“A Spiritual 2×4 to the Face” – A Few Words on Fasting, pt. 4

By Nathaniel Richards
I am not an expert nor am I a spiritual master. However, I hope to be found a disciple of Jesus Christ despite my many personal failings and grievous sins. It is because I have fallen many times and must be humble in my pursuit not to fall again, that I feel I can tell you about the general process of getting back up again. Truly, it is a lifelong process. That said, I would like to provide my own experiences with fasting before I end this series.
Growing up, fasting was something I always heard about in my nascent Oneness Pentecostal tradition, but not often put into ongoing practice. I recall my parents would do it from time to time. Later in life when I began to start coming to a more liturgical mindset of practicing Christianity, I had a general idea about giving up things for Lent or fasting, but I was greatly limited in this endeavor. I would give up social media or would attempt to fast…only to break out my device or succumb to hunger.
Once I was fully within the fold of the Catholic Church, I still had some growing to do. A few years of being a Catholic past before I started practicing abstinence from meat on Fridays. I finally started doing that because there was a priest pastoring the Ordinariate parish I attended at the time who set an example. By embracing the traditional Friday abstinence, I sought a more authentic imitation of Christ in following through with penitential discipline. The Lord gave up His flesh for me on a Friday and I felt compelled to give up eating flesh on Fridays in remembrance of Him. The next Lent I began to water-fast on Wednesdays and Fridays. And was mostly successful—though at midnight those days I would make a quick run to a fast food restaurant.
In 2020, I was invited by a friend to do a highly ascetical program called Exodus 90. It has various disciplines…everything from abstinence from meat on Wednesdays and Fridays, to cold showers, to cutting down on technology use and refraining from sweets, along with a commitment to significant prayer. It was a lot. A spiritual 2×4 to the face; an analogy Fr. Donald Calloway likes to employ. I was very zealous for the disciplines in the beginning, but as I went along, and as the COVID-19 pandemic and hysteria heightened, I fell away from my zeal. My cold showers became warmer and warmer. I suddenly became a phone zombie and found excuses to get dessert or thought I was too tired from working some days to do my full holy hour. My effort was laughable on many days of this spiritual exercise.
I failed in many respects. But I also learned. And gained.
I lost weight for starters—something I’ve struggled with most of my life. Water-fasting two days out of the week will melt off the pounds (I changed this part of the Exodus 90 discipline to have continuity with my previous Lent). I also began to spend more time with my family on the days I wasn’t a phone zombie. I was able to read things I wanted to read because I suddenly had the time. And greatest of all…I began to have more time to pray and spend time with the Lord. Not only by myself in the holy hour, but to develop some semblance of family prayer and devotion with my wife.
I am still working on these things. And indeed, post Exodus 90 I am struggling on some of the things I thought I had some victories on. I have gained back some of the weight, and though I generally practice abstinence from meat on Wednesdays and Fridays outside of Lent, it does not take long for the sharp edge that you thought was your spiritual life to dull.
I have not lost hope, however. For I will continue to apply myself to the grindstone that is Jesus, the chief cornerstone (Mt. xxi. 32). He is the Author and Finisher of my faith and indeed the Faith of all the Fathers (Heb. xii. 2). Furthermore, His Body the Church through all her members in the Church Triumphant, Expectant, and Militant are praying for me and alongside me. In these members and brothers I have found in the Church, I see the Truth of Sacred Scripture that “Iron sharpeneth iron, so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend” (Prov. xxvi. 17). All of Heaven is rooting for me—all of the angels and saints. The Lord is still working on me, but I have no cause for despair.
Neither should you. Continue to apply yourself to the grindstone of Christ through fasting and prayer. You will see how the basic building block of prayer that is fasting will help you pray better and to help you see yourself as God sees you…and not how you pretend your spiritual state to be. Fasting is the great reality check and as a cross we carry, it brings to surface the true crux of the matter— “Whosoever doth not carry his cross and come after me, cannot be my disciple.” (Lk. xiv. 27)
In parting, I will say this. We must become disciples who daily commit themselves to hard truths of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Fasting is a foundation that helps solidify our good aspirations to live the Gospel and bring them from the realm of theory to realistic concreteness. Without fasting, we are living a gospel of cheap grace and nothing substantial. True, one could use fasting as a tool of pride and take it to hyperbolic self-abusive portions. However, the saints show us that while they are extreme, they are also aren’t completely insane. The caricatures of albino self-flagellating monks of Dan Brown thrillers are exactly that—hyperbole and libel. Whereas the saints are a people who get up again after failing and try over and over with help of God’s Grace. With St. Paul we say wholeheartedly, “I chastise my body, and bring it into subjection: lest perhaps, when I have preached to others, I myself should become a castaway” (I Cor. ix. 27).
Wherefore it is said in the scripture: Behold, I lay in Sion a chief corner stone, elect, precious. And he that shall believe in him, shall not be confounded. To you therefore that believe, he is honour: but to them that believe not, the stone which the builders rejected, the same is made the head of the corner: And a stone of stumbling, and a rock of scandal, to them who stumble at the word, neither do believe, whereunto also they are set. But you are a chosen generation, a kingly priesthood, a holy nation, a purchased people: that you may declare his virtues, who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light: Who in time past were not a people: but are now the people of God. Who had not obtained mercy; but now have obtained mercy (I Peter ii. 6-10).
—
Nathaniel Richards is a Catholic husband and father who lives in the Ozarks. He enjoys collecting Catholic books and promises that one day he will read most of them—eventually, maybe. Starting a Catholic bookstore that sells books rather than gifts is a dream of his. He converted from Oneness Pentecostalism to Anglicanism and eventually made his way to Catholicism in 2015.
Palamas, Aquinas and the Metaphysical Wordwebs of the Athenians
Two views: David Bradshaw and W. N. Williams
By Timothy S. Flanders
The Epistemology of Language and the Pentecostal Church
In the year of our Lord 565, the emperor (St.) Justinian died. This man is loved by Chalcedonian Orthodox for his imperial piety, hated by Latin Christians for his imperial ambition, esteemed by secular historians for his architectural achievements, and hated by Non-Chalcedonians for his repressive violence. But for our purposes, we will point out one fact that had far-reaching consequences into our own day: Justinian was the last Christian leader in the east who could read and write Latin.
In the lands of the Latin west, knowledge of Greek dwindled with the collapse of imperial power in the late 5th century. The political circumstances that exacerbated the geographical distance between Greek and Latin (Barabarian or Muhammadan hordes, loss or reinstitution of the western imperial throne, etc.) prevented intellectual culture from being exchanged, and the Greek patristic tradition grew independent of Latin. West of the Adriatic, a Latin tradition passed down from the Latin Fathers and others (such as Boethius and Cassiodorus) became the intellectual basis for Latin thought in parallel to the Greek tradition.
Both areas of Christian culture developed separate traditions based on separate languages. This is a crucial point to seize upon. Here is the reason: language enables thought. Without language, thought is impossible. Language gives voice to thought, but it also gives it limits—as anything with meaning must have. Thus in the divine mystery of the Christian faith, different languages will result in different thoughts about that faith, different words, phrases, concepts, terminologies, philosophies. Different traditions of the one Tradition.
Since it is impossible to express thoughts without words, there are only two ways to completely agree on the Tradition—use the same language, or know both languages. Theological truth can only be grasped with a full knowledge of the language through which it is being expressed. But the east did not know Latin nor did the west Greek. Therefore, if our premise about language is correct, it was necessarily inevitable that they would develop different thoughts. Therefore it is incorrect to expect Greek thought from a Latin, or Latin thinking from a Greek. But this is what eventually happened. The first sustained attack on Latin thought from the east came from a brilliant Greek scholar who could not read Latin (Photios).
What does God teach us in the Holy Scriptures? The Church was born at Pentecost. And suddenly a sound like a rushing wind…and they began to speak in other languages (Acts ii. 2-4). The birth of the Church is in multilingualism—expressing the Good News in a mosaic of linguistic beauty. Since this is nothing less than the coming of God the Holy Spirit, we say that the Truth of God cannot be expressed except in many languages at once. What one language emphasizes in thought, another language compliments and augments. What one language beautifies, another exults, another praises, another rejoices. Against the pride of Man, God confounded our languages—the Holy Spirit brought them back into unity. Not by recreating one language, but by making languages speak in harmony.
Thus we must reject the teaching that the theological thoughts of one language (for example, the Hebrew), cannot equally—but differently—be expressed in another language (like Greek).[1] This is nothing less than the truth of the Holy Trinity—that the truth is one essence in three Persons. The inner essence of the truth is preserved, but the beauty of diversity flowers. There cannot be a truly Christian theology that is not multilingual.
East-West Linguistic history and certain errors to be avoided
It is with this premise of language that we approach the question of the philosophical division between East and West that Dr. Bradshaw and Dr. Williams approach in their works. But before we delve deeper into their data and arguments, let us explore further the implications of linguistics for the history of Christian division.
When we say that Christian theology must be multilingual necessarily, this can be considered in tandem with the truth that God can only be spoken of through analogy. We use human terms which come from created things to describe God from multiple angles. If God were created, these would fall into self-contradiction, but since they are analogies, they can all be true. And who will say that a certain number of analogies is enough to describe God? No. Rather, more analogies means a fuller picture of God, a more complete theology—proviso, of course, that every theology is substantially united with the pentecostal, apostolic faith.
But the process of discerning if such and such theology is or is not congruous is exacerbated when Christians fail to take into account the fundamental properties of language and a pentecostal Church. Sadly, it seems the divisions between Christians have largely been perpetuated not only through an ignorance to this principle, but also an apathy for its realization. While the western tradition began substantially reappropriating the Greek language in the Renaissance, the prejudice against Greek Christianity continued into the later 19th century (when Leo XIII began to reverse the heretical idea of Latin theological, spiritual, and ritual superiority). The Eastern Christians, meanwhile, showed checkered interest in Latin theological training and spiritual classics like The Imitation of Christ, but were unable to reciprocate an appropriation of the Latin tradition by learning and teaching Latin.
So both sides are guilty of this linguistic and intellectual division. However, even though only recently the Latin Church has begun to significantly overcome its anti-Greek prejudice, and certain very important prejudices remain (such as married clergy), it can be said that the west, as a whole, has integrated and continues to integrate the Greek tradition into a single, culturally holistic Christian faith—within the Catholic Church.
This cannot be said of Orthodoxy. But lest the reader become enflamed with confessional passion, allow me explain the possible reasons for this.
The first and most obvious is that the Orthodox east, rather than the Latin west, has suffered the brunt of the Muhammadan take-over. The Muhammadans have spiritually and politically dominated or threatened most of the east for most of its existence. Cultural domination, while not preventing cultural development—St. Yuhanna al-Demashqi (John of Damascus) certainly is a counterexample—nonetheless does stunt its growth significantly. This would impede or even prevent a fruitful cultural exchange.
Furthermore, the people who would teach the east Latin—the Latins themselves—seemed to only enter the east in order to cause trouble. Of course this is oversimplifying the historical events, but the Greek anxiety of a Latin crusader threat—however real or imagined or excommunicated fanatics they might be—was not conducive to integrating the Latin tradition into the east.
By contrast, when the Latin west learned Greek, it was from eastern refugees fleeing the Turks during the 15th century. Their Greek learning was popular and profitable in the age of Renaissance Humanist obsessions (good and bad) with Hellenism. They were welcomed and celebrated.[2]
So the east does not understand the west, though the west has indeed been growing in their knowledge of the east—yes, slowly, but substantially. But this is not simply because of the east’s narrow-minded, myopic self-righteousness. This sinfulness is certainly present and at work provoking division among brothers—something which the Lord hates (Prov. vi. 19). But the Latins are also responsible for the east’s ignorance of Latin. This accords well with the statements of Vatican II in saying that “both sides were to blame,” and St. John Paul II’s humble words from Ut Unum Sint.[3] However, it took the west over twenty generations to realize that—and that’s with the knowledge of Greek on their side. The east has not had Latin since Justinian.
The reason these things are important to keep in mind is that understanding the nuances of our history can help us approach these problems in a fruitful way. I write this so that there is no confusion and accusation to the other side when we approach this problem. Once we consider the historical context, we can begin to see some of the misunderstandings that can arise. I will point out three important errors that are made concerning east-west relations and their relevance for this discussion.
The first was briefly mentioned above vis-à-vis the development of doctrine. We will call this the ‘error of doctrine development.’ It is incorrect to think that since the eastern mind developed orthodox thought pattern x, it must become the theological plumb line for the west, the measure of its orthodoxy. Since the west did not develop the Greek thought pattern x, it is therefore heretical. That is as much as saying, “Because you do not have what we did not give you, it is your fault.”
This is because of what he have said: particular languages develop particular thought patterns unique to them. Each language can legitimately express the orthodox faith in their own thoughts through their own language. Even the terms essentia, esse, and οὐσία can all be translated into English as “essence.” But they do not mean the same thing in both traditions. Thus also with our authors, Palamas and Aquinas—both developed differing systems of deification with different thought patterns. They should be studied in their own context on their own terms, not judged unfairly by cross-cultural and anachronistic prejudices.
