Tradition played a big part in the Catholic Church's initial attraction to me. Being interested in history, I immediately saw its roots and its presence way back at the close of the Roman Empire. I remember reading in one of my many European history books that the structure of the Church that manifested itself in the West after the fall of Rome was instrumental in saving Western European civilization (in that it provided a structure for the disparate people's to fall back on in the presence of a political vacuum). Tradition (small t) provided an attraction, while authority provided a reason.
PART II: AUTHORITY
The Quest
As a teenager, one figure fascinated me: Pope John Paul II. I cannot state clearly enough how un-Catholic I was. I grew United Methodist, with a smattering of Evangelicalism and Christian Reformed thrown in for good measure. I knew nothing of Catholic ecclesial structure, and my medieval history in 6th grade completely ignored the office of bishop. The only understanding I had of a bishop was that my UMC region had a bishop...but it also had a superintendent as well, and I could never really tell the two apart. I was a member of our church's Pastor-Parish Relations Committee, which meant I was (if necessary) part of the group that would be privy to selecting a new pastor. I understood a congregational model as well as a heirarchical model of pastorship, in that in the UMC, the bishop (or was it superintendent?) would give us a choice of three or four candidates, and we would try them out and choose the one we liked best. If we didn't like any, the bishop (or superintendent) would choose for us.
With that in mind, my fascination with Bl. John Paul II can be explained in light of authority. His Holiness had a reputation for holiness and intelligence. He was also a lightning rod for publicity because of his personality. These were not what I focused on. To me, a Methodist youngster with no understanding of Petrine supremacy, or Apostolic Succession, the Pope (and intrinsically, I understood that JPII would pass away, and another man would take his place..it was the office I was drawn to, because of the person occupying it at the time) was THE spokesperson for all of Christianity. I grew up with experiences like a Clyde Dupin Crusade, and nearly weekly doses of Billy Graham. However, these gentlemen were national phenomenon; the Pope was Universal. No other Christian leader drew as much attention as the Pope. No other Christian leader drew crowds like the Pope. Intrinsically, I understood that if one wanted to discuss Christianity, THE person to go to would be the Pope.
Until college, the person of the Pope was simply a figure, a spokesperson, a trigger-man, so to speak. The issue of authority wasn't a big one. I was raised within the ethos of solo scriptura, but even within that ethos, the authority of a pastor to tell us what the Word of God was saying was paramount (after all, they had the years of theology and Scripture study...we did not). I understood that different people would invariably come to different understandings of Scripture, and I accepted that "the main things are the plain things and the plain things are the main things". It was within this mindset that my interest in authority grew.
The question on authentic and True interpretation of Scripture was front and center in my interest in authority. Quite quickly, I determined that for all its benefits, solo Scriptura was woefully inadequate. This was due in large part to the discrepancy between what Scripture clearly taught in terms of divorce and how mainstream churches were interpreting that. Essentially, I had read what Christ had to say about marriage and divorce: "what God has joined, let not man put assunder", and yet looked on with astonishment as not only the UMC, but other denominations not once taught the indissolubility of marriage, but also encouraged divorced couples to remarry, in clear violation of Scripture's definition such actions as adultery. Something was clearly amiss. Although not entirely sure of the process, I knew that in the UMC, doctrinal matters were voted on, ultimately, by members of the clergy and the laity. Something was wrong there (to whit, Christ never let His Gospel be open to interpretation or the democratic process, and there was a reason He referred to Heaven as the Kingdom of Heaven, and we all know that kingdoms are democratic).
Perhaps naively, I wanted some one to step in and declare, once and for all, what True Doctrine really was. I looked at the Pope and wondered why we as Methodists didn't have an authority figure like that. It seemed logical to me that we couldn't trust congregations, or an group of congregations to vote on what Scripture was teaching.
The Answer
The issue of authority was, finally, put to rest for me in a round-about way: while attending Mass with my girlfriend (now my wife), the priest's homily made mention of John 6: "Unless you eat of my Flesh and drink of my Blood, you shall not have life within you." As a Protestant, this was offensive. I was always taught that you didn't have to DO anything to be saved (with the exception of "accepting Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior"), and yet here I was being told that I needed to do something. I bristled at this for a while, a long while. I couldn't get over, however, how PLAIN John 6 really was. I tried the typical Protestant reaction to redact what Christ said in most of John 6 with what he says in the end: "It is the Spirit that gives life, and the flesh is of no avail...my words are spirit and life." Logically, however, I couldn't get past the fact that Christ Himself never redacted His statement.
One evening while in college, the local Catholic priest offered a question and answer session for those seeking the Catholic Church. My wife/girlfriend encouraged us to attend, so I could ask my question. My question was asked, and answered, but in all honestly, I walked away with something else: a sense of where authority lies. You see, another participant asked about Apostolic Succession, of which I had never heard. The concept, when explained, made perfect sense. To reject it, I thought, was to reject Reason.
