Catholic Metanarrative: November 2009

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Article: The Art of Living: The First Step of Prudence

EDWARD P. SRI

Prudence is the virtue that most immediately helps us live our lives on target.

When we regret a decision, find ourselves in a sticky situation that was quite avoidable, or just sense our lives are not heading in the right direction, it is often because this foundational cardinal virtue was not at the forefront of our actions.

Called "the charioteer of the virtues"(Catechism of the Catholic Church, no. 1806), prudence directs all the other virtues, pointing them to their proper end. Without prudence, one's life might look like a horse and chariot running away without a driver-a lot of energy, speed, and commotion, but not going in the right direction.

Prudence entails practical wisdom. It enables us "to discern our true good in every circumstance and to choose the right means of achieving it" (Catechism, no. 1806). How well prudence is developed will affect every aspect of our lives. It takes prudence to buy a car or a house and to make a good financial investment. It takes prudence to raise children well, advance one's career, or ask a girl on a date. Prudence is well-ordered reason applied to action, so that we not only know the right thing to do, but also how and when to do it.

There are three key aspects of prudence: counsel, judgment, and decisiveness. Each of these is necessary, but in this reflection, we focus on the first step for prudence: counsel.

Counsel

Have you ever made a decision you wish you could take back? St. Thomas Aquinas reminds us that prudent decisions require counsel, which is the "act of inquiry." This is the first step, in which we gather the information necessary to make a good decision.

For example, when buying a car, it is not wise to show up at a car dealer and purchase the first auto one sees. The prudent man assesses how much money he can spend and what kind of car fits his needs and his budget. He may also test drive different cars, look at consumer reviews, or talk to friends who own the kinds of cars he is considering.

While this might seem like commonsense, many of us make poor decisions that we later regret because we failed to take this first necessary step. We rush into a decision without adequately considering the necessary data. We purchase something spontaneously and later realize we didn't really need it and should have saved the money for something else. We commit our time to some activity and later kick ourselves for it because we should have known our plates were already quite full.

Aquinas calls this defect in counsel "precipitation," which refers to bringing about an action prematurely or hastily. Just as rain and snow fall to the ground, so do we stumble and fall when we fail to take the necessary steps of counsel.

Piano Man

Shortly after we moved into our first home, I dreamed of having a piano for our children. But quickly after looking into piano prices, I knew we could not afford even a used one any time in the near future. Just then, a friend of mine who was moving told me his piano would not fit into his new home. It was an old standing grand piano-a little worn over the years, with one of the keys needing repair, but still in decent condition. He offered to give it to me for free if I helped him transport it out on moving day.

I was ecstatic. I told my 2-year-olddaughter Madeleine the good news, and she repeated "Piano! Piano!" with excitement that day. We got up early the next morning to make space in our living room, and I left to go pick it up. Madeleine waved tome from the window, anxiously awaiting there turn of Daddy and the new piano.

Aquinas mentions three weaknesses that cause precipitous action.

My friend and I recruited a few other men to help us load the piano onto a pickup truck. Despite the awkward shape of the standing grand, we got it out of the house and successfully lifted it upright into the truck. We were off to my home, just seven blocks away!

Of course, we drove slowly and carefully as we headed straight east on the first five blocks of our journey. Then, we made our first turn onto Fifth Street and my house came into view.

At that moment, I heard a sound I'll never forget. The noise sounded like someone banging on the piano as we were halfway through the turn. My heart sank. I looked into the review mirror and saw the standing grand piano no longer standing upright. It was falling out of the truck, and there was nothing I could do. In the span of just two or three seconds-which seemed tome like a helpless eternity-I watched in the rear view mirror as the piano fell out of the truck upside down, bounced on the street, and broke into pieces.

In our concern to get the big, odd-sized piano out the front door and onto the truck, we did not think through the remaining steps: We forgot to tie down the piano to the truck! Because we failed to think through the whole process, our family's dreams for a piano were shattered with the standing grand on Fifth Street that day. I came home to my daughter empty-handed, and for the next several weeks, whenever a visitor came to our home, she would walk them over to the spot in our living room where the piano was supposed to reside and say to them, "Piano broke. . . . Piano broke. . . ."

Defects in Counsel

Aquinas mentions three weaknesses that cause precipitous action. The first weakness is impulse. This is when a person gives little thought to a decision and runs with his initial reaction. He fails to think through his course of action. This may concern smaller matters, such as spending a lot more time on the Internet than planned on a given evening or buying a few extra items at the grocery store that were not on the list.

It may affect bigger issues, such as accumulating a lot of debt for things one could not truly afford. The average credit card debt among all American households recently hit $8,400. Many families find themselves enslaved for years struggling to pay off not only credit cards, but cars, homes, and other items, as they were trying to live beyond their means. Thinking through one's finances and expenses more carefully can save a lot of grief, just as foresight with the piano move would have prevented much heartache in our home.

A second cause of rushed decisions is what Aquinas calls passion -- being carried away by our emotions. When we're angry, for example, we say things we later regret. When we're impatient with our kids, we may lose our temper and make things worse. When we're afraid, we often overact to problems and make unwise moves. When a young person falls in love, she may idealize her beloved and not see serious faults that will come back to haunt her.

Are you someone who has a difficult time saying no to others when they ask for something? When we're afraid to say no, various emotions might be at work: We don't want to let other people down, we don't want others to think less of us, we like being the one people turn to for help, we will feel guilty if we turn down certain family members or friends, etc. In our pride, vanity, insecurity, or greed, we have difficulty refusing other people when they come to us with a request, even though saying no may be the most prudent thing for us to do. Heeding others' requests may flow from generosity, but in some cases, it may be the result of disordered emotions dominating our decision-making process, leading us to make poor choices.

Men and Directions

A third cause of poorly-thought-out choices is stubbornness. This fault is not simply forgetting to think things through or making a decision based on one's emotions. The stubborn person deliberately refuses to gather information or take time to weigh a decision. My father, for example, was notorious in our family for getting lost when driving. We now joke about the family vacations when he was lost and did not like admitting so. Like many men, my dad did not want to stop at a gas station to ask for directions. He would rather keep driving than admit defeat, even though the rest of us pleaded for him to turn around or look at a map!

We can be stubborn not only in driving a car, but also in the way we steer our lives. Some choleric, "type-A" personalities are afraid to ask for help when things are not going well. They do not want to appear as if they do not know what they are doing. So rather than humbly seeking help, they plow ahead and give the appearance they have everything in control.

Some people, when making a big, life changing decision or facing a certain moral dilemma, are afraid to seek God's will in the matter. They might say some prayers about it, but they are not truly open to all the options and to whatever God might want them to do, say, or give up. In these moments of discernment, we might even avoid certain people's counsel because we are afraid of what that person may say. So instead of talking to a particular friend or priest, we seek advice only from the people we think will agree with the direction we want to go.

Counsel is the crucial first aspect of prudence. But no matter how much one gathers information and thinks through a decision, unless he makes a good judgment and acts on it, he does not have the virtue of prudence. In our next reflection, we will consider the next two aspects of prudence: judgment and decisiveness.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Edward P. Sri. "The Art of Living: The First Step of Prudence." Lay Witness (May/June 2009).

This article is reprinted with permission from Lay Witness magazine.

Lay Witness is a publication of Catholic United for the Faith, Inc., an international lay apostolate founded in 1968 to support, defend, and advance the efforts of the teaching Church.

THE AUTHOR

Dr. Edward (Ted) Sri is provost and professor of theology at the Augustine Institute in Denver, Colorado (www.augustineinstitute.org) and a frequent contributor to Lay Witness. Edward Sri is the author of Queen Mother, Mystery of the Kingdom, and The New Rosary in Scripture: Biblical Insights for Praying the 20 Mysteries. His books are available by calling Benedictus Books toll-free at (888) 316-2640. CUF members receive a 10% discount.

Article: The Surprising Fact of Morality

DINESH D'SOUZA

Evolutionists have some ingenious explanations for morality. But do they work?

