Kakistocrat

Graham Greene’s The Power and the Glory (1940) is set in a southern state of Mexico, where an anti-clerical purge has the last priest on the run. He is heading towards the northern border, across which his Bishop has already journeyed, as have those priests who have escaped with their lives. However, this last priest is in many ways morally inferior to the general literary depiction of priests during the first half of the 20th century, and the Vatican noticed.

The book was denounced and the Vatican initiated a censorial investigation. Peter Godman, granted access to the investigation archives (not normally available for consultation by outside scholars) informs us of the concerns raised by the two censors.

The first censor viewed the book as "sad," because instead of God’s power and glory being on display, as the title of the novel suggests, all that is evident is despair. Godman summarizes his views:

‘Immoral’ or married priests; the ambiguity with which the central figure refers to God and the doctrines of the faith; the conviction of the virtue attributed to Protestants and atheists— all this made it impossible for Greene’s first reader in the Holy Office to see why the book was regarded as excellent literature.

The book should have never been written, according to censor, but since it had, Greene should be admonished by his Bishop and ‘"exhorted to write other books in a different tone, attempting to correct the defects of this one."

The second censor agreed with the first and thought that Greene should be told that "literature of this kind does harm to the cause of true religion [and that] in the future he should behave more cautiously when he writes…"

At this time, the high ranking Cardinal Giovanni Batista Montini inserted himself into the debate. Cardinal Montini (who would later become Pope Paul VI) wrote to Cardinal Pizzardo who was the head of the Holy Office (and in charge of all censorial investigations). Montini writes:

I see that it is judged a sad book. I have no objection to make to the just observations in the [censure of] this work. But it seems to me that, in such a judgment, there is lacking a sense of the work’s substantial merits. They lie, fundamentally, in its high quality of vindication, by revealing the heroic fidelity to his own ministry within the innermost soul of a priest who is in many respects reprehensible; and the reader is led to esteem the priesthood even if it is exercised by abject representatives…

Cardinal Montini suggested that a Monsignor De Luca be consulted for a third opinion before any action was taken. De Luca’s response was rather unambiguous. Greene did Rome credit, he stated, and that he was a sucsessor to Chesterton and Belloc (both English Catholic authors), and that in a country dominated by Protestantism, Greene strived to influence superior intelligences towards favouring Catholicism.

To condemn or even to deplore them (here De Luca refers to Waugh as well) would  be looked at askance in England, and would deal a grievous blow to our prestige: it would demonstrate not only that we are behind the times but also that our judgment is lightweight…

In the case of Mr. Greene, his harsh and acerbic art touches the hearts of the least receptive people and reminds them, however gloomy they be, of the awe-inspiring presence of God and the poisonous bite of sin. He addresses those who are most distant and hostile—those whom we will never reach…

Msgr. De Luca’s advice was never taken, and Greene was reprimanded by his local Bishop and told to take on a more constructive tone in his Books with regard to the Catholic faith.

Greene took it relatively well. He sent off a letter to Cardinal Pizzardo, slyly apologizing for not writing back sooner, saying he couldn’t because he was in the Far East doing his utmost to chronicle the "difficulties faced by the heroic Catholics of Indochina [who are] confronted by the Communist menace." He states that the aim of his book had been to contrast "the power of the sacraments and the indestuctibility of the Church on the one hand with, on the ohter, the merely temporal power of an essentially Communist state." On the advice of his friend Archbishop David Matthew, Greene also wrote to Cardinal Montini making him aware of the situation, seemingly unaware that Montini had intervened the year previous.

While Greene had interesting relationships with each of the Pope’s from Pius XII to John Paul II (John Paul II being the only one he extremely disliked), Greene felt closest to Paul VI.

In a 1965 letter to his daughter Lucy (who actually has a ranch somewhere here in Alberta…), Greene excitedly describes a recent audience with the Pope.

At the beginning of the week I went up to Rome because the Pope had sent me a message saying that he would like to see me.

The Pope talked to me for twenty minutes about why he liked my novels! He had read The Power & the Glory, The Heart of the Matter, Brighton Rock,& Stamboul Train. He gave me a rosary and a nice little case for Vivien…

In ways of Escape, Greene provides a few more details from this meeting:

When I met Pope Paul VI, he mentioned that he had read the book [The Power and the Glory]. I told him that it had been condemned by the Holy Office.

‘Who condemned it?’  [Paul VI inquires]

‘Cardinal Pissardo.’

He [Paul VI] repeated the name with a wry smile and added, ‘Mr Greene, some parts of your books are certain to offend some Catholics, but you should pay no attention to that.

