Aquinas Lecture, 2013: Matthew Levering - 'Aquinas & the Gospel'

On 30th January Blackfriars held its annual Aquinas Lecture. This year the speaker was Matthew Levering, Professor of Religious Studies at Dayton University, USA. He spoke to a packed hall on the subject of ‘Aquinas and the Gospel’, specifically ‘The Pauline Gospel According to Aquinas’. His major source was the commentary by St Thomas on the letter to the Romans, and he focused on the detailed commentary made by Aquinas on the first three verses of the letter.

Professor Levering set out to explore what was Aquinas’s understanding of the Gospel. He explained that for Aquinas it was good news because it announced the fundamental human good, which is our union with God. More specifically the theme of unity is three-fold: (1) the union of God and man in Jesus; (2) our union with God now; (3) the fulfilment of this union in Heaven and at the end of time. The content of the gospel is Jesus Christ, the union of his full divinity and full humanity being stressed by both Aquinas and Levering. The Gospel comes from God and is first preached by God, in the person of Jesus. While there is a certain newness in the New Testament the gospel also draws its credibility from it fulfilling the Old Testament Scriptures and promises, seen as given through the prophets. As such the prophets had the quality of antiquity (since they spoke long before Jesus came), of reliability (as God inspired them to speak the truth) and of dignity (as God chose and raised them up as holy mediators of grace).

Professor Levering drew out the rich use that Aquinas made of other scriptural texts in his commentary, using the Gospel of John to cast light on Paul’s ideas, and using a variety of Old Testament texts, especially Isaiah, to bring out the depth of the meaning in both the thought of Paul and to express his own ideas.

Discussion followed including a discussion of the extent to which Aquinas’s appeal to antiquity had similarities with modern concerns of historical consciousness, and the extent to which proclaiming the Gospel brings about faith in a way akin to, or different form the way in which celebration of the sacraments brings about sanctification. The Gospel is powerful and listening to it and pondering it can be a huge grace, if done with faith.

After drinks for all our guests, and Evening Prayer, Professor Levering joined the community for supper. He stayed on to give the Aquinas Seminar the next day ‘Milbank and Aquinas on Nature and Grace’. It was all a very enriching experience.

Councils of Faith: Lateran IV (1215)

The Fourth Lateran Council (November 1215) represents a high-point in ecclesiastical governance in the Middle Ages. It is also of special interest to us here as it formed the backdrop to the establishment of the Order of Preachers in 1216. 

Commonly referred to in canon law as the 'General Council of Lateran', this great convocation was presided over by Pope Innocent III, who, some, argue was the most powerful pope in history. Innocent ensured that the papal privileges and ecclesiastical liberties claimed by the first three Lateran Councils were now consolidated and extended. The prestige of the pope, combined with a long period of convocation (April 1213 to November 1215), meant that Lateran IV was the best attended of all the medieval councils and could strongly claim to be 'ecumenical'. There were present: 71 patriarchs and metropolitans, including those of Constantinople and Jerusalem; 412 bishops; some 900 abbots and priors; delegates from the patriarchs of Antioch and Alexandria; and envoys from the Holy Roman Emperor and several other Christian states. Seventy decrees or canons were drawn up in advance and were easily approved.

Europe was changing fast in the early thirteenth century. The growth of towns was matched by a burgeoning mercantile class and the spread of literacy. Together with the proliferation of new religious orders through the 12th century, this gave the impetus to a new rationalisation of legal codes, especially the canon law Decretals compiled by Gratian. While official structures were waxing to meet these new challenges, a revival of popular piety was bringing many ordinary people back to a more internalised Christianity. This aimed at rediscovering the Scriptural roots of the faith, and was often expressed through a commitment to evangelical poverty. Lay movements, such as the beguines, flourished. But many turned to heretical doctrines and openly challenged Church authority. The Waldensians, for instance, repudiated the sacraments, oaths, the cult of the saints, and Purgatory.

It is unsurprising, then, to find concern for true Christian teaching and practice at the heart of Lateran IV's decrees. Canon 1 reiterated the the creeds, including an important reference to Transubstantiation, at a time when many Eucharistic miracles were being reported. Other canons insisted that relics had to be verified before acceptance, by documentary evidence and (if necessary) trial by fire or water. To neutralise the heretics' greatest critiques, clerical discipline was tightened: Lateran IV forbade the clergy dishonest pursuits, attendance at frivolous entertainments, games of chance, and visits to taverns. This last exclusion did not apply to 'necessary' visits, namely while travelling – which perhaps explains why the early Dominicans were keen to be itinerant preachers! The clergy were also banned from meting out or participating in death penalties; which is why the capital sentences of Inquisitions were always carried out by secular authorities, not the Church. However, ecclesiastics themselves were only to be tried by Church courts, even for criminal actions; and this remained the case right up to the French Revolution.

Sacramental practice was newly enjoined upon all the faithful, especially Communion at Easter and Confession to one's parish priest at least once a year. This merely confirmed existing legislation and custom, but Lateran IV had such clout and was so widely enacted that this particular canon (21) has historically been seen as a significant step. 

Canons 4-5 exhorted the Greek Orthodox to unite with Rome, and reiterated papal primacy, while Canon 1 dogmatically defined the Filioque. Interestingly, Rome now acknowledged Constantinople as the second see of Christendom, ahead of Alexandria, Antioch and Jerusalem. This is largely explained by the Fourth Crusade and its disastrous sack of Constantinople in 1204, which put the eastern capital under Latin rule. Under these unhappy circumstances, we should be wary of claiming too strong an ecumenical success for Lateran IV.