The Apostles, whom all Christians acknowledge received their authority from Christ Himself, wouldn't live forever. It seems rather daft to assume that they would allow their flocks to sway in the breeze without some visible authority figure. Ordaining certain men to follow after them, with their authority, is a sure fire way of ensuring that Christians maintain the Gospel, in the absence of Scripture. It also helps establish what Scripture really means.
As I read the Acts of the Apostles, (as the priest suggested), it became clear that Christ gave ONLY the Apostles His authority. Only Peter raised someone from the dead, only Peter healed people, and only the apostles could send out demons. I then read, as the priest suggested, the Epistles to Timothy and Titus. It became increasingly clear that Paul wrote to those two men as an older brother, not as a father. He considered them his equals in authority. Not only that, but he mandates, at least to Timothy, that the authority they received be passed to worthy and upright men.
Clearly, Christ established a Church with authority, authority that passed down from generation to generation. I knew enough about the Reformation to realize that all Christian denominations broke from the Catholic Church. I knew enough about Medieval history to realize that prior to the Schism between the East and West, there was One, Holy, Catholic, Orthodox, and Apostolic Church. I recognized that it was the Catholic Church which existed before the Schism, and before the Reformation. It was the Catholic Church that existed before the fall of Rome.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Sunday, January 8, 2012
On Brees and Marino, again.
I was reading some football fan's blog post on why NFL teams don't pass more when passing has a higher effectiveness rate that rushing. They mentioned that in 1978, the NFL enacted some rules changes that increased passing effectiveness. From 1979-1984, when Marino set the old record, passing yards and attempts increased steadily. Marino's record in 1984 was over 1000 yards what the record was in 1978. But it didn't just happen overnight. Dan Fouts threw for 4000, 4700, and 4800 yards, thus pushing the record up. When Marino broke it, he was only about 200 yards from the previous record, and 500 off the 4 year average (not counting 1982's short season). Brees was 400 yards off the previous record and 700 off the 4 year average.
That, however, is not the point of the post. Look at the graph below: it shows the year-to-year passing leaders for the combined NFL from 1973 to 2011. Note the incredible difference in totals BEFORE the rules change in 1978 and after (that dip is the 1982 strike season of only 8 games). Nearly 2000 yards in three years. Note, however, that the leaders' totals have remained somewhat constant for the next twenty years.
Marino's record is largely the result of changing passing rules, as is evident in the success passers had since the rules changes in 1978. The results of those rules changes happened overnight. The same cannot be said of Drew Brees' stellar effort. If the rules changes were so important to his record, you'd think that there would be a burst of records set immediately following the rules changes, which didn't just happen this year; this would mimic the events of 1979. That didn't happen.
So what did? For one, the lockout eliminated training camp, which cut down time for defensive units to mesh. This is evident in the fact that about 7 QBs were on pace to shatter, obliterate, and destroy Marino's, and Brady's passing records by week 3. That evened out as defensive units started their meshing.
In essence, the lockout was an equalizer. In 1984, its hard to think that defensive units had figured out how to stop pass-happy teams like the Chargers and Dolphins when most of the teams still relied on the run. The defense was thus at a large disadvantage. In 2011, sure there were rule changes, but those changes were mitigated by the fact that defensive units have been seeing pass-happy teams for nearly 20 years. Teams have placed high-priority on top-notch corner backs to counter the threat of the passing attack, and pass-rushing linemen and linebacker/linemen hybrids are more and more common.
Thus, it appears to me that Drew Brees effort is at least equal to Marino's.
That, however, is not the point of the post. Look at the graph below: it shows the year-to-year passing leaders for the combined NFL from 1973 to 2011. Note the incredible difference in totals BEFORE the rules change in 1978 and after (that dip is the 1982 strike season of only 8 games). Nearly 2000 yards in three years. Note, however, that the leaders' totals have remained somewhat constant for the next twenty years.
Marino's record is largely the result of changing passing rules, as is evident in the success passers had since the rules changes in 1978. The results of those rules changes happened overnight. The same cannot be said of Drew Brees' stellar effort. If the rules changes were so important to his record, you'd think that there would be a burst of records set immediately following the rules changes, which didn't just happen this year; this would mimic the events of 1979. That didn't happen.
So what did? For one, the lockout eliminated training camp, which cut down time for defensive units to mesh. This is evident in the fact that about 7 QBs were on pace to shatter, obliterate, and destroy Marino's, and Brady's passing records by week 3. That evened out as defensive units started their meshing.
In essence, the lockout was an equalizer. In 1984, its hard to think that defensive units had figured out how to stop pass-happy teams like the Chargers and Dolphins when most of the teams still relied on the run. The defense was thus at a large disadvantage. In 2011, sure there were rule changes, but those changes were mitigated by the fact that defensive units have been seeing pass-happy teams for nearly 20 years. Teams have placed high-priority on top-notch corner backs to counter the threat of the passing attack, and pass-rushing linemen and linebacker/linemen hybrids are more and more common.
Thus, it appears to me that Drew Brees effort is at least equal to Marino's.
