Marian Musings, Part IV

So far I think this series has done a decent job spelling out why Mary deserves to be regarded with heightened prestige by all Christians... and how that is grounded in Scripture... and why she does not deserve the kind of nonchalance and even dismissiveness I often see from Protestants and non-denominationals.

It's inevitable that a series like this will address specific "Catholic teachings" with which some Protestants have problems with. Before I venture deeper into those trenches, however, I want to pause and use this post purely to highlight how far back Christian devotion to Mary goes.

I placed quotation marks around the phrase Catholic teachings because: 1) it is crucially important to realize Marian devotion dates to long before there were any divisions in the church; and 2) most many of my fellow Protestants, at least here in the US of A, need reminding that Christianity includes not just Protestants, Catholics, and non-denoms, but also includes Orthodoxy.

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Regardless of how you want to look at it, history shows the Church dates back either to Christ's ascension or to Pentecost - which means it goes back to some point between the years 30 and 38, most likely in the earlier part of that range. For centuries, there was simply the Church, singular, not a bunch of different ones, and certainly not the endlessly fragmenting mishmash we see today.

The early Church covered a wide scope of geography, encompassing broad swaths of northern Africa and Europe in addition to the Near and Middle East. Within the first generation of apostles Christianity made it as far away from Jerusalem as India, where Thomas was martyred in the year 72, and archaeology shows it already existing in Britain, complete with bishops, as early as the 200's, so yes, geography meant there were lots of what modern American Protestants would call congregations. Nevertheless, it was one deliberately designed organization with a structure for ensuring doctrinal consistency and rooting out heresies.

This is why the New Testament contains all those letters penned by apostles (to the church/believers "in Corinth," "at Colossae," etc.) and why differences and disputes were settled at councils with leaders from the different regions all gathered in one place (Nicaea, Constantinople, etc.) to hash things out. It is impressive to say the least - and evidence of divine blessing, to say the most - that the Church succeeded, flourished, and expanded in this manner back when there was no modern media to communicate and no dependable transportation to travel across distances.

There were two official separations in the Church that occurred long before the Protestant Reformation. The first was in the fifth century, when five particular churches we now call Oriental Orthodox - specifically the Armenian, Coptic, Ethiopian, Syriac, and Indian - stopped recognizing subsequent councils while continuing to affirm the first three that came before.

The second, commonly called the Great Schism, became a done deal in the year 1054. It consisted of churches we now call Eastern Orthodox refusing to recognize the full authority of the Vatican, while continuing to affirm the first seven councils that came before then... At the time they were not considered separate churches per se, but four geographical Patriarchates with their respective headquarters in Constantinople, Antioch, Jerusalem, and Alexandria. As later centuries unfolded, names were changed and additional geographic churches were added to the Eastern Orthodox, so they we now see some having names that sound more familiar to us: Greek Orthodox, Russian Orthodox, Romanian Orthodox, Orthodox Church in America, etc.

What matters for the purposes of this series, however, is that all of these churches, regardless of whether they fall under the Catholic or Orthodox umbrella, share essentially identical teachings about Mary and always have. Their devotion to Mary pre-dates their separation, survived their separation, and remains as strong as ever. They all pray to her for intercession and all refer to her as the Theotokos, Mother of God.

It was not until much later, after Protestants appeared on the scene, that Mary-minimizing took place, and even then the minimizing was confined only to Protestant circles yet not to all Protestant circles. To this day, the Marian beliefs of many churches in the Protestant Anglican Communion are far more similar to Catholic and Orthodox beliefs than to anything you'll find in your local Southern Baptist, Global Methodist, or Calvary Chapel gathering.

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My prior posts already talked of how the Bible presents Jesus and Mary as a kind of package deal in which he was the savior but she played an indispensable role. Some critics claim this is a suspect interpretation which came about much later and was imposed on the Church by apostates, spiritual weaklings, and pagan-clingers. Those critics are wrong, for it is their claim which lacks evidence and is refuted by what we know from history.

In the interest of illustrating this, here comes a sampling of things from the early Church. This may not be as interesting as my previous posts and it will likely run afoul of my vow to be succinct, but it's striking that...

Ignatius of Antioch (50-117) was a disciple of John himself and wrote the following in his Letter to the Ephesians: "The virginity of Mary, her giving birth, and also the death of the Lord, were hidden from the prince of this world - three mysteries loudly proclaimed, but wrought in the silence of God." Note that of the three things he mentioned, the first two were specific to Mary. She was not incidental to, nor separable from, the salvation story, as born out by the fact they were repeatedly mentioned together when early Christians discussed the salvation and redemption of humanity.

Justin Martyr (100-165), in his Dialogue with Trypho, noted that "Eve, who was a virgin and undefiled, having conceived the word of the serpent, brought forth disobedience and death. But...(Jesus) became man by the Virgin, in order that the disobedience which proceeded from the serpent might receive its destruction in the same manner in which it derived its origin."

Melito of Sardis (100-177) is the author of the world's oldest extant Easter sermon, in which he proclaimed that Jesus "is the one who became human in a virgin...who was born of Mary, that beautiful ewe."

Irenaeus of Lyons (125-202), already quoted in Part II of this series, also wrote that "Mary, having the predestined man, and being yet a Virgin, being obedient, became both to herself and to the whole human race the cause of salvation." And that "the knot of Eve's disobedience received its unloosing through the obedience of Mary; for what Eve, a virgin, bound by incredulity, that Mary, a virgin, unloosed by faith."

In Instructor, Clement of Alexandria (150-213) wrote: "The Father of all is indeed one, one also is the universal Word, and the Holy Spirit is one and the same everywhere; and one is the Virgin Mother. I love to call her the Church."

Tertullian (155-225), also already quoted in Part II, had this to say in On the Flesh of Christ: "God recovered His image and likeness, which the devil had seized, by a rival operation. For into Eve, as yet a virgin, had crept the word which was the framer of death, equally into a virgin was to be introduced the Word of God which was the builder-up of life; that, what by that sex had gone into perdition, by that same sex might be brought back to salvation."

At least one fresco of Mary (this one) is in the catacombs beneath Rome and is dated to between 150 and 175.

Hippolytus of Rome (170-236) wrote in Treatise on Christ and Antichrist that "whereas the Word of God was without flesh, He took upon Himself the holy flesh by the Holy Virgin," and in Commentary on Psalm 22: "The Lord was sinless, because, in His humanity, He was fashioned out of incorruptible wood, that is, out of the Virgin and the Holy Ghost, lined within and without as with the purest gold of the Word of God."

In Church History, Book VII, Socrates Scholasticus said a then-extant writing of Origen (185-253) "gives an ample exposition of the sense in which the term Theotokos is used."

One of Christianity's oldest known hymns, Sub tuum praesidium (actually a Coptic prayer sung as a hymn), states "Beneath thy protection, We take refuge, O Theotokos; do not despise our petitions in time of trouble; but rescue us from dangers, only pure one, only blessed one." The earliest found papyrus of Sub tuum praesidium has been dated to the 200's, and although that dating is not definitive, Sub tuum praesidium is known to have been in liturgical use by the 400's because it was recorded in the Jerusalem Chantbook - which, in my opinion, makes the 200's dating credible at worst and likely at best.

