Love One Another As I Have Loved You

Today's readings (Ex 12:1-8, 11-14, Ps 116:12-13, 15-16bc, 17-18 with the Antiphon from 1 Cor 10:16, 1 Cor 11:23-26, and Jn 13:1-15) are all about one important thing ... the Supper. Exodus points to the Passover meal that would be both the occasion of the Last Supper and its type, the Psalm calls the presidential prayers offered by Christ and priests ever since, the Epistle relates the actual story of the Institution. They are also intimately about the central figure in the readings: Christ and ever afterward his priests.

Now, I have not forgotten the Gospel. One might be tempted to think that is because it might appear that the Gospel is only tangentially about the Supper. The Supper itself is only mentioned briefly. But to that I say, on the contrary, it isn't about the Supper, it is the Supper.

In order to elucidate this, one must take a step back and think about John's Gospel in general. What can be said of it compared to the synoptics? In a sense, it is the one most concerned with Jesus the private individual, Jesus the private teacher, the one most concerned with Christ's Interior Life, whereas the synoptics are concerned with the public Christ. Where the other Gospels see Christ up into the mountain to pray and leave Him there, we are listening close to Him as he does in John. There is something else about John to keep in mind: he explains so much with very simple terms. Consider how words like Light, Bread, Water, Word, and so on are used in the Gospel narratives in John. John does not prepare a Doctoral Thesis like Paul's Epistle to the Romans. John's Gospel is eloquent, complete and satisfying precisely because it is so simple. He is also the Evangelist most concerned with showing more than telling. Think of how the Gospel begins ... with a hymn! But the rest of the Gospel shows how this hymn is true. It doesn't just say "look at the doctrine in this hymn to the Word. There it is, that's the doctrine." No, instead the whole Gospel shows us.

So now we return to the Gospel pericope for tonight and how it is intimately connected to the other readings. The synoptics usually focus on the Institution narratives because that is really their first crack at the Eucharistic significance of the event. But John already covered it by describing Christ's Bread of Life discourse in Chapter 6 (interestingly, that pericope is one that is in reverse. First, He showed people what the Eucharist was with the significant symbols of fish and bread, and only then did He tell them what it was after). So what happens in John is that he shows us what Christ did to demonstrate what the Supper was. Remember ... the showing not telling ... the simple language ... This is what the Supper is and does. It cleanses us who have already been cleansed by being admitted into the body. It is, in the words of the Pange Lingua, Christ giving His own body to his disciples with his very hands, and then calling on them to do this for each other, the community of believers. All of these things that we say about the Washing of the Feet: they are about service, they are about the institution of the Sacrament of Orders. All true, but ... that is only because this pericope is about the Supper itself. All our devotions flow from and back to this event. And this is why it was this Gospel, this act re-enacted in the Sanctuary tonight. Father washed the parishioners' feet, because Christ washes us in the Sacrament. We have priests now, specially set aside for this purpose, so that Christ can continue to give Himself with His very hands to us.

And that is the really message of the mandatum (Jn 13:34), why this is called Maundy Thursday. This is how Christ loved His disciples, by giving Himself so intimately and totally to them and for them.

The Power of the Almighty

I wasn't always a Calvinist. Like many Protestants of my generation my parents first attended a small neighborhood church. The church sang only hymns in the early 90s and then, in an effort to gain members, switched to the pithy "contemporary christian" music now found in the megachurches. The theology was pre-millennial (meaning that the Left Behind books served as youth group manuals) and generally avoided the hard questions of the faith. God was "our friend" . When you prayed, you were asking God for a favor, just like you would ask your mother or father for a favor.

This sort of belief was unsatisfying, which is why I made my slow drift into Calvinism. While I expect most of Ogden's readers to have a cursory knowledge of the term, I'd like to give a definition, and explain what I believe are its strongest points and do away with misunderstandings. The Fundamental belief of Calvinism is that God is Sovereign and good. He decides what happens in Heaven and on Earth, although he gives humanity freedom. Like all other orthodox traditions, we teach that God created humanity in His own image, that is, with an independent will, and that humanity used this will for evil. God sent Christ to save us from our sins, and we must accept living under the will of Christ in order to be saved. This is all rudimentary and basic, but here is where Calvinism differs from our Eastern, Catholic, Lutheran, and Arminian brothers in Christ. Calvin taught, after reading the scripture, that humanity was incapable of saving itself through works and required God's sovereign grace. The idea is not original, after all, Augustine taught something very similar to calvinism. humanity has free will, but we are so sinful, so corrupted, that faith in Christ is not a choice that is available to us. Bernard Lonergan, a Catholic theologian, believed that each person existed in different horizons, and that we were incapable of seeing beyond our own horizon. This is much the same, humanity, on its own, is incapable of freely choosing Christ. Although some have accused Calvinists of arrogance in believing themselves to be of the elect, calvinism is indeed the opposite. We believe that no person is capable of choosing Christ, and we are grateful if Christ has given us the grace to love him. Charles Spurgeon, a great Calvinist preacher, puts the contrast between Calvinists and Arminians this way

"Lord, I thank thee I am not like those poor presumptuous Calvinists Lord, I was born with a glorious free-will; I was born with power by which I can turn to thee of myself; I have improved my grace. If everybody had done the same with their grace that I have, they might all have been saved. Lord, I know thou dost not make us willing if we are not willing ourselves. Thou givest grace to everybody; some do not improve it, but I do. There are many that will go to hell as much bought with the blood of Christ as I was; they had as much of the Holy Ghost given to them; they had as good a chance, and were as much blessed as I am. It was not thy grace that made us to differ; I know it did a great deal, still I turned the point; I made use of what was given me, and others did not-that is the difference between me and them."

Calvinism is a tradition that that puts the power of God supremely above humanity. This is the underlying belief of Calvinism, we cannot save ourselves without God first acting to save us. The rest is simply the logical outgrowth of this belief.

Calvin's 5 points are as follow Total Depravity, Unconditional Election, Limited Atonement, Irresistible Grace, and Perseverance of the Saints.



Total Depravity is once again, merely words meant to describe the state of a sinful humanity. While men may seek God, they cannot love God on their own. We are so sinful that we have willfully cut ourselves off from Him. This is perhaps one of the least controversial aspects of Calvinist theology

Unconditional Election is merely words to describe the belief that God does not save people because of their own action. When put this way, it is a belief that all Christians can ascribe to. However, other branches are uncomfortable with the logical fallout of this belief. God must have chosen those he wished to save. This is not to discourage anyone from seeking salvation, indeed, it is quite the opposite. It lets people know that no matter how sinful, God can still save them. This is not double-predestination(as hyper-calvinists might confuse some into believing). Humanity has damned itself.

