Letters to the Editor: May 2024

A “Divided” Saint?

Inez Fitzgerald Storck’s interesting review of Paul VI: The Divided Pope by Yves Chiron (March) prompts two questions. First, what exactly is “ecumenism,” which she says the Pope “regarded…as the most important aspect of his pontificate”? Is it just getting together socially with non-Catholics, as I have seen done with Advent services, when people from several denominations gather for a quasi-liturgical event, followed by coffee and cookies? Or is it something at the other end of the spectrum, where Catholics are intent on converting non-Catholics? Or is it something in between? I have never seen a definition, and I would dearly like to be educated on this point.

The second question involves canonization. I’ve always had the impression that a person is declared a saint if he is determined to have lived a life of heroic virtue and it’s a moral certainty that he went directly to Heaven upon his death. What heroic virtues were attributed to Paul VI, who comes across in Storck’s review as rather, well, divided? For example, his encyclical Humanae Vitae was strong, but his response to those who rejected it was nonexistent. What gives?

Miriam Dapra

Hartville, Wyoming

INEZ FITZGERALD STORCK REPLIES:

Miriam Dapra understandably asks for clarification about the concept of ecumenism. It can be understood as both a theology and a mode of activity. As my husband, Thomas Storck, points out in “Ecumenism: A Reassessment” (Jul.-Aug. 2023), the theology is articulated in three significant Church documents: Mortalium Animos (1928), an encyclical of Pope Pius XI that discourages participation in ecumenism and teaches that only through union with the Catholic Church can the unity of Christians be effected; Unitatis Redintegratio (1964), a Vatican II decree that upholds the former doctrine but commits the Church to ecumenical dialogue and an appreciation of the positive elements in Protestant communities; and Ut Unum Sint (1995), an encyclical of Pope John Paul II that makes an impassioned plea to hope, pray, and work for Christian unity and affirms the clear teaching that this will necessarily involve acceptance of the Catholic Church by other ecclesial communities.

These several decades later, it is easy to criticize Pope Paul VI (who yearned for Christian unity), Vatican II, and John Paul II for their somewhat naïve expectations regarding ecumenical activities. Very little has been accomplished, and the dangers of indifferentism inherent in accepting Protestant communities as equal partners in dialogue have not been avoided. Just the same, it is incumbent on Catholics to pray “that all may be one,” that all may convert to the true Church, while not denying that other ecclesial communities are sources of a portion of the truth and graces for their members. We should fervently desire that Protestants and all people receive the fullness of the truth and access to all the sacraments, especially the Eucharist.

Regarding the sainthood of Paul VI, members and collaborators of the Congregation for the Causes of Saints determined that he had the theological and cardinal virtues to a heroic degree. It is not, however, a matter of doctrine that this declaration is infallible. We are free to consider that in the case of Paul VI, it did not conform to the reality of his life. Dapra rightly criticizes Paul’s failure to defend Humanae Vitae against its critics, which is hardly a display of the cardinal virtue of fortitude. On the other hand, canonization is infallible, meaning that at the moment a person is declared a saint, he is in Heaven, but not necessarily before then. So, we do not have to believe that Paul went straight to Heaven or even that his canonization was prudent.

The (Disappearing) Sound of Silence

David Vincent Meconi, in his article “The Paradox of Silence” (March), has it exactly right when he writes, “In our verbosely saturated culture, in a society in which it has become incumbent to comment on every banality of the day…we have unwittingly rejected the power of silence.” It’s not just words that can pollute silence; our parish pianist supplies a tinkly cocktail-lounge soundtrack to seemingly every moment of the Mass when someone isn’t speaking. I wonder if all this noise is intended to keep our parish competitive with the Sunday services in our separated brethren’s megachurches, where energetic pop bands play gigs.

Meconi cites the great Robert Cardinal Sarah as a key advocate of silence. I’d also like to commend Manfred Eicher, founder of ECM Records, whose artists (and, obviously, the matter of taste enters into this) have been required to demonstrate that if they are going to do something as obscene as interrupt silence, it had better be worth it. This ethic is captured nicely in ECM’s motto, “The most beautiful sound next to silence,” and by the few seconds of silence ECM has included, since the 1990s, at the beginning of each of its recordings.

Paul Tormey

(location withheld)

A Poor Substitute

Richard B. Corradi’s guest column “Controlling the Passions: A Psychiatrist’s Perspective” (March) was outstanding. Our society is dismantling the fundamentals of civilization. First goes the family, and then religion follows. What we are left with is government, which is a poor substitute for family and God.

