St. Peter Canisius Apostolate

Sacrosanctum Concilium, no. 7: To accomplish so great a work, Christ is always present in His Church, especially in her liturgical celebrations. He is present in the sacrifice of the Mass, not only in the person of His minister, “the same now offering, through the ministry of priests, who formerly offered himself on the cross,” but especially under the Eucharistic species. By His power He is present in the sacraments, so that when a man baptizes it is really Christ Himself who baptizes. He is present in His word, since it is He Himself who speaks when the holy scriptures are read in the Church. He is present, lastly, when the Church prays and sings, for He promised: “Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them” (Matt. 18:20).

In this paragraph, the Council lists the ways Christ is present in the Church’s liturgy. For the sake of clarity, let’s list them here. Christ is present in:

1. the priest who offers the sacrifice of the Mass;
2. the Holy Eucharist in a special way;
3. the ministers of the sacraments;
4. the Sacred Scriptures, which are His word;
5. the congregation who participates in the liturgy.

Much can be said about each one of these; but I want to highlight three:

First, of the five ways listed, the Council emphasizes Christ’s presence in the Eucharist. This shouldn’t come as a surprise to any Catholic, but it’s always surprising to me how often this teaching doesn’t come up — or, perhaps better stated, how under-emphasized it is. Whenever I hear a homily on Christ’s presence in the Eucharist, I feel both great exhilaration and well as deep sadness that I’m exhilarated. I mean, is it not sad that we feel joyful when the truth of the faith is actually preached? At any rate, of the five ways Christ is present in the Church, he is especially present to us in the Holy Eucharist, for it is the sacrament of his presence.

Second, Christ is also present in his ministers. This truth is noted twice: Christ is present in the priests who offer Mass, and Christ is present in the ministers of his sacraments. This teaching dates back to the time of St. Augustine who argued against the Donatists that the power of the sacraments does not come from the minister of the sacraments, but, rather, from Christ who gives the sacraments through the ministers. It’s important to remember that in the Church’s liturgy Christ is present giving his grace. It is Christ who baptizes, Christ who absolves us from our sin, Christ who prepares the person for his or her final transition from this life to the next.

Third, Christ is present in the congregation who participates in the liturgy. The “spirit of Vatican II” crowd would like us to believe that the laity’s participation in the liturgy must take on some kind of external form. But this cannot be the case because then the Christ would be present only in those who are externally participating in the liturgy. What is little know to the “spirit of Vatican II” crowd is that Pope St. Pius X encouraged active participation in the liturgy by the laity. What he meant by it, and what Vatican II meant by it, is that the laity should follow along with the liturgy and make the words of the liturgical prayers their own. And in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, the laity should unite themselves to Christ’s offering on the Cross, seeking to imitate his sacrifice in the happenings of their everyday life. So Christ is present in the congregation who has gathered in his name, who intends to pray with the Church, and who seeks to imitate Christ’s gift of self in all that they do.

From a spiritual testament to his son by Saint Louis, King of France (my emphases and comment):

*

My dearest son, my first instruction is that you should love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your strength. Without this there is no salvation. Keep yourself, my son, from everything that you know displeases God, that is to say, from every mortal sin. You should permit yourself to be tormented by every kind of martyrdom before you would allow yourself to commit a mortal sin. [Reminds me of a passage from Veritatis Splendor: "[man] can never be hindered from not doing certain actions, especially if he is prepared to die rather than to do evil.” Both St. Louis and Pope John Paul see resisting temptation as a kind of martyrdom. The Church sees martyrdom as the greatest expression a person’s love for Christ. Just think: we love Christ with a similar kind of love by resisting our own sinful desires.]

If the Lord has permitted you to have some trial, bear it willingly and with gratitude, considering that it has happened for your good and that perhaps you well deserve it. [The Lord's single desire for us is our salvation; therefore, whatever happens to us must be seen as an aid to our salvation.] If the Lord bestows upon you any kind of prosperity, thank him humbly and see that you become no worse for it, either through vain pride or anything else, because you ought not to oppose God or offend him in the matter of his gifts.

