Any good news you want to share?

I would like to hear it.

In the past 36 hours, a family friend threw his son out of the house because of political conflicts, and another friend lost his 23 year old son to a seizure. 

Life is too damn short, and we are not promised tomorrow. 

And the news daily confirms that the massive, lowering thunderheads on the horizon are crawling ever closer.

Yes, we have a roof over our heads, income, food, vehicles that...work well enough. And my middle son's team is in the 12-U Little League championship game tomorrow. My eldest is getting regular hours at her job, and my eldest son is tackling chemistry. We have our problems, but we're alive. 

I guess I'm just in one of those Matthew 24:37-39 moods.

Wisdom--for individuals and nations.

Do not disregard the discourse of the aged, for they themselves learned from their fathers;

because from them you will gain understanding, and learn how to give an answer in the time of need.

--Sirach 8:9.

"What are you reading?" you didn't ask.

So I'll tell you anyway:

Lots. 

I have taken a shine to the writings of Saint Bonaventure, the Seraphic Doctor of the Franciscans.

A contemporary of Saint Thomas Aquinas, he has dwelt in the shadow of the Angelic Doctor for centuries. 

I think this is largely for two reasons: 

(1) Saint Thomas is more accessible, especially in the Summa Theologiae. The premise-objection-reply format lends itself more rapidly to assimilation by the reader. Saint Bonaventure sometimes uses the same approach, but more frequently he does not. And while his prose is accessible (certainly compared to Bl. Duns Scotus), his writing is loaded with seemingly-simple terms which presume a grounding in scholastic language which Thomas' does not.

This is not the case with his mystical writing, which is more accessible. 

Nevertheless, Bonaventure rewards multiple readings. 

(2) The second reason he was overshadowed is that, in many ways, he is the more "conservative" of the two men, souring considerably on Aristotle near the end of his life. While Bonaventure did not entirely abandon Aristotleian reason, he was much more skeptical about it than Thomas, and saw it as largely corrosive.

For Bonaventure, revelation always came first, and revelation demonstrated the limits of human intellect. The goal of true philosophy is to find one's way back to God, and the Scriptures point the way. Reason itself points the way to theology.

 The Franciscans always kept his torch lit, and the completion of the "Quarrachi Edition" of his complete works in the late 19th Century helped re-ignite wider interest. And a certain emeritus pontiff was a huge fan of Bonaventure's works. Most of it is still not in print in English, but the Franciscan Institute has a solid list of his works available in English translation. Alas, they are not shipping at the moment, but should be up and running later.

The second item in heavy rotation is the Book of Sirach. Written during a time of turmoil for the Jewish people, the timeless wisdom is especially apt for our times. And the foreshadowing of certain of Christ's teachings is notable, which should not

surprise.

Here--have some peonies.

The one constant between the two historical residences of the Metro Detroit Price family is a yearly crop of peonies.

We planted neither set--the previous owners did.

But their trumpet blast arrival every May-June is a natural rite I have come to look forward to. These are a little past peak, but I am still happy to see them.

The white peonies have yet to bloom, but they look good for this week.

Nature cares nothing for the travails or strife of men.

But there is One who does:

If then you are not able to do as small a thing as that, why are you anxious about the rest? Consider the lilies, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass which is alive in the field today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, O men of little faith!

Bible Verse of the Month.

"O Timothy, keep that which is committed to thy trust, avoiding the profane novelties of words, and oppositions of knowledge falsely so called."

--First Letter of St. Paul to Timothy, Chapter 6, Verse 20, Douay-Rheims Edition.


[Helpful Editorial Note: This is the first in what I hope to be a series, using various translations of verses that strike my fancy. By and large, I'm going to be using older translations. 

As I explained to a friend once, my main problem with modern translations is that they sound too much like an interoffice memo, with God not asking us to repent so much as to always use the new cover sheets for the TPS reports.

Mm, yeah--that would be great.]

Regarding the "older brother" argument.

John Allen spends some time here examining the so-called "older brother" reaction to the Pope's barbs.

Well, the thing is, the analogy doesn't fit, at least not as far as the father's reaction is chronicled in the parable:

And he said to him, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has received him safe and sound.’ 28 But he was angry and refused to go in. His father came out and entreated him, 29 but he answered his father, ‘Lo, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command; yet you never gave me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your living with harlots, you killed for him the fatted calf!’ 31 And he said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. 32 It was fitting to make merry and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.’

The thing is, the cumulative effect of the Pope's words on the so-called "older brothers" is not "Son, all I have is yours--celebrate with me over the return of your brother!"

Instead, it comes across as "Well, pal, the thing is, I don't even like you. Do you want to know why? Tough--I'm going to tell you anyway. I have the list right here. Number 1..."

So, yeah, if all analogies limp, this one is a double amputee.

Kneel Before Zod.

Brant Pitre's new book about the Jewish roots of the Eucharist has received the sniffy treatment in the National Catholic Reporter, in the form of a largely dismissive review, quelle suprise. The Rev. Richard T. Lawrence has determined that while it nicely points out that Jewish stuff, Pitre is a sinner who must wear the scarlet "U" for "Unscholarly."

Well, allow me to retort, starting off with a couple of seemingly unrelated quotes.

"[T]ruth to tell, the contributions of critical biblical scholarship either to real history or to authentic theology have not up to now been particularly impressive and have certainly not had the character of transmitting faith to succeeding generations."

--Luke Timothy Johnson.

"I'd rather push a Chevy than drive a Ford."

--Popular bumpersticker on Chevy trucks.