Without acknowledging this error, a second erroneous polemic can be created, which is similar to the first. This is the ‘error of false distinctions.’ This means emphasizing one aspect of the Christian faith over another aspect when both aspects should be held together. Some, for instance, try to draw a distinction between a “wrathful and judgmental” God of the west, and a “loving” God of the east.[4] This is rubbish. One need only to attend an Orthodox Church on the Sunday of the Last Judgment to receive wrath and judgment, and hear mass on the feast of the Sacred Heart to know a loving God.
Another common false distinction is between the “rationalizing, scholastic” west and the “mystical east.” First—there must be both reasoned logic and mysticism in any good theology. Further, this error ignores the fact of the counterexamples on both sides and homogenizes a diverse tradition. For example, we might bring up the fact that the scholastics based their summas on St. John of Damascus, or the mystical treatises of the west—even the mysticism of St. Thomas Aquinas.[5] Aquinas is, nevertheless, dismissed by many from the east as too ‘scholastic’ while Palamas is considered a mystical genius. These false distinctions should be shunned owing to the appreciation of each man’s context, and his attempt to communicate the Good News in that context. Palamas is also systematic, and Aquinas is also mystical. False distinctions do nothing but oversimplify a complex reality in order to further biased polemics.
The third error is a more obvious one: ‘one-sided blame.’ This is the case with the 1848 exchange between the Holy Father and the Greek Patriarchs. Both sides claimed the other to be in error, without conceding any guilt for their own actions in causing schism. This is as obvious to us as the speck in our brothers eye—because we are critiquing someone else. (I should be the first to admit my own guilt, which is great—forgive me, dear reader.) In the example of linguistic poverty, it is improper, as I have argued, to blame either side for being ignorant of the other. Both sides are to blame for these various reasons. Thus Palamas and Aquinas must both be approached sympathetically in their own context without false distinctions. Even if there is some poverty of thought on the one side—which is inevitable, given our thoughts on language—this must not be proclaimed triumphantly as a defect, but rather shown as an opportunity for brethren to share the good gifts that God has given us.
Viewed with the backdrop of multilingualism and the fact that it has not obtained for most of Christian history, these secondary sources should be viewed as initial efforts to engage the traditions in constructive ways. The intelligentsia discuss matters and draw conclusions but the lay public, lacking the breadth of a scholar’s knowledge is less able to compare and contrast with objectivity. Thus my purpose here is to introduce the reader to these perspectives, analyze them, show the scholarly debate on the subjects, and suggest possible solutions. The gap that I observe in the Church between scholars and lay-folk is exacerbated by popular books promoting ignorant misinformation that would never (I hope) be published in an academic arena.
The Basic Problem of θεόσις
Let us proceed to the basic problem of our study: union with God. The Scripture speaks of it rather plainly: we are to “partake of the divine nature” (II Pet. i. 4). But anything that partakes of a nature possesses it and is one with it. If something partakes of human nature, we call that thing human. Thus if something partakes of divine nature, shall we call that thing a god? Shall we quote the 82nd Psalm (“ye are gods”) to assuage our discomfort? But this man says we can be gods who should be worshipped. And this man says that partaking of God is blasphemous and against tawhid. The orthodox Christian must condemn both of these extremes, and offer an orthodox alternative.
We must deny the Muhammadan separation between man and his Creator, and we must also deny the pagan apotheosis of man into his Creator. Further, we must deny the gnostic separation of spirit and flesh on the one hand and the hedonist slavery to flesh on the other. We must navigate through the Muhammadan-Lutheran-Calvinist notion of fatalism and destruction of the human will and the Pelagian-Deist-Atheist fantasy of human self-salvation. Finally, we must guard the idea that God is absolutely whole—or “simple”—from both the Muhammadan idea of God as “The God” (Allah)—a singular monad—and the pagan multiplication of gods.
These are the distinctions that the Christian tradition in east and west has attempted to navigate in their own way. The east, using the Greek tradition, speaks of θεόσις, or deification—becoming God. The west, using the Latin tradition, speaks of justification or sanctification or participation. Each tradition is exemplified in the figures of St. Thomas Aquinas in the west and St. Gregory Palamas in the east. Though the tradition of the west or the east should not be foolishly identified with the writings of one or the other, their thoughts certainly qualify to stand at the precipice of the Doctors within either tradition. Both attempted and succeeded at drawing upon the wealth of their respective traditions (and, in the case of Aquinas, the other as well, to a certain extent) and formulating an extremely influential synthesis which has been passed down and still holds preeminence. St. Gregory Palamas not only is celebrated on his own feast day, but holds one of the Lenten Sunday commemorations with other great sages like St. John Climacus and St. Mary of Egypt. St. Thomas Aquinas is not only one of the doctors of the Latin church, but holds the further epithet of “angelic” doctor.
In any case, though we cannot identify either with the tradition itself, their views on union with God did become one of the standard terminologies for their tradition. Thus comparing their views will help us understand a few points of the traditions’ divergences and commonalities. And this is where we will introduce our two authors.
The first work was published in 1999 by the Cambridge scholar Dr. A.N. Williams taking the title The Ground of Union: Deification in Aquinas and Palamas. This is the first book-length comparison of the two authors. She devotes half of her book to a detailed analysis of each author’s conceptual framework of deification. Her thesis is essentially that St. Thomas and St. Gregory are speaking differently about the same thing, emphasizing different parts. (Her work can be considered the Catholic perspective on the matter).
G. R. Evans writes that the work is a “pioneering attempt to understand what understandings of the human task of ‘return to God’ lay on either side of the schism.”[6] Dr. John Chryssavgis from the Orthodox seminary of the Holy Cross called the Dr. Williams’ erudition “admirable,” and commended her irenic approach. He has larger criticisms for some of her conclusions, which we will mention below. The harshest criticism comes from Dr. David Bradshaw of the University of Kentucky (our other author). He critiques Dr. Williams’ equating Thomistic deification with Palamite, and her assertion that the essence and energies distinction is nominal. He does state, however, that Mrs. Williams “is to be commended for her attempt to understand both authors sympathetically.”[7]
When Dr. Bradshaw published his similar work later in 2004 (Aristotle East and West: Metaphysics and the Division of Christendom), happily he states in the preface that “I have attempted to treat the historical material impartially with the aim of arriving at a sympathetic understanding of both traditions within their own context.”[8] In the book he traces the use of the term ἐνέργεια from Aristotle through to its influences on pre-Christian philosophy and the formation of the eastern tradition. He then contrasts the formation of the eastern tradition with the inadequacies and contradictions of Augustine and Aquinas. His thesis is that the western tradition is fundamentally unsound chiefly because it did not develop the proper use of the term ἐνέργεια. He is an eastern Orthodox Christian.
His scholarly analysis of the term ἐνέργεια from a historical point of view is praised by many scholars, one calling it a “tour de force.”[9] The book earned Mr. Bradshaw The Journal of the History of Idea’s Morris D. Forkosch prize. But if the historical survey of ἐνέργεια was the first goal of the book, the vindication of the eastern tradition is the second. I could find only eight scholarly review of the book, and most of them said the same thing: “Generally, Bradshaw’s execution of his first goal is irenic and scholarly. The same cannot be said for the way he handles his second goal.”[10] Scholars called Mr. Bradshaw’s handling of the eastern tradition vis-à-vis the west as “a shame,”[11] which is “argumentative”[12] and “polemical,” suffering from “prejudice,” and ultimately becomes “a typically ‘Eastern,’ or neo-Eastern, apotheosis of Palamite theology.”[13] The reasons for this criticism will become apparent below.
Prejudices and Methodology
Dr. Williams begins her analysis with a welcomed critique of the past and present state of misunderstanding between the two thinkers. She critiques numerous studies from both sides claiming to definitively debunk the other side. She critiques first the historical argument that the west condemned Palamism and the east Thomism. For instance, the Parisian condemnation of the denial of the Beatific vision in 1241, or pope Benedict’s vindication it in 1336 cannot be taken as a condemnation of Palamas, who died in 1359 and was unknown in the west. As Dr. Williams points out, “most commentators from both East and West generally agree that the very categories of nature and grace are scarcely applicable to Eastern theology.”[14] Thus to apply terms at face value to other side is committing the error of doctrine development.
Furthermore, Barlaam, St. Gregory’s opponent, harshly critiques St. Thomas Aquinas, and should not be taken to be a representative of his thought—and the attitude toward Aquinas by Palamas is unknown.[15] The eastern synod of 1368 seemed to condemn certain western concepts, but scholars on both sides are divided on how to interpret these vis-à-vis the west.[16] Because of the lack of communication with the other side, these concepts cannot be taken—especially at face value—to mean a bare condemnation of another tradition. Dr. Williams concludes by saying that
Commentators differ deeply on the degree and significance of data pertaining to theological differences between East and West, sometimes interpreting the same datum in radically different ways…the commentators’ own assumption of systematic opposition leads to claims inadequately supported by historical fact.[17]
Williams suggests that the majority of commentators on this issue are committing the first and third errors we mentioned above. They are assuming that either side should develop the same terms, and interpreting condemnations of the other prima facie as outright opposition, when no historical interaction provided a workable understanding with which to condemn.
She points out, too, how many modern commentators have not fully digested the texts against which they write, provoking the charge of misunderstanding from the opposing side. She critiques the polemical Catholics like Mr. Martin Jugie, Mr. Steven Runciman, Fr. Adrian Fortescue, Fr. Thomas Tyn and the Orthodox Vladimir Lossky, Deno Geanakoplos, and Fr. John Romanides. She commends, however, the more irenic and objective Catholic scholars like Bernhard Schultze, Cardinal Yves Congar, and the Orthodox Metropolitan Kallistos Ware and Fr. John Meyendorff—who call for a return to the sources. The dominant voice, however, seem to be the polemical. Dr. Williams concludes:
Because so many of these commentators appear motivated by overt polemical intent and so many of them inadequately document the theology they describe, the modern debate, like the medieval, raises questions rather than establishes the irreconcilability of Thomist and Palamite theology.[18]
Her first chapter is a welcome attack on polemicism in this debate, and convinces the reader that her approach will truly be sympathetic in reading both Palamas and Aquinas, presenting their work in a sober and objective manner.
Dr. Bradshaw introduces his work by claiming in his preface that, compared to the west, “eastern Christendom had from the beginning a fundamentally different way of understanding the whole range of issues pertaining to the relationship of faith and reason.” He thus asserts that “we must take account of the eastern tradition,”[19] though he says that he wishes to be sympathetic to both, as we quoted supra. With all due respect to Mr. Bradshaw, this intention does not seem to have been accomplished.
Even without reading the book, the reader can see from the table of contents that after the preliminary sketch of the term ἐνέργεια through its pre-Christian origins, Mr. Bradshaw devotes 68 pages to discussing the “formation” and “flowering” of the eastern tradition in the first millennium. Turning to the Latin tradition in the first millennium, Mr. Bradshaw uses only 7 pages to describe what he sees as the dismal blunders of St. Augustine. He then conclude that “clearly the gulf separating Augustine from the eastern tradition is immense.”[20] Could it be that Dr. Bradshaw suffers from the polemicism that Dr. Williams critiques in her introductory chapter?
Other scholars think so. As we said above, scholars received Dr. Bradshaw’s analysis of pre-Christian ἐνέργεια as helpful, but his polemics as “extravagant.”[21] Dr. Bradshaw’s treatment of Augustine, according to Prof. Jean-Yves of Paris, is “misleading” and filled with the “same old prejudices.”[22] Dr. Andrew Redde-Gallwitz of the Loyola University Chicago says that Mr. Bradshaw analyzes Augustine “rather quaintly, given the past century of scholarship” and his work is ultimately “dominated by partisanship.”[23] Scholars call Mr. Bradshaw’s treatment of Aquinas as “surprisingly polemical” and “unnecessarily contentious” that lacks the same depth of analysis that Mr. Bradshaw gives to the eastern tradition.[24]
When Dr. Bradshaw does present Palamas, he devotes 12 pages to him, calling his thought a “synthesis” of the eastern tradition but which is missing the Dionysian hierarchies and the Spirit’s eternal manifestation teaching (which he had analyzed in his sections on the “formation” and “flowering” of the east). But Mr. Bradshaw concludes sympathetically that “one can hardly fault Palamas for failing to bring together all the diverse strands of the eastern tradition.”[25] It is unfortunate then, that this sympathy is not also given to the west, as Mr. Bradshaw only analyzes Augustine and Aquinas (although certain non-patristic philosophies are mentioned, like Victorinus and Boethius). Because of this approach, the reader is not convinced that Dr. Bradshaw is truly succeeding in presenting a sober understanding of the west.
Dr. Williams, for her part, devotes two large chapters of dense analysis to Palamas and Aquinas, which amounts to 68 pages for Aquinas and 55 for Palamas. Her analysis is intricately bound to the sources, and she presents a compelling case for deification in Aquinas.
Divine Simplicity, Love and Deification in Aquinas
Dr. Williams begins by pointing out that St. Thomas himself uses the term “deification” in certain places in the Summa. In questions I-II.62 and 65, Aquinas roots deification within the classical reference to II Peter. His doctrine, writes Mrs. Williams, hinges upon his conception of divine simplicity—that only in God are existence and essence identical, having no distinguishing parts. In other words, God’s love is God, it is not something God merely possesses. Therefore to partake of God’s love is to partake of God Himself. Human beings, on the other hand, are not simple, like the Creator. They have individual existence, and a common essence—humanity—which is shared by all. Dr. Williams notes, then, that
simplicity, as it functions in the Summa, paradoxically contains in nuce the essential elements of a doctrine of deification: it articulates the absolute distinction between Uncreated and created and yet indicates the means by which these distinct entities are to be united in knowledge and love.[26]
Instead of selecting quotations out of context from the Summa (as other scholars have) she chooses to look at the Summa as a whole and survey how the principle of simplicity is used for deification. This allows her to evaluate Thomas qua Thomas, not insofar as he does or does not follow Greek terminology, which would commit the error of development of doctrine.