Limited Atonement is perhaps the most controversial aspect of Calvinism because critics(and hyper-Calvinists) misinterpret its meaning. Limited Atonement does not mean that Christ only died for part of the world or only for the elect. It means that his sacrifice was only MEANT for the elect. God can and quite possible might decide to save everyone, but the penalty paid on the Cross was meant for those God has chosen for eternity.

Irresistible Grace is also often misinterpreted. It does not teach that the Holy Spirit cannot be resisted, it only teaches that those God has willed to save will be saved.

Perseverance of the Saints is in opposition to the modern evangelical notion of once saved, always saved. Modern evangelicals teach, erroneously, that if you say a little prayer when you are a small child, that you can grow up to be the next Hitler and still go to Heaven, because after all, you have fire insurance. Perseverance of the saints teaches that instead, those who fall away from the faith were never a part of the elect to begin with. As Christ teaches in the parable of the Sower, the plants sown in rocks or thorns died off, their faith never had a chance. This view is consistent with Christ's pledge that nothing can remove us from his hand while avoiding the ridiculousness of the modern evangelical ideas.

Calvinism is not some extreme, insane theology(although hypercalvinism, which is a misinterpretation that focus on the wrong aspect of the tradition is). It is a sensible, reasonable exposition of the faith that is much needed in today's America.

Thoughts on a Passionate Journey of a King

cum illud bibam novum in regno Dei

tu es rex Iudaeorum

have rex Iudaeorum

I'm just going to jot down a few thoughts that occurred to me about today's readings (as well as the processional Gospel). The first thing that strikes me about the readings is the journey motif, and the other is the constant reference to kings and kingdoms.

Obviously, it is not surprising that on Palm Sunday we should experience the concept of "journey." Christ rides into Jerusalem (precisely as Simon Maccabeus did. cf 1 Macc 13:51). His long journey of Ministry is drawing to a close. The Gospel narratives then have him give a number of important lessons which we don't read today. Instead, the Mass, via the Liturgy of the Word, takes on another journey. We move from the triumphal entrance into Jerusalem and the tone begins to slowly change. We have the suffering servant piece from Isaiah 50. This excerpt could almost be read as just shy of proud; almost boasting that in spite of these terrible things, he can hold his head high. Then the Psalm is a little darker. The Epistle gives us the closest hint of what is coming next when it mentions Christ's Incarnation (a kind of journey), His kenosis. And then we have the journey from the Last Supper to the Cross. This is a perfect preparation for the week we're about to experience. It too is a journey through the Crucifixion to the Resurrection, something hinted at in the Psalm's final stanza. It is there, if only out of focus.

But why? Because it is a journey of a king. It is important to note that Christ's enemies set him up to be Caesar's enemy (this we will explicitly here in Jn 19 on Good Friday). And that's an interesting point. During this period of Roman History, the Emperor made numerous efforts to create a legal fiction that he was not monarchial. Augustus adopted the title of First Citizen in order to convey that he was rather a protector of republican not monarchist values. So the Caesars, during the Principate, were kings in reality if not name. Moreover, an Imperial decree was an evangelium, the same word for Gospel. And they claimed to be a Son of a god. But Christ was a real king, and not just in name only, since he was the Principal Author of Creation ("through whom all things were made"). His Good News was real, genuine and timeless. It had been issued before Caesar was born, before there was an Italian Penninsula, before Aeneas ever left Troy, etc. And Caesar only claimed to be a Divi filius, son of a deified man (Julius Caesar, in fact). Christ was the true Son of the Living God, the filius Dei. To continue this line even further, each Caesar claimed to be the mortal descendant of a quite mortal God (i.e. Julius Caesar). But Christ would show Himself to be a Son over whom Death could have no power, the Son of an Ever-living God.

We should spend Holy Week reflecting on this interesting point. The True God, True Man "humbled Himself, becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross" precisely because He was a king. This journey to the Cross, through death, to the Resurrection was a journey He undertook for our sakes ... because He is our King. The authority that let Him cleanse the temple, was the same authority by which He submitted to death for our sakes. Only the king could die for us, and only the king could have the power to ignore death and rise again.

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I will probably not be blogging much this week, since it is a week of prayerful reflection, but I might post something on Holy Thursday tying it into Good Friday.

Two Issues of Sadness

Recently as I have been reading the blogs two topics have lit the blogosphere ablaze. But I decided not to respond immediately, but rather to ruminate on them. Those who read the blogs listed on my blogroll will have certainly encountered them: The Rev. Katherine Hancock Ragsdale's sermon praising abortion as a blessing, and the decision by Notre Dame to invite President Obama to speak.

The first was most disturbing to me ... (click for more)
The first was most disturbing to me. It was actually originally posted on another Blogger site: Sermons by Katherine Ragsdale. There it had an August 2008 date, and the one she has on her site now has a 2007 date. The date is important because Father Z pointed to Diogenes on April Fools Day. And when one reads the document, can one be in any doubt of why I might want to check the date? It makes me sick to even copy and paste the root of her commentary, but it is simply this: "Abortion is a blessing and our work is not done." Yes, that's right. Sick, isn't it?

I mean I find it difficult to even describe what this. But one thing is clear, it is objectively evil. Now, please understand I am saying the content and not the person. Given the distance of time that has occurred, we cannot safely make judgements on the content of others' souls. But the words as they exist on the page are evil. It is a pity that the original page was deleted, because some of the comments were instructive. Several commentators identified themselves as "pro-choice," but even they were appalled at the sentiments described. Partly that is because of what the pro-life community has long said and the well-meaning segments of the "pro-choice" community have denied even to themselves, that there are such people who want more abortions not fewer. She begins her piece noting that the Democrats have dropped the "safe, legal, and rare" language from their platform. Now, we know from the text she wants them to be safe, and she clearly wants abortions to remain legal. So that leaves only the rare to which she must object. If she doesn't want them to be rare ...

But obviously a desire to see murder -- and yes we can objectively say that abortion is murder since the foetus in the womb has all the necessary qualities of a human being and murder is the needless killing of a human -- more frequently carried out is not the only thing evil about this. The idea that anything could be blessed about this is shocking. Some of her examples suggest to me she has no idea what blessings are. Take one of her examples: for a woman in poverty the abortion is a blessing. Surely, it's a tragedy ... two tragedies! One that anyone should have to live in such abject poverty, but that a death is the only option for her (or so she thinks). Surely that's calamitous. Surely that is reprehensible. Surely that is everything but blessed. All of her other examples are of the same ilk. Far from blessed they are tragedies. That anyone should think that a death is the only available solution is a source of tears not glad tidings.