Morality is both a universal and a surprising fact about human nature. When I say that morality is universal I am not referring to this or that moral code. In fact, I am not referring to an external moral code at all. Rather, I am referring to morality as the voice within, the interior source that Adam Smith called the "impartial spectator." Morality in this sense is an uncoercive but authoritative judge. It has no power to compel us, but it speaks with unquestioned authority. Of course we can and frequently do reject what morality commands, but when we do so we cannot avoid guilt or regret. It is because of our capacity for self-impeachment and remorse that Aristotle famously called man "the beast with the red cheeks." Aristotle's description holds up very well more than 2,000 years later. Even people who most flagrantly repudiate morality -- say, a chronic liar or a rapacious thief -- nearly always respond to detection with excuses and rationalizations. They say, "Yes, I lied, but I had no alternative under the circumstances," or "Yes, I stole, but I did so to support my family." Hardly anyone says, "Of course I am a liar and a thief, and I don't see anything wrong with that." What this means is that morality supplies a universal criterion or standard even though this standard is almost universally violated.

Morality is a surprising feature of humanity because it seems to defy the laws of evolution. Evolution is descriptive: It says how we do behave. Morality is prescriptive: It says how we should behave. And beyond this, evolutionary behavior appears to run in the opposite direction from moral behavior. Evolution implies that we are selfish creatures who seek to survive and reproduce in the world. Indeed we are, but we are also unselfish creatures who seek the welfare of others, sometimes in preference to our own. We are participants in the fame of life, understandably partial to our own welfare, while morality stands aloof, taking the impartial, or "God's eye," view, directing us to act in a manner conducive to the good of others. In sum, while evolution provides a descriptive account of human self-interest, morality provides a standard of human behavior that frequently operates against self-interest.

So if we are mere evolutionary primates, how to account for morality as a central and universal feature of our nature? Why would morality develop among creatures obsessively bent on survival and reproduction? Darwin himself recognized the problem. In The Descent of Man, Darwin argued that "although a high standard of morality gives but a slight or no advantage to each individual man and his children over the other men of the same tribe, yet . . . an advancement in the standard of morality will certainly give an immense advantage to one tribe over another." Darwin's point is that a tribe of virtuous patriots, with each of its members willing to make sacrifices for the group, would prove more successful and thus be favored by natural selection over a tribe of self-serving individuals. This is the group-selection argument, and for many decades it was considered an acceptable way to reconcile evolution with morality.

But as biologists now recognize, the argument has a fatal flaw. The question we have to ask is how a tribe of individuals would become self-sacrificing in the first place. Imagine a tribe where, for instance, many people shared their food with others or volunteered to defend the tribe from external attack. Now what would be the fate of individual cheaters who benefited from this arrangement but hoarded their own food and themselves refused to volunteer to fight? Clearly these scoundrels would have the best deal of all. In other words, cheaters could easily become free riders, benefiting from the sacrifices of others but making no sacrifices themselves, and they would be more likely to survive than their more altruistic fellow tribesmen.

In The Origins of Virtue Matt Ridley gives a more contemporary example. If everyone in a community could be relied on not to steal cars, cars would not have to be locked, and a great deal of expense would be saved on insurance, locking devices, and alarms. The whole community would be better off. But, Ridley notes, "In such a trusting world, an individual can make himself even better off by defecting from the social contract and stealing a car." By this logic, even tribes that somehow started out patriotic and altruistic would soon become filled with self-serving cheaters. The free-rider problem doesn't apply to all situations -- there are very limited circumstances in which group selection still works -- but its discovery has pretty much sunk Darwin's group-selection argument as a general explanation for morality within an evolutionary framework.

It is because of our capacity for self-impeachment and remorse that Aristotle famously called man "the beast with the red cheeks."

In the 1960s and early 1970s, biologists William Hamilton and Robert Trivers offered an entirely new and more promising way to solve the problem. Their work is summarized in Richard Dawkins's best book, The Selfish Gene. Drawing on the research of Hamilton and Trivers, Dawkins argues that the basic unit of survival is not the individual but rather the gene. In one of his most memorable formulations, he writes that we individuals are "survival machines -- robot vehicles blindly programmed to preserve the selfish molecules known as genes." At first glance this seems like a crazy way to think about evolution, but Dawkins, employing a presuppositional argument of his own, notes that if we think of things in this way, we can explain morality to a degree that previously seemed impossible.

The ingenuity of the selfish-gene theory is that it explains morality as a result not of individual selfishness but rather of genetic selfishness. "Altruism," writes biologist E. O. Wilson, "is conceived as the mechanism by which DNA multiplies itself." This may seem like a cold way to think about altruism, but there is some logic behind it. Think of a mother who runs into a burning building to save her two children trapped inside. An act of pure maternal unselfishness? Well, it looks that way. But William Hamilton reminds us that 50 percent of a child's genes come from the mother. If two or more children are involved, then it makes rational sense for a mother to jeopardize her own survival if she can enhance the prospects of her genes surviving through her offspring. What looks like altruism from the individual point of view can be understood as selfishness from the genetic point of view.

Morality, in Hamilton's framework, is a form of nepotistic "kin selection." This idea helps us understand why certain insects, birds, and animals endanger their own welfare to promote that of their fellow creatures. Vervet monkeys and prairie dogs, for instance, give warning calls that signal approaching predators, sometimes at the cost of becoming the target of those predators. Why would they risk their lives in this way? Kin selection holds that it is because they are genetically related to those they are helping. So there is an evolutionary payoff: The risk-takers are maximizing not their individual chance for survival but the chance for their genes to make it into future generations. From the gene's point of view, helping one's kin is simply a form of helping oneself.

But of course kin selection is a very limited explanation, in that it only accounts for why animals and people behave altruistically toward relatives. In life, however, humans and even some animals behave that way toward innumerable others who don't share their genes. Robert Trivers argued that this is because of "reciprocal altruism." A better term would be reciprocal bargaining: What Trivers means is that creatures behave generously toward others in the expectation that they will get something in return. Vampire bats, for instance, share food not only with relatives but also with other bats who have recently shared with them. Other animals also practice this kind of give-and-take. Trivers does not suggest that animals engage in conscious planning or deliberation; rather, he argues that natural selection has rewarded with survival the instincts for engaging in mutually beneficial exchanges. And of course in human society we routinely exchange favors with neighbors and acquaintances; we even do business with total strangers, all motivated by the principle of "you do something for me and I'll do something for you." So here too altruism is understood as a form of extended or long-term selfishness.

Even reciprocal altruism, however, cannot explain the good things that we do that offer no actual return. A fellow gets up to give his seat on the bus to an 80-year-old woman. No, she isn't grandma, nor is it reasonable to say that he's doing it so that next week she will give him her seat. So neither kin selection nor reciprocal altruism provides any solution in this case. Moreover, altruism of this sort occurs on a regular basis throughout human society. Many people give blood without any expectation of return. Others volunteer to help the severely disabled. Others donate money to purchase malaria nets or to assist AIDS victims in Africa. Still others agitate against animal abuse in their own community or sex trafficking in Thailand or religious persecution in Tibet. Throughout the centuries there have been people who have devoted themselves to improving the lives of impoverished strangers, or risked their lives to benefit folks who are unrelated to them and cannot possibly reciprocate these sacrifices.

Some biologists concede that evolution is at a loss here. "Altruism toward strangers," writes biologist Ernst Mayr, "is a behavior not supported by natural selection."

Some biologists concede that evolution is at a loss here. "Altruism toward strangers," writes biologist Ernst Mayr, "is a behavior not supported by natural selection." Still, some diehard champions of evolution do try to accommodate such behavior within their evolutionary framework. Their best attempt is to argue that seemingly disinterested altruism toward strangers has a well-hidden personal motive. Essentially it is performed in order to enhance one's social reputation. Reputation is valuable because it raises one's position in society and perhaps even improves one's mating prospects. Michael Shermer recognizes that it is possible to gain a good reputation by faking a dedication to the public welfare. He argues, however, that such schemes may well be exposed over time. According to Shermer, "The best way to convince others that you are a moral person is not to fake being a moral person but actually to be a moral person." Psychologist David Barash makes the same point: "Be moral, and your reputation will benefit." The motive here remains one of personal enhancement; we are helping others not for their sake but for our sake. Once again, morality is explained as the outward disguise of the selfish gene.