Alas, I had some hope early on that this might be a fair-minded review, but that was dashed at word five, when Rev. Lawrence cued the "boo, hiss" sign for Reporter readers by identifying Pitre as one of those "conservatives."

Frankly, the criticisms Pitre's work begin with the exceptionally petty, starting with Rev. Lawrence's profound disquiet with the accurate quoting of Dei Verbum, followed by the pointless nit-picking about "Jesus of Nazareth" and plummeting downhill from there.

Frankly, if the Catholic biblical academy is as monochrome, dogmatic and lockstep as the Rev. Lawrence claims, then this review can be safely written off as a defensive clerical back-raising, equivalent to my cat hissing at the strange felines who dare walk across *his* lawn. Certainly, the sniffing about the alleged distinction between proper scholarly methods of systematic theologians and those of biblical scholars has more than a whiff of feline cattiness about it. Leaving aside the more important point that it is a meaningless bit of inside baseball as far as the wider Church is concerned.

But the real gripe is that Pitre dares to partially reject the results and methods of his elders. If the functional motto of the biblical guild is "freedom of scholarship for me but not thee," (and the defensiveness of the review suggests that it may be) then the sooner we get more lay scholars like Pitre to infuse the clerical guild with new blood, the better. For both parties. It's difficult to know what to make of a group of scholars that expects newbies to genuflect before findings which are always supposed to be open to revision. In other words, let's jettison the uncritical attitude toward historical criticism, please. For the Rev. Lawrence to insist that biblical scholarship which doesn't uncritically parrot every hypothesis beloved of a certain section of the academy is deficient is...odd. Especially if scholarship is supposed to be open to revision. Otherwise, he has the same mindset as the Chevy driver with the bumpersticker quoted above. Which is fine, but is a matter of de gustibus, not doctrine.

Besides, all right-thinking folk know Fords are way better.

Finally, I've often wondered how a hack novelist like Dan Brown, one whose research skills wouldn't pass muster at Wikipedia, could come up with gob-smacking howlers like "Jesus was a human being who was declared God at the Council of Nicaea."

Then I read paragraphs like this:

"To cite but one example, after taking as literal quotations Jesus’ words as reported in John 6, 8 and 10 and related texts, Pitre concludes that one cannot understand Jesus’ claims about the Eucharist “without first grasping his claims about his divine identity.” He even quotes C.S. Lewis’ statement that such words are those of a madman, a demon or the Lord himself. Surely all orthodox Christians believe that Jesus is, as the councils confessed, the Incarnate Word of God.

But to state without qualification that Jesus, during his lifetime on Earth, thought and spoke of himself in that way is far from the consensus of modern scripture scholars and theologians. I would think that a book intended for a popular audience would take some note of that fact."

So, according to the "assured results of biblical scholarship," Brown's got a point? Well, no, he doesn't. N.T. Wright, the Anglican biblicist par excellence, has written convincingly of how Jesus could have expressed himself in divine terms in a thoroughly Jewish milieu.

Oh, and wait a minute--who's mixing up scripture scholarship with theology again? Tsk, tsk.

But still, it's grimly funny that the nuttiness of Dan Brown finds fertile soil in the wasteland of endemic doubt that constitutes too much of modern biblical study. That this no-man's land was created by in part by Catholics who, with unimpeachable sincerity, declare themselves orthodox Christians just adds to the wan hilarity.

I for one have done my part to encourage Pitre to write more by purchasing the book for my wife.

Mad busy.

Which, given the post immediately beneath this one, is a good thing.

Nevertheless, I'd be remiss if I didn't note the unveiling of yet another joint blog I'm joining,

"Almost Chosen People." It covers the history of America from the first explorers to the end of Reconstruction, featuring such knowledgable bloggers as Donald McClarey and Paul Zummo.

Tolle, lege.

Oh, and I'm going to slightly amend my review of The Sword of the Lady: God used astrology to achieve his purposes, so that gives some wiggle room to the visions vouchsafed to Rudi. Feel free to discuss, as well as to set forth what you did and did not like about the book, per the author's express encouragement.

"Make sure you're not bashing Muslims. Never say Muslims are evil. They're just like you and me."

So speaks Jay Smith, an English Christian who routinely debates Muslims in Hyde Park and elsewhere.

Western seminaries taught Smith "friendship evangelism" as the primary way to share Christ with Muslims. Nothing should offend. Never point out contradictions, inconsistencies, or historical inaccuracies in another person's religious beliefs. Everything aims to convert. Judge results by the number of conversions.

Smith decided to take an alternate approach:

Defend historic, orthodox Christianity.

Answer untruths that Islam proclaims about the Bible, Jesus, and Christians.

Hold Islam itself accountable for the actions of its followers.

"We have to start taking Christ back to his Mediterranean roots," says Smith. "True love confronts friends when they go wrong. Paul certainly argued. Jesus certainly argued. That's the kind of love Muslims need to hear.

"Propositional truth confronts," he argues, in fundamentalist fashion. "If there's not a reaction, we're not preaching the gospel."

In most Muslim-Christian dialogue, Smith believes Christians typically concede on points of orthodox doctrine to make the faith palatable to Muslims. Smith asks: Why should Muslims respect any Christian who distances himself from what he claims to believe?

Read the whole thing.

Parable Meme!

Theocoid tagged me with "Your five favorite parables."

About a month ago--oops. Sorry.

Here goes, my favorite parables from Jesus:

1. The Good Samaritan. Always a handy conscience check.

2. The Unjust Judge. Go ahead--pester God. He can take it.

3. The Lost Sheep. I need that image of God, thanks.

4. The Unjust Steward. Or, Sometimes, Jesus Just Likes Messing With Your Head.

5. The Prodigal Son. See Lost