Listen to the divine office with pleasure and devotion. As long as you are in church, be careful not to let your eyes wander and not to speak empty words, but pray to the Lord devoutly, either aloud or with the interior prayer of the heart. [Sound advice. Easier to say than to do.]

Be kindhearted to the poor, the unfortunate and afflicted. Give them as much help and consolation as you can. [It seems to me that the cultural and political landscape in America has hardened the hearts of many Catholics to the perennial commandment to help the poor.] Thank God for all the benefits he has bestowed upon you, that you may be worthy to receive greater. Be just to your subjects, [the rest of the paragraph needs to be understood as the advice given from a king to his son, the future king] swaying neither to right nor left, but holding the line of justice. Always side with the poor rather than with the rich, until you are certain of the truth. See that all your subjects live in justice and peace, but especially those who have ecclesiastical rank and who belong to religious orders.

Be devout and obedient to our mother the Church of Rome and the Supreme Pontiff as your spiritual father. Work to remove all sin from your land, particularly blasphemies and heresies.

In conclusion, dearest son, I give you every blessing that a love father can give a son. May the three Persons of the Holy Trinity and all the saints protect you from every evil. And may the Lord give you the grace [we can do nothing without God] to do his will so that he may be served and honored through you, that in the next life we may together come to see him, love him and praise him unceasingly. [It never ceases to amaze me how heaven oriented the saints were. We serve God in this life so that we may see him, love him, and praise him in the next.] Amen.

Many thanks to Kim for her comment on yesterday’s post; it’s always nice when a blog post gets handed to you. Here’s the most important part of Kim’s comment:

I do see a potential problem with St. Thomas’ position for today among those of the postmodern persuasion. As a recovering liberal/postmodern protestant, I remember starting with the ultimate unknowability of God, his ultimate mystery. Because God was beyond us, then also Truth could not be fully ascertained. Therefore, we had to “discern” truth in “conversation” and “covenant” which meant relativism. Ultimately, nothing was knowable, including the incarnation or the resurrection.

Here’s my response (which I did not put in the comment box):

Sounds to me like people are ripping negative theology out of context. Negative theology, if you are unaware of the term, is the second movement of traditional theological thinking. In a very basic way, here’s how this works:

The first movement is called the “way of affirmation.” What this does is state doctrine in a positive manner — God is Father, for example.

The second movement is called the “way of negation.” What this does is restate the doctrine in a way that calls attention to the complete transcendence and utter unknowability of God — “though we call God Father,” negative theology says, “we must remember that the Fatherhood of God is so unlike, so far beyond our mere conceptions of fatherhood that we might be better off to say nothing of God’s fatherhood.”

Then you have the third movement, the “way of supra-eminence,” which, as Cardinal Kasper says, “negates the negation.” Though it is true that God’s Fatherhood transcends our conception of fatherhood, nevertheless, God himself choose to reveal himself as Father, so therefore we are called by God to elevate our own understanding of fatherhood in general and God’s Fatherhood in particular.

I can certainly see how post-modern thinkers would fall in love with negative theology. It not only posits God’s existence, but it also posits God’s inaccessibility, and therefore religious relativism. The error, of course, is that it denies that God has made himself known through both the natural light of human reason and, more perfectly, through divine revelation.

Here’s my question: Could it be that some of the backlash against Christianity that we see in so many areas of our culture is the result of elementary thinking on the part of Christians that does move beyond the “way of affirmation”? Has the happy face of My Friend Jesus hindered us from seeing that he is the Eternal Son of the Eternal Father? The question can be asked in all sorts of ways. Perhaps most simply: Have we Christians forgotten the utter transcendence of God?