What caused this dismantling? Briefly, the erosion of Judeo-Christian religion and family values, which were replaced by hardhearted media (mass and social), politicians who politicize issues that shouldn’t be political, and weak leadership.

We are now an ego-driven society. Our motivation is greed — “I must be the richest,” “I must be the most powerful,” etc. — no matter the cost to others.

Charles McCartney

Avon Lake, Ohio

The Most Perplexing Social Disorder

Jason M. Morgan’s column “Rights From Wrongs” (Cultural Counterpoint, March) covers a litany of social disorders: transgenderism, homosexuality, abortion, and more. The transgender contagion is the most perplexing of all social disorders. The social acceptance of both abortion and homosexuality came about perniciously, that is, by decades of wearing us down, first by appealing to our sympathy and now by acts of aggression. But the transgender phenomenon has been a sudden eruption upon society. Affirming gender dysphoria in minor children is happening at lightning speed. Why the rush? It’s the pressure of politics, then the risk of the cancel culture, with an overwhelming push by the mass media.

Speed is of the essence when diagnosing gender disorders. But the psychology of human nature calls for assessments and interventions before delivering a final diagnosis. Instead, what is happening all too often is that a confused minor schedules a brief visit with a psychologist who affirms gender dysphoria, much to the patient’s initial relief. That sets in motion a series of events that leads to an irrevocable medical procedure misleadingly called “gender-affirming care.”

That’s not how the field of mental health is supposed to work. Thank God that’s not how Catholic exorcists work.

Fr. Vincent Lampert is an exorcist priest of the Archdiocese of Indianapolis. He is trained to operate in a way that is the opposite to today’s gender-affirming psychologists. He rules out everything else before considering demonic possession. A person suspected of being possessed needs to have a psychiatric evaluation and a medical examination, for starters. Fr. Lampert says he is trained to be a skeptic.

The majority of transgender cases end up resolving themselves when any medical action is delayed until after puberty. Similarly, the majority of investigations of spiritual assault on individuals determine that there is no possession by demons. The transgender contagion should be examined in the same way exorcists examine suspected demonic possession: with utmost skepticism. Imagine if exorcists were to declare demonic possession at the first, brief consultation and by the hundreds!

Dan Arthur Pryor

Belvidere, New Jersey

JASON M. MORGAN REPLIES:

In early March, a group known as Environmental Progress published information leaked from the World Professional Association for Transgender Health. The information is shocking. In one of the leaked messages, for example, a doctor asks colleagues about giving testosterone injections to a “pre-menarche” girl ten years of age. Many of the other messages are similarly grotesque. When Daniel Black, whom I mentioned in my column, said he “started making plans to have his penis cut off just 30 minutes into a consultation with a doctor concerning his struggles with gender identity when he was 17 years old,” he was not exaggerating, and his experience was not unusual. Transgenderism is not a rational science based on empirically obtained facts tested over and over by experiment and observation. It is a twisted celebration of the abandonment of reason — and of all semblance of human empathy.

I would go further than Dan Arthur Pryor and say that transgenderist “doctors” should not just learn from exorcists how to be skeptical and rational but could also benefit greatly from a visit (or 50) by a priest trained in the prayers of liberation. What these doctors are doing to children is beyond sick. It is Satanic.

I would go further still. A recent Catholic News Agency item (“Priest Says ‘Trans’ People He Has Ministered to Have Deep Wounds,” April 4) tells of the experiences of Fr. Francisco Bronchalo, a priest in Spain. Fr. Bronchalo has met many people who claim to be transgender but who are carrying the scars of abuse and rejection and who see in gender ideology an escape from their inner pain. But no matter how far such people throw themselves into that ideology, Fr. Bronchalo advises, the original hurt remains. “Their hearts are broken,” he says. What heals those who are hurting is not ideology, Fr. Bronchalo continues, but “true love…teaching through true human love what the unconditional love that God has for us is.”

Doctors who claim to offer “gender-affirming care” to the psychologically and spiritually wounded do not love their patients. They hate them, and they take part in their mental and physical torture.

If so-called doctors were more like exorcists in their skepticism — and also more like parish priests, offering true love instead of cheap imitations — then perhaps some of the people who have been devastated by transgenderists could have been saved.

