The Catholic Thing podcast

7:16

By Robert Lazu Kmita. But first a note from Robert Royal. Professor Kmita sharpens a point today that we've been trying to make with every column this week: that a perspective outside of the everyday - whether it be in literature, architecture, history, theology - though many think of it as irrelevant, actually brings greater relevance, fuller human and divine meaning to our lives. That's what we try to do every day of the year here at The Catholic Thing. If you're reading this, you probably know that. And it's what draws you here daily. So if you haven't already made your contribution to this work, what are you waiting for? Now for today's column... In an article dedicated to the reading of literary fiction, the remarkable Jesuit Father James V. Schall, one of the founders of The Catholic Thing, recalled the opinion of Rudolf Allers (1883-1963), who stated that it is always worthwhile to read literature. This assertion, Father Schall tells us, included even bad literature. The reason is that "we will almost always find there scenes of human reality that we would not notice otherwise." From a very young age, I have been - and remain - an avid reader of fiction. Even my theoretical pursuits have always been subordinated to literature. This is because my mentor, a French professor named Marian Prada, taught me that writers and poets typically have a deeper vision of life, of the human being, and of the world, than most of us have. That may seem like a simplistic statement, one you've undoubtedly heard (or read) in one form or another. But when it is said at the right moment, by the right person, it takes on a value that can change your life. Allers's statement points in the same direction. In his brief assertion, Father Schall was primarily referring to the depths of our life experiences, whose contents are often best highlighted by poets and writers. In addition to these distilled essences of humanity, works of fiction manage to offer vivid descriptions that can explain key concepts of Christian (i.e., Catholic) theology better than any rational-speculative discourse. "The sacred," "the profane," "sacrifice," or "symbol" are all such concepts. In a way that recalls the intuitive knowledge that mystics of all times strive to rekindle, the metaphors provided by a novel can reveal the cognitive value of such terms without leading you astray in the labyrinth of discursive knowledge. For example, rereading The Mysterious Island (1875), a novel by Jules Verne (1828-1905), unexpectedly gave me a revealing image of the notion of "symbol" (synonymous with the Augustinian concept of "sign"). In this way, as I'll explain below, I was able to give our two younger sons (aged 12 and 16) both a catechism lesson and a lesson in literary aesthetics. It is probably not necessary to explain very much why sacred symbols are of crucial importance in Christian (i.e., Catholic) theology. As evidence, it's enough to quote the definition of the Holy Liturgy proposed by the famous Benedictine liturgist Dom Prosper Guéranger (1805-1875): The Liturgy, considered in general, is the ensemble of symbols, chants, and acts by means of which the Church expresses and manifests its religion towards God. So, before anything else, the Liturgy is "an ensemble of symbols." I hasten to add and emphasize that everything is symbolic in the context of Catholic Tradition: the architecture of the churches, the liturgical objects, the holy altar, the liturgical vestments, the liturgical gestures - in short, everything. It is no coincidence that one of Pope Benedict XVI's favorite liturgists, Romano Guardini (1885-1968), wrote a beautiful short monograph entitled Sacred Signs. Simply put, the symbol creates a link between a consecrated object, which plays the role of the symbolizer, and the entity or being from the unseen world, which is symbolized. For example, the holy altar is in a mysterious symbolic relationship with the transcendent person of Our Lord Jesus Christ,...…

The Catholic Thing

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The Nicene 'Symbol' (Creed) 7:26

2 days ago7:26

7:26

By Michael Pakaluk. But first a note from Robert Royal: Our mid-year fundraiser moves along, and I'm grateful. But I'm also worried that it's moving too slowly. If you can't make a contribution right now, we understand. But there are many ways to configure donations: monthly, quarterly, and annually. I'm particularly grateful when someone gives $365 (dollar a day), $365.25 for those who want to be absolutely astronomically correct. Whatever works for you, we need your help. Now. So that we can get back to our main job of planning how to bring you the best commentaries, podcasts, courses, seminars that we can for the rest of the year. (Did I mention the Papal Posse?). I could go on, but enough said. Please. Support the work of The Catholic Thing. Now for today's column... More than one important thing took place on June 19th. On that day in 325 in the city of Nicaea (present day Iznik, Turkey), the first world-wide (or "ecumenical") council of the Catholic Church adopted a "symbol" that authoritatively expressed the ancient Christian faith. This was the first symbol formulated by the Church, after the Symbol of the Apostles. The Catechism excellently explains this perhaps unfamiliar terminology: The Greek word symbolon meant half of a broken object, for example, a seal presented as a token of recognition. The broken parts were placed together to verify the bearer's identity. The symbol of faith, then, is a sign of recognition and communion between believers. Symbolon also means a gathering, collection or summary. A symbol of faith is a summary of the principal truths of the faith and therefore serves as the first and fundamental point of reference for catechesis (n. 188). Today, then, is the 1700th anniversary of the Nicene Creed. For the record, here is the original: We believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of all things visible and invisible. And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, begotten of the Father, the only-begotten, that is, from the substance of the Father (ek tês ousias tou Patros), God of God, Light of Light, true God of true God, begotten, not made, one in substance (homoousion) with the Father; through whom all things came to be, both in heaven and on earth, who, for us men, and for our salvation, came down, and assumed flesh, and was made man; he suffered and arose on the third day, ascending into heaven, and is coming to judge the living and the dead. And in the Holy Ghost. But those who say: "There was a time when he was not;" and "He was not before he was made;" and "He was made out of nothing," or "He is of another substance" or "essence," or "The Son of God is created," or "changeable," or "alterable" - they are condemned by the holy Catholic and Apostolic Church. The Council of Chalcedon in 451 preserved a fuller version of this creed as composed by the Fathers at the Council of Constantinople in 381, which affirmed additionally the divinity of the Holy Spirit. This fuller version is what we say in Church on Sunday and is sometimes called the "Nicene-Constantinopolitan" Creed. The anathemas at the end of the original version, and also a clause that apparently was removed at Constantinople ("begotten. . . from the substance of the Father"), make it perfectly clear that this creed was intended to reject the teaching that Arius, in the event, was forced, finally, to evince clearly, namely, that Christ was simply the highest created being, but not God. I've heard it said that Catholics are bad at celebrating anniversaries and that, therefore, we ought to make a big fuss at commemorating the 1700th anniversary of Nicaea. But what does this mean? Does it mean that in this century, in 2025, if we were "good at celebrating anniversaries," in 2025 we would celebrate Nicaea, in 2031 Ephesus, in 2051 Constantinople, in 2063 Trent, in 2065 the Second Vatican Council, and in 2070 the First Vatican Council - for starters? This is silly. Also, it seems frankly un-Catholic. In 1925, Pope Pius XI was occ...…

The Catholic Thing

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A Priest for Our Times 7:00

3 days ago7:00

7:00

By Francis X. Maier. But first a note from Robert Royal: Fran Maier reminds us today that in the past, the Church has overcome many of the same challenges that we face at present. But that doesn't happen all on its own. It takes people with names like Hildebrand, Francis, Dominic, Catherine, Ignatius, Teresa, Karol, and many more, including you. In other words, people who stayed faithful and made a difference - as in our own ways, all of us may today. I often hear from readers that our daily columns help keep them sane and focused amid the many challenges and confusions of our age. That's no small thing,which means neither are your contributions to our efforts. The time is short. The need is great. And now is the time to make a big difference. Support The Catholic Thing. Now for today's column... I'm a sucker for history because it's a great teacher. And I talk a lot about the Reformation because, while our world today and the world of the Reformation era are very different, they also share some striking similarities: political and social turmoil; big changes in technology that reshape how we learn, think, communicate, work, and believe; and a pattern of ambiguity and battles within the Church. Names from the Reformation era like Thomas More, John Fisher, and Erasmus are widely known. John Colet, priest and scholar, is barely remembered. But I want to focus on Colet here because his love for the Church and her mission speaks directly to our age. Colet was born in England in 1467. The middle of the 15th century witnessed the chaos of three simultaneous and competing popes. The century was marked throughout by bitter political conflict. And it ended with a corrupt Renaissance papacy. Colet was ordained a priest in the late 1490s. He began his ministry during the papacy of Alexander VI (Rodrigo Borgia), one of the worst popes in the 2000-year line. None of this pushed Colet away from the Church. But it did anger him the way the moneychangers angered Christ. Google "John Colet, 1512 sermon" and you'll be a taken to a homily that he gave to English Church leaders just a few years before Luther posted his 95 theses. Five centuries later, it's still a stunning critique of corruption, ambition, greed, and indifference among Church leaders, and a barn-burner on the urgent need for Church reform. Nobody listened. Colet died in 1519, just as Martin Luther was gaining steam in Germany. So he's sometimes described as a kind of proto-Protestant. But the facts simply don't support that. He was a friend of More and Fisher, and he had a huge influence on Erasmus. He treasured his priesthood, and very strongly believed that the clergy, despite their human flaws, were absolutely necessary for the saving role of the Church. He had no interest in reimagining doctrines or sacraments. He was a man of humility, fidelity, and Catholic continuity. So that's some background. But here's the real reason I mention Colet. He had an abiding love for the clarity and zeal of St. Paul. In 1497, barely 30 years old, he gave a series of lectures at Oxford on Paul's Epistle to the Romans. His lectures still have remarkable power. They speak directly to us, here and now. And here's why: The Rome that Paul describes in Romans, especially in the first two chapters, is strangely familiar, and rife with recent echoes - the malice, confused sexuality, vanity, and strife. Paul's purpose in writing to the young Church in Rome was very simple: How should Christians live in such a place, the pagan capital of a pagan empire? Rome at the time was a dominant power in the world, just as America is today. Most first-century Romans viewed Christianity as an ugly superstition. Many saw it as a threat to public order and welfare. And if we think that our modern political leaders are disappointing, the Christians of Rome had Nero. Colet made a sweeping tour of the letter's meaning for the Oxford audience. But two points are especially useful for our reflection today. First, for ...…

The Catholic Thing

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The World's Greatest Church 7:47

4 days ago7:47

7:47

By Brad Miner. But first a note from Robert Royal: Most people, I think, take it for granted that they know about St. Peter's. But Brad Miner gives us a great deal of helpful information and insight about that singular basilica in just a few words today. People may also take the daily appearance of TCT for granted, but I assure you it takes daily dedication on our end as well as your support to make it all happen - from the daily columns to News and Commentaries, to our podcasts, the Posse, TCT courses, and much more. We're getting to the point where it looks like we'll be here for the rest of 2025, but I can't emphasize enough how urgent it is that you do your part. Today. We're here every day for you, will you be there for us? Now for today's column... It was built upon the ancient Roman site known as Mons Vaticanus. Vatican Hill is on the west side of the Tiber, facing the seven hills of Rome, and - to put it clearly in context - it is the burial site of Peter, the man to whom our Lord said, "on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it." St. Peter's Basilica, as we know it today, is a relatively new building, constructed mainly during the Renaissance, which is to say more than 1400 years after the Apostle was martyred on that very spot, c. 68 A.D. The site was treasured by early Christians, but it wasn't until Emperor Constantine the First (272-337) ended the persecution of Christians and embraced the faith (in hoc signo vinces) that a church could be constructed over Peter's tomb. That was what we now refer to as Old St. Peter's. There are no extant 4th-century images of its appearance, but Shawn Tribe, writing in Liturgical Arts Journal, included this digital mockup "as it may have appeared closer to Constantine's time": The old church took about 40 years to complete. And it endured for more than a thousand years. Leon Battista Alberti (d. 1472), often considered the first "Renaissance Man," was among the earliest to call for a new structure to be built on the site because the 4th-century church was collapsing into ruins. Construction of the current Basilica, however, did not begin until April of 1506. It was completed in November of 1626. Those 120 years may seem like a very long time to build a basilica, but Notre-Dame de Paris took six decades longer, and Antoni Gaudí's Sagrada Familia in Barcelona was begun 143 years ago and is not yet complete. The plan for a new St. Peter's was kick-started by the return of the papacy to Rome from Avignon. And it was a propitious moment, given that there happened to be working in the city an assortment of geniuses such as we'll likely never see again: the aforementioned Alberti, Bernardo Peruzzi, Donato Bramante - and others - until, in 1547 and at the behest of Pope Paul III, the work fell to the great Michelangelo Buonarroti, who seemed never to relish his Vatican work. "I undertake this only for the love of God and in honor of the Apostle," he said. He had earlier tried to dissuade Pope Julius II from using him to paint the Sistine Chapel ceiling (1508-1512), but at the age of 71, Michelangelo became the Chief Architect of St Peter's. Historian James Lees-Milne has written that Michelangelo cleared out the clique of sluggish craftsmen who had been employed at St. Peter's and hired new "basilican workmen with a fresh enthusiasm and zest for the great and holy task ahead of them." Michelangelo built upon the architect Bramante's work, but like Gaudí, did not live to see the Basilica's consecration. No matter. As the American art historian Helen Gardner wrote, "Without destroying the centralizing features of Bramante's plan, Michelangelo, with a few strokes of the pen, converted its snowflake complexity into massive, cohesive unity." And massive it is. St. Peter's is the largest church in the world. The Basilica and Colonnade cover nearly 240,000 square feet - nearly six acres. This brings us to the dome of St. Peter's - in some ways...…