But Shermer and Barash never really contend with the Machiavellian objection to their argument. Machiavelli argues that "the man who wants to act virtuously in every way necessarily comes to grief among so many who are not virtuous." A rich man who is habitually generous, Machiavelli remarks, will soon become a poor man. Much better, Machiavelli craftily counsels, to acquire the image of magnanimity while giving away as little as possible. In other words, it is preferable to seem virtuous than to actually be virtuous. "Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experience what you really are." Machiavelli insists that the people who prosper most in the world are the ruthless people who employ virtue only occasionally and instrumentally for strategic gain. If Machiavelli is right, then under the rules of natural selection it is the moral pretenders, not the truly moral, who will prosper and multiply. And for empirical evidence Machiavelli could surely point to the successful connivers in our society and every other one.

Of course if there is cosmic justice in the afterlife, then the bad guys ultimately lose. We see this in a beautiful example from Dante's Inferno, where in the circle of the fraudulent we encounter Guido da Montefeltro. Guido's martial prowess as a Ghibelline general has been largely due to his mastery of what he calls the "arts of the fox." He is highly successful in his scams, and is never called to account. In short, he is a true Machiavellian. And late in life he dons the robes of a Franciscan friar, not because he repents of his earlier misdeeds, but in an attempt to fool God and make it to paradise. "And oh, to think it might have worked!" he says in one of the great lines of the Commedia. Unlike gullible humans, however, God can't be duped, and so Guido gets his comeuppance.

As we see from this example, cosmic justice always evens the scales, but it simply defies reality to contend that in this world the scales are always even. Terrestrial justice is flawed and imperfect, and thus Barash and Shermer's claim that morality always pays right here on earth isn't very convincing.

Life After Death: The Evidence

by Dinesh D'Souza
(Regnery Press, 256 pages)

From these examples, we learn that science regularly posits unseen entities, from space-time relativity to dark matter, whose existence is affirmed solely on the basis that they explain the things that we can see and measure. We also learn that gaps are a good thing, not a bad thing, and the genuinely scientific approach is to ask whether they are clues that lead to a broader and deeper comprehension of things. We also learn how presuppositional arguments work best, both in science and outside of science. The presupposition itself is a kind of hypothesis. It says, "This is the way things have to be in order to make sense of the world." We then test the presupposition by saying, "How well does it explain the world?" We cannot answer this question without asking, "Are there alternative explanations that work better?" If so, then we can do without the presupposition. If not, then the presupposition, unlikely though it may seem, remains the best explanation of the data that we have before us. We have to accept what it posits until a better explanation comes along. My hypothesis on offer is that "There has to be cosmic justice in a world beyond the world in order to make sense of the observed facts about human morality." Let us proceed to test this hypothesis.

Dinesh D'Souza on Life After Death

Part 1 - The Impartial Spectator - A moral argument for life after death.

Part 2 - The Surprising Fact of Morality - Evolutionists have some ingenious explanations for morality. But do they work?

Part 3 - Cosmic Justice - If evolution cannot explain how humans became moral primates, what can?

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Dinesh D'Souza. "The Surprising Fact of Morality." National Review Online (November 4, 2009).

This article is reprinted with permission from Dinesh D'Souza. To subscribe to the National Review write P.O. Box 668, Mount Morris, Ill 61054-0668 or phone 815-734-1232.

THE AUTHOR

Dinesh D'Souza is the Robert and Karen Rishwain Fellow at the Hoover Institution at Stanford University. D'Souza has been called one of the "top young public-policy makers in the country" by Investor's Business Daily. His areas of research include the economy and society, civil rights and affirmative action, cultural issues and politics, and higher education. Dinesh D'Souza's latest book is Life After Death: The Evidence. He is also the author of: What's So Great About Christianity, The Enemy at Home: The Cultural Left and Its Responsibility for 9/11, Letters to a Young Conservative, What's So Great about America, Illiberal Education: The Politics of Race and Sex on Campus; The End of Racism; Ronald Reagan: How an Ordinary Man Became an Extraordinary Leader; and The Virtue of Prosperity: Finding Values in an Age of Techno-Affluence. Dinesh D'Souza is on the Advisory Board of the Catholic Education Resource Center. Visit his website here.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Wednesday Liturgy: Mentioning Bishops in the Eucharistic Prayers

ROME, NOV. 24, 2009 (Zenit.org).- Answered by Legionary of Christ Father Edward McNamara, professor of liturgy at the Regina Apostolorum university.

Q: During Mass, at the moment of mentioning the local bishop, our parish priest has a habit of mentioning: "Our bishops N.N., N.N., N.N." -- and mentions the local archbishop and another two bishops. Thus, he does not make any distinction between the local bishop and other bishops. I wish to know whether there is a directive about this matter. -- P.G., Qormi, Malta

A: An article on precisely this theme was published in Notitiae, the official organ of the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Sacraments. The title of the Italian-language article, written by Ivan Grigis, is translated as "Regarding the Mention of the Bishop in the Eucharistic Prayer" (Notitiae 45 (2009) 308-320). Although it is a study and not an official decree, the work gathers all the relevant official documentation on the subject.

The article begins from an observation of a subtle change in the rubrics in the 2008 reprinting of the official 2002 Latin Missal. In the new version, No. 149 of the General Introduction to the Roman Missal (GIRM) is modified so that a bishop celebrating outside of his own diocese should first mention the diocesan bishop and then refer to himself as "your unworthy servant." Formerly, he had first referred to himself and then the local bishop.

The author adduces that this apparently minor change is actually based on an ecclesiological principle insofar as, after the pope, ecclesial communion is established through the diocesan bishop who as shepherd of that portion of God's people convokes them to the Eucharist. Therefore, whosoever legitimately presides at the Eucharist always does so in the name of the local shepherd and in communion with him.

Another change in the reprinted missal is the footnote at the corresponding part of each Eucharistic Prayer explaining the optional mention of other bishops. The 2002 footnote says that the coadjutor auxiliary or another bishop can be mentioned as described in GIRM No. 149. The 2008 version eliminates the clause "or another bishop." This is consistent with GIRM No. 149, which only foresees the mention of the coadjutor or auxiliary and excludes that of other bishops, even if present at the assembly.

In order to summarize the various rules, we can say the following:

The diocesan bishop or his equivalent must always be mentioned by name in every celebration.

If there is just one coadjutor or auxiliary, he may be mentioned by name if the celebrant wishes.

If there is more than one auxiliary, they may be mentioned collectively, that is, "N., our bishop and his assistant bishops." They are not named separately.

Since only those bishops who actually possess pastoral authority in the diocese are named, it follows that no other bishops are mentioned in the Eucharistic Prayer even if they happen to be present and are presiding at the celebration. In this latter case, the presiding bishop refers to himself in the first Eucharistic Prayer and the other prayers if celebrating alone. Concelebrating priests however, do not mention this bishop's name in the corresponding part of the other Eucharistic Prayers.

In such cases, a petition for the presiding bishop should be included in the prayer of the faithful.

Apart from the aforementioned article, we could mention a couple of special cases. Priests celebrating in Rome can say simply, "N., our Pope," and omit any reference to the diocesan bishop. Some say "N., our Pope and Bishop," but this is not strictly necessary, since being Pope and being Bishop of Rome are one and the same.

During a time of vacancy of the episcopal see, the clause "N., our Bishop" is simply omitted. The same criterion is observed for the mention of the pope during a sede vacante. The name of a temporary diocesan administrator is not mentioned.

Wednesday Liturgy: Follow-up: Questionable Baptism

ROME, NOV. 24, 2009 (Zenit.org).- Answered by Legionary of Christ Father Edward McNamara, professor of liturgy at the Regina Apostolorum university.

There were several reactions to our Nov. 10 piece regarding an invalid procedure in carrying out a baptism. Readers desired to know how far a minister can deviate from the approved rite without invalidating the sacrament.

First of all, there should be no deviations from the approved rite. The present rite of baptism was developed from a pre-eminently pastoral standpoint. Likewise, national bishops' conferences have been granted wide leeway to make further adaptations in the light of each country's particular traditions. Thus, there should be no need for further personal embellishments by ministers in the name of pastoral efficacy but rather an intelligent use of the rich pastoral instrument they have at their disposal.

However, when such abuses do occur it is, thankfully, quite difficult to invalidate the sacrament of baptism as its minimum requirements are very basic.

These minimum requirements consist in the minister pouring water over the person to be baptized while saying the Trinitarian formula: "N., I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit."

