.

Allen's column and comments reminded me of a chapter, "The Five Deaths of the Faith," found in G.K. Chesterton's great book, The Everlasting Man:

In short, the whole world being divided about whether the stream was going slower or faster, became conscious of something vague but vast that was going against the stream. Both in fact and figure there is something deeply disturbing about this, and that for an essential reason. A dead thing can go with the stream, but only a living thing can go against it. A dead dog can be lifted on the leaping water with all the swiftness of a leaping hound; but only a live dog can swim backwards. A paper boat can ride the rising deluge with all the airy arrogance of a fairy ship; but if the fairy ship sails upstream it is really rowed by the fairies. And among the things that merely went with the tide of apparent progress and enlargement, there was many a demagogue or sophist whose wild gestures were in truth as lifeless as the movement of a dead dog's limbs wavering in the eddying water; and many a philosophy uncommonly like a paper boat, of the sort that it is not difficult to knock into a cocked hat. But even the truly living and even life-giving things that went with that stream did not thereby prove that they were living or life-giving. It was this other force that was unquestionably and unaccountably alive; the mysterious and unmeasured energy that was thrusting back the river. That was felt to be like the movement of some great monster; and it was none the less clearly a living monster because most people thought it a prehistoric monster. It was none the less an unnatural, an incongruous, and to some a comic upheaval; as if the Great Sea Serpent had suddenly risen out of the Round Pond-unless we consider the Sea Serpent as more likely to live in the Serpentine. This flippant element in the fantasy must not be missed, for it was one of the clearest testimonies to the unexpected nature of the reversal. That age did really feel that a preposterous quality in prehistoric animals belonged also to historic rituals; that mitres and tiaras were like the horns or crests of antediluvian creatures; and that appealing to a Primitive Church was like dressing up as a Primitive Man.

The world is still puzzled by that movement; but most of all because it still moves. I have said something elsewhere of the rather random sort of reproaches that are still directed against it and its much greater consequences; it is enough to say here that the more such critics reproach it the less they explain it. In a sense it is my concern here, if not to explain it, at least to suggest the direction of the explanation; but above all, it is my concern to point out one particular thing about it. And that is that it had all happened before; and even many times before.

To sum up, in so far as it is true that recent centuries have seen an attenuation of Christian doctrine, recent centuries have only seen what the most remote centuries have seen. And even the modern example has only ended as the medieval and pre-medieval examples ended. It is already clear, and grows clearer every day, that it is not going to end in the disappearance of the diminished creed; but rather in the return of those parts of it that had really disappeared. It is going to end as the Arian compromise ended, as the attempts at a compromise with Nominalism and even with Albigensianism ended. But the point to seize in the modern case, as in all the other cases, is that what returns is not in that sense a simplified theology; not according to that view a purified theology; it is simply theology. It is that enthusiasm for theological studies that marked the most doctrinal ages; it is the divine science.

The Church's teaching about sexuality, marriage, reproduction, and life goes against the stream; it is a living thing swimming against the deadly current of the culture of death. When that teaching is lived faithfully, taught well, defended with clarity and charity, and articulated with precision and love, it changes lives and transforms hearts. Pope Paul VI has been proven prophetic in his denunciation of contraceptives and the contraceptive mentality; unfortunately, as Allen notes, far too many Catholics have gone with the flow, contracepting themselves to the point of death—spiritual, emotional, and theological (see, for example, this op-ed by a former priest). As Chesterton (himself prophetic) noted and as John Paul II demonsrated, true theology—which is not dry discourse, but life-giving contemplation of and communion with the mystery of the Triune God—is an essential part of the answer.

Ignatius Press author named bishop of New Ulm, Minnesota

Fr. John LeVoir was named by Pope Benedict today to be the fourth bishop of New Ulm, Minnesota. CNA reports:

Born in Minneapolis in 1946, the bishop-elect LeVoir studied chemistry, business, history and theology prior to his priestly ordination in 1981.  In a statement released by Fr. LeVoir, he explained that his “background is that of a parish priest,” most recently serving as the pastor of St. Michael and St. Mary in Stillwater, a position he has held since 2004.