Finally, there are two canons of special significance for Dominicans. Canon 13 forbade the establishment of new religious orders with new rules, forcing St Dominic to adopt his familiar Rule of St Augustine as the foundation of Dominican life. But it is Canon 10 that stands out with its call for bishops to appoint preachers to support them in their ministry of the Word. Where bishops suffer from overwork, illness, external hostility, or ignorance(!), they are to

provide suitable men, powerful in work and word, to exercise with fruitful result the office of preaching; who...diligently visiting the people committed to them, may instruct them by word and example.

These men are to be the bishops' coadjutors and assistants, not only in the office of preaching but also in hearing confessions, imposing penances, and in other matters that pertain to the salvation of souls.

So, when the Dominican Order was established by Pope Honorius III just a year later, its Primitive Constitutions emphasised the fact that it was 'known from the beginning to have been instituted especially for preaching and the salvation of souls.' In 1215, the great days of the mendicant friars were just beginning, but here was a timeless call for new workers in the Lord's vineyard. Lateran IV set the tone for those first generations of Friars Preachers, and even now, centuries later, the call to continue the apostolic preaching can still be heard.

Feast of St. Thomas Aquinas

I could not let today pass without saying a quick word about St. Thomas Aquinas, my intellectual hero and generally one of my favorite saints.

Aquinas was born in 1224/5 to a noble family at a time of political tension between the Papacy and the Holy Roman Emperor. Because Aquinas’s family supported the Emperor in this struggle they sent the young Thomas, after some initial schooling at the famous Benedictine Abbey Monte Casino, to study at the imperial university in Naples. Unlike the ecclesiastical universities, students at Naples were allowed to study Aristotle, whose writings were just beginning to filter back in to the Latin West via the Muslim World.

There was a perception at this time that Aristotelian science lead to conclusions that contradicted revelation and in some circles this science was therefore considered to be a threat to traditional Augustinian theology. It was the genius of Aquinas to synthesize these two streams of thought, the Augustinian and the Aristotelian, by showing the complementary nature of faith and reason.

The result is a liberating vision of the world and human life in which God holds all things in being through his creative love, and calls human beings to live in friendship with him in this life, and eternal happiness with him in the next.

Conversion of Saint Paul

The story of the conversion of Paul, (who used to be Saul) is an interesting one. That example, of an apostle who became the most productive in writing and pastoral activity without having set his eyes on the risen Christ, could be used to understand that Christ never abandoned his disciples after his resurrection.

After the resurrection of Christ and the Pentecost, Peter and the other apostles had started to preach the Gospel. Some of the disciples had started to baptize Gentiles. However, the new faith was only strong in Palestine till the martyrdom of Stephen. Then Christians were scattered in the world. But even then, it became a heavy and difficult matter for the disciples to accept the Gentiles in the Church. For the Gospel to be well spread in foreign nations, it needed someone who knew Judaism well and could relate well to foreigners, someone who could easily approach poor people as well as rich ones, uneducated and educated people. Saul had all the needed qualities: he was born in Judaism, grew up in Tarsus, became a Pharisee, and had Roman nationality.

Coming back to the persecution of the first disciples after the resurrection, the Pharisees and the Scribes could not believe what they were experiencing: how could those disciples, mostly uneducated men and women, preach Jesus's resurrection after having deserted him when he was arrested? Where did they get their new zeal? What could be the means to stop them? For a while, the Pharisees thought that they had a solution in a young man, Saul of Tarsus, who seemed to be as zealous as those Christians. And in addition to the zeal, Saul had also the power and the force to silence the Christians.

He started his mission with an eagerness that made him notoriously evil for Christians. One day he found himself witnessing, and consenting to, the death of the first Christian martyr. He then became a terror. He approved or ordered the death of many Christians. He put many others in jail. However, his zeal to persecute Christians ended when he was about to persecute the Christians in Damascus. A spectacular thing happened to him. He repeats the story in these words: “On that journey as I drew near to Damascus, about noon a great light from the sky suddenly shone around me. I fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to me, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?’ I replied, ‘Who are you, sir?’ and he said to me, ‘I am Jesus the Nazorean whom you are persecuting. My companions saw the light but did not hear the voice of the one who spoke to me” (Acts 22: 6-9). The circumstances of those events might be understood by some as a figurative way of conveying a much stronger and overwhelming experience. Did he start to reflect on the meaning of Christianity at the stoning of Stephen? No one can tell. Nonetheless, the extent of the change in him after his conversion was unquestionably amazing.

Much has been written on the conversion of Paul and it remains one of the most beautiful stories of conversion. One among many things that we could learn from this story is that God knows how to defend the Church. The Church and the believers can’t claim to protect God and faith, they are just instruments used by God. God knows how and when to use them. Their role is to be available and willing to be instruments. When the Church goes through harsh moments like those of the persecuted Early Church, and when we rightly or misguidedly believe that we are under attack, we should not lose hope. Adopting the attitude of a violent zeal would only prove our lack of faith. We might use fierce enthusiasm thinking that we are defending God and our faith, but then, just as Paul before his conversion, we would be highly mistaken.

'This House would be glad to have gay parents'

Last Thursday, the Oxford Union Society debated the motion, This House would be glad to have gay parents. Speaking for the Proposition were student Crawford Jamieson, journalist Benjamin Cohen, LGBT activist Phyll Opoku-Gyimah, and 'Right Said Fred' vocalist Richard Fairbrass. On the other side were Anthony McCarthy of SPUC, Peter D Williams of Catholic Voices, Pentecostalist minister and political campaigner George Hargreaves, and social commentator Lynette Burrows.