Deviations in the form which do not change the essential meaning, such as: "I baptize you in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit," or additions such as "Amen" or "Alleluia" are illicit but would not be sufficient to invalidate the sacrament.

Changes that modify the essential meaning of the Trinitarian formula, such as those mentioned in our previous answer, do invalidate the sacrament.

Deviations or errors in the matter such as failing to pour water three times or failing to immerse at least part of the head during a baptism by immersion would once again be illicit ritual failures, but they would not in themselves make the sacrament invalid.

Wednesday Liturgy: Follow-up: Guarding Against Swine Flu

ROME, NOV. 24, 2009 (Zenit.org).- Answered by Legionary of Christ Father Edward McNamara, professor of liturgy at the Regina Apostolorum university.

After our comments on precautions against swine flu (see Oct. 27 and follow-up on Nov. 10), a reader asked: "At the monastery infirmary, because of their weakened health and the risk of getting the H1N1 infection, priest monks who are concelebrating the Mass do not receive the Precious Blood. I was wondering if that is permitted."

There are two questions involved. One is if it is possible for a concelebrating priest not to receive both species. The answer to this is positive, even though only in grave conditions. The only situation where this permission has been specifically granted is for those priests unable to take any alcohol. This is allowed only for a non-presiding concelebrant and never for a lone celebrant.

The second question is if the desire to prevent infection is a sufficient reason for concelebrating priests not to receive the Precious Blood. I would say that this is not a sufficient reason, even though it is possible that some of these infirm priests might fall into the category of those unable to take alcohol.

It should be a fairly easy task to develop a method for distributing both species that can practically exclude any danger of contagion while maintaining due reverence for the sacred species. For example, the priests could receive by intinction or even, if necessary, using suitable separate spoons.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

The King Who Did Not Bow Down: Biblical Reflection for Solemnity of Christ the King

Father Thomas Rosica, CSB

TORONTO, NOV. 18, 2009 (Zenit.org).- The liturgical year ends with the Solemnity of Christ the King. In John's poignant trial scene of Pilate and Jesus (18:33-37), we see a great contrast between power and powerlessness.

In coming to the Romans to ensure that Jesus would be crucified, the Jewish authorities fulfilled his prophecy that he would be exalted (John 3:14; 12:32-33). Pilate asks Jesus: "Are you the King of the Jews?" (v 33). The accused prepares his answer with a previous question, which provokes the Roman official: "Do you ask this on your own or did others tell you about me?" (v 34).

Pilate's arrogance does not intimidate Jesus, who then gives his own answer in the well-known words: "My kingdom is not from this world" (v 36). At once, Jesus gives the reason: "My kingdom does not use coercion, it is not imposed." Jesus reiterates his point: "My kingdom is not from this world."

Pilate is very astute. He does not see in Jesus' answer a denial of his kingship. In fact, Pilate infers and insists: "So you are a king" (v 37). Jesus accepts his claim without hesitation: "You say that I am a king. For this I came into the world."

For what? To inaugurate a world of peace and fellowship, of justice and respect for other people's rights, of love for God and for one another. This is the kingdom that penetrates our human history, illuminating it and leading it beyond itself, a kingdom that will have no end. When we pray the Our Father, we pray for this kingdom to come in its fullness.

In this Gospel scene, Pilate reveals himself as a deeply perplexed leader as he encounters one who is Truth. What is there of Pilate inside of each of us? What prevents us from being free? What are our fears? What are our labels? What costumes and masks are we wearing in public and really don't care to jeopardize? What is our capacity for neglecting and trampling on others for the sake of keeping up appearances, maintaining the façade, or the important job, or people's good opinion with regard to our respectability, our reputation or good name?

The Kingdom of Jesus

In the Fourth Gospel, the focus is on the kingship of Christ. The core of Jesus' message is the kingdom of God, and the God of Jesus Christ is the God of the kingdom, the one who has a word and an involvement in human history from which the image of the kingdom is taken. In the kingdom of Jesus, there is no distance between what is religious and temporal, but rather between domination and service.

Jesus' kingdom is unlike the one that Pilate knows and is willingly or unwillingly part of. Pilate's kingdom, and for that matter the Roman kingdom, was one of arbitrariness, privileges, domination and occupation. Jesus' kingdom is built on love, justice and peace.

Jesus proclaims the kingdom of God, the kingdom of holiness and grace, of justice, love and peace. This kingdom is God's final aim and purpose in everything he has done from the beginning. It is his final act of liberation and salvation. Jesus speaks of this kingdom as a future reality, but a reality that is mysteriously already present in his being, his actions and words and in his personal destiny.

If today's solemnity of Christ the King upsets some of us, is it not due to our own disillusionment of earthly kings and leaders, rather than the kingship of Jesus? The kingship and leadership of God's Son refuses rank and privilege, and any attempt to be master of the world. In him there is no lust, greed and ambition for power. He, the innocent king who executes no one, is himself executed. His reign completely overturns our notions of earthly kingship. His is a kingship of ultimate service, even to the point of laying down his life for others.

In John's Gospel, Jesus goes to his death as a king. The crucifixion is Jesus' enthronement, the ultimate expression of royal service. Because of Christ, the coronation of suffering is no longer death, but rather eternal life. Very few can measure up to Jesus' kingly stature, remaining powerless in the face of the powerful. Many of us resist with power, even though we resort to very refined forms of pressure and manipulation. Jesus never responded to violence with more violence.

Two crowns

The solemnity of Christ the King has had particular significance for me since I lived at Ecce Homo Convent, the Sisters of Sion Center on the Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem's Old City during the years of my graduate studies in Scripture. The whole complex is built over what is believed to be Pontius Pilate's judgment hall, the setting for today's striking Gospel scene between Jesus and Pontius Pilate.

The holy sites in Jerusalem, which commemorate events in the life, passion and death of Jesus, often have two feasts throughout the year, feasts that remember the joyful and sorrowful aspects of Jesus' life. Ecce Homo Center's "patronal" feasts are the joyful solemnity of Christ the King at the end of the liturgical year, and the sorrowful feast of Jesus crowned with thorns on the first Friday of Lent.

Two feasts, two crowns, two images of Jesus the Lord set before the Christian community to ponder and imitate.

The feast of Christ the King presents us with the image of Christ crowned -- first with thorns, then with the victor's laurel hat, the evergreen crown of glory. On the day of our baptism, the crown of our head was smeared with the holy oil of chrism, that royal oil that makes us another Christos, another Anointed One. We have the power to live faithfully and love fiercely as Jesus did. The crown of glory -- Christ's very own -- is promised to each of us. Which crown is found at the center of our faith and our proclamation?

Who, if not the condemned Savior?

Jesus answered the Roman governor's questions by declaring that he was a king, but not of this world (cf. John 18: 36). He did not come to rule over peoples and territories, but to set people free from the slavery of sin and to reconcile them with God. He states: "For this I was born, and for this I have come into the world, to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears my voice" (John 18: 37).

What is this "truth" that Christ came into the world to witness to? The whole of his life reveals that God is love: So this is the truth to which he witnessed to the full with the sacrifice of his own life on Calvary. Jesus established the kingdom of God once and for all from the cross. The way to reach this goal is long and admits of no short cuts: Indeed, every person must freely accept the truth of God's love.

God is Love and Truth, and neither Love nor Truth are ever imposed. They stand gently knocking at the doors of our minds and hearts, waiting for us to open the door and welcome them. Yet so often we are afraid to usher in such guests into our lives and earthly kingdoms because of the serious implications associated with such gifts. Many of us resist the truth with power, while others will resort to very refined forms of pressure and manipulation to keep the Truth at bay.

As we contemplate Christ crucified, we understand something of why Christ has remained a king even up to modern times: He didn't bow down. He who was Truth incarnate never imposed himself on others. He stood, waited and knocked. He never responded to violence with more violence.

At the conclusion of the Stations of the Cross at Rome's Coliseum on Good Friday night in the Jubilee Year 2000, Pope John Paul II spoke these moving words: "Who, if not the condemned Savior, can fully understand the pain of those unjustly condemned?

"Who, if not the King scorned and humiliated, can meet the expectations of the countless men and women who live without hope or dignity?

"Who, if not the crucified Son of God, can know the sorrow and loneliness of so many lives shattered and without a future?"

Jesus took his wounds to heaven, and there is a place in heaven for our wounds because our king bears his in glory.

