Word on Fire

By Robert Barron

Catholic-ometer: 4.5 of 5

Enjoyability: 5 of 5

I once again find myself forced to make a hard choice.  Whenever I see a problem with faithfulness to the church, or with inadequately explaining the church's teachings, I have a tendency to explain it to death; a practice that I intend to continue, because these things need to be clarified by someone.  The question really winds up being "is this serious enough to merit a whole star down?"

In this case, the answer is "probably not; no."  Father Barron has put together a most impressive series of homily transcripts, which actually amazed me by the depth of their understanding, and their clarity of teaching.  That, by itself, becomes slightly less surprising when you learn that, like myself, Father Barron is something of a Thomist, and treasures the writings of Thomas Aquinas.

I was very impressed by several points in this book.  In particular, he amazed me with the clear messages that he drew from Nehemiah, his defense of the real presence, and his descriptions of the theological dilemmas of the recent past and how they were solved; particularly the ones relating to glory; who gets it and why.  I can also say with absolute confidence that I have never in my life heard anyone sufficiently describe the notion of catholic "worship" in the normal work of a lawyer, a doctor, etc, until Father Barron did it.  In nearly every objective sense, this book is truly excellent.

I have only one issue to bring against it.  More than once, as an example of the good work done by holy men and women, Father Barron mentions Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin, and the organization which they founded; the Catholic Worker Movement.

I don't know nearly as much about Dorothy Day as I would like to, but Peter Maurin held a radical belief, which he implemented into the Worker Movement; he believed that evildoing or immorality on the part of a government official removed their God-given authority to govern their citizens, and that therefore, it was perfectly acceptable for people to ignore the rules of a corrupt government and form their own communes, making up their own rules for social collaboration as they went along.  Today, we call this by the popularized name of "liberation theology," but perhaps it would be easier to understand if I just sum it up by saying that it's basically Marxism with a cross on top.

The Worker Movement has a number of other problems as well, but I target its involvement in liberation theology because that's a belief that has been specifically condemned by at least the last two popes.

Father Barron's understanding of Catholic theology is truly amazing, and for the most part, I was astonished by the quality of his book; almost to the point of refusing to believe any ill of him.  For the moment, therefore, I will simply assume that this one aspect of the book was probably just imperfectly-researched, and I'll give it the best score I can.

Understanding the church's position on social teaching isn't really so difficult.  It's all about loving God first, then our neighbor second.  We love them by doing what's best for them; putting them first and ourselves afterwards.  However, let's not deny that many agencies claiming to be Catholic subsist only by lying about church teaching; claiming that the vatican never specifically condemned communism, socialism, marxism, liberation theology and so forth.  This is a technical tidbit of the faith that anyone could be forgiven for overlooking, since it's not out there in the culture like it once was, but that doesn't negate church teaching.  Until further evidence comes up, this is all I'll say for now.

Who Needs God?

By Cardinal Christoph Schoenborn and Barbara Stockl

Catholic-ometer: 2 of 5

Enjoyability: 2 of 5

This book makes me sad, because I don't like having to choose between supporting a Cardinal of the Church, and supporting the truths of Jesus Christ.  That said, I can and will make such a decision in the only way possible.

However, before I begin, I feel I should point out that this book is essentially a long interview in book form.  Because of this, the Cardinal probably didn't have the time he needed to think through his responses well enough, and this may have lead to some of the problems I'm about to mention.  I can't prove it, but it's a viable explanation, I think.

This book is full of mistakes; more than I have time to describe in detail, so instead, I feel I should mention its overarching problems.

Firstly, the interviewer is either very opposed to Catholic morality, or very sympathetic to those who are.  At every turn, she seems to take the tack of "the church should be questioning itself," "we should be able to oust the pope," "the church's stance on x needs to change," etc, etc, etc, and the Cardinal gives her altogether too much legroom with his responses, which in general, come across as weak, flimsy and pseudo-subjective.  Numerous times, he suggests that she be careful what she means when she says "church," but doesn't clarify the point, only making the Q&A even more confusing.

However, this over-permissiveness seems to be a two-way street, since Barbara also comes across as too forgiving whenever she asks the Cardinal a yes-or-no question, and his answer contains neither of those words, and generally lasts several paragraphs.  He uses terminology which is not nearly specific or direct enough, and often makes claims that are simply untrue.  A list of these claims is as follows.

1. Job's friends were like theologians.
2. We shouldn't judge other religions.
3. The Vatican is just a symbolic nation.
4. Religion isn't for intensifying conflict.
5. The Holy Trinity is not logically-verifiable.
6. The Church is part of this world.

This is by no means an exhaustive list, but it should do to start.  All of these are false.