Dr. Bradshaw, however, seems to commit this error in his basic assumptions for analysis. He criticizes the doctrine of divine simplicity by presenting Aquinas in multiple places as if he is simply being arrogant and openly rejecting the authority of Greek Fathers.[27] Having already dismissed St. Augustine as essentially failing to be a Latin patristic authority (without any mention of other Latin fathers), Mr. Bradshaw portrays Aquinas’ concept of simplicity as leading to an over-intellectualized deification, making it to be merely “an extrinsic one founded on efficient causality.”[28] Furthermore, Dr. Bradshaw claims that the assertion of divine simplicity—especially as it regards the denial of any potentiality in God—sacrifices God’s free will.
Prof. Williams, however, points out, as we have said, that divine simplicity crucially distinguishes between the creator and creature, and at the same time identifies God’s love and goodness with His essence—thereby creating the categories within which to understand participation in God. Far from being a mere intellectual union in the mind, Dr. Williams points out that Aquinas emphasizes intellectual knowledge as a necessary prerequisite for love, since (quoting Augustine), Aquinas says that “none can love what he does not know.”[29] Aquinas claims that “knowledge is the cause of love for the same reason good is, which can be loved only if known” (I-II.27, 2 resp.).[30] But not only this, love exceeds knowledge in its use, because one can perfectly love that which is not perfectly known.
In addition, Mrs. Williams brings forth passages which clearly show Aquinas mystical conception of union with God’s love as deification:
The beloved is contained in the lover, by being impressed on his heart and thus becoming the object of his complacency. On the other hand, the lover is contained in the beloved, inasmuch as the lover penetrates, so to speak, into the beloved (I-II.28,2 ad 1).
And concerning the infinity of union with God’s love, Aquinas writes,
[There is no] limit imposed to the increase of man’s charity, while he is in the state of a wayfarer. For charity itself considered as such has no limit to its increase, since it is a participation of the infinite charity which is the Holy Ghost [est enim participatio quaedam infitiae caritas, qui est Spiritus Sanctus]. In like manner the cause of the increase of charity, viz., God, is possessed of infinite power. Furthermore, on the part of its subject, no limit to this increase can be determined, because whenever charity increases, there is a corresponding increased ability to receive a further increase. It is therefore evident that it is not possible to fix any limits to the increase of charity in this life. (II-II.24, 7)[31]
With this in mind, Dr. Williams relates, the deification of St. Thomas may begin in this life and continue on unto eternity, with no end—a concept closely resembling St. Gregory of Nyssa.[32]
Dr. Bradshaw, however, claims that the Augustinian-Aquinas deification is in “sharp contrast” to the eastern doctrine of perpetual progress, though he makes no effort to reconcile the two.[33] In his review of Mrs. Williams’ work, he claimed that one source of difference between Aquinas is that he does not mention the body in deification, whereas Palamas does—though again, any effort to reconcile them seems to be absent.
But through his emphasis on love, Williams sees how Aquinas can maintain that a man can love God as much as he is capable through grace, but not as much as God is lovable—that is, as much as He loves Himself. In other words, we can be perfected in love of God infinitely, but never as much as God is perfect in love. Through these terms, Aquinas is able to maintain the distinction between Creator and created, but also safeguard the participation in the Creator through His love. These concepts seem to imply that the body is included in deification in Thomas. As far as Mr. Bradshaw’s claim that divine simplicity compromises God’s free will, L. J. Elders of The Netherlands’ Institute of Philosophy and Theology calls this objection “surprising,” and answers it by saying that Dr. Bradshaw “fail[s] to notice that divine freedom totally differs from human freedom of choice.”[34]
The Knowability of God – Sympathetic Readings of East and West
Dr. Bradshaw, moreover, creates a false distinction when he says “whereas for the East God is beyond knowing, Aquinas regards Him as the highest intelligible object.”[35] Does Mr. Bradshaw plan to maintain that the Eastern Christian cannot know God? Of course not. Is he prepared to claim that the western Christians know God as He knows Himself? Of course not. What is the purpose, then of these false distinctions? These statements only obscure the question and lead to misunderstanding. Dr. Bradshaw himself admits that both Augustine and Aquinas claim that God is knowable but also unknowable. But instead of trying to see a way that the two sides could be saying the same thing, he makes false distinctions like this.
Misunderstanding the development of doctrine, Dr. Bradshaw openly compares the terms of Aquinas with those of the Greek Fathers without any qualification as to their context, assuming that the language and thought barrier does not affect understanding, because of the common Aristotelian framework. This, however, fails to truly engage the epistemological concepts of language mentioned above. If we investigate the reasons he gives for this false distinction, we see how this is the case.
Dr. Bradshaw argues that because the Greek Fathers (such as Nyssa) claimed that the οὐσία of God could not be known, Aquinas’ claim that the esse can be seen is in objection to the Greeks. Dr. Bradshaw has the temerity to attack Aquinas’ character itself: “Gregory [Nyssa]’s writings were not available to Aquinas, however and even if they had been it is unlikely that Aquinas would have changed his mind.”[36] And as we said, Prof. Bradshaw admits earlier that Aquinas states, following Augustine, that the divine essentia is “seen but not comprehended.”[37] Thus, let us lay this out clearly:
1. Aquinas maintains we can know God truly (using the words “see His esse”) but not know Him as if we were God Himself 2. The Greek Fathers, Dr. Bradshaw tells us, teach that we can truly know God, but use the Greek term οὐσία to denote that which man or woman cannot know of God 3. One side, using Latin terms, says that we can know God but not as He knows Himself 4. The other side, using Greek terms, says that we can know God but not as He knows Himself
This is why I submit that Mr. Bradshaw’s argument is a false distinction. Is this the same foolishness that caused the Chalcedonian schism? Different use of terminology to say the same thing? Let the reader judge. Furthermore, scholars dispute Dr. Bradshaw’s reading of the Greek fathers, saying that it is not as clear “Palamite” as the Kansas professor asserts.[38]
Dr. Williams’ approach is more erudite. For instance, she points out that Aquinas emphasizes love far more than St. Gregory does. But she does not take this to be a defect in Palamas, but simply different and valid emphases. Instead, she takes the points at with St. Palamas does use love as a term for deification and attempts to reconcile it with St. Thomas’ strong focus on the term. She admits that
while love appears in Gregory’s writing with relative infrequency and assuredly possess little systematic importance, the extravagance of his language and the strong links he forges between love and the heights of mystical experience and union concord entirely with [Gregory’s] simple claim, echoing 1 Corinthians 13: “Love is the most perfect of all gifts” (II.2.11).[39]
This is the type of analysis that Mr. Bradshaw seems to desire to accomplish from his preface, in a “sympathetic reading of both traditions.” But there seems to be little sympathetic readings like this one in Mr. Bradshaw’s work. Prof. Jean-Yves agrees with Dr. Bradshaw when he asserts that the concept of uncreated energies is incongruous with Aquinas’ terminology. Dr. Jean-Yves contends, however, that while it is true that deification is unknown in the west “(at least as a word), participation is not, and the West has not (or not only) ‘weak’ theories of sanctifying grace and sanctification.”[40] Dr. Jean-Yves criticizes Mr. Bradshaw for making a monolithic caricature of the western tradition as only St. Thomas, and not the other more “mystical” texts: Bonaventure or Cistercian theology, who make use of other analogies of deification.
Palamite Dogma and the Reality of the Essence/Energies Distinction
However, Dr. Williams’ work is not without its criticisms. One of the things Dr. Williams asserts, for instance, is the ambiguous nature of St. Gregory Palamas as a dogmatic representative of the Orthodox faith. She discusses how some Orthodox writers, such as Mr. Lossky or Met. Ware, maintain that Palamism is Orthodox dogma. However, other Orthodox writers (Fr. Schmemann, Mr. Aghiorgoussis, Fr. Florovsky, Fr. Bulgakov) maintain Palamism as important to Orthodox theology, but not as dogma. Still other Orthodox systematic theologians (Trempélas, Karmiris, Pomazansky, Staniloae) hardly even mention Palamas at all—even in theological manuals written for ordinands. She concludes by agreeing with Met. Ware in saying that there is an “inherent difficulty [in] asking those who were not participants in a council to accept its decrees.”[41]
However, Dr. Chryssavgis is not convinced by this argument from ambiguity. “Any ‘ambiguity in Orthodoxy’ (149) merely reflects the unsystematic methodology and inconsistent terminology of patristic and contemporary Orthodox sources.”[42] The unfortunate fact, however, is that the divisions among Christians have been caused precisely by such inconsistency. Any ecumenical reconciliation necessitates some sort of systematic method and consistent terminology. Furthermore, if the inconsistency within Chalcedonian Orthodoxy can be forgiven by Orthodox, can they also forgive the inconsistent terminology and methodology when compared with Latin Christendom? They have done as much for the Miaphysites.
Dr. Chryssavgis does commend, however, Dr. Williams’ use of a distinction between conciliar intention and terminology as a possible means of reconciliation (which Prof. Chryssavgis points out is admitted also by St. Palamas). This is the alternative to the error of doctrine development. If the terminology of a certain local council (especially one whose authority is not ecumenical) does not appear at face value to reconcile with the decisions of other councils, the answer is not to find in it immediate evidence of heresy. Rather, delving into the intentions of the council, behind the words, should be used to construe it according to its base intentions. Then we will be in a position to correctly judge whether it is equivalent to another. Dr. Williams, I believe, presents a model approach which is erudite and exhaustive. Dr. Bradshaw, as I have said, does not appear to match this objectivity.
When Dr. Bradshaw critiques Dr. Williams, he states that although Aquinas’ grace is indeed spoken of as a “partaking of the divine nature,” and thus a deification, “that does not erase the very considerable differences between the two authors in their understanding of what deification is and how it occurs.”[43] This “considerable difference,” Dr. Bradshaw writes, lies in St. Thomas’ “sharp” distinction between deification in this life and the life to come, the only taste of the latter being when the worshipper “transcends the senses.” This is Dr. Bradshaw’s contention that Thomistic deification does not include the body in this life, as we mentioned above. Dr. Bradshaw claims that Aquinas’ assertion is radically anti-body, and that Palamas’ use of the term “uncreated light” is the way in which the body is deified. Dr. Bradshaw finds it “surprising” that Mrs. Williams does not focus on this “for this is surely one of the crucial differences between them.”[44]
It is unfortunate again, that Mr. Bradshaw seem reluctant to entertain plausible ways that his objections can be resolved. For example, Thomas puts great emphasis (which Mrs. Williams brings out) on the Imago Dei in Man and Woman as a point for deification. It is through this Image of God that “humanity is bound intimately to God through knowledge and love, which is a participation in the divine Trinity’s own life.”[45] The body could be implied since God created the Imago Dei not as disembodied spirits, but as fully enfleshed. Dr. Bradshaw, however, seems to contend that the Thomistic anthropology is primarily disembodied. Is this really his assertion, or does he simply lay greater emphasis on transcending the flesh, as many patristic writers (including the New Testament) do? Would Mr. Bradshaw, for instance, misinterpret the troparion of the greatest penitent of the eastern tradition, St. Mary of Egypt? “By example and precept thou didst teach us to ignore the body because it is perishable, and to attend to the concerns of the undying soul. Therefore, doth thy soul rejoice with the angels.” Perhaps Aquinas’ lack of emphasis on the body is similar to St. Mary’s troparion. It never explicitly denies it, but it is understood within the context of ascetic spiritual discipline. Dr. Bradshaw seems to liken Thomist anthropology to Gnosticism.
A more contentious claim that Dr. Williams makes is this: “for the distinction [of essence/energies] not to constitute an impediment [to ecumenical reconciliation], it would have to be either nominal, or not dogma in the fundamental sense (i.e., binding on all Christians), or both.”[46] This is because the concept of divine simplicity precludes the possibility that God is composed into parts. She points out how Mr. Lossky and Fr. Meyendorff disagree on this point, the former maintaining that essence and energies are truly a real division in God and the latter that they are not.[47] Dr. Williams thinks that since two very “careful” readers of Palamas can read him differently is evidence that the question is far from closed. She pushes, therefore, for a reading of the distinction as only a nominal reality in God.
Dr. Bradshaw, however, states that this claim “will not bear scrutiny.” He asserts that this is untenable for a number of reasons. First, whereas Dr. Williams points out what Palamas does not say in claiming essence/energies as a “reality” like the hypostaseis/ousia distinction, Dr. Bradshaw responds by asserting what the saint does say when he explicitly affirms that the energies exist extra-mentally. Further, the Metropolitan of Thessaloniki gives ἐνέργεια attributes “that could not possibly belong to the ousia,” such as plurality and transience.