Problems Beneath the Surface

Like many others, I thoroughly enjoyed Donald Lospinuso’s trip down the American Catholic Memory Lane (“‘Not as the World Giveth,’” Dec.). But in both his article and his response to the letters it engendered (March), he makes a terminological error. He says Pope Pius XII made Bishop Thomas Edmund Molloy an archbishop in pectore. In fact, he was raised to that title ad personam (meaning, as an honor in virtue of his person, as his see was not a diocese). Sometimes, popes make cardinals in pectore, as John Paul II did on a few occasions. That is, the men became cardinals but not in public (e.g., because their elevation in a hostile country could cause problems for the prelate and/or his coreligionists).

That said, I also appreciated the comments from various readers, particularly those of my esteemed and beloved classmate, Fr. John A. Perricone, and Msgr. Charles Fink. I am afraid, however, that I find myself more in the camp of Msgr. Fink than that of Fr. Perricone. To be sure, prior to the Second Vatican Council, the Church in America was in far better shape than that in Europe (or at least seemingly so), but there was certainly rot in the system.

One need only reflect on the fact that every major theological dissenter (e.g., Frs. Charles Curran, Richard McBrien, Hans Küng, and Bernard Häring) was ordained well in advance of the Council. Women religious were all too often kept brutally in line by their female superiors (and not by priests or bishops, as latter-day revisionists like to assert). Priests were generally treated dismissively like chattel by their bishops (giving rise to the snide ditty, “We dressed them up like little girls, treated them like little boys, and then wondered why they didn’t act like men”). The vast majority of Catholic politicos raised in the preconciliar era turned out to be assimilationists and accommodationists at best; here one need only think of Nancy Pelosi, Mario Cuomo, the Kennedy clan, Fr. Robert Drinan, and, of course, St. Joe Biden. Perhaps counterintuitively, one finds very many post-Vatican II public officials a great credit to the Church (e.g., Chris Smith, Marco Rubio, Jeb Bush, Peter King, and Sean Duffy).

As for the laity, their role was summarized in the adage, “Pay, pray, and obey.” In other words, a rationale was often lacking in the commands. That mantra might have worked with an immigrant population, but it couldn’t survive with a more educated community. Yes, Americans did obey, but they resented it. I shall never forget a conversation I had with a group of octogenarian women regarding artificial contraception. I have never been so viciously attacked in my life. With venom and seething anger, they said, “Yes, I had those kids, but I never wanted them. I did my ‘duty’ because I was afraid to go to Hell, but I never bought the Church’s line on that stuff.”

To sum up my thoughts: There were serious problems lying below the surface, but also great glories. If Vatican II had been properly implemented in this country, the conciliar agenda could have dealt with our weaknesses, all while preserving our unique strengths (often the result of our unique-in-the-world Catholic school system). It’s not too late to reclaim our heritage.

Rev. Peter M.J. Stravinskas

Editor, The Catholic Response

Pine Beach, New Jersey

How do I begin to clear my whirling head? To whom, when, and where should I direct my mea culpas? I lived in “the splendors of the pre-1965 world of Golden Catholicism,” as described by Fr. John A. Perricone (letter, March) and depicted by Donald Lospinuso (“‘Not as the World Giveth,’” Dec.). Now, in my 80s, I am not sure whether I have joy in savoring all the wonderful memories of Brooklyn’s beloved verdant meadows of churches, priests, and nuns who guided me in my faith; if I have guilt for the now wilted pastures of abandoned or repurposed buildings throughout the borough; or if I have resentment for the Church’s betraying me and leaving me in the lurch.

As I am told is often the case with children who are victims of divorce, I find myself questioning my actions (and inactions) that may have contributed to the vanishing of this “idyllic Catholic world,” as Fr. Perricone put it, a world in which I attended the minor seminary for the Diocese of Brooklyn, Cathedral College Prep Seminary of the Immaculate Conception, basically a feeder school for the major seminary in Douglaston (Queens, NY). It was great while it lasted. But I wonder, as some have asked, was it healthy? Were the powers of evil so cunning that we were lured into a super-comfortable life, allowing a Trojan horse to slip into what we deemed the impenetrable fortress of our Church? Were we, wallowing in the companionship and security of our sheer numbers, oblivious to the ominous signs, posted by the secularism creeping into our society, schools, and, most astonishingly, our Church?