Drew Brees, Dan Marino, and Records
Last Monday night, Drew Brees surpassed Dan Marino's single-season passing yards record that stood for 27 years. I wasn't going to say anything about it, I mean, Brees has always been a great QB, and it truly is a remarkable feat. However, I've heard WAAAYYYY too many people say that Brees' record is essentially meaningless as a result of changes in rules that have allowed passing offenses more room.
I'll be honest. I really don't want to agree with such naysaying. Brees' accomplishment is astounding, and the fact that he came close a couple of years ago is further testament to his abilities as a quarterback. Yet, one can't deny that the rules have changed things. To be honest, today's game is much, much different than it was in 1984. In trying to respond to posters on a news piece concerning Brees (the posters said his record was meaningless due to new rules changes) I wanted to argue that in 1984, offenses were more run centric than they were now. In fact, I hypothesized that NFL defenses today are more likely geared for the pass that they were in 1984 since coordinators have had at least a decade of pass-centered offenses. I didn't however want to make this claim without actually looking at the data. I found some stuff at Pro-Football-Reference.com. What I found was actually quite eye-opening, but it proved my hypothesis...sort of.
I wanted to see what the 10 years prior to each record setting year looked like in terms of run vs. pass. My thought was quite simple: if defenses see a majority of passing, they'll be much better accustomed to to defending it. I was right, sort of. On average, from 1974-1983, teams passed about 45% of the time, per game. On average, from 2001-2010, teams passed about 55% of the time. However, I noticed that passing attempts/game increased starting in 1979. From 1979-1983, the pass/run ration was essentially 50/50 (which actually brought the pass/run ratio of the entire decade down to 44/56...it would have been something like 40/60).
Seeing the rise in passing, I hypothesized that perhaps Marino's record could have been influenced by defensive coordinators still not catching up the passing phenomenon. I decided to look at the top passer (because Marino was the top passer that year) to see how they fared in that time frame. I noticed that between 1969 and 1979, only Joe Namath passed for over 4,000 yards (once) and only twice did a passer pass for over 3,500 yards. Then the floodgates opened. From 1979-1984 (actually, to 2011), the only time the leading passer hasn't thrown for 4,000 yards has been during strike-shortened seasons (to be even more precise, Dan Fouts was on pace in the strike shortened season of 1982 to pace for over 5,300 yards). Fouts set the record for yards in a season twice three times in that time period, jumping from 4,020 to over 4,700 in a single season. Such a trend could easily see the 5,000 yard mark as reachable in 1984, and if Marino didn't do it, it could have been Fouts.
Looking at that, it dawned on me that it had only been 5 years since changing the rules prompted more passing, and it generally takes defensive minds a couple of years to adjust. In short, by 1984, extensive passing was still new, and not the beast we see today. Teams that passed a majority of the time weren't the norm. In 1984, 13 of the 28 teams passed more that 50% of the time, and only 2 (the Eagles and Bills) passed at least 60% of the time, while the league average was 51%. Knock out the Bills and Eagles (61% and 60% respectively, and the Chargers (59%) and the league average is 49%. My point is, a defensive coordinator is going to be preparing for an equal dose of run versus pass. Thus, when a team throws 60% of the time against defensive schemes designed to stop the run, large numbers are bound to be put up. Add in quaterbacks of Marino's skills, and you've got a recipe for a record breaking year.
Fast forward to today. Since 1984, there has only been two seasons in which the leading quarterback hasn't thrown for more than 4,000 yards, the shortened season of 1987 (in which there were only 15 games) and 1997. In the decade prior to 2011, only three times has the leading passer thrown for less than 4500 yards. Between 1984 and 2001, the leader passer threw for MORE than 4500 yards 4 times. In 2011, only 5 teams passed 50% or less of the time while, 6 passed over 60% of the time. If you take out the top three passing teams (with percentages of 65, 63, and 61), you still get 55%. What this tells me is that defenses are more accustomed to passing offenses.
From 2001-2011, the average yards the leading passer has thrown for is 4754. Drew Brees' record is 700 yards over the average for the last decade. From 1979-1983 (not counting 1982's shortened season) the average was 4514 yards. Marino's record in about 500 yards over the average. Thus, from a statistical point of view, one could argue that Brees' record is more significant than Marino's.
I'll be honest. I really don't want to agree with such naysaying. Brees' accomplishment is astounding, and the fact that he came close a couple of years ago is further testament to his abilities as a quarterback. Yet, one can't deny that the rules have changed things. To be honest, today's game is much, much different than it was in 1984. In trying to respond to posters on a news piece concerning Brees (the posters said his record was meaningless due to new rules changes) I wanted to argue that in 1984, offenses were more run centric than they were now. In fact, I hypothesized that NFL defenses today are more likely geared for the pass that they were in 1984 since coordinators have had at least a decade of pass-centered offenses. I didn't however want to make this claim without actually looking at the data. I found some stuff at Pro-Football-Reference.com. What I found was actually quite eye-opening, but it proved my hypothesis...sort of.