This is truly a difficult problem. Is the essence and energies distinction a part of God’s essence? In other words, is this distinction who God is? If so, then one would know His essence, which is impossible according to the Palamite terminology. But I do not think this is what Palamas wants to say. Instead of introducing the distinction in this way, a better way for clarity might be this: there is God’s essence. Then there is God’s essence insofar as we can partake of it, aided by His grace. We can truly partake of the divine nature, but we cannot become God, only ‘gods.’ Thus by definition there must be a distinction in God in this way. Is this a real distinction or only nominal? This question is wrapped in the mystery of the divine Persons and their love for each other, and the simultaneous identification of them—the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—with Him: the Holy Trinity, one God. We cannot comprehend the mystery of this love, for it is by definition paradoxical. But we can know His divine life of love. The reality of His essence—the Trinity—is incomprehensible, but somehow we ‘see’ it, and ‘participate’ in it. Thus we know God’s essence, but we do not know it to become it. The essence/energy distinction must be real, because our participation in God without apotheosis is real—but it must be real in a way that is beyond our comprehension. We must partake of God, but at the same time not partake of God. We must do x and also not do x at the same time. This is reality. This distinction is beyond our comprehension, but is nonetheless true. Perhaps if we think this way the nominal/real debate can be reconciled to a both/and distinction rather than an either/or. The Catholics, moreover, are bound to confess the simplicity of God and any “real” distinction must be understood in a sense which does not compromise God’s Simplicity.
In any case, Dr. Williams completes her survey of the essence/energies distinction with these words, which Mr. Chryssavgis applauds: the essence and energies distinction “dissolves before the face of the One it describes and …ultimately serves.”[48] We must keep in mind that the distinction is meant to aid our own deification, not a philosophical argument.
Synergy
Dr. Bradshaw maintains that synergy is the crucial concept for this discussion. First, he sets up a false distinction by claiming that
If one were to summarize the differences between the western traditions in a single word, that word would be ‘synergy.’ For the East the highest form of communion with the divine is not primarily an intellectual act, but a sharing of life and activity.[49]
This false distinction is nearly intolerable. First, what does he mean by “not primarily an intellectual act?” Is he claiming that the East does not know the God with whom they share life and activity? Of course not. He is claiming that we “know the unknowable”—through the uncreated energies. Is he claiming that the West only teaches that we know God through our minds? This seems to be the case, which approaches a claim that the west does not have a sacramental life. Let the reader judge for himself.
Second, the term ‘synergy’ is a Greek word. With all due respect to the Kansas professor, is it not unreasonable to demand that the Latin tradition should develop around a Greek term? Dr. Bradshaw admits that “Latin offered no terms as suitable as energeia and its cognates for situating the notion of synergy within a broad metaphysical context.”[50] Is Mr. Bradshaw prepared to claim that because the Latin tradition is Latin it is therefore unorthodox? If so, is this anything other than the same old prejudice as Photios? Mr. Bradshaw admits that Augustine has other Latin concepts like “illumination” which are able to more readily reconcile with eastern concepts, but he chooses not to discuss them. Why is this, Mr. Bradshaw?
Besides ignoring the great spiritual sages in the west like Ambrose, Benedict, Cassian, Isidore, Bede, Bonaventure, Juan de la Cruz, François de Sales, Terésa de Avíla, and the western spiritual masterpieces de Imitatione Christi and Il combattimento spirituale (both of which were explosive bestsellers in the east), Dr. Bradshaw’s analysis of Aquinas fails to the convince the reader that he is truly approaching the sources objectively. As we said, Mr. Bradshaw uses only Augustine and Aquinas to speak monolithically of “the west.” In the east, he analyzes Athanasios, Basil, Gregory Nyssa, Gregory Nazianzen, Dionysios, Maximos, Evagrios, the Desert Fathers, Ioannes Damaskinos, Symeon the New Theologian, and finally Gregory Palamas. Dr. Bradshaw fails to show the reader that his comparative analysis is superior to a polemical straw man.
This allows him to make hollow claims about contradictions without a corresponding analysis exhaustive enough to succeed. Dr. Bradshaw writes, for example, concerning Aquinas’ terms of infused, created grace:
What does Aquinas mean by “infusion”? The term itself suggests an extrinsic relationship, one in which God as efficient cause bestows something distinct from Himself upon the creature.[51]
Why does Mr. Bradshaw ask a question, instead of trying to answer it by an in-depth analysis? This statement appears to reveal Dr. Bradshaw’s bias because it is attempting to understand Thomistic concepts in terms of eastern concepts. Of course the concept of “created grace infused” in the creature will sound extrinsic if one is thinking in terms of Palamite essence and energies! This is the error of development of doctrine.
Palamist deification terms and Thomist deification terms seem to have different purposes, that’s why they have different emphases. Palamas’ goal seems to have been to safeguard the real union of the creature with his Creator, and thus he maintained the uncreated nature of grace as God Himself, dwelling in the creature. He was ambiguous, however, on how the will of the creature interacts with the Creator—does the Creator do all the work, or the creature? Mrs. Williams points out repeatedly how Palamas openly says one and then the other, contradicting himself. But Dr. Williams does not consider this a weakness, but considers the context. The Pelagian debate was never an issue in the east, and thus Palamas has no problem saying both paradoxically. Because the Greek tradition is ambiguous on this point, it does not mean it is heretical. It means it is not Latin. Since the goal of Palamism is to safeguard true union with God, it is enough to teach that the energies of God are uncreated, not to consider Latin theological concerns.
When Dr. Williams explicates Thomistic created grace, she shows how this Latin theological concern works within Thomas’ doctrine of deification. She speaks about how Peter Lombard taught that the Holy Spirit united with the creature by indwelling, while Thomas preferred the term infusion. But instead of making unsympathetic claims about ambiguities in Aquinas like Dr. Bradshaw, Mrs. Williams tries to delve deeper into Thomas’ motivations. She asserts that Thomas’ goal is to
maintain the closest possible union between God and humanity while at the same time keeping firmly separated Uncreated and created. He does not seem to intend by caritas causata [created love] that what is infused into the human person differs somehow (essentially for example) from the charity that is the Divine Essence—at least, he fails to draw the kind of distinction between the two that one might expect, given his predilection for distinctions. His intention seems rather to insist that the human person remains a creature, even though simultaneously a participant in divine nature.[52]
In other words, the creature must not be controlled by the divine nature with in which he partakes, but must still be free, though divinely empowered. In this context, it seeks to balance between Pelagian self-salvation and Muhammadan fatalism.
Thomas distinguishes between the kind of causality existing between God and soul on the one hand [uncreated] and between the soul and the body on the other [recreated]…the divine agent who is the source of grace does not by gracious action obliterate the human person but respects her integrity and finite status, working within her according to the form proper to her.[53]
The human person cannot reach to God alone. God’s uncreated grace comes to Man and recreates the ability to reach to God—creating new power in the person to reach to God. Then the person is still free to love God, but now is, through an infusion of created grace, empowered to act. Palamas would certainly not say that God’s uncreated energies force the believer to love God. Rather, they empower the worshipper. How does this happen? Palamas does not answer this, because Pelagianism is not on his mind. Aquinas does.
Let us lay this out clearly:
1. Problem: we must find a way to explain the ineffable mystery of partaking of God Himself—being perfected, divinized human beings—without becoming God Himself. 2. Greg’s Greek terminology, wishing especially to emphasize divine participation, uses the term ἐνέργεια to mean God insofar as He can be possessed and known by creatures, and the term οὐσία to mean God insofar as He cannot be possessed and known by creatures. 3. Tom’s Latin terminology, wishing especially safeguard a balance of the human will vis-à-vis the divine will, uses the term gratia to speak about God’s recreation of man so that he can partake of God’s love—which is God Himself. This created gratia is infused into the person by God Himself—uncreated grace. 4. Thus, Greg uses Greek to say that we become gods but are not God, and Tom uses Latin to say that we become gods but are not God.
In any event, a simple reading of the New Catholic Encyclopedia under the terms “Grace-Created, Uncreated” reveal that the west has received both Lombard’s indwelling of the uncreated Spirit, and Aquinas infusion of recreated divine empowerment. It is sad, therefore, that this caricature of the west is maintained.
The More Extravagant Claims of Dr. Bradshaw
Dr. Bradshaw’s prejudices unfortunately do not end with these false distinctions and errors. He completes his book by stating that the western tradition is unsound “as far back as Augustine…our entire view of history will have to change.” He then agrees with the Enlightenment critique of western Christendom—that it offers an incomprehensible, self-contradictory God. He continues with such intolerable statements as these:
The east has no concept of God. It views God not as an essence to be grasped intellectually, but as a personal reality known through His acts, and above all by oneself sharing in those acts.[54]
He states that the east has no “concept” of the divine, and then in the next sentence explains the east’s “concept” of God, making a false distinction between intellectual knowledge and love. He goes on to claim that this leads the East to view asceticism correctly “not as a way to discipline the body, but as contributing to an ongoing deification of the whole person, body as well as soul.” Another false distinction with an implicit charge of Gnosticism towards the west, that the west believes that the body is not sanctified, or the temple of the Holy Spirit—or that “discipline of the body” can be separated from “deification of the whole person.” He even makes the false distinction that “for the East morality is not primarily a matter of conformance to law…it is matter of coming to know God by sharing in His acts and manifesting His image.” Is he prepared to claim that there are no moral laws in the east? Of course not. In light of Aquinas’ emphasis on God’s image recreated in man, or the spiritual western masterpiece Imitation of Christ, these statements leave the reader in dismay. Mr. John Casey of the Northeastern Illinois University writes that the conclusion of Mr. Bradshaw “hardly seems warranted” and calls Mr. Bradshaw’s striking polemic an “argumentative conclusion” which is a “weakness.”[55]
Mr. Adrian Guiu of the University of Chicago Divinity School points out that “often the picture painted of East-West relations is too stark,” and goes on:
It is too much to say that “the Eastern tradition is fundamentally sound,” and “the Western tradition was unsound as far back as Augustine” (p.275). One cannot account for the social upheavals and philosophical polemic in the West just by pointing to the relative autonomy of the natural realm. One may retort that in Orthodoxy the ethics of every day life has been marginalized because of the focus on union with the divine. Eastern Christianity is not an idyllic paradise. One should not forget the problematic intermixture of religion and politics in Eastern Europe.[56]
Mr. Guiu’s critique brings more balance to Dr. Bradshaw by mentioning some of the weaknesses in the east and the need for both sides to help each other. There is no parallel in the east, for instance, of the developed Catholic social teaching. Recognizing this, however, should not be a moment of triumphalism, but of charity. This is a more objective approach along the lines of Mrs. Williams’ irenicism.
But Mr. Bradshaw continues:
It is striking, in this connection [of asceticism], that the long western tradition of lay resistance to the clerical enforcement of morals had no real analogue in the east. One finds nothing like the goliardic poetry and the courtly love movement of the Middle Ages, much less the studied worldliness of authors such as Boccaccio.[57]
Dr. Bradshaw says that this is because of “the varying extent to which East and West had succeeded in incorporating the whole person within their conception of the human good.” This commits the doctrine development error. The west was filled with barely literate barbarians who found street rape to be an amusing pastime, while the Greeks at least had civilization to create an assumed “enforcement of morals.” A basic sympathetic reading would grasp this context. But notwithstanding this context, the situation in Vladimiran Kiev was not much better than the Barbarian west, and did not improve dramatically for centuries. But instead of looking at the context, Mr. Bradshaw attempts to force unfair comparisons.
And he goes on:
As for persecution and religious war, it is also striking that the major institutions and movements that embodied them in the West, such as the Crusades, the military orders, and the Inquisition, all arose after the schism. The bafflement and revulsion felt by the Byzantines toward the Crusaders is well known. Persecutions certainly did occur in the East, but they tended to be initiated by the imperial government and to follow the old Roman pattern of attempts by the government to maintain its own supremacy.[58]
Again, Mr. Bradshaw is sympathetic to one side and not the other. He overlooks the instances of ruthless religious persecutions in the east—Miaphysites, Old Believers—using the word “tended” and, in an unfortunate obscurantism, uses the morally superior word “bafflement” and “revulsion” to avoid mentioning the fratricidal decadence and deceit of the eastern Christians during the Crusades (while admitting that the eastern Christian state remained highly influenced by paganism). Dr. Jean-Yves calls these claims simply “untenable.”[59]
But Mr. Bradshaw is not finished:
I leave it to the reader to recall all the bloody wars and revolutions, the hatred, arrogance, and philosophical despair of the nineteenth century. From the standpoint of the East the whole story falls sadly into place. The Enlightenment attacked scholasticism, but left untouched rationalist ideology; it attacked oppressive morality, but left untouched the alienation of the body from the soul; it attacked sectarian strife, but left untouched the deeper wellspring of hatred…Let us now ask whether the God who has been the subject of so much strife and contention throughout western history was ever anything more than an idol.[60]
Dr. Bradshaw’s forced generalizations turn into open assault with caricatures of the west, incurably infected with “oppressive morality…the alienation of the body from the soul…sectarian strife…wellspring of hatred,” which ultimately is only the worship of an “idol.”