The Catholic Thing

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A Memorial for a Mentor 6:48

5 days ago6:48

6:48

By Robert Royal. But first a note: We're making steady progress in our fundraising, but we're behind last year. And you all know that nothing has gotten less expensive in the past twelve months. I won't belabor a point that you already understand. We can only come to you every morning, 365 days a year, if you are generous towards us during the two times a year that we ask for your support. Please, be generous and hopeful - hopeful that the work we do here will help both the Church and the world. There's the button. There's you. There's the future of The Catholic Thing. Now for today's column... I don't remember precisely how I came to know Virgil Nemoianu, who died on June 6. Even his widow, Anca, isn't exactly sure. It must have been at the kind of informal salon that Jude Dougherty, legendary dean of the School of Philosophy at the Catholic University of America for three decades, hosted at his home. D.C. locals and visiting eminences from Rome, Poland, the U.K., etc., would rub shoulders there. But somehow - Divine Providence often works through people and things that may never rise to great public prominence - we met. And Virgil became an intellectual inspiration, later my dissertation director, and - for forty years - my friend. Back then, I was a youngish vice-president for research at the Ethics & Public Policy Center in Washington. My then-boss and founder of EPPC, Ernest Lefever, was a distinguished Protestant foreign-policy expert. He instructed me one day that it was "unseemly" that I had researchers working under me with PhDs, while I had left mine unfinished to become a magazine editor at Princeton, before moving to the Center. Jude Dougherty wouldn't let me do philosophy, unless I quit my job to study full time (an impossibility for a father with children). But Virgil stepped in. He was chairman of the Comparative Literature department at CUA, which was more in my wheelhouse anyway. I'd been studying Dante and literature in a couple of languages earlier. But unbeknownst to many, even at the university, he was also Secretary General of the World Comparative Literature Association, which is to say the biggest of the big fish in the discipline. And he generously made it possible for me to finish doctoral work without too much stress on the family. He was also, for me in particular, a bit of a Godsend in that, as a native of Romania (communist when he was growing up), he had little patience with people in the academic or political worlds who were soft on the Soviets or who flirted - and more than flirted - with various forms of Marxism and socialism. He'd seen what all that led to up close, and wasn't about to indulge it in conditions of freedom where we had the gift of speaking the truth about poisonous intellectual and political illusions. At the same time, he was intellectually sophisticated and disturbingly well-red in what seemed, at times, everything. And he fought for the proper life of the mind. For instance, the "canon wars" were roiling university campuses - leftists at universities were arguing even back then that the great books included in the curricula of most programs in Western civilization were (sigh) sexist, racist, imperialistic, etc. ad nauseam. He decided that we should jointly edit a volume of essays making a different case. We rummaged around looking for a suggestive title and he found, in Shakespeare of course (Coriolanus I:10), exactly what we wanted: The Hospitable Canon. The unusual word "hospitable" here suggesting that, in fact, the great Western texts invite in everyone who wants to become a participant in "the best that has been thought and said." The canon was even open to new writers and thinkers - if they could survive the competition to become part of the great human cultural legacy. Notably, Virgil also developed what he called the "theory of the secondary," by which he meant that the proper role of literature was not to become part of the dominant political and social culture,...…

The Catholic Thing

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'Lex orandi, lex civitandi' 6:00

6 days ago6:00

6:00

by Stephen P. White. Let's do a little thought experiment. Do you think you could guess my political affiliation based on what music I listen to? Does my preference for, say, Jimmy Buffet, yacht rock, and country music from the late 1990s tip my political hand at all? These hypothetical musical preferences might tell you something about me (I have eclectic tastes, I'm probably part of Gen X, etc.), but would they tell you very much about how I vote? Probably not. One person is a tiny sample size and, as the saying goes, there's no accounting for taste. What if I asked you about a larger group? What if there were 1,000 people or 10,000 people who all liked Jimmy Buffet, yacht rock, and country music from the late 1990s? Now, do you think you could, with reasonable accuracy, guess the general political leanings of that group based simply on their shared taste in music? Has the larger sample size made that guess about political preferences easier, more difficult, or about the same? Now, what if I told you (again, hypothetically) that I attend Mass every Sunday and that my three all-time favorite hymns to sing are, in no particular order, "On Eagle's Wings," "City of God," and "Be Not Afraid"? I especially like it when these songs are accompanied by an acoustic guitar. Do you think you could venture a guess about my politics now? I bet you do. At the very least, most of you have a hunch. Prudence might convince you to withhold that judgment. You might make some objection about "inductive fallacies" or "correlation not implying causation." You know you shouldn't judge, but that doesn't mean you're not also pretty confident that you could judge. The answer is already there in the back of your head. Even if you're withholding it, you know what judgment you're withholding. Let's leave that (admittedly loaded) hypothetical for a moment and turn to the reality of the Church and the country in which we live. We hear a lot about political polarization these days, for obvious reasons. We also hear a lot about the ways in which political polarization has seeped into the Church. While political polarization may exacerbate our ecclesial divisions, our most significant ecclesial divisions - e.g., about liturgy or sexual morality or the proper interpretation of Vatican II - long predate the current moment of political polarization. Moreover, as I've written before, it's hard to see American political polarization as the prime driver of our ecclesial divisions when so much of the Church outside the United States, and thus well removed from our domestic polarization, is dealing with very similar divisions. Political polarization is at least as much a symptom of our ecclesial divisions as it is a cause. And I'm not the first to observe that many of our political divisions are underwritten by much deeper disagreements about the nature and ends of human life. Those anthropological questions are, to the Christian mind, inherently theological questions. So we shouldn't be surprised to discover that the way we pray (or even what we like to sing) somehow shows up in the way we view our political life and the responsibilities of citizenship. Lex orandi, lex credendi, lex vivendi. The way we pray shapes the way we believe, which in turn shapes the way we live. To which we might add, lex civitandi - the way we pray eventually shapes the way we exercise our citizenship. Now, of course, we can't really tell much about people's political beliefs based solely on what sort of liturgical music they prefer. No doubt, there are progressives out there who love to chant the Regina Coeli and conservatives who long to "Sing a New Church" into being. Nor am I suggesting that liturgical renewal ought to be seen as a means to some political end, even a worthy political end. Instrumentalizing the worship of God is a wicked and disordered thing to do. But it is the case that right worship cannot but be a boon to the life of any community that so worships. In a recent h...…

The Catholic Thing

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Rescuing God and Science from Scientism 7:33

7 days ago7:33

7:33

By Auguste Meyrat. But first a note from Robert Royal: I don't like fundraising campaigns. Maybe you do, and if so, God bless you. But if you'd like to help put an end to this one, the answer is easy. Be generous. Make your contribution. Support The Catholic Thing. Now for today's column... If you consider the evolution of Christian apologetics over the centuries, most of the changes pertain to style and format. In the early days, apologists would deliver their arguments at forums or write letters on papyrus scrolls. In the Middle Ages, they would have formal debates or write lengthy, abstruse treatises on vellum. In the modern era, apologists have made use of radio, popular literature, television, and now the Internet to explain why Christianity is the one true faith. As for the actual substance of Christian apologetics, not much has changed since the days of St. Justin Martyr. Many of today's arguments are the same as those articulated centuries ago. After all, if they haven't been disproven (and they haven't), there's little reason to develop new ones. By contrast, opponents of Christianity are continually forced to reframe and reconstruct their arguments. These days, atheists prefer to invoke science in the effort to prove God doesn't exist. This, in turn, forces Christian apologists to adapt by speaking extensively on the sciences while articulating the same perennial points. This approach is apparent in Science at the Doorstep of God: Science in Support of God, the Soul, and Life After Death (2023) by American scientist, philosopher, professor, and priest Robert Spitzer, S.J. Spitzer systematically dismantles and debunks the supposedly scientific arguments of today's skeptics. In addition to proving God's existence, he also demonstrates that the old arguments are more relevant than ever, and that they even may prove necessary in saving scientific inquiry itself from materialist nihilism. At the outset, Spitzer explains how modern physics and astronomy point to a beginning to the universe (with the "Big Bang") and how this important truth necessitates an immaterial God. This also addresses the usual atheist rebuttals that the universe is somehow one of an infinite set of universes (a multiverse) - for which no evidence exists. These theories also conflict with the current expansion of the universe and the law of entropy. Seen differently, they are ideas that effectively trade away the conclusions supported by millennia of scientific and mathematical scholarship for the kinds of implausible narratives typically found in a superhero movie. The same back-and-forth applies with the "fine-tuning" argument. Spitzer relates how the many variables that allow the universe to exist and sustain life (low energy, universal constants, the mass of fundamental particles) are so finely "tuned" that such a system arising randomly is virtually impossible. There is also "string theory," which proposes a potentially infinite series of alternative dimensional universes, and a "Level IV multiverse," which claims that an unchangeable series of physical laws precedes the creation of the cosmos. Yet, again, none of these alternative theories are based on any real science, but rather stem from a deep atheistic prejudice with a science-sounding vocabulary. Spitzer responds to an argument made popular by the famous atheist Richard Dawkins. A philosopher/scientist himself, Dawkins proposes the following syllogism: "1. Whatever is more complex is more improbable. 2. A cosmic designer (God) must be more complex than anything it designs. 3. Therefore, a cosmic designer must be more improbable than anything it designs." Spitzer explains that not only does Dawkins have this backwards (in truth, God, at least in Christian theology, is "simple" and thus more probable than any designed reality). But Dawkins also misapplies and misunderstands science itself. All the sciences are based on induction (forming conclusions from observed phenomena), not deducti...…

