Recently in Theology Category

Preface: Charlie, my 5.5-year-old son, is fascinated with "Spider-Man," though of course we won't let him see either of the movies (not because they're bad -- we own them both -- but because he's way too young.) The following is an actual conversation about "Spider-Man 2":

Charlie: Daddy, does Dr. Octopus die in the end?

Me: Yes, he does.

C: How come?

M: He drags his science experiment into the river so it won't blow up and hurt lots of people.

C: Why did he die?

M: Because that was the only way to stop the experiment.

C: I thought he was bad.

M: Yeah, but he turned good at the very end and decided to save all those people.

C: [thinks a moment] I guess Dr. Octopus had to spend a lot of time in inventory.

M: In what?

C: Inventory.

M: What are you talking about?

C: You know, the place where Jesus fixes you before you go to heaven.

M: Oh, you mean purgatory.

C: Yeah, purgatory.

M: Right, Dr. Octopus would probably have to go there.

"It is not only bishops, presbyters, deacons and even those who govern monasteries who are to be understood to be pastors; but also all the faithful who keep watch over the little ones of their house, are properly called pastors."

Theology being the study of God, do Muslims have any sort of theology given that they believe God is unknowable and inscrutable? Do they then, have only exegesis of the Koran and not actual theology?

Ken Shepherd is one of our frequent commenters, and I have appreciated his comments on these pages (especially on the Clowning for Christ discussion thread.) In response to RC's entry about the pope retiring, Ken says, "I'm just a Protestant with a strong penchant for sola scriptura."

Before I continue, I'll say that some of my best friends are Protestants, as are practically all of my relatives by blood and marriage. I don't mean to single you out, Ken, and I'll delete this post if this is embarrassing. But since I suspect you won't mind, I'll ask you this: where in the Bible do you find sola scriptura?

I tried to find it, and was unsuccessful; that's one reason I left Protestantism for Catholicism. You say, "Traditions are fine and good if they are based solidly on Scripture and are in accordance with the move of the Spirit in the Church." That leads to a few more questions, like...

1. How do you know what is scripture, and what isn't?
2. How does one determine an authentic "move of the Spirit," as opposed to a move of the devil masquerading as the Spirit?
3. Who can authoritatively answer questions #1 and #2?

Again, this isn't to attack you or anything. It's one of those perennial questions, and it's well worth discussing.

After spending a lot of time reading through the Navarre Gospels, I've decided to step back in time to the Old Testament. Specifically, I want to learn more about the prophets and the psalms. One thing that's always struck me about the latter is that they are impossible to reconcile with the squishy, saccharine God of the Suburbs. (Who is a false image, an idol deserving to be smashed.)

The smug bumper sticker that says, "God is too big to fit into one religion" is true if they're talking about the anorexic, consumerist version of religion that passes for Christianity in far too many American churches. The God of the psalms is shown in his plenary nature, and is too big for an emaciated religion. The psalmist regards each aspect of the deity with love one moment, fear the next; he cries out for mercy because of his sinfulness in one psalm, then begs God for his enemies' destruction in another. The hearts of the lion and the lamb truly dwell within this eclectic collection of songs.

CL co-founder Steve Schultz and I had a good time today attending a symposium at his seminary in Philadelphia. The moral teaching of Pope John Paul was the theme, and it's fair to say the highlight...

Everyone has a besetting sin, or at least everybody I know. For you non-Catholics and under-catechized Catholics out there, a besetting sin is the one that keeps cropping up in your spiritual life, no matter how hard you try to eradicate it. It can also keep you from growing in virtue, and quite often, it drives other forms of sins that might not even be related. For instance, if you gamble excessively, you might begin to steal to support your habit.

My besetting sin is sloth. Considering that I'm usually quite busy, what with work and three kids and a wife and the house and all, it surprised me to realize that. I often allow myself to be distracted by other things when I need to do something difficult, and the time I take away from my duties is spent on trivial things (as evidenced by the fact that I am typing this at my place of employment. Hey, consider it a coffee break.)

The small things I do might be harmless in themselves, but the results of my self-indulgence tend to snowball. If I stay up late because I've been piddling around, I can be more anger-prone the next day, or I might not be as productive at work. Sloth steals precious time that would be better spent praying or talking to my wife.

What's your besetting sin? Did someone else tell you about it, like a confessor or spiritual advisor? Or did you, like me, read something that made you realize what it is?

(How's that for something Catholic, John Francis?)

Can children under the age of reason commit venial sins? From my external observation, I think they can. I can think of several cases where my daughter and older son have known what was the right thing to do, and deliberately chosen not to do it. Also, when my wife and I discipline them, I don't get the idea that we're disciplining mere jumbles of instincts and passions, but that their intellects and wills are thrown into the mix.

So while I have no trouble believing that small children can't commit mortal sins because they are incapable of full, rational choice, I would think they could commit venial sins. Anybody have an answer for me?

My daughter, Anna, is three years old, and has the personality of an exceptionally curious, willful puppy. Last night, I had to reprimand her for disobeying -- a common occurence -- and she said through her tears, "Daddy, do you love me even when I'm fussy?"

Before I gave the standard reply ("I always love you, no matter what") my older son Charlie piped up: "Yes, he loves you, Anna, he just doesn't like the fussy!"

I don't want to read too much into a 4-year-old's comment, but it's delightful to see a small child grasp the idea that you can love people without approving of all of their actions. Yet how many adults argue that unless we approve of their vices, we are unloving bigots? Sometimes, kids really are wiser than adults, or at least they see things more clearly.

Grovel Week has arrived on PBS, and they're begging us for money to keep their Very Special Programs on the air. Lord knows we watch a lot of public broadcasting in our house, but it's limited to fare like Clifford the Big Red Dog. I don't feel guilty about watching their shows and not paying for them, because we gave at the office -- the tax office, that is. On average, tax-paying households "donate" $6.40 to the IRS every year for PBS funding, and in gratitude for your cooperation, the congenial folks at the IRS refrain from confiscating your home, freezing your bank accounts, or throwing you in jail.

Quick "Simpsons" moment:

Marge: What are you gonna spend your money on, kids?

Bart: There's a special down at the Tacomat: a hundred tacos for a hundred dollars. I'm gonna get that.

Lisa: I'm going to contribute my money to the Corporation for Public Broadcasting.

Marge: Tacos? Public broadcasting? I will not have either of you waste your money.

To convince recalcitrant viewers to cough up more clams, PBS re-ran "The Power of Myth," a conversation between LBJ advisor Bill Moyers and Professor Joseph Campbell of Sarah Lawrence College. They filmed the six episodes of the series back in 1987, so this is probably a re-re-re-re-re-re-rerun at least....