Mr. Marc-Antoine Gavray, otherwise positive in his review of Dr. Bradshaw, writes that it is “a shame that he ends with this note.” Dr. Jean-Yves states that Mr. Bradshaw’s final remarks are “shocking in terms of scholarship and does no honor to its author.” The frenchman notes how Mr. Bradshaw has been helped by Western scholarship of the East, and thus Mr. Bradshaw’s
epilogue, therefore, is a good proof that, whereas Western theology has learnt to read Greek theology sympathetically for a very long time and is generally ambidextrous, the ‘Eastern perspective’ remains narrow and overcrowded with prejudices. It is an alarming fact that a scholar like Dr B., who knows perfectly well how to write conceptual history, is unable to perceive that a deep-rooted prejudice is nonetheless a prejudice.[61]
Jean-Yves, though, does admit that the west’s dissociation of the “systematic” with the “Spiritual” has been “fateful” in the west (although he also claims that this has been overcome). “Dr. B.’s ‘Eastern perspective,’” he says, in any case, “is the wrong one to have an intelligent look at the west.”[62] Dr. Redde-Gallwitz sums up the feeling of many of the scholarly reviewers when he says “As a survey of energeia, this book is recommended; for an account of ‘the division of Christendom,’ one should look to something less dominated by partisanship.”[63]
The Deeper Questions
The more disturbing implications of Mr. Bradshaw’s anti-Latin, anti-Augustine thesis is this: that God inspired and equipped the Greek east with the intellectual tools for orthodoxy but, through some fault of God’s providence, the Latin west was incapable of the same orthodox faith. This turns the Latin Fathers into an impoverished substitute for the east, and questions God’s providence. Therefore I believe we should concur with Mr. Bradshaw’s reviewers in taking the good scholarship of ἐνέργεια but not allowing his claims about the west to go uncorrected. Scholars should not be able to pass over these regressive prejudices without harsh criticism from objective and moderate voices. That is why I believe Dr. Williams has done a fine job in opening up this for further discussion. Her whole work is recommended as a valiant effort towards bringing the two great traditions together within the one Holy Tradition. If we offer fervent prayers to the Mother of God, we can have hope that she will dispel all of these “word webs of the Athenians”[64] and grant us peace and unity.
—Bibliography
Adrian Guiu. Review of Aristotle East and West, by David Bradshaw. Anglican Theological Review 88, no. 4 (2006): 620 Andrew Redde-Gallwitz. Review of Aristotle East and West, by David Bradshaw. Journal of the History of Philosophy 45, no. 3 (2007): 493-494 Bradshaw, David. Aristotle East and West: Metaphysics and the Division of Christendom. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004 David Bradshaw. Review of The Ground of Union, by W. N. Williams. Journal of the History of Philosophy 38, no. 4 (2000): 586-588 G. R. Evans. Review of The Ground of Union, by W. N. Williams. Journal of theological studies 51, no. 2 (2000): 759 Jean-Yves Lacoste. Review of Aristotle East and West, by David Bradshaw. International Journal of the Classical Tradition 13, no. 3 (2007): 437-442 John Chryssavgis. Review of The Ground of Union, by W. N. Williams. Theological studies (Baltimore) 61, no. 2 (2000): 361 John Casey. Review of Aristotle East and West, by David Bradshaw. The Sixteenth Century Journal 38, no. 2 (2007): 495-496 L. J. Elders. Review of Aristotle East and West, by David Bradshaw. The Review of Metaphysics 33, no. 2 (2005): 409-410 Marc-Antoine Gavray. Review of Aristotle East and West, by David Bradshaw. L’Antiquité Classique 75 (2006): 372-373 Patrick Madigan. Review of Aristotle East and West, by David Bradshaw. The Heythrop Journal 48, no. 1 (2007): 121-122 W. N. Williams. The Ground of Union: Deification in Palamas. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999 [1]Certain Latin theologians, at the time of Ss. Cyril and Methodios (c. 860) embraced the error of trilingualism, that the divine services must be celebrated in only three languages—Latin, Greek, or Hebrew. [2]The popular Greco-Spanish Renaissance painter, “El Greco” comes to mind [3]Unitatis Redintegratio 3; “[The Papacy] constitutes a difficulty for most other Christians, whose memory is marked by certain painful recollections. To the extent that we are responsible for these, I join my Predecessor Paul VI in asking forgiveness.” Ut Unum Sint 88 [4]See Dr. Kalmiris “River of Fire” (accessible online) or Fr. A. James Bernstein’s Surprised By Christ [5]Mr. Bradshaw does admit this on p. 207. David Bradshaw, Aristotle East and West: Metaphysics and the Division of Christendom, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004) [6]G. R. Evans, review of The Ground of Union, by W. N. Williams, Journal of theological studies 51, no. 2 (2000): 759 [7]David Bradshaw, review of The Ground of Union, by W. N. Williams, Journal of the History of Philosophy 38, no. 4 (2000): 586-588 [8]Bradshaw, Aristotle East and West, x, xi [9]Lloyd P. Gerson, University of Toronto, on the dust jacket of Aristotle East and West [10]Andrew Redde-Gallwitz, review of Aristotle East and West, by David Bradshaw, Journal of the History of Philosophy 45, no. 3 (2007): 493-494 [11]Marc-Antoine Gavray, review of Aristotle East and West, by David Bradshaw, L’Antiquité Classique 75 (2006): 372-373 [12]John Casey, review of Aristotle East and West, by David Bradshaw, The Sixteenth Century Journal 38, no. 2 (2007): 496 [13]Jean-Yves Lacoste, review of Aristotle East and West, by David Bradshaw, International Journal of the Classical Tradition 13, no. 3 (2007): 437 [14]W. N. Williams, The Ground of Union: Deification in Palamas, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 25 [15]Ibid., 9 [16]Ibid., 10 n47 [17]Ibid., 12 [18]Ibid., 17 [19]Bradshaw, Aristotle East and West, x, xi [20]Ibid., 229 [21]Andrew Redde-Gallwitz. Review of Aristotle East and West, by David Bradshaw. Journal of the History of Philosophy 45, no. 3 (2007): 494 [22]Jean-Yves, 440 [23]Redde-Gallwitz, 494 [24]Casey, 496; Radde-Gallwitz, 493 [25]Bradshaw, Aristotle East and West, 242 [26]Williams, 158 [27]Especially Dionysios and Damskos, Bradshaw, Aristotle East and West, 246ff. [28]Ibid., 254 [29]Williams, 75 [30]Ibid. [31]Williams, 78 [32]Ibid., 79 [33]Bradshaw, Aristotle East and West, 256 [34]L. J. Elders, review of Aristotle East and West, by David Bradshaw, The Review of Metaphysics 33, no. 2 (2005): 410 [35]Bradshaw, Aristotle East and West, 255 [36]Ibid., 256; one would wish that Dr. Bradshaw could receive communion and pray the Eucharistic devotions of St. Thomas, and maintain his accusation of pride against Aquinas [37]Ibid., 254 [38]Mr. Redde-Gallowitz sharply contends Mr. Bradshaw’s reading of the Cappadocians, stating that they did not identify the ἐνέργεια with the eternal properties of God, but merely said that knowledge of God cannot come to Humanity except through ἐνέργεια. Mr. Redde-Gallowitz points out that the eternal properties of God—His infinity, etc.—are predicated by the Cappadocians of the divine οὐσία, which Mr. Bradshaw maintains is unknowable according to the Palamite system. Further, Mr. Bradshaw fails to address recent scholarship concerning St. Nyssa’s use of the middle term δύναμις, and misreads St. Basil as saying that the ἐνέργεια have a beginning, whereas St. Basil states that the act of creation is the beginning of time itself. Mr. Patrick Madigan of Heythrop college takes issue with Mr. Bradshaw’s reading of the Philosophical development of the west, stating that Mr. Bradshaw fails to appreciate the insights of Duns Scotus and Aquinas in reconciling the Aristotelian final cause and the Scriptural efficient cause. He suggests that “in papering over the difficulties posed by the ‘Parmenidean’ convention of divine immobility and the necessary self-preoccupation of the deity which the philosophic tradition insisted upon, perhaps the East missed a challenge that was really there, which the West later engaged and met successfully” (Patrick Madigan, review of Aristotle East and West, by David Bradshaw. The Heythrop Journal 48, no. 1 (2007): 122) Prof. Jean-Yves, moreover, criticizes Dr. Bradshaw for constructing a monolithic understanding of the East’s supposed rejection of the filioque, stating that it is “well known that the Filioque was acceptable to Maximus Confessor, and that ‘monopatrism’ was, later, the unaided innovation of Photius.” (Jean-Yves, 440) [39]Williams, 127 [40]Jean-Yves, 441 [41]Williams, 151 [42]John Chryssavgis, review of The Ground of Union, by W. N. Williams, Theological studies (Baltimore) 61, no. 2 (2000): 363 [43]David Bradshaw, review of The Ground of Union [44]Ibid., 587 [45]Williams, 158 [46]Ibid., 151 [47]Ibid., 152 [48]Williams, 156 [49]Bradshaw, Aristotle East and West, 265 [50]Ibid. [51]Ibid., 253 [52]Williams, 81ff. [53]Ibid., 88 [54]Bradshaw, Aristotle East and West, 275 [55]Casey, 496 [56]Adrian Guiu, review of Aristotle East and West, by David Bradshaw, Anglican Theological Review 88, no. 4 (2006): 621 [57]Bradshaw, Aristotle East and West, 276 [58]Ibid. [59]Jean-Yves, 441 [60]Ibid., 277 [61]Jean-Yves, 440 [62]Ibid. [63]Redde-Gallwitz, 494 [64]Akathist Hymn to the Theotokos Placeat tibi, Sancta Trinitas.
A Few Words on Fasting, Pt. 3

By Nathaniel Richards
Notes from The Didache
There is a short document from the first century which was a liturgical manual of sorts called The Didache, or The Teaching of the Twelve (Apostles, that is). I refer to it because I believe it is a handy primer/quick reference to what the earliest of Christians were doing and expected to do concerning fasting and penance. I would also like to think it helpful to us Western Christians in the twenty-first century in our attempt to get back to basics. I highly recommend you read the document for yourself.
Firstly, echoing our Lord who says, Love your enemies: do good to them that hate you: and pray for them that persecute and calumniate you (Mt. v. 44), the Didache admonishes Christians in this manner:
Bless those who curse you, and pray for your enemies, and fast for those who persecute you. For what reward is there, if you love those who love you? Do not also the Gentiles do the same? But love those who hate you, and you shall not have an enemy.
Fasting is not just ‘self-help’ for our spiritual lives, because it benefits others as well. It not only provices an avenue of expiating our own sins, but it is a way of making reparation for the sins of others. We need to fast for the conversion of our loved ones and for the sins of society, as well for those who are our enemies and wish us harm. If we do, who knows what might happen? The Lord might work a miracle in restoring or bringing someone to the Faith on account of the prayer that was our fasting. Therefore, we ought to fast for others—especially our enemies.
Secondly, the Didache has such a high view of the Sacrament of Baptism that it says “before the baptism” that the baptizer should “fast, and the baptized, and whatever others can; but you shall order the baptized to fast one or two days before.” It takes into account that in the saving laver of Baptism a supernatural mystery is unfolded, and that this grace-filled event deserves commensurate fasting from all involved.
I wonder what adopting this behavior as a norm would do to edify the Faith in our time. Indeed, while we Catholics still defend and have on the books that Baptism is an efficacious Sacrament, in many ways we have fallen into the errors of some of believing that Baptism is a mere symbol or public profession of Faith and no more. Baptism is for all and should be given to the littlest ones such as infants, but does it not usher us into the very fray of the battle that is spiritual warfare? It should not be regulated to a mere Rite of Passage or welcoming a child into a community. Baptism plunges us into Death, and we rise to New Life (Rom. vi. 4.). It is a work of Christ Himself and not something we do of our own. It is a circumcision of the heart that sets us apart from the world and makes us belong to Christ (Rom. ii. 29; Col. ii. 11-15). We ought to always prepare for Jesus the Bridegroom, and fasting before Holy Baptism is a way of doing exactly that. If we fast as Catholics at least one hour before Holy Communion (though it used to be much longer before the twentieth century), why not admonish our priests and converts to do so in an intentional way a few days before the Easter Vigil?
Finally, this is the main passage of what the Didache has to say about fasting:
But let not your fasts be with the hypocrites; for they fast on the second and fifth day of the week; but fast on the fourth day and the Preparation (Friday). Neither pray as the hypocrites; but as the Lord commanded in His Gospel, thus pray: Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be Your name. Your kingdom come. Your will be done, as in heaven, so on earth. Give us today our daily (needful) bread, and forgive us our debt as we also forgive our debtors. And bring us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one (or, evil); for Yours is the power and the glory forever. Thrice in the day thus pray.
Notice that the fasting recommended is habitual. An Apostolic norm of fasting is by practicing your fast on Wednesdays and Fridays. That is exactly what the Didache recommends. Furthermore, the virtue of Humility is present insomuch that the document tells us not to pray as hypocrites do…or mere things of our own invention, but the Our Father—the Lord’s Prayer. If we base our way of praying on Christ and align ourselves to Him in this way, I daresay we will make progress. For it is not on our own merit and devices alone that we will find victory, but in trusting in Jesus Christ Himself and what He has given us through His Bride—the Church.
Read the Didache and then read it again. It will help you in many more ways besides fasting.
—
Nathaniel Richards is a Catholic husband and father who lives in the Ozarks. He enjoys collecting Catholic books and promises that one day he will read most of them—eventually, maybe. Starting a Catholic bookstore that sells books rather than gifts is a dream of his. He converted from Oneness Pentecostalism to Anglicanism and eventually made his way to Catholicism in 2015.