But why? Why can this speech be filled with such obvious evil? Or to put it in the terms of St Augustine, be so lacking in Good? I think you will want to read Pr. Lehmann's take. For he is right. We cannot be surprised that Good is lacking when Christ Himself seems to be as distant from the sermon as one can get.

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Since it is on the same subject of abortion, I will comment briefly on the Obama Invite. Now numerous members of the Episcopate have already commented. Two of the most notable are Cardinal DiNardo's, Archbishop Nienstedt's and Archbishop Beltran's responses. Although, they are by no means the only ones. People are rightly up-in-arms over this, because as ND is the most pre-eminent Ostensibly Catholic University or College (OCUC for short). And as an OCUC, one staffed by the Holy Cross Fathers no less, there is a presumption that one will make at least a passing attempt at being ... Catholic ... and teaching what the Catholic Church teaches ... But the self-same Adversary who moved behind the Reverend Ragsdale's sermon is also trying to do his worst in our Church. And this is why he has contrived to have arguably the most pro-abortion President in American History come to the pre-eminent OCUC in America. It is the Adversary's hope to push Christ further out. So it is not surprising that "Jesus wept" -



I am fairly staggered that President Obama, incidentally, has done more for this one constituency than even fixing the economy. One would think the latter should be more pressing, but dead babies can't vote, and the pro-abortion lobby are extremely powerful. But, Catholics also contributed to his victory, perhaps as much as the pro-abortionists. Are we now feeling buyer's remorse?

My own personal take is similar to Father Z's, we should take out television ads praising him for clearly so identifying with what the Catholic Church holds, in much the same way people did to President Bush over his Bob Jones appearance.

Four Years Ago Today

John Paul II went to sleep with his fathers in the hope of the resurrection on this day four years ago. I fervently pray that the Holy Father will confirm my belief that John Paul II heard his Saviour say "Well done, my good and faithful servant."

On the Multiple Senses of Scripture

When reading yesterday's readings, I was struck that it was so apropos with respect to Pr. Lehmann's and my discussion in the combox below on the senses of Scripture. It also ties in somewhat with the post I have just done on the Lectionary.

The Old Testament reading from Numbers retells the story of the Bronze Seraph, the serpent that was held aloft and any who looked upon it was healed. Wis 16:5-7 dwells on the theological implications of this, in that it affirms that the Seraph didn't do the healing, but God did. It is a condign merit, in that God promises a reward for doing some act and keeps His promise. The people didn't deserve the Seraph or the healing. The pericope makes clear they grumbled. But God promised them gratuitously that if they looked upon it, they would be healed. Thus the people didn't merit the healing, per se, but instead were granted the healing because God fulfills His promises. That's the sort of literal take anyway, with apologies for the slight digression/explication.

But it is clear both implicitly in the Gospel for the day, and more explicitly in Jn 3:14 that Christ saw this action as being a prefigurement of the Crucifixion. In this sense the holding up of the Seraph has much wider meaning for us. It is the same with the Red Heifer and Isaac's Sacrifice, as well as others. All these point to Christ in some way, and especially the saving Cross.

But we might not appreciate this aspect of the story from Numbers, if the Church didn't bid us take note of it in the Lectionary and then also juxtapose it with Christ's own commentary? This is also, therefore, one of the benefits of the Lectionary. That we can appreciate other aspects and senses that might not be immediately apparent when we only read passages independently of one another ...

The Lectionary

(This might post twice, and if so I'll keep the version which reads the best)

Pr. Lehmann, on his blog, discusses the Lectionary in his ecclesial tradition. Of interest is that he approaches it from the perspective of having to preach various pericopes and how this keeps one honest. I remember my confessor years ago wryly admitting to me that after years and years of doing so it can be hard to think of new things to say about the Corpus Christi readings for example. Pr. Lehmann has a few more years to go, I suspect, before he runs into that problem.

There are two things I like about our Lectionary. First, in a three year period, if one was to attend daily Mass, one would hear almost all of Scripture proclaimed. Now, it's true some bits are left out (like those thrilling genealogies in the beginning of 1 Paralipomenon, aka Chronicles. Mother Church felt the stirring excitement of those lines likely too much for anyone to handle all at once. Perhaps at a future time). And, in a similar vein to Pr. Lehmann's observation, it forces the whole of Scripture to be proclaimed, even if the lector or priest would prefer not to. I think of the pericope that contains Eph 5:22. If the priest is of a ... shall we say .. "progressive" bent, this passage might not be one he wishes to proclaim because it might offend his sensibilities. But Holy Mother Church bids it proclaimed, and so it is.

The second thing I like is not independent of the first, and that is the fact that the Lectionary ensures that the whole world hears the same Word proclaimed at the same time. Thus, when the Church bids Eph 5:22 be proclaimed, the sun never sets on it when it is so bid. In this way the two parts of the mass, the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist both have a kind of koinonia.

And so the Lectionary is a great gift to us, because it is part and parcel of the "universality" of Christ's Church.

What I hope to accomplish

What is a Calvinist doing on a blog run by a Catholic? Perhaps some of my fellow brother Calvinists will be alarmed at my working together with a "Papist". After all, traditionally, Calvinism and Catholicism don't typically get along. I believe that calling the Pope the whore of Babylon caused quite a bit of consternation in Rome. And we are the strain of Protestant thought that has clung most closely to the principles of the Reformation.

But, relax my Presbyterian, Dutch Reformed, Congregational, Reformed Baptist, and otherwise Calvinist kin, Ogden and I are not taking communion together, only running a blog. After all, even if followers of Calvin and followers of the Bishop of Rome have difference, we can always agree to criticize other sections of the faith!

Today, I'll begin by criticizing something that has become a trend in the modern evangelical movement, although I'm not sure if it has crossed over into Catholicism as well, the modern missions trip. A youth group, student group at a Christian college, or other form of young christian fellowship decides to take a trip to (insert third world country) in order to (build church, do repairs, distribute aid). They typically spend half a year raising about 3000 each to take 30-50 people to the third world for two weeks. Usually, none of the group actually speaks the local language. These sort of trips are perhaps the most wasteful, counterproductive type of missions going on today.

