Who Killed Christ

When Pilate saw that he was not succeeding at all, but that a riot was breaking out instead, he took water and washed his hands in the sight of the crowd, saying, "I am innocent of this man's blood. Look to it yourselves."

And the whole people said in reply, "His blood be upon us and upon our children."

Then he released Barabbas to them, but after he had Jesus scourged, he handed him over to be crucified.
Matthew 27:24-27

These short lines have, through the fallen nature of humanity, caused their fair share of trouble over the centuries. The gospel message, through primarily one of hope and redemption, contains one dark undertone: Christ died for our sins. The one truly perfect being suffered horrifically because of our too clear imperfection.

It is in our nature to shy away from that which is unpleasant, and so it is perhaps no surprise that throughout history some Christians have attempted to assuage their own consciences by pointing the finger of blame at an obvious target: the Jews.

The fact, clearly stated in the gospel accounts, that it was the Jews who turned Christ over to be killed, and that Jews in Europe lived as a people set apart from the rest of the population, made them a good target against which to shift any blame one might feel for Christ's suffering. Or perhaps the gospel account simply provided a good excuse for the all too universal desire to cultures to treat minorities badly.

Either way, there is unquestionably a history in Christianity of the thousand years or more of Christians at times treating Jews badly and using the above statement of accountability as an excuse.

In recent times, rightly seeking to avoid any anti-Semitism, some have found a new scapegoat for the crucifixion: the Roman authorities. According to this narrative, which seems popular both with those who like to think of themselves as wise enough to know what is really going on between the lines of scripture and those who consider themselves particularly adept at critiquing civil authority from a religious perspective, the real motive force behind Christ's execution was the civil authorities. Christ preached a message of radical liberation, and this threatened the political and economic status quo, so the Roman authorities killed him. However, by the time the Gospel writers sat down to write their accounts, they found it expedient to gloss over the fault of the Roman authorities and lay blame on the Jews -- thus making nice with the Romans and scapegoating a people already on the outs with the empire.

Since I had run across this latter view several times this year, but on articles in the press and in online conversations, I had it in mind as I was re-reading the Passion narratives during Holy Week this year. That one can find no basis for it in the Gospels themselves is, of course, accounted for by the theory itself, yet it struck me with renewed force that this approach to the question, "Who killed Christ?" is really no different in its failures that the anti-Semitic one.

In both cases, the answer is effectively stated as: the other. The Jews. The oppressive authorities. Anyone but me.

The real answer to the question, "Who killed Christ?" is: We did.

As the Gospel accounts tell us, a mob of Jews gathered in Jerusalem for the Passover were stirred up by the Temple elders to call for Jesus' death, until the Roman authorities gave in to avoid a riot. Yet the meaning of this is not to be found in identifying some particular ethnic group or power structure to blame. Rather, we must think about who the Jews were, God's chosen people. The people who called out, "Crucify him! Crucify him!" were the only people in the world to whom God's law and prophesies had been revealed.

As Christians we believe that we now possess the fullness of God's revelation. We are God's people. Pius XI wrote, "Spiritually we are all Semites." And it should serve as a reminder to us of how right belief is no guarantee against pride or evil action. The leaders who called for the crucifixion were, like us, people who were the keepers of God's revelation on earth.

Presenting: The Church

As I mentioned, I'm giving a lecture in our Adult Catechesis series on "The Church". Well, for them that's interested, here's my PowerPoint presentation, though I don't know how much sense it will make given that it's mostly a visual for me to talk over.

Still I've tried to make the visuals good.



The presentation itself is here:

http://docs.google.com/Presentation?id=dgjj8n7q_13g8tsnf6m

[It looks like on some slides the text goes off the bottom in the GoogleDocs version -- and my Greek text on one slide got lost. But hey, what can a fellow do?]

The outline that I'll be speaking from is here:

http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=dgjj8n7q_78fwh8f8d4

The Church in 90 Minutes

I'm on the team giving the Adult Catechesis lectures at our parish this year, and this coming Thursday is my first presentation. The topic is the "the Church", covering chapters 10-11 in the United States Catholic Catechism for Adults. I certainly won't lack for material...

