Holy Week: Deicide

"And the people, everyone of them, shouted back, 'Let his blood be on us and on our children!'" (Matthew 27:25)

The verse above is often cited either as proof that Christianity is anti-Semitism or (worse still) as a proof-text for anti-Semitism itself. The Jews killed Christ -- they murdered God!  It doesn't get much worse than deicide.

On the contrary, the Church insists that this verse applies not merely to the members of the crowd, but to all people at all times. We are all responsible for the death of Christ, because He "bore our sins in His body" (1 Peter 2:24) and "takes away the sins of the world" (John 1:29). No Christian can condemn the Jews without condemning himself in the same breath.

But consider this: the blood of Christ is not the blood of Abel. There is no voice of blood "crying out to Me from the ground" (Gen 4:10) for vengeance. If anything, the blood of Christ cries out to God on our behalf. Christ is our Paschal Lamb, who died to free us from death.

Oh blessed fault indeed!  We killed Him that He might make us innocent.

I would humbly suggest that perhaps there is another proper Christian response to Matthew 27:25. "Yes, you're absolutely right. His blood is indeed upon you and all your children. May we have some too?"

Of Gods and Greeks

Have you ever heard this one before?

"Why should I take the Christian God seriously? There are plenty of other gods and religions around, and you don't take them seriously. I don't believe in Yahweh for the same reason you don't believe in Ra or Zeus or Mithras."

This one's a stock argument from the ranks of the so-called "New Atheists." Some might find it convincing. I just find it vexing. It's a common misconception, borne out of a now-unremarkable ignorance of history.

There is no comparison between Jupiter and Jehovah. That's not because the one is true and the other false. It's because there, literally, is no comparison.

Polytheism is not a form of theism at all.

If you're looking for proof, looking at the genealogies of the gods. Zeus, "father of the gods," was the son of Kronos and Rhea. Kronos, "king of the Titans," was the son of Ouranos and Gaia: that is, he was the son of "Father Sky" and "Mother Earth."

The Greek gods exist within nature.  They are, in fact, the naturally-born children of Nature. Nor is this the exception, for this is true of every other mythology with which I am familiar -- Roman, Egyptian, Norse, and to a lesser extent Sumerian and Hindu.

The gods did not transcend Nature, but were part of it. They were not creators, but creatures like us. They were merely more powerful than we were. When the pagans offered them sacrifices, they were not being religious, but political. They sacrificed to the gods for the same reason they sent tribute to powerful neighbors: they didn't want to be crushed to a pulp.

This is the fundamental divide between polytheism and monotheism. Indeed, polytheism is largely silent on what we would consider theological questions. If pressed, pagan mythology is pretty divided on many of these issues. Some of the Greek myths indicate that Gaia (i.e., Nature) was eternally pre-existent, while Hesiod's Theogony states that Gaia and the other protogenoi (i.e., primal gods) were born out of a pre-existent Chaos.

Where the Greek 'theology' might be classified as pantheist or even materialist, Hindu doctrine is henotheistic, or even a kind of monotheistic pluralism. Certain passages of the Hindu Bhagavad Gita speak of Krishna as the avatar (that is, incarnation) of the One God who transcends nature and all creation. It is for this reason that many Hindus worship Krishna as Svayam Bhagavan (the "Lord Himself"). It is for the same reason that Hindu religious practice is typically henotheistic: practitioners focus their worship on a single god as the primary avatar of Svayam Bhagavan. While they may recognize other gods in the pantheon, those other gods are considered as secondary or subsidiary avatars of the One God's true nature.

Let's return to the original point. There is no comparison between Jupiter and Jehovah, nor between monotheism and polytheism generally. The polytheistic gods were not supernatural beings of power; they were natural beings with superpowers. The nearest modern-day relative of the pagan gods would not be the God of Abraham; it would be Clark Kent.

We should speak of the Greek pantheon in the same sense that we speak of the Justice League of America or the Avengers Initiative.

One final note on Hinduism: there may be no comparison between Jupiter and Jehovah, but there does seem to be a direct comparison between Krishna and Christ. At the very least, they both speak of (and claim to speak on behalf of) a single God who exists over and prior to the created order. This was one of the reasons for C.S. Lewis' sweeping claim in Surprised by Joy. Having dispensed with atheism, C.S. Lewis reviewed all of the theistic traditions, and found that he could narrow his choices down to two: Christianity and Hinduism. These two were the only viable faith traditions, for only these traditions were actually theistic.