On this last Sunday of the liturgical year, our Crucified King hangs in our midst, arms outstretched in loving mercy and welcome. May we have the courage to ask him to remember us in his kingdom, the grace to imitate him in our own earthly kingdoms, and the wisdom to welcome him when he stands knocking at the doors of our lives and hearts.

[The readings for the solemnity of Christ the King are Deuteronomy 7:13-14; Revelations 1:5-8; and John 18:33b-37]

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Article: On Answering Questions

FATHER JAMES V. SCHALL, S.J.

We never know what curiosities former students will come up with.

Eric Wind, an ex-student long interested in the history of Georgetown College, found for sale on eBay an old examination given at Georgetown in January 1929. (Let me note that this test was not Schall's, as in January of 1929, he was but one year old.) The student taking the test was Lawrence Mehren; it was given by Rev. John J. Murphy, S.J., a name I had not run across before. On the test are twelve questions; the students were asked to do ten. I do not know how much time they were given.

The questions of 1929 are brief and to the point:

What is Faith? What are the two elements of Faith?
Prove that Faith is necessary for salvation.
What is the motive of Faith?
Why is Tradition superior to Holy Scripture?
What is the historical argument for the existence of God?
Prove the unicity of God.
Why is God in no sense responsible for moral evil?
What is the history and significance of the words, Homoousious, Homoiousious, and Filioque?
Why does creation require an infinite being?
Why could not God have created forces in the beginning capable of producing the human soul?
What principle of truth do the Evolutionists neglect?
What scientific evidence is against the evolution of the body of man?

Evidently, Mehren skipped questions 2 and 6. We do not know what grade he received; nor, alas, do we have his answers. Actually, this little test-sheet should go for a lot of chips; I hope the good folks at eBay know what it is. Some wry philanthropist should perhaps give a copy to each of the bishops.

Several things might interest us on reading these "mid-year examination" questions. The first would be that such a list, however interesting, could be found in no examination in any of today's Catholic institutions, probably including seminaries. The second is that the students are not asked their "opinion" or, even worse, their "feelings" on any of these issues. Nor is it asked if they believe in any of the answers they give. They are simply asked to answer the questions in a coherent and intelligent way. No doubt, the professor probably found numerous "wrong" answers among the erstwhile Georgetown students of 1929.

Obviously, evolution was a hot topic at the time. The students must have known that the relation of tradition to Scripture was based on the awareness that Scripture itself depended on some tradition that pre-existed its being written. The students were appraised of the arguments about the meaning of Christ as true God and true man, with its origin within the Trinity.

This course is billed as "apologetics," a word with Socratic overtones. Its presupposition is that any intelligent young man should know many things, whether he likes it or not. (In 1929, the young ladies were attending their own colleges, where they surely were asked similar questions by some perceptive Madame of the Sacred Heart or Dominican nun.)

We seldom teach apologetics any more. We teach theology or religious studies. The first is usually considered a science, though not exactly the same science that Aquinas called it. The second is a sort of survey. The religion requirement has been steadily decreasing in most schools; often there are but two required courses, one a sort of general overview of God and His doings taught by most anyone, the second usually fulfilled by studying what some other religion besides Christianity said about it all. The buzz words are pluralism, tolerance, peace, justice, "let's just get along."

So the reason of faith is worth a look. Our lives may depend on it.

Are there things we should know to be saved? St. Paul and St. John, among others, seem to have thought so. Indeed, revelation itself is something that "seeks intelligence." So the reason of faith is worth a look. Our lives may depend on it.

Whatever we may think of "the scientific evidence against the evolution of the body of man," these questions indicate that in the 80 years since Mehren took his mid-term, a definite devolution of mind is underscored when important questions of what the Faith holds, and why, are simply not asked or authoritatively answered.

Such a test also reminds me of Pope Benedict XVI's Caritas in Veritate. Our academic institutions have replaced theoretic intellect with practical intellect. Ethics has taken the center, not unlike classic Roman thought. But by itself, ethics usually becomes the latest ideology or political enthusiasm. Charity not only needs truth, but students need truth. Without it, they act in a vacuum. Truth asks questions but, more importantly, gives answers. This understanding was at the heart of that 1929 mid-term.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Father James V. Schall, S.J. "On Answering Questions." Inside Catholic (November 2, 2009).

Reprinted with permission of InsideCatholic.com. The mission of InsideCatholic.com is to be a voice for authentic Catholicism in the public square.

THE AUTHOR

Father James V. Schall, S.J., is Professor of Political Philosophy at Georgetown University and the author of many books in the areas of social issues, spirituality and literature including The Mind That Is Catholic: Philosophical & Political Essays, On the Unseriousness of Human Affairs: Teaching, Writing, Playing, Believing, Lecturing, Philosophizing, Singing, Dancing; Roman Catholic Political Philosophy; The Order of Things; The Regensburg Lecture; The Life of the Mind: On the Joys and Travails of Thinking; Schall on Chesterton: Timely Essays on Timeless Paradoxes; Another Sort of Learning, Sum Total Of Human Happiness, and A Student's Guide to Liberal Learning.

Article: The Impartial Spectator

DINESH D'SOUZA

A moral argument for life after death.

"To feel much for others and little for ourselves, to restrain our selfish and indulge our benevolent affections, constitutes the perfection of human nature."

- Adam Smith, The Theory of Moral Sentiments.

In this essay, I offer an original argument for life after death. This is called the presuppositional argument, and it requires a little clarification to show what kind of an argument it is and how it works. Imagine a detective who cannot figure out how his suspect could have committed the crime by himself. For instance, the suspect was indisputably in one location at the time when the body was dumped in another location. Our Lieutenant Columbo puzzles over this and then it hits him: The man must have had an accomplice. Assume an accomplice, and the otherwise inexplicable facts of the case now make sense. So there must have been an accomplice. And even though we don't know anything about the accomplice, the detective's hypothesis is persuasive to the degree that it explains the known facts of the case.

Here's a second example. A woman is baffled by the fact that a man whom she has been dating for years keeps delaying his proposal of marriage. The man keeps telling her that he wants to wait for the right time. She agonizes over the question, "Why won't he commit?" After a while the woman's friends start telling her, "He will never marry you. He has no intention of marrying you." The girlfriends have no direct knowledge of the man or his real intentions. Their assessment is, in this sense, purely conjectural. But it has the merit of being able to explain things that the alternative hypothesis cannot explain. How believable is it that the man who has procrastinated for so long will propose to this woman at some unspecified "right time"? It is much more reasonable to suppose that he is simply making excuses because he doesn't want to get married, at least not to her. In both these examples there is a presupposition of a fact that is not directly known, but the presupposition is convincing because it makes sense of the facts that are known. The facts become, as it were, an empirical test of the validity of the presupposition.

Here is my presuppositional argument for life after death. Unlike material objects and all other living creatures, we humans inhabit two domains: the way things are, and the way things ought to be. In other words, we are moral animals who recognize that just as there are natural laws that govern every object in the universe, there are also moral laws that govern the behavior of one special set of objects in the universe, namely us. While the universe is externally moved by "facts," we are internally moved also by "values." Yet these values defy natural and scientific explanation, because the laws of nature, as discovered by science, concern only the way things are and not the way they ought to be. Moreover, the essence of morality is to curtail and contradict the powerful engine of human self-interest, giving morality an undeniable anti-evolutionary thrust. So how do we explain the existence of moral values that stand athwart our animal nature? The presupposition of cosmic justice, achieved not in this life but in another life beyond the grave, is by far the best and in some respects the only explanation. This presupposition fully explains why humans continue to espouse goodness and justice even when the world is evil and unjust.

Notice what the presuppositional argument does not say. It does not say that because there is injustice in the world there must be justice somewhere else. Nor does it say that the human wish for a better world is enough by itself to produce another world that is better. Rather, it begins with the recognition that while science explains much of nature very well, there is a big part of human nature that science does not seem to explain at all. In particular, evolution does a good job of accounting for why we are selfish animals, but it faces immense challenges in accounting for why we simultaneously hold that we ought not to be selfish. Far from facing the facts of life, like every other animal, we continue to cherish ideals that have never been and will never be fully achieved. We are flawed creatures who act as if we ought not to be. We know that we live in an unjust society where the bad guy often comes out on top and the good guy often comes to grief, yet we continue to hold that this is not how it should be. We continue to say things like "what goes around comes around" even though we know that in this world it is not always so. Despite the harsh facts of life, we tirelessly affirm that it should be so. Our ideals, in other words, contradict the reality of our lives. It seems that we, uniquely among all living and nonliving things, seek to repudiate the laws of evolution and escape the control of the laws of nature.