From his Catechetical Instruction on the Apostles’ Creed, St. Thomas Aquinas writes:

But someone will say that it is foolish to believe what is not seen, and that one should not believe in things that he cannot see. I answer by saying that the imperfect nature of our intellect takes away the basis of this difficulty. For if man of himself could in a perfect manner know all things visible and invisible, it would indeed be foolish to believe what he does not see. But our manner of knowing is so weak that no philosopher could perfectly investigate the nature of even one little fly. We even read that a certain philosopher spent thirty years in solitude in order to know the nature of the bee. If, therefore, our intellect is so weak, it is foolish to be willing to believe concerning God only that which man can know by himself alone. And against this is the word of Job: “Behold, God is great, exceeding our knowledge”(Job 36.26). One can also answer this question by supposing that a certain master had said something concerning his own special branch of knowledge, and some uneducated person would contradict him for no other reason than that he could not understand what the master said! Such a person would be considered very foolish. So, the intellect of the Angels as greatly exceeds the intellect of the greatest philosopher as much as that of the greatest philosopher exceeds the intellect of the uneducated man. Therefore, the philosopher is foolish if he refuses to believe what an Angel says, and far greater fool to refuse to believe what God says. Against such are these words: “For many things are shown to thee above the understanding of men” (Ecclus 3.25).

The issue that St. Thomas treats in this text — the issue of atheism — is so thoroughly modern that the only way we can be sure it is truly a medieval text is by the very words and ideas used in the argument. It would be foolish to try to argue against atheism using the material aspects of St. Thomas’ argument. Who today is going to argue with an atheist from Scripture? Who today is going to suggest that the angels are more intelligent than humans? It’s the validity of the Scriptures themselves and the existence of the angels that are being challenged! Instead, let’s try to understand Thomas’ rationale.

The heart of St. Thomas’ argument against not believing in invisible realities is the imperfection of the human intellect. By “imperfection” St. Thomas means two things: first, he means that our minds are unable to grasp the true nature of existence, and second, he’s referring to the fact that we are not omniscient — we cannot know all things.

When we first read Thomas’ account of the story of the man who spent thirty years studying the nature of the bee, we are apt to smile. But there is truth in this fable. How many scientists have spent their energy focused on one or two areas of study only to come to the end of their lives more in awe and evermore fascinated by the objects of their study? It seems to me that the great enigma of academic endeavor was expressed by Socrates: True wisdom consists in knowing that you know nothing. The more we learn, the more we know how much we don’t know. Therefore, if after years of study we hardly have a grasp of the areas we’ve spent our lives thinking about, can we really say definitively that an invisible realm does not exist?

The second way we can answer to the atheist’s argument is by asserting that we are unable to know everything. Thomas illustrates this point by using a hierarchy of intelligence — God, angels, philosopher, common man. But could we not illustrate this point, especially in our own day when it’s nearly impossible to be conversant in all fields of knowledge, by saying that despite our own expertise in any give subject there will always be another who is an expert in another field? Since this is true, how can anyone claim they know God does not exist? Knowledge is dependent upon seeing the relationship between two things. Though I may be an expert astronomer, if I have a child’s understanding of religion, how can I possibly think about God existence in any definitive way?

As I mentioned a few days ago, I was out of town over the weekend. The time away from home also meant a time away from the blog, and it provided me time to reflect on what I’ve been doing around here.

Despite the number of kind comments I’ve received, I’m not entirely happy with my work so far. The source of my unhappiness is that I’ve allowed myself to get caught up with trying to post every day. This goal is immensely time consuming when each post is about the length of an op-ed piece — between 500-750 words. And I think the quality of posts has suffered because I’m working so fast.

Also, I think I’ve lost sight of the purpose of this blog. As I said in the Mission Statement: “The St. Peter Canisius Apostolate is a work dedicated to providing Catholics with solid and penetrating instruction of Catholic teaching. I strive to elucidate the teachings of the Church with Sacred Scripture, the writings of the early Church Fathers, the Doctors of the Church, and most importantly with the official catechisms of the Church, the writings of the Popes, and the Church’s twenty-one Ecumenical Councils.” Instead of focusing on Church teaching, I’ve been trying to elucidate the writings of the early Church Fathers and St. Thomas Aquinas. In other words, this blog has become theological, not catechetical.

Finally, I want to start working on a podcast called A Walk Through the Catechism. This podcast was one of the primary reasons why I wanted to start the St. Peter Canisius Apostolate. It’s been in the works now for almost two months, which is about a month too long. But I can’t work on the podcast while also maintaining a post-a-day pace.

So here’s what I plan to do:

1. Post only two or three times a week. This should give me more time to focus on the podcast.

2. Make Tuesdays with St. Thomas catechetical in nature. To do this, I’m going to drop my series on St. Thomas’s understanding of happiness and return to commenting on his catechesis of the Apostles’ Creed.

