Obtuse (Part I)

From the “ecclesiastical punishments” file…

Christians today have absorbed the concrete pattern of modernity into their very soul. –Elizabeth Johnson, The Quest for God.

Not sure if I resent or resemble this remark. What I do know is that I have no earthly idea what it means.

Might I give you my thoughts on the Statement by the U.S. Bishops’ Committee on Doctrine, which earlier this week condemned this book?

At one point in The Quest for God, Johnson refers to the ‘obtuse prose’ of unnamed Enlightenment-era theologians. The joke is on her: She writes like a yoga instructor with one too many chai lattes in her.

Nonetheless, the Bishops’ intervention mystifies and discomfits me.

Why issue this statement? Johnson never sought the approval of any bishop. She published a book, thereby inviting argument. But does everyone who writes a book about God have to seek the approval of the bishop? No.

Now, certainly the business of a bishop, a pastor, any shepherd of souls, any teacher of the faith, involves teaching those entrusted to him using educational instruments that will genuinely enlighten the students.

Would any such teacher in his right mind ever use The Quest for God, or any other book by Elizabeth Johnson, as a means for achieving this goal? Certainly not.

But the Bishops’ statement makes Johnson the straw man that she never asked to be.

The statement highlights one very important theme, namely:

God transcends our human understanding. Yet it is possible to say things about God that are true.

Contemplating this thesis will save you the trouble of wading through the full twenty-page statement.

The Bishops’ statement argues its not-altogether-clear points in a way that I do not admire. Over and over again, the Bishops refer to the “Catholic theological tradition.” What, pray, is this?

It is: a shibboleth. Elizabeth Johnson can and should be reduced to smithereens–but not by swinging shibboleths over her head.

Johnson’s doctrine of God is simply untrue—to the extent that she even has a doctrine of God. (For the most part, actually, she poses as a reporter of the zeitgeist. Anderson Cooper is a better reporter of the zeitgeist, and St. Thomas Aquinas is a better theologian.)

That said, teachers of the faith ought not to rely on references to “the Catholic theological tradition” any more than they should rely on references to “most contemporary theologians.” Logical arguments convince more effectively.

Can God suffer in His divine nature? No. God cannot suffer in His divine nature. If He could suffer in His divine nature, He would not be God; He would be a different kind of being, a being subject to another’s power. God is not so subject.

St. Augusinte at the beach
On the other hand: Has God suffered and died in His human nature, which He assumed in the womb of the Virgin two millennia ago? Yes.

Do creatures add anything whatsoever to God’s divine being? No. God is infinitely perfect in Himself. If God lacked for anything, then His act of creation would not be sovereign and free; it would rather proceed from a need, a need that creation would fulfill. But God’s free will chooses what is good because it is good, not because He needs it.

If God does not act with free will, but rather out of need, then where could our free will have come from? We have not endowed ourselves with freedom; we have not generated ourselves. If God is not free, then neither are we. The thesis that we are slaves disgusts us. Therefore, we hold that God acts from free choice in creating, not because He lacks anything.

In the to-us-inconceivable scenario in which God never bothered to create the heavens and the earth, would God lack anything? No. On the other hand: Does the omnipotent and eternally blessed Creator rejoice in His creatures like a father rejoices in his children? Yes. We know this because the Church teaches us this with infallible authority.

I could—and I would like to—go on. But I would bore you, I fear.

I guess what I am saying is: Elizabeth Johnson’s sandbox is one that no sensible individual would ever climb into. The cool kids ignore Elizabeth Johnson’s sandbox, because it is a silly and shallow sandbox, and we prefer to play at the beach.

If, however, you choose to play in Elizabeth Johnson’s sandbox, slip in with a stiletto and cut her heart out. Don’t tromp in uninvited, carrying a Nerf bat, and beat her around the shoulders.

Better to meditate on the Athanasian Creed.

Better to watch VCU vs. Butler.

But alas! Your servant will be in church through the entirety of the game tomorrow! Could I wear an earpiece like a Secret-Service agent and listen to Robby Robinson during our parish council meeting? Probably couldn’t get away with that.

Lord, see what we sacrifice for You!

Retiring the Naps

New Bests above.

Best way to get rid of a headache: Take a nap.
Best mood-improvement method: Take a nap.
Best thing to do while watching golf on television: Take a nap.
Best way to avoid getting caught-up in the yoga craze: Take a nap.
Best way to go from desolation to consolation during a Holy Hour: Take a nap.
Best way to combat clerical ennui: Take a nap.
Best way to show your couch that you truly appreciate it: Take a nap.
Best way to pass the time on a train: Take a nap.
Not interested? Take a nap.

Explanation of First Corinthians 2-3

 

http://www.usccb.org/nab/bible/1corinthians/1corinthians2.htm

St. Paul preaching in the town square
St. Paul preaching in the town square

We are not born knowing how to live.  We do not have a built-in “philosophy of life.”  In order to learn how to think, how to judge situations, and how to make decisions, we listen to what other people say, and we try to find some kind of wisdom.

 

These days we can watch talkshows, or read newspaper columns, or surf the world-wide web in search of wisdom.  But in ancient times, people sought wisdom by listening to wandering teachers who went from town to town, speaking in public squares to anyone who would listen.  These teachers presented themselves as philosophers, and curious people came out to listen to what they had to say and to ask questions.

 

In his first letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul tries to explain the difference between the teachers of the Church and these philosophers.  The Apostles have not come to the city of Corinth to teach a “philosophy of life.”  They are not offering advice, tips to increase self-esteem, or dietary hints.

 

The Apostles have come, St. Paul insists, to bear witness to something that has happened, something that affects everyone on earth.  God has become man, and He has done what needs to be done for all sins to be forgiven.  The Son of God died on the Cross for us, and then He rose again from the dead.  This happened.  The Apostles came to tell everyone that this happened, and for no other reason.

 

This section of I Corinthians is very illuminating and encouraging for us, because we are up against the same problem.  We are surrounded by the suggestion that Catholicism is one “philosophy of life” among many; it is a “tradition” that is good for a lot of people, but not for everybody.  Christianity is one of mankind’s “great religions.”  The preachers and teachers of the Church must fit in; we must take our clerical place alongside all the preachers and teachers of all other religions, and Oprah, the Dalai Lama, Richard Simmons, and the yoga instructors of the world.

 

To this, St. Paul replies:  We do not offer yoga instruction, or self-help classes of any kind.  St. Paul insists:  I am not a philosopher; I have nothing whatsoever of my own to teach you.  I am not an expert of core-muscle toning or low-carb desserts.

 

I came to tell you that your Creator, the Almighty One Who made you out of nothing, died on the Cross for you, so that you can go to heaven.