Now why is this? Why do we continue to operate as if there is a better world with a better set of ideals that stands in judgment of this world? I will argue that the best explanation is that there is such a world. In other words, the presupposition of an afterlife and the realization of the ideal of cosmic justice makes sense of our moral nature better than any competing hypothesis.

In particular, evolution does a good job of accounting for why we are selfish animals, but it faces immense challenges in accounting for why we simultaneously hold that we ought not to be selfish. Far from facing the facts of life, like every other animal, we continue to cherish ideals that have never been and will never be fully achieved.

Before we launch into our discussion, I need to anticipate and answer an objection that will already be surfacing for a certain type of reader. Skeptics will at this point be reacting scornfully to my claim that there are certain features of human nature that seem to defy scientific explanation. The phrase that will be dancing on their lips is "the God of the gaps." What they mean is that I am appealing to God and the supernatural to account for things that science has not yet explained. As Carl Sagan wrote in The Varieties of Scientific Experience, "As science advances, there seems to be less and less for God to do." For the skeptic, the appeal to gaps is a completely illegitimate mode of argument; just because science doesn't have the answer now, that doesn't mean it will not have the answer tomorrow, or at any rate someday. In this view, the God of the gaps is the last desperate move of the theist, who searches for the little apertures in the scientific understanding of the world and then hands over those areas to his preferred deity.

Some creationists do employ this kind of "gaps" reasoning in order to posit a supernatural creator. For instance, they contend that science cannot account for the Cambrian explosion, so God must have directly done that. But there is no reason to think that the Cambrian explosion defies natural explanation, even if we don't have that explanation. So the skeptic's "gaps" critique works against this type of opponent. But it doesn't work with me, because my argument does not rely on God at all. In addition, while the skeptic typically fancies himself a champion of science, his whole line of argument is no less unscientific than that of the creationist. For the skeptic a gap is a kind of nuisance, a small lacuna in scientific knowledge that is conceded to exist as a kind of misfortune, and is expected soon to be cleared up. True scientists, by contrast, love and cherish gaps. They seek out gaps and work laboriously within these crevices because they hope that, far from being a small missing piece of the puzzle, the gap is actually an indication that the whole underlying framework is wrong, that there is a deeper framework waiting to be uncovered, and that the gap is the opening that might lead to this revolutionary new understanding.

Gaps are the mother lode of scientific discovery. Most of the great scientific advances of the past began with gaps and ended with new presuppositions that put our whole comprehension of the world in a new light. The presuppositional argument, in other words, is not some funny way of postulating unseen entities to account for seen ones, but rather is precisely the way that science operates and that scientists make their greatest discoveries. Copernicus, for example, set out to address the gaps in Ptolemy's cosmological theory. As historian Thomas Kuhn shows, these gaps were well recognized, but most scientists did not consider their existence to be a crisis. After all, experience seemed heavily on the side of Ptolemy: The earth seems to be stationary, and the sun looks as if it moves. Kuhn remarks that many scientists sought to fill in the gaps by "patching and stretching," i.e., by adding more Ptolemaic epicycles.

Copernicus, however, saw the gaps as an opportunity to offer a startling new hypothesis. He suggested that instead of taking it for granted that the earth is at the center of the universe and the sun goes around the earth, let's suppose instead that the sun is at the center, and the earth and the other planets all go around the sun. When Copernicus proposed this, he had no direct evidence that it was the case, and he recognized that his theory violated both intuition and experience. Even so, he said, the presupposition of heliocentrism gives a better explanation of the astronomical data and therefore should be accepted as correct. Here is a classic presuppositional argument that closes a gap and in the process gives us a completely new perspective on our place in the universe.

Similarly, Einstein confronted gaps in the attempt of classical physics to reconcile the laws of motion with the laws of electromagnetism. Again, there were many who didn't consider the gap to be very serious. Surely classical Newtonian science would soon figure things out, and the gap would be closed. It took Einstein's genius to see that this gap was no small problem; rather, it indicated a constitutional defect with Newtonian physics as a whole. And without conducting a single experiment or empirical test, Einstein offered a presuppositional solution. He said that we have assumed for centuries that space and time are absolute, and this has produced some seemingly insoluble problems. So what if we change the assumption? What if we say that space and time are relative to the observer? Now we can explain observed facts about electromagnetism and the speed of light that could not previously be accounted for.

Einstein was able to test his theory by applying it to the orbital motion of the planet Mercury. Mercury was known to deviate very slightly from the path predicted by Newton's laws. Another gap! And once again there was a prevailing complacent attitude that some conventional scientific explanation would soon close the gap and settle the anomaly. But in fact the gap was a clue that the entire Newtonian paradigm was inadequate. Einstein recognized his theory as superior to Newton's when he saw that it explained the orbital motion of Mercury in a way that Newton couldn't.

In the last few decades, scientists have accepted the existence of dark matter and dark energy, again on the basis of presuppositional arguments. Here too the problem arose from some gaps. When scientists measured the amount of matter in the universe, it was not enough to hold the galaxies together. When they measured the amount of energy, it was not enough to account for the accelerating pace of the expansion of the universe. Of course these could be considered mere gaps, soon to be eliminated with some new observation or equation, but leading scientists knew better. They recognized that we already know about the matter and energy that our instruments can measure, and these simply cannot account for the behavior of the universe and the galaxies. Consequently, there has to be some other kind of matter and energy, undetectable by all current scientific equipment and following no known scientific law. The gap, in other words, required a reformulation of the entire scientific understanding of matter and energy. On this basis, leading scientists posited the existence of dark matter and dark energy, and, despite initial skepticism, most scientists have accepted their existence because they help to explain phenomena that would otherwise remain largely unknown.

My hypothesis on offer is that "There has to be cosmic justice in a world beyond the world in order to make sense of the observed facts about human morality." Let us proceed to test this hypothesis.

Dinesh D'Souza on Life After Death

Part 1 - The Impartial Spectator - A moral argument for life after death.

Part 2 - The Surprising Fact of Morality - Evolutionists have some ingenious explanations for morality. But do they work?

Part 3 - Cosmic Justice - If evolution cannot explain how humans became moral primates, what can?

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Dinesh D'Souza. "The Impartial Spectator." National Review Online (November 3, 2009).

This article is reprinted with permission from Dinesh D'Souza. To subscribe to the National Review write P.O. Box 668, Mount Morris, Ill 61054-0668 or phone 815-734-1232.

THE AUTHOR

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Wednesday Liturgy: The Sanctus

ROME, NOV. 17, 2009 (Zenit.org).- Answered by Legionary of Christ Father Edward McNamara, professor of liturgy at the Regina Apostolorum university.

Q: When and why did the congregation's phrasing of the first line in the Sanctus in English change from "Holy, holy, holy / Lord God of power and might" to "Holy, holy, holy Lord / God of power and might"? Maybe this is a local practice but it seems the first one is closer to the Latin phrasing: "Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus / Dominus Deus Sabaoth." -- J.M., Ottawa

A: Actually I would say that the second one is closer to the Latin as the current Latin missal contains no separation between the third Sanctus and Dominus. To wit: "Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus Dominus Deus Sabaoth."

This punctuation choice will also be followed in the new English translation, which renders the text as: "Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of hosts. / Heaven and earth are full of your glory. / Hosanna in the highest. / Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. / Hosanna in the highest."

Many traditional Gregorian chant melodies reflect this practice by musically tying the third Sanctus to Dominus rather than treating all three independently. After the publication of the first translation, some popular English melodies took the opposite position and repeated a rousing triple rendition of "Holy, Holy, Holy!"

This early musical choice in English might have led to people in some localities reciting the three Holies in the manner described by our reader, but I am unaware of any official change in the punctuation of the English missal.