The Supreme Court and the Destruction of America
A Few Words on Fasting Pt. 2

Editor’s note: for most Traditional Catholics, this week marks the September Embertide, which is a week which includes fasting and penance on Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. Read more about this custom here.
By Nathaniel Richards
Three Words to Keep in Mind
If we are squeamish about fasting, it is because it is a sacrificial behavior, which means something gets killed. Our attachment to earthly goods goes to the chopping block and dies. We do not play that video game or eat that extra cookie, or maybe we give up a day of scrolling through our Twitter feed. But what do we gain in addition to stronger spiritual muscles? Maybe weight loss. Maybe we are spared a headache and irritableness from not having stared at a screen for hours on end. Maybe we get extra time with our spouses or children that we would not have otherwise. Whatever the added benefit, it is important to not treat our ascetic decision as mere fad; something that flashes in a pan and is here today, gone tomorrow. Conversely, we cannot grow comfortable or lax in our penances or do the bare minimum the Church asks of us — especially considering how little the Church asks of us today. We must go beyond the modern “disciplines” such as giving up chocolate, or eating a fish sandwich. We need to do more — holiness demands it. We must adopt habitual mortification and penances, and continue certain disciplines outside of Lent. If we’re not doing our due diligence in this area, whatever we’re doing is pretty much worthless.
If you want to develop a true habit of fasting, I propose to the reader three words: Gradualism, Humility, and Perseverance.
First off, gradualism. Whatever you do, you’re going to have to build up to your goal in gradually, especially if you’ve done nothing or haven’t tried to fast before. While you may want to stop eating altogether on a Friday, you will find yourself tempted to eat more and more if you stop eating cold turkey. No pun on eating cold poultry intended, but perhaps you could start by abstinence from meat on Fridays instead. Start eating meatless meals on Fridays for at least a month or two, and then perhaps have one Friday a month where you eat much less. If it works out, maybe try two Fridays in a month. Or maybe you can take a cue from Apostolic precedent, starting to practice abstinence from meat on both Wednesdays and Fridays as a norm. Always take your individualized health concerns to mind as you begin to implement something habitual, and don’t overdo it — you want stepping stones, not a wobbly jump across the creek that risks you wiping out downstream.
Furthermore, we must consider the virtue of humility. Sometimes when we are inspired to do something more for the Lord, we bite off more than we can chew. If you neglect the principle of gradualism, you will attempt too much. But you cannot start wearing hair shirts if you cannot refrain from BBQing brats on a Friday night. It wouldn’t be prudent nor would it really be effective as you have no penitential foundation. When you take on harder penances or even think of taking a vow for a specific discipline, you need to talk to a spiritual director — preferably a priest, and one that is also your pastor and confessor. However, be forewarned: any progress you make or success you have will not be instant.
In addition we must develop a spirit of perseverance. I say this because you will most likely fail in some of your efforts. That is, you will find it a rule that whenever you settle upon something to give to the Lord via penance/fasting, the Enemy will throw various obstacles of temptation in your path. You will cave at various points and make exceptions and excuses. The candy bar will be in front of you and suddenly you will go from a determination of “I will not eat any sweets today” to “I will have a small nibble, but no more,” to “Well, I will only have one candy bar today.” We fallen creatures normally work this way in trying to rationalize our deviations from discipline. Do not lose heart, If you fall, allow the Lord to pick you back up again. Divergence from a discipline that was a goal of yours is only a momentary setback. Be resourceful by frequenting the Sacrament of Confession to give you the needed graces of resolution. Then full steam ahead. Charge. It is a battle, after all—you must not be a deserter.
——-
Nathaniel Richards is a Catholic husband and father who lives in the Ozarks. He enjoys collecting Catholic books and promises that one day he will read most of them—eventually, maybe. Starting a Catholic bookstore that sells books rather than gifts is a dream of his. He converted from Oneness Pentecostalism to Anglicanism and eventually made his way to Catholicism in 2015.
A Few Words on Fasting, Pt. 1

By Nathaniel Richards
For you have not yet resisted unto blood, striving against sin (Heb. xii. 4)
While Satan—the Enemy of our soul—is not God and cannot be everywhere at once, he never sleeps or takes a vacation. At all hours, somewhere in the world he and the other foul spirits in his ranks are hard at work—trying to destroy souls so they may not serve Almighty God. Besides striving to ensure the faithless stay deprived of God, the Enemy also does his due diligence to try to see how many casualties he can inflict in the Army of the Lord Jesus. This army consists of those of us who are still working out our salvation with “fear and trembling” on earth in the Church Militant (Philip ii. 12). Temptation and the allure of the world, the flesh, and the Devil always blip on the radar of a Christian soul. Throughout our whole lives, we are in unrelenting battle against this triumvirate of vice; granted, we might be afforded periods of repose, but we can expect no lasting peace in this life. I have written the battle that faces Christians elsewhere, in this piece I would like to begin a series to address the “how” of our battle — ways we can begin to fight.
The Problem of Beginning
Brethren in Christ, we must begin to wage battle by fasting and doing penance. This is the way of the saints, the way of the Faith of our Fathers. Prophets, Apostles, and Our Lord Himself fasted and therefore have set a biblical precedent for the practice in our own day. By abstaining from the things we enjoy or require for nourishment, we are shown the things that are more important than physical health—namely, the things that will feed and sustain our souls. We must hunger for sanctity; truly, we must allow these pangs of ascetic discipline to hone our focus on what God wants from us. In diverting our gaze from the world and departing from its noise, we become attuned to the silence where the Triune God speaks. For as Elijah found out, the Lord often speaks in a still, small voice (III Kngs xix. 11-13). We must stop and listen, yes, but also in this silence our soul learns to converse. Fasting helps us to do this.
Fasting is a basic form of prayer. It teaches us how to pray and is a foundation for greater contemplation, and is valuable and essential. Without it, our defenses as Christians are lowered. We need to survive spiritually—lest we die in the shipwreck of sloth and acedia.
It should not come as a shock that in the West we Christians have largely forgotten how to fast. Our defenses against the Enemy are compromised. The normative ways of penance that previous generations of Catholics practiced are at present a footnote in history; out of sight and out of mind. The old disciples appear quaint and odd-sounding to our ears when we do hear of them. Especially in the United States, we have forgotten that Fridays are when the Church abstains from meat and are the default days for penance. Yes, the US Bishops have said that you can do an alternative penance on Friday…but do we fulfill this obligation? Abstaining from meat is hard, and therefore something equally as difficult must be done instead. I would venture that very few Catholics do, or even know to do this. As a result, our armor is shoddy—our souls exposed to the fiery darts of the Evil One because we do not arm ourselves with the Tradition of the Church in this regard (Eph. vii. 16). Both our ignorance and apathy have done us in.
Perhaps you might think my assessment of the present-day Catholicism bleak. Perhaps you might think I am overly dramatic. I doubt that I am, though. And believe my doubt is well-founded, especially as I look to the Faith of the Fathers and to Sacred Tradition. Compared to the Catholics of old and our Fathers in ages past, we are spiritual infants. Our spiritual muscles are weak and flabby. We are effeminate and soft, as my fellow MOC contributor Kennedy Hall says in his book Terror of Demons and lack physical and spiritual fortitude. The Giants of Catholic Tradition are looking at all of us eating a double cheeseburger on Friday and—I use this phrase not irreverently, I hope, but to make a point—saying, “Bro, do you even lift?”
Nah. We really don’t. Not like they did—not at all.
It is not too late, though. God has given us Grace and the tools of the Church to help our souls commune with Him.
In my next piece we will discuss further some practical measures to enact the principles of fasting in our lives.
—
Nathaniel Richards is a Catholic husband and father who lives in the Ozarks. He enjoys collecting Catholic books and promises that one day he will read most of them—eventually, maybe. Starting a Catholic bookstore that sells books rather than gifts is a dream of his. He converted from Oneness Pentecostalism to Anglicanism and eventually made his way to Catholicism in 2015.
Conservative/Trad Dialogue: Reply to Dave Armstrong

Dear Dave,
In a recent post you replied to my discussion of some of the fundamental questions at play in the debate about Vatican II on the level of philosophy and the level of history. First I will admit for the sake of the debate that I have not responded with corresponding rigor to your answer of mine regarding Newman, which I thought was a very good reply, so that point is well taken. But let me summarize your assertions in that article in that Newman appears from your quotes there. He seems to say that he did not mean by “temporary suspension of the teaching Church” that anything absolute happened, but only that the Magisterium in some way was obscured, even though it was still acting in various ways, including a Roman synod. Is that a fair summation?
Another important point in this dialogue is to say that I do not call myself a traditionalist, nor do I call our apostolate traditionalist (please see the explanation why here). However, I do agree with some basic assertions of the “trad movement,” thus the use of the label in the title for the sake of summation. In your most recent response, you called me a radical Catholic reactionary in contrast to you as an orthodox Catholic. We already agreed that my confession of faith is almost completely acceptable to you, and we originally proceeded with a shared agreement of those basics. So perhaps you could clarify why you see me as not orthodox? Where have I ever asserted anything erroneous or heretical or ever said anything that was reactionary? I ask sincerely, as one hoping to be corrected as it is written, The way of life, to him that observeth correction: but he that forsaketh reproofs goeth astray (Prov. x. 17).
If I may say, my brother, I do think your labeling of me as a “reactionary” weakens your argument, because you seem to rely on a preliminary criticism of unknown comments of which I have no part, then an attack on a reasoning “as reactionaries do” to critique my argument, without mentioning or addressing the distinctions I made about causality both philosophical and historical.
The fundamental concept that I was addressing was about your assertion of causality in the fallacy of post hoc ergo propter hoc. I conceded this point, then contrasted the rejection of this fallacy with the skepticism of Hume. I’m happy to go into these different historical instances, but these concepts are the primary assertions I am making. I am attempting to answer the question: is it possible for a Council to fail?
I’m not sure you adequately faced the quote from Ratzinger, which says that the Council did not accomplish its intentions in so many words. I certainly concede that Ratzinger had no mind to reject the Council or assert that the Council was the cause of these things, but in this quote he is saying that the best intentions of the Council did not come about. In other words, the cause of the Council did not produce the desired effect, but the opposite occurred.
What was the cause of this crisis? I argued that it cannot be the Council on a philosophical level, since every Council is in some way an act of the Holy Spirit. But I said that the Council could be a cause on a historical level, since some Councils simply fail to address the situation adequately. Put another way, it is simply an assertion that we need another Magisterial Act such as an Ecumenical Council or something with binding force, since Vatican II has not worked, nor will it work for the future. This is my thesis. This does not mean that the Council was not an act of the Magisterium, but merely that the Magisterium needs to add some greater act for the situation to be resolved. The main point of my analogy with Lateran V is this:
Lateran V intended to address abuses
Voices at the council warned of dire consequences
These abuses were not corrected
***Then a sudden (but not completely unexpected) revolution wrecked havoc for souls***
An entirely new Magisterial Act—Trent—was necessary to address the crisis
Similiarly:
Vatican II intended to create a renewal based in part on optimism from John F. Kennedy and De Chardin, as Ratzinger admits
Fatima, Ottaviani and the original Schemas, and the Coetus warned that optimism was misplaced (despite the excellent things that are said in places like Gaudium et Spes as you note).
***Then a sudden (but not completely unexpected) sexual/Marxist/Feminist revolution wrecked havoc for souls***
My assertion: therefore a new Magisterial Act—analogous to Trent and its anathemas—is necessary to address the crisis
Councils and Magisterial Acts are generally called to address a current crisis. The real crisis (the sexual/Marxist/Feminist revolution) erupted after Vatican II. Therefore Vatican II cannot address the crisis which did not exist at the time of the Council. It would be similar to Catholics saying we should not call Trent to address Protestantism because we already have Lateran V. Or Catholics asserting we should not call Ephesus because we already have Nicaea.
My argument is the same as Dietrich von Hildebrand. He pleaded with St. Paul VI to condemn heresies, even drafting condemnations himself and giving them to him, but Papa Montini refused saying it was “too harsh.” The charitable anathema, as Hildebrand argues in the book of the same name, is the solution to our times as it has been for centuries. Nevertheless, this method was refused not only by Pope St. Paul VI, but also St. John Paul II and Benedict XVI, and certainly by Pope Francis. Moreover, this time-proven yet abandoned pastoral method was used effectively by two other saintly popes–Pius IX and Pius X–the latter of which was canonized by Ven. Pius XII specifically as a model for our times immediately before the Council (which is why Pius XII canonized him in a rush job). The traditionalist argument boils down to the assertion that Vatican II is inadequate to address the situation, and something traditional must address it: the charitable anathema, which has already proven effective in our times against what you admit is the greatest problem right now: Modernism.
As a corollary, as Hildebrand also argued, the New Mass has fundamental problems in its Latin texts in weakening the Tridentine emphasis on the Real Presence. Thus it failed to create a renewal, but rather the opposite occurred. It is so reactionary to say we should try something different at this point? You seem to assert that it is. Hildebrand argued that the New Mass should be abrogated and the Tridentine restored. This is not a schismatic, reactionary, irrational Pharisee assertion, as you forcefully assert, but a respectful plea to Holy Mother Church to use more effective means of saving souls—the anathema and the Latin Mass—means which have already proven themselves effective over centuries.