Photo: cbr_perso

With the UK parliament soon to vote on same-sex marriage legislation, this debate was not actually about the question of marriage. Instead, putting the parental relationship at the heart of the discussion was one way of avoiding the legal muddles about redefining marriage. I was expecting this shift of emphasis to play in favour of the Opposition. After all, it was precisely this focus on parenting that galvanised the huge crowds in Paris at the recent demonstration defending the current definition of marriage. The principal refrain was: the rights of children trump the right to children.

Although this point was well made during the debate, it was dismissed by the Proposition who interpreted it to suggest that all gay parents were worse than all heterosexual parents. Many speeches, including student contributions from the floor, kept reiterating that many heterosexual parents do worse for their children than do loving gay parents. As a result, who would not be glad to have loving, gay parents? The point becomes especially acute if you have gay parents yourself and do not know one or other of your biological parents: your gay parents are the only ones you know and of course you love them. You are glad to have them because they're your parents. Biological heredity, after all, is not the only thing that defines parenthood; and we cannot ignore the tragedy that many children suffer terrible abuse at the hands of their biological parents.

That is the strongest argument I can see for the Proposition, and yet they did not make it in those terms. Instead, they largely focused on their own experience of being, or desire to become, gay parents themselves; and combined this with more general comments about unjust discrimination against gay people in this country and around the world. As expected, injustices against gay people were roundly condemned by the Opposition too, so that couldn't stand as the principle of division. So it was the point about parents that remained most acute: the Proposition focused on the gay parents' possible right to have children, the Opposition on the right of children to know their biological parents.

On this last point, George Hargreaves referred to the divine precept to honour thy father and mother, the only one of the 10 Commandments to carry a promise (Eph. 6:2). If we deny children access to their biological father and mother, as can happen for instance through surrogacy, then we deny children the ability to fulfil this basic precept. Children can certainly give due honour to adoptive parents, step-parents and guardians if they are their family, but where is it possible for them to be raised by their biological parents, that should be the priority. There is a growing number of voices telling the 'untold view' of children who grew up feeling deprived of one or other of their biological parents; see for example the stories from donor-conceived children at the Anonymous Us project, TangledWebs UK, and many others.

This is why we should be wary of arguments that suggest parental equality is predicated on the interchangeability of the sexes: as children grow up they naturally desire to know their biological parents. It may not be the most important thing, yet it is an important piece in the puzzle about one's personal identity.

Imagine someone complaining about the fact that they grew up with their biological parents. There might be many reasons why the family situation was difficult, and why the child might resent certain things that the parents are or do. But if, in their testimony, they rule out all other factors and insist that it was specifically the biological connection that bothered them, wouldn't that complaint be absurd? Now compare this with someone growing up without one or other of their biological parents. If they are living a happy, well-balanced life, in the midst of a supportive family, and yet still they say that they wish they could know both their biological parents, we cannot rule out this complaint in the same way. The desire to know and love one's biological parents is legitimate and honourable, even if in many cases this is sadly not possible. We need to listen with compassion to the children and adults who have experienced the pain of such a loss.

One great problem with this debate (and many like it) boils down to how we identify an ad hominem argument. Should anyone feel attacked or insulted when someone else mentions statistical data comparing heterosexual and homosexual relationships, or refers to cases where the lack of a mother or father causes genuine distress to a child? As long as we presume the good will of all participants in the dialogue, I don't think anyone should. By way of analogy, single parents who heroically support their whole family are not denigrated by the fact that certain 'social outcomes' for children in these situations tend to be worse. On the contrary: those who are loving and supportive parents in these situations, 'against the odds' so to speak, demonstrate their wonderful qualities all the more clearly.

One of the most overlooked points of the debate was the clarification by Peter Williams of how the motion should be interpreted. The motion would be totally uncontentious if taken in the wide sense described earlier, i.e. that anyone would be glad to have any parents, full stop. But the motion can only be a point of disagreement (and hence worthy of debate) if it is interpreted to compare gay parenting with heterosexual (biological) parenting, with all other factors being equal.

When the level playing field is presumed, and when arguments and statistics are not taken as insults, a fair debate can be had. All four Proposition speeches rested on personal testimony, and while some of it was inevitably endearing, it was insufficient for the general conclusion that gay parenting should be considered interchangeable with 'biological' parenting (which unfortunately sounds like a laundry cycle).

Union debates rarely change people's minds. I think the final result (345 in favour, 21 against) probably reflects the existing beliefs and values of the audience. Although most of the Opposition speeches defused the initial antagonism and put some sensible arguments on the table, the last speech aroused great indignation in the audience and concluded the debate on very emotive terms.

The Proposition insisted we vote in favour of gay parenting to 'make a statement'. I would hope that everyone who voted Yes was making the statement that all people, gay or straight, deserve the same respect for their human dignity. I can say Yes to that too. But a debate should be about weighing arguments and points of view, not just rallying a crowd to a cause. On this complex and sensitive topic of (gay) parenting, I hope that a better perspective will soon be found, one which fully respects the point of view of the child.

------

Postscript. It must be noted that the teaching of the Catholic Church on questions of human sexuality, marriage, and related issues, has been clearly put forward in many documents. The letter from the President and Vice-President of the Bishops' Conference of England and Wales last March is a good starting point; and to find out more, Godzdogz readers may wish to reflect on Pope Benedict's end-of-2012 address to the Roman Curia, and Bl. John Paul II's substantial Theology of the Body. I have not alluded to official Catholic teaching in this article since it did not enter the Union debate last week. Instead, as the Opposition demonstrated, it is possible to make a 'secular' case for 'biological parenting', on the basis of the common good and the rights of children.