3. Make Fridays with the Church Fathers thematic in nature. Instead of random passages each week, I’m going to focus on 10-week topics.

4. I’m going to continue with my reflections on Sacroscantum Concilium because I not only think they’re going well, I think they fulfill one of the goals of the Apostolate: To elucidate Catholic doctrine from the writings of the Church’s ecumenical councils.

From The Demonstration of the Apostolic Preaching by St. Irenaeus of Lyons (d. 202):

For the way of all those who see is single and upward, illumined by the heavenly light, but the ways of those who do not see are many, dark, and divergent; the one leads to the kingdom of heaven, uniting man to God, while the others lead down to death, separating man from God. Thus it is necessary for you and for all who are concerned about their salvation to make your way by faith, without deviation, surely and resolutely, lest, in slacking, you remain in gross desires, or, erring, wander far from the right path.

In this passage, we again see expressed the patristic teaching that there are two ways that we can follow. One way leads to life, the other leads to death.

What is interesting here is how St. Irenaeus describes the two ways. Though there is only one way that leads to life, there are many ways that lead to death: “For the way of all those who see is single and upward, illumined by the heavenly light, but the ways of those who do not see are many, dark, and divergent; the one leads to the kingdom of heaven, uniting man to God, while the others lead down to death, separating man from God.”

One cannot help but recall the words of Our Lord concerning the narrow gate: “Enter by the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is easy, that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard, that leads to life, and those who find it are few” (Mt. 7.12-14).

It’s as if St. Irenaeus is telling us that the gate that leads to death must be wide because there are so many roads that lead us away from God. But the gate that leads to life is narrow because there is only one road that leads to life.

And what is this one road that leads to life? Faith.

Faith gives us true sight; it is the heavenly light that illumines our minds. It is faith that allows us to see the road that passes through the narrow gate. So long as we have the correct disposition and accept the illumination of faith with a good will and firm resolution, it will keep us morally strong (it won’t let us fall into our “gross desires”) as well as intellectually strong (it won’t let us wander from the right path through error).

. . . you might find this method helpful:

Read

1. Read the passage out loud (if possible) slowly, simply to become familiar with it.

Reflect

2. Read the passage again, silently. Ask the Lord to let you read and “hear” it as if this was the first time, and ask; what does it mean? How would you tell or explain this story in your own words? (no more than 5-6 sentences)

Spontaneous Prayer

3. Pick one person from the passage: Imagine that you are in this person’s “shoes.” (NOTE: If the passage does not specifically name persons in its text, simply see if the words themselves evoke any particular feeling. Does it call to mind a previous, or presently occurring, incident or relationship in your life?)

3a. How does it feel to be in this situation?

3b. Does it remind you of something or someone in your life?

3c. Is there anything you would say or do differently?

3d. Have a “heart to Heart” talk with Jesus, sharing your honest feelings about anything that has come to mind in reference to your reflecting on this passage. It might be something that is weighing heavily on your heart, or something that moves you to a deep sense of gratitude and joyful praise. Choose one word or phrase from this passage that has special meaning for you.

Resting in God

4. Read the passage again. Close your eyes. Think of your favorite picture of Jesus and LISTEN to HIM. (Spend this time in simple silence, waiting and quietly listening for whatever the Lord might “whisper” in your heart.)

Here’s the link to the original source, where you’ll find both a printable page of these four steps as well as some commentary.

It looks like you’ll need to keep a written journal, which wouldn’t be that bad (for me) so long as I had some direction as to what to write. On those occasions I’ve tried to keep a journal, I’ve found that I’ll either write five or six incoherent pages or end up talking about theology. In either case, it’s never been helpful. But to keep a kind of log with specific content — now that might be helpful.

What a lovely practice by Heather over at the Practicing Catholic, dedicating every third Friday to pray and fast for priests and vocations.

I’ve often wondered about the best way to pray for all the “long-term” intentions I have. Maybe this is it — dedicate certain days of each month or week to pray for certain things.

This might sound odd to some people, but I sometimes think my spiritual life would be greatly improved if I used a Franklin Covey Day Planner.