The Catholic Thing

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Hermits 7:30

8 days ago7:30

7:30

By Joseph R. Wood. But first a note: As Professor Wood explains today, the contemplative life, especially of hermits, is a fundamental service to the Church and the world, even though to many it doesn't seem so. Here at TCT, we cannot make such fundamental claims, but we do what we can, and we know it achieves results, not least among our readers. What we already see developing this year will call for some of the same - and even greater - efforts that we've made for the past decade and a half. We know economic times are hard out there, but they're hard for us too. And right now, we're not hitting our chalk marks for this mid-year fundraiser. So I have to ask, please, if you care about the future of Catholicity in this country and the world, we're in the fight. Will you be too? Now for today's column... This year's routine announcement of clergy assignments in my diocese included one that you don't see often. A priest will follow a hermit vocation. Eremitical life, and the contemplative vocation in general, were central in early Christianity and remain a search for union with God for the contemplatives themselves, and for the good of the universal Church. The early Desert and Church Fathers, often hermits, are a source of strength and grace, always being forgotten and always being found again. Today seems to be another "found again" moment. As Sister Benedicta Ward explains, the earliest years of the Church saw some Christians determined to await the return of Christ "with a totality of commitment. . .[as] ascetics. . .who undertook a poor and celibate life. . .in the expectation of the coming of the Lord." This asceticism was first undertaken in urban settings, but "gradually a need for more absolute retirement. . .caused people to seek. . .solitude away from social, political, and economic demands." In these years, as Hilary White has noted, "there were no written rules to follow, no orders to join and permission was not needed from any ecclesiastic in Rome or Constantinople. You simply decided to do it." People moved away from cities in search of solitude and silence, sometimes as hermits occasionally getting together for prayer or meals, sometimes in more tight-knit groups. St. Anthony the Great sought solitude. But according to St. Athanasius, Anthony encountered other hermits and, in particular, St. Paul the First Hermit. Anthony himself attracted followers and became known as the Father of Monasticism for the group that gathered around him. We think today of "hermits" as living in solitude and "monks" as living in a cenobitic community in accord with the Rule of St. Augustine or St. Benedict. The necessity for such rules and their emphasis on obedience to superiors became apparent in those first few centuries, as the rigors of ascetic life led some to holiness and others in all sorts of bad directions. St. Dorotheos of Gaza reports the foul ways his wayward brothers showed their displeasure with him. St. Benedict, after living as a hermit then being drafted as superior for some misguided monks, was nearly murdered when they found his efforts to reform their ways too strict. Two orders devoted to eremitical life became prominent over the centuries: the Benedictine Camaldolese founded around 1000 A.D. by St. Romuald and renewed half a millennium later by Blessed Paul Giustiniani, and the Carthusians founded by St. Bruno not long after St. Romuald. Both remain active. In recent centuries, the eremitical vocation has often followed decades of devotion in a monastery. The experienced monk, equipped with the strength and temperament gained through years of monastic practice, leaves his brothers to seek a closer union with God and to undertake spiritual combat with the devil. He'll usually stay close to his monastery, under obedience as part of complete submission to God, for both physical and spiritual support as he enters a deeper solitude. Herein lies one of the most misunderstood aspects of monastic and eremitical life....…

The Catholic Thing

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Why Do We Need a Creed? 6:16

9 days ago6:16

6:16

By Randall Smith. But first a note: Be sure to tune in tonight - Thursday, June 12th at 8 PM Eastern - to EWTN for a new episode of the Papal Posse on 'The World Over.' TCT Editor-in-Chief Robert Royal and contributor Fr. Gerald E. Murray will join host Raymond Arroyo to discuss the emerging papacy of Leo XIV, the removal of art by Marko Rupnik from the Vatican website, and other issues in the global Church. Check your local listings for the channel in your area. Shows are usually available shortly after first airing on the EWTN YouTube channel. Now for today's column... This year is the 1700th anniversary of the 325 A.D. Council of Nicaea, from which we get the Nicaean Creed. Some claim they don't want to be "constrained" by a creed. So why do we need a creed? Our word "creed" from the Latin credo, meaning "I believe." If you say, "I believe," you need to believe something or in someone. It would be odd to shout: "I believe, I really believe!" but then if someone asks, "What do you believe?" you reply: "I don't know, but I know I believe." You have to believe in something. It might also be important to understand how and why you believe what you believe. But the first thing to get clear on is what you believe. But to say, "I believe" in the sense understood by people who recite the Nicaean Creed is not merely to indicate, "Here's what I happen to think right now," as when someone in response to the question, "Where's the men's room?" says, "I'm not sure, but I believe it's over there." A creed is a statement of the fundamental principles that animate your life, as when someone in the face of great adversity proclaims, "I believe that goodness will triumph over evil" and then backs up those words with his actions. When people recite the Creed, they are saying, in effect: "This is who I am." Or, if it is a community of persons, they would be saying, "This is who we are. We pledge ourselves to God and to each other. We set ourselves to live our lives this way, in good times and bad. We believe that living this way is the way to human flourishing, and we accept everything that comes along with it." A creed, in this sense, is something like a marriage vow. Because it is meant to be an expression of who you are, you can't say, "Here is what I believe, but, you know, it could change tomorrow." If you did, then you wouldn't be talking about the beliefs that animate your life. You would have other, more fundamental convictions that animate the way you actually live and by which you judge everything else. If the beliefs in the creed fit with those deeper convictions, then fine. But if not, then the creed, or certain parts of it, get dumped. That's like vowing to be faithful in your marriage, but if things get difficult, you opt out. That makes your marriage less important than whatever you dump it for. Oddly, there are theologians who claim that the creeds ratified in the past - at Nicaea, Constantinople, and Chalcedon - have no relevance for us today. The complexity of God cannot be captured in words, they say, so each generation has its own concepts, and each generation must compose its own creed. But that's like saying, "Since no words can capture the essence of marriage, whatever I vowed to my spouse the day we got married is no longer relevant now. My new vow allows me to commit adultery." That's not a vow, nor would it be the basis of a creed. Can you imagine someone insisting, "I believe it's always wrong to lie," and then the next day, not only lying to you, but insisting he holds the same belief. I think you'd probably tell him, "I don't think you do believe that." Pope Saint John Paul II, in his encyclical Fides et Ratio, warned against those who "on the basis of preconceived assumptions," deny the universal validity of the faith. "Faith," he writes: clearly presupposes that human language is capable of expressing divine and transcendent reality in a universal way - analogically, it is true, but no less meaningfully for t...…

The Catholic Thing

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Is It Time to "Smash Your TV?" 6:48

10 days ago6:48

6:48

by Bishop James D. Conley But first a note: Be sure to tune in tomorrow night - Thursday, June 12th at 8 PM Eastern - to EWTN for a new episode of the Papal Posse on 'The World Over.' TCT Editor-in-Chief Robert Royal and contributor Fr. Gerald E. Murray will join host Raymond Arroyo to discuss the emerging papacy of Leo XIV, the removal of art by Marko Rupnik from the Vatican website, and other issues in the global Church. Check your local listings for the channel in your area. Shows are usually available shortly after first airing on the EWTN YouTube channel. Now for today's column. Professor John Senior, my godfather and one of the professors of the famed Integrated Humanities Program at the University of Kansas, was a master of hyperbole. He once hinted to us, his students, that we should just go home and smash our television sets. Perhaps he didn't mean this literally, but he suggested that this was something we should consider. I know of at least one fellow student who took him at his word and dropped his 19-inch Motorola black and white television set out of the window of his fourth-floor dorm room onto the concrete alley below. Today, the lightweight plastic screen would barely make a sound when it hit the pavement. But in the 1970s, the dozens of sealed tubes (this is why some still call the TV "the tube") exploded with a thunderous noise. It was so satisfying. So cathartic. TV was a relatively new technology at the time; it had taken a generation or so to begin to realize what it was doing to us. Instead of being active, seeking, critical engagers with the real world, filled with wonder and joy, we were becoming lazy, slack-jawed, and flat-souled accepters of an often false or incomplete mediated version of reality. The sound of a TV exploding on the pavement helped mark a new phase of life for us. One in which we made a commitment - a commitment deeply related to our faith (I converted to Catholicism through influence of the IHP) - to refuse to allow this technology to shape us in these negative and distorting ways. Today, we are faced with a similar problem, but on a wildly greater scale. Artificial Intelligence and related technologies will now be able to use our reliance on screen-delivered mediating technologies and throw us into something close to total confusion about what is real and what isn't. Deep-fake videos are now often indistinguishable from real ones. Soon, you won't know whether you are in a Zoom meeting with a real person or with an AI-created chatbot who looks just like a real person. Voices can now be faked to the point where even family members cannot tell the difference. "Proof of reality" is going to become a thing. Two generations after John Senior, I wonder: do we need to do the equivalent of "smashing our TVs" once again? I also wonder if, this time, the ideas and call of Pope Leo XIV might be our inspiration for doing so. The Holy Father has certainly made it clear that one of the reasons he chose his name was to signal that he would be like Leo XIII, a pope who helped the Church and world respond to the massively disruptive Industrial Revolution of the 19th Century. Today, our Holy Father understands we are in the midst of another technological revolution, one that promises some good things but is likely to raise our passivity in the face of distorted reality to levels never seen before. What would it look like to "smash our TVs" in 2025? Fewer people are even watching what we might think of as traditional television. But "cutting the TV cord" doesn't automatically mean less screen time. Our many other screens have, if anything, led to even more time looking at screens. This is especially true for young people, but I myself often feel this way about my phone and computer screens. Last week, Clare Morell released her new book, The Tech Exit. It's geared toward parents wrestling with these matters, especially for their children, but it can be read with profit by virtually anyone. Morell a...…

The Catholic Thing

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Movement (Finally) on the Most Notorious Sex-Abuser? 7:12

11 days ago7:12

7:12

By John M. Grondelski. But first a note from Robert Royal: Today, a story about something that has ended well, even if the usual figures put up resistance. It's because this site and others like it report on the slow-walking of scandalous cases in the Vatican that things, occasionally, change. We're ready to continue that work. Are you ready to help? Now for today's column... Yesterday was the Memorial of Mary, Mother of the Church, a relatively new feast for a very old theological reality. Until last Saturday, the Vatican News website was still featuring the work of Marko Rupnik, the notorious abuser of nearly thirty religious women, who still somehow functions as a priest, seemingly protected by someone high up in Rome. Sometime between Saturday night and Sunday morning, his work disappeared, replaced by a mosaic similar to the "Mater Ecclesiae" mosaic looking down on St. Peter's Square, erected by Pope St. John Paul II in gratitude to Our Lady for saving his life from an assassin's bullet. It wasn't that hard to replace the irreplaceable Marko Rupnik. And perhaps this is a sign that Rome may finally deal with this scandal. But it did cause Pope Francis biographer and apologist Austen Ivereigh to defend Rupnik's art. Ivereigh opposes "iconoclasm" and explains that many shrines had only "covered up" Rupnik art rather than removed it. And in a strained comparison, he argued that just as sacraments work ex opere operato, so mutatis mutandis, Rupnik's works stand independently of him. Where to start? "Iconoclasm" was about visual art in general, not any particular artist. The Iconoclasts did not say, "Let's smash Greek icons, but Cretan ones are OK!" As to "cover-ups" at shrines, well, the biggest cover-up of Rupnik was in Francis's Vatican. Rupnik was excommunicated, then rehabilitated, although we still do not know officially by whom. He was immune from prosecution until the pope, after great delay, decided otherwise. Rupnik's erstwhile Jesuit confreres washed their hands of him, but nobody saw a problem with incardinating him into a diocese in Slovenia. And we still have no idea when Cardinal Fernández and the DDF might assemble a panel of judges to try Rupnik. Have shrines "covered up" Rupnik art? Yes, because unlike paintings on walls in papal apartments, removing mosaics is not a five-minute or a single day's job. And stripping a mosaic off a shrine wall will leave - until replaced - a blank space of rough stone. But the most repulsive argument in all this mess is Ivereigh's invocation of ex opere operato. Ex opere operato is a concept of sacramental theology that affirms that sacraments have their effect by virtue of doing them, not by who does them. The concept arose - apropos of our Augustinian pope - from a controversy in Augustine's day. During one of the periodic Roman persecutions of Christians, priests in North Africa apostatized: faced with torture and death, they denied the faith. When the persecution was over, they sought to resume acting as priests. Some Christians contended that the sacraments they ministered would all be invalid because of their prior apostasy. St. Augustine rejected this argument. Christ is the real minister of every sacrament. The priest acts alter Christus, in Christ's name. But the sacrament and its effect remain Christ's. If you made sacramental efficacy dependent on moral rectitude, given that we are all sinners, what human being could be a valid minister of any sacrament? Sacraments work ex opere operato, "by the doing of the work," not ex opere operantis, "by the doer's doing." To stretch a principle applied to sacred realities - sacraments instituted by Christ - to any merely human product borders on sacrilege. The sacraments are ultimately God's work, not man's. It is His fidelity that stands behind them "for us and for our salvation." To compare what is necessary for our salvation to a work of art is an inexcusable conflation of radically different realities. Dostoyevsky said t...…