Ecumenical Councils: Lateran I - III

Our series on the Ecumenical councils of the Church here on Godzdogz has so far been dominated by the controversies in the Greek speaking East. The first three Lateran councils, convoked in a 60 year period between 1123 and 1179, mark a shift in focus towards the west. In these councils we see the Church wrestling in a very practical way with the question of authority. In the wake of the Western Roman Empire’s fall, the Papacy had stepped into a power vacuum at the heart of western European society. Yet as the centuries passed and European culture saw a political renewal the Church found it increasingly necessary to resist secular attempts to curtail its autonomy. Lateran I – III, then, can be seen as part of a broader project led by a number of reforming Popes in the eleventh and twelfth century to assert the independence of the Church from the crown and tighten clerical discipline. 

The catalyst to Lateran I (1123) was the Concordat of Worms, negotiated by Pope Calixtus II and Emperor Henry V in September 1122. This marked the end of the first round of a protracted power struggle between the Popes the Holy Roman Emperors. The Emperors had for some time claimed the divine right to appoint Church officials including bishops and even the Pope. At Worms it was agreed that whilst the King had the right to invest bishops with secular authority in the territories that they governed, they had no right to give sacred authority. Thus the Pope emerged as a figure that was beyond the control of the Holy Roman Emperor, and by confirming the primacy of papal authority and the new canon law governing the election of the pope, the concept of the ‘divine right of Kings’ was seriously undermined. Interestingly, for this reason many see in the Concordat of Worms the seeds of the Treaty of Westphalia (1648) which would confirm the concept of nation based sovereignty which still shapes our political discourse to this day. 

At Lateran I, convoked and presided over by Pope Callixtus II in person, the Concordat was read and ratified as part of a larger reform package that was very much in the tradition of Gregory VII: the importance of clerical celibacy was once again emphasized, simony was condemned, and the autonomy of the Church from secular leaders was demanded. These themes recur at Lateran II and III, councils that also were called to deal with political disputes within the Church. 

In 1130 Pope Honorius died and two rival Popes were elected in his place: Pope Innocent II and the antipope Anacletus II. The problem was eventually solved when, in 1138, Anacletus died. Pope Innocent II, now the sole claimant of the See of Rome, nevertheless decided to call the second Lateran Council (1139) to deal with the fallout from this schism. This process was repeated in 1179 when Lateran III was called to deal with yet another schism. This time it was the death of Pope Hadrian IV in 1159 that once again prompted two rival Popes to be elected elected: Alexander III and Victor IV. Victor had fewer Cardinals in his favour, but crucially had the support of the Emperor Frederick. Frederick wished to bring Italy more firmly under his control and so declared war on the Italian states and the Church. Schism was the inevitable consequence. Eventually the Papacy and its allies defeated Frederick at the battle of Legnano in 1176. This obliged Frederick to acknowledge Alexander as the true Pope at the Peace of Venice in 1177. Alexander, in return, agreed to call an ecumenical council to deal with the consequences of the schism hence the convocation of Lateran III. 

It is easy to dismiss the struggles between Emperors and Popes of the middle ages as simply power games and politicking, but at heart a fundamental question is at stake: is the Church simply an aspect of government, an aspect of civil society? Or does it instead transcend society and point us to a higher purpose than the goods of this life? The Church’s institutions can be used to preach the gospel and build up the Kingdom, or they can be used for less noble ends. Lateran I – III represents a struggle to resist those who would distort the Church’s mission, a threat that came from both outside and inside the Church.

John Baptist Watson OP RIP (1929-2013)

Please join us in praying for the repose of the soul of our brother John Baptist Watson OP, of our Newcastle community, who died on 5th January and was buried yesterday. Brother John Baptist was born in the North East in 1929, and, after joining the order as young man (being professed on 30th December 1951), he served as a lay (cooperator) brother in various priories, later being ordained to the permanent diaconate, which he exercised in Newcastle for many years. His health declined in recent years, and he moved into a nursing home near the priory, where he received something of a new lease of life ministering to his fellow residents and, for example, leading them in praying the Rosary. After a short illness, he died in the Newcastle Infirmary, having received the Sacraments from his Superior.

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord,

and let perpetual light shine upon him.

May he rest in peace.
Amen.

Ecumenical Councils: Constantinople IV, 869-70.

This council was centred around whether Photius ought, or ought not, to be Patriarch of Constantinople.  It involved clear political interactions and, what is more, the political situation was complex, and changed significantly over short periods of time. An interaction with actual ‘secular’ politics and civic life is a feature of many of the ecumenical councils. An awareness of political factors is probably common to them all. After all, the Church exists in and interacts with the world. In common with other councils, it passed canons that have proved important over time, and often of more significance and use in theology, than the central business for which such councils were principally called.

The events linked to this council fell within a longer period of tension and suspicion between the Latin Western Church and Greek Eastern Church. The affair began when Nicholas I was pope (858-867). In Constantinople Michael III was emperor: he was born in 840 and had reigned from 842. In 858 Ignatius (b. 797) became Patriarch of Constantinople. He refused Michael Holy Communion on grounds of incest. Michael retaliated by deposing him and selecting a brilliant and devout layman, Photius (b. 810), to be patriarch. He went through the requisite set of ordinations and was consecrated patriarch in 5 days was but these actions did not adhere to the normal canonical procedure of the day. Both Ignatius and Michael appealed to the Pope. After conducting an investigation, Pope Nicholas accepted Ignatius as the still valid patriarch and he deposed and excommunicated Photius. However, de facto, Photius continued to have power as patriarch in Constantinople.