Fr. LeVoir also addressed his new flock by calling on “the clergy, the religious, and the people of the diocese to be patient with me and to pray for me, as I will for them. With the help of God's grace, I will do my best to be a faithful shepherd.”

Fr. LeVoir is the co-author, with Fr. Richard M. Hogan, of Covenant Of Love: Pope John Paul II on Sexuality, Marriage, and Family in the Modern World (Ignatius Press, 1992), which is a well-written, helpful guide to John Paul II's writings and teachings on, well, sexuality, marriage, and family.

May God grant Bishop LeVoir many happy, blessed years.

And who are the Mysterious Many?

The Aussie newspaper The Age has a lengthy piece, "Out of John Paul's shadow" (July 12, 2008), that talks about how perceptions of Benedict XVI have changed in three years:

When Joseph Ratzinger was elected the 266th pope on April 19, 2005, and took the name Benedict, there were many in the church who thought he would be just a speck on the stage. They expected a pale shadow of John Paul II, mimicking his policies and priorities but without the charisma or the charm. Nicknamed "God's rottweiler", "the Panzerkardinal" and an ecclesiastical "Darth Vader", as Ratzinger he was seen as the church's mailed fist.

Hmmm....and who are these mysterious MITC (many in the Church)? Multiple choice time:

1. Most journalists.
2. Christopher Hitchens
3. Catholic dissenters
4. The former editor of America
5. Pre-2005 John Allen, Jr.
6. All of the above

As Benedict, the reality has been more velvet glove, and he has proved very much his own man. There have been continuities, but in many ways he has been a stark contrast — more self-effacing, gentle and intellectual — to the previous pope, for whom he was chief adviser and doctrinal watchdog. There have been no heresy hunts, few confrontations, a much less visible presence and much less travel. His writings, including encyclicals on love and hope, have been optimistic. A profound and subtle theologian, he has sought to engage and to persuade — inside and outside the church.

And who, if we had to wildly and blindly guess, would not have been surprised by any of this back in 2005?

1. People who actually read Ratzinger's books
2. People who read Ignatius Press books
3. Fr. Joseph Fessio
4. Fr. D. Vincent Twomey
5. Monsignor Joseph Murphy
6. All of the above

The article actually goes so far to suggest that it was John Paul II who was the mean, nasty pope, while Benedict is the warm, accessible pope:

An anecdote highlighting the difference in the cat-loving and Mozart-playing pontiff's approach is the treatment of the great progressive theologian Hans Kung, a former colleague at Tubingen University. In 1979 the Vatican stripped Kung of his licence to teach as a Catholic theologian after he challenged the doctrine of papal infallibility. For 26 years, Kung wrote repeatedly to John Paul II seeking a meeting, and never even received a reply. When Benedict got the same request, he quickly met Kung in a friendly four-hour discussion of common ground. "Pope Wojtyla (John Paul II) wanted to be the big high priest and reduced the bishops to film extras who have nothing to say but who have just to applaud," Kung told British Catholic weekly newspaper The Tablet last month. "Benedict would tell you he talks to the bishops all the time. He's very attentive. He doesn't bang the table like Pope Wojtyla and say, 'I don't want to hear about the lack of vocations.' But he is different in tone, not substance."

Well, I have a simple theory about Hans Küng: he's mostly full of entertaining nonsense. It's just a theory, but it makes a lot of sense of what he tells the MSM.

Liberal Democracy as a Culture of Death: Why John Paul II Was Right

Liberal Democracy as a Culture of Death:  Why John Paul II Was Right | Dr. Raymond Dennehy | Ignatius Insight    

"To claim the right to abortion, infanticide, and euthanasia, and to recognize that right in law, means to attribute to human freedom a perverse and evil significance: that of an absolute power over others and against others. This is the death of true freedom." -- John Paul II, The Gospel of Life

Pope John Paul II's encyclical The Gospel of Life is the locus classicus for the claim that a culture of death is enshrouding the modern world. His identification and critique of what he calls the "culture of death" directly challenge liberal democracy, particularly on its separation of freedom from truth. This essay will focus on that challenge. The first part offers an analytic introduction to the term "culture of death," the second part unfolds the late pope's argument, and the third part advances a defense of it. ...