I wanted to see what the 10 years prior to each record setting year looked like in terms of run vs. pass. My thought was quite simple: if defenses see a majority of passing, they'll be much better accustomed to to defending it. I was right, sort of. On average, from 1974-1983, teams passed about 45% of the time, per game. On average, from 2001-2010, teams passed about 55% of the time. However, I noticed that passing attempts/game increased starting in 1979. From 1979-1983, the pass/run ration was essentially 50/50 (which actually brought the pass/run ratio of the entire decade down to 44/56...it would have been something like 40/60).
Seeing the rise in passing, I hypothesized that perhaps Marino's record could have been influenced by defensive coordinators still not catching up the passing phenomenon. I decided to look at the top passer (because Marino was the top passer that year) to see how they fared in that time frame. I noticed that between 1969 and 1979, only Joe Namath passed for over 4,000 yards (once) and only twice did a passer pass for over 3,500 yards. Then the floodgates opened. From 1979-1984 (actually, to 2011), the only time the leading passer hasn't thrown for 4,000 yards has been during strike-shortened seasons (to be even more precise, Dan Fouts was on pace in the strike shortened season of 1982 to pace for over 5,300 yards). Fouts set the record for yards in a season twice three times in that time period, jumping from 4,020 to over 4,700 in a single season. Such a trend could easily see the 5,000 yard mark as reachable in 1984, and if Marino didn't do it, it could have been Fouts.
Looking at that, it dawned on me that it had only been 5 years since changing the rules prompted more passing, and it generally takes defensive minds a couple of years to adjust. In short, by 1984, extensive passing was still new, and not the beast we see today. Teams that passed a majority of the time weren't the norm. In 1984, 13 of the 28 teams passed more that 50% of the time, and only 2 (the Eagles and Bills) passed at least 60% of the time, while the league average was 51%. Knock out the Bills and Eagles (61% and 60% respectively, and the Chargers (59%) and the league average is 49%. My point is, a defensive coordinator is going to be preparing for an equal dose of run versus pass. Thus, when a team throws 60% of the time against defensive schemes designed to stop the run, large numbers are bound to be put up. Add in quaterbacks of Marino's skills, and you've got a recipe for a record breaking year.
Fast forward to today. Since 1984, there has only been two seasons in which the leading quarterback hasn't thrown for more than 4,000 yards, the shortened season of 1987 (in which there were only 15 games) and 1997. In the decade prior to 2011, only three times has the leading passer thrown for less than 4500 yards. Between 1984 and 2001, the leader passer threw for MORE than 4500 yards 4 times. In 2011, only 5 teams passed 50% or less of the time while, 6 passed over 60% of the time. If you take out the top three passing teams (with percentages of 65, 63, and 61), you still get 55%. What this tells me is that defenses are more accustomed to passing offenses.
From 2001-2011, the average yards the leading passer has thrown for is 4754. Drew Brees' record is 700 yards over the average for the last decade. From 1979-1983 (not counting 1982's shortened season) the average was 4514 yards. Marino's record in about 500 yards over the average. Thus, from a statistical point of view, one could argue that Brees' record is more significant than Marino's.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Bram Stoker's Dracula, Reflections
A little back background, here.
I was reading a post (I think it was on the National Catholic Register) that mentioned that the latest Twilight flick (to call it a film is stretching it) was somewhat pro-life. One of the commenters on that article said she could never romanticize vampires after reading Bram Stoker's Dracula. Having never read it, I decided to see if I could find it on-line...I did at Literature.org. So I started it Sunday and finished it this morning.
I went through four years of honors level classes in high school and four years of college and never read Dracula. What a shame. I loved it. I loved it because it made me think. It is profoundly theological in its treatment of good and evil. It is profoundly social in it treatment of women. I can see why, unfortunately, it is not recommended fair for youngsters today.
I have a great many thoughts on the book, but this entry will focus on the character of the Vampire. There are six vampires that make an appearance is the text. All, save one, Dracula, have a similar characteristic: as they satiate their blood-lust, they become more and more beautiful. Stoker describes Lucy, who as she was dying, lost her beauty, but it seemed to regain itself after her death...only to be more pronounced when the vampire-Lucy was feeding on flesh: her lips become "voluptuous". Stoker describes the three female vampires that Jonathan Harker meets in the Castle Dracula as stunningly beautiful. None of these characters, however, can be romanticized: they exist to prey on the living, to feast on their blood, to kill them. They (well, at least Lucy does) entice young, innocent children into their confidence, and then prey on them. All of these female vampires had a more sensual, lusty beauty about them, as if to entice men into their snares. This is exactly what almost happened to Professor Van Helsing in the chapel of Castle Dracula: he was ensnared by the feminine beauty of the vampires, thinking that instead of destroying them, he should be protecting them. Had he delayed much longer, they would have been awoken by the sunset, and would have overpowered him.
While Dracula is not, shall we say, attractive, he is cunning, and like all evil, selfish and self-centered. This, I think, is the hallmark of evil. Consider the thought that Professor Van Helsing must put into Arthur before the confrontation with vampire-Lucy. In order to free Lucy, to allow her soul to fly into Heaven, Arthur must risk something. The thought is a self-less thought. Indeed, this is what makes the main, good characters good: their mission is to destroy Dracula in order to save Mina, but also to save others from falling into the same end. Theirs is a mission of self-sacrifice: they know that their fight risks death. Dracula's is a mission of self-indulgence: he knows that he will exist with or without his feasting on the blood of mortals, but he does so to keep him strong and powerful.