The situation worsened, and letters were sent by both camps denouncing the other. Then in 867 Photius called and presided at a council that declared Pope Nicholas excommunicate and deposed him. Nicholas died before hearing the results, the new pope being Hadrian II, (867-72). But events in Constantinople then also took a dramatic turn.

Emperor Michael had a co-emperor, Basil I, from 1866 who in 1867 then murdered Michael and so gained complete control as Emperor. He acted quickly to depose Photius and to reinstate Ignatius as patriarch. Basil asked Pope Hadrian to join him in a new council to tidy things up. This was held in Constantinople in 869-70 (and is the council the West later recognised as an ecumenical council). It was held from October 5th to February 28th 870, and met in 10 sessions, and by its last session it included 102 bishops, 3 papal legates and 4 patriarchs, though it began with far fewer attendees. Its main purpose was to condemn Photius for his acts in 867 and to depose him. It also took steps against his decisions, appointments and actions as patriarch. It issued 27 canons (in the Latin records). It restored the honour of Pope Nicholas I and recognised his actions. In general it conveyed a high view of the papacy, but also recognised Constantinople as the second see of the Church, after Rome. In strong terms it criticised imperial interference in the appointment and consecration of bishops and other Episcopal matters, as in the elevation and rapid set of ordinations of Photius. It also reaffirmed the use of icons as stated in Nicea II.

Patriarch Ignatius died in 877 and Photius became patriarch, this time in a situation and way that the Pope could also now accept as valid. A council of the East was held in 879-80, again in Constantinople, to consolidate the position of Photius. He confessed his errors of 867 in excommunicating the pope. The papal legates took the documents back to Rome. It appears that Pope John VIII (872-882) then recognised Photius, seemingly revoking the council of 869-70 in regard to decisions specifically about Photius, but not in regard to its more general terms or canons. In a way, within 10 years the specific issue that the council of 869-70 addressed had been resolved. Photius continued as patriarch until 886, finally dying in 893.

Neither the council of 869-70 or that of 879-80 were regarded as ‘ecumenical’ at or soon after the time. In the late 11th century, at a time when the papacy was seeking to assert its rights over Episcopal appointments and investiture in the West, in opposition to claims by (Holy Roman) emperors and kings. To support these claims, it recognised the council of Constantinople of 869-70 as Ecumenical, ie as Constantinople IV, since the canonists and, more importantly, then the pope judged its canons against political interference in Episcopal appointments to be of universal importance for the Church. The core issue that led to its recognition, long after its occurrence, as ecumenical, was the autonomy and the independence of the Church, and, with it, a process of integrity in the appointment of bishops and in the motivation of candidates. These principles have been threatened a number of times across church history, and have repeatedly been addressed by ecumenical, and other, councils.

The council of 869-70 was not accorded ecumenical status to slur the memory of Photius. But the Eastern Churches have tended to see it that way. They regard the council of 879-80 as the more important one, and it was the one that allowed matters to settle down at the time. The overall impact of Photius through his whole life and writings made him one of the most influential figures in the history of the Byzantine Empire. Interestingly both he and Patriarch Ignatius became recognised as saints in the East. Only Ignatius is recorded in the Roman Martyrology.  Pope Nicholas I is known as St Nicholas the Great.

The Eastern (Greek) Churches do not accept the ecumenical nature of Constantinople IV (869-70) or of later councils recognised by Popes. In general they only accept as ‘ecumenical’ the 7 councils that were so recognised from Nicea I (325) to Nicea II (787). The Church, gathered around, and in unity with, Peter and his successors, has come to the view that in the final analysis, the pope has to decide what is, and is not, an ecumenical council, and which of its decisions are binding on the whole church and (depending on their nature) for how long. The events around Photius and Constantinople IV, the canons it produced, and reflection on all this, were part of the process that led to this understanding of how authority works within the Church, guided by the Holy Spirit. (The reception of such teachings and decisions by the wider Church, and their theological interpretation and application are also important.) The events around Constantinople IV also illustrate that the Holy Spirit works amidst political complexity and through human agents, whose conduct cover the gamut from weak to strong, foolish to wise, and sinful to saintly.

(The illustrations are, in descending order, images of Saints Nicholas, Ignatius and Photius.)

God Matters?

Readers in striking distance of Oxford are warmly invited to join us for a series of talks exploring some of the challenging questions that non-believers sometimes put to people of faith. The talks - which will be given by a number of Dominicans, including Godzdogz's own Br Andrew Brookes - are free, and will take place on six consecutive Tuesdays at 8pm, starting on February 5th. The evenings will include an opportunity for open discussion and questions (as well as some refreshments: Dominicans believe in feeding mind and body!).

All are welcome: you need not be a Catholic, nor even a theist: we hope that this will be an opportunity for all of us to reflect critically on our faith and to grapple with some difficult issues. Of course, those who don't necessarily have any burning questions are welcome to come along and listen (we won't press-gang anyone into sharing their opinions or views). We look forward to seeing you!

Blackfriars, Canterbury

Canterbury is in some ways the religious heart of England. That was certainly the case when the first Dominican friars arrived on these shores in 1221, the year of St Dominic's death. Yet they did not stay to found their first priory in the city of Augustine, Anselm and Thomas à Becket. They preached before Archbishop Stephen Langton, then made haste to London, the political capital. Again they moved on and did not stop until they came to Oxford, the (then) intellectual capital. Right from the start, we Dominicans have always been attracted to university centres, where our commitment to study and preaching can bear great fruit.