Thus far, my plan is to deviate a bit from the way the book covers the topic. I'm going to spend the first 45 minutes doing an overview of Church history, and then after a 5-10 minute break I'll cover the doctrine covered in the catechism, using the history we've covered to provide concrete examples of what I'm talking about.

Given that we're supposed to be presenting with a target audience of those who have attended mass for most of their adult lives but have not had much formal Catholic education, I'm thinking that explaining how the Church is "one, Catholic, holy and apostolic" and other doctrinal elements from the catechism will make more sense after covering historical context.

I'll post my powerpoint deck and outline when its all done. (The which is front of mind right now because I'm trying to get the lion's share of the writing done this weekend.)

Does anyone have a recommendation for a fairly short and accessible history of the Church which might be listed as "further reading"?

Nancy Pelosi, Girl Theologian

There are certain jobs which nearly everyone thinks they can do.

Screenwriter William Goldman says that writing is one such. Everyone on a movie production is convinced that he could probably write the script just fine, if he wasn't busy doing something else. So why is the writing taking so long to produce the pages?

Apparently House Speaker Nancy Pelosi thinks that running the Catholic Church is something she could do just fine, if only she wasn't busy... doing whatever it is that she does when she's not failing to pass her legislative agenda and putting her foot in her mouth during interviews.

She had a fairly standard instance of foot in mouth over the weekend when on Meet The Press she opined:

I would say that as an ardent, practicing Catholic, this is an issue that I have studied for a long time. And what I know is, over the centuries, the doctors of the church have not been able to make that definition. And Senator–St. Augustine said at three months. We don’t know.... And so I don’t think anybody can tell you when life begins, human life begins.
Meet The Press, 8-24-2008

She went on to insist that the Church had only come to insist that life should be protected from the moment of conception within the last fifty years. Such high profile misrepresentation of Catholic teaching was too much for those who are officially tasked with preserving Catholic teaching in the US, and so within two days Ms. Pelosi had been set straight by:

• Archbishop Chaput and Bishop Conley of Denver



• Cardinal Rigali and Bishop Lori, via the USCCB website



• Archbishop Wuerl of Washington DC



• Cardinal Egan of New York



• And forthcoming in the Sept 5th issue of the San Francisco Diocesan newspaper is expected a "lengthy commentary" on Pelosi's remarks by Archbishop Niederauer.

One might think that under this episcopal onslaught our intrepid girl theologian would return to discoursing on subjects which are actually within her alleged realm of expertise. Not so! She issued through a spokesperson a statement including:

After she was elected to Congress, and the choice issue became more public as she would have to vote on it, she studied the matter more closely. Her views on when life begins were informed by the views of Saint Augustine, who said: ‘…the law does not provide that the act [abortion] pertains to homicide, for there cannot yet be said to be a live soul in a body that lacks sensation…’ (Saint Augustine, On Exodus 21.22)

Unfortunately, the Speaker does not, as the saying goes, know what the hell she is talking about. The passage in Exodus which is cited lays down what punishments should be meted out upon an assailant who accidentally causes a woman to miscarry, and the text is in some dispute resulting in different readings. Augustine apparently (based on the secondary sources that I've been able to find regarding Augustine's thinking on fetal development an abortion -- I've not been able to identify the alleged source which Pelosi quotes) took the passage to mean that someone who caused a fetal death before animation or ensoulment (according to Aristotelian science, it was the soul/form which allowed an animal to sense, move and grow) could be assessed a fine as a punishment, because he hadn't actually killed anyone, but rather destroyed a sort of seed. Someone who caused fetal death after ensoulment was considered to have committed homicide, and punished according to the "life for a life" principle.

For a bit more on the 4th Century science involved in Augustine's view, see this recent post I did over at Catholics Against Joe Biden.

So what we have here is a 21st Century politician trying to lecture modern prelates (who have doubtless read a great deal more Augustine than she) based on Augustine's analysis of an single line if Exodus and his 4th Century understanding of embryology. If Ms. Pelosi is incapable of seeing the many problems with trying to do this, it is perhaps best that she simply leaves the bishops to do their job and goes back to doing whatever it is that she is good at.

Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

[with apologies to U2]

Nearly thirty years of experience going to mass every Sunday (though I suppose the first few hardly count since I'm sure I spent the time squirming around under the pew in the fashion that I am constantly trying to discourage our offspring from doing) allows one to build up certain habits of expectation. Thus, after having heard a great number of sermons, one comes to realize that a sermon which begins, "When I was growing up, my favorite comic strip was Peanuts. And in one of my favorite Peanuts strips..." one is likely headed in for a rather disjointed ride. It's not Peanuts per se which is the problem, but that it often seems that when one starts out with pop culture reference chosen for its utter generality (Peanuts, Gilligans Island, etc.) the reason is that the homilist isn't actually all that sure what the readings are about, and so has picked the most general possible interpretation.

I am one of those people who, when he reads a book or sees a movie which fails to live up to the potential of its premise, can't seem to help endlessly revising the work in my head after the fact trying to figure out how it could have been good. Indeed, MrsDarwin and I sometimes spend rather more time discussing movies and books that were not quite good than ones that were. And so this week I found myself pondering the gospel reading rather more than I might have had the homily been more focused.

The parable of the treasure in the field has always struck me, despite its brevity, because as with the parable of the dishonest steward, we have here another story that essentially centers around crooked business dealings. In this instance: a case of insider trading. Some fellow is digging around in a field not his own and discovers that a treasure has been buried there. Obviously, it's not his, and he doesn't know whose it is, but he wants it. So he takes all that he has and buys the field. (One assumes that since the owner sells, the owner must not know the value of the treasure either.) The fellow thus turns a tidy profit because he knew more about the value of the field than did its previous owner.

Why bring up this not particularly honorable exchange?

Plato argues that no one ever desires anything other than the good -- and thus any object of desire must (at least in the mind of the desirer) be good. Thus, one can (and Christ in several parables does) take positive lessons from an otherwise negative example. Our treasure hunter may not be treating the field owner very honestly, but he has identified what is to his mind the greatest possible good: a tremendous treasure. In pursuing this good, he is ready to risk everything. He sells all that he owns.

Picture selling everything you own for a moment. I know the things I'd find hard to give up: my books, our furniture, our house, our computer. Picture selling absolutely everything you own, because you desperately want to have enough money to buy that field.

And keep in mind, our treasure hunter does not yet know for sure that the owner doesn't know about the treasure. He may refuse to sell. He may sell, but dig the treasure up and take it with him before vacating the property. Yet our treasure hunter is so focused on the good that he has found, so bent on owning the treasure, that he is willing to risk everything he owns on the chance of attaining the treasure. He sells everything.

The owner does indeed sell, and the hunter attains the treasure that he desired. He is now far more rich than he ever was before, and can buy back the possessions that he sold -- or even better ones. Yet now we can, as Christians, flip the story around and ask ourselves: Was this enough for him? Now that he owns the treasure, is he permanently and abidingly happy? Has he found his purpose in life?

It seems to me that the story cuts two ways.

On the one hand, the example of this treasure hunter spurs us on. He was willing to risk up everything, sell every possession that he owned, in order to attain the treasure. If we believe, as our faith tells us, that the prospect of eternal life in heaven is before us, should we not be equally ready to offer up all that we own, all that we hope for, in order to attain the Kingdom of God?

On the other, there seems to be an implicit contrast between this man's treasure and the eternal treasure that we are called to seek. He was willing to give up everything he owned, and yet what did he get? Gold? Silver? Precious stones? Just some cold hunk of matter that sat on a shelf. Like the treasure hunter, we are often ready to make great sacrifices in work, time and money for material gain. And yet, no amount of material gain will permanently slake our thirst. Our hearts are restless, Lord, until they rest in you.

And so even as we admire the utter devotion with which the man in the parable sought after what he imagined to be the highest good, we must ask ourselves: Is this kind of intensity to be lavished on things which will not, in the end, make us truly happy? And so we also recognize that the treasure hunter's zeal is misplaced. Our greatest efforts and sacrifices should be directed towards, not some treasure buried in the ground, but what will happen to us after we are buried in the ground.