• Download and read the entire 33-page essay in PDF format.

This article originally appeared in the Spring 2006 issue of Telos. It has been made available by the kind permission of Telos and the author.

Perhaps Hans Küng was misquoted...

...but I fear that these are probably his actual words, as reported by The Times (July 17, 2008):

Professor Kung, whose own liberal views cost him his official Catholic teaching licence in the last century, said that the essence of all three religions [Judaism, Christianity, Islam] must be preserved, but those who want peace and reconciliation will not be able to avoid criticism. They must engage in self-criticism to enable their faiths to adapt to modernity.

Referring to Christianity, for example, he said: “Jesus Christ as a basic model is a constant, but the law of celibacy is a variable.”

[Pause button] It would be nice to see this quote in its larger context, but it sounds very Küngian—bringing nearly everything back to either sexuality and/or authority. Regardless, it is true that the celibate priesthood in the Western rites is a matter of discipline, not of dogma. But this quote just seems to hang there, without any rhyme or reason. Ah well, carry on:

He argued: “After the Reformation, Christianity had to undergo another paradigm shift, that of the Enlightenment. Judaism, after the French Revolution and Napoleon, experienced the Enlightenment first, and as a consequence, at least in Reform Judaism, it experienced also a religious reformation. Islam, however, has not undergone a serious religious reformation and so to the present day has quite special problems also with modernity and its core components, freedom of conscience and religion, human rights, tolerance, democracy."

Professor Kung also set out what the three religions have in common, such as injunctions against murder and respect for life. “They do not recognise themselves in our picture of Islam, because they want to be loyal citizens of the Islamic religion.

"Those who make Islam responsible for kidnappings, suicide attacks, car bombs and beheadings carried out by a few blind extremists ought at the same time to condemn Christianity or Judaism for the barbarous maltreatment of prisoners, the air strikes and tank attacks carried out by the US Army - 10,000 civilians have been murdered in Iraq alone - and the terrorism of the Israeli army in Palestine.”

Perhaps Küng has not noticed that many folks—in the realms of politics and media—do just that: they insist that homicide bombers who target innocent men, women, and children are no different than American soldiers who go to great lengths to ensure that their targets are not innocent men, women, and children. (Perhaps he's also noticed that such criticism is commonplace in the West, but that criticism in Islamic countries of terrorist activities is almost completely nonexistent. Hmmmm...I wonder why.) It's not clear—not by a long shot—that terrorism is the work of a "few blind extremists," especially since it is public knowledge that certain nations and states have been providing all sorts of support for terrorists groups for decades. Details, details. In Küng's world, it seems to me, Küng's opinion is the constant, while reality is merely a variable. Finally:

He described how liberal Jews, Christians and Muslims often get on better with each other than they do with fellow Jews, Christians and Muslims from the traditionalist wings of those religions. A Roman Catholic “imprisoned in the Middle Ages” will find himself closer to the “medieval element” of Islam and Judaism than with liberal Catholic believers.

I'm not sure if Küng would say that Benedict XVI is "imprisoned in the Middle Ages," but it's worth noting that the most significant steps toward addressing Islam and entering into meaningful dialogue (as opposed to politically-correct groveling) with Muslims—at least those Muslims open to dialogue—has come about because of the words and actions of the Holy Father. For some excellent, thoughtful, and politically-incorrect analysis of these subjects, I recommend George Weigel's Faith, Reason and the War Against Jihadism. For more by Hans Küng, see your local used bookstore; they always seem to have dozens of his books available.