Years later, when aspects of the Church really did come under Greene’s fire, he could still look back without bitterness to this whole Holy Office censorial investigation ordeal.

I wonder whether any of the totalitarian states, whether of the right or the left, with which the Church of Rome is so often compared, would have treated me as gently when I refused to revise the book on the casuistical ground that the copyright was in the hands of my publishers. There was no public condemnation and the whole affair was allowed to drop into the peaceful oblivion which the Church wisely reserves for unimportant issues…

K.

With my choice for the Republican nominee, Senator Sam Brownback of Kansas, long long gone (although he would be enjoying the status that Mike Huckabee is currently benefitting from, if only he would have scored just a few percentage points higher in the Iowa Straw Poll that we spoke of so long ago), I think it is time to follow who Sam Brownback has placed his support behind: Senator John McCain.

Like him or not, Senator McCain is, of all the major candidates (whether Republican or Democrat) a man who puts his principles ahead of his popularity. During the early stages of his candidacy he promoted an Immigration plan that incurred the very wrath of the people that would be voting in the Republican primaries. It almost killed his campaign, and the life he has recently found, I don’t think anyone imagined possible during those long summer months for him, yet (whether or not one accepts the failed Immigration plan) it is an example of him putting principle over politics, doing what he thinks is right, and to hell with everyone else. Perhaps he is not all the different from Dubya.

Most critical for me, is that John McCain is pro-life when it comes to abortion, and while abortion isn’t the only topic of concern during an election time, how a nation treats its most vulnerable should be central to every person’s voting conscience. While the unborn are not the only ones who are vulnerable, as much as the Democrats succeed in talking about other vulnerables (in my opinion usually only the ones that it is fashionable to speak about), the unborn receive no attention at all from them. (For those curious, in Abortion and Politics, both in the post and the comment section, I attempt to identify some reasons for the centrality of this issue).

McCain, is seen as a ‘maverick’ and enjoys somewhat of an anti-establishment reputation (an odd reputation for a 72 year old, and seasoned politician to have) and yet he is widely respected across party lines, and enjoys strong support from the registered Independents. All this will help him in the general election. While polls quickly change, at present he is the only Republican candidate that appears able to compete with the Democratic contenders (I suspect Giuliani would have no trouble keeping up, but in pinning his hopes on winning the Florida primary, it is entirely possible the Giuliani will not make it to the general election). 

McCain appeals to people because of his bluntness and honesty, and because he places his principles above his politics, and especially above his chances for political gain (like winning the Republican nomination). People across party lines can, and do, respect this (that is why there were rumors that John Kerry in 2004 wanted McCain as his running mate, despite coming from different parties, and that is why Al Gore’s running mate, Joseph Lieberman, who was turfed by the Democratic party for his support of the Iraq War, has endorsed McCain).

Whether it will be enough to help him overturn the deep voter cynicism regarding the Republican Party as a result of the Bush Administration remains to be seen, but Robert Novak has recently suggested that a Romney loss in Iowa could translate into a McCain win in New Hampshire, and ultimately in his winning the Republican nod. The first two came to be. And tonight is the Republican primary of South Carolina. No eventual Republican winner has ever lost in South Carolina, and with McCain competing with Huckabee at the top of the pack in South Carolina polls, there’s hope.

K.

Update: Sen. McCain takes South Carolina with 33% of the vote with 97% of the precincts reporting.

Against Reincarnation by Richard Reinhardt

Reincarnation is such an outrageous idea, you wonder how people ever came to believe in it. After all, it separates the body from the soul, as though it were a garment that could be exchanged for a new one, and thoroughly confuses personal identity. And I think that that’s why the Church rejects it. Christianity is the religion of the person, for when the Divine Person descended to assume the nature of man, He exalted the human person who carries that nature. Reincarnation depersonalizes humanity and the inevitable consequence of it is that it depersonalizes one’s relationship to G-d. Indeed, in a universe of reincarnated souls, no one has a personal relationship with G-d, because he represents any number of other persons who possessed the same soul, and whose sins and merits are taken into consideration in responding to one’s prayers.

Taking a positive approach: It would seem that if G-d descended to present Himself to us in order to save us in this world, when we are separated from Him by all the temptations of the flesh, we can surely be confident that He will present Himself to those who are open to Him after they depart this world and ascend into the realm of being which is the proper domain for the revelation of God’s healing love. For what conceivable reason would He restrain his eagerness to confer the goodness of Hig Glory upon us?