Sure, my wife and I, along with thousands of other “cradle Catholic” families, left crowded Brooklyn for the attractions of its sister borough, Staten Island. At the time, we did not sense that we were abandoning the Diocese of Brooklyn and The Tablet, its official newspaper (which, as a preteen, I delivered locally for a couple years in order to earn just enough money to purchase a Spaulding ball and stickball bat), for the more desirable Archdiocese of New York and its Catholic New York newspaper. The exodus, though completely unrelated, coincided with the now more growingly maligned Second Vatican Council.

But, for decades, the same comfort afforded in the “borough of churches” was evident in the growing parishes of Staten Island. For instance, in the 1970s and 1980s, as was the case in Brooklyn, the common practice of visiting seven churches on the evening of Holy Thursday was easily accomplished (perhaps now only completed virtually). Our children, as they had in Brooklyn, attended Catholic parochial and high schools in Staten Island.

Somehow, someway, sometime, perhaps beginning in the late 1980s, I looked behind the smokescreen that enveloped my robotic Catholicism, and I did not recognize my Church. The schools from which my wife and I had graduated, and eventually our children’s high schools, no longer existed. The Brooklyn parish church (Holy Family on 13th St. and 4th Ave.) where my wife and I had received all our sacraments (from Baptism to Matrimony) had been sold to a developer and was being torn down.

With a sense of urgency and need somehow to hold onto a part of this important time in our lives, I managed to retrieve a couple dozen bricks from the demolition crew working at the heartbreaking site. I created a buried ring of the bricks to surround a major tree fronting our home in Manchester, New Jersey. Above the bricks I built a larger circle of blocks so the bricks would have some permanence. To me and my wife (as well as to my children and anyone else who would listen to my saga), this new structure is a tie to our Brooklyn heritage, and the base of bricks a representation of the foundation of the faith that was developed in our sorely missed Holy Family Parish.

Am I scared? You bet. I’m scared to listen to the news. I’m scared to watch the conflicts within our Holy Church. I’m scared of the direction of both our government and our Church leaders. I’m scared for the future of my grandkids and great-grandkids. What am I doing about it? What can I do about it? More importantly, what did I do then, and what am I not doing now? Mea culpa!

My thanks to Lospinuso for bringing back memories of Catholic Brooklyn and the frequent visits to our parish by Msgr. James W. Asip, director of the Society for the Propagation of the Faith, with flashy purple buttons, piping, and sash, as I recall from when I served Mass for him as an altar boy.

Ken Horstman

Manchester, New Jersey

DONALD LOSPINUSO REPLIES:

I am glad to read of the thorough enjoyment Fr. Peter M.J. Stravinskas experienced in reading my article. I thank him for the correction of the use of in pectore to ad personam. It confirms not only Pope Pius XII’s esteem for Thomas Edmund Molly but the public nature of it during the archbishop’s lifetime.

I have great respect for Fr. Stravinskas in his efforts to advance the cause of Catholic education. In an interview with him that I heard from October 2020, he spoke about the great influence of his fifth-grade teacher, Sr. Regina Rose, then 106 years old, upon his life. This personal reference I find very affecting, and it contrasts sharply with his sweeping dismissals of the “Church in America.” His denunciations of bishops, priests, nuns, and the laity are quite comprehensive. The condescension toward “the immigrant population” in his comparison with “a more educated community” (a questionable characterization) was truly breathtaking.

When reading his condemnations of entire classes of Catholics, the words of the black southerner whom I quoted in the article echoed in my mind: “People are saying so many and such nasty things about the Catholic Church that I cannot help but think there must be some good in it and I am going to find out about it.”

It is a curious convergence when people who unabashedly express their hatred for the Church and attempt to corrupt her beyond recognition (especially but not limited to promoting various heresies or the acceptance and encouragement of sins against the Sixth Commandment), and a priest who does neither, use the same stereotypes about the preconciliar Church. I suppose what we are witnessing in this convergence is another iteration of the belief in discontinuity, that the Church was not the same after the Second Vatican Council — something Pope Benedict XVI tried to overcome, but could not, during his lifetime.

Yet questions arise at every turn. Does anyone know what really happened at the Council? In his extensive book about it (2010), Roberto Di Mattei says the full history is yet to be written, and more documentation is needed. What would have been the proper implementation of Vatican II, how should it have been accomplished, and why was it not? What is the relation of the Novus Ordo Missae to the Council and its proper implementation? Much is here for everyone to think about.