Take a group going to Nicaragua over Spring break. They have to spend 100,000 for the trip, and what is accomplished for that 100,000? A church is constructed in a town where most people don't even have a job, the town's clothiers are put out of business as the town is transformed from rag wearing to abercrombie and fitch hand-me-downs wearing, and the church is left, until the next group comes in to paint. These trips aren't good for the third world countries, and they aren't even beneficial to the young Christians who go on them.

For young Christians, promoting spiritual stability ought to be a priority. It is hard enough to be 16 years old in a country that is rich enough for teen angst to exist and even be promoted, but with the constant retreats, camps, and missions trips, the tendency is for closeness to Christ to rise and fall during and after these spiritual vacations. This leads to instability and a tendency to grow away from God when not doing "spiritual things". Young youth-groupers often have "life-changin" experiences in Haiti, only to come backand behave the same way they did before. Why? Because it reinforces the concept of church being "other" than every day life.

For the third-world churches, any kind of help is a blessing, but short-term missions may actually be counter-productive. In order to help a community, you really need to be considered a part of it. Outside help only encourages dependency on aid. A series of short-term teams may help the church look better aesthetically, but it does nothing to improve the church in the long term and may actually create more poverty though dependency. However, simply sending 5000 dollars to a long term missionary to help pay for the construction of the church would go much further. The money would be safe in the hands of a long-term missionary who speaks the language and knows the people and has become a part of their community. Instead of people from outside doing the work for free, local villagers could be hired to build the church, many of them would be desperate for work and a job that exposes them to Christ would be extremely beneficial.

Anyway, I had planned on my first post being about lapsarianism but this is what motivates me right now, so this is what my first post is on.

Doing Things Differently

So, I have been thinking lately ... how do I make this blog different from all the other Catholic blogs? We already have priests, lay men and women, professors, seminarians, and journalists among others. I'm just an ordinary person with an interest in theology particularly as it is connected to Scripture.

So, I got to thinking that in the spirit of Neuhaus and Colson, I would invite friends of mine from the other side of the divide, so to speak, to make contributions. The first contributing author is Stephen Hamilton, a member of Tenth Presbyterian in Philadelphia and a student at a New England college(so he can be closer to the Puritans, he says). Stephen and I are old friends, and have had many interesting conversations about our two different traditions: while I do not agree with his Calvinist theology, and he does not agree with my Catholic theology, we nevertheless have learned a lot from each other.

It goes without saying that even though he will be contributing that doesn't imply that he and I are in agreement on our posts. We agree to disagree (trite though that phrase is) in a spirit of Christian love. I think you will find his perspective interesting, and if this experiment works, then I might be inviting other guest authors from other traditions to also share their thoughts here.

Resurrection, Baptism and Theodicy

We might be forgiven for thinking that today is Easter. Each of the three readings for today mentions resurrection in some form or another. Ezekiel speaks of opening the graves, Paul speaks of the Spirit that raised Christ from the dead, and John narrates the raising of Lazarus. But upon closer inspection it becomes clear this is a different resurrection than the one in which we have hope.

This resurrection is the one for which ...
This resurrection is the one for which Judas Maccabeus prayed (2 Macc 12:42-46), and the one Martha mentions to Christ. It is the belief that those who died "in godliness," as 2 Macc puts it, would be brought back to this life. This is what Christ accomplishes in Lazarus; he is restored to this life. But it is not the same as the one Paul speaks of in 1 Cor 15:52ff. The Resurrection in which we have our hope is the raising of all who have fallen to face judgement. Those who died in the friendship of Christ will be "changed" clothed with light and given glorious bodies. But the important difference, other than the change, or indeed that is part and parcel of that change is the "immortality" that Paul speaks of. We aren't raised like Lazarus to go on living in this fallen world. But because of the Cross of Christ, we can be raised and live eternally with Christ in His heavenly Kingdom.

But since this resurrection is only one that brings people back to the life they lived it still leave us hungering for more. It is, as yet, incomplete. It is why these readings point us to Easter, which is now getting so close as to be palpable. These readings are a journey to Easter. This is why the Ezekiel reading is not just about resurrection, but the return of Israel into the land. We too are waiting to be restored, in a sense, by the Passion, Death and Resurrection. And this should give us tremendous hope. Because these readings tell is that we too are journeying to our own Resurrection. Christ did not rise from the dead selfishly. We too will also enjoy the bodily resurrection, and as I said, that is a cause of great hope.

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There is another sense to these readings that bears being mentioned. My Missal rightly points out that these readings are also catechetical. They teach us about baptism. It is why these pericopes are selected for the Scrutinies. Lent is generally a time to focus upon our Baptismal vows, but when we are welcoming new people into the Church, these pericopes become especially poignant. The story of Lazarus in particular is dramatic demonstration that "we were indeed buried with him through baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live in newness of life." (Rom 6:4). Lazarus dramatically demonstrates this in his life, death and return to life. His example serves a didactic purpose for us. That also means that the reading from Ezekiel has more than just an immediate meaning. In an immediate sense it is a prophecy directed to the Exiles. But in a wider sense it is a promise to us about our baptism. The "how" of this promise is then articulated in the Pauline pericope. It is by the power of the Holy Ghost that we are called and then incorporated into the Body of Christ by baptism. Thus it is with joy and great anticipation that we yearn to eat at the same table with the catechumens, which we will do on the Vigil of the Lord's Resurrection.

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I want to change tacks for a second, and reflect on the fact that from a certain point of view Christ can seem pretty monstrous in the Lazarus story. He knows ahead of time that His supposed friend will die. And yet, He lifts no finger to stave it off. As Martha asks, and skeptics like Dawkins and Hitchens ask, "how can a loving God let this happen? If He's so powerful and so good, why doesn't He just stop it?" The whole pericope is the response to this theodicy question as much as last week's pericope was.

Why did the man need to be born blind? Why did Christ need to let Lazarus die? It would be tempting to simply say so that Jesus could demonstrate powers and serve didactic purposes. But that's not really the case. Take the man born blind, if it was really simply to serve a didactic purpose or let Christ manifest some of His power then then story would have ended when the man was cured, and the lesson demonstrated. But the story goes on. It is the same reason the Lazarus pericope actually takes place before the washing of the feet pericope it mentions in the first few verses.