The Catholic Thing

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Loving God with Your Whole Mind 6:43

12 days ago6:43

6:43

By Robert Royal But first a note: Controversy seems to be a constant feature of the contemporary Church. There are already divisions arising over the first steps of Pope Leo. Those are important matters to follow. But there are also deeper issues facing any Catholic today. And The Catholic Thing is committed to bringing you the best we can offer on both fronts. We can't do it without you. We're well into our mid-year fundraiser, so let's make this a quick success. Just click the button. You know the rest. Not for today's column. Catholic means universal, everything. A big claim, a crazy claim to the world. And the believer who aspires to be fully Catholic - especially in a fragmented age like ours - has a demanding vocation. Probably the most common phrase one hears about the Faith these days is the need for "a personal relationship with Jesus Christ." And this is true. And essential. There's a lot packed into that short phrase. Jesus Himself told us: "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments." (Matthew 22: 36-40) Simple and familiar words, but what do they signify for us now? Because what does "heart" mean here - merely emotions? Or soul - some "spiritual" thing? And what of mind? Also, the whole phrase is from the Jewish tradition going all the way back to Deuteronomy. (Chapter 6 verse 5) The Scripture scholars may help here. But maybe the most difficult term for us today is "mind." The phrase about the personal relationship with Jesus got a great deal of emphasis in recent decades as an antidote to a merely "propositional Christianity," almost a kind of ideology, that some thinkers believed had replaced the love of God with the kind of dry rational analysis that Thomists allegedly practiced before Vatican II. Maybe yes, maybe no. It depends on which philosophers and theologians you're talking about because the greatest modern figures, like Thomas himself, wrote treatises passionately and precisely out of the mind's love of God. Witnesses to the fact that, again, God Himself has told us we must love Him with our minds as well as our hearts and souls. So how do we do that today? In many ways, to be sure. Even as we develop that personal relationship, there are other things that we need to be doing and not only if we're philosophers or theologians. Everything we're engaged in - science, technology, medicine, law, business, education, domestic duties, sports - everything has to be marked by loving God with our whole minds, however difficult or improbable it might seem. Because the Faith is there both for the simple daily practices of the believer, but also must be present in the whole range of human things if it's to be true to itself in following the First Great Commandment. We have a new and attractive Augustinian pope, and we will all doubtless be learning more about Augustine and Augustinianism in the coming months and years. Any authentically Catholic intellectual formation is all to the good these days. And Augustine is such an immense figure - he shifted the whole direction of Western Christian thought and thereby the whole history of our civilization - that close study of him and his work will enrich us all. The one fault we must guard against, however, is to think that Augustine is all about the heart or the soul - and not also the mind. He got himself entangled with a formidable and disastrous philosophical current in his day, the Manichaeans (who believed there were two physical gods, one good and one evil, with all the consequences that follow for human beings and the world). It was only when he met with the group of Platonists around St. Ambrose in Milan that he finally shook free and came to understand what non-material, spiritual being means. All that is part of the background that enabled him to ...…

The Catholic Thing

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A Time to Heal 6:21

13 days ago6:21

6:21

By Fr. Brian A. Graebe. How much can we glean about the young pontificate of Pope Leo XIV? Early signs may not be definitive, but they can be suggestive. And no doubt many and various surprises lie ahead. One theme that has emerged, however, may well become a leitmotif. In his first remarks from the balcony of St. Peter's Basilica on the day of his election, Pope Leo spoke of walking together "as a united Church." This Pentecost Sunday, as we remember the tongues of fire that descended upon the Apostles, is also a good time to recall how often we have said we need to listen to the Holy Spirit to rediscover that unity. The voice of the Spirit speaks to us through many sources in the Church, but especially through the pope. The emphasis on unity found fuller expression in Pope Leo's inaugural Mass "Brothers and sisters," Leo exhorted, "I would like that our first great desire be for a united Church, a sign of unity and communion, which becomes a leaven for a reconciled world." Pope Leo has drawn attention to the first of the four "marks of the Church" that Christians profess in the Nicene Creed: one, holy, catholic, and apostolic. The Church's oneness, or unity, derives from her common foundation (Jesus Christ), a shared set of beliefs, and a singular means of grace in the Holy Spirit. Thus can St. Paul speak of "one Lord, one faith, one baptism." The internal coherence of doctrinal unity has always found its visible, external expression in the person of the pope who, like St. Peter whom he succeeds, is tasked by Jesus to "strengthen the brethren" in that same faith. Catholics rightly look to the pope as a voice of creedal clarity and a bulwark against confusion and distortion. Pope Leo's emphasis on unity, and his awareness of his personal role in both representing and assuring that unity, is welcome and needed. The preceding pontificate was marked by unprecedented doctrinal confusion. Certainly, there has been confusion and error since the earliest days of the Church; what was different was that the confusion came from the pope himself. Pope Francis seemed to revel in studied ambiguity: not explicitly changing Church teaching (which he had no authority to do anyway) but winking at those who would like him to. Can a priest bless a same-sex couple, or simply bless individuals who happen to form a same-sex couple? Can something that touches so closely on the Church's understanding of marriage and human sexuality be permitted in Germany but forbidden in Nigeria? Pope Francis had little regard for such questions, and his biggest fans were always those most eager to see the Church capitulate to the secular zeitgeist. Combined with a certain harshness, especially against those drawn to the Church's most ancient forms of worship, Pope Francis left behind a deeply divided and wounded Church. His successor has, from the start, displayed a more subtle savviness, and his calls for unity are not lost on those who have felt left out in the cold. His serene and confident demeanor, unafraid to embrace the external signs of an office larger than himself, suggests to many Catholics that he is aware of their suffering and wishes to heal the family rift. Even at this early stage, he has prescribed a noteworthy remedy. A week after his election, speaking to the diplomatic corps accredited to the Holy See, Pope Leo said that, "from the Christian perspective, truth is not the affirmation of abstract and disembodied principles, but an encounter with the person of Christ himself, alive in the midst of the community of believers. Truth, then, does not create division, but rather enables us to confront all the more resolutely the challenges of our time." The pope makes clear that truth, the "one faith," is not some arbitrary collection of dogmas. It is the person of Jesus Christ, "the way, the truth, and the life." That theme of unity rooted in Christ has continued to imbue the Holy Father's words throughout the first month of his pontificate. In a ...…

The Catholic Thing

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Five Challenges on Marriage and Family for Pope Leo 7:57

14 days ago7:57

7:57

By Eduardo J. Echeverria. But first a note from Robert Royal: Professor Echeverria lays out today some of the corrections that Pope Leo needs to make on urgent matters that he inherited from Pope Francis. And the American pope just might make them. Just the other day, he asserted that marriage is not an ideal, but a concrete reality - and one that people can live. A good beginning. But we intend to follow up and encourage him to continue along similar lines. We can only do so with your help. We're making some progress, but we've still got a long way to go to assure that we'll be here for the rest of 2025, and beyond. Please, do your part in this essential work. Support The Catholic Thing, today. Now for today's column... In light of Pope Leo XIV's statement that the family is founded on the "stable union between a man and a woman," the responses of the critics and boosters of the late Pope Francis's view of conjugal marriage are striking. The former imply that Leo's view of conjugal marriage as the two-in-one flesh union of a man and a woman reaffirms what Francis had denied, and the latter defend the continuity between Francis and Leo on marriage. On the one hand, the critics are wrong. Throughout his pontificate, Pope Francis consistently taught - even if his teaching was not in the limelight compared to his teaching on environmental issues - the conjugal view of marriage: marriage as the two-in-one-flesh union between a man and a woman. And sexual differentiation being the fundamental prerequisite for the two to become one flesh. Furthermore, St. John Paul II, Benedict XVI, and Pope Francis all affirmed the moral and sacramental significance of the two-in-one-flesh bodily unity as foundational to the marital form of love. Pope Francis upheld the objectivity of God's "primordial divine plan" (see Genesis chapter 1, verse 27, chapter 2, verse 24) of the deepest reality of marriage, grounded in the order of creation. He, as well as Leo, insisted on marriage's ontological nature: "'Marriage' is a historical word. Forever, throughout humanity, and not only in the Church, it is between a man and a woman. You can't change it just like that. It's the nature of things." This teaching is reaffirmed in the Apostolic Exhortations, Evangelii gaudium and Amoris Laetitia, as well as in the encyclical Laudato Si'. On the other hand, the boosters are wrong. Despite Francis's affirmation of conjugal marriage, there are five things that he contributed to undermining it, at least to the perception that he could not unequivocally support conjugal marriage. First, Pope Francis was an advocate of legal support of same-sex civil unions. Doesn't the advocacy of such a union, which has sinful acts at its core constituting the union, corrupt the good of human nature and hence the culture of marriage? Second, he affirmed that "homosexuals experience the gift of love," implying thereby that homosexual "love" is not an inherently disordered form of love, an offense against chastity. Did he think that the homosexual is able to live the vocation to chastity, and hence, of love in a same-sex relationship? How could the homosexual do so? The vocation of chastity involves sexual differentiation between a man and a woman, according to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, which, according to Christian anthropology, means "the successful integration of sexuality within the person and thus the inner unity of man in his bodily and spiritual being." Third, he allowed the controverted practice of same-sex blessings, legitimized in the "Declaration" Fiducia Supplicans. This declaration died the death of a thousand qualifications: from the blessing of a union, to a couple, and, finally, to an individual (see Pope Francis on "60 Minutes"). Regardless, as John Finnis correctly notes, "there is no crucial moral or pastoral difference between. A, blessing people who happen to be sinners, and (b) blessing people as parties to a relationship expressed in sinful acts." ...…

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Bring It On: Let All That is Hidden Come to Light 6:54

15 days ago6:54

6:54

By Anthony Esolen. But first a note from Robert Royal: We all know that we need to overcome the deep divisions that plague us all these days in the Church and society. But there are many things - and Professor Esolen points sharply to several of them here below - that cannot be resolved merely by goodwill. They need to be examined. Debated. Resolved. And properly. Here at The Catholic Thing, we've been in that business for closing in on twenty years now. And who knows where the Church and world would be if we and others had given up on these struggles? We didn't. And we won't. But we need you. Frankly, these first days of our mid-year fundraiser are a little softer than I'd like them to be. I need you to step up, bigger, and again if you already have. The work is long and the day is late. Please, play your part in facing the big challenges that we face. Click the button. Support the work of The Catholic Thing. Now for today's column... Bishop Michael Martin of Charlotte has made news with his order, if I may be permitted a metaphor, that the Vetus Ordo be celebrated only in a certain broom closet in Swannanoa. It seems also that he was about to ban some of the features of the TLM that tradition-minded people who attend the Novus Ordo favor, such as kneeling to receive the Sacrament, or facing the Risen Christ as we pray ad orientem. After the uproar about the latter - not the former, Martin has backed away, assuring people that there will be no big changes - until at least October. Meanwhile, at the website of those music men the Saint Louis Jesuits, I've read a short piece in which once-priest Bob Dufford describes how much he loved Hollywood musicals when he was a boy, naming Rodgers and Hammerstein, and Lerner and Lowe, as his most significant influences. I thought as much. The "folk" music common at Mass has little or nothing to do, in melody or lyrics, with any folk tradition anywhere in the world. Such songs as Dufford's "Like a Shepherd" or Dan Schutte's "Here I Am" are show tunes. They are not like medieval plainsong, or the Scottish Psalter, or the Lutheran hymns that Bach arranged, or American revival hymns, or English carols. Folk melodies are often hauntingly beautiful: Picardy ("Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence"), Slane ("Be Thou My Vision"), St. Elisabeth ("Jesus, the Very Thought of Thee"). They can be sung by people of all ages and both sexes, together. They are not for soloists. They do not sport bizarre tempos and oddball intervals. Their lyrics come in stanzas with recognizable structure. They are thus easy to remember. Show tunes! It's as if we're all supposed to sing, for Mass, some adaptation of "I Feel Pretty" from West Side Story, or of the overblown and narcissistic "Climb Every Mountain" from The Sound of Music. Yet one of the common criticisms of the Novus Ordo as celebrated is just this inclination toward narcissism, with a little effeminacy for spice, and a blithe carelessness about whether the congregation, as a whole, men and women both, boys and girls, can sing the show tunes or will bother to try. Let the battle be engaged, then, on the specifics. I attend the Novus Ordo; my reasons are private. But I'm eager to hear those who detest the old rite try to justify each change and each new liturgical habit, one by one. Suppose someone says, "I attend the old rite because I want to hear the Last Gospel at the end of every high Mass" What response? Why was that suppressed? Or, "The old calendar makes more sense to me, and helps me order my days. That includes the time of Epiphany, which the new rite eliminated, and Septuagesima. It also includes the Octave of Pentecost. Why does that birthday of the Church not merit its octave along with Christmas and Easter?" What possible response? Justify the sudden leap from Ordinary Time to Lent, without preparation. Justify that downgrading of Pentecost. Or, "Man is united by what transcends him. At the old rite, I don't feel chatty. I save that for after ...…