The Beatification and Canonization of Pope John Paul II

A Washington Post article ("Charting a path to John Paul II's sainthood" [June 2, 2008]) takes a look at the process behind the canonization of Pope John Paul II:

From the start, this has not been a typical investigation. On the day of John Paul's funeral in 2005, Catholics in St. Peter's Square shouted out "Santo subito!" -- "Sainthood now!" In the face of strong public enthusiasm, his successor, Benedict XVI, waived the usual five-year wait before formal considerations could begin. Since then, the advocacy has only stepped up to get John Paul quickly through a process that can take centuries.

Taking part in the investigation is a small army of consultants, archivists, translators of John Paul's writings, and oncologists and psychologists who examine the medical evidence for reported miracles.

There are also journalists who put out a monthly magazine -- Totus Tuus, or Totally Yours -- devoted completely to the status of John Paul's case. Translated into seven languages, the publication has 8,000 subscribers. "We can't even count the documents we get; there are too many," Aleksandra Zapotoczny, who writes for the magazine and translates letters and testimonies from Polish speakers, said with a grin.

The lead investigator, Monsignor Slawomir Oder of Poland, announced earlier this year that a 2,000-page report about John Paul's life and virtues had been completed by officials at the Rome Diocese (the first phase of such a study is handled by the diocese where the potential saint died) and sent to the Vatican's 34-member Congregation for the Causes of Saints.

Read the entire piece on MSNBC.com.

Available from Ignatius Press:

• Miracles of John Paul II, by Pawel Zuchniewicz. "An instant best-seller when released in Europe, this powerful book describes the life and impact of Pope John Paul II as told by individuals from all over the world who give moving personal testimonies how they experienced healings through the intercession of Pope John Paul II during his lifetime. From little children to old age adults, including Cardinals, well-known lay people and many others, these detailed testimonies reveal amazing healings and answers to prayers through the direct intervention of John Paul II while still alive."

• Books and Videos by and about Karol Wojtyla/Pope John Paul II

The Renewal of Vatican II: Distractions and Distortions

The Renewal of Vatican II: Distractions and Distortions | Douglas Bushman, S.T.L. | Ignatius Insight

Years of teaching courses on Vatican II and Ecclesiology have provided me the data of an ongoing survey that continues to produce amazingly consistent results. The question is simple: "What is the first word that comes to mind when I say, 'Vatican II'?" Invariably the response is "renewal" and "change." The same answer comes from countless groups of adults with whom I have reflected on the Council that Pope John Paul II described as "the gift of the Holy Spirit" to the Church of our time.

The follow-up question produces similarly consistent results, though it may be difficult to discern at first. To the question, "What kind of change?" people point first to the liturgy: Mass said in English, priest facing the assembly, laity serving as extraordinary ministers of the Eucharist, communion received in the hand. Often mentioned is the adaptation of the discipline of abstinence from meat on Friday. Others point to participation on parish or diocesan pastoral or finance councils, while some refer to institutional innovations such as the synod of bishops, the International Theological Commission, and the many new pontifical councils.

Seemingly widely diverse, these examples have something in common; they are visible and institutional changes. Observable changes such as these naturally draw our attention; they are the first things we notice. The Council, however, did not see changes as ends in themselves, but as means to something higher. The challenge is to look beyond them, or through them, to discover that more profound reality. Such a "looking beyond" is natural for Catholic faith, which perceives the Son of God in Jesus of Nazareth, and the bestowal of grace in the visible signs we call sacraments.

What is that more profound reality? It is holiness, as unchanging in its nature as doctrine, the essence of the sacraments, and the hierarchical constitution of the Church. Holiness, that is, life in communion with God in faith, hope and charity lived in the ongoing conversion that is an unending task for the Church, is fundamentally the same in all ages. The real challenge of Vatican II is the change or renewal of hearts that in the Gospels is called metanoia.

Read the entire article...

ABC News = "All Benedict Clichés"

This May 2nd ABC News piece goes looking for the "softer" and "gentler" Pope Benedict XVI, breaks out some burnt out clichés, and produces a vague "story" about how the media responds when the subject of a media-created stereotype fails to go along with that stereotype:

During his recent visit, Benedict showed a side the public had never seen before. He became the first pope to visit an American synagogue and noticeably doted on babies.