God permitted these things to happen because of two reasons, those things which He moved eternal to free ends have to remain free. And ... He nevertheless moves all things, free or otherwise, to Himself and to greater things. He takes all suffering and makes of it/them greater things beside. All the sin that Man visits upon his fellow in sometimes quite horrific fashion, Christ took upon Himself so that what could come after His Death and Resurrection was greater than anything that had gone before or since. If you took a hundred billion sufferings and poured them all into a container and compared it to the container that contained the fruits of the Passion, Death and Resurrection, you could not even see the container of the sufferings when held against the other, because the other is so much vaster than the sufferings.

Christ did what He did in both the case of the Man Born Blind and Lazarus to give greater glory to God and to use suffering to a greater purpose. If you could assign a numerical value to the suffering of the man born blind and the suffering caused by the death of Lazarus, what Christ did was greater by far and always is.

But the skeptics would still object, I am sure, that this still seems a cruel way for a loving God to behave. To which one points out that they are assessing "loving" based on their own human, finite experience. An infinite God with access to all possible worlds knows whether His staying His hand or His intervention is the "best" possible choice at any time. What we might perceive as a relief from suffering, might in the end be a greater cruelty still, because we cannot appreciate all the possible eventualities from that relief. But at the same time, it would be wrong to think of God as being only concerned with macro problems. Instead, He still takes notice of all His children individually, personally. How God deals with each person's sufferings is indeed a personal choice which must be viewed in the context of that individual relationship between Creator and Created.

For me, anyway, I draw great comfort from this.

A Question of Nature(s)

A friend asked me on another site:

Which reminds me, Oggerz -

I guess that's the hardest thing for me to grasp about the Trinity. There's a few sequences that seem to indicate a disconnect between the substance - will or knowledge of the Father and Son. Sometimes, upon further examination, there's a perfectly sensible reason ("Eloi Eloi lema sabachthani" being a reference to Psalm 22), but I haven't found one for the cup of suffering sequence ("nevertheless not what I will, but what thou wilt"), or the difference in knowledge between the Father and Son of the date or the end times, or "Why callest thou me good? there is none good but one, that is, God" from the story of the rich man.

I promised him a fuller answer ...
I promised him a fuller answer than the one I gave him, which for reference's sake is:

I think you must remember that Christ had two Natures that were neither co-mingled nor subordinated to the other. And yet, in the words of the Athanasian Creed "Equal to the Father as touching His Godhead, and inferior to the Father as touching His manhood." Once you appreciate that, and you begin to reflect on the rôle He was playing in Salvation History when He said those lines, I think it becomes clearer.

But perhaps that wasn't as clear as it could be, and so I will try to do a better job of explaining it. I also hope that some of my theological friends will help me out if I still seem to be lacking in the perspicacious department.

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One of the first things to remember is that there were numerous purposes to writing Scripture and numerous layers and levels in which to read it. My chief beef with Christians who believe that Scripture is perspicacious is that claiming it is so robs Scripture of much. If you read a Scriptural passage and come away thinking you understand it very well, you have missed something. Now, granted, some passages are clearer than others, and some are more opaque. Otherwise, why would Peter have observed "in [the writings of St Paul] there are some things hard to understand that the ignorant and unstable distort to their own destruction, just as they do the other scriptures"? (2 Pet 3:16) So this is the first lesson to keep in mind: Scripture is meant to be challenging and to challenge, but it isn't really supposed to be "clear."

So, I think I want to take some of these scenes independently before wrapping it up.

Let's take the introduction from Rich Man scene:

Matt 10
17 As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up, knelt down before him, and asked him, "Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?"18 Jesus answered him, "Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone.

If we read it carefully, we realise Jesus isn't denying He's God. Rather he senses that the rich man is calling Him good for other reasons. Rather than list all the possible ways, it should be clear rather from context that the man is trying to worship someone he fully believes to be a human like him. His kneeling down is a kind of attempt to flatter and honour someone in the way one ought to do so for God. Christ's rebuke of the man is therefore, pretty easy to grasp. We perceive it, removed from it as we are, as ironic. But I think the lesson for the man when it happened was more immediate: there's no need to flatter me, give due honour to God. Or you are right but for the wrong reasons. Was Christ being Kantian here, judging the man's intentions?

So that episode seems the least challenging to me on this subject. But what of the episode with the cup being taken away?

Mark 14
36 He said, "Abba, Father, all things are possible to you. Take this cup away from me, but not what I will but what you will."

The NAB has a note calling us to take heed of the complete surrender of Christ's Human will to the Divine Will of the Father. I think that's the answer to my friend's difficulty. Note that even as the thought ends, the two wills willing become one will willed. But there's more to this scene, too, and it's why I picked the Marcan version. Earlier in this Gospel, (10:38) Jesus makes reference to this cup. It will be a cup of baptism - his suffering on the cross will be His baptism, that washes away the stains of everyone else's guilt. But this cup, as understood from the OT, is one of punishment. Christ is also mentioning here His innocence. He is asking to be taken note of as the innocent lamb, who does not deserve death, but will do so "as the Father wills."

Similarly, I think there is much more going on in the "has not been revealed to the Son" episode:

Matthew 24
36 "But of that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father alone.

It is worth noting that many textual witnesses are divided as to whether "the Son" should be in this text. Mk 13:32 omits it. But let us suppose this quote is authentic, because I am certainly comfortable with that. Again, aside from the Human will versus the Divine will, I think something else is also going on here. Mark and Matthew present Christ differently for a reason. In Matthew Christ is the new Moses, the new Lawgiver. It is important in Matthew that none of the New Dispensation be "Man-made" so to speak. So, even the "hour" must be ascribed totally to the Divine will for Matthew. In Mark, the context is different, being more immediate and visceral. In Mark, Christ wants his disciples to be mindful (as does Matthew, to be sure), but Mark lacks Matthew's need to present Christ as a lawgiver. In Mark, Christ is the Messiah plain and simple. So to Mark, the Son's ignorance or lack thereof it not the point whatsoever, rather that the disciples must be mindful takes centre stage.

----

I hope that answers the question in greater depth than did my quick response to my friend. It is true that Scripture lacks the conciliar articulations of Christology. All of John wrestles with this right up until the end. It is in John we get "The Father and I are one," "Before Abraham was I AM" and the like. The other Evangelists have much different perspectives and much different "points" they're trying to make. If they intended to present discourses about Trinitarian beliefs, they likely would have all four of them written the Gospel of John. But they didn't, because they each had four very different things to say about Christ.

A Little Thomistic Humour

I really did find this quite funny. Enjoy.