Early icons of Saint Nicholas (270-343) often depicted Jesus and Mary being with him. This is due to him having been visited by them in two central moments of his life, and contemporaries of his having been visited by them about him.

In his Letter 59 (aka Epistle to Epictetus), Athanasius (297-373) successfully inveighed against novel ideas that threatened to de-emphasize Christology through their downgrading of Mariology. 

In Syriac Works, Third Volume, Ephrem Syrus (306-373) affirmed: "In the beginning, by the sin of our first parents, death passed upon all men; today, through Mary we are translated from death unto life."

In Catechetical Lecture 12, Cyril of Jerusalem (313-386) affirmed: "Since through Eve, a virgin, came death, it behooved, that through a Virgin, or rather from a Virgin, should life appear..."

In Panarion, Epiphanius of Salamis (315-403) asserted that "in reality it is from Mary the Life was truly born to the world. So that by giving birth to the Living One, Mary became the mother of all living." It was also in Panarion that he took the Church's lead in opposing a fledgling movement for honoring Mary too much; describing it as "awful and blasphemous" and stressing "it is not right to honor the saints beyond their due," he helped ensure that the movement, known as Collyridianism, was topped in its tracks.

Saint Basil (329-379) encouraged believers to "be not discouraged, but have recourse to Mary in all your necessities," and declared: "As the sun surpasses all the stars in lustre, so the sorrows of Mary surpass all the tortures of the martyrs."

The relics of Moses the Strong (330-405) are housed in the Paromeos Monastery in Egypt, which was established in 335 and is both named after and dedicated to Mary. The monastery's oldest standing church is itself dedicated to Mary. 

Don't ask me why the works of John Chrysostom (347-407) are numbered the way they are, but a shocking abundance of them are preserved and his Homily on Matthew 5, 5 affirms Mary's perpetual virginity with this passage: "The Virgin was untouched by man before the birth. He (Matthew) leaves for you to perceive the obvious and necessary conclusion; namely, that not even after her having become a mother, and having been counted worthy of a new sort of travail, and a childbearing so extraordinary, could that righteous man (Joesph) ever have endured to know her." ("know" is universally acknowledged as having been biblical slang for "have sex with").

Every cantankerous Protestant's favorite Church Father is Jerome of Stridon, who lived from 347-420. Even he declared "death came through Eve, but life has come through Mary" as well as this: "The closed gate, by which alone the Lord God of Israel enters, is the Virgin Mary."

In On Holy Virginity, Saint Augustine (354-430) said: "His (Christ's) mother is the whole Church, because she herself assuredly gives birth to His members, that is, His faithful ones."... And in Sermon 186, 1 he declared: "A virgin conceives, yet remains a virgin; a virgin is heavy with child; a virgin brings forth her child, yet she is always a virgin. Why are you amazed at this, O man? It was fitting for God to be born thus when He deigned to become a man."

Peter Chyrsologus (400-450) in Sermon 140 stressed: "Heaven feels awe of God, Angels tremble at Him, the creature sustains Him not, nature sufficeth not; and yet one maiden so takes, receives, entertains Him, as a guest within her breast, that, for the very hire of her home, and as the price of her womb, she asks, she obtains peace for the earth, glory for the heavens, salvation for the lost, life for the dead, a heavenly parentage for the earthly, the union of God Himself with human flesh."

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Everything above happened before the first church separation. That occurred after the Council of Chalcedon, which was held in the autumn of 451.

The Protestant Reformation is considered to have begun when Martin Luther completed his Ninety-five Theses in 1517. Five years later, in a sermon delivered on September 1, 1522, he said "the veneration of Mary is inscribed in the very depths of the human heart." In his personal prayer book that year he wrote: "She is full of grace, proclaimed to be entirely without sin - something exceedingly great. For God's grace fills her with everything good and makes her devoid of all evil."

In a sermon on March 11, 1523 he said: "Whoever possesses a good faith, says the Hail Mary without danger!"

In his Christmas sermon in 1529, Luther rhapsodized that "Mary is the Mother of Jesus and the Mother of all of us even though it was Christ alone who reposed on her knees."

In his Christmas sermon in 1531 he described her as the "highest woman and the noblest gem in Christianity after Christ," and stressed "we can never honor her enough."

And in On the Councils and the Church, his treatise against church authority that he wrote in 1539, he said "she is the true mother of God and bearer of God...Mary suckled God, rocked God to sleep, prepared broth and soup for God, etc. For God and man are one person, one Christ, one Son, one Jesus, not two Christs...just as your son is not two sons...even though he has two natures, body and soul, the body from you, the soul from God alone."

210 years after that, John Wesley, founder of Methodism and one of the most influential theologians of the entire Protestant Era, affirmed Mary's perpetual virginity. In his famous Letter to a Roman Catholic (written July 18, 1749), Wesley stated flatly that "the blessed Virgin Mary...both after as well as before she gave birth to Him continued as a pure and unspotted virgin."

I think it's safe to say that if we take Christianity seriously and aim to have the fullest possibility experience Christ offers us while on earth, we would be wise to ponder his mother much more than most of us do. He did not create her simply for us the Nativity scenes we set up and Hallmark cards we send out when December rolls around.

Note #1: The prior posts in this series are as follows:
    Part I: Introduction
    Part II: The New Eve
    Part III: Genesis to Revelation
    Part III-b: The Ark of the New Covenant                 

Note #2: The photo at the beginning of this post was taken at Saint Raphael Catholic Church in St. Petersburg, Florida.

Marian Musings, Part III-b

Succinctness is a quality I wish came naturally to me, but, burdened by a desire to cover every base and to address every objection before it even gets raised, I have a tendency to be long-winded.

I'm always wrestling with it, and that's a big part of the reason I'm approaching the subject of Mary with a series: Were I to sit down and write a single post called, say, "A Protestant Looks At Mary," I'd  publish something longer than a novella and nobody would ever read it. I don't know how successful I have been, but I do count it as a victory that this post is "III-b" rater than "IV." 

Part III delved into the Book of Revelation's depiction of the "woman clothed with the sun" (commonly interpreted as Mary) and noted that it transitions to said woman immediately after saying "God's temple in heaven was opened, and the ark of his covenant was seen within his temple." Although I had read the passage before, it was not until excerpting it for my blog that I read those words "ark of his covenant" - and the reason they leapt off the page is I knew many Catholics and Orthodox liken Mary to the Ark the Covenant.

Part of me cried out to start pontificating on that immediately because, you know, there it is! Fortunately, a wiser part knew that would mean walking into a rabbit hole and making the post way longer than intended. I decided to let it be, circle back later, and slip this stand-alone Part III-b into the series before moving on to whatever Part IV will be.

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So to repeat: Yes, prior to three days ago I was already aware of Catholics and Orthodox comparing Mary to the Ark of the Covenant. Sometimes they switch up the appellation by referring to her as "the Ark of the New Covenant," kinda like they often refer to her as the New Eve. Prior to three days ago I even found the ark symbolism valid and the concept interesting; I just didn't find it fascinating.