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Hold Back the Darkness: A Review of 'The Ritual' 6:59

16 days ago6:59

6:59

By Brad Miner. But first a note from Robert Royal: Where else are you going to enjoy the art, the film criticism, and the general goodguyness of the Compleat Gentleman, Bradford Miner? An eminence even among other eminences. You know what they all bring you day after day. Never fail. You don't want to fail them, do you? Dig deep into your soul's generosity. You're part of this Catholic Thing, too. Please show it with your tax-deductible contribution. This very day. Now for today's column... Although it was never my intention, I seem to have become The Catholic Thing's resident expert in exorcism, although only in the sense that I've reviewed five movies about the subject: The Rite (2011), The Conjuring 2 (2016), The Exorcist: Believer (2023), The Pope's Exorcist (2023), and now The Ritual (2025), which will be in theaters tomorrow. Al Pacino stars in this story of the actual 1948 exorcism of Emma Schmidt; thus, the film is "based on true events." The promotion of the film refers to the Schmidt case as the "true story that inspired The Exorcist," a reference to William Friedkin's 1973 blockbuster, which is untrue. I suspect the movie poster below that asserts this was created by an art department unfamiliar with the facts. The Exorcist - William Peter Blatty's novel and Friedkin's film - is based, loosely, on the 1949 case of the pseudonymous Roland Doe. The Ritual purports to be the story of Anna Ecklund (a pseudonym used until recently), who underwent exorcism in 1912 and then again in 1928. This was the real Emma Schmidt case. And whereas the characters in The Exorcist are wholly fictional, several of those named in The Ritual were among those who undertook the exorcism of Miss Schmidt (played by Abigail Cowen), including Fr. Theophilus Riesinger (Pacino) and Fr. Joseph Steiger (Dan Stevens). During the exorcism, the real Fr. Steiger took notes, which are the foundation on which director David Midell has constructed his film. That foundation is likely strong; the structure is transparently weak, and this is because Mr. Midell (and his co-screenwriter Enrico Natale) can't help but evoke Friedkin's The Exorcist, which they do poorly. As in that earlier film, the younger priest, who may or may not be questioning his vocation, is tasked with taking on the exorcism of a young woman. He is skeptical and unfamiliar with the rite. His bishop reassures him: another "poor soul" will be the one in charge: Fr. Theophilus Riesinger, OFM. Cap. The Capuchin Fr. Riesinger was a German immigrant, and his 1928 confrontation with Anna Schmidt's demons was not his first: he had tried in 1912 to help the girl in a failed exorcism when she was 30 (Miss Cowen is 27), but the events in the film portray the second exorcism, at which point Miss Schmidt was 46. And Anna Schmidt comes into The Ritual without her fascinating, true backstory. Viewers of The Exorcist will remember various scenes in which young Regan MacNeil (Linda Blair) and her mother, Chris (Ellen Burstyn), interact happily until Regan's behavior begins to change. There is a vector for demons: a Ouija Board. We see Regan acting out. There are hospital visits. We watch Chris's frustration lead to anger and despair. Only then, well into the film, do we meet Fathers Marin (Max von Sydow) and Karras (Jason Miller). And there's that score by Jack Nitzsche (with Mike Oldfield's tubular bells.) The Exorcist is plenty scary, but it's also big, bright, and generous. The real Amma Schmidt was a Catholic woman, a Swiss immigrant, who manifested disturbing symptoms early in her life, including participation in "unspeakable sexual acts." Again, a vector for demons. But none of this is in The Ritual, which is small, dark, and stingy. The film's era is set by a single shot of a vintage automobile in front of the church. There are several other brief scenes shot outdoors. But basically, the rest of the film is darkly lit within small rooms. A few scenes are inside a church, including a couple in wh...…

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tHidden Religion in Washington 6:54

17 days ago6:54

6:54

By David G Bonagura, Jr. But first a note from Robert Royal: Friends, The Catholic Thing, like all things, lives and moves and has its being in the One True God. But its earthly survival depends on you. All of you. Generously giving together to keep things going. We only come to you twice a year with hat in hand - but now's the time again. Please take a minute to ensure that we will all be here for the rest of this year and for many years to come Now for today's column... In 1938, Congress passed the Fair Labor Standards Act, which restricted child labor. Congress believed that children possessed an intrinsic value above monetary quantification. In 1964, Congress passed the Civil Rights Act, which forbade discrimination on the grounds of race, color, or national origin. Congress believed that all human beings were created equal and therefore due equal treatment under the law. In 1990, Congress passed the Americans with Disabilities Act, which forbade discrimination against those with disabilities. Congress believed that physical abilities, or lack of them, do not constitute the essence of a person. His essence, by extension, comes from some other source, and the government is not it. Religion, we often hear, should have no bearing on politics: the wall between church and state shall not be breached. Yet these three laws, to which we could add others, flow directly from a central Christian belief: that the human person is created by God. By fashioning all men and women in His image and likeness, God has endowed human beings with an innate dignity that no other person or entity may violate. We take it for granted today that the government's functions include protecting citizens' rights, many of which, including those protected in these three laws, are pre-political, that is, they are part of persons' nature, not grants of government privilege. We fail to realize that many of these rights are political expressions of the prior Christian belief that all persons are equal because they are all children of the one Father in Heaven. As a result, one person or group cannot be greater than any other, nor exploit any other. "Political problems," wrote Russell Kirk, "at bottom, are religious and moral problems." In other words, our beliefs and morals shape our politics, not the other way around. Beneath every hotly contested political topic of today or yesteryear - immigration, tariffs, welfare, health care, DEI, the Cold War, supply-side economic theory, segregation, slavery, westward expansion, independence from Britain - lie beliefs that shape the approach and policy. There is no such thing as a "neutral" politics devoid of prior beliefs and principles. Sometimes these beliefs are tenets of Christianity, such as the inherent dignity of the person, which has given rise to the push for legal equality. I doubt that vociferous secularists who decry any odor of religion in public life would reject equality because it is "tainted" by religion. Other beliefs are philosophical, such as certain economic and geopolitical theories. And sometimes beliefs come from a distinctly modern kind of religion that eschews traditional forms such as churches or hierarchies. These beliefs stem from ideologies, systems of ideas abstracted from various theories and harmonized into programs to direct a nation (or the world itself) toward preconceived ends. Like revealed religion, ideologies have dogmas and exist to save human beings from the sins of the world. Just as Christian beliefs lie hidden in Washington, modern ideologies lie hidden there, too. Expressive individualism, the belief that the individual and his sexual freedom are the most important considerations of society, drives abortion and family law. Gender ideology, the belief that gender is a construct of the mind divorced from nature, drives school curricula, medical laws, and cultural practices from library collections to the bizarre "drag queen story hour." Diversity, equity, and inclusion, th...…

The Catholic Thing

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Conclave Haste? 7:11

18 days ago7:11

7:11

By Fr. Raymond J. de Souza. But first a note from Robert Royal: We're off to a strong start for our mid-year fundraiser, which began yesterday. But if you didn't see our initial request, today is a good day as well to make your contribution. The need is obvious, the means clear. If you value strong reporting and analysis of what's going on in the Church and the world - and faithful encouragement of what should be going on - TCT is your "thing." We're lean, tough (not mean), and always appropriately serene. Help keep this vital work of ours going. Click the button. Do a good deed today. Support TCT. Now for today's column... Conclave 2025 was not, by historical standards, exceptionally short. But it was short. It was the third straight Conclave to conclude on its first full day. Is that a cause for concern? No one really knows except those who were in the Sistine Chapel. They are sworn to secrecy. Only Pope Leo XIV is completely free to ask them about their experience, and only the Holy Father can make any necessary modifications in future Conclave practice. It's too early to be thinking about the next Conclave, but it would be advisable for Leo to take informal soundings now, while memories are still fresh, even if there is no urgency to act. There are not many Cardinals who have broad experience of Conclaves. Only five have taken part in three Conclaves (2005, 2013 and 2025), and twenty more were part of two (2013, 2025). They are the ones who could offer some comparison of their experiences. The strict seclusion and secrecy of the Conclave is intended to preserve the freedom of the Cardinals to act without exterior influence, to protect them from external pressure. They are not able to follow what is going on outside, and no one will ever know how an individual elector voted. That permits, for example, Cardinal Stephen Chow of Hong Kong - should he be minded to do so - to vote for a candidate that would defy the Chinese Communist Party. Or to vote for one who would capitulate. He is free to vote his conscience. Yet the digital age may create another kind of pressure. I asked several Cardinals after the 2013 Conclave whether there was pressure to come to a quick conclusion, to produce a result for an impatient instant-communication world. Their answer was yes, that there was a sense that a "deadlocked" Conclave - even just proceeding to a third day - might signal division and disunity. The pressure in times gone by was real; indeed, Catholic sovereigns would send a Cardinal from their territories to carry their "veto" into the conclave. The last time that was done was in 1903, when the Cardinal from Kraków exercised the veto of the Habsburg emperor. St. Pius X eliminated that almost immediately. Potential pressure today comes not from one regime against a particular papabile. It's not really from anyone but from everyone, from a digital world unimagined when St. John Paul the Great wrote the current rules for the conclave in 1996. The pressure for a quick resolution may well impinge on the freedom of the electors. I did not report on this Conclave, but many of those who did wrote in advance that, given the large number of Cardinals, many of whom were rather unknown to each other, the voting might take longer. To the contrary, it seems that the result was clear before pranzo on the first full day. It is possible that a new kind of external pressure is felt; to paraphrase Jesus at the Last Supper: what is to be done should be done quickly. Again, one does not know. It may well be that today's speed of travel means that Conclaves actually "begin" much earlier, in the formal daily meetings ("general congregations") and the many informal gatherings which precede the conclave itself. It's plausible that what had previously been sorted out in the first series of ballots is now already done before the Cardinals actually begin voting. The recent 24-hour Conclaves may not actually have been conducted in undue haste. Still, the elec...…

The Catholic Thing

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Overcoming the Crisis of a Church Divided 7:04