The 5 Ways of Proving Santa Claus

Translation Note

I touched on this in my last post, but one of the interesting things that I usually note in any translation is how κεχαριτωμένη is often translated. It is hard to completely convey the sense of this word. It means to have grace entirely bestowed on someone. I think Jerome got it absolutely correct when he translated it gratia plena, full of grace. The sense that Mary is highly favoured is not incorrect. Clearly if someone is fully of grace, by definition they are highly favoured. But highly favoured does also somewhat miss the mark, because it misses the Spiritual aspect that is underpinning the scene.

Now this is important ...
Now this is important to me for a number of reasons. First, it helps me judge the quality of the translation in general, but letting me know what choices the translators have made. Second, it also lets me know if the translators are aware of and have taken note of the Spiritual Complexities in the text. And by this I mean that the text is not a novel or a news report. It also plays a significant didactic role. In this instance, even if you don't accept the Immaculate Conception, there is still an important point about grace itself the text is making. As I demonstrated before, there is a whole movement, like an orchestral piece that involves God, His gratuitous gift, Christ's Incarnation, Mary's free acceptance and so on. The κεχαριτωμένη is a vital link in that chain.

Now, whereas there are legitimate arguments on the side of "highly favoured," I do find the GNT's decision to translate it as "peace be with you" to be indefensible. Normally, I have very few beefs with the GNT. I have, in truth, a certain fondness for it, as it was the first "Catholic" Bible I encountered before and after conversion. So it does have a special place in my heart. Ordinarily, the translators of the GNT made choices to simplify the language without resorting to paraphrasing, so as they themselves explained, to make it easier for younger people and those who do not speak English as a first language to understand the text. And yes, I agree, the Bible in any language can be intimidating, much more so if you do not possess fluent command of the language in which it is written. But to me there is no defence at all for "peace be with you," because I do not see how "highly favoured" is not simple English, whereas "peace be with you" is completely wrong.

Unfortunately, that is the price we pay in any translation: none are perfect. Some are clearly better than others, but all fall short in one way or another.

-----

Now there is another level of importance to translation. It is important for us to be able to have a translation for personal reflection that ties us to the liturgy. And so this reminds me of an observation (in 2001) by Father Richard John Neuhaus:

At present, three translations are approved for Catholic liturgical use: the New Jerusalem, the RSV, and the New American Bible (NAB). The lectionaries and the several publishers of Mass guides, however, use only the NAB. It is, not to put too fine a point on it, a wretched translation. It succeeds in being, at the same time, loose, stilted, breezy, vulgar, opaque, and relentlessly averse to literary grace. The bishops had the NAB updated to the Revised New American Bible (RNAB), but Rome had objections to that and hurriedly appointed a committee to fix it up into what might be called the Amended Revised New American Bible (ARNAB), which will soon become mandatory in lectionary use. Technically, the RSV and New Jerusalem are still permitted but, with ARNAB as the mandatory translation of the future, nobody has any interest in printing lectionaries or Mass guides using those versions. There is the additional oddity that you cannot buy an ARNAB Bible, since only the pericopes (liturgical readings) exist in ARNAB-talk. So Catholics do not have a Bible for personal or group reading that uses the same text that they hear at Mass.

The matter of translation is therefore not trivial. Since we lack a good translation that corresponds to the liturgy, we are robbed of that experience. It would be nice to go home from Mass and read the wider context in the same language as the pericopes.

RJN favoured the RSV-CE, and it is a good one, although it too suffers defects. It, after all, is one of many that does not translate almah as parthenos. Ignatius Press may one day get their wish of being able to use their update of the RSV in liturgy (in the US), but either way we should pray that some good solution presents itself ere long.

Laetare, Light and the Annunciation

On another place, to which I might or might now link due to some unpleasantness, I described what Laetare and Gaudete Sundays were and why the rose coloured vestments were so appropriate. After delving into that briefly, I began to think more about it, and then to come to some interesting conclusions about "light." This in turn lead me to think about today in the calendar.


After that little introduction ...
After that little introduction I should first lay out the explication I gave on that other site:

Each of these Sundays is a hopeful reminder of the goal we're moving towards. They are to their Liturgical Seasons what the Transfiguration was to the Apostles, a foretaste of the Resurrection. So too the Rose vestments remind us "Hang in there, the great and wonderful thing we're moving towards is almost here! Rejoice! Be glad! Exult!" Because, these Seasons, without a Laetare or Gaudete can very much become the opposite of what we want to achieve. They can be overwhelming with our self-reflection, when we should be overjoyed at the great gift that was (in the case of Lent) Christ's sacrifice for our sins.

Now, the important thing to note about these two Sundays, and we'll just focus on Laetare going forward, is that they are like the Transfiguration in a sense. The Transfiguration gave the Apostles a foretaste of the Risen Lord by way of His Glorified Body. How particularly appropriate for Lent then is Laetare Sunday since it is precisely the Resurrection we're moving towards celebrating.

It is no surprise that of the three cycles' readings, the two that come from John make much of this concept of "light." In cycle A, which is also used whenever we welcome new brothers and sisters into the church, Christ declares in the story of the Man Born Blind that He is the Light of the World. In cycle B, Christ tells Nicodemus much the same thing. Indeed the word "φῶς" appears in the Gospel of John numerous time from beginning to end. The Gospel of John is suffused, in fact, with the light of Christ. That is why it is so apropos that we use John on Sundays like Laetare and extensively throughout the Easter Season. What I said in my previous Laetare post should come to mind: the Gospel of John is predominantly concerned with Christ's Divinity. Which is why it is so suffused with the Light of Christ.

----

Now, it was a convoluted line of thinking on my part, but I did begin to think a lot about the Light that came into Mary's life at the Annunciation. I think about this, because today we hear the reading as the Greek correctly states it. In order words, the greeting of the angel is "full of grace." Now, "highly favoured" and so on are not incorrect per se. The Greek means to have grace fully poured out into someone, but grace can also mean favour. I have always taken the position, much to my chagrin, that the translators want you to hear the word play with "you have found favour with God." But for today, the reading from the Gospel serves the purpose that I believe the text is actually saying. Mary was completely and irrevocably filled with grace.

Mother Theresa noted that Mary was full of grace just by carrying Christ in her womb. Christ's Incarnation after all is a grace. But it is more than this. When Gabriel came to her, she was already full of grace and the perfective was used to describe her. Her conception was a future tense at the precise moment of the Annunciation. The promise by the angel was already efficient, it was going to happen. And yet there is a sense that her "may it be done to me according to thy word" was not unnecessary.