Regarding the symbolism: As everyone who's watched Raiders of the Lost Ark knows, the Ark of the Covenant contained within it the Ten Commandments, those words of God that were transmitted to mankind via stone tablets. Non-fledgling Christians should know the ark also contained an urn of manna, that bread-like substance God fed the Israelites in the desert, along with the staff of Aaron, Israel's first high priest... Well, eons later, Mary's womb contained God himself in the person of Jesus - aka the Word of God, the Bread of Life, and the High Priest all wrapped up in one supernatural gift of salvation brought to all who choose to truly accept it. Neat and tidy.

Maybe too neat and tidy for my brain to think of as "fascinating," or too symbolic for me to spend much time thinking at all. Until, that is, I noticed the Bible talking about the ark being seen in God's temple right before it talks about the devil commencing an epic war against the woman: That grabbed my attention and got me digging to see if there's anything more to this Mary-as-ark narrative. Turns out there is.

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The Gospel of Luke says that when Elizabeth was visited by pregnant Mary, she "was filled with the Holy Spirit, and she exclaimed with a loud cry, 'Blessed are you...'" Here we come to one of those brain-tingling translation impasses where English is brimming with tons of words that function as synonyms, yet is hamstrung by the fact that words in one language often do not have an exact match in another. That can raise a dilemma.

In this instance, the Greek word we see rendered as "exclaimed" in our English Bible translations is anaphoneo. Starting around the twelve-minute mark of this video, Curtis Mitch points out that: 1] the visitation scene from Luke is the only place in the New Testament that the word anaphoneo gets used, while 2] in every place it gets used in the Old Testament, anaphoneo is in conjunction with the Ark of the Covenant. I place that in the category of things that make you go hmm.

More than a few commentators correctly point out that Elizabeth lived in the hill country of Judah, and Mary remained with her for "about three months" before returning home (Luke 1:56)... which fits snugly with the Old Testament telling us that, also in the hill country of Judah, David had the ark remain with Obed-edom the Gittite for "three months" before bringing it to its proper home in Jerusalem (2 Samuel 6:11).

They also point out that before leaving the ark with Obed-edom, David asked, "How can the ark of the Lord come to me?" (2 Samuel 6:9)... which fits snugly with Elizabeth asking Mary, upon her arrival, "why is this granted to me that the mother of my Lord should come to me?" (Luke 1:43)

Plus, there's this: The virginal conception of incarnate Jesus is explained, in Luke 1:35, as happening by virtue of God "overshadowing" Mary... which fits at least somewhat snugly with Hebrews 9:5 telling us that the the ark's mercy seat, dwelling place of the pre-incarnate God, was "overshadowed" by the gold cherubim.

And this: According to 1 Samuel 5, after the ark was brought into the temple of the Phillistine god Dagon, Dagon's statue fell "face downward" with its hands "cut off"... while Genesis 3 and Revelation 11-12 show the devil opposing the woman and being doomed to fail. This too makes for a snug fit.

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I'm not certain how many coincidences need to be strung together before you have a pattern that cannot be denied, but I am certain that patterns are never random and thus are almost always deliberate.

Do I now find the concept of Mary being the Ark of the New Covenant to be fascinating? Yes.

Do I find it to be more compelling now than a few days ago? Yes.

Do I know exactly what the concept means? Nope. However, I'm positive it does not mean Christians should be Mary-minimizers in our thinking.

Is the concept ancient, or did it come around late in the game? It is ancient - as evidenced by Gregory of Neocaesarea (213-270) having noted in homily that "the holy Virgin is in truth an ark, wrought with gold both within and without, that has received the whole treasury of the sanctuary."

Would I, who am neither Catholic nor Orthodox, deny or oppose the teachings of those churches where this concept is concerned? No.

Note #1: The prior posts in this series are as follows: Part I, Part II, and Part III.

Note #2: The photo at the beginning of this post was taken at Saint Nicholas Greek Orthodox Cathedral in Tarpon Springs, Florida.

Marian Musings, Part III

The first post in this series ended by commenting about a passage from Genesis that refers forward to Mary, and the second one began by elaborating on that passage. Today, let's turn all the way to the back of the Bible to consider one that refers backwards to her.

When most people hear "Book of Revelation," they immediately think of a prophetic work about the end times, but that's not necessarily what it is. Much of it seems to be referring to contemporaneous events, and parts of it are about things that had already happened. The most famous of the latter is Revelation 12's depiction of an epic showdown between a woman often interpreted as Mary and a dragon explicitly identified as Satan.

As is often the case when perusing the Bible, we would do well to remember that its books were not divided into chapters and verses when they were written. That came much later, and while it has been a great help for quickly locating specific things, an unfortunate side effect is that it often leads people to isolate those things and fail to read them in their proper context. In the case of Revelation, many folks open right to Chapter 12 because they've heard of "the woman in Revelation 12" and are eager to see what that's all about; in their haste, they never see what's happening in Chapter 11 and don't quite grasp that the one is a seamless continuation of the other.

Chapter 11 closes by declaring "God's temple in heaven was opened, and the ark of his covenant was seen within his temple. There were flashes of lightning, rumbling, peals of thunder, an earthquake, and heavy hail." That flows directly into the first sentence of Chapter 12, which opens with the capitalized word "And" - which is of course a conjunction, signifying it is mid-thought and connected to what came before, yet too many people look right at it without glancing back to see what came before.

In any event, Revelation 12 states: And a great sign appeared in heaven: a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars. She was pregnant and was crying out in birth pains and the agony of birth. And another sign appeared in heaven: behold, a great red dragon, with seven heads and ten horns, and on his heads seven diadems... And the dragon stood before the woman who was about to give birth, so that when she bore her child he might devour it. She gave birth to a male child, one who is to rule all the nations with a rod of iron, but her child was caught up to God and to his throne, and the woman fled into the wilderness, where she has a place prepared by God... And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world, and his angels were thrown down with him... And when the dragon saw that he had been thrown down to the earth, he pursued the woman who had given birth to the male child... The serpent poured water like a river out of his mouth after the woman, to sweep her away with a flood. But the earth came to the help of the woman, and swallowed the river... Then the dragon became furious with the woman and went off to make war on the rest of her offspring, on those who keep the commandments of God and hold to the testimony of Jesus. (verses 1-6, 9, 13, 15-17)

As with Genesis 3:15, which I discussed in the previous posts, it requires very adventurous reading to fail to perceive the figures of Jesus and Mary in Revelation 12. And Satan is right there too, in each excerpt.

One needn't be a million dollar exegete to see two and two coming together and equaling four. On the one hand, the Bible's first book says enmity will pit the woman and her offspring against the serpent and his offspring. On the other, its final book says a dragon hated the woman, hunted her and her offspring, and plotted to devour a particular one of those offspring at birth. It's not going out on a limb to conclude that the woman is Mary; that her offspring consist of Jesus and his followers; that the dragon and serpent are one and the same, aka Satan; and that Satan's offspring consist of his human followers in addition to the demons who joined him in rebelling against God.