19 days ago7:04

7:04

By Robert Royal. The word I hear most from Catholics as we approach the end of the first month under our American-born pope is "relief." Serious tensions had accumulated within the Church under Pope Francis, who sometimes seemed to be deliberately - or haphazardly - exacerbating divisions. Openness, dialogue, and listening towards liberals well beyond the borders of the Faith, but exclusion, peremptory fiats, and ignoring of traditional Catholics. And yet, the progressives, too, felt dissatisfied: Francis died without allowing deaconesses (let alone women priests), pulled away the football after repeatedly teeing it up in front of the LGBT+ crowd, dithered over the runaway German "synodal" way. And in the end, he even kicked the can down the road for his own synodal path by removing the "hot-button" issues from consideration by assigning them to ten "study groups" (reports due this month) and scheduling an "ecclesial assembly" (whatever that is) three years from now, when he almost certainly knew he would not be around. So, it's no surprise that many Catholics are, at least for the moment, enjoying a breath of fresh air in the Church. With the possible exception of Robert Prevost, Pope Leo XIV himself, whose job it now is to be pontifex maximus, the supreme bridge-builder, in the midst of it all. He's receiving granular scrutiny already for what he may or may not be signaling about the direction of his papacy. And that, too, is a concerning factor: Like everyone else in our social-media age, whatever he does or says (and sometimes things invented about him) is instantly transmitted and judged, not so much by the standards of the Gospel as by the most superficial and overheated modes of our times. Jesus famously left us the saying: "every city or house divided against itself shall not stand." (Matthew 12:25) (It's telling that if you Google "a house divided," it returns a TV series of that name, and only further down the Gospel reference.) And given our media environment, Pope Leo XIV was right to tell the assembled journalists after his election that, whether they are aware of it or not, they have a high calling, and an especially difficult one today: "Blessed are the peacemakers" (Matthew 5:9). This is a Beatitude that challenges all of us, but it is particularly relevant to you, calling each one of you to strive for a different kind of communication, one that does not seek consensus at all costs, does not use aggressive words, does not follow the culture of competition and never separates the search for truth from the love with which we must humbly seek it. Peace begins with each one of us: in the way we look at others, listen to others and speak about others. In this sense, the way we communicate is of fundamental importance: we must say "no" to the war of words and images, we must reject the paradigm of war. That's easier said - though well said - than done, especially since journalists themselves have for years been drawn into a different "paradigm" of their profession. With a few noble exceptions, they often now think of themselves as social justice warriors instead of reporters. They serve up, or fail to cover, stories already intended to produce partisan outcomes (and online clicks) rather than information and context by which people can make responsible judgments. Leo rightly added: "let us disarm communication of all prejudice and resentment, fanaticism and even hatred; let us free it from aggression. We do not need loud, forceful communication, but rather communication that is capable of listening and of gathering the voices of the weak who have no voice. Let us disarm words and we will help to disarm the world. Disarmed and disarming communication allows us to share a different view of the world and to act in a manner consistent with our human dignity." [emphasis added] Here at The Catholic Thing we have not shied away from controversy or recalling hard truths. But controversy is something different than combat...…

The Catholic Thing

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Two Reflections on the Visitation 13:36

21 days ago13:36

13:36

Elizabeth's Faith as Shown in the Visitation By Michael Pakaluk Mary travelled "with haste" to visit Elizabeth. The trip of 90 miles can be done in under four days by a fit person walking quickly. Conception takes place in the fallopian tube, and after that, for about six days, the embryo travels down the tube to implant in the uterus. Therefore, the Lord was an embryo in the blastula stage in one of Mary's fallopian tubes, not even implanted, when Mary greeted Elizabeth. Elizabeth, five months earlier, when she had discovered she was pregnant, had placed herself in seclusion. She would not go to the market and share her joy with her neighbors. Apparently, she was overwhelmed by God's mercy and wished to devote the time of her pregnancy, silently, to prayer and contemplation. This was truly the first "novena," the first nine-unit time of prayer (it was not, as people sometimes say, the gathering of the Apostles between the Ascension and Pentecost). Elizabeth, therefore, teaches all Christian moms that the nine months of pregnancy are a time ordained by nature's God for more intense prayer. It was because she was in seclusion that even her kinswoman, Mary, had not heard of her pregnancy and needed to be told about it by the angel Gabriel. What did Elizabeth contemplate in her seclusion? No doubt, Scriptures about the Messiah, and about the woman who would be the mother of the Messiah and the New Eve. But she also, doubtless, dwelt on the angel's words to Zechariah, which her husband had written down for her on wax tablets, just as he later wrote down, "His name is John." Elizabeth knew that if her son was to be the forerunner of the Messiah, then the mother of the Messiah was to be a contemporary or a near contemporary. She could infer that just as she, an old woman and barren, had conceived the Messiah's forerunner, so it would be a Virgin who would conceive the Messiah himself, as Scripture foretold, in its authoritative interpretation at the time: Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign; behold, a virgin shall conceive in the womb, and shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his name Emmanuel." (Isaiah chapter 7:14) Would it be Elizabeth's role to be the forerunner of the Mother of the Messiah, just as her son was to be the forerunner of the Messiah? Certainly, in her mind, contemplating this woman, so like her, she would have already regarded her as the most blessed of all women. In spirit, she would have given this title to this woman well before Mary's visit. Luke tells us that Mary entered the home of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth specifically. Zechariah is not mentioned in his own home, for the reason that he was not with Elizabeth, as Elizabeth was maintaining seclusion. In any case, he was mute. Mary is apparently the first person Elizabeth has associated with in five months. Elizabeth recognizes that just as the sound of Mary's greeting reaches her ears, the baby in her womb jumped. She says in fact that it jumped for joy: and since she is the mom, her interpretation must be taken as decisive. Likewise, she interprets this joy as joy at encountering the Messiah. Remember, she has been in seclusion. News could not have travelled that fast, in any case. Mary has not had time to speak. It is solely inference: from the fact that her baby jumps, she infers that the Messiah is present. He cannot be Mary. Therefore, Mary is carrying Him. Filled with the Holy Spirit, she expresses in a loud voice - recognition. "It is you - you are the woman I have been contemplating who is blessed among women." And then she affirms the presence of the Lord, "blessed is the fruit of your womb." Elizabeth thereby witnesses to the Lordship, and the divine and human nature, of the blastula floating within Mary. Did Mary have any subjective experience when she conceived Jesus, so that she recognized the moment when "the power of the Most High" overshadowed her? Normally, conception is not perceived. If she had no subjective ex...…

The Catholic Thing

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The Blessed Virgin and the Holy Spirit 6:32

22 days ago6:32

6:32

by Fr. Peter M. J. Stravinskas. In these last days of May, we pray the novena to the Holy Spirit (May 30-June 7), in preparation for Pentecost. And it's useful to reflect on what the Holy Spirit did for the Blessed Virgin Mary, making her both Mother of Jesus and Mother of the Church. By this approach, we cap our honoring of Mary during her month of May. We honor the Holy Spirit, and we honor also all Christians who have taken seriously the work of the Holy Spirit after the example of Mary. All of Mary's greatness as a Christian is owing to the fact that the Holy Spirit came upon her, and that she lived in the presence of God, continuously aware of His presence in her life. Our Lady cooperated with the Spirit's promptings in loving obedience to God's Word; she daily renewed her fiat at the Annunciation. Mary the Virgin heeded the Lord's plan for her and thus became fruitful. Mary's life was an ongoing Magnificat; she was a woman of peace and joy because she gave the Spirit of God free rein in her life. When she experienced the overshadowing of the Holy Spirit, she did not keep Him to herself; she immediately went forth to share that experience and its meaning, for she realized that a life in the Spirit necessarily involves service to others. So, not considering her own precarious situation, she went through the rough hill country to tend to her elderly and unexpectedly pregnant cousin, Elizabeth. What does all this have to do with you and me? A great deal, for what happened in the life of the Blessed Virgin Mary can and must happen in our own lives. Each of us has received the Holy Spirit in Baptism and Confirmation. Have we done anything with the Spirit? Are we more peaceful, more loving, more joyous for having received those sacraments? If not, we have not activated the power of the Spirit in our lives. Here's a test to see whether you are a Spirit-filled person. It's very simple: What have you done with the gifts the Spirit of God has given to you? Jesus said, "By their fruits you will know them" (Matthew 7:16). We know the fruit Our Lady brought forth, for every day we say: "Blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus." Are you possessed by God's Spirit? Have you brought forth Christ to the world in which you live? We have also celebrated Mother's Day this month. Christian mothers find their inspiration and example in the Blessed Mother. In an era when motherhood is denigrated, it's well to affirm the irreplaceability of the vocation of motherhood and thus the debt owed to each and every mother, not just our own. "The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world!" One of the great recent confessors of the faith, Cardinal Joseph Mindszenty, confronting the depersonalization and utilitarianism of Communism, felt compelled to write a paean to mothers, worth recalling in our own day, which has replicated that self-same depersonalization and utilitarianism: The most important person on earth is a mother. She cannot claim the honor of having built Notre Dame Cathedral. She need not. She has built something more magnificent than any cathedral - a dwelling for an immortal soul, the tiny perfection of her baby's body. The angels have not been blessed with such a grace. They cannot share in God's creative miracle to bring new saints to Heaven. Only a human mother can. Mothers are closer to God the Creator than any other creatures. God joins forces with mothers in performing this act of creation. What on God's good earth is more glorious than this: to be a mother? The great Jesuit poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins, composed a grand work, "The Blessed Virgin Compared to the Air We Breathe." Interestingly, in Hebrew, ruach has a number of meanings: breath, wind, spirit - all of which come into play in Pentecost. Hopkins brings all this together in this sampling of his verses: WILD air, world-mothering air, Nestling me everywhere, That each eyelash or hair Girdles; goes home betwixt The fleeciest, frailest-flixed Snowflake; that's fairly mixed ...…

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What the Ascension Means 6:12

23 days ago6:12

6:12

by Stephen P. White. but first a note : Be sure to tune in to EWTN tonight - Thursday, May 29th at 8 PM Eastern - Host Raymond Arroyo interviews TCT Editor-in-Chief Robert Royal about his new book Martyrs of the New Millennium: Global Persecution of Christians in the 21st Century. Check your local listings for the channel in your area. Shows are usually available shortly after first airing on the EWTN YouTube channel. now for today's column... It is easy to think of Heaven as a merely spiritual reality in which we are free from the physical toil and sorrow of this earthly life. But we never ought to forget that Heaven is for bodies, too. We look forward to the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come. Today's feast of the Ascension is a particular reminder that we ought to see our own bodies - and use our bodies - with such an eye toward higher things. We humans don't make any sense without our bodies. Sure, we can imagine ourselves (and unfortunately many people today do so imagine themselves) as a mind or spirit or "consciousness" trapped in a meat-machine. Our bodies, we tell ourselves, have no more intrinsic meaning than any of the rest of vibrating matter that makes up our world. All this stuff only has so much meaning as we give to it. Accordingly, we imagine ourselves at liberty to manipulate and use all this mere stuff within such ever-expanding limits our technology, or the market, will allow. The misery caused by this way of seeing ourselves and our world is incalculable. This sort of disembodied ethos even crops up in certain corners of Catholic moral theology wherein the concrete nature of acts is diminished or denied and all that we are left with for distinguishing good from evil is intention. It is a tempting path, one which grows more tempting by the day as our power to manipulate the material world increases. It is also tempting in that it requires no up-front disavowal of God or spiritual realities, only a denial that matter comes with its own built-in meaning. Deny the Creator or deny the nature of his Creation; it's all more or less the same to the Devil, who really doesn't care so much if you're actually an atheist so long as you act like one. "The truth," as we read in Gaudium et Spes, "is that only in the mystery of the incarnate Word does the mystery of man take on light." This mystery of the incarnate Word includes more than the moment the Word became flesh in the womb of Mary. It encompasses more, even, than the birth, life, passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus. The Ascension, too, is part of the mystery of the incarnate Word. In the words of St. Augustine, "The Resurrection of our Lord is our hope; the Ascension of our Lord is our glorification." If the mystery of man takes on light only in the mystery of the Incarnate word, then the Ascension tells us something fundamental about our own humanity and our own bodies. Jesus Christ, true God and true man, retains the fullness of his human nature. Yes, Christ's body is resurrected and glorified. But the body that rose from the grave, the body that still bears the marks of the Crucifixion, this same body ascends into Heaven. Christ takes his place at the right hand of the Father, not by shedding his body, but with that same body. In the words of Pope St. John Paul II, "For all eternity Christ takes his place as the firstborn among many brethren: our nature is with God in Christ. And as man, the Lord Jesus lives forever to intercede for us with the Father. At the same time, from His throne of glory, Jesus sends out to the whole Church a message of hope and a call to holiness." Because Christ, who shares our nature, sits on the throne of glory, the horizon against which we understand our own lives and our own bodies, has been irrevocably altered. That is the Church's "message of hope"- a share in Christ's own glory - but how is it, as John Paul II said, "a call to holiness?" Does he simply mean that holiness is the condition and pat...…