Map of Blackfriars, Canterbury, by Thomas Langdon (1595)

It didn't take us long to return to Canterbury: the first Blackfriars was founded there in around 1236. As the waves of pilgrims to the shrine of St Thomas à Becket increased, in around 1315 the Dominicans built a Guesthouse on a little island in the river Stour, connected to the main priory complex by two wooden bridges (see map above). This building consisted of a main hall with an undercroft, which was later raised a little.

The 1315 Guesthouse, with a modern wing in red and the Marlowe Theatre behind

The Guesthouse passed through several hands after the Protestant Reformation, being used by several different denominations. The English Dominicans obtained the site in the early twentieth century, thanks especially to a certain 'Brother Cuthbert' (probably Fr Cuthbert Bretherton OP), Inside, a beautiful stone inscription by Fr Aelred Whitacre OP commemorates the fact that this building was built under Henry III, destroyed under Henry VIII, and restored under Edward VIII(!), i.e., in 1936. But before long the disrepair was parlous. In 1969, the Guesthouse was bought by Donald and Poppy Beerling, who have subsequently spent enormous amounts of money and energy restoring it.

Old interior of the Guesthouse

It was the Beerlings who warmly welcomed me, and some of my family, for a visit on 29 December, the feast of St Thomas of Canterbury. They showed me photos and letters from an impromptu visit by an Australian Dominican in 1981, and it seems I'm the first English Dominican to have visited the restored Guesthouse. The Beerlings have put up several displays with information about the medieval religious Orders, alongside many mementoes of the recent past, including the WW2 bombing of Canterbury. I particularly liked the excellent scale model of the medieval priory, which deservedly won a prize for the local schoolboy who made it.

Donald and Poppy Beerling welcome me to Blackfriars, Canterbury
The Cathedral is visible behind

As lifelong stalwarts of the Scouting world, Donald and Poppy also showed me their rich displays of Scouting memorabilia. (I was once a sixer in the 57th Episkopi pack of Cub Scouts.)

Scouting displays

These days the Guesthouse is used as a community hall, hosting small concerts and all manner of local groups on a regular basis. The main hall still boasts the glorious original timber roof, with only a few modern fixings. It would be very interesting to compare this building with the other remains of Blackfriars just over the river, including the medieval Refectory, which are now part of the King's School.

Locations of medieval Dominican priories

As an English Dominican of the 21st century, it is with mixed feelings that I look back on our historic priories. A great deal was lost at the English Reformation, and there are many ruins to remind us. But we should be grateful that some old priories, like Canterbury and Newcastle, are still being used and well looked after today. Meanwhile, the mission of the English Dominicans continues to flourish in other places and in other ways. The last two centuries saw our return to many of our old preaching grounds: London, Newcastle, Leicester, Oxford, Edinburgh, Cambridge, and Glasgow. In modern times the Province has been busy building up new Catholic communities, reaching new audiences, and preaching through new media, as the religious complexion of this country continues to change.

There is no need to be sentimental about the past; neither should our vision of preaching the Gospel today be narrowed by old attachments. Rather, we can joyfully embrace the opportunities and challenges of the Gospel in our contemporary society, while remaining rooted in the fertile traditions we have received down the ages. The ongoing presence of our medieval buildings is a wonderful reminder of that inheritance. May it spur us to be always like 'the owner of house who brings out of his storeroom new treasures as well as old' (Mt. 13:52).

Dominican Seminar 2013 – Fr Gerald Vann OP

Gerald Vann OP was one of the great Dominican communicators of the last century. Though much of his ministry was exercised as teacher and headmaster of the Dominican school of Laxton, he gained a much wider audience through his books and radio broadcasts on the spiritual life. He was one of that notable generation of Dominicans between the 1930s and Vatican II, which Aidan Nichols OP describes in Dominican Gallery. His writings, above all The Divine Pity, continue to exert great influence on the spirituality of Dominicans today. So, Fr Vann was a good choice for the theme of this year's Dominican Seminar:

Gerald Vann OP and the New Evangelisation

Once again, members of the Dominican Family converged from all corners of Britain and Ireland on Hinsley Hall in Leeds. The programme, as always, includes talks, liturgy, meals and informal social gatherings. The talks all aimed at showing how Fr Vann had communicated the truth of the Gospel so effectively to his generation, in order to learn something about how we might do to same to ours.

Hinsley Hall

Fr Aidan Nichols began by characterising Fr Vann's project as sapiential, seeking to inculcate wisdom and not just knowledge, in the boys he taught at Laxton and those who heard him preach. This wisdom must pay attention to symbols, both natural and supernatural, which help to define us and our place in God's creation.

There followed two talks on the socio-political dimension of the Gospel. Dr Patrick Doyle gave personal insights from his life's work in local politics, and emphasised the need to translate theological jargon into plain language for wider audiences. Sr Helen Alford, Professor of Economics and Business Ethics at the Angelicum, then gave a nuanced perspective on whether Fr Vann would approve of Catholic neoconservative economics, with special reference to the work of Michael Novak, and adding the perspective of the Dominican theorist of social ethics, A. F. Utz. 

Br Andrew Brookes had scoured Fr Vann's corpus for his Mariology, and found that there was no overarching approach to the Virgin Mother. Rather, Fr Vann often speaks of Mary in connection with other themes, particularly that of suffering (hence, the 'seven sorrows' of Our Lady). Suffering, moreover, was the dominant theme of Fr Richard Conrad's talk on the Lenten sermons at Westminster Cathedral in 1947, later published as The Pain of Christ and the Sorrow of God, which open with this powerful statement: 'The history of humanity is a love-story.'