Tuesdays with St. Thomas is postponed until next week. Not only did the text I was going to post on today put the smackdown on my limited intellectual skills, I went out of town on a family vacation over the weekend and didn’t have time to work on it much.

However, not wanting to leave you with nothing, I thought I’d list those books about St. Thomas that I’ve found most helpful in understanding his thought.

1. Josef Pieper, A Guide to St. Thomas
2. G. K. Chesterton, Saint Thomas Aquinas: The Dumb Ox
3. Martin Grabmann, Introduction to the Theological Summa of St. Thomas
4. M.-D. Chenu, Toward Understanding St. Thomas
5. J.-P. Torrell, Saint Thomas Aquinas: His Person and Work
6. Walter Farrell and Martin Healy, My Way of Life: The Summa Simplified for Everyone

So, what are the books about the Angelic Doctor you’ve found helpful?

Sacrosanctum Concilium, no. 6, is a long paragraph that is best understood if we break it into three parts. The first part reads:

Just as Christ was sent by the Father, so also He sent the apostles, filled with the Holy Spirit. This He did that, by preaching the gospel to every creature, they might proclaim that the Son of God, by His death and resurrection, had freed us from the power of Satan and from death, and brought us into the kingdom of His Father. His purpose also was that they might accomplish the work of salvation which they had proclaimed, by means of sacrifice and sacraments, around which the entire liturgical life revolves.

The first sentence provides the divine rationale of why Christ sent the apostles: “Just as Christ was sent by the Father, so also He sent the apostles, filled with the Holy Spirit.”

The second sentence tells us Christ’s goal in sending the apostles: “This He did that, by preaching the gospel to every creature, they might proclaim that the Son of God, by His death and resurrection, had freed us from the power of Satan and from death, and brought us into the kingdom of His Father.”

The third sentence tells us the means Christ’s gave his apostles in order to accomplish this goal: “His purpose also was that they might accomplish the work of salvation which they had proclaimed, by means of sacrifice and sacraments, around which the entire liturgical life revolves.”

Briefly put, Christ sent the apostles into the world to preach the Good News so that everyone might enter into the mystery of salvation through the sacraments. The sacraments are the means set up by Jesus Christ himself to make the grace of salvation accessible to all people.

Now let’s look at the second part of this paragraph:

Thus by baptism men are plunged into the paschal mystery of Christ: they die with Him, are buried with Him, and rise with Him; they receive the spirit of adoption as sons “in which we cry: Abba, Father” (Rom. 8:15), and thus become true adorers whom the Father seeks. In like manner, as often as they eat the supper of the Lord they proclaim the death of the Lord until He comes.

The key to understanding the Church’s view of the sacraments is this: It is through the sacraments that we are united to the death, resurrection, and ascension of Christ. This one, complete, and total “Christ Event” is what makes salvation possible. But it is not as if the Christ Event merely opened the gates of heaven for anyone to enter. Jesus is the door, Jesus is the way — and the only way to heaven is being united to him. The means Our Lord set up so that we might be united to him are the seven sacraments.

Through Baptism, we are “plunged into the paschal mystery of Christ” by mystically participating in his death, burial, and resurrection. The biblical basis for this teaching is Romans 6.1-11.

And through the Holy Eucharist, we remember Christ’s passion and death. But for the Church, the notion of “remembrance” is more than merely recalling a past event. Rather, it is a re-presentation of the death of Christ through the sacrament of the holy sacrifice of the Mass. In Holy Mass, we are mystically present at Calvary and, if we are in a state of grace, we are united to Christ and all the graces he merited for us because of his self-offering are made available to us.

Let’s now move on to the third part of the paragraph:

For that reason, on the very day of Pentecost, when the Church appeared before the world, “those who received the word” of Peter “were baptized.” And “they continued steadfastly in the teaching of the apostles and in the communion of the breaking of bread and in prayers . . . praising God and being in favor with all the people” (Acts 2:41-47). From that time onwards the Church has never failed to come together to celebrate the paschal mystery: reading those things “which were in all the scriptures concerning him” (Luke 24:27), celebrating the Eucharist in which “the victory and triumph of his death are again made present,” and at the same time giving thanks “to God for his unspeakable gift” (2 Cor. 9:15) in Christ Jesus, “in praise of his glory” (Eph. 1:12), through the power of the Holy Spirit.