The Sanctus is directly inspired by Isaiah's vision of God's glory in Isaiah 6:3 (with an allusion to Daniel 7:10). Its use in Christian prayer is very ancient and might even have entered directly into Christianity from the practice of the synagogue. Its use by Christians is suggested in Pope St. Clement's (A.D. 88-97) letter to the Corinthians, although its introduction to the Mass is probably about two centuries later.

At the same time, the Christian version of the Sanctus shows some variations from the Latin biblical text and from that used in the synagogue. The Latin Bible translates Sabaoth with exercituum whereas the liturgical version leaves the word untranslated. God is the Lord of hosts, which refers to both the angelic choirs and the whole multitude of created beings. The liturgical text also adds the word "heaven" to earth. This is an important addition because it means that it is not just the temple of Jerusalem nor even only the cherubim and seraphim but the whole of creation that is united in singing God's glory. The liturgical text also transforms the cry into a personal address "Your glory," thus underscoring its character as a prayer.

Until around the 12th century the Sanctus was sung primarily by the people along with the priest. Later the development of more complex melodies and eventually polyphony converted it into the province of the choir. The Sanctus also became detached from its second part, or the Benedictus, insofar as the first part until Hosanna in excelsis was sung before the consecration. Silence was observed during the consecration after which the choir took up the Benedictus for most of the rest of the canon.

After singing the preface, the priest would recite the Sanctus in a low voice and with head bowed. Then he would stand erect as he begins the Benedictus, while making the sign of the cross. He then initiates the canon.

The rubrics for John XXIII's missal, now the extraordinary form, already permitted and even favored the people's chanting of the Sanctus-Benedictus as a single melody before the consecration. The most common practice was for the priest to quietly recite the text and begin the canon while the people sang. In this case, silence is observed after the consecration until the Our Father.

Thus, although the canon is recited in a low voice in the extraordinary form, it is frequently enveloped in a musical setting in which either the faithful or the choir do little more than continue the dominant note of the solemn prayer of the canon: prayer and thanksgiving.

In the ordinary form of the Roman rite the Holy Holy Holy, whether in Latin or the vernacular, is always sung or recited by priest and people together before continuing with the rest of the Eucharistic Prayer.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Know That He Is Near, at the Gates: Biblical Reflection for 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time B

By Father Thomas Rosica, CSB

TORONTO, NOV. 11, 2009 (Zenit.org).- Today's Gospel story is taken from the most difficult chapter of Mark's Gospel (13:24-32) and is often interpreted as announcing the end of the world.

Mark 13 is often called the "little apocalypse." Like Daniel 7-12 and the Book of Revelation, it focuses on a world of persecution. When we take the chapter as a whole, we will be able to see that we are dealing with the theme of meaning rather than chronology.

Jesus' prediction of the destruction of the temple (Mark 13:2) provoked questions that the four disciples put to him in private regarding the time and the sign when all these things are about to come to an end (Mark 13:3-4). The response to their questions was Jesus' eschatological discourse prior to his imminent death. It contained instruction and consolation exhorting the disciples and the Church to faith and obedience through the trials that would confront them (Mark 13:5-13).

The sign is the presence of the desolating abomination (Mark 13:14; see Daniel 9:27), i.e., of the Roman power profaning the temple. Flight from Jerusalem is urged rather than defense of the city through misguided messianic hope (Mark 13:14-23). Intervention will occur only after destruction (Mark 13:24-27), which will happen before the end of the first Christian generation (Mark 13:28-31).

No one but the Father knows the precise time, or that of the parousia (Mark 13:32); hence the necessity of constant vigilance (Mark 13:33-37). Luke sets the parousia at a later date, after "the time of the Gentiles" (Luke 21:24). See also the notes on Matthew 24:1-25,46.

Son of Man

Jesus' words in today's Gospel deal with two realities: Jesus himself will fulfill the Old Testament Scripture texts about the end and the disciples are not to worry about the precise time of Jesus' second coming. When we read v. 26, we know that Jesus is the heavenly being who will come in power and glory.

Like Daniel's Son of Man, Mark's Jesus will return and gather his elect "from the four winds, from the end of the earth to the end of the sky" (Mark 13:27). When Jesus spoke, he didn't paint a glistening future for his disciples. He addressed the very era in which Mark's first readers lived and, indeed, in which we ourselves live. Jesus foretold wars, earthquakes and famines, and identifies these as "the beginning of the birth pangs:" the prophesied events signal the painful advent of the new age, which comes about even as the powers of the old age struggle to prevent it.

Jesus described to the people of his day all the things that would arouse fear in people today: wars, persecution, catastrophes, scandals, and people in misery. Jesus used these predictions of distress as a basis for hope. We are invited to fix our gaze on him! I take great consolation is the words of Jesus in today's Gospel (vv.29-31): "When you see these things happening, know that he is near, at the gates. Amen, I say to you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away."

Eschatological testing

Eschatological testing will take a variety of forms. First, there will be betrayals. Just as Jesus was "betrayed" or "handed over" to the hands of sinners for testing, so Mark's readers will be "betrayed" or "given over" to councils, beaten in synagogues, and called to give testimony before governors and kings. They will be "betrayed" or "given over" to death not only by their enemies, but even by their fathers and children, their own kin!

Second, false Christs and false prophets will appear, to "lead many astray." These deceivers will promise deliverance and perform signs and wonders so as to trick people into abandoning their faith in Jesus.

Third, there will be trials or temptations even for those who enjoy relative peace and stability. Jesus speaks about this last sort of trial in his concluding parable in chapter 13, about a man who goes on a journey, having put his servants in charge and commanded his doorkeeper to "watch" or to "keep awake." The parable suggests that Mark's readers are in danger of failing to "watch," of falling asleep. They are threatened by "the cares of the world, and the lure of wealth, and the desire for other things," which Jesus elsewhere warns may choke out the seed before it matures.

Mark's Gospel teaches us that all who follow Jesus will be put to the test. They will be tested by great affliction or by powerful seducers who do signs and wonders to lead them astray. They will be tested by the ordinary routines of daily existence and by fleshly desires. Whatever the form of the tests we face, Mark tells us that we must remain vigilant and pray, for if we have divided minds and hearts, we will fail the tests and so be unprepared to greet the master and be vindicated before him when he comes.

We shall be put to the test, but we need not fear, for Jesus has changed forever the context in which testing occurs. Because of his endurance of his own testing, Jesus offered himself as the perfect sacrifice to God, thereby rendering the cult in the Jerusalem temple obsolete. From now on, the appropriate "offerings" of the righteous will be prayers made in the gathered community of believers, rather than sacrifices made in the temple. God accepted Jesus' self-offering as sufficient to atone for human sin; those who follow Jesus have therefore been "ransomed" from wrathful punishment by the just God. They can be confident that they are destined for salvation.

The community of those who pray

Mark indicates that in the wake of the temple's destruction, the community of those who pray will be the "house of prayer for all nations," the new temple to be raised up by Jesus. Single-minded prayer is the hallmark of this new community, the temple built of living stones. But how might Mark and his readers have understood this notion of "single-minded prayer"? How did one go about praying in such a manner, and what were the consequences of such prayer for daily life? Jesus promised that faithful prayer will be answered, but his promise is qualified: Those who pray must not doubt in their hearts.

In the darkness and anguish of Gethsemane, Jesus earnestly requests that God save him from the agony that lies ahead, and he is fully convinced that God can do so. But at the same time, Jesus submits himself to the will of God his Father. Jesus' endurance, his single-mindedness, his deliberate laying aside of his own vision for himself in favor of God's vision for him is what triumphs in the garden at the foot of the Mount of Olives. For Mark, this prayer in Gethsemane is a model of how "disciples on trial" ought to pray.

Put to the test

What are the great cataclysmic events that shake us in our world today? How are we being put to the test daily? Are experiences of rejection, or suffering, death or loss, deprivation and emptiness leading us to give up the Word of life that we once received with joy? Are our concerns about money, success at work or in school, health, release from addiction, job security, status and recognition, family or relationships choking out the word of God which has been planted in our hearts? Are we gripped by passions such as anger, grief or lust, which block us from following Jesus? Is there any joy left in our life?

The Good News of Mark's Gospel is that we do not have to replicate Jesus' faithfulness in time of trial by the sheer force of our own will. We do not have to face satanic tests devoid of divine power. Jesus of Nazareth has changed our situation forever. Mark phrases the Good News in terms of the empowering of believers that takes place in prayer. The Christian community is empowered to engage in single-minded prayer that cannot be derailed by fear, grief, persecution, or deceptive powers at work in the world. Jesus has atoned for human sin and undermined the very powers that seek to separate humans from God. Therefore all things are possible when we come to God in prayer.