The Catholic Thing

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Slumming as Only Pharisees Can Do 5:32

24 days ago5:32

5:32

By Anthony Esolen. "Tony," said a high school friend to me, and he meant it, "you've got the brains and the good looks, but you don't know how to dress." That was in our Catholic school, and the boys all wore jackets and ties, and kept themselves clean-shaved, too, or else our good and wise Dean, Mr. Buzad, would call them into his office where they could perform that operation with an old razor and cold water. That came just at the end of a time when boys and girls took some care to dress in a somewhat formal way, at all appropriate occasions, lest they embarrass themselves. I see now that it was far more important than I knew. These proprieties, in school, were small acts of submission to something greater than us, and acts of charity toward one another. Among the boys, because everyone wore a jacket and tie, no one stood out as obnoxious or aggressive in dress; and what we wore was a sign that we were at school, not on the ballfield, not at the pool hall, not at the beach. Among the girls, because everyone wore the uniform, and because they were forbidden to turn it into a miniskirt, there was no costly and distracting competition; no one's uniform said, "I am richer than you are," much less, "I am more willing than you are." Yet this sense of propriety, or of the goodness of ceremony, was being attacked incessantly in popular culture - or I should say by the engines of mass entertainment, crushing true human culture to rubble. Nor did the Church put up enough resistance. Many a religious order and many a priest went along with the times, mistaking informality for fellowship, and permissiveness for love. That was not only incorrect. It hurt people, even when they were a part of the demolition crew and so were not aware of the loss. But that crew was led by the elites, not by the poor or the working class. For ordinary human beings are attracted to ceremony, as they are attracted to music and art: ceremony is the music of human gesture, extended to a congregation, an assembly, a platoon, a school, in the service of what is beyond them all, and that means, though it may be but implicit or as secret in their souls as a pearl in a box, in the service of the divine. Ceremony has a power to unite that is unlike anything else in our experience. I recall here one morning at Saint John the Evangelist Church, in Stamford, Connecticut. I had given a lecture the evening before, and stayed overnight in the rectory. Before breakfast that day, some men of the parish came together, as was their custom once a week, for morning prayer. I joined them. We knelt on the hard marble floor - it was a men's group, you see. We prayed, and then we sat down to hear a lesson on the day's reading, given by the shrewd Msgr. Di Giovanni, who had organized the group and knew what he was about. Then came breakfast. Among those in attendance were men of all ages and ethnicities and from all walks of life: the stockbroker, kneeling on that same floor next to the construction worker, equal before the word of God. Now, if you asked people simply to show up for an informal talk, I doubt that the Hispanic man with his marked accent would have felt nearly as comfortable doing so. I doubt then that the strong friendships I saw quite clearly, across what otherwise divides us, would have developed. It is precisely the ceremony that sweeps such differences aside, just as, when I was a boy, the men in military uniform, marching to our town's cemeteries early in the morning on Memorial Day to fire a 21-gun salute in honor of the deceased veterans, were visible not by what they did for a living nor by what each individual chose to wear, but by their common submission to the national honor. When I am on the road and I attend Mass at a church I don't know, the more informal it is, the more the chatter, the less comfortable I feel, because behind that informality and chatter is the message, "This is how we celebrate Mass here, because we like it this way." And you eithe...…

The Catholic Thing

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How Do People Even Do It? 5:24

25 days ago5:24

5:24

by Randall Smith. "How do people even do it?" she asked. "How do people who don't believe in God get through this?" My friend was applying to graduate schools. "These decisions are in the hands of people I don't know and who don't know me. And they will affect the rest of my life - whom I meet, I marry, my children, my career. If you didn't believe a provident God was watching over all this," she exclaimed, "it would just be depressing." I know what she means. So many things in life are outside our control. But there's also this even more depressing reality. I am burdened with sin. This should come as no surprise, certainly not to people who know me. I'm not making a public confession here (although that reminds me; I should probably go). I mean, it's not like I've killed millions of people or anything. But that's a low bar, and I would prefer to set it higher. Let's just say that if the Biblical measure is being forgiven seven times seventy-seven times, I maxed that out a long time ago. And if you challenged me about some horrible sin with the question: "Are you saying that it never entered your mind?" I probably wouldn't be able to say no - not without committing another sin. There's something wonderful about Confession, but there's also something depressing about confessing the same sins repeatedly, week after week. I won't say that God's grace hasn't brought about some improvement. But fighting sin is a little like playing Whack-a-Mole. You knock one sin down and another one pops up somewhere else. Where did you come from? When people say, "You're a terrible human being," or "You're an ignorant fool," I can only reply: "Oh my, you have no idea!" And to be honest, I have no idea. As C.S. Lewis points out, sin blinds you to your own sinfulness. When the saints say, "I am a sinner," they're not just being modest. Only saints have the purity of soul and clarity of vision to see the extent of their own sinfulness. For most of the rest of us, following the admonition to "know thyself" is like looking into a dark abyss. There might be some scattered candle lights, but you know there are some nasty orcs living down there, and you'd prefer not to face them, let alone fight them. Given this grim reality, it's hard for me to hear that "the measure with which I measure is the measure with which I shall be measured." Or that I am supposed to "forgive as I have been forgiven." Not only do I sin and want forgiveness, I don't "forgive as I have been forgiven" (which, as I admitted, is way past the seven times seventy-seven number). So that's yet another sin. It's like looking at one of those digital counters that is ticking up the federal debt. The numbers just keep piling up. So I don't quite understand people who rejoice in condemning others and then calling it "charity." So, like my friend, I worry about the people who don't believe in a loving God who not only forgives us, but also sends us the grace to do better, "What do they even do? How do they deal with the fact that there's so much evil in the world and in our own hearts? What relieves the burden of sin? What gives them hope in the face of death? We live in a culture that, for some reason, seems convinced that belief in the Christian God is a "burden" to be avoided. That's odd. One would have thought that belief in a meaningless universe with no moral point or boundaries and no true forgiveness would be the greater burden. At least the Christian God provides a moral standard to guide us and a means of forgiveness when we fail. If I thought going into a Catholic Church was a public proclamation of sinlessness, I would never enter. But since I take it that going into a Catholic Church is a public proclamation that "I am a sinner, in need of God's forgiveness and grace," I'm happy to go in. In the same spirit, I wait in line for Confession, and while I'm embarrassed to be back there, I look at the others in line and remember: "I'm not alone. These people must be sinners too, ot...…

The Catholic Thing

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Where is Pope Francis? 10:13

26 days ago10:13

10:13

By Sebastian Morello. It seems a decision has been made among many outlets of the Catholic commentariat to remain, for the time being, uncritical of the new pope, Leo XIV. Undoubtedly, this approach is the right one, as everyone should proceed in good will, hoping that with Prevost's election will come a new chapter after the unhappy decade or so of Francis's pontifical reign. But, troublingly, for the third time since his pontificate began only a short while ago, Pope Leo XIV has declared that the soul of Pope Francis is in Heaven. Most recently, Pope Leo asserted this to be the case via an official Pontifex 'tweet' on the social media platform X, which stated that Francis had "returned to the Father's house. He accompanies us and prays for the Church from Heaven." But this eccentric habit of declaring, outside any official canonisation process, that, as it were, no such process is needed, is deeply problematic. It is difficult to avoid the conclusion that the faithful of the Catholic Church are being prepared for this highly controversial figure (who, as one journalist friend put it to me, "lingered over the Church for twelve years as if he were an enormous dark cloud") to be canonised soon, as if it were inevitable and unavoidable. There are several very serious problems with Leo repeatedly stating that Francis is in Heaven. For one, such statements cause the faithful to doubt the gravity of Francis's public sins. These sins are not inconsiderable, given that they include idol-worship (Pachamama), the suppression of an ancient apostolic rite of the Church, syncretism and religious relativism, the protection and promotion of predators and deviants, the abuse of the Church's law, the teaching of heresy, etc. Who knows if Francis was a heretic, but it's clear that he was heretical. The distinction being that the former would have required him to be publicly accused of heresy and for him in response to have held obstinately to his heresies. Given that he customarily refused to meet with those who raised objections to his teaching or manner of governing, we were not given the opportunity to witness any obstinate attachment to heresy. But in any case, the record is not good. If such sins can be committed and the perpetrator still immediately enjoys the beatific vision upon his death, then the message to the faithful is clear: either these sins were not even as grave as our ancient faith would have led us to believe, or they are not sins at all. Perhaps people will not be led to such erroneous conclusions, but then the remaining alternative is that, despite the Church's age-old teaching to the contrary, Purgatory does not really exist. If such sins can be committed without any need for purgation from the guilt entailed by them, then Purgatory must not be in fact necessary. Thus, again, if the faith is to remain intact among the faithful, Leo's habit of declaring Francis's heavenly status is far from desirable. Such declarations by Leo, moreover, discourage the faithful of the Church from exercising charity. Whatever our view of Francis, he was a baptised member of the Church and thus a brother in Christ who may now stand very much in need of our prayers. For if his sins are as grave as the ancient faith would lead us to believe, even if he made a perfect act of contrition prior to his death and made a good confession, his soul will remain in Purgatory for a very, very long time. Those who wish to participate in God's mercy upon Francis's soul, and therefore to say prayers and do acts of penance for his benefit, may be dissuaded from doing so by the reigning pope's repeated statements. But there is another reason why Leo is, in fact, playing with fire. It has not gone unnoticed among many of the Church's faithful that, of late, canonisations have been co-opted as an instrument in what has for decades been the dominant ecclesiastical regime. Instrumentalising such holy things, besides being sacrilegious, is a very foolish thing t...…