It is because the apostles understood the spiritual power of baptism and the breaking of the bread (the NT terminology for the Holy Mass) that they were quick to baptize those who converted and to celebrate as often as possible the breaking of the bread. This earliest of traditions has been carried on throughout the history of the Church.

Briefly, then, this paragraph teaches us the following:

1. That Christ sent the apostles to proclaim the Good News.
2. That Christ gave the apostles the means of uniting people to the mystery of his death, burial, and resurrection.
3. The means that Christ gave the apostles are, primarily, the sacrament of Baptism and the holy sacrifice of the Mass.
4. From the beginning of the Church on Pentecost, the apostles baptized and celebrated the breaking of the bread.
5. The Church has never ceased in carrying out this divine mandate to preach the gospel and make the sacraments available to all people.

The second mystery of the Rosary is the Visitation — when the Blessed Mother makes haste to visit her cousin Elizabeth, who is pregnant with John the Baptist. It has always seemed to me that there is a logical connection between the this mystery and the one the preceded it — the Annunciation.

The connection is this: Once we receive the Lord Jesus into our hearts, we have a pressing responsibility to turn our attention to our neighbors. If the mystery of the Annunciation is about vocation, this mystery is about mission — and the relationship between vocation and mission is something we’ve spoken about before.

Christians have often been accused of leaving the world behind. Though it is true that Christianity can be the source of personal joy, the one who relishes personal joy to such an extent that he does not see the misery of the world is a poor Christian indeed. We can become so focused on heaven that we forget that we’ve been given this life in order to work our salvation with fear and trembling. To say we love God but refuse to love our neighbor makes, as St. John tells us in his first letter, the person who says it a liar.

Through the Mystery of the Visitation, Our Lady shows us that once we have been called by Jesus to be his disciple we must make haste to help others despite difficulties on our own part. If I remember correctly, some of the commentaries I’ve read, the journey from Nazareth to the Judean hillside, where Zacharias and Elizabeth lived, was not an easy one. On top of that, we can legitimately assume that Mary would have other things on her mind. Depending on how the events were ordered, she might have been worried about telling St. Joseph, her betrothed, that she was with child; upset that he did believe her; or amazed by his sudden change of heart. We can be almost certain that Mary’s own plans or expectations about how her life would progress were nullified by the angel’s announcement; suddenly, she was on a different road, and any one of us who have experienced this knows how difficult it can be to set aside our own concerns and focus on our neighbors.

But that is exactly what the Blessed Mother did. She put herself and her concerns aside and made haste to help her cousin. How often have I done that — completely abandoned myself for the sake of my neighbor? Too often, I find that while I’m willing to help on an external level, I interiorly murmur and complain until I’m no longer needed. This is why when we meditate on the Mystery of the Visitation we beg God for the virtue of fraternal charity.

So that our prayer will not be self-centered — that that we reach out to others through the power of the Spirit and the mercy of Christ — let us also beg God to bless and help all those whose work stands on virtue of fraternal charity: missionaries, doctors, nurses, police officers, firefighters, teachers, and all who volunteer to help those in need.

From the Eight Books of Miracles by St. Gregory of Tours (d. 593).

The course of this life having been completed by the Blessed Mary, when now she would be called from the world, all the Apostles came together from their various regions to her house. And when they had heard that she was about to be taken from the world, they kept watch together with her. And behold, the Lord Jesus came with His angels, and taking her soul, He gave it over to the Angel Michael and withdrew. At daybreak, however, the Apostles took up her body on a bier and placed it in a tomb; and they guarded it, expecting the Lord to come. And behold, again the Lord stood by them; and the holy body having been received, He commanded that it be taken in a cloud into paradise: where now, rejoined to the soul, [Mary] rejoices with the Lord’s chosen ones, and is in the enjoyment of the good of an eternity that will never end.