Perhaps you could clarify: do you regard Hildebrand as a traditionalist or a reactionary according to your definitions of those terms? My thought is greatly influenced by Von Hildebrand who, in my view, provides the most convincing arguments of any other writer in the 20th century crisis.
If I have misunderstood your argumentation please correct me, brother. Also, I admit my historical assertion about Lateran V and indulgences was made for memory, and I may have confused Lateran V with Lateran IV in that regard (these are corrections I definitely appreciate). I look forward to more conversation brother, and I hope you and your family are well.
In Jesus and Mary,
Timothy
Casting Your Cares

By Nathaniel Richards
God resisteth the proud, writes St. Peter, but to the humble he giveth grace (I Pt.v. 5).
Our Blessed Lord, when the fullness of time had come, did not deign to become Incarnate in the womb of a great earthly Queen or Empress who had many possessions or monetary riches; rather, by the power of the Holy Spirit and the Fiat spoken by a simple Hebrew maiden in Nazareth, He became man in poverty. Our Lady, though the Immaculate Conception, was schooled in humility and had nothing to be proud of in the eyes of the world. Indeed, Mary was Christ’s bridge or ladder from which He journeyed from Heaven to us. As He crossed this bridge to living in time, He lived in a school of humility with the Blessed Mother, alongside His foster-father St. Joseph—from whom He would learn the simple but honorable trade of carpentry. To many, He might not be given a second thought. As Nathanael says in St. John’s Gospel, Can any thing of good come from Nazaereth? (Jn. i. 46). St. Paul says of the Incarnation to the Corinthians: For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that being rich he became poor, for your sakes; that through his poverty you might be rich (II Cor. 8:9).
Indeed, there is a poverty we must imitate that can be found in the Way of the Lord. Without it, I dare say no man may have the hope of salvation. For this poverty is true humility—pure condescension. We sinful men did not deserve Almighty God living amongst us as one of us, let alone the Redemption won for us in the Holy Precious Blood-soaked Cross. Riches that are not laid up in Heaven cannot purchase this humility—it is a gift we receive that we must work out in our pilgrim journey. Indeed, it is something that does not necessarily come natural to us of our own, because it is not of our own device. Our Lord says, It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven (Mt. xix. 24).
Though it be hard, it is possible with God for the rich man to enter Heaven, but attachment to earthly things must end—the money and treasure must serve the Lord. If you are not willing to abandon them, sell what you have and give everything to the poor? In a word, give up all temporal things and comforts for His Kingdom, then no—you will not see Heaven. For you did not heed this Divine Command: Lay not up to yourselves treasures on earth: where the rust, and moth consume, and where thieves break through and steal. But lay up to yourselves treasures in heaven: where neither the rust nor moth doth consume, and where thieves do not break through, nor steal (Mt. vi. 20).
Earthly attachments through money or other treasures are often the cause of our unhappiness, if we are honest with ourselves. No amount of binge-watching on a streaming service or scrolling through social media will put our hearts at ease. No amount of education or financial success will make us truly happy. Our smartphones and our degrees have in some cases contributed to a terrible sadness. Therefore, we must not adore these things, but the True and Living God who fulfills us.
To illustrate this principle, consider what St. Paul told the Athenians:
For in him we live, and move, and are; as some also of your own poets said: For we are also his offspring. Being therefore the offspring of God, we must not suppose the divinity to be like unto gold, or silver, or stone, the graving of art, and device of man. And God indeed having winked at the times of this ignorance, now declareth unto men, that all should everywhere do penance (Acts xvii. 28-30).
Returning to St. Peter’s Epistle, the Apostle acknowledges that our cares and worries of this life often weigh upon us. They even induce much unneeded anxiety. Therefore he says, Be you humbled therefore under the mighty hand of God, that he may exalt you in the time of visitation: Casting all your care upon him, for he hath care of you (I Pt. v. 6-7). We must heed our cares and cast them upon the Lord lest they get the better of us. He can take it. He can take anything. And He must take it if we are to be made whole. At the Scourging at the Pillar, he took lashes on our behalf that we deserved (Is. liii. 5). St. Peter says that in the Passion, of Christ, that His own self bore our sins in his body upon the tree: that we, being dead to sins, should live to justice: by whose stripes you were healed (I Pt. ii. 24).
What cares must you cast upon the Lord? Everything. For Our Lord gave everything for you. And if we are to be His disciples and good sheep under a Good Shepherd, we must always entrust ourselves to His watchful care. He cares for us—there is nothing too little for Him, nothing too grand. He created the universe and sustains it—and by Providence sustains us, miserable sinners but His people all the same. And His Way? His humility that we must imitate comes to us chiefly in the Blessed Sacrament. The Holy Eucharist is the divine daily condescension to make man holy…we must avail ourselves of this Heavenly Manna in order to become like the poor God who, by joining our poverty, invites us to His everlasting wealth of Himself in Heaven. In this we prove St. Peter’s admonition that we were as sheep going astray; but you are now converted to the shepherd and bishop of your souls (I Pt. ii. 25).
In the end, we shall do no more casting of our possessions. Our cares in Heaven will be gone and there will be no tears shed, for God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes (Apoc. vii. 17). But we shall have crowns of glory, God willing. And like the four and twenty ancients, we shall fall down before him that sitteth on the throne, …and cast…crowns before the throne, saying: Thou art worthy, O Lord our God, to receive glory, and honour, and power: because thou hast created all things; and for thy will they were, and have been created (Apoc. iv. 10-11).
Let us not delay. Let us start casting our cares and anxieties upon Him today, so that we can spend eternity with Him. For He is worthy to receive glory, honor, and power—and we will give all these things back to Him forever soon enough, in a world without end.
Amen. Come quickly, Lord Jesus.
—
Nathaniel Richards is a Catholic husband and father who lives in the Ozarks. He enjoys collecting Catholic books and promises that one day he will read most of them—eventually, maybe. Starting a Catholic bookstore that sells books rather than gifts is a dream of his. He converted from Oneness Pentecostalism to Anglicanism and eventually made his way to Catholicism in 2015.
Whatever Built This Place is True – A Missourian Catholic On the Battle of St. Louis

By Nathaniel Richards
Satan and his minions are working overtime right now. As I type these words, Marxist-fueled forces are doing their best to assault the reputation of Catholic saints in the United States of America by erasing their memory from the culture by violence. Historical revisionism via anarchy, really. As of July 2020, the writing of this article, they have been successful in felling statues of St. Junípero Serra in California. An outrage and a sacrilege to be sure. There is a movement that is hitting closer to home for me, however, as I am a Missourian. The “woke” are wanting to rename St. Louis, Missouri—which was named after French king Louis IX—and take down his statue by the art museum in Forest Park. When this piece is published, I hope Divine Providence shall keep King Louis on his horse in the park, as it is his right as the patron saint of that city to be there. While I would hope tensions would calm and deescalate, I believe that we may be past that. Lines are being drawn and if we are to be truly Catholic—we must stand with the Lord—even it would mean persecution or death. We are to be crusaders for Christ, as Louis IX was.
St. Louis, Missouri has a special place in my heart because my personal encounter with that city has helped me in my conversion to the Faith. All I can do in my efforts here is to offer three vignettes of my encounter with the Faith in that city and then try to reflect upon what to make of what is currently transpiring in the headlines and in our streets. So, if you will indulge me, the next three episodes are my brush with Catholicism in St. Louis.
2012

I was not Catholic yet. I was preparing to be a senior in high school. Early August I was going on a family vacation to the Cancun area in Mexico. I was reading my way into a Trinitarian worldview, had some curiosity about the Church, but could not convert/inquire as I was living at that time with my dad who was a Oneness Pentecostal minister. I was still figuring things out. My Pentecostal mother who had civilly divorced my father was the one with whom I was going on vacation to Mexico. St. Louis was the airport city we stayed the night in. I had talked her into letting me visit the Cathedral Basilica of St. Louis before we flew out the next day.
I will never forget the awe I felt. I am sure people have gushed about cathedrals and architecture in a much more articulate way before and I don’t want to rehash clichés. All I can say was that my head was gaping up at the ceiling, drinking in the beautiful mosaics and symbols of the faith. Then and now, I had a silent conviction about such things: whatever built this place is True.
Don’t get me wrong, if you want to get legalistic and shallowly pious about the matter, one could say, “Oh, the Faith isn’t in a building. Jesus is everywhere! He’s just as much in the cathedral as much as He is in the woods!”
But really. In my seventeen-year-old mind, I wanted to know why I had never been exposed to such Beauty. Church buildings in my nascent religious tradition were a means to an end, a place where a stage was set up and a worship music concert and preaching could take place. They might have a steeple, but maybe not. What they were not was an obvious Temple to God like the Basilica was. Like walking into that building, seeing the mosaics of the various saints floating above you—you knew that Heaven was real and that people went there. You had a sense that the building was built for Someone and that Someone dwelt there.
At the Marian chapel at the Basilica, I lit a votive candle for the first time in my life. My silent petition to Our Lady was to make me a Catholic. I knew in my heart of hearts that it would still be quite a journey yet, but I wanted to be a part of something that was much bigger than I ever was. I wanted to be a part of the great Tradition of the Faith. I wanted to join that Cloud of Witnesses. I wanted to be a part of whatever built this thing. I didn’t really know who St. Louis IX fully was at the time, but I knew one thing. The Faith he espoused was True. His Church was likely the True Church.
Later on in Mexico, I saw Louis IX’s Faith on a smaller scale. There was a small chapel in the tourist town of Playa del Carmen that was open amidst all the vendors selling souvenirs. I walked in and saw an exposed monstrance on the altar. A lady was mopping the narthex area and drying the floor with an electric fan. I stayed at the back near the holy water fonts. Seeing the Eucharistic Lord, a thought liken unto “My Lord and my God!” came to me. I was in just as much awe as I was in the Basilica. I felt awkward because I wasn’t sure what to do. A humble mustached Mexican fellow dressed in a plaid shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots and a hat walked in. He took off his hat, and immediately fell to the floor in a genuflection, lingering a moment. Like it was the most natural thing to do in the world. He looked at me looking at him, then proceeded further in the chapel to pray. I didn’t know that Mexican man and will never know him this side of Paradise, but I knew one thing. I wanted to be like him one day and likewise genuflect with as much reverence. The Faith that he espoused was True. His Church was the True Church.
I finally did it. I made my way into RCIA. The catechists were nice enough, but one didn’t know what monasticism was. I had told them that monasticism was one of the things that attracted me about Catholicism. I was shocked that Catholics who were supposed to help other Catholics join the church didn’t know something I thought was unique to the Faith. I was scandalized and opted to be baptized in a low church Anglican tradition in November 2013 instead, flaking out of pursuing further catechesis. But I met some Catholic coworkers in that interim who steered me aright and who prayed the rosary with me and one of them offered to go to mass with me. I gave it another go in 2014. Things in the second round in RCIA were still rough—I had to defend the existence of hell against my catechist and was truly shaken by it—but I was bound and determined to be received into the Church on Easter Vigil.
I returned to the Basilica in March shortly before I was received in 2015. I also went to the St. Louis Zoo at the time on that trip, but my main purpose was to return to the Marian chapel and thank Our Lady for the graces to actually come into the Church, despite all odds.
I wasn’t quite sure what I was really getting myself into, but I knew one thing. The Faith that venerated Mary as the Mother of God and espoused Marian dogmas was True. This Church was the True Church.
2018
In October of 2018 I found myself a newlywed with a pregnant wife. We had dropped by the city of St. Louis the king to take in the Basilica, eat some Italian food at The Hill, and take it easy. In truth, it was a pilgrimage just as much as it was a staycation of sorts.
Seeing the Basilica this time meant more, I think. We had a kindly old gentleman notice us in the narthex and he proceeded to give us a tour—starting with the mosaics of Louis IX’s life and then all around the Basilica. It helped to hear the lives of the saints who had shaped St. Louis and Catholicism and America, and not just be starstruck. To know what each part of the grand temple was and be given a general sketch was nice. We prayed and lingered there a while even after the tour. Especially in the Blessed Sacrament chapel on the Epistle side of the altar.
On another occasion, we had happened in Forest Park to visit the history museum. We went through it, but still wanted something to do. Luckily, the art museum wasn’t too far away. We went through and relished the Catholic medieval and Renaissance art that was in the collection. We went out a different entrance than we had went in. And who should greet us but St. Louis himself?
I remember being impressed with the king on his horse. I took an obligatory photo, but I also appreciated that this man was a Catholic and saint, and though I was no Francophile, he was a brother and ancestor in my Faith. In a way, this statue represented all that was right with St. Louis, MO and the man himself. And also in a way, what was right about Catholicism itself. Though not every saint in Heaven had been a king on earth, our Faith is a regal thing. Each of us is to earn a crown, even if we don’t always have one in our temporal life. I’m sure Louis IX would be the first to say that his crown was in service to the Lord, and he likely cast his crown at the feet of Jesus when he met Him in the hereafter. However, it was just nice to know that here King Louis was, silently guarding the city outside the art museum at the park, peace suggested by his downturned sword held in his hand—invoking the power of the Holy Cross. I had no idea that a little less than two years later people would want to tear down this statue and write obscenities on it.