Benedict has, however, visited a synagogue in Germany (in 2005), and he has apparently doted on non-American children. If by "the public" is meant the "American public", then this makes some sense. But since this was Benedict's first visit to the U.S., I'm inclined to conclude that nearly everything would be a "first": Benedict takes his first step on U.S. soil. Benedict breathes his first breath of U.S. air. Benedict makes first visit to the White House. Benedict says his first Mass at Yankee Stadium. And so forth.

He's been pontiff for three years, but for many Americans, Benedict was still best known as the pope who followed John Paul II.

Hey, are Americans smart or what? (Raucous laughter.) I bet most Americans also know that Benedict is quite likely the pope who comes prior to the pope who follows him. This is very good stuff!

He seemed to be the very opposite of Paul, who was something of a rock star among Catholics and chipped away at the Iron Curtain and won over the hearts of Catholic youth with his very public warmth.

Seemed to be. Why? To whom? Really now, shouldn't a journalist be interested in getting past stupid caricatures that don't help explain, clarify, or demonstrate anything? Why, I can think of quite a few similarities between the two men: Catholic priests, intellectually gifted, well-educated, theological experts at Vatican II, dialogued with Jews and others, addressed secularism and relativism and numerous related problems, worked closely together for over 20 years, and so forth and so on.

Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger -- as Benedict used to be known -- was considered to be a stern hard-liner. He served John Paul II as "defender of the faith," responsible for protecting Catholic orthodoxy, earning the nickname of "God's Rottweiler."

Again, why? Seriously: who was it that labeled Ratzinger as "a stern hard-liner" and named him "God's Rottweiler"? Who is it who comes up with all of the negative, often infantile, nicknames? Who has promoted those nicknames heavily? And honestly, did anyone in the MSM really think that John Paul II wasn't a "hard-liner" who upheld Church teaching? Anyone?

But Benedict's first visit to the United States was one that portrayed him as cuddly and soft. This has led some to question whether the pope so many had written off as a tough guy is really a teddy bear in disguise.

What is this: a news report or a note in a high school yearbook? "hi jimmy. i'm so glad u and i got to no each other this year. at first i thought u were stuck on yerself. but yer actually really cool. yer like a teddy bare! yer friend. xxx ooo, beth." And how, I must ask, does a visit "portray" someone?

Now, however, the world stage has seen this warmer side. Many are watching and waiting, to see whether the soft side of the pope will emerge more frequently, particularly during his trip to Australia this summer -- now that he's seen how well it went over in the states.

What is this: a piece of journalism or a gossip column for People magazine? "The in-demand actor is considered warm and approachable, a spring personality with a summer wardrobe, whose presence melts hearts and brings smiles to the most hardened industry veterans. The emergence of his effusive, sunny side has been a welcome surprise, especially since it was only three years ago that he, in a fit of drunken rage, stormed off of the 'Tonight Show' after being asked if he still tortured small animals and listened to Rush Limbaugh."

Well, enough fun for now. The ABC piece was apparently the print version of a "report" given by reporter Claire Shipman. NewBusters.org has the full story, including audio and a transcript, of Shipman's shipwreck of a report.

"Theology matters!": On the need for true humility and theological conviction

Since June 2007 I've been teaching a weekly Bible study on the Gospel of John at my parish. Last night we finally made it to the "Book of Glory," chapters 13-20, which marks a key transition from Jesus' public ministry to his private discourse to his disciples prior to his passion, crucifixion, and Resurrection.

One of many themes or qualities that has often caught my attention during this study is how Jesus, far from being a meek, mild, and mellow fellow, is often downright confrontational, purposefully (and very strategically) entering into debate and argument with various religious leaders, including those intent on doing away with him. Anyone who opines about how Jesus is all about "love"—that is, a sentimental, sickly love based in non-dogmatic affirmation—has never seriously read the Gospel of John. It's not that Jesus doesn't talk about love (on the contrary), or that the Apostle John doesn't write about love; rather, the love that Jesus demonstrates is a clear-eyed, firm, and challenging love that has no interest in being comfortable, let alone avoiding confrontation.