The Catholic Thing

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What Makes for Peace 5:52

27 days ago5:52

5:52

by Fr. Paul D. Scalia. "It is the decision of the Holy Spirit and of us…" This line from today's first reading (Acts 15:1-2, 22-29) sounds a little odd. As if the decision of the Holy Spirit wasn't enough, the Apostles have to add "and of us." It calls to mind the story of the priest who pompously began his sermon, "Our Lord once said - and I think He's right…" Or, still curiouser, it can sound as though the Holy Spirit and the Apostles had finally come to some agreement. Still, despite its odd sound, the phrase is extraordinarily important - and a harbinger of peace. "It is the decision of the Holy Spirit and of us…" The Holy Spirit didn't need the Apostles' affirmation, and the two parties had not come to some kind of compromise. Rather, that line confirms that the Holy Spirit is working through the Apostles, and the Apostles are the instruments of the Holy Spirit. What the Apostles hand down from Jerusalem is no human opinion but the authoritative teaching of the Spirit. Now, the occasion for this declaration reveals the purpose of the Church's teaching authority: to confirm the faithful and thus give them peace. In Antioch, there had been many Gentile converts, and the Church was prospering. But then some came from Judea and said, "Unless you are circumcised according to the Mosaic practice, you cannot be saved." (Acts 15:1) As one might expect, this requirement disturbed the peace of the Church in Antioch. Part of their trouble would certainly have been the requirement of circumcision. But the greater reason for their lack of peace was the uncertainty about God's will. How were they to live as Christians? What did it mean to believe in the Christ? Were they, as Saint Paul describes it, "running in vain"? (Galatians 2:2) The Apostles were aware of what that lack of clarity had done. "We have heard that some of our number who went out without any mandate from us have upset you with their teachings and disturbed your peace of mind." So they are also confident that their clear teaching will restore peace of mind. Through that Apostolic letter, the Antiochenes will know the truth and have the confidence that they're not running in vain. "In His will is our peace," Dante famously wrote. We try to find peace in doing our own will, in having our own way. That might keep anxiety at bay, for a time. But it's ultimately in vain. We find peace in knowing and doing His will. Which is not to say that we find comfort, prosperity, or popularity. Only that we possess the tranquility of knowing that we are on the right path. And when we know that we are walking in integrity and truth, then we can endure and even embrace a great deal of discomfort, poverty, and scorn. "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you." Jesus speaks these familiar words while He also speaks of keeping His word (John 14:23-29) - that is, of obedience. Again, peace is found through His word of truth. Indeed, throughout the Last Supper discourse He teaches the Apostles about commands and obedience, peace and joy. Only in knowing and obeying His commands can we know peace and joy. Of course, to the worldly minded these things - commands and obedience, peace, and joy - are contradictory. Obedience to God's command deprives us of peace and joy. In His will is not our peace but our slavery and elimination. Because we are in competition with Him. The world resents any clear teaching because it comes with responsibility. Thus, worldlings are forever trying to create the tall grass and blur distinctions, lest the arduous but true path be revealed. So, our Lord makes the necessary distinction: "Not as the world gives do I give it to you." The world gives "peace" by ignoring or denying problems. Christ bestows real peace by entering into our greatest sorrows, even into death itself. The world proposes the false peace of contentment and comfort. Christ gives the true peace that calls us to higher things. The world settles for a false peace by numbing our pain with drin...…

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In Memoriam: Alasdair MacIntyre 6:39

28 days ago6:39

6:39

By Joseph R. Wood. Alasdair MacIntyre, one of the greatest philosophers of the 20th and 21st centuries, died on May 21. MacIntyre was born in Scotland and, after education in Britain, moved to the United States. He taught at several universities, including Duke, Yale, Princeton, Vanderbilt, and finally Notre Dame. There, with Ambassador Mary Ann Glendon and John Finnis, he was also a Permanent Senior Distinguished Research Fellow at the de Nicola Center for Ethics and Culture. He was a friend and admirer of Notre Dame's Ralph McInerny, a Thomistic scholar and founding contributor to The Catholic Thing. MacIntyre's academic career centered on moral philosophy: how we know and choose the good and right, or how we avoid evil and do good. His contributions in this field were immense. MacIntyre began his philosophical career as a Marxist and critic of Aristotelian-Thomist philosophy, until he discovered one day that he had become an Aristotelian-Thomist. He retained elements of his critique of capitalism and its associated modern political form of liberal democracy throughout his career. But his antidote to the problems of capitalism and modern democracy was rather different than that of Marx. MacIntyre's most famous work is After Virtue, published in 1981. He begins that work by noting that many of our political debates that carry the greatest moral freight - those we might associate with what others have called "culture wars" - seem to be interminable and irresolvable. We have lost the ability to reason together about these questions, because we have forgotten a common vocabulary that once enabled us in the West to think and argue seriously about moral truth. He traces how this loss came about, with the result that our discourse is now dominated by "emotivism." The emotivist argues, or at least acts on the premise, that "all moral judgments are nothing but expressions of preference, attitude. . .or feeling." In other words, there is no logos or reason involved in our moral claims, just our feelings. We can't know anything objective or absolute about right and wrong, so there is no shared understanding of right and wrong. Our debates thus roll on without end, and the arts of persuasion serve not truth but the mere ephemeral and illusory pursuit of power in corporations, government, media, education, and other domains. From this tour of the history of philosophy and where the recent centuries of that history have landed us, MacIntyre attempts to restore and strengthen the Aristotelian-Thomist virtue tradition by introducing concepts such as "practice," by which he means "any coherent and complex form of socially established cooperative human activity through which goods internal to that form of activity are realized in the course of trying to achieve those standards of excellence. . .appropriate to that form of activity." Through practices, we become virtuous, and we extend human powers of excellence and achieve good. When we learn to play chess well, we develop the "internal goods" of knowing what it is to play chess with excellence. "External goods" - praise or monetary rewards that go with recognition of our excellence - might follow, but they only reflect the internal goods we achieve as excellence of practice. MacIntyre was a football fan, and being an excellent football player and member of the team is another example of practice. What MacIntyre would have thought about transfer portals and "name, image, and likeness" agreements that place money over college loyalty, I don't know. But he did have a reputation for being sharply acerbic. We learn these virtues of practices in small communities that seek a common good, and the practices themselves - handed down to us and to be handed on - shape our understanding of our lives as stories or narratives. These human narratives began before us and will continue beyond. Peter Berkowitz, a superb political theorist and commentator, once remarked to me that After Virtue was a rare t...…

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Pope Leo and the Ordo Amoris 6:26

29 days ago6:26

6:26

By Daniel B. Gallagher. No one is subject to more intense scrutiny than a new pope. Politicians have the campaign trail to air out their past records and proposals for the future. Cardinals - let's hope - never go on the campaign trail. So, the details of Pope Leo's life went from being of interest to family and friends to that of the entire world. Just ask his brothers. Of extreme interest, then, was Cardinal Prevost's post on X that read: "JD Vance is wrong: Jesus doesn't ask us to rank our love for others." There is a problem here, though. These were not the Cardinal's words. They are by Kat Armas, whose commentary Prevost reposted. Prior to Francis's passing, I pointed out on this site the truth in Armas' interpretation of ordo amoris, but cautioned about its deficiencies. Similarly with James Orr's interpretation. The history of ordo amoris is complex and the reasoning quite subtle. But given that we have an Augustinian pope with an ostensible interest in Armas' commentary, I would like to improve on my initial attempt to understand the concept. Augustine's City of God is an ambitious attempt to explain the relationship between the secular and the eternal according to the Christian faith. He describes three general ways of understanding how human beings go wrong. The first is that we simply don't know enough. We are ignorant, and the only way to overcome the ignorance that causes us to do evil is to know more. If we only knew all the circumstances surrounding a moral choice and had perfected our use of logic to deduce the right action, we would never go wrong. Provided we are free to perform that action, we couldn't help but perform it since the power to perform it lies completely within us. This roughly describes the Pelagian view that Augustine vigorously attacked, insisting that our salvation ultimately depends on God's grace and not on our self-perfection. "O God," Augustine wrote, "grant what you command, and command what you desire." In other words, "I am utterly unable to attain what you command by my own power, so give me the grace to know that you command it precisely because you, the All Good, desire it." The second way of going wrong depends largely on outside factors because we are engaged in a cosmic struggle between two ultimate principles, light and darkness. Much of what we experience happens, in this view, because of the stars (astrology) or sheer luck. Although we're free, our moral actions are largely formed by what lies outside us, regardless of our intentions, will, and powers. This roughly describes the Manichaean position that Augustine fiercely denounced, calling it a "childish superstition." He countered it by writing, "I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more." In other words, "I have sensed something delightful, and it has aroused my desire for more of it." Augustine's exposition of a third way left a permanent imprint not only on Christian doctrine but on our way of interpreting history and distinguishing between the eternal and the secular. It's foundational for a renewed conception of the ordo amoris. It's not simply that we don't know enough (Pelagianism) or are caught in a cosmic struggle (Manichaeanism). Rather, we are pulled interiorly by an inexorable love for the good but fail miserably in attaining it. We are aware of an inner dynamism that compels us to love, but we are free to either love what is evil or love what is good. And more often than not, we find ourselves trapped by the former but yearning for the latter. This, quite simply, is "original sin," and there is only one way out of it: "Our hearts are restless until they find rest in You." This leads Augustine to define "virtue" as simply ordo amoris, the "order of love." (City of God, XV, 22) In other words, when we are truly virtuous, we are able to arrange the various particular goods in our lives according to their inherent connection to the One Good, God. Thus, to live according to the ordo amoris is not simpl...…

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Our Lord's Languages of Love 6:04

30 days ago6:04

6:04

By Michael Pakaluk. We say that "prayer is conversation with God," but that's not strictly correct. Prayer to God is conversation with God. Prayer to a saint is conversation with a saint. So, rather, prayer is conversation. It gets its name from just one thing we can do in a conversation, which is to ask (Latin, precare). Being an interlocutor in a conversation is hardly an incommunicable trait of divinity. Therefore, Protestants make a gross blunder when they accuse Catholics who pray to Mary of idolatry, simply because they converse with her. There is no reason why the only person in Heaven one can have "a personal relationship" with should be Jesus. In fact, if as Christians we are meant to imitate Jesus, then we must converse with Mary, and not to do so is to fail dramatically to imitate Him. I assume that Christians, and laypersons in particular, are meant to imitate Jesus in his "hidden life" at home, before he went out to his public ministry. These thirty years were 90 percent of His lifespan. We know almost nothing about them directly. Therefore, we must use what we do know about human nature to draw inferences about it, since he was a "perfect man." We know that he worked, for instance. Therefore, by pondering the best workers, we can infer how he worked. Boys talk to their moms all the time. But let's go back. The life of a newborn boy begins with him gazing lovingly into the eyes of his mother, nestling and cooing, as he nurses on her breast. His love for her appearance as he gets older is simply a development of this original, "I look at her, and she looks at me." Therefore, if we are to imitate Christ - it follows with iron logic - that we must find ways to gaze upon Mary's face in this way. Perhaps we do so side-by-side with Him - which explains, surely, why Christians have so greatly loved paintings of the Madonna with child. You may have noticed that, for a toddler or young boy, to think, to be alive, is to say aloud what he is thinking to his mom - spontaneously and naturally. This phenomenon, so endearing to us, would of course only be magnified in a "perfect man" in relation to a "mother most amiable." Therefore - again it follows with iron logic - if we are to imitate Christ well, as spiritual children indeed, we must speak spontaneously to Mary throughout the day, sharing whatever is on our mind. It would be fair to wonder whether we wouldn't imitate Him well enough by doing so towards our own mom, or perhaps one's spouse. And yet "behold, your mother" (John 19:27), and the fact that she is "the mother of God" (Luke 1:43), and therefore of the supernatural life in Christ that we enjoy. These seem to settle the question. Also, it seems that the imitation of Christ in some fundamental matter must, by the nature of the case, be always available to us, and not only when some relative of ours is alive and within earshot. Let us continue, then. As a boy becomes a man, he turns to his mom when he is proud of what he has done, to exult, in a good way. If he were a woodworker, for instance, he would "show off" to his mom the fine things which he built in his shop. Jesus in the movie, The Passion, is believably depicted as doing so with some chairs and a table. Over time, in this way, a young man develops a genuine friendship with his mother. Have you ever wondered why Jesus stayed at home until He was thirty? There was no period of "adolescence" back then. He would have been regarded as a mature man from age thirteen. Mary had an extended family: therefore, even if Joseph had already passed, Jesus might have left her in their care. Despite his burning desire to redeem - "I came to cast fire upon the earth; and would that it were already kindled!" (Luke 12:29) - he stayed with Mary fifteen years longer than was in any sense necessary. Could it be that he loved his friendship with her, so that he lingered as long as he could, rather than leave as soon as he could? I have not yet mentioned Jesus in the womb, takin...…

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Augustine, Patron of the Age 6:07

4 weeks ago6:07