Someone might say: ‘Perhaps G-d wants to give us another chance at the merit of cooperating with His grace, or for the atonement of suffering, so that the Light he confers would have a more perfect relationship to the person receiving it.’ Well, if that’s the issue, there’s a much easier way to address it. Make sure that people live as long as necessary to do all the cooperating they need to do, or suffer all the suffering they need to endure. G-d could just as well have us live 700 years as 70 years, 1000 years as a 100 years. In fact, the Bible tells us that men used to live that long. I think we can assume that each person lives as long as he needs to establish his eternal destiny according to the standards of the Father, hidden from us, as they are, in the mystery of His Wisdom. Indeed, we might even infer from the Biblical stories of our longevitous ancestry, that our lives, which we measure in decades rather than centuries, are as complete when they come to an end as the lives of our forebears who lived so much longer.

Then there’s the argument from empirical data. There are children who purportedly demonstrate a knowledge of a past life that they could not have by any natural means. First of all, even if that did indicate that they were reincarnations of other people, we could not infer from that, that children who don’t have any knowledge of past lives are also reincarnated. At best, it makes a case for saying that the rare child demonstrates knowledge of a past life is reincarnated. Children who don’t aren’t. But even that goes much too far because the doctrine of reincarnation is invoked to explain their remarkable knowledge of another person’s life. It’s not proven by the data. It is a theory to explain the data. It is perfectly legitimate to accept the data but reject the explanation, for which no further proof is offered.

What other possible explanation could there be?

First of all, we don’t need to offer another explanation. It is perfectly respectable to say, ‘I don’t know.’ Don’t we do that all the time when some difficultly comes our way and, no matter how bad it is, we say to ourselves: ‘This is from the loving G-d, it must be for some good end.’ We don’t have to be able to explain God’s Providence in detail (which has not been revealed to us) in order to justify or validate our understanding of His Providence in general (which has been revealed to us). Similarly, we know that the soul is not reincarnated. Okay, I can’t explain how this little girl knows just where some woman hid her wallet before she died, but that doesn’t mean that reincarnation exists. It just means that I can’t explain God’s ways in detail.

Besides that, I think a quick look at the history of astronomy can add light to our problem.

It used to be that the greatest minds agreed that the planets moved in circles. The circle is the perfect form and they held it unfitting to the dignity of the celestial bodies to trace any less perfect an orbit. The intellect alone, uninformed by empirical realities which only the eye could reveal, could not begin to fathom the complexity of astronomical phenomena, or the maze of laws and chaos which governs the heavens. How naive their speculations seem to us, who have grown accustomed to checking out the facts before spinning theories.

We ponder the mysteries of Providence with our rational minds. Where sacred tradition guides the way, we can be certain of our knowledge. But when asked to explain the details, where is the eye that can see what is actually going on? We don’t have one. Our speculations are as groundless as those of the ancient philosophers who assigned circular orbits to the heavenly bodies because by the light of reason, unassisted by concrete knowledge, that’s what seemed right. The only intellectually honest thing to say is that the universe of thought and intention in the Divine creative act that forms a soul is at least as complex as the heavens. How can we, who have no concrete knowledge of what really happens there presume to explain the occasional strange phenomenon that arises?

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, says the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. Isaiah 55:8-9

The confession of ignorance is one of the foundations of faith. In the reports of children who remember what they could not have known, we confront our ignorance and are called to that confession of ignorance which places us before the greatness of G-d.

Richard Reinhardt

I just want to extend my appreciation to Richard for this post. Richard has contributed to a number of topics in the past, and I would extend the invitation to any of you who would like to move beyond only commenting, should you be interested in writing a Post. However, just so we all are aware, the views represented in this post, or in any future post by a Guest, do not necessarily reflect my own.

K.

While Christmas season has drawn to a close, there is a lingering suspicion that Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury has declared the Nativity to be "legendary." Sophia Borland’s "Archbishop says nativity a ‘legend,’ " of the Daily Telegraph is to thank for this, and bloggers have generally assumed she was reliable.

Before singling out some particularly mistaken blogs, allow me to briefly summarize the Archbishop’s statements. In an interview with Simon Mayo, the Archbishop is asked to comment on the historicity of certain characteristics found on a standard Christmas card.