Human Life

Papal Encyclicals are traditionally named after their first few words, rather than given a title. (This must give the popes good cause to seriously consider a good strong opening rather something something along the lines of "It has often been observed..." or "In my last encyclical I discussed...")

Pope Paul VI's encyclical issued forty years ago today began: Humanae vitae tradendae munus gravissimum, ex quo coniuges liberam et consciam Deo Creatori tribuunt operam, magnis semper ipsos affecit gaudiis, quae tamen aliquando non paucae difficultates et angustiae sunt secutae.

Roughly speaking: Human life, the passing on of which is one of the gravest responsibilities from which spouses freely and knowingly take on the work of God the Creator, the which always gives them great joy, but also not a few difficulties and a shortage of security.

Given that the Church is often accused of ignoring science and the wonders of human advancement, and that the Church's opposition to birth control is one of the most frequently cited examples of this, it is ironic that the Church's stance on sex and birth control is essentially a restatement of indisputable biological fact: Sex exists, at a biological level, for the creation of children. That's why we have "reproductive organs". Certainly, sex (now that it exists) fills several other purposes as well, but its primary purpose is indisputably reproduction.

The question that faced and continues to face humanity is what to do about this in the face of modern technology which allows us to strip that reproductive function (with degrees of success depending upon the method) out of the sexual act. Starting at the turn of the last century, and with gathering speed with each passing decade, the wider society embraced artificial birth control and the split between sex and human reproduction that this new technology allowed.

The results of this split are still being sorted out, and I suspect that it will be near the end of the new century before we begin to see with any clarity what a society in which sex is only optionally tied to reproduction looks like. With typical progressive zeal, few in the secular realm seemed to imagine at the time (from what I can tell) that anything but good could come from giving people the ability to regulate their fertility with relative certainty through cheap and widely available technology. Surely, people would live just as they had before, but with the ability to make sure they had children only when they were ready to lovingly care for them. How could this be anything but a blessing?

Lots of people with a supposedly rational and naturalistic view of the universe apparently imagined that changing a fundamental element of human physiology (which from a strictly naturalistic point of view must clearly be one of the biggest shapers of human society and culture) would leave existing social structures intact while allowing people to be just a bit more free and joyful in their sexuality. It did not prove to be so. People may not consciously think, "I will get married and be faithful to my spouse because having sex with lots of partners before and outside of marriage might result in having children who would not be raised in a stable family environment." And yet, at a naturalistic level, one of the primary reasons for marriage itself and for chastity before and faithfulness during it is that a stable family environment is required in order to raise the children which naturally result from sex. (Picture, if you can, that there was something we were capable of doing as humans that was as pleasurable and produced as a strong a sense of union as sex -- and yet which never resulted in any consequences other than physical pleasure and emotional closeness. Would society have organized itself in such a way as to require that one shared this act only within monogamous relationships?)

Paul VI, on the other hand, courageously and contrary to the advice of many who had their fingers upon the pulse of the world, reaffirmed in Humanae Vitae that human life is, as God's creation, meant to work a certain way. That sex results in new life is not some accident or medical deficiency to be "cured" by new medical technology, but rather the way in which humans were meant to cooperate in God's creative work. The reproductive potential of intercourse is inherent and essential to it, and to actively remove that potential changes the act in a fundamental way.

The Catholic teaching which he reaffirmed is not, as some critics claim, that women are baby-making machines or that it is immoral to have sex if you can't get pregnant at the present moment. Rather, the Church's acceptance of NFP but rejection of birth control and sterilization amounts to saying: Remain human. Play by the rules we were given. Our bodies are meant to work the way they work. And if you want to avoid having children, you will have to at the very least have less sex.

This is not necessarily easily lived out, even for those of us who accept it, since we cannot help but imbibe the modern ethos in which the sex life has nothing to do with creating human life. Yet this difficulty that we experience is essentially that of living as humans are -- rather than becoming one of that artificially created new race of the optionally fertile. And since we choose to continue living a human life, rather than a sex life, we know roughly what our social institutions and familial relations will continue to look like. We will continue to live as humans have always lived.

How exactly those who have chosen to live a sex life instead of a human life shall eventually sort out their society remains to be seen.