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There are other ways of looking at Revelation 12, of course. Many see the woman symbolizing Israel, not Mary, with the twelve stars representing the tribes rather than the apostles... Almost everyone agrees the male child is Jesus - but those who don't want the woman to be Mary are quick to digress that Jesus "came from Israel" in the sense that his genealogy traces back to Abraham... Some scholars intriguingly point out, as Michael Heiser does here, that when you consider constellations known to ancient Hebrews (who, don't forget, were very much into astrology) the imagery in Revelation 12:1-4 accurately describes what was visible in the sky for about 80 minutes on one particular night in 3 B.C. - which, so the thinking goes, must have been the window of time in which Jesus was born.

Personally, I think all these are correct. It's not like they're mutually exclusive, and it strikes me as silly to look at them as a collectively self-competing either/or proposition, rather than a both/and/all premise. Doesn't the latter seem more like what we should expect from the word of God?

Some Christians accuse other Christians of subtracting from their honor of God by the mere fact that they honor Mary. I think that's rubbish, if you don't mind me borrowing a word from our British friends, for it depends on the same kind of either/or fallacy that would drive one to insist the woman in Revelation 12 can't represent Mary if she also nods to the fact that Virgo appeared in a certain alignment with other constellations that one night 2,028 years ago.

As noted in this post and my prior one, Genesis and Revelation present major, beginning-and-end referents to Mary that are beyond obvious. They weren't put there for the audience to ignore or de-emphasize.

Mary-minimizers tend to speak of her as what John Henry Newman called "merely...the physical instrument of our Lord's taking flesh." While they may concede she was somehow blessed or honored by being that instrument, they quickly retreat to their comfort zones by refusing neglecting to reflect on how much that implies.

I've seen them disparage the views of fellow Christians by reflexively referring to Mary as "no better than any other woman," or as "just a woman," or "a dead woman," or "an earthly woman." I've witnessed this not only in the sewers of Internet comments sections, but also in a few face-to-face conversations. It bothers me not only because it's unbecoming, but because it at best prances on the line of insulting Christ's chosen mother, and sometimes charges across that line and does insult her. And to insult her is to insult him who created and chose her, is it not?

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One of the Mary-minimizers' favorite comfort zones is a belief that she vanished from the record after the crucifixion. That belief is unbiblical. Scripture shows her not only post-crucifixion, and not only post-resurrection, but even post-ascension, for she was present at Pentecost.

According to Acts 1:14, Mary was in the upper room when the decision was made for Matthias to become the twelfth apostle (seeing as how Judas had, you know, lost that position some time before), and the very next scene is the coming down "from heaven a sound like a mighty rushing wind" which "filled the entire house where they were sitting...And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit gave them utterance" (Acts 2:2,4).

No other woman is confirmed by name as having been there. In fact, no other person is confirmed by name as having been there except for the eleven apostles that needed to know who'd be joining them. I daresay this makes Mary apostolic.

I also daresay that her co-work with God far exceeds anyone else's in history: The implication of Luke 1:38 is that she assented to be Jesus' mother, which means she freely agreed to the assignment rather than being forced to accept it... Then she nurtured Jesus when he was dependent and provided him paternal guidance to which he "was submissive" - and all the while she paid studied attention as Jesus "increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God," and she "treasured up all these things in her heart" (Luke 2:51-52)... Then, at the cross, as Father John Waiss notes, "She stands. She watches. She fulfills Jesus' command: watch and pray (Matt. 24:42, 26:41, etc.). She listens to Jesus, and she receives his beloved disciple, given to her as a son."... Then, like I observed above, she stood firmly ensconced at the center of the church when the apostolic age sprang forth.

It is because of things like these that Jon Sweeney said of Mary: "She believed, and in so believing, became the first true disciple of her as yet unborn son...Mary is the chief disciple because she shows us how to wait on God, expect God, have awe for God, and hope for God, but not with an easy credulity. Hers was not an unquestioning belief; these qualities are, instead, the qualities of a mature disciple."

And with that, I'll sign off for now. Until next time, take care.

Note: The photo at the beginning of this post was taken at Saint Nicholas Greek Orthodox Cathedral in Tarpon Springs, Florida.

D-Day

 

81 years ago this morning, human beings from the forces of eight Allied nations laid their lives on the line in ways most of us can hardly fathom. Two-thirds of them were from the U.S., U.K., and Canada.

Traveling in ships and amphibious vessels, they set sail from England in the pre-dawn hours of June 6, 1944, bound for the Normandy beaches of Nazi-controlled France. It was the first time since the 1600’s that any invading military had crossed the perilous waters of the English Channel, and as day broke tens of thousands of troops disembarked from their landing crafts and plunged into Hell on Earth.

Slogging first through waves and then through sand, they were sitting ducks for the gunners positioned on shore. Bullets rained on them amidst a cacophony of explosive reverberations. The men at the fronts of the landing crafts were the first ones to step on the beach, and they stepped onto it knowing they were likely to get shot. Each of them was acutely aware he might be entering the final seconds of his life.

Approximately 10,000 Allied men were killed or wounded that day. However, in bearing that brunt of brutality, those who were first on the scene helped clear the way for 100,000 of their fellow soldiers to reach shore and advance against the enemy, freeing occupied towns as they went. By the end of the month more than 800,000 men had done so, and the war’s momentum had swung in the Allies’ favor. Within a year the Nazis surrendered unconditionally.

In military parlance, the phrase “D-Day” refers to the first day of any operation. But in the public’s mind, it will always refer to the events on the beaches of Normandy. Few of the men who braved the bullets on that distant shore are still with us, and they are dying away at a rapid rate. Let us give them our thanks while they're still alive to hear it.

After all, we might never have tasted freedom if not for the valor of the soldiers of '44. Because of that, we must resolve to pass their story on to our children, so that they may pass it on to theirs, to preserve what Abraham Lincoln referred to as "the mystic chords" of our nation's memory.

Marian Musings, Part II

My previous post ended by quoting God's words to the serpent in Genesis 3:15 - "I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel" - and observing that although "there are many layers of interpretation that can be applied...it requires very adventurous reading to fail to perceive the figures of Jesus and Mary in this early antediluvian passage."

I'm not here to write a tome about all those layers, but I might as well pick up where I left off.

Genesis 3:15 doesn't attach the word "woman" to a specific name, but it doesn't need to. Though we modern Westerners tend to demand everything be spelled out with kindergarten clarity down to the most minute details, we are only a fraction of mankind - a tiny fraction of it throughout history - and we need to remember that Scripture is for all of humanity for all time. I don't think it's hyperbolic for me to say that a person who disagrees with that is probably not Christian.

Eve was originally not called Eve. When she is first introduced, Genesis 2:23 states "she shall be called Woman," and starting then and running through the fall, the text refers to her simply as "the woman." It does this even when God is the one speaking. The name Eve is not given to her until Genesis 3:20, after she (along with complicit Adam) caused the fall.

You might be asking, "What does that have to do with Mary?" Stick with me. I'll get there.