Reflecting on this then, we are shown the personification of evil in the characters of the vampires, Dracula first and foremost among them.
I was reading a post (I think it was on the National Catholic Register) that mentioned that the latest Twilight flick (to call it a film is stretching it) was somewhat pro-life. One of the commenters on that article said she could never romanticize vampires after reading Bram Stoker's Dracula. Having never read it, I decided to see if I could find it on-line...I did at Literature.org. So I started it Sunday and finished it this morning.
I went through four years of honors level classes in high school and four years of college and never read Dracula. What a shame. I loved it. I loved it because it made me think. It is profoundly theological in its treatment of good and evil. It is profoundly social in it treatment of women. I can see why, unfortunately, it is not recommended fair for youngsters today.
I have a great many thoughts on the book, but this entry will focus on the character of the Vampire. There are six vampires that make an appearance is the text. All, save one, Dracula, have a similar characteristic: as they satiate their blood-lust, they become more and more beautiful. Stoker describes Lucy, who as she was dying, lost her beauty, but it seemed to regain itself after her death...only to be more pronounced when the vampire-Lucy was feeding on flesh: her lips become "voluptuous". Stoker describes the three female vampires that Jonathan Harker meets in the Castle Dracula as stunningly beautiful. None of these characters, however, can be romanticized: they exist to prey on the living, to feast on their blood, to kill them. They (well, at least Lucy does) entice young, innocent children into their confidence, and then prey on them. All of these female vampires had a more sensual, lusty beauty about them, as if to entice men into their snares. This is exactly what almost happened to Professor Van Helsing in the chapel of Castle Dracula: he was ensnared by the feminine beauty of the vampires, thinking that instead of destroying them, he should be protecting them. Had he delayed much longer, they would have been awoken by the sunset, and would have overpowered him.
While Dracula is not, shall we say, attractive, he is cunning, and like all evil, selfish and self-centered. This, I think, is the hallmark of evil. Consider the thought that Professor Van Helsing must put into Arthur before the confrontation with vampire-Lucy. In order to free Lucy, to allow her soul to fly into Heaven, Arthur must risk something. The thought is a self-less thought. Indeed, this is what makes the main, good characters good: their mission is to destroy Dracula in order to save Mina, but also to save others from falling into the same end. Theirs is a mission of self-sacrifice: they know that their fight risks death. Dracula's is a mission of self-indulgence: he knows that he will exist with or without his feasting on the blood of mortals, but he does so to keep him strong and powerful.
Reflecting on this then, we are shown the personification of evil in the characters of the vampires, Dracula first and foremost among them.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Why I am Catholic, Part I
Becoming Catholic is not like switching from Methodist to Christian Reformed. Despite percieved differences between Protestant groups, essentially, they all have the same underlying premise: it is the individual interpretation of Scripture that reigns supreme. When one finds that their interpretation is different from the group they frequent, they change groups, and generally, questions are not raised. The phrase "whatever floats your boat" comes to mind. More precisely, a quote from my mother is apt in expressing the Protestant mentality: "I'm glad you believe that so strongly, but that's not what I believe." That attitude doesn't fly when one becomes Catholic from another Christian group. For this reason, I'm embarking on a quest to explain my journey.
PART I: TRADITION
The human being is one of the only animals that is connected by a common, shared history. By that I mean that different groups of people are united in means apart from blood and necessity: they can communicate a shared history. For example, certain towns have traditions that connect the current residents with residents almost 100 years ago or more. Such traditions create a sense of community and solidarity with people long gone. Traditions could be such things as planned events (like county fairs), language (like certain words), or even architecture (common themes in certain buildings). One such example is the Passion Plays of Oberammergau, Germany (which were started during the 1350s, and still continue today). Tradition plays a huge role in our understanding of ourselves and our worldview. Tradition isn't just preserved in writings, it is preserved in actions, in buildings, in stories we tell our children, and in lessons we teach our children. When we break with our traditions, we lose not only our understanding of who and what we are, but we lose a bit of our identity in the process.
My parents would probably be shocked to know that my journey to the Catholic Church started in my confirmation class when I was in 8th grade. I've always loved history, and by that time, I was well aware that Christianity had existed for nearly 2000 years. We were taught the basics of the Methodist faith, that the two Wesley brothers and George Whitefield in the 1700s, and their focus was on a personal experience with Jesus. One thing caught my attention: Wesley and Whitefield were essentially breaking from an established tradition (the Anglican tradition). Of course, as a child of 14, this made sense, because the Anglican tradition wasn't exactly on fire with the Lord...at least not that I was aware of in my studies.