These are all topics endlessly debated. Fr. Stravinskas speaks with absolute self-assurance, as though his assertions were matters of fact, yet he only repeats what sounds like derogatory and unsubstantiated banter. Put all that on one side of the scale, and Sr. Regina Rose on the other, and the latter outweighs them all. And not only Sr. Regina Rose but each one of the innumerable souls from that era.

Some comments are necessary. Against the demeaning characterization of bishops, let us consider one bishop. When Msgr. James W. Asip spoke about Bishop Molloy, he never spoke of someone who would treat a priest like a little boy (the slur about attire deserves no attention). For another thing, there was simply too much unending work to be done by independent and resourceful men. The memorial to Christopher Wren in St. Paul’s Cathedral may be translated as “If you seek his monument — look around.” If you seek Bishop Molloy’s, look at any of the extant buildings of the 75 parishes and 175 schools founded during his tenure as you travel the length and breadth of Long Island.

About the demeaning charac­terization of priests: Did Fr. Stravinskas not recall that I mentioned men whose exploits place them in the company of Fr. Jacques Marquette, St. Junipero Serra, Stanley and Livingstone, and Albert Schweitzer, and who could have stepped out of the pages of Rudyard Kipling, H. Rider Haggard, and John Buchan?

What greatness of character was needed by Fr. Asip and his fellow priests of Msgr. Quinn’s parish who ministered to the black congregation in the most adverse circumstances? Does Fr. Stravinskas not recall reading about them? One can only speculate what discussion may ensue during a chance meeting of the good monsignor with Fr. Stravinskas along the “gallant walks” of the New Jerusalem.

About “the immigrant population” vs. “the more educated community”: Does Fr. Stravinskas not recall that I spoke about the rich and varied intellectual life evidenced weekly in the pages of a diocesan newspaper, the creators and readers of which were members of established immigrant populations?

May I tell you just a few things about my teachers, the Sisters of Charity of Halifax? Sr. Jean Lorraine and Sr. Bernard Marie taught me to read and write (is there a greater gift a teacher can impart than literacy?) and taught me the Baltimore Catechism. Later, other nuns and dedicated women who were not nuns taught Bible stories, prayers, arithmetic, history “nutshells,” and the other humble offerings presented to little children.

On regular occasions, one of the nuns would take from the voluminous folds of her habit a small round black and silver pitch pipe and give the key note for a happy song such as “Loch Lomond.” They taught the boys and girls square dancing. The girls wore white blouses and plaid dresses, and the boys suits and ties. No “dressdown days,” no “pajama days”; decorum became natural and second nature at schools, churches, and social events, never an empty formality but the appropriate way of living in public and never to be abrogated. They prepared us for the sacraments. Devotions were routine.

In the later grades, through their teachings about history, I was left with an ineradicable and bottomless pity for the Jewish victims of genocide, and then for all victims of murder and violence, and a holy indignation against the perpetrators of those crimes.

Each one of my teachers outweighs any derogation, dismissal, stereotype, prejudice, generalization, or belittlement.

Fr. Stravinskas gives no indication of having recalled what he read in the article, judging from the lack of any reference by him when it would have been appropriate. He also does not engage with a single concept (aside from the one about the Latin term) or any of the substantial observations or arguments I presented in my reply to Msgr. Charles Fink.

He says he is “afraid” he is in Msgr. Fink’s “camp,” but I’m not sure about the use of this word. I don’t belong to any camp. We are not rivals.

He does mention “great glories” and “our unique-in-the-world Catholic school system.” He could not be more correct. The latter is inseparably linked with the teaching sisters, without whom the schools would not and could not have existed. They are the benefactresses to be thanked, and not a soulless and unliving “system.”

He speaks of a “rot” in the “system.” What “rot” was in the Apostles’ “system”? Was there a system? No, there were 12 men, one of whom was a traitor. If malefactors can be found, bring the evidence against each one individually. It is a cardinal point of justice that each suspect, even if belonging to a group the members of which are suspected of a crime, be examined and evaluated individually.

If we are not speaking of crimes but of anyone thought to have fallen short of some high standard, perhaps a degree of mercy can be applied, especially for those who lived in times when most people were poor by today’s standards; in the times of the First World War, the Great Depression, the Second World War, the Korean War, and the Cold War; and in times of widespread bigotry and prejudice against Catholics, with superadded biases against Southern and Eastern Europeans.