Bigger picture

Let us never lose sight of the bigger picture of salvation history as we face the setbacks, losses and tragedies of daily life. As Christians, we are invited each day to respond to the dialectics of hope and gloom, which often have gripped our age. Collective anxiety can easily become mass hysteria in the mist of any crisis.

That is why it is so important to be firmly established in the Word of God, to draw life from that word and live in that Word. It is then that we realize the prophet Daniel's words (12:1-3)in our daily life: "But the wise shall shine brightly like the splendor of the firmament, and those who lead the many to justice shall be like the stars forever."

[The readings for the 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time are Deuteronomy 12:1-3; Hebrews 10:11-14, 18; and Mark 13:24-32]

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Wednesday Liturgy: Questionable Baptism

ROME, NOV. 10, 2009 (Zenit.org).- Answered by Legionary of Christ Father Edward McNamara, professor of liturgy at the Regina Apostolorum university.

Q: I recently witnessed a baptism, and I am not certain if it was valid. During the baptism, the deacon grabbed the baby's father's hand and, while the deacon recited the baptismal formula ("Name, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit"), he and the father both poured the water over the baby's head three times. I am the godmother of this child. I became concerned about the baptism before it took place, because when I and the parents participated in the preparation class, the deacon told us that in order to get other people involved in the baptism, he would have their baby's grandfather pour the water while he (the deacon) recited the baptismal formula. I was afraid that this change to the form of the sacrament might invalidate the baptism, so a couple of weeks before the baptism I asked the mother of the child to talk to the deacon and request that he himself pour the water and recite the words. The mother talked to the deacon a few days before the baptism, and the deacon insisted that it is OK for someone else to pour the water while he said the baptismal formula. The mother told me about this conversation on the day of the baptism. I, in turn, insisted that the deacon be the one to pour the water and recite the formula. In the end, as a kind of compromise, the deacon grabbed the child's father's hand and they poured the water together, while the deacon said the baptismal formula. I am wondering if the baptism of this child was valid since the form was changed. As the godmother, I feel like it is my obligation to ensure that this child was validly baptized. Also, would a baptism be valid if, in ordinary circumstances, a deacon/priest recited the formula while someone else pours the water, or vice versa? Along the same lines, can a person who has no arms or is unable to speak baptize a child? It seems to me that, in order for a baptism to be valid, the person administering the baptism must both pour the water three times and recite the valid baptismal formula. -- E.R., San Clemente, California

A: This is a very grave situation and I recommend that our reader inform the deacon's pastor and the local bishop as soon as possible. In this particular case, the fact that the deacon did pour the water upon the child's head while saying the words makes it probable that the baby was effectively baptized; but this is not absolutely certain and a conditional baptism might be warranted.

Since, however, it would appear that the aforementioned deacon frequently had someone else pour the water while he recited the words of baptism, then there are certainly a number of children who have been baptized invalidly, and it is necessary to do everything possible to trace them and administer proper baptism.

For the rite of baptism to be valid it is necessary that the person who performs the ablution be the same as the one saying the Trinitarian formula. It makes no sense whatsoever to say, "I baptize you" if in fact someone else is doing the baptism. ("Baptism" means to bathe or dip.)

Sadly, this is not the first time that the above erroneous practice has occurred. In another country the Holy See ordered that several years of baptisms be repeated, or, rather, carried out for the first time.

The Church requires certainty with regard to the validity of the sacraments, and it is never permitted to proceed on the basis of probable validity of either matter or form of the sacrament.

Thus, on Feb. 8, 2008, the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith addressed the related question of those ministers of baptism who changed the precise terms of the Trinitarian form of the sacrament. With the approval of the Holy Father it answered the following questions:

"First question: Whether the Baptism conferred with the formulas 'I baptize you in the name of the Creator, and of the Redeemer, and of the Sanctifier' and 'I baptize you in the name of the Creator, and of the Liberator, and of the Sustainer' is valid?

"Second question: Whether the persons baptized with those formulas have to be baptized in forma absoluta?

"RESPONSES
"To the first question: Negative.
"To the second question: Affirmative."

The expression forma absoluta means that the baptism is done without using any conditional phrases because there is no doubt that the original baptismal ceremony was invalid.

Wednesday Liturgy: Follow-up: Guarding Against Swine Flu

ROME, NOV. 10, 2009 (Zenit.org).- Answered by Legionary of Christ Father Edward McNamara, professor of liturgy at the Regina Apostolorum university.

Coinciding with our Oct. 27 piece on swine flu and the Mass, the Archdiocese of Boston published a series of directives, excerpts of which we report below. They may serve as models for other diocese facing similar situations:

"The Archdiocese of Boston Office of Worship, in consultation with local health authorities and the Archdiocesan Office of Risk Management, continues to encourage the clergy and faithful to observe necessary standard precautions to protect the health of others during this flu season, and especially with the risks related to H1N1 influenza. The best way to prevent the spread of contagious disease is to practice good hygiene.

"Rev. Jonathan Gaspar, Co-Director of the Office of Worship and Spiritual Life, said, 'Given the extraordinary precautions being taken across the nation to prevent the spread of the H1N1 influenza, the Archdiocese has instituted a series of steps to be followed for the time being during the celebration of the Mass. We thank our priests, deacons, religious and parishioners for their understanding and support of these directives, which aim to protect the health of our people.' [...]

"In addition to practicing good hygiene, the Cardinal directs the following for the celebration of the Sacred Liturgy and for flu prevention:

"-- The Holy Water fonts are to be drained, cleaned with a disinfecting soap, and re-filled with holy water on a regular basis. Please note that old holy water should be disposed of in the sacrarium.

"-- The distribution of the Precious Blood for the faithful is suspended, with the exception of those who must receive from the cup due to medical reasons. The faith of the Church teaches that Christ, whole and entire, is received even under only one species.

"-- The exchange of the Sign of Peace is to be offered without any physical contact. If the priest celebrant chooses to extend the invitation for the sign of peace, the faithful, instead of a handshake, may bow to the persons nearby.

"-- While the faithful retain the option of receiving Holy Communion on the tongue or in the hand, all ministers of Holy Communion are advised to distribute the consecrated hosts with care, being cautious not to touch the tongue or the hand of the communicant.

"-- Parishioners should be reminded that if they are ill or suspect they are ill with a contagious illness, they are not bound by the Sunday Mass obligation. They should remain at home and return to church when they are well.

"These directives are effective Saturday, October 31, 2009 and remain in effect until the cold and flu season has come to an end."

It is noteworthy that the archdiocese did not ban the reception of Communion on the tongue. Since these directives were made in consultation with local health authorities, it would appear that this usage is no more likely to spread infection than hand contact.

Some other readers asked if it was correct for the priest and extraordinary ministers of Holy Communion to disinfect their hands immediately before distributing Communion.

While such a practice is well meant, it is probably unnecessary and might be counterproductive by making some susceptible people queasy about approaching the altar. If such a precaution is deemed worthwhile, it is probably sufficient to do so in the sacristy just before Mass, especially if the above-mentioned measures outlined for the Boston Archdiocese are also carried out.

Catholic Metanarrative

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Article: The Art of Living: The First Step of Prudence

Prudence is the virtue that most immediately helps us live our lives on target.

Article: The Surprising Fact of Morality

Evolutionists have some ingenious explanations for morality. But do they work?

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Wednesday Liturgy: Mentioning Bishops in the Eucharistic Prayers

Wednesday Liturgy: Follow-up: Questionable Baptism

Wednesday Liturgy: Follow-up: Guarding Against Swine Flu

Sunday, November 22, 2009

The King Who Did Not Bow Down: Biblical Reflection for Solemnity of Christ the King

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Article: On Answering Questions

We never know what curiosities former students will come up with.

Article: The Impartial Spectator

A moral argument for life after death.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Wednesday Liturgy: The Sanctus

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Know That He Is Near, at the Gates: Biblical Reflection for 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time B

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Wednesday Liturgy: Questionable Baptism

Wednesday Liturgy: Follow-up: Guarding Against Swine Flu

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