As I began to learn about the Reformation, it became apparent that there existed a tradition that was far older than any I was familiar with (Lutheran, Reformed, Methodist, Baptist, Episcopalian, etc). In addition to that, one of my best friends in 8th grade was Orthodox (perhaps, more specifically, Coptic, seeing as his family was from Egypt), which I knew went back before the Middle Ages. Of course, I reasoned that this tradition must have been sick for new ones to form, but the complete abandonment of an ancient tradition (especially one that gave us such works of art as the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris, or the Sistene Chapel ceiling) didn't sit well with me.
My historical fascination has always been Europe from the fall of Rome to the onset of the Enlightenment. Because of that, I was forced to recognize the beauty that eminated from the Catholic tradition: the exquisite architecture of the great Cathedrals, the music of Monteverdi, Beethoven, Mozart, and Palestrina, the paintings of Leonardo da Vinci and all the art of Michelangelo. These great masterpieces didn't simply emerge out of nowhere. Michelangelo and da Vinci had visible signs of a tradition of beauty present in the great Cathedrals of Europe. There was also the intellectual tradition that eminated from the Church: Augustine, Anselm, Aquinas, and Abelard all drew from the same wellspring. There were great moral figures that one could not ignore: Catherine of Sienna, Francis of Assisi and St. Benedict, whose lives helped shaped the fabric of all of Europe.
As my factual knowledge of European history grew, I could not deny that the Catholic Church existed before the Roman Empire fell. I could not deny that the sense of tradition that Augustine had for his forefathers in faith was the same that Aquinas had, because he used the same forefathers. I sensed an unbroken tradition that guided and shaped the course of Europe.
What struck me, in particular, was the tenacity with which the Church maintained that tradition. Sure, with all traditions, things gradually change over time, but with the Church it was different. Additional pious practices weren't simply added because they looked cool, or fit with some popular theology (to be fair, often popular practices emerged that could be considered dubious, but approved pious practices weren't added willy-nilly). Tradition was always a guide. To me, the Church, by insisting on using tradition as a guide, existed Universally: it would be the essentially the same in 500AD as it would in 1500AD, uniting all peoples, past, present, and future into One Faith.
The true breaking point, at least on the issue of tradition, was an essay I was writing for my Sophomore History class whilst in college. My professor posed the question: "Should there be a single interpreter for Scripture?" I struggled to answer that question. Initially, my response was a strong and resounding "NO!!" To stay on point, I will steer clear of my rationale, and illuminate ONE reason why I could not, in good conscience, turn that paper in (after all, at the end of my first draft, I found myself believing the affirmative, while answering in the negative): Tradition, with a capital T.
Up to this point, I have talked about tradition with a t, not Tradition with a T. I will summarize the difference: Tradition is that entire body of faith (doctrine and dogma) passed down from Christ to the Apostles, and through the Apostles and their successors, the rest of the world; tradition refers to the practices and belief structures (discipline) that have been maintained. Essentially, Tradition is the basis of tradition, and for this reason tradition is not easily thrown aside.
At some point in my attempt to answer the posed question in the negative, it dawned on me that the Catholic Church possessed an on-going understanding of Scripture, dating from before the time of Augustine (OK, confession time: at this point in my life, I was not ready to admit that the Catholic Church existed at the time of Pentacost...in fact, I had never really given it much thought. To me, Christian tradition essentially began with Augustine, essentially because he was the most well known Christian Father in my circle of acquaintances and family, so to say that there was a tradition dating from the time of Augustine is REALLY big). Above, I mentioned that to lose sight of tradition, to break with tradition is to lose sight of who we really are. As I struggled to vehemently oppose some tyrannical oppression of free-thought by wrong-headed Catholic Church, the importance of tradition (and by extension, Tradition) overwhelmed me. The Catholic Church possessed an ancient Tradition that brought with it wisdom and knowledge that individuals, on their own, lack. I knew that the great Christian thinkers I admired during this period, Augustine, Anselm, and Aquinas were part of the Catholic hierarchy (Augustine and Anselm were bishops, whilst Aquinas was a priest), an thus part of that Tradition.
At the end of this particular academic exercise, the essential groundwork for my acceptance of Christ's Church had been laid. Truly the Holy Spirit works in amazing ways.
PART I: TRADITION
The human being is one of the only animals that is connected by a common, shared history. By that I mean that different groups of people are united in means apart from blood and necessity: they can communicate a shared history. For example, certain towns have traditions that connect the current residents with residents almost 100 years ago or more. Such traditions create a sense of community and solidarity with people long gone. Traditions could be such things as planned events (like county fairs), language (like certain words), or even architecture (common themes in certain buildings). One such example is the Passion Plays of Oberammergau, Germany (which were started during the 1350s, and still continue today). Tradition plays a huge role in our understanding of ourselves and our worldview. Tradition isn't just preserved in writings, it is preserved in actions, in buildings, in stories we tell our children, and in lessons we teach our children. When we break with our traditions, we lose not only our understanding of who and what we are, but we lose a bit of our identity in the process.