God's loving kindness towards humanity was beautifully represented in a meditative session led by the Irish Dominican Sisters, using Scripture and readings from Fr Vann's work (which is itself thoroughly scriptural). In the final seminar discussion, we focused on The Divine Pity, which connects each of the Beatitudes with a different prayer, Gift of the Holy Spirit, and Sacrament.

I always enjoy the social aspect of these Dominican gatherings, catching up with other Friars, Sisters, Laity and members of the Dominican Secular Institute, some of whom I haven't seen in over a year, and also meeting new people for the first time. The social evening on the last night was an obvious opportunity for singing, dancing and a bit of 'magic', but really the whole seminar is a social occasion. In trying to rediscover Gerald Vann's ability to communicate the Gospel to our contemporary culture, we couldn't do better than start with the joy that comes from our brotherhood and sisterhood in Christ.

'What happens in Kavos'?

On Tuesday night #kavos was trending on Twitter, as hundreds of people took the opportunity to issue their criticism of the Channel 4 documentary ‘What happens in Kavos’. I haven’t watched the programme myself, but given that the show’s tagline promises a “behind the scenes look at the sex and debauchery of a Greek party season, [a] glimpse of what really happens in the hedonistic party town away from parents”, it is probably safe to assume that it is what the older moral theology manuals call a “dangerous occasion of sin”, and I’d have been happier if what happened in Kavos had been allowed to stay in Kavos. (For those in need of some more edifying viewing, the Student Master recommends David Attenborough’s new series on Africa, or you could could check out Sr Hyacinthe OP’s recent appearence on Channel 4).

Indeed, it’s not a surprise to learn that many young people choose to spend their free time and money drinking to excess and having casual sex, nor that they prefer to exhibit their wildest behaviour at some distance from their families. Kavos-like behaviour is, to some extent, not a new thing: historians can provide ample evidence of places of sexual antinomianism across the centuries, often coupled with the consumption of alcohol, and prostitution has been referred to as the ‘world’s oldest profession’. A recurring theme of the Tweets, however, was to remark on the apparent irrationality of people’s behaviour in Kavos: “why would somebody want to do this to themselves”, “what can they possibly enjoy about behaving like that”? Sin, of course, always has this irrational quality, because it is contrary to what is good for us. In knowing more deeply the truth, we are able to discern with greater acuity the good to which our wills are attracted.

In reflecting on the behaviour of others who seek out apparently sordid places in which their sins take place on the public stage, however, we are at risk of indulging ourselves in Schadenfreude, diverting attention from the darker areas of our own lives, the places which we have yet to allow the light of Christ to shine into. Thankfully, Our Lord, through the ministry of the Church, provides a safe place for catharsis, renewal, strengthening and forgiveness: the Sacrament of Penance and Reconciliation, in which we are enabled by Christ's grace to bring our darkness into the light, to lighten our crosses without making the crosses of others heavier. In the end times, all our sins will be revealed on the public stage, not as occasions of shame, but as occasions of celebration, for rejoicing in the grace of God’s forgiveness.

A friend recently remarked that he was shocked to find that, as the recession hit and the shops on the High Street of his home town became increasingly vacant, a number of sex shops had moved in. It strikes me that in some of the poorest communities of the world two things are to be found in abundance: pubs and nightclubs, and churches. Both, in their own way, bring a sort of transcendence and a sense of hope. Of course, it is Jesus Christ alone who brings the authentic joy and hope that the world cannot give. But perhaps in the bizarre behaviour in Kavos we can see a glimmer of a misdirected thirst for hope and joy that is answered only in Christ, a deep longing to be wanted, to be needed and to be loved. It is the joy of a Dominican vocation to have a particular call to share this Good News of liberation, but this is not a Dominican joy alone! It is the task of all Christians, that we may help each other to see the truth about God and about ourselves, no matter how beautiful that truth may be.

Councils of Faith: Nicaea II (787)

The question of the use of images in the worship of God is one which pre-dates the coming of Christ: the First Commandment forbids the making of ‘a graven image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth’ or the worshipping of them (Ex 20: 4-5). Idolatry is one of the charges frequently levelled against Israel by God, speaking through the prophets, in the Old Testament (e.g. Ezek 23: 49, Jer 16: 11-13), and several of the Psalms mock and condemn the practice of idol-worship (e.g. Pss. 105 [106], 113 [115). However, when the salvation which those same prophets had promised came, it came not by returning Israel to the rejection of any image of God, but rather, God sent his only Son, ‘the image of the invisible God’ (Colossians 1: 15), to reveal to the world the truth of the Trinity, of God who is Love.

We find surviving representations of Christ from as early as the third century (e.g. in the Roman Catacombs), and after the official toleration of Christians in 313, the use of images in the adornment of newly-built churches increased greatly. At the same time, an understanding of the significance of representative symbols of the reality of the Incarnation developed: this incorporated not only pictorial representations of Christ, but the ceremonies associated with the Gospel Book in the Liturgy (as containing the record of the earthly life of the incarnate Son of God, and the words he spoke) and also images and relics of the Saints as those who, filled with the Holy Spirit, embodied through time and space Christ’s continuing presence on earth in the Church, his Mystical Body.