Now, I see in this story numerous things. I see the grace of Christ's Incarnation. IN this whole tableau between angel and Virgin, Christ is ever at the centre. The whole narrative happened to give Him the glory. God's will, His desire to pick this poor Nazarene Virgin out of any others was irrefutable. Yet her free will was never diminished. God remained sovereign, but Mary remained free. As a Thomist, and especially as a Bañezian Thomist, I find a perfect example of how God can predestine things without overriding free will. In the beginning, He moved all determined things to their determined ends, and all free things to their free ends. This seems to me a perfect example of that very fact. God's will could not be undone here, and yet Mary clearly had a choice she freely made.

Now, a good Thomist (as I aspire to be) points out that the being full of grace made her completely free to make the right choice, that is, whatever is the will of God. Why? Because it healed her will. And in a way that was akin to, no indeed was the state of Original Justice (hence her conception most immaculate). The way St Thomas described this in the Summa was to say that God moves all things to Himself according to their natures and it is human nature to have free will; ergo, the freedom of Man's will is paradoxically used to move Man to predestined ends. It seems to me logically necessary, although I know others disagree, that Mary had to be completely healed so that her free-will could be in complete accord with God's in this matter. That might not get everyone all the way to the Immaculate Conception, but it goes a ways (and yes, I understand full well some of the immediate objections. Interestingly, St Thomas dealt with those too, but in different contexts).

And this brings me back to "light," the Light of God's grace, which heals, frees us and turns us to God. It is appropriate on these two days, Laetare and the Annunciation to give great joy for the bounty of God's grace, not least of which was His own Free Gift of Himself to us and for us.

Annunciation Teaser

I'll do something on the Annunciation later. But before that some conversations I have been having about Laetare need to crystalise into a blog post. Specifically, I'll talk about the connection between the lighter liturgical colour and the idea of "light" in the Johanine Gospel.

The man born blind

Today's Gospel reading was the man born blind (Jn 9:1-41), which for us is a rather long pericope. The usual practice is to butcher it down to something shorter. What it gains in brevity it lacks in perspicacity. As a result, I was overjoyed when Father read the entire pericope from start to finish, all forty one verses. His homily was also masterly. I agree with everything in it, but I did want to explore something he didn't mention.but I did want to explore something he didn't mention.

One of the things that strikes me most about the Johanine Gospel is that more than the Synoptics it is concerned with Christ's Divinity (but not at the expense of his Humanity). But what is also equally interesting is the way in which John explores this. Had he used explicit formulary means, we might not have needed the great Oecumenical Councils, but then much would be lost in the poetry of the text. Its simplicity is one of the main sources of its beauty.

But its ability to convey this message is not lessened by being more implicit. Indeed, more than the other Gospels, John isn't just Christological in some academic sense, it is Christological experientially. To put it another way, John doesn't so much as tell as he shows. The whole structure of the Gospel is meant to show us Christ and teach us about Him.

If we consider the greater structure of the Gospel, this will help serve as illustration. The Gospel, as we all know, famously begins with a hymn that lays out Christ's eternal Divinity, coequal with the Father. The hymn makes clear what Christ later states "the Father and I are one." Then the Gospel goes on to show this to us. Each episode teaches us one or more important aspects of Christ, building a puzzle piece by piece to illustrate carefully the point that Christ was fully Divine while being fully Man.

The baptism shows His relationship to the Trinity and also serves as a Prophetic and Royal anointing. The Wedding at Cana demonstrates His power over the created world. Nicodemus illustrates that Christ is a gratuitous grace of Love. The Samaritan Woman illustrates He is the Water of Eternal Life. The Sixth Chapter, which my friend Charlie masterly covered in his sermon for today, shows that Christ is the Bread of Life. (I am aware I am skipping some stories, but that is not because they do not illustrate the point, but because I don't want this to just become a laundry list of Johanine pericopes. Also it is meant to tie into the Liturgical readings of the Lenten season.) And this pericope that we read today signifies that Christ is the Light of the World.

And there's an interesting and almost paradoxical quality to this light. This light, which should illuminate everything, is also by so doing a source of dissension. Almost like (but not like) Plato's Cave, the officials in the story cannot appreciate the light, because they have too long spent their lives in darkness. This is ironically touched upon when they rebuke the man born blind for daring to teach them when he was born mired in sin. From our perspective we know in fact that they too were mired in sin from birth (as were we all).

Just as Lent points us to the Cross and through it to the Resurrection, so too these pericopes. It is why John is such an appropriate Gospel for Lent. Each pericope of the Gospel points to Christ's Divinity, but for a purpose. It isn't just meant to answer some proto-Docetists. It is meant instead to say "Ok, so He's God, why is that important?" It is what Paul tells us in his Doctoral Dissertation, his Epistle to the Romans. What John shows us is that Christ's Divinity was essential for the Cross to have any saving power. That's why I believe so much of the Gospel is actually taken up with Resurrection pericopes, such as the Doubting Thomas or Christ's Three-fold admonition to Peter. These pericopes that lead to the Cross and stem from the Resurrection have Salvation as their focal point.

Which is, after all, what we're supposed to be reflecting on this Lenten Season.

Anastasis

Remember me? Well, I was inspired to write this quick Scriptural observation after an online conversation with an acquaintance. We were discussing Chiliasm and my friend pointed out that it mentions "This is the first resurrection" (αυτη η αναστασις η πρωτη) (Apoc 20:5)

I was kinda struck by ...
I was kinda struck by anastasis (αναστασις) which we translate as resurrection, because it suddenly struck me that I have seen it before in a totally different context. I checked a Greek Concordance, and sure enough ...

και ευλογησεν αυτους συμεων και ειπεν προς μαριαμ την μητερα αυτου ιδου ουτος κειται εις πτωσιν και αναστασιν πολλων εν τω ισραηλ και εις σημειον αντιλεγομενον (Luke 2:34)

and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, "Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted (Ibid. NAB Trans)

There it is in inflected form. That's Simeon's Prophecy. The anastasin of the quote is in the phrase "a fall and rising" of many.

Standard commentaries always speak of tumults because of the Word or the Way. I agree with those, to an extent. But I began to think of this in a new way after my discussion today. I am struck by the order of falling and rising. When I harken back to Romans 6:1-11, I become convinced that this is on purpose. Man has fallen to sin, but because of the Cross (the sign of contradiction that Simeon refers to at the end of the passage) Man may rise again with Christ in new life.

Something to think about.

UPDATE - A friend of mine has proposed an alternate definition for the First Resurrection: Faith. He offers Eph 2:1-10 for reference.