In keeping with that fact, one of the great themes of the Gospel is of the separation of light from darkness: "In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it" (Jn 1:4-5). In John 8, Jesus declares, "I am the light of the world; he who follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life" (8:12). Put into modern parlance, this is rather dogmatic stuff; that is, Jesus is making definite, distinctive statements about who he is, and in doing so he is drawing a clear and emphatic line between those who follow him and those who reject him. Suffice to say, the man who a bit later states, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father, but by me" (Jn 14:6) is not the sort of man who cares about winning brownie points for avoiding polarizing positions.

And yet Jesus also talks about and demonstrates humility and service. In chapter 13, having washed the feet of his disciples—a task suited for slaves or servants—Jesus said the following:

You call me Teacher and Lord; and you are right, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Truly, truly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master; nor is he who is sent greater than he who sent him. If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them. I am not speaking of you all; I know whom I have chosen; it is that the scripture may be fulfilled, 'He who ate my bread has lifted his heel against me.' I tell you this now, before it takes place, that when it does take place you may believe that I am he. Truly, truly, I say to you, he who receives any one whom I send receives me; and he who receives me receives him who sent me." (Jn 13:14-20)

This is the sort of paradoxical language that can bring on a strong case of cognitive dissonance for a modern reader—if they don't misrepresent what Jesus said and did. For example, someone might say, "Hey, Jesus is simply saying, 'I'm just like you guys. So if I can be humble, so can you!" But, of course, Jesus has already spent time claiming that he is, "I AM"—that is, he is divine (Jn 8:58)—and that he is the Teacher and Lord of the disciples.

Or, we might be tempted to say, "Jesus is showing them that true love is about serving one another." That is true, but if we stop there, we might overlook these unsettling words from the next chapter: "If a man loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him. He who does not love me does not keep my words; and the word which you hear is not mine but the Father's who sent me" (Jn 14:23-24). An essential part of loving God is obeying God, and that obedience comes from believing the words of Jesus, including his claim that he is God, he is the way, the truth, and the life, he is the Savior of the world.

The point I'm getting at is simply this: contrary to what far too many people think, true humility and theological conviction are not only compatible, they will be evident in those who are most aware of who they are in the eyes of God and in relation to the person of Jesus Christ. Put another way, a true disciple of Jesus Christ does not have to decide between being attentive to doctrine or being concerned with serving others—he must do both. (Which is one reason why Pope Benedict's first encyclical, Deus Caritas Est, had two part: the first on the theology of love, and the second on the practice of love.) The service and love that Jesus demonstrated in the Upper Room and on the Cross was part and parcel of Who he is and What he was sent by the Father to accomplish. If this simple but apparently upsetting truth was put on a bumper sticker or coffee mug, it might be in the form of "Theology matters!", or, "It's the theology, stupid!"

This false dichotomy between theological truth and lived humility informed a great deal of the media coverage of Pope Benedict's visit. It became something of a game as to who could create the most simplistic and misleading contrast: the gentle, loving John Paul II vs. the dogmatic, rigid Benedict XVI, or the old, harsh Ratzinger vs. the new, loving Benedict. It was all nonsense. But it reflects, I think, the very sort of "either/or" mentality with which many people see (or claim to see) in the Gospels: the harsh, condemning Jesus vs. the loving, meek Jesus. But if Jesus truly does love the world (Jn 3:16) and is the light of the world, sent by the Father, should we be surprised that he expresses displeasure when the world rejects him, his Father, his message, and his disciples (Jn 15:18-27)?