The Archbishop notes that Jesus was in fact born in poor circumstances, that Mary and Joseph would have been nearby, and that Mary was indeed a virgin. As there is no mention of ox and asses being present, Williams notes that he "can live without the ox and asses." When asked about the Wise Men, he responds:

Well Matthew’s gospel doesn’t tell us that there were three of them, doesn’t tell us they were kings, doesn’t tell us where they came from, it says they’re astrologers, wise men, priests from somewhere outside the Roman Empire. That’s all we’re really told so, yes, ‘the three kings with one from Africa,’ — that’s legend; it works quite well as a legend.

He suggests that the shepherds and the Wise Men probably didn’t appear to Jesus at the same time and he suggests that the various scientific explanations that seek to explain what led the Wise Men to Jesus "make sense" to him.

There is nothing unorthodox about anything he has said here regarding the common elements of the Christmas tradition, although certain bloggers have made a great deal out of it.

The Boring Made Dull is bothered that "the Rt. Rev feels the need to concede so much turf" and this blogger believes that this is precisely why the Anglican Communion is having such difficulty filling the pews, but what Nativity-related Biblical turf have we seen the "Rt. Rev" conceding, I wonder?

Sisyphus appears surprised that December 25th is not necessarily the day Jesus was born on. Well, whose fault is that? He then extends his thoughts by saying "apparently that ubiquitous nativity scene that clutters courthouse lawns across the country is simply a legend." And after providing a block quote from Borland’s article, Sisyphus asks, "now, about that virgin birth…" but if s/he would have read the Archbishop’s interview, s/he would have also learned that the Archbishop affirms the virgin birth. My question for Sisyphus is the same I asked to Boring Made Dull: Show me biblically precisely what the Archbishop is conceding?

St. John Valdosta Blog identifies the Archbishop as "calling the Bible into question," and states "when one starts questioning what is plainly written in the Scriptures…" Same question to this blogger: What precisely does the Archbishop call into question that can be found in the nativity scenes of the Scriptures? What does the Archbishop question that is ‘plainly written in the Scriptures?’

Besides taking cheap shots at Anglicans throughout this blogger’s short post (ironically, in his ‘Post Comment Rules, the blogger states, ‘let’s attack ideas, not people’) the blogger closes by attacking the person, saying "Dr. Williams [has] about as much credibility as a cartoon character,’ and my question to this blogger is: How much credibility would you like to see attached to your claims, when you post a topic that you have not even slightly researched?

PBLosser expresses an overall cynicism with the presentation of Christianity in the media during Christmas, a presentation that suggests "that the Gospel writers are unreliable and not to be trusted, and certainly not to be taken at face value," but this blogger mistakenly believes that this assessment describes the Archbishop’s stance on the Nativity. Where, blogger, does the Archbishop insinuate that the Gospel writers are unreliable and not to be trusted, or not to be taken at face value?

At InfinityGoods, the blogger writes that "the Archbishop of Canterbury says there was no virgin birth, no magi (only a legend) and no star among other blabbering." Had this blogger read the actual interview with Simon Mayo, s/he would have discovered that in fact the Archbishop does believe in the Virgin Birth, does not think that the Magi are legendary, and that he does not suggest that there was not something that led the Magi to Jesus.

Finally, it seems that Tad Cronn did read the interview, although his interpretation is flawed. Cronn seems to suggest that Williams doubts the very existence of the Magi, when in fact, Williams simply suggests that all we are told Biblically is that "they’re astrologers, wise men, priests from somewhere outside the Roman Empire," so I would ask Tad: If Williams begins to get into trouble Biblically as your suggest, and yet Biblically, Williams only says what the Bible says about the Magi, how precisely is he getting into trouble?

Tad has a problem with Williams’ assessment of the Star. Williams is asked by Mayo is there is a star above the place where the child is. Williams responds:

Don’t know, I mean Matthew talks about a star rising, about the star standing still; we know starts don’t behave quite like that, that the wise men should have seen something which triggered a recognition that something significant was going on; some constellation, there are various scientific theories about what it might have been at around that time and they followed that trek; that makes sense to me.

The blogger is bothered that the Archbishop makes "the virgin birth optional." Well, he doesn’t really. He simply says that he would hate to set that up as some sort of hurdle for people before they sign on to the faith, and that in his own experience, it was over a period of years that the importance of the virgin birth became clear. His approach is pragmatic, and shows a recognition that certain elements of the faith take time to mature.

Tad believes that Williams "is afflicted with the same sort of creeping atheist that has wormed its way into churches around the world," and states that "if there was no magi, there was no star, there was no virgin birth, then there was no Son of God…" all leaning towards Tad’s eventual point which is mooted by the fact that the Archbishop does not, and has not rejected those things. Tad closes with a "If the archbishop has now decided that he needs to dissect the Bible and underline the unacceptable parts, I would suggest it’s time he hang up the robes and start his own religion." My question for Tad, which is not all that different than the one to all these other bloggers is this: Precisely what parts of the Bible, regarding the Nativity, has the Archbishop decided that he now needs to dissect and identify as unacceptable?