There was one more thing about this trip to St. Louis that I feel I must mention. It particularly bothered me at the time. In St. Louis there are two basilicas, the old and new one. The new one is very pretty and is mosaiced all over, the old one has a nobility about it but is older—it sits right next to the Gateway Arch. We visited both. In both, there are museums underneath that one can visit. Both have articles on display of pre-Paul VI Catholicism—namely, fiddleback vestments or paten plates and the like…things that aren’t typically used for a Novus Ordo liturgy on a regular basis. While the articles were beautiful, it seemed to me not quite right that these things were contained behind glass like they were consigned to history…never to be used again.


Furthermore, in the older basilica, the pamphlet you get after getting your museum admission had a quip of the church being a place welcoming and for people all faiths. That truly was a blow to me…is the Catholic Church a place for people of all faiths? Certainly anyone of whatever religion is welcome to visit our churches, but do we want them to stay the same after they leave? Should we not want them to convert to what is the One True Faith? Should we not present the Faith as a living thing? Are we just one religion among many? Are we content to keep our pretty basilicas as quaint museums that are no doubt beautiful but things that seem only capable of being built by a previous generation of Catholics and not by us?
Indeed, in the older basilica, I felt that I was perhaps less starstruck, because in my heart I saw the cognitive dissonance involved in wanting to hearken back to Tradition but insist on post-conciliar practices. The floor was creaky and wooden—it was as if the building was groaning in response to all the changes that had occurred. There were statues of saints and vigil lights, which were a welcome sight, as well as a traditional confessional…even the altars at the front had beautiful paintings above them servings as altarpieces. But with the freestanding table altars of Pauline liturgy being the focal point of the new mass, how often were masses said on the side altars…did any cleric do ad orientem liturgy? Granted features like these were present in the newer basilica too…but for some reason these things hit me in my visit in the older basilica, because it was well…old. You wondered as you walked across the noisy floorboards if Catholics of even the early twentieth century would care for all the “progress” that had been made. Please do not think my wonderings disparaging, but I feel that the post-conciliar reality is something to be reckoned with. Would those Catholics, who were likely catechized that the Catholic Church was the One True Church—would they welcome pamphlets in a museum indicating the wish that the church was for people of all faiths? If I may be so bold, I think not. And while I am thankful that the post-conciliar iconoclasm hasn’t totally claimed both basilicas in St. Louis, there was still enough evolution present for me to start thinking of these types of issues.
Truly, this trip to St. Louis both confirmed me in the Catholic Faith as well as challenged my Faith and asked me—what do you really believe? I was thankful for the pilgrimage, but it showed me that we must never take our Holy Faith for granted. It musn’t just be a pretty bauble or an esteemed cultural heirloom or historical landmark. We must teach the Faith to others and want for them to join it. We must ask them, what built this place? What Beauty, what True God led these people to build temples for God? Even when they don’t know completely of the Eucharistic Lord, can we present the Faith in such a way where, like Jacob who saw angels ascending and descending at Bethel, they might say later, Indeed the Lord is in this place, and I knew it not (Gen. xxviii. 16).
I think such was my encounter with St. Louis in general. My journey to Faith was long and filled with obstacles, but every pilgrimage was in a way my personal Jacob’s Ladder. I saw ostensible beauty and wanted to know why and what it truly was about. For in seeing these beautiful veils, I still knew that I was looking through a glass in a dark manner (I Cor. xiii. 12), and needed to see and know the God these angels of architecture and art proclaimed. I needed to serve Him the way He wants and decrees. And indeed, by rooting myself in the Traditional Faith via right doctrine, orthodoxy ensures that by Grace, I will see the God that St. Louis IX and St. Louis, MO proclaims. For this Faith of and in St. Louis is True. The Church that built them both is the True Church.
What to Do Now?
Admittedly, this piece has taken me some time to write. I saw the goings on in St. Louis, MO and had a burden on my heart. But I didn’t know what to do. I knew how the city had affected me, but I didn’t just want to be a reactive talking head of outrage at the Marxist forces. I love St. Louis IX, but not because I know every jot and tittle about him and I didn’t just want to write a piece defending his record—which by now I think is solid—because I’m not much of a historian, though I love reading about history. I didn’t want to disqualify myself, as it were. I’m a just a normal Catholic trying to live his faith, raise a family, and get his wife and kids to Heaven. But both the city and saint St. Louis helped make me a Catholic. And I honestly believe that’s something worth fighting for.
How do I fight? Chiefly, by prayer. I cannot drive to St. Louis every weekend to pray and protest with the locals, but I can join them wherever I am and pray alongside them. Furthermore, I can remember them when the Holy Mass is being said—and I have. You should too. We are One Body in Christ, let’s start communicating in prayer so that the Head of the Body, Our Lord, may intervene and save us from the diabolical chaos threatening our Faith. Pick up your rosaries…let us go to Our Lord through His Mother, and being childlike, obtain our requests in simple confidence.
Secondly, the second best way to fight is to share the Faith with others. Especially non-Catholics. Let your reason for believing be apparent in everything you do. Cross yourself when you eat during lunchbreak, carry around a rosary, talk about the Faith when others ask. Just be holy and unashamed…God will speak though you and do the rest. Avail yourself of Him in the Sacraments and truly live for Him and others will see that in you. This is important. For if you live for God and suffer persecution for it, that will be a witness. To whom? I’m not sure, but God knows. And He has use of both you and I…so we must be willing vessels. Our Faith has built beautiful cathedrals, but we must ourselves make our hearts a church. We must be Tabernacles that hold the Lord Jesus. Our lives must be a monstrance to others. That is how we avoid becoming a Faith of cultural heirlooms and museums.
Further in this vein, I am reminded of a homily given by a good priest friend of mine some years ago. He mentioned that in the cathedrals across the world you see two different types of people: folks that have cameras around their necks and are tourists, and then folks who are praying in these beautiful places and are pilgrims. His challenge to us was to ask this simple question: What type of Catholic are you? Are you a tourist or a pilgrim? Do you take pictures and then leave, never to really grace the doors of a church again? Or are you a pilgrim—knowing that this world is not your home and only in Jesus Christ and in Heaven do you have a lasting home. Do you live as Citizen of Heaven here and now? Or are you merely content to take it all in, document the grand architecture and live like a heathen elsewhere?
We Catholics are pilgrims in this life—heading to a grander country that no place on earth can rival. We have a King we are intent on seeing, whom even Louis IX worships. Jesus Christ is the end of all our toil here in our mortal lives. We must give witness to Him…for only in Jesus Christ and His Church is salvation found. We must not do others a disservice by being content to be tourists. We must be pilgrims.
I am encouraged to see that Catholics in St. Louis, MO and elsewhere are rising up to the challenge given the Marxist uprisings this summer. Priests have flocked to the St. Louis statue in Forest Park and defended his reputation against the mob. People have prayed the rosary and processed there many times as well. I am sure they will continue to do so. I plan to make a trip there again soon enough so I might be able to do the same. But this time, I will truly go with a pilgrim’s mindset, not being a tourist. The statue and the city now mean more to me than they did in 2018. For in this summer of iconoclasm in 2020, I see that these things truly are a sort of icon. They are holy insomuch that they point people to Heaven and Jesus Christ. And that is why the mob wants to destroy them erase them from history.
But we Catholics serve the Lord of History and Time. The mob can kill our bodies and efface our churches and statues. But they cannot kill our souls. For we are pilgrims journeying to a higher place. Heaven is our goal, not anything else. In this realization we know the True Faith, and like St. Louis IX, we may know that this persecution only shows that this is the True Church. Let us show our brethren outside the fold the fullness of the Faith and the Church. For the world hates us, but we do not hate their souls—only the sins they commit. Our temples must chiefly be our bodies and souls, for as the Psalmist says, Unless the Lord Build the house, they labour in vain that build it (Ps. cxxvi. 1).
With God’s Grace, we shall save souls, even in this valley of tears.
We shall endure in Christ, He Who is the Alpha and the Omega.
We shall see Jesus. We shall see His Face. We shall be like Him.
Heaven and only Heaven—that is the goal of our pilgrimage.
This is the house that God has built, for Our Lord says, I go to prepare a place for you (John 14:2)
Let us go to meet Him, even now.
Blessed be God!St. Louis IX, ora pro nobis.
Amen.
—
Nathaniel Richards is a Catholic husband and father who lives in the Ozarks. He enjoys collecting Catholic books and promises that one day he will read most of them—eventually, maybe. Starting a Catholic bookstore that sells books rather than gifts is a dream of his. He converted from Oneness Pentecostalism to Anglicanism and eventually made his way to Catholicism in 2015.
Mother Mary, The Queen and Help of Christians

By Ivo de Noronha
While out with my cohort, we got around to the topic of the Catholic Church. Some of my Protestant brothers were fiercely critical of Mother Mary, bewailing Mary’s epithets and titles such as Mother Mary, Mary the Queen, the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God and others.
Having been raised in a Catholic family, we went to our local parish dedicated to Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception as well a Shrine of Our Lady of Fatima, belonging to the Salesians of Don Bosco, where as children we regurgitated the prayers dedicated to Our Lady without knowing the intrinsic essence of the titles. But my devotion to Our Heavenly Mother stemmed from my parents of course, as well as the Salesians, predominantly late Rev. Fr. Benedict Furtado who pointed out to us in school that St. John Bosco was an ardent promulgator of the devotion to Mary under the title, Help of Christians.
Subsequently, after my graduation, I had the privilege of personally meeting in Sao Paulo a great anti-communist ideologue and Brazilian Catholic intellectual Professor Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira who intensely devoted to the Holy Virgin Mary and consecrated himself according to the method of St. Louis-Marie Grignion de Montfort. In one of his lectures, Prof Oliveria pointed out that whilst St. John Bosco proliferated Marian devotion under the title of Help of Christians, it was Saint John Chrysostom that was the first to use this Marian title in year 345 as a devotion to the blessed Virgin.
For those unaware, the title Help of Christians was introduced into the litany by Saint Pius V as it was through the intercession of Mother Mary that the tiny Christian fleet emerged victorious over a much larger navy of the Turkish Empire on October 7, 1571 in the famed naval engagement of Lepanto.
Growing up I had a decent knowledge of our faith, good enough to overcome objections from our Protestant brothers. However, it was not until recently, thanks to the priests of the Vincentian congregation, that I was sparked with a whole new zealous spirit of living for and by our faith. In his weekly bible class held virtually via Zoom, an ebullient Father Joseph Edattu gave us a taste of Mariology, Christology and related eschatological teachings that again had a seminal effect.
Expounding why Mary was known as Mother, as well as the Mother of God and several titles, epithets, invocations and different names, Father Edattu indicated that the title Mother of God refers to Mary as the mother of Jesus because of her virginal and God-bearing nature (originally in Greek as “Theotokos” meaning “God-bearer”). The Virgin Mother “was, after her Son, exalted by divine grace above all angels and men.”
While accentuating Mother Mary’s obedient nature, quoting Romans V. 18-19, he highlighted how an obedient nature of one human led to life for all people.
Consequently, just as one trespass resulted in condemnation for all people, so also one righteous act resulted in justification and life for all people. For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous.
Referring to Adam who is a typos of Jesus, Father Edattu quoted I Corinthians XV. 45-47:
The first man Adam became a living being the last Adam, a life-giving spirit. The spiritual did not come first, but the natural, and after that the spiritual. The first man was of the dust of the earth; the second man is of heaven.
Outlining the connection between the old Adam and the new Adam which is Jesus (meaning “God saves” in Hebrew), he aptly indicated why Christ was undoubtedly more important than Adam. As it is referred in CCC 437 “To you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. From the beginning he was ‘the one whom the Father consecrated and sent into the world’, conceived as ‘holy’ in Mary’s virginal womb.”
Mother of God and Mother of the Church
Being born in Her womb, it is obvious that Mary appositely deserves the title Mother of God. Conversely, the Church which originated in Roman Judea in the first century AD, was established on the exclusive teachings of Jesus Christ.
Jesus Christ is pronounced as the Head of the Church and His followers are labelled as the Body of the Church. It is natural therefore that Mary, is the Mother of Christ and Mother of God through Jesus. This is revealed in the Church’s Trinitarian faith, which “is the central mystery of Christian faith and life … and the means by which the one true God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, reveals himself to men” (CCC 234). Likewise, the Church does “not confess three Gods, but one God in three persons” (CCC 253).
Furthermore, Mother Mary is also seen as the quintessential model of the Church for the inspiring role she plays in the Christian life. As St. Jose Maria Escriva details “Mary continually builds the Church and keeps it together. It is difficult to have devotion to our Lady and not feel closer to the other members of the mystical body.” Ultimately, it is noted that the Queen of Queens was undeniably the only figure to remain indisputably faithful to Our Lord, right from the moment of his conception and thereafter through His ministry and until His death and Resurrection.
Our Lady or the Queen of Virgins is therefore unquestionably the model of and for the Church. “By her complete adherence to the Father’s will, to his Son’s redemptive work, and to every prompting of the Holy Spirit, the Virgin Mary is the Church’s model of faith and charity” (CCC 967).
Mother Mary the Queen, Mary Queen of Virgins, Mary Help of Christians, we await the triumph of your Immaculate Heart. Pray for us to be sturdily united as brethren of your son Jesus Christ.