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Thousands of years after the fall which Eve, then called Woman, helped precipitate, the virginal conception of Jesus occurred. Shorty after that, pregnant Mary visited pregnant Elizabeth and Luke 1:42-43 tells us that Elizabeth, upon hearing Mary's greeting, "exclaimed with a loud cry, 'Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! And why is this granted to me that the mother of my Lord should come to me?'"

So Elizabeth knew the savior was the son, not the mother, and she knew the son was in her home, yet the wonder she expressed was over the fact his mother had come. This is just one of many examples of what my previous post described as Jesus and Mary being presented as a kind of package deal.

Mary then sings her Magnificat. Within this one song, three conservative scholars working independently of each other - David Lyle Jeffrey (Scottish Baptist), Scot McKnight (Anglican Church in North America), and Tim Perry (Evangelical) - identified allusions and references to twenty-nine Old Testament passages. Her ties run deep into the long pre-Christian past that preceded her.

When Mary and Joseph retrieve 12-year-old Jesus from the temple, Simeon prophesies in Luke 2:34 that "this child is appointed for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is opposed"... then he immediately warns Mary that "a sword will pierce through your own soul also." Again we see some kind of package deal; there is more going on here than "just" motherhood.

Like John Henry Newman (1801-1890) wrote about the church fathers Irenaeus, Justin Martyr, and Tertullian - all of whom lived in the second century - "they do not speak of the Blessed Virgin merely as the physical instrument of our Lord's taking flesh, but as an intelligent, responsible cause of it; her faith and obedience being accessories to the Incarnation..."

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Somewhere around the age of 30, Jesus begins his public ministry because Mary prompts him to during the wedding feast of Cana. At that pivotal moment in history, when she beckons him into service by notifying him the wine has run out, he responds not by calling her mother or mom but by gravely referring to her as "Woman."

He then seems to plead for her to change her mind by adding "my hour has not yet come" (John 2:4), and her response to that is one of correction. Mary communicates to Jesus that his time has come by ignoring his protest and instead addressing the servants with the simple command to "do whatever he tells you." And Jesus, for lack of a better word, submits.

Four verses later water has been made into wine, signifying his first public miracle, and in that instant the Rubicon is crossed. There could be no turning back once the cat was out of the bag. Here we get a strong sense of what Eve's doings in Genesis have to do with Mary's in the New Testament: Eve was Woman, but lost that designation when she precipitated humanity's fall by succumbing to the serpent's prodding; Mary, on the other hand, receives the designation of Woman when she precipitates humanity's redemption by prodding Christ to go public.

Some three years later, as if to drive home the point of his mother's bestriding importance to all of mankind, Christ bookends his ministry by again referring to her as "Woman" from the cross. John 19 shows him addressing Mary this way to open his final spoken words to her before that moment when he "bowed his head and gave up his spirit."

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It is not some late-arriving novelty to ponder these things and see Mary as a human figure of supernatural importance. Irenaeus (125-202) wrote in Against Heresies III that "as by a virgin the human race had been bound to death, by a virgin it is saved, the balance being preserved, a virgin's disobedience by a virgin's obedience." Tertullian (155-225) commented in On the Flesh of Christ that "Eve had believed the serpent; Mary believed Gabriel; the fault which the one committed by believing, the other by believing has blotted out."

We see this kind of theology early - comparing Mary and Eve as mothers to all, while contrasting them because only Mary points to redemption - which is why Catholics often refer to Mary as "the New Eve."

What we don't see early - in fact, don't see for the first 80 or so percent of Christian history, not until after the Reformation's battle lines had already been drawn - is opposition to this kind of theology. That is what prompted Father John Waiss, a priest and member of the Prelature of Opus Dei, to write in 2023 that "identifying Mary as the New Eve came as naturally to early Christians as it did to call Christ the New Adam."

Personally, I find it strange that I've heard some fellow Protestants decline to call Mary the New Eve despite not hesitating at all to call Christ the New Adam. And with that observation, I'm going to call it a day even though I'm tempted to go on. Until next time, take care.

Note: The photo at the beginning of this post was taken at Saint Timothy Catholic Church in Lutz, Florida.

Marian Musings, Part I

Mary, mother of Jesus, is a name that cannot be spoken without eliciting a response inside the person who hears it. When I consider how important a figure she is in Christianity - and how her goodness is beyond doubt even among non-Christians - I find it strange that some Christians react to her name in ways that are, shall we say, less than enthusiastic.

Like most Gen X Americans, especially those of us who grew up in the southeastern United States, most of my religious rearing took place in what you would call Protestant settings. As the grandson of a Baptist preacher who lived until I was 37, I was no stranger to church talk and biblical interpretation growing up, however anti-Catholicism was not part of the cultural river in which my canoe was rowed. Sure, I heard there were folks out there somewhere who thought Catholics practiced idolatry and relegated Jesus to Mary, but I never encountered them so I assumed they must be a tiny fringe.

Although the very young me didn't know anyone who asked Mary for intercession, the very young me also didn't know anyone who considered it sacrilege for others to do so. I didn't hear songs being sung about her, but I also didn't hear anything less than positive being said about her.

When I got older and finally (is that the right word?) witnessed cat fights between Protestants and Catholics over the subject of Mary, the spectacle struck me as discordant with everything I knew to be true about Christ and his mother... and as someone who is for all intents and purposes a Protestant, at least in the way that term is currently used, I cringed over the fact that these cat fights always seemed to get started by boorish Protestants behaving insufferably.

What brings me to my keyboard now is, in general, a desire to look at Mary without looking through partisan filters... and in particular, a sense of obligation to consider Catholic teachings about her without presupposing they are wrong. This will obviously take more than one post, so for today I'll go with the basics.

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It should go without saying that Mary plays a unique and divinely ordained role in history that warrants heightened regard from us.

Out of all the women he would ever create, God chose her to bear his incarnate self and care for him when he was dependent. Let's not forget that Jesus was mortal when he was on Earth (he did die, after all) and needed food, rest, shelter, etc. just like the rest of us. That Mary was given the role of incubating, nursing, and raising him speaks volumes.

The Bible itself says "all generations will call (Mary) blessed" (Luke 1:48) and depicts that as a good thing, so you can't blame Catholics for feeling put off when Protestants accuse them of downgrading God by honoring her.

Flip backwards and you will see that verse 41 says "when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the baby leaped in her womb," after which verse 44 records Elizabeth telling Mary "when the sound of your greeting came to my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy."

My bank account would be significantly fatter if I had a dollar for every time I've heard someone claim John the Baptist leaped inside Elizabeth's womb because he felt the presence of Jesus enter the house. That is certainly a reasonable inference to make, however it is not what the text says: Luke is abundantly clear that Mary's voice is what precipitated the rejoicing of pregnant Elizabeth and in utero John.

The Gospel of Matthew informs us that when Jesus was a toddler, his family fled to Egypt to escape the death squads Herod sent to kill "all the male children in Bethlehem and in all that region who were two years old or younger." Note that what it actually says is "an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, 'Rise, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt...And he rose and took the child and his mother by night and departed to Egypt" (2:13-14).

Glance forward several verses and you read that "when Herod died, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt, saying, 'Rise, take the child and his mother and go to the land of Israel, for those who sought the child's life are dead.' And he rose and took the child and his mother and went to the land of Israel" (2:19-21).