Still Alive

In the event anyone was wondering, I am still alive, but work and other ventures have kept me too busy to update this with the kind of frequency I would have liked. I promise to resume soon.

Divine Grammar

Now that I have been "noticed" I feel a certain liberating permission to blog on. I feel almost like my Lutheran days, blogging boldly! All right, Ogden, let's not let this get to our head, shall we?

In my "managed posts" section I have had a saved draft for ages called "Divine Grammar." This was something that occurred to me during the readings of the Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time. Specifically, a much feared reading from Ephesians.

Well, I don't fear it, and instead ...
Well, I don't fear it, and instead I am going to proclaim what I think has been centrally missed during all the fretting. The Disputations Inspiration is prodding me to finish and post this, late though it is.

Now, by this point you're wondering what I am talking about, don't you? I am talking about the "wives be subordinate to your husbands" verses, Ephesians 5:21-32

The main charge against this passage, and what tends to embarrass our High, Enlightened sensibilities (the same sensibilities that have given a green light to abortion and the "contraceptive mentality", mind you) is that it appears to be unequal at best, misogynistic at worst.

My argument? It is neither. My argument is that since these Grand Statements have two different subjects, in the Divine Grammar, the "verbs" must be different, so that there is just agreement between the verb and the subject, just as in Human Grammar. The different subjects may have different verbs, but the action being asked of them is the same. They are both asked to imitate Christ.

Consider ... Since the Apostle began with the wife, I will begin with her. She is being asked to imitate Christ's fathomless Love, by emptying herself before her husband, as Christ did. Why? So that she can save her husband, as Christ saved Humanity. Consider Philippians:

Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness; and found human in appearance, he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross.

Total self-denial for the salvation of others. It is what Christ did for us, and it is what wives are called to do for their husbands.

But the husband too is asked to do the same thing. He is asked to love the wife as Christ loves the Church. And how did Christ love the Church? By suffering even death on a cross for the salvation of her members. How can the husband do so? By patient sacrifice out of love, working for her salvation.

Both, therefore, are being asked to do the same thing: save each others souls. But women and men are different, masculine and feminine in the Divine Grammar. Thus, in order to make the Divine Sentences "work" the subjects and verbs must agree, although the end is precisely the same. Husbands and wives must sacrifice in self-denial for the salvation of their spouses.

So this is why the "short form" make me cringe. We have become squeamish about the "wives be subordinate" part. We ought to rather proclaim it proudly, sloughing off this cowardice. There is something to fear in this? How can there be? When seen properly, it can only be celebrated.

This also reminds me to do a piece that has been running around in my head about "close readings" and why they are so desperately needed in regards to the Holy Scripture.

I will let the Apostle have the last word, "Woman is not independent of man or man of woman in the Lord."

Trying to Out-Do Disputations

One of the blogs I enjoy reading is Disputations, where the blogger-author gives (among other things) his reflections and thoughts on Scripture as they appear in the Mass readings (or what have you).

His views and ideas are always provocative. I find I learn a very great deal simply reading them, although I do not necessarily always agree. Usually it's little words or grammatical points that attract his attention, and almost always from the NAB translation.


To that end, one thing struck me ...
To that end, one thing struck me in the reading from James today. James 5:4 in the NAB reads as follows:

Behold, the wages you withheld from the workers who harvested your fields are crying aloud, and the cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord of hosts.

(Emphasis mine)

You see what's being modified here, don't you? The wages themselves are crying aloud. The RSV agrees with this:

Behold, the wages of the laborers who mowed your fields, which you kept back by fraud, cry out; and the cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord of hosts.

As does the New Vulgate (all emphases in the following quotes will be mine):

Ecce merces operariorum, qui messuerunt regiones vestras, quae fraudata est a vobis, clamat, et clamores eorum, qui messuerunt, in aures Domini Sabaoth introierunt.

And the old:

ecce merces operariorum qui messuerunt regiones vestras qui fraudatus est a vobis clamat et clamor ipsorum in aures Domini Sabaoth introiit

(I could do a whole blog post just on the differences between the old and the new in just this verse, but I won't ... not tonight. You'll notice the RSV more closely follows the Latin. If I need to convince people that this is in the Greek, too, I can quote that as well:

ἰδοὺ ὁ μισθὸς τῶν ἐργατῶν τῶν ἀμησάντων τὰς χώρας ὑμῶν ὁ ἀφυστερημένος ἀφ' ὑμῶν κράζει, καὶ αἱ βοαὶ τῶν θερισάντων εἰς τὰ ὦτα Κυρίου Σαβαὼθ εἰσελήλυθαν:

Now that is out of the way ... What does it mean? The wages themselves are crying out ... This reminds of the sins that cry out to Heaven. I couldn't remember the last one of the top of my head. For shame, Ogden! So, I looked it up in the Catechism, and lo and behold ...

1867 The catechetical tradition also recalls that there are "sins that cry to heaven": the blood of Abel, the sin of the Sodomites, the cry of the people oppressed in Egypt, the cry of the foreigner, the widow, and the orphan, injustice to the wage earner.

(Emphasis mine)

And there's even a footnote, "Cf. Deut 24:14-15; Jas 5:4.." (The emphasis is mine.)

So, this passage, and the Church, appear to be telling us that the sin itself had a kind of triggered response. If you engage in practice X the sin itself will "cry out" to God in a voice only He can hear.

But is it being figurative? Is it being literal? I suppose in a very real sense, it's both. The Living God in His Foresight, has known these sins would take place (and when, and how often, and by whom, etc) throughout all Eternity. Consequently, He has also known they would Offend his Infinite Justice. And in that sense, that knowledge in the mind of the Sublime is the actual "crying out." Because these deeds so offend against His Will that they are like the proverbial fingernails on chalkboard. Although He never fails to take note of anything, these things He takes note of in a very special way.

Just as this strange construction took me by surprise, I believe the Apostle intends the same thing for the "wealthy" whom he is castigating. Just as the implications awe and terrify me, I believe the Apostle intends the same reaction on the part of those whom he warns.

In any case, I welcome any thoughts on this anyone might have, and I hope to have done some justice to the methodology of the aforementioned blog.

UPDATE: As you can see from the links section below, the "aforementioned blog" has taken note of my little post. I am pleased as punch, but more importantly I learned something new from his take. I like the image. It puts me in a mind to say that if we could see excess wealth with the same perspective the Sublime has, we would be like those who could see their own lungs tainted by tobacco smoke. But by the same token, would they who have grown addicted to wealth, even if they could see it for the danger it is, give it up?