1. Job's friends were not using logic to try to understand God, meaning they're not like theologians.
2. It's part of Catholic doctrine that all religions except the Catholic Church involve some element of falsehood.  This is a judgment that we're obligated to make about other religions.
3. The Vatican is definitely a real nation.  That's why the pope is considered a head of state.
4. Jesus himself said that he had come not to bring peace, but a sword, and that families would turn against one another on his account.  Doesn't sound like he wanted a worldly peace.
5. We can use logic to determine the oneness and the multipleness of God, thus proving the trinity,
6. and finally, the Church is Jesus Christ, existing both in this world, and in the two higher ones (Purgatory and Heaven.)  It's more like Earth is a part of the Church in that sense.  Oh, sure, you can say the church -militant- is a soujourner in this world, but that's not the claim he made.

He also says early on in the book that he thinks urbanization is largely responsible for the declining mass attendance, and later remarks that the loss of the church's holdings, and its role in global power are good things.  Admittedly, on these issues, we can simply agree to disagree.  As I see it, urbanization was around long before the 1970s, when the steep decline began, so it's unlikely that was the cause of the plummeting mass figures (other likely causes include; the first generation raised on television being old enough to make their own decisions, the rise of the hippie, widespread drug use and hedonism, or any of the other grave evils that washed over the world during the 70s.)  As for the rest, I just don't think it's quite as good for the church, or for Catholics, when the church becomes so weak and defenseless that she can't in any way influence the way the faithful are allowed to live.  As I said, though, these aren't mistakes; just disagreements.

Several times throughout this book, Barbara questions a teaching of the church, and the Cardinal sort of tiptoes around the issue, without really saying yes or no, or implying that the church has any sort of right to teach infallibly in these matters.  The weakness is so thick, at times, that I could cut it with a machete.

However, he also said something that hit much too close to home for me, in terms of reminding me just why I once lost the faith for so long as a teenager.  At the top of page 53, he said that Jesus' only answer to the question of why God allows evil is to suffer with us, and that if that image doesn't move us, there's not much he can do for us.

Well, that image does move me, but not in the way he hopes.  You see, as a teenager, I was convinced that anyone responsible for evil had to be punished somehow, and justice restored.  I saw God in this way; as being responsible for all evil, and for every second of suffering that I went through, I felt that the imbalance was growing worse.  Whenever others suffered with me, that only doubled or tripled the injustice of it all.  Using this line of reasoning, when God suffers with you, that makes the injustice infinite, and therefore, infinitely unacceptable.  This is the reasoning that I originally used to reject the faith.

What brought me back to the faith was just what the Cardinal so cavalierly dismisses; solid reasoning, used to properly explain the teachings of Catholicism; delivered by one of the greatest intellectuals of all time; Saint Thomas Aquinas.

He proved, using logic, that God does not create evil, because evil is merely an absense of good, and requires no creator.  He also established that God can have morally-sufficient reasons for allowing evil (namely, because he is capable of undoing the evil and bringing even greater good out of it in the end, without the evil needing to remain in order to support the good.)  This argument was thoroughly logical, and it convinced me to come back to the faith.

Let me end this review by saying the only thing that really matters, and appropriately, it's the one thing you won't read anywhere in this book.

Jesus Christ was the only Son of God.  God is eternal, which means that his nature is perfect and unchanging.  It is easier for Heaven and Earth to pass away than for one iota of the law of God to pass away.  Therefore, we cannot change God's law.  I can't, you can't, and certainly the Church and the Pope can't.  Even God won't do that.  I'm not even sure he could.

As for the Catholic Church, it is the one, true church of Jesus Christ, founded personally by the son of God upon blessed Peter, and protected forever from teaching error in matters of faith and morals by the Holy Spirit himself.  Because of its divine origins, it is inherently superior to all other religions, and therefore, all men are called to it.  Without it, there would be no salvation.

I would hope that the Cardinal still agrees with all of these basic teachings of the church, and I won't say a word more than that.

Arise From Darkness

By Benedict J. Groeschel, C.F.R.

Catholic-ometer: 4 of 5

Enjoyability: 3.5 of 5

This is the first book by Benedict Groeschel that I've ever read, and it probably won't be the last.  I started reading without a whole lot of knowledge about him.  All I knew was that, like Scott Hahn and Peter Kreeft, he was one of the "modern apologists" who've written and popularized the Catholic faith in the current age.  I mention Hahn and Kreeft for a specific reason.  One of them, in my mind, is magnificently knowledgable and faithful, and the other tries to be, but sometimes winds up making mistakes that don't get filtered out in the proofreading stage.  In short, I suspected that Father Groeschel would be similar to at least one of these two.  I just didn't know which one.

Regrettably, if this book is anything to go by, I'm afraid he'd closer to Kreeft than Hahn.  I get the impression that he's doing his best to be faithful, and yet, there are mistakes here or there; often merely as a result of not being clear enough in his wording on a particular subject, or tiptoeing around serious moral issues, as if trying to avoid hurting someone's feelings.  This approach will make you more popular, but it won't make you holier.