The instructions from Heaven are explicitly about Jesus and Mary. The angel does not charge Joseph and Mary with transporting and protecting Jesus, but rather charges Joseph with transporting and protecting Jesus and Mary. The child is the savior, not the mother, yet they are presented as a kind of package deal. We shouldn't just shrug this off. After all, the biblical authors came from a culture different than ours and neither they nor their audience were familiar with our proclivity for throwaway words.

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It's unclear whether Augustine really said "the New Testament is concealed in the Old, and the Old is revealed in the New," but serious Christians all agree with that concept: It's how we link the Old and New Testaments together as Scripture, how we see Old Testament foreshadowings of Christ, and, let's be honest, it's a foundation stone upon which Christianity itself depends.

With that in mind, consider some of the earliest words in the Bible, spoken by God to the serpent after the latter deceived Adam and Eve into falling: "I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel" (Genesis 3:15).

Here we see the package deal again. Actually not again, but for the first time and practically right out of the gate. There are many layers of interpretation that can be applied to Genesis 3:15 and it would take ages to go through them all, so I won't tackle it right now, but I will say this: It requires very adventurous reading to fail to perceive the figures of Jesus and Mary in this early antediluvian passage.

Note: The photo at the beginning of this post was taken in front of St. Mary Catholic Church in Tampa, Florida.

Memorial Day

Today is Memorial Day - a day set aside not so we can grill burgers and toss back beers while the kids swim in the pool, but for the solemn purpose of honoring our servicemen who died while defending America's citizens from enemies who have sought to drive freedom from our shores.

From the first person who perished on Lexington’s village green in 1775, up to the most recent fatality in the Middle East, the list of the fallen is long. Each person on that list made a sacrifice that was ultimate in its earthly finality. We should resolve to do everything in our power to defend America's founding principles against all foes - domestic in addition to foreign, orators in addition to terrorists - to ensure that those people did not die in vain.

To observe past Memorial Days, I have published a couple letters that were written by soldiers during wartime. Here they are again.

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This first one was from Sullivan Ballou, a major in the U.S. Army during the Civil War, to his wife. He was killed in the Battle of First Bull Run one week after writing it:

July 14, 1861

Camp Clark, Washington

My very dear Sarah:

The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days - perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more.

I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans on the triumph of the government and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and sufferings of the Revolution. And I am willing - perfectly willing - to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this government, and to pay that debt.

Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me unresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield. The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And it is hard for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us.

I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me – perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar, that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battle field, it will whisper your name. Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often times been! How gladly I would wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness.

But, O Sarah, if the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they love, I shall always be near you, in the gladdest days and in the darkest nights…always, always, and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath, as the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.

Sarah do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.

Sullivan Ballou

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This next letter was written by Arnold Rahe, a sergeant in the U.S. Army Air Corps during World War II, with instructions that it be delivered to his parents if he did not survive. He was killed in action shortly thereafter:

Dear Mom and Dad,

Strange thing about this letter; if I am alive a month from now you will not receive it, for its coming to you will mean that after my twenty-sixth birthday God has decided I’ve been on earth long enough and He wants me to come up and take the examination for permanent service with Him. It’s hard to write a letter like this; there are a million and one things I want to say; there are so many I ought to say if this is the last letter I ever write to you. I’m telling you that I love you two so very much; not one better than the other but absolutely equally. Some things a man can never thank his parents enough for; they come to be taken for granted through the years; care when you are a child, and countless favors as he grows up. I am recalling now all your prayers, your watchfulness -- all the sacrifices that were made for me when sacrifice was a real thing and not just a word to be used in speeches.

For any and all grief I caused you in this 26 years, I’m most heartily sorry. I know that I can never make up for those little hurts and real wounds, but maybe if God permits me to be with Him above, I can help out there. It’s a funny thing about this mission, but I don’t think I’ll come back alive. Call it an Irishman’s hunch or a pre-sentiment or whatever you will. I believe it is Our Lord and His Blessed Mother giving me a tip to be prepared. In the event that I am killed you can have the consolation of knowing that it was in the “line of duty” to my country. I am saddened because I shall not be with you in your life’s later years, but until we meet I want you to know that I die as I tried to live, the way you taught me. Life has turned out different from the way we planned it, and at 26 I die with many things to live for, but the loss of the few remaining years unlived together is as nothing compared to the eternity to which we go.

As I prepare for this last mission, I am a bit homesick. I have been at other times when I thought of you, when I lost a friend, when I wondered when and how this war would end. But, the whole world is homesick! I have never written like this before, even though I have been through the “valley of the shadows” many times, but this night, Mother and Dad, you are so very close to me and I long so to talk to you. I think of you and of home. America has asked much of our generation, but I am glad to give her all I have because she has given me so much.

Goodnight, dear Mother and Dad. God love you.

Your loving son,

(Bud) Arnold Rahe

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God bless them all, and may they never be forgotten.

Caribou in the Caribbean

"It would be cool to have an American pope, but I think the odds of that are only slightly higher than the odds of Norwegian reindeer migrating to the Bahamas." (Me, 4 days ago)

"Howdy folks. I just thought I'd share with you a few thoughts about the newly elected pope. As I'm sure you've heard, the American cardinal Robert Prevost was elected and has chosen the name Leo XIV for his pontificate." (Jimmy Akin, 4 hours ago)

I guess that goes to show you should never take betting advice from me.

And yes, I'm aware caribou aren't actually reindeer and the Bahamas aren't actually in the Caribbean, but I always aim for alliteration when it comes to headlines, so there you go. Don't judge!

Over the past several hours, countless podcasters, talking heads, and other so-called "influencers" have suddenly become experts on this man they knew only a little about before today. I decline to join the orgy of overwrought self-importance in which their egos are indulging.

Pope Leo XIV has been in office for less than half a day as I type these words, and I have a sneaking suspicion that the right thing for all of us to do is form our opinions about his papacy based on things he does as pope. Meaning, you know, on things he does going forward - rather than on things we've heard he thinks or doesn't think, or on things we've heard he did or didn't do in the past.

He: is an American, born in Chicago in 1955... got his bachelor's degree at Villanova and later earned a doctorate in canon law from the Pontifical University of Saint Thomas Aquinas, whose alumni include Fulton Sheen (1924) and Pope John Paul II (1948)... joined the Order of Saint Augustine in 1977 and was ordained in 1982... spent (by my count) at least 22 years living in Peru, where he served as as a diocesan chancellor, canon law professor, and eventually Bishop of Chiclayo... became a cardinal and the prefect of the Roman Curia's Dicastery of Bishops two years ago, residing in Rome ever since... and became pope today.

With his main strengths being that of an organizer and process guy, rather than a philosopher like Pope John Paul II or theologian like Pope Benedict XVI, nobody really knows whether Leo XIV's theology lands on the orthodox or heterodox side of the spectrum, or somewhere in between. He has had little to say, publicly at least, regarding the hot button cultural and political issues that rile up so many of us in the West, so I encourage you to take everything with a heap of salt when people start claiming to know he's progressive on this or conservative on that. They think they know, but they don't. That's what his upcoming, actual papacy is for.