Since I believe that the early Church was solicitous to preserve the oral traditions concerning the Lord Jesus and his Blessed Mother, I take this story pretty much at face value. If I question any part of this story, I question whether the Apostles actually saw Christ come for his Mother’s soul, then for her body. They very well could have — I do not doubt the possibility. On the other hand, the language could have been used in order to communicate the theological truths at hand, namely, that Christ came for his Mother’s soul, then came for her body; and even though this coming was invisible to those who were present at her death and assumption, through the light of the Holy Spirit they knew what was happening. Of course, all of this is speculation on my part. And as I said, I do not doubt the essentials of this story.

I do, however, have a question for you all. Supposing this passage is rooted in fact, why is it that that our Lord first took Mary’s soul and then came back for her body?

Or to ask it in another way: Why does the passage suggest that the body of Mary was taken into heaven after her death?

I have an idea, but I’d like to hear yours first.

Since this is an old post, I thought I’d put my answer in the post itself rather than leave it in the comment section.

Here’s my answer: Like the empty tomb, it preserves the truth of the event. If the tomb had remained sealed, then there would be no physical evidence that Christ had raised from the dead. The empty tomb does not make one believe that Christ physically rose (there were, after all, many who believed that Jesus’ disciples stole the body, cf. Mt. 28.11-15), but the fact that the tomb is empty tomb is a sign of Christ’ resurrection.

In a similar way, Mary’s death becomes a sign of her assumption. Suppose Mary were to just “disappear” one day. Who would believe the eye witnesses? Not many. But it’s almost a sure thing that Mary’s death would have been well-known in Ephesus, the traditional home of John and the Blessed Mother. People would have come to pay respects. Many would have seen her body; even more would have talked to those who were with her when she passed from this life to the next. There would be no doubt: the Mother of the Lord Jesus was dead.

But the next day, her body is gone. The same people who saw her die now saw her body disappear in a cloud of heavenly glory. There would be too many witnesses of her death — too many witnesses that it would have been impossible for anyone to “steal her body,” so to speak. Thus, the delay between her death and her bodily assumption into heaven makes it all the easier to believe.

From the Pocket Catholic Catechism by Fr. John Hardon:

…In 1946, Pope Pius XII addressed an official query to all the Catholic bishops in the Church. “Do you,” he asked them, “in view of the wisdom and prudence that is yours, judge that the bodily assumption of the Blessed Virgin can be proposed and defined as a dogma of faith; and do you, along with your clergy and faithful, desire it?”

Within months, the pope received an almost unanimous reply in the affirmative. Consequently, on November 1, 1950, Pope Pius XII issued the solemn definition which stated:

By the authority of our Lord Jesus Christ, of the Blessed Apostles Peter and Paul, and by Our Own authority, we pronounce, declare, and define as divinely revealed dogma: The Immaculate Mother of God, Mary ever Virgin, after her life on earth, was assumed body and soul to the glory of heaven.

The grounds for defining Mary’s assumption as a dogma, or revealed doctrine, were Sacred Tradition as a co-equal source of divine revelation, along with Sacred Scripture. One reason for the definition was expressed by the pope when he spoke to the assembled four hundred bishops the day after the definition. He expressed the hope that this new honor to Mary would introduce “a spirit of penance to replace the prevalent love of pleasure, and a renewal of family life stabilized where divorce was common, and made fruitful where birth control was practiced.”

Our Lady’s bodily assumption should be a powerful motive for control of our bodily passions. Why? Because after the last day, we are due to be rewarded with a glorified body for the merit we have gained during our life on earth in sacrificing sinful pleasures of the senses in obedience to the will of God.

It is said that the primary purpose of the Church’s Marian doctrines are to safeguard the more important dogmas of the faith than the dogmas of the Blessed Virgin Mary herself.

The doctrine of Mary’s divine motherhood — as well as her perpetual virginity– safeguards the full divinity of her Son, Jesus Christ.

The doctrine of the Immaculate Conception safeguards the holiness of the Church.

The doctrine of Mary as Co-Redemptix and Co- Mediatrix safeguards the fact that through Baptism all Christians participates in the redemption of Christ and the mediation of all graces through our own prayers, sufferings, and acts of reparation.

And here we see that the doctrine of Mary’s bodily assumption into heaven also safeguards an important truth.