My parents would probably be shocked to know that my journey to the Catholic Church started in my confirmation class when I was in 8th grade. I've always loved history, and by that time, I was well aware that Christianity had existed for nearly 2000 years. We were taught the basics of the Methodist faith, that the two Wesley brothers and George Whitefield in the 1700s, and their focus was on a personal experience with Jesus. One thing caught my attention: Wesley and Whitefield were essentially breaking from an established tradition (the Anglican tradition). Of course, as a child of 14, this made sense, because the Anglican tradition wasn't exactly on fire with the Lord...at least not that I was aware of in my studies.
As I began to learn about the Reformation, it became apparent that there existed a tradition that was far older than any I was familiar with (Lutheran, Reformed, Methodist, Baptist, Episcopalian, etc). In addition to that, one of my best friends in 8th grade was Orthodox (perhaps, more specifically, Coptic, seeing as his family was from Egypt), which I knew went back before the Middle Ages. Of course, I reasoned that this tradition must have been sick for new ones to form, but the complete abandonment of an ancient tradition (especially one that gave us such works of art as the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris, or the Sistene Chapel ceiling) didn't sit well with me.
My historical fascination has always been Europe from the fall of Rome to the onset of the Enlightenment. Because of that, I was forced to recognize the beauty that eminated from the Catholic tradition: the exquisite architecture of the great Cathedrals, the music of Monteverdi, Beethoven, Mozart, and Palestrina, the paintings of Leonardo da Vinci and all the art of Michelangelo. These great masterpieces didn't simply emerge out of nowhere. Michelangelo and da Vinci had visible signs of a tradition of beauty present in the great Cathedrals of Europe. There was also the intellectual tradition that eminated from the Church: Augustine, Anselm, Aquinas, and Abelard all drew from the same wellspring. There were great moral figures that one could not ignore: Catherine of Sienna, Francis of Assisi and St. Benedict, whose lives helped shaped the fabric of all of Europe.
As my factual knowledge of European history grew, I could not deny that the Catholic Church existed before the Roman Empire fell. I could not deny that the sense of tradition that Augustine had for his forefathers in faith was the same that Aquinas had, because he used the same forefathers. I sensed an unbroken tradition that guided and shaped the course of Europe.
What struck me, in particular, was the tenacity with which the Church maintained that tradition. Sure, with all traditions, things gradually change over time, but with the Church it was different. Additional pious practices weren't simply added because they looked cool, or fit with some popular theology (to be fair, often popular practices emerged that could be considered dubious, but approved pious practices weren't added willy-nilly). Tradition was always a guide. To me, the Church, by insisting on using tradition as a guide, existed Universally: it would be the essentially the same in 500AD as it would in 1500AD, uniting all peoples, past, present, and future into One Faith.
The true breaking point, at least on the issue of tradition, was an essay I was writing for my Sophomore History class whilst in college. My professor posed the question: "Should there be a single interpreter for Scripture?" I struggled to answer that question. Initially, my response was a strong and resounding "NO!!" To stay on point, I will steer clear of my rationale, and illuminate ONE reason why I could not, in good conscience, turn that paper in (after all, at the end of my first draft, I found myself believing the affirmative, while answering in the negative): Tradition, with a capital T.
Up to this point, I have talked about tradition with a t, not Tradition with a T. I will summarize the difference: Tradition is that entire body of faith (doctrine and dogma) passed down from Christ to the Apostles, and through the Apostles and their successors, the rest of the world; tradition refers to the practices and belief structures (discipline) that have been maintained. Essentially, Tradition is the basis of tradition, and for this reason tradition is not easily thrown aside.
At some point in my attempt to answer the posed question in the negative, it dawned on me that the Catholic Church possessed an on-going understanding of Scripture, dating from before the time of Augustine (OK, confession time: at this point in my life, I was not ready to admit that the Catholic Church existed at the time of Pentacost...in fact, I had never really given it much thought. To me, Christian tradition essentially began with Augustine, essentially because he was the most well known Christian Father in my circle of acquaintances and family, so to say that there was a tradition dating from the time of Augustine is REALLY big). Above, I mentioned that to lose sight of tradition, to break with tradition is to lose sight of who we really are. As I struggled to vehemently oppose some tyrannical oppression of free-thought by wrong-headed Catholic Church, the importance of tradition (and by extension, Tradition) overwhelmed me. The Catholic Church possessed an ancient Tradition that brought with it wisdom and knowledge that individuals, on their own, lack. I knew that the great Christian thinkers I admired during this period, Augustine, Anselm, and Aquinas were part of the Catholic hierarchy (Augustine and Anselm were bishops, whilst Aquinas was a priest), an thus part of that Tradition.
At the end of this particular academic exercise, the essential groundwork for my acceptance of Christ's Church had been laid. Truly the Holy Spirit works in amazing ways.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Living Biblically: My reflections
I just finished AJ Jacobs' The Year of Living Biblically. To summarize, Jacobs embarks on one of his wierd quests (he read the entire Encyclopedia Britannica in a year for a book), in this case, living how the Bible asks you to...literally. Jacobs is self-proclaimed agnostic Jew. He is secular, and only kind of celebrates his Jewish heritage. He is unfamiliar with the Bible when he starts off (in fact, the Bible he starts reading is his ex-girlfriends'; he doesn't even own one).