What we do know is that Leo XIV emerged on the balcony for his first papal appearance wearing the traditional red mozetta, which his predecessor Pope Francis notably spurned in his first appearance... the Augustinian order to which he belongs is well-regarded by traditionalists... his episcopal motto is In Illo uno unum, which translates to "In the One, we are one"... he spoke three different languages from the balcony, which was a historical first... and used Spanish when speaking about/to the Peruvian diocese he previously headed.

Most importantly, however, Leo XIV appeared contemplative and humbled by the moment when looking out at the crowd. He looked like a man who realizes how much weight is on his shoulders and knows he must pursue God's goals, not his own. And that is the kind of man the world needs. I pray for him.

Note: The photo at the beginning of this post is a screenshot I took while watching EWTN.

Conclave

In my previous post one week ago, I remarked: "As a non-Catholic, it might seem strange for me to weigh in on the pros and cons of Francis' legacy and the qualities I hope his successor will possess." Yet here I am today, to kinda do exactly that.

Here in the USA, an obsession with politics has long poisoned the cultural well from which we drink, and that poison made it hard for the average person to get an accurate read on the Francis papacy as it unfolded. It also makes it hard for the average person to get an accurate read on what is transpiring during the current interregnum because: 1] the mainstream media filters everything through its exclusively political lens, while being helplessly ignorant that any other lens exists; and 2] the Christian media (both Catholic and non-Catholic) applies the politically loaded terms "liberal" and "conservative" to theological matters without distinguishing what those words mean theologically from what they mean politically. This leads many to import secular political presumptions into their thinking about a topic that is neither secular nor political.

We are all caught up in this knot to one degree or another, and there is no way to untie it in a blog post. Nevertheless, I will try to write this without getting snagged.

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A lot of proverbial ink has been spent praising Francis for his sense of mercy, affection for the poor, sympathy for "outsiders," and concern for those who have not been taught "the gospel." I use quotation marks for "outsiders" and "the gospel" not because those terms are suspect, but because they are inherently broad and can be used differently by different people.

In my opinion, Francis really did possess the above traits for which he was praised. But there's always a flip side, and for him it was a maddening tendency to be vague for no apparent reason, combined with an even more maddening tendency to be selectively partisan when his authoritarian impulses reared up.

Make no mistake: There is zero doubt Francis had such impulses and bedeviled people with them. In this interview, when reflecting on his tenure as leader of the Jesuits in Argentina, he said of himself that "my authoritarian and quick manner of making decisions led me to have serious problems...it was my authoritarian way of making decisions that created problems."

With a backdrop like that, we can't dismiss the many grumbles that percolated during Francis'  papacy about him issuing swift and puzzling edicts without bothering to offer a coherent explanation. When he threw his weight around, he was quick to throw it at loyal, traditional Catholics and unwilling to throw it at self-indulgent "cafeteria Catholics" quicker to throw it at traditional Catholics than he was at "cafeteria Catholics." But as we shall see, that wasn't the whole story.

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America's mainstream media longed for the Argentine pope to behave like a garden variety, left-wing, Democrat politician. As a result, it took every opportunity, no matter how ill-fitting, to liken him to one.

America's right-wing punditry embarrassed itself by granting too much credence to the mainstream media narrative, and therefore feared Francis might be like a garden variety, left-wing, Democrat politician. As a result, America's right-wing punditry took every every opportunity, no more how ill-fitting, to portray him as a Commie wolf in sheep's vestments.

Many salivated for him to get wobbly and permissive about abortion. In reality, he called Belgium's law permitting first-trimester abortions "homicidal," and added: "Doctors who do this are - allow me the word - hitmen. They are hitmen. And on this you cannot argue."

Many salivated for him to grant, and many claimed he did grant, some seal of approval for sexual relationships between same-sex couples. In reality, what he did with his much ballyhooed Fiducia supplicans was assert that individuals in such relationships may be blessed as individuals but their relationships may not - in other words, he confirmed that the church's position remains exactly what it has always been.

Many salivated for Francis to drop the hammer on what I will broadly, and politely, refer to as sexual impropriety by clergy. In reality, he relaxed the banishment his predecessor had imposed on Theodore McCarrick.

I could go on for hours, but it would serve no purpose. Like all human beings, Pope Francis was a mixed bag whose actions bore some good fruit and some bad. The main thing to realize is that he never issued an ex cathedra statement - which, in plain Protestant English, means he never uttered a single word the Catholic Church would consider beyond reproach. Everything Francis did is undoable, and everything he didn't do is of course doable.

Contrary to what most Protestants think, popes are not considered infallible. Only their ex cathedra statements are. The last time any pope issued such a statement was 75 years ago, and the last time before that was 171 years ago. The enormously consequential (and controversial) Second Vatican Council, aka Vatican II, generated no ex cathedra statements, and neither did the First Vatican Council which pre-dated it by almost a century.

In light of such facts, I think Catholics are right to say we Protestants doth protest too much about the doctrine of papal infallibility. It simply is not what so many of us have cracked it up to be.

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So, why all the hullabaloo about who serves as pope, what thoughts are in his head, and what he says when speaking off the cuff?

Simple. Christianity is the world's largest religion; the Catholic Church is by far Christianity's largest, widest-reaching, and most stable organization; Christianity's  enemies (who are legion) are tireless in their determination to topple the faith; and those enemies sense - correctly, I believe - that getting a kindred spirit of theirs in the papacy is their only chance to succeed.

Many of us Protestants don't want to admit it, but, five centuries downstream from the Reformation, Protestantism has become Christianity's Achilles heel. By and large our denominations are engaged in a continuous downward spiral of doctrinal compromise that has inevitably led to confused parishioners and fractured churches. When you look at how malleable the foundations on which we've built our institutions have proven to be, there's scant reason to think this downward spiral can be reversed other than in limited pockets.

Doctrinally speaking, the Catholic Church has remained consistent through the centuries despite its shortcomings and abuses, whereas one Protestant church after another has gone weak-kneed and crumbled.

It is Catholicism, not Protestantism, that has remained steadfast in its support of human life and sexual ethics, and it is Catholicism that's growing globally while most Protestant denominations are shrinking or stuck in the doldrums.

Catholicism has structures and procedures designed to root out false teachings, whereas Protestantism does not; and thus it's the latter which has become a prolific breeding ground for teachings that are often diluted and sometimes heretical.

We are supposed to be Christians first, not Protestants first. And if we're being honest with ourselves, we must admit what I've said before, that the state of the Christian faith on Earth is inseparable from the state of the Catholic Church on Earth. For this reason, we must all take an interest in what transpires during the papal conclave that is set to start on Wednesday.

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What is a conclave? In short, it's the process by which a new pope is selected.

How does it work? In short, everybody eligible to vote (cardinals who were under the age of 80 when Francis died) gathers in the Sistine Chapel, is forbidden from communicating with anyone outside, and casts votes in a series of elections that continue until somebody wins one with a two-thirds majority.