Perhaps all that is required is a search for justice for each individual. However difficult, seemingly impossible of achievement, no alternative is possible because any alternative would neglect the truth that must be the ground for every prayer and deed. This is our Christian obligation: to seek the truth and speak for the voiceless dead.

I respectfully refer Fr. Stravinskas or any reader to my reply to Msgr. Fink for my views about the study of the past and the need for justice toward every individual.

The letter from Ken Horstman is a remarkable document. What anguish he expresses — self-reproach and questioning, fear and uncertainty. How many Catholics experience such turmoil? I think he has said what many are unable or reluctant to say. It is painful to see someone blaming himself for what is beyond his power to influence. How many turn a reasonable resentment or anger that they are frightened to recognize in themselves against themselves? I think it would be beneficial if more people like Mr. Horstman who are suffering could speak out, and if priests and bishops knowledgeable and articulate enough to do so could begin to address their concerns.

I appreciate Mr. Horstman’s kind words about the article. May I offer something consoling related to its title, which could be easily overlooked? Take heart, Mr. Horstman. The title consists of the words from St. John’s Gospel that are not said during the Mass but which follow the words from the Gospel that are spoken by the priest at every Mass, Tridentine or Novus Ordo, and are Our Lord’s reassurance: “Peace I leave you, My peace I give you. Not as the world gives…. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”

The article has dimensions historical, political, sociological, anthropological, nostalgic, elegiac, documentary, and more, while subsuming all these. Among its meanings it may provide glimpses of what G.K. Chesterton called “the hopeless hope,” “the forlorn hope” that is a peculiar gift one possesses by being a Christian. I invite anyone with the time and the inclination to revisit the actual article by re-reading or recollecting it to discern this dimension.

How Could a Loving God Predestine People to Hell?

James Patrick, in his article “Are We Living in the Last Days?” (Jan.-Feb.), writes, “Only the Father knows when He will withdraw His providential, ordering hand, allowing creation to slip back into the chaos from which He rescued it…. These, the Last Days, are our days. To persevere to the end is to be saved.”

Recently, I had the good fortune to read St. Augustine’s City of God, which contains a treasure trove of information, some very good, some a little confusing, and some even entertaining. Six different Roman gods, each tasked with protecting one of the various parts of the corn plant, so as to help ensure a good crop? Hilarious!

But I was taken aback by Augustine’s claim that we are predestined for Heaven or Hell. If that’s so, then what’s the point of our supposedly having free will? Assuming I’m one of the unfortunates, how could a loving and merciful God create me, knowing full well that an unfathomably agonizing eternity awaits me, and leave me in ignorance of my final fate until I take my last breath?

As I understand it, the argument for predestination goes like this: We live in temporal space, where we can only remember the past, experience the present, and anticipate the future. God lives in eternity, which is outside of time. Therefore, He can see everything inside of time, which is one of His creations, all at once — from infinitely far in the past to infinitely far in the future. He, therefore, knows the final end of each and every one of us, even from before the time we were made.

Although I vehemently disagree with Augustine (and, apparently, many others), I’m not about to surrender my belief system. Rather, the entire case for predestination is based on a flawed system of human understanding.

Take the argument that God is almighty. Yes, He is, up to a point. He was, totally, until He brought into being creatures with free will. Using myself as an example, suppose I decide someone is so evil he deserves death. Nobody else will do the job, so it’s up to me to put a .45-caliber hole in the bridge of the evil person’s nose. As I have the free will God gave me, He cannot control my trigger finger. If He wishes to spare the life of my intended victim, He has any number of tricks up His sleeve. He can cause the gun to jam or the round to be a dud. He can deflect the bullet in mid-flight, causing the .45-caliber hole to appear in a ceiling tile. He can even uncreate the lead atoms comprising the speeding bullet, so all my target experience results in a puff of smoke. But, because I have free will, God is powerless over my trigger finger.

So God, pure-spirit Being that He is, has one anthropomorphized hand, which we humans imagine Him to possess, tied behind His back. How else might He be constrained? Consider that He created a temporal space with a past, present, and future, and then inserted us into it. Then further, He set up a system of salvation whereby the baptized — barring mortal sin — are permanently bonded onto the body of Christ, as branches onto a vine, each of little use without the other. The Father and the Spirit are one with the Son. As long as we humans are stuck in time, God is stuck here with us. Now He not only has one hand tied behind His back but a patch over one eye as well. There are some things He can’t see. And though He can guess better than anyone, He can’t know for certain which of us are destined for eternal glory and which for eternal agony. Predestination is dead.