Case in point; the chapter on what to do when the church disappoints us.  He says (correctly,) that we need to understand what we mean by "church;" that "church" can mean a group of people, a group of bishops, a heirarchy, a specific diocese, or even a specific person who's a baptised Catholic.  He also says (again, correctly,) that it's our obligation to exercise loyalty to our church.  The problem is that while he advocates care in defining "church," he doesn't explain which definition is correct.

The correct definition of "church" to use is "the teachings and authority of the bishop of Rome and the magisterium, and the holy writings and decrees which they have approved."  It does not mean an independant conference of bishops set up in an individual nation, it does not mean your particular diocese, and it certainly doesn't mean a feminist nun who happens to run the religious education program at your local parish.  Even to these figures, we should prefer loyalty, but only on issues that don't go against the will of legitimate church teaching (Pope, Magisterium, traditions, scripture, etc...)  If there is a conflict between the pastor of your parish and the teachings or authority of the church of Rome (such as; he wants to support the CCHD, and you know for a fact that they defie church teaching,) then your obligation is to the Pope, and as such, to ignore the authority of your pastor in this matter.

That really doesn't take too long to explain, yet he doesn't explain it, leaving the doorway open to be misinterpreted.

He also says in at least one point that the Council of Trent forbade people from taking about Purgatory in terrifying terms.  This sounded false to me, so I looked it up.  I admit, I still haven't finished reading all of the council documents, but thusfar, the closest I've been able to find to this claim is the decree at the beginning of the 25th session of Trent, concerning Purgatory, which prohibits subtle, difficult discussions of Purgatory, which don't edify and don't increase piety, from being discussed with the less-educated public.  It also forbids silly superstitions about Purgatory, and uncertain guesses or theories about Purgatory also shouldn't be matters of general discussion, but there's nothing in there about not "making it seem terrifying."

Ultimately, though, what disturbed me most was Father Groeschel's claim, near the very beginning of the book, that "the human mind can't understand the reason for suffering," and "we just have to accept the existence of this mystery."

While I agree with him that there are mysteries which we have yet to unlock, and can't unlock by our own power, making the claim in these terms does nothing to help make him look educated, and even makes the church look clueless and helpless in the face of this "unsolvable puzzle."

In reality, of course, the "mystery" is not "why is there evil?" but rather "what are -all- the reasons why there is evil?"  This last question is the one that has an infinite answer, which we can't fully comprehend, because God is infinite, and so are the number of reasons he has for what he does and allows.  Still, if you're only looking to find out one of those reasons, then the answer is simple.

God allows evil because he is a God of love.  Love requires a loving response.  A loving response can only be made freely by a being that possesses free will.  Free will can only be exercised by the freedom to make choices.  Choices involve something to choose between.  Therefore, in order for God to be loved by us, we must have the opportunity to refuse his love.  This is one key reason for the existence of evil, and it's certainly not beyond the ability of human intelligence to grasp.

The book itself is about the variety of situations that can make us feel most lost and abandoned, and how we can emerge from them; undefeated, holy and stronger from the experience.  When seen in this light, it's still far from the best book on the subject, nor does it reference other great books of the past.  The impression I got was of a modern book, written for the modern audience, which, for the most part, refuses to read anything more than a century old.

Is this book good?  Sure.  Is it neccesary?  Probably.  Is it particularly outstanding in any area?  Yes; the motive to be virtuous drove this book's creation, and that is certainly outstanding.

However, if you were to ask me for my favorite books on the subject of enduring suffering, this (and for that matter, most modern books) would fail to make it into my top ten.  It's not a weak book, but it could stand to be a little stronger, a little wiser, and a little clearer on some of its points.

Where We Got the Bible

By Henry G. Graham

Catholic-ometer: 5 of 5

Enjoyability: 5 of 5

Step by step, and point by point, this book makes its message perfectly clear.  The bible comes from the Catholic Church; nobody else, and certainly not the other way around.

This is a very well-researched and strongly-written book.  It makes no compromises, and no mistakes in its conclusions, gradually describing the origins of the bible among ancient Rome and the early church fathers, the preservation of the bible by Catholic monks, the copying and reading of the bible into vernacular languages several dozen times prior to Martin Luther, and how those same scriptures were so badly mistreated by the "luminaries" of the "reformation."

The book succeeds wonderfully in addressing and exposing the many lies surrounding the notion that the Catholic Church has in some way prevented people from reading the bible, or tried to keep them ignorant in some way; a popular notion in protestantism, unfortunately, to this very day.

Of course, if you're a protestant yourself, and you read this, you may come off feeling deeply-insulted.  Mr. Graham's wording isn't always the most gentle, but he gets to the point, and in a somewhat-amusing way at times, I think.

This book won't be the one to convince your protestant relatives to suddenly give up and become Catholic, but it's as faithful and accurate as any book I've read on the subject, and that's plenty good enough to earn it a perfect score.