An example of this dichotomy, as it pertains to the Vicar of Christ, can be found in a column in today's Chicago Sun-Times, "More German shepherd than Rottweiler," written by Cathleen Falsani. There is, first, the obligatory contrast with John Paul II, along with all of the usual descriptives:

During the reign of the beloved, highly personable and thoroughly Polish Pope John Paul II, Ratzinger had been the head of the Vatican's Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith -- the Vatican's doctrinal enforcer.

Many people were disappointed that the new pope was the man they knew as the austere, hyper-conservative cardinal nicknamed "God's Rottweiler."

In the three years since Pope Benedict assumed his role as shepherd of the world's more than 1 billion Roman Catholics, he has not ruled with the iron fist that some Catholics anticipated. But he hasn't entirely filled the shoes of Pope John Paul II -- an international superstar with the robust physique, artsy disposition and almost mischievous twinkle in his eye. (Although the fire-engine red loafers Benedict has taken to sporting are a step in the right direction.)

(I'm hoping that Falsani is simply trying to be cute with that last sentence; if not, it ranks very high on the Shallowness Meter.) Then, having created—or relied on, as it were—the stereotype of the Dogmatic, Iron-Fisted Ratzinger, Falsani contrast him with the new, loving Benedict:

Benedict showed the warmth and kindness that people who have known him privately for years insist is very much central to who he is. [Note: Yes, they keep insisting and wondering: "Is anyone ever going to listen to us?"] Even before he landed on U.S. soil, the new pope addressed the sex-abuse travesty head on, calling it shameful and incomprehensible.

After he landed, the pope continued to talk about the scandal and met face-to-face with victims of clergy abuse, a Christ-like pastoral move that was felt well beyond the few souls he met with privately.

How interesting and revealing is that descriptive: "a Christ-like pastoral move..." When Cardinal Ratzinger, as head of the CDF, released the document Dominus Iesus, does anyone recall it being described as a "Christ-like teaching move"? Of course not, because we all know that Jesus would never make absolute statements, upset his listeners, condemn wrong beliefs and behavior, or confront those who denied him! Except, of course, that Jesus did all of those things—and quite often. Yes, Benedict's meeting was Christ-like and it was pastoral, but so are his talks and actions that are often dismissed as "harsh" or "rigid" or "dogmatic." There is not one without the other; they cannot be separated, no matter how hard some people want them thoroughly divorced from one another.

And then there is the word "move." I would let it go, but Falsani concludes her column with this:

While the pope prepared to preach in New York Sunday, I was at a church in Grand Rapids, Mich., where I heard a sermon that made me think of him.

The pastor spoke about St. Paul's Letter to the Philippians, where St. Paul talks about Jesus' tenderness and compassion and says we should treat each other likewise.

The Greek words St. Paul uses to describe the kind of encouragement and comfort Jesus offers paints an image, the Michigan pastor said, of someone walking alongside of you, slipping an arm around your shoulders and whispering in your ear, "It's gonna be OK. . . . Keep walking."

As he walked among his American flock, that is precisely what Pope Benedict XVI, in his understated way, did. Much more like the German shepherd that he is than any sort of Rottweiler.

Well played, Your Holiness.

Thank you.

And please remember that your soft side is also your best.

Ignoring, if possible, the cloying condescension, you have to wonder at the phrase, "Well played, Your Holiness." Another attempt at cuteness, but also indicating (along with the word "move" above) that Falsani cannot see the forest for the trees. Likewise, talk about Benedict's "soft side" is also foolish. Shall we also talk about the "soft side" and the "hard side" of Jesus?

Jesus, in the Upper Room, told the apostles: "Truly, truly, I say to you, he who receives any one whom I send receives me; and he who receives me receives him who sent me." The Holy Father, as a successor to Saint Peter, the first pope, proclaims the fullness of the Gospel, the entire Jesus, the complete story of salvation. If we pretend there is no darkness, we will not see the light of the world, but will, with the world, reject the light (cf., Jn 1:9-10). If we dismiss the teachings of Jesus, we also reject the loving person of Jesus. If we fail to acknowledge the Teacher and Lord, we fail to really serve one another; likewise, "He who does not love me does not keep my words."