Here are my reflections/reactions to the book:
1) It was an enjoyable read, and entertaining...not a waste of my time.
2) It reinforced my opinion on sola scriptura that I made over at RottinApologist:
"Even more personally, however, infallibility is an affront to people's pride and their own arrogance. The United States is inherently a Protestant nation. The entire ethic of "rugged individualism" is based on the Protestant idea of individual interpretation of Scripture. We relish that, we thrive off that, we LOVE that. It gives us POWER, puts US in control."
It is clear, at least to me, that while Jacobs followed the letter of the Bible, it was only because he had to. Essentially, however, he rejected what tradition says about certain passages...because more "modern" interpretations fit his own percieved construct. For example, despite the immense volume of what Jewish and Christian Tradition says about the passages in the Bible about homosexuality (namely that homosexuality is a grave offense against God), Jacobs rejects them in favor of a more modern interpretation. He does the same thing with abortion (despite the fact that Jewish and Christian tradition clearly condemn abortion universally). Such facts are uncomfortable.
3) Jacobs never once mentioned talking to a Catholic or Orthodox cleric for his mission. Instead, the catholics he referrenced were (Fr) Richard McBrien and ex-nun Karen Armstrong. Calling them "heretical" would be an understatement.
4) Jacobs makes a very good point: religious belief frees us from the slavery of too many behavioral choices. At first, Jacobs likes that freedom. However, when it runs contrary to his secular beliefs, he is ready to backtrack on a dime.
Here are my reflections/reactions to the book:
1) It was an enjoyable read, and entertaining...not a waste of my time.
2) It reinforced my opinion on sola scriptura that I made over at RottinApologist:
"Even more personally, however, infallibility is an affront to people's pride and their own arrogance. The United States is inherently a Protestant nation. The entire ethic of "rugged individualism" is based on the Protestant idea of individual interpretation of Scripture. We relish that, we thrive off that, we LOVE that. It gives us POWER, puts US in control."
It is clear, at least to me, that while Jacobs followed the letter of the Bible, it was only because he had to. Essentially, however, he rejected what tradition says about certain passages...because more "modern" interpretations fit his own percieved construct. For example, despite the immense volume of what Jewish and Christian Tradition says about the passages in the Bible about homosexuality (namely that homosexuality is a grave offense against God), Jacobs rejects them in favor of a more modern interpretation. He does the same thing with abortion (despite the fact that Jewish and Christian tradition clearly condemn abortion universally). Such facts are uncomfortable.
3) Jacobs never once mentioned talking to a Catholic or Orthodox cleric for his mission. Instead, the catholics he referrenced were (Fr) Richard McBrien and ex-nun Karen Armstrong. Calling them "heretical" would be an understatement.
4) Jacobs makes a very good point: religious belief frees us from the slavery of too many behavioral choices. At first, Jacobs likes that freedom. However, when it runs contrary to his secular beliefs, he is ready to backtrack on a dime.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Unions and Catholic Social Teaching
In reading Bl. John Paul II's Centesimus annus, I came across a rather interesting statement: "Here we find the reason for the Church's defence and approval of the establishment of what are commonly called trade unions: certainly not because of ideological prejudices or in order to surrender to a class mentality, but because the righ of association is a natural right of the human being, which therefore proceeds his or her incorporation into political society. Indeed, the formation of unions "cannot...be prohibited by the State", because "the State is bound to protect natural rights, not to destroy them; and if it forbids its citizens to form associations, it contradicts the very principle of its own existence (Rerum novarum, 135)." (Centesimus annus, 7)
Why does the Church support trade unions or labor unions? Not because of their goals or what they are trying to accomplish. No, the Church supports simply their right to exist, because all humans have an inalienable right to form associations. In fact, Bl. John Paul II recognizes a fact it seems that many progressive Catholics conveniently ignore: "Later on, this movement [the labor movement] was dominated to a certain extent by the Marxist ideology against which Rerum novarum had spoken." This can be seen by the Goethe movement, as well as labor unions in the US, many of which are still overtly Marxist. Despite the evil these unions support (make no mistake, the Church has consipicuously stated that Marxism and Socialism are evil), the Church supports their existence because it is the right of their members to form such an association.
My conclusion: you don't have to support unions to be a disciple of the Social Teaching of the Church.
Why does the Church support trade unions or labor unions? Not because of their goals or what they are trying to accomplish. No, the Church supports simply their right to exist, because all humans have an inalienable right to form associations. In fact, Bl. John Paul II recognizes a fact it seems that many progressive Catholics conveniently ignore: "Later on, this movement [the labor movement] was dominated to a certain extent by the Marxist ideology against which Rerum novarum had spoken." This can be seen by the Goethe movement, as well as labor unions in the US, many of which are still overtly Marxist. Despite the evil these unions support (make no mistake, the Church has consipicuously stated that Marxism and Socialism are evil), the Church supports their existence because it is the right of their members to form such an association.
My conclusion: you don't have to support unions to be a disciple of the Social Teaching of the Church.
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