However, the veneration which came to be attached to these objects aroused concern among some Christians (in the light of the Old Testament’s condemnation of idolatry), and in the 720s, a movement to remove the images which had accumulated in churches arose in parts of the Eastern Church. The rise of Islam, with its strict ban on representative art, has been suggested by some historians as a possible explanation for a renewed concern among Christians about their use of images. It is probably also true that, as at the time of the Protestant Reformation in Western Europe, excesses and abuses in the veneration of images led to a reaction against them which went too far, rejecting not only the abuses, but any legitimate place for the veneration of images and other material signs.

The details of the growth of the anti-image Iconoclast movement are somewhat controverted among historians: while the traditional account, for example, blame the Emperor Leo III for starting it, some now claim he might in fact have been in favour of images. What is clear, however, is that his son, Constantine V, who succeeded to the Byzantine throne in 740, was personally opposed to the veneration of images, and gave imperial sanction to a campaign to remove them from churches, as well as calling a council in 754, which purported to be ecumenical (despite the absence of delegates from the Pope or any of the Eastern patriarchal sees) to give doctrinal confirmation for his position.

Only when Constantine V’s daughter-in-law, Irene, took over as regent for her son Constantine VI on the death of his father, Leo IV, could a new ecumenical council be called, this time with the participation of the Western Church, which seems to have remained untouched by the iconoclastic fervour that had engulfed much of the East. This Council, which met at Nicaea in 787, upheld the legitimate veneration of images of Christ and the Saints, of relics and certain liturgical objects, as a means of expressing veneration of the things they represent or symbolise; it condemned the position that no such veneration was consistent with the orthodox faith.

Though iconoclasm resurfaced at the start of the 9th century, being definitively suppressed in 843, it was the decisions of Nicaea II which were reaffirmed at the end of that conflict, celebrated by Byzantine Christians, both Orthodox and Catholic, as the Triumph of Orthodoxy.

The Epiphany 2012

For all that ‘epiphany’ is one of the few religious words that has passed into modern idiomatic English, surveys suggest that few people know what precisely it is that the Feast of Epiphany celebrates. Indeed, in choosing a peculiar sounding word over the more straightforward ‘Feast of the Three Magi’ (as it is known in Spanish or the sonorous German Dreikönigstag) or ‘Star Day’ (as the Latvians have it), it might seem that we’ve obscured the concrete reality of the events that we commemorate in today’s festival: the finding of a child in a manger at Bethelehem by travellers from afar, who led by the light in which they trusted - a light which came from God - find God Himself made man, the incarnate meaning of their lives, and the hope of all nations.

When we talk about having an epiphany in modern idiom, we are narrating a fairly common experience: a sudden moment of realisation, an interior and striking conviction that changes our perception on the world or a particular problem. There are clear analogies between this common experience and the Magi’s experience of Christ’s manifestation to them by the Father, but there is an important difference: what is made manifest to the Magi comes not from within, from the private realm of hidden interior senses, but from above, from God, taking place on the public stage, in the person of Jesus Christ. Christ is personally the manifestation of God, God’s self-revelation in human history, and thus a personal epiphany. Indeed, some of the earliest accounts of today’s feast (such as that of St Gregory of Nazianzen, writing in the fourth century) don’t call it the ‘epiphany’ at all, but the ‘theophany’, a celebration of the unveiling of God in human history, and a continuation of the Christmas celebration of the divine nativity.

Sometimes those who are questioning whether God exists ask why it is that, if God is truly as we Christians profess him to be - all loving and all powerful - he doesn’t make himself known more dramatically, so that we would all believe. Today’s feast provides something of an answer to that question: what more could God do, than come and dwell among us as man? As the true presence of God in Man, Christ is the unsurpassed and unsurpassable revelation of God, and yet God not only reveals himself in Christ, but he also sends the Holy Spirit, to lead us to faith, to provide for our recognition of Christ as the Word made flesh. So today’s feast might be seen as a celebration of the Holy Spirit, whose mission is conjoined with that of the Son. Whilst the Nativity of Our Lord, celebrated on the 25th December, is the ‘Big Christmas’, celebrating the birth of the incarnate Son and the revelation of the Father amongst us, today is the ‘Little Christmas’, celebrating the birth of Christ within us, through our personal recognition, by the Holy Spirit, of Jesus as the Saviour.

In the time leading up to the birth of Christ, ‘epiphany’ had become a political word. The Seleucid Emperor, Antiochus IV had declared himself to be epiphanes, ‘manifest god’, using a show of political force to desecrate the temple in the most vile of ways, ruthlessly persecuting the Jewish people, and slaughtering those who opposed his rule. (As a token of his tyranny, Antioches’ opponents would nickname him epimanes, ‘manifest lunatic’). Christ, by contrast, does not enter our lives by force. He comes in the silence of Bethlehem, to bring authentic life and the gift of peace, to be accepted in the freedom and joy that he creates. In this year of faith, let us pray for epiphanic lives - lives shaped by the joy of openness to the truth - that in our study and prayerful reflection on the world, we may come to see creation as Christ himself sees it: thoroughly theophanic, telling forth the glory of its creator.

A Christmas hymn

For this Christmas season, the Dominican student brothers at Blackfriars, Oxford have recorded the hymn for Vespers of the Nativity: Veni, Redemptor gentium.

In the liturgy, we do not sing this hymn after the Christmas Octave, which ended on New Year's Day. But, since the Christmas season as a whole is ongoing – at least until the Epiphany (6 January), if not until the Presentation (2 February) – perhaps we can still sing or hum along to this beautiful music for the time being. And which of us could honestly claim never to have sung (or whistled!) one of countless other catchy Christmas jingles, secular or sacred, in all the other months of the year...?

The text can be found here.