What future things can God know with absolute certainty? Of all the subatomic particles in a universe with billions of galaxies, each containing billions of stars, He can know the precise future position of each particle that will not be influenced by a being with free will prior to the future time in question. All the rest can be anywhere they’ve been directed by our free-will choices, within the constraints imposed by the laws of physics. We humans can come and go as we please, doing good or ill as we choose, and He can never be entirely sure of each choice we make until after we have made it.

If the foregoing reasoning withstands the test of scrutiny, God can be let off the hook for His heretofore presumedly paradoxical behavior of “lovingly” creating certifiably doomed souls.

If there is anyone among the NOR staff or readers who has the knowledge and capacity to expand on my ramblings, I think it could make for a good feature article.

Jim Rice

Arlington, Texas

THE EDITOR REPLIES:

God doesn’t need to be “let off the hook” for anything. Flawed is the system which presupposes that He must be.

God is almighty — He is “the Father almighty,” as we profess in the Creed — and not “up to a point,” as Jim Rice supposes. God is omnipotent; His might knows no limit. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church puts it, “We believe that this might is universal, for God who created everything also rules everything, and can do everything” (no. 268).

Moreover, in saying God “can never be entirely sure of each choice we make until after we have made it,” Mr. Rice renders God less than omniscient. But we know from Scripture that God is all-knowing: “God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things” (1 Jn. 3:20), and “Neither is there any creature invisible in his sight: but all things are naked and open to his eyes” (Heb. 4:13).

As God rules over everything and knows all things, it stands to reason that He knows — even before we do anything — the choices we will make and the actions we will take. (Saying God knows what we will do “before” we do it limits — or anthropomorphizes, if you prefer — the kind of knowledge God has, which is not bound by temporal constraints or formulations.) That doesn’t mean, however, that He directs our decisions or forces us to act, for He has given us free will. Even our believing in Him is a free act of the will.

God offers us salvation as a gift, and He knows from all eternity who will accept His gift of salvation and who will reject it. He doesn’t need to wait in suspense to see what we will do and decide. The freedom He has bestowed on us diminishes neither His omniscience nor His omnipotence.

But God’s knowing all things doesn’t mean He has predetermined all things, or that He has predestined some people for Heaven and others for Hell. This is the heresy of “double predestination” taught by John Calvin, whereby God arbitrarily (and irrevocably) selects certain individuals to be saved and others to be damned, no matter what they do in this life. This is not what we believe as Catholics — and this is not what St. Augustine says.

The Catechism teaches that “God’s almighty power is in no way arbitrary” (no. 271), and that “men, as intelligent and free creatures, have to journey toward their ultimate destinies by their free choice…. They can therefore go astray” (no. 311). God desires that all will be saved, but by our sinful acts we can lose the gift of faith and the gift of salvation. God will not necessarily prevent that dreadful outcome.

The Catechism explains: “To God, all moments of time are present in their immediacy. When therefore he establishes his eternal plan of ‘predestination,’ he includes in it each person’s free response to his grace” (no. 600). God, as omniscient, knows who will freely respond to His grace; these He “predestines” to salvation, based on this knowledge. So, yes, God does, in fact, “know for certain” who is destined for eternal glory and who for eternal agony, but He has not predetermined these outcomes.

St. Augustine argued for this in City of God as well:

We assert both that God knows all things before they come to pass, and that we do by our free will whatsoever we know and feel to be done by us only because we will it…. But it does not follow that, though there is for God a certain order of all causes, there must therefore be nothing depending on the free exercise of our own wills, for our wills themselves are included in that order of causes which is certain to God, and is embraced by His foreknowledge, for human wills are also causes of human actions; and He who foreknew all the causes of things would certainly among those causes not have been ignorant of our wills. (Book V, Ch. 9)

As to Rice’s worry that God might have created him “knowing full well that an unfathomably agonizing eternity” awaits him, the Catechism allays that as well: “God predestines no one to go to hell” (no. 1037).

There is, therefore, no need to tie one of God’s hands behind His back or place a patch over one of His eyes in order to solve the problem of predestination.

Nevertheless, much more could be said on this topic, which is one of the great controversies in theology. We would welcome more attempts to address Mr. Rice’s concerns and St. Augustine’s somewhat convoluted expressions (at least to modern readers) of this Catholic doctrine. Any takers?

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