After each election, its result gets relayed to the world by setting the ballots on fire in a stove whose chimney releases smoke above the chapel roof. The ballots are chemically treated to generate a specific color of smoke. When spectators see black rising from the chimney, they know an election has ended without a winner; when they see white, they know a pope has been chosen. 

Shortly thereafter, a designated official (usually the protodeacon of the College of Cardinals) steps onto the central balcony of St. Peter's Basilica and speaks the words "Habemus Papam," then the new pope steps onto the balcony and is introduced to the crowd.

This is not like a presidential or parliamentary election where we know who the candidates are. Technically, there aren't any candidates when the conclave begins because nobody announces he's running and nobody campaigns for the job. The names of possible candidates, or papabili, are determined organically through the deliberations of the cardinals, and a man who does not even want the job might find himself receiving votes simply because people think he's the best choice. (In case you're wondering, yes, a man who gets elected pope is free to decline on the spot.)

Any male Catholic is eligible. Therefore, in theory, the cardinals could make Mark Whalberg the next pontiff. In reality, however, they are almost certain to choose one of their own: The last time a non-cardinal "won" was 1378, when Archbishop Bartolomeo Prognano was elected and became Pope Urban VI.

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There is no sound way to speculate about who will emerge as pope from this week's conclave. Especially when the person speculating is an American Protestant who's lived most of his 54 years in the Sunshine State of Florida and did his college matriculating in the Yellowhammer State of Alabama (Auburn University, c/o December '92, War Eagle fearless and true!). But I can share some thoughts, can't I?

Trying to read the tea leaves of the conclave bears an unnerving similarity to trying to read the tea leaves of the US Supreme Court. We know there will be 133 cardinals voting, with more than 100 of them having been appointed to their posts by Francis, and 89 votes are needed to "win." That might cause your gut to feel they will choose a pope similar to Francis - until you think about the fact that far more cardinals than ever before hail from the so-called global south, i.e. from places other than Europe and North America.

With cardinals coming to Rome from far-flung corners of the globe, gone are the days when they all knew each other and were aware of their tendencies. Back when most of them lived in Europe and a disproportionate number resided right there in Italy, familiarity ruled the day; but with unfamiliarity now in full swing, an unprecedented wild card has been introduced to an event that already has a history of being upended by wild cards.

People from the global south tend to be more on the orthodox side of the theological spectrum than Francis, and more tradition-minded as well. Combine this with the fact that the Church has been growing by leaps and bounds in the global south while generally waning in the heterodox West... and with the fact that, despite the general Western waning, this past year has seen a spike in conversions in the UK and US, driven specifically by people being drawn to Catholicism's hard adherence to time-honored virtues, in contrast to Protestantism's soft slinking away from those virtues... and one is tempted to figure that the Church will choose the robust path over the suicidal one.

But then again, who knows?

It would be cool to have an American pope, but I think the odds of that are only slightly higher than the odds of Norwegian reindeer migrating to the Bahamas. My dream candidates are African prelates Robert Sarah and Fridolin Ambongo Besungu, both of whom are deeply respected; but Sarah turns 80 next month so he's probably too old to step into the role.

Then I remind myself I'm Protestant, and therefore maybe I don't have a vested interest in this and shouldn't be paying close attention to it.

But then I remember I'm Christian, which means I do have a vested interest and should be paying close attention.

Every Christian, in fact every human being, will eventually be affected in one way or another by what the cardinals decide in Vatican City this week. So let us all hope and pray they act wisely.

Interregnum

My grandfather was a Baptist preacher who always talked about God but never (as far as I can recall) bashed the Catholic Church. My father often talked about history and current affairs (in fact, he still does) and regularly watched the 6:00 national news anchored by Walter Cronkite.

I always paid attention to the grown-ups' conversations and usually found them fascinating, which probably wasn't "normal" for a wee lad but does explain, at least in part, why I'm not a knee-jerk anti-Catholic and why I have always taken a keen interest in many things Vatican.

I'm not sure if I was aware he went by the name Paul VI, but I do remember the pope dying when I was seven years old in 1978, and I remember thinking that was a big deal and wondering who would replace him. When Dad turned Walter Cronkite on in the evenings, I would watch to see if they had decided on a new pope. I was excited when the announcement came, and a month later was shocked when he died unexpectedly. A month seems much longer to a 7-year-old than to a 54-year-old, but it still struck me, even then, as an unfathomably brief time for a man to head the world's largest church; so when the cardinals all returned to Rome so soon for yet another conclave, I was even more interested than before and paid even closer attention to the nightly news.

On October 16, 1978, when the world learned that Karol Jozef Wojtyla was elected and had chosen to adopt the same papal name as his predecessor, thus becoming Pope John Paul II, I sensed it was a momentous occasion and that he would have a major impact on the world. Obviously I was clueless about the true scope of what lay ahead - that he would oversee a global boom of evangelism, re-inject Christianity to the Soviet Bloc, and help end the Cold War - but I did sense he was momentous, and thus I paid attention to what he did and came to appreciate the authenticity of the church he guided for more than 26 years.

Because John Paul II's successor chose to resign while still alive, this month's passing of Pope Francis marks the first time in 47 years that a pope has died in office. Historically speaking, that is an extraordinarily long time and maybe even unprecedented: Assuming the accuracy of Wikipedia's list of popes, I just scrolled through it all the way back to 1492 A.D., the same year Columbus sailed the ocean blue, and 24 years is the longest gap I see between the deaths of any sitting popes.

As a non-Catholic, it might seem strange for me to weigh in on the pros and cons of Francis' legacy and the qualities I hope his successor will possess. But as a Christian and human being, I do have skin in the game, so to speak - and so with Francis' funeral having happened today, I pray for the College of Cardinals to heed the guidance of the Holy Spirit in the conclave that will soon commence.

People here in the United States and elsewhere in the West often perceive Christianity to be in retreat. But that's only because we humans tend to be myopic and "see in a mirror dimly," as stated in Paul's first letter to the Corinthians. Globally speaking, Christianity is on the march; and that is largely due to the growth it is experiencing in the so-called global south, particularly in Africa and Asia, where the Catholic Church is leading the way with such figures as cardinals Fridolin Ambongo Besungu (Congo), Robert Sarah (Guinea), and Luis Tagle (Philippines).

All three of those men are considered candidates to become the next pope. Two of them are considered theologically conservative, one of them theologically moderate, and none of them theologically liberal. But of course, it is entirely possible none of them will be elected.

Ultimately, the state of the Christian faith on Earth is inseparable from the state of the Catholic Church on Earth. Gen X "cradle Protestants" such as myself should be able to see that. And we should be able to admit that the weakening of faith we've seen in the West during our lifetimes is due more to noodle-spined concerns and fallacies within Protestantism than to anything happening within Catholicism.

But those concerns and fallacies, which could fill many volumes of large books, are not the subject of this post. For now, I simply say we should all take an interest in what happens in the Vatican during this current interregnum between popes - also known as a sede vacante, Latin for "the seat is vacant" - and should all pray for the faithfulness, wisdom, and courage of whomever is chosen to be what Catholics refer to as the successor to Saint Peter.