Normally, we would think that Mary’s bodily assumption reminds us of the resurrection of our own bodies and their participation in our eternal reward (or damnation). But Pope Pius XII had another idea in mind as well — namely, he hoped that Mary’s bodily assumption would remind us that we need to serve God with our bodies as well as with our minds and souls through acts of self-denial and mortification.

Once we understand the Pope’s rationale, we see why the Holy Spirit moved him to proclaim Mary’s bodily assumption a dogma of the Church in 1950. As John Paul II pointed out on a number of occasions, on of the defining characteristics of our age is a neo-gnosticism. Whereas the old gnosticism of antiquity denied the goodness of the body and thus subjected the body to harsh treatment, the neo-gnosticism of our age sees the body and bodily pleasure as the greatest goods we possess and therefore hardly ever denies the body any of its wants.

Because it is very difficult for anyone to escape the age in which he lives, we must be vigilant in not succumbing to the neo-gnosticism of our age through daily acts of self-denial.

I’m going to try something a little different today. Instead of providing a text and then offering a long commentary on it, I’m going to comment in the text itself and then offer a brief summary.

Today, we’re looking at the Summa theologiae, I-II, q. 1., art. 2: “Whether it is proper to the rational nature to act for an end?”

Since this part of the Summa deals with morality, the “rational nature” St. Thomas is speaking of is human nature. In other words, the question Thomas is treating is this one: “In the visible creation, do only humans act for an end?”

Here is Thomas’ answer, with my comments in blue. Continue Reading »

Sacrosanctum Concilium, no. 5. The wonderful works of God among the people of the Old Testament were but a prelude to the work of Christ Our Lord in redeeming mankind and giving perfect glory to God. He achieved his task principally by the paschal mystery of his blessed passion, resurrection from the dead, and glorious ascension, whereby dying, he destroyed our dead, and rising, restored our life. For it was from the side of Christ as he slept the sleep of death upon the cross that there came forth the wondrous sacrament of the whole Church.

At first glance, the context of this paragraph needs little explanation. If we recall that in Dei Verbum, no. 2, the Church defines divine revelation as the words and deeds of God in history, we can sum up this paragraph in the following way: God’s revelation to the ancient Hebrews was a preparation for his definitive self-revelation in the person and work of Jesus Christ; and the purpose of this revelation is our salvation.

So far, so good — except for the last sentence. It seems to be out of place. If I’m reading the paragraph correctly, the logic is this: God revealed himself to the ancient Hebrews to prepare for the fullness of revelation in Jesus Christ; the apex of Christ’s revelation is his death on the cross, which gives us the Church.

Are we to assume, then, that the purpose of God’s revelation is the establishment of the Church?

I think we are to assume it, and here’s why. In an early Christian document called The Shepherd of Hermes, the Church is described as a “gray old lady.” The point of this image was to indicate that the Church is as old as humankind itself; older, in fact, since she was part of the Triune God’s plan from all eternity. Because the Church is the community of God’s people, it could be said that God created the world for the sake of the Church.

Therefore, the early Church Fathers believed that in some sense the Church has always been a historical reality. Insofar as any person was righteous — as any person believed in God and sought to please him — that person was a member of God’s community. I believe the Church Fathers used the phrase, ecclesia ab Abel, the church of Abel, to describe this ancient of ancient community.

Yet, the Church in the full sense did not come into being until Christ’s death. When his side was pierced, out flowed water and blood; the Church Fathers all saw the water and blood to be symbols of the sacraments of Baptism and the Eucharist. But they saw more than that. Hanging on the cross they saw the open side of the Second Adam; just as the open side of the first Adam brought forth Eve, the mother of the living, the open side of the Second Adam brought forth the Second Eve, the Church, the mother of those alive in God through the sacraments.

With this as our background, I think the logic of this paragraph makes a little more sense: God did reveal himself for the sake of our salvation, and we find that salvation in the Church. This is why the Council calls the Church “a sacrament,” for it is a visible reality that springs from Christ himself whose invisible source of life and action is the Holy Spirit, and it is from the Church that the graces of salvation are given through the Church’s teaching and liturgy.