There’s something humourous about the Archbishop identifying Spong as a presenter of arguments that are astonishingly misrepresented and demonstrate a high level of confusion, or his calling astrology "bunk," or his description of the climate in Israel as being "pretty damn cold" but if we have a problem with him, it should rest in reality, which is not where the preceeding bloggers at the time found rest.

K.

In Millions, 7 year old Damian Cunningham comes across a sack of British pounds, and only has a few days to spend it before a transition is made to the Euro, which will render all these pounds as having no value. Desiring to be saintly, as well as conversing with many different saints who appear to him frequently, the arrival of a particular stranger one evening as Damian is filling out as many charity envelopes with cash, is not at all surprising.

Suddenly a big leather sandal stood on the envelopes. There was a huge hairy foot in it. I looked up. Above me was a brown robe with a massive man inside. Round his waist was a belt with seven chunky iron keys dangling from it. I sat up and hit my head on the biggest one. The big man said a swearword. I won’t say which one as it was unenlightening.

Damian identifies him: "St. Peter (d. 64)," to which the Saint swears again, and asks not to be reminded of his death. The Saint advises Damain not put his return address on the charity envelopes, otherwise he’ll be besieged. They discuss keys, and then come to the matter of the money, which Damian has recently discovered has come to him through dishonest means.  Then St. Peter tells him a story, which Damian thinks he knows, but St. Peter as a spectator to the event, has an interesting view point.

A little kid came up to him—about your size. His name was—I’ve forgotten. I still see him sometimes. Anyway, he came up with these loaves and sardines and Jesus blessed them and passed them round. He wasn’t trying to do a miracle, he was just one of those people who thought everything would be all right, you know. Anyway, so he passed these sardines, and the first person he passed them on. Know why? Because he had a honey cake and a piece of lamb hidden in his purse. So he passed the fish on and sneaked the honey cake out and made out he’d  just taken it off the plate. And the next person, he had a pocket full of dates, so he did the same—sneaked one out, passed the plate on. And so it went on. The truth was, every single bastard one of them had food with them, but they were keeping it to themselves. Hidden away. Everyone of them looking after Number One. And they would have starved where they stood rather than let anyone else see. But as the plate came round with the loaves and fish on, they all got their own food out and started to eat and, as they ate, they started to share and then it began, the biggest picnic in history.

And the plate went all the way round back to Jesus and this kid—I’ll think of his name in a minute—and it still had the fish and the loaves on. And Jesus was a bit taken aback, but when he looked up (he’d been talking all the time) he could see that everyone was eating. So he said, "What happened?" and I just said, "A miracle." Because I didn’t want to bad-mouth anyone in front of him. I was always bad-mouthing people and he hated it and it was turning into a nice evening. And at the time he didn’t say anything, and I thought I’d fooled him, but now I see it was a kind of miracle. The best kind. Because all those people had all they needed. Except something—I don’t know what you’d call it—courage maybe, or grace. And then this little kid. He stood up and suddenly everyone there got bigger.

I was recently humoured by a written conversation that took place before the end of the millennium between retired Episcopal Bishop John Shelby Spong, and Rowan Williams, who is now the Archbishop of Canterbury. While it was humourous for Williams to identify Spong’s essay as based on an astonishing level of confusion and misinterpretation, of relevance is Spong’s belief that the significance of the Biblical resurrection of Jesus is not in the fact that Jesus bodily rose from the dead (which Spong believes to have no merit) but in the fact that the Christian community rebounded from a cowardly collection of men who abandoned Jesus before his death, to a group willing to die for their faith after his death. It is in this working of the heart and mind, Spong asserts, that a concept of Jesus living on finds it value. Williams responds: "I don’t see why it should be easier for God to act in people’s minds than in their bodies," essentially saying that you should not argue against the historicity of the bodily resurrection because of a predisposition that limits the amount of work the supernatural can do in such manners, and then at the same time suppose that the supernatural does manifest itself in the hearts and minds of people and changes them from within. Certainly the latter is just as miraculous, and moving back to the story of the ‘Loaves and Fishes,’ even though the story does not challenge the account the Gospel authors left, to move individuals to generosity, to courage, to a more graceful way of living, is perhaps the greater miracle than simply producing food out of thin air.

K.