The Bride of Christ

In my last note, I introduced the quintessentially Catholic image of the Church as God's family. Considering that Israel is a type for the Church, we might treat the Biblical images of the Jews as "the people of God" and Israel as "the nation of God" in the same breath. In the same way, standard Catholic eschatology tends to incline towards amillennialism, so they would also identify the present Church with the immanent "kingdom of God" proclaimed during Jesus' ministry on earth. Each of these titles offers a slightly altered perspective on the nature of the Church, but those variances are too subtle to be done justice here.

There is another set of images that run parallel to those given above: the Church as the Bride of Christ. John the Baptist hinted at it in his final sermon: "He who has the bride is the bridegroom, but the friend of the bridegroom who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly because of the bridegroom's voice. So this joy of mine has been made full" (John 3:29). Later, in responding to the Pharisees, Christ compares His actions to those of a bridegroom (Matthew 9:15) and later analogizes the day of judgment to a marriage feast for the bridegroom (in the parable of the ten virgins, Matthew 25:1-9).

The mystical union -- indeed, the marriage -- of Christ and the Church has its forbears in Jewish literature. "Song of Songs" has long been understood not simply as erotic poetry, of the longing of a lover and His beloved, but also as allegory for God's love of His people. It is for this reason that "Song of Songs" can boast of more commentaries than nearly any other book in the Old Testaments. It was and remains a favorite text of Christian saint, such as the Cistercian abbot St. Bernard of Clairvaux (the 'mellifluous Doctor'), who composed 86 separate sermons on first three chapters "Song of Songs" alone.

The apostle Paul was also prolific in his comparisons between Christ as the bridegroom and the Church as His bride. Paul makes the comparison explicit in Ephesians 5:25-32:

Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself up for her, do that He might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, that He might present to Himself the church in all her glory, having no spot or wrinkle or any such thing; but that she would be holy and blameless. So husbands ought also to love their own wives as their own bodies. He who loves his own wife loves himself; for no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as Christ also does the Church, because we are members of His body. "For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and shall be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh" [Genesis 2:24]. This mystery is great; but I am speaking with reference to Christ and the Church.

It is precisely this imagery, of the Church as the Bride, that is at the heart of Catholic teachings on sexual ethics. After all, marriage is a reenactment writ small of our salvation history, of Christ's mystical union with the body of believers. A number of Christians mystics go further and apply imagery of marriage to the mystical union of the Trinity Itself, of the relation of God to the Son and the Holy Spirit. At the very least, Catholics define marriage as a sacrament, a vessel of God's sanctifying grace, completed through the marital act. Just as Catholics wouldn't dream of using the consecrated hosts of the Eucharist as snack food, so too the Church would teach us not to devalue the 'elements' of marriage: the physical act of sex.

One particular attribute of the Church as Bride deserves mention: its spotlessness. Paul is pretty clear on this score in the passage above, as is St. John the Seer in Revelations 19:7-9:

Let us rejoice and be glad and give glory to Him, for the marriage of the Lamb has come and His bride has made herself ready" It was given to her to clothe herself in fine linen, bright and clean; for the fine linen is the righteousness of the saints. Then he said to me, "Write, 'Bless are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.'" And he said to me, "There are the true words of God."

This particular imagery, of a Divine bridegroom approaching a pure and spotless Bride, stands in pretty stark contrast with the actual conduct of both Jews and Christians throughout salvation history. God Himself commented on this to the prophet Hosea: "Go, take for yourself a wife of harlotry and have children of harlotry; for the land commits flagrant harlotry, forsaking the Lord" (Hosea 1:2). Through the book, God laments the continued unfaithfulness of His people, yet still promises to redeem her: "Go again, love a woman who is loved by her husband, yet an adulteress, even as the Lord loves the sons of Israel, though they turn to other gods..." (Hosea 3:1). Hosea's marriage to the unfaithful Gomer is a sign of God and His people. Yet Christ's marriage to the spotless Bride is a sign of God and His church.

This is the paradox at the heart of Catholic ecclesiology. As Gomer treated her husband, we who live in Christ treat God pretty abysmally. We are often unfaithful. Yet the Church remains spotless, and while we remain in the Church we remain spotless ourselves. This is why Catholics find the Lutheran dictum simul justus et peccator ("both justified and a sinner") incomprehensible. This is the reason for the Catholic dictum extra Ecclesiam nulla salus: "outside of the Church, there is no salvation."

For the Church is more than the Bride of Christ. She is the Body of Christ as well.

Commentary on Scripture: Romans 5

Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have obtained our introduction by faith into this grace in which we stand; and we exult in hope of the glory of God.

Romans 5:1-2 ~~ Justification gives us "peace with God," "grace in which we stand," and "hope of the glory of God." These seem to conform to the theological distinctions of imputed righteousness (right-standing before the seat of judgment), imparted righteousness (ongoing sanctification by grace through works), and divine filiation (participation in Christ's nature and glorification as sons of God).

Romans 5:2-5 ~~ Not only do we exult in hope for glorification, but we also "exult in our tribulations" --that is, our ongoing purification -- "knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance [brings about] proven character; and proven character [brings about] hope; and hope does not disappoint...." Because God has already poured out His love, we can rely on Him in hope of glorification (v. 2).

Romans 5:7 ~~ This verses relies on the distinction between "righteousness" and goodness introduced in Romans 4:4-5. Righteousness arises from faith; goodness is more associated with works ("to one who works, his wage is not credited as a favor, but as what is due." This is why God's love is demonstrated in His grace to sinners, just as our obedience to the law of Moses is better encapsulated in our treatment of enemies than our treatment of neighbors (Matthew 5:44).

Romans 5:8-10 ~~ Romans 5:8 is one of the better known verses in the Pauline epistles. However, look at how Paul applies it. If God loved us so greatly  "while we were still sinners," how much more will He preserve us "having been reconciled" to Him? This passage implicitly contrasts our former status as sinners with our new status as regenerate creatures; that is, as sons of God. As such, it seems to contradict the Lutheran dictum simul justus et peccator: "both justified and a sinner."

Romans 5:10-11 ~~ "...we shall be saved by His life. But not only this, but also exulting in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received the reconciliation." We can rejoice not only in our preservation from death, but also in the promise of our full sonship.

Romans 5:12-19 ~~ Here is an extended section contrasting Adam and Jesus Christ, both as moments in salvation history ("as through the one's man's disobedience the many were made sinners, even so through the obedience of the One the many will be made righteous") and as typologies ("Adam, who is a type of Him who was to come..."). The first Man, Adam, was created in the image and likeness of God. Jesus was eternally begotten of the Father and born of the immaculate Virgin, in the perfect likeness of God and therefore in the true form of Man.

Romans 5:13 ~~ This verse is an important corollary to the Romans 2:12 and 4:15 passages on the connection between human knowledge and divine judgment. "For until the Law sin was in the world, but sin is not imputed when there is no Law." We still suffered its effects of sin under the curse (e.g., "death reigned from Adam until Moses") but prior to the Law we were immune from its imputation as violation of Law.

Romans 5:14 ~~ Death is the natural consequence of sin as separation from God, not necessarily as transgression against the known will of God (i.e., sin "in the likeness of the offense of Adam"). That subordinate clause is particularly notable: "death reigned... ever over those who had not sinned in the likeness of the offense of Adam." This passage could be taken in a number of ways -- for instance, as referring to children prior to the age of accountability -- but the first implication should be clear: not all sins are equal (cf. 1 John 5:16-17).

Romans 5:15 ~~ A typological contrast between Adam's rebellion ("by the transgresison of the one, the many died") and Christ's obedience ("the gift by the grace of the one Man... abound to many"). This is repeated in Romans 5:18-19.

Romans 5:16 ~~ "On the one hand the judgment arose from one transgression resulting in condemnation, but on the other hand the free gift arose from many transgressions resulting in justification."

Romans 5:20-21 ~~ God gave us the Law to increase transgression (purpose implied by the conjunction "so that"). But this increase in transgression corresponds to a parallel abundance in grace. "As sin reigned in death, even so grace would reign through righteousness to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord."

The bulk of Romans 5 is Christological, particularly with reference to the Adamic typology. (That last sentence might be a mouthful, but it was also really fun to say!) The initial verses are a continuation of the Romans 4 passage on justification. Even so, these verses seem to emphasize the hope of glorification over the initial moment of conversion, the realization of justification, or the ongoing work of sanctification (though the hope of glory is framed in the context of tribulation and purification). The latter verses focus much more particularly on the work of Christ in the context of His prefiguration and antithesis, Adam. Paul reserves his fiery denunciation of the antinomian heresy for the beginning of Romans 6, but in these verses he seems quite close to the Augustinian notion of felix culpa. This teaching may be best understood in the words of the Exsultet of the Easter Vigil: "O happy fault, that gained for us so great a Redeemer."

O certe necessárium Adæ peccátum,
quod Christi morte delétum est!
O felix culpa,
quæ talem ac tantum méruit habére Redemptórem!

The Family of God

In my study of Catholicism, I've come to a realization.  Having traced many of the innumerable differences in the schism between Protestants and Catholics, I believe there is one that defines the schism at its core, in its totality. Every other difference are traced to this root.  I believe the difference is this: Protestants emphasize soteriology, and Catholics emphasize ecclesiology.

What do I mean? Soteriology means "the doctrine of salvation." Protestants fixate on the event of salvation, the moment of conversion, when one comes to know Christ Jesus as Savior and Lord. Our faith is personal, our culture individualistic. We typically disdain church authority, because it might interfere with our connection with Christ. We shy away from Mary because we fear the honor we give her might eclipse the glory we ought to give to God. We do not call upon the saints because we have Jesus as our one mediator before God.

The Catholic response, in contrast, is much less atomistic. I do not mean less individualistic, for individualism (as with most of Western culture) is drawn from Catholic tradition. But while Catholicism does emphasize the dignity and worth of the individual, this is only the foundation, when Catholics would prefer to admire the cathedral built on top of it.

Ecclesiology means "the doctrine of the Church." It is in the Church that the Catholic lives and breaths. Catholics focus on the experience of salvation, the context of conversion, when one comes to live with Christ Jesus as Father and Redeemer. The faith and the culture are not tied up in an individual's relation to God, but in the relation of God to His family, and thereby to each member of the family.

Throughout the New Testament, Christ is referred to as "the firstborn" (Heb. 1:6), "the firstborn of the dead" (Rev. 1:5), "the firstborn of all creation" (Colossians 1:15), and perhaps most significantly "the firstborn among many brethren" (Romans 8:29). This is one of the titles of the Christ, hearkening at a deep-seated reality: that, as a result of the Cross and the Resurrection, we have been joined to Christ and can call ourselves true sons of God. In Galatians 3:26-29, Paul tells us that "you are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourself with Christ.... And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham's descendants, heirs according to the promise."

This doctrine is one of the essential truths of the faith, retained by Catholics though in my experience forgotten by many Protestants. Salvation is bigger than forgiveness: it is our familial relation to God. We do not address God as "Our Father" simply because He's humble enough to listen. It's a statement of fact, a new reality that by the power of Christ He really is our Father. He descended, to raise us with Him.

Over the next few notes, I'll be exploring a few other Catholic images for the Church. However, this doctrine of divine filiation, and this understanding of the Family of God, is foundational to all the others, and indeed is one of the cornerstones of Catholic teaching.

Of Angels and Pins

I am something of an amateur medievalist. I love talking about the theology, cosmology, saints and scholars. I relish the culture, the politics, the architecture, and the history.

But sometimes its hard to get people to take the Middle Ages seriously. "What, you want to revive the Inquisition? They persecuted Galileo, and halted the advance of science for hundreds of years! They thought the Earth was flat, for heaven's sake!" And so I despair.

If anything, look at the time-line. The Middle Ages are conventionally dated between 476 and 1453, between the abdication of the last Roman emperor and the fall of Constantinople. The Spanish Inquisition was founded in 1480 and would only be abolished in 1820. Likewise, the trial of Galileo was held in 1633, nearly two hundred years after the Middle Ages were over. Moreover, the sphericity of the Earth was never seriously challenged during the Middle Ages, having been firmly established by the time of Ptolemy's Almagest, circa 150 AD.

Yet even beyond this sort of historical non sequitur (so often compounded by grotesque misconstruals of the events in question), the Middle Ages are subject to still lower forms of "chronological snobbery." The worst seems to me the wholesale mischaracterization of the medieval mind. People seem to fancy them as superstitious folk, woefully ignorant of the natural sciences and obsessed with esoteric minutiae. In reality, the Middle Ages could boast of the sharpest minds we can imagine, people whose mental acuity would outpace any but the elite corps of Mensa.

Besides, let's be frank, we're hardly the ones to talk about rampant ignorance. We don't just live in glass houses; we also work in glass offices and study in glass schools.

One particular example is commonly given as though it were sufficient proof of medieval ignorance: "how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" Let us dismantle this once and for all.

First, it is by no means certain that this question actually originated during the Middle Ages. Its earliest appearance comes from 17th century manuscripts by authors who wrote specifically to attack Catholicism and the medieval period. These are hardly reputable sources, and it's entirely possible the whole thing was a fabrication.

Even if it were authentic, however, these authors evidently failed to realize how ingenious the question actually is. A medieval philosopher would probably reason thus: "How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" Scripture mentions that angels can be located in the physical world. Gabriel stood "there" when he appeared to Mary, as did Michael to Daniel and any other angels who might appear to a prophet. Yet angels are by definition incorporeal. They are not made of matter like us, but can only be seen as pure spirit. How could something without a physical body be physically present?  Ah, the medieval philosopher exclaims, it's a confusion of categories. Without mass, an angel cannot occupy physical space, but that doesn't prevent them from moving within and between such spaces. Therefore, an angel might be "located" on the head of a pin, without necessarily being "located" in the sense of occupying space there. Thus, an theoretically infinite number of angels could fit on the head of a pin.

If the question were authentically medieval, it could have been dispatched by anyone with even the simplest of training in the scholastic method. In all likelihood, it was questions like these that were used as 'practice problems' for students being trained in dialectic, the second of the medieval trivium. Yet we deride medieval ignorance for a question like this, even though we dare not admit it would be unanswerable to the great majority of people nowadays.

Imagine if a future generation, some hundreds of years in the future, were to unearth one of those time capsules buried by elementary school children. Now imagine those materials -- monochromatic finger-paintings, arithmetic problems, and scrawled letters -- were the basis for popular knowledge about our era of history. This was a scientific age, the specialists will cry, an age where great minds plumbed the depths of subatomic space! And the masses will laugh at us because we didn't know algebra.

Book Review: "Ordinary Work, Extraordinary Grace"

Scott Hahn is best known a former Presbyterian minister who converted to the Catholic Church. One of the major influences in his transition-conversion was the Catholic organization Opus Dei.  Founded in 1928 by St. Josemaria Escrivá and approved in 1950 by Pope Pius XII, the organization was made a personal prelature of Pope John Paul II in 1982 -- a meteoric rise that fueled speculation that Opus Dei had masterfully manipulated papal court politics. This notoriety was reinforced and publicized by the grotesque caricature of Opus Dei that appeared in the 2005 bestseller, "The Da Vinci Code."

For those seeking sensationalist details about the private lives of albino monks, this book is not the place to find them. On the other hand, for those seeking factual sensationalist details, I doubt you'll find them anywhere. Scott Hahn begins by depicting his initial encounter with members of the organization , but swiftly moves to present the doctrinal underpinnings of Opus Dei (a Latin phrase, meaning "The Work of God").

Opus Dei is a global organization (the term "personal prelature" simply means that Opus Dei isn't bound to a single geographic region) with a rather simple mission: to sanctify ordinary life. While there are numeraries who live in special centers, assisted by secular priests and non-clerical assistants, the vast majority of Opus Dei members are supernumeraries, Catholic laity with families and careers outside the organization.


The theology of Opus Dei is the theology of the Catholic Church, rooted in the foundational doctrine of divine filiation: that by the grace of God, we can take part in the life of Christ and can call ourselves truly sons and daughters of God. Hahn spends some chapters discussing this very idea, and tracing its implications throughout the ordinary life of Opus Dei members.

While this brief book isn't neither as explicitly theological nor as explicitly biographical as some of Hahn's other writings, I found some of the insights to be particularly valuable. I was inspired by reading how Opus Dei sought to apply the Christian call to sanctity to their ordinary lives and careers, and found myself remarking at the parallels with Protestant organizations seeking the same active walk of faith.


If you'd like to purchase this book, check it out at Amazon.com:
Ordinary Work, Extraordinary Grace: My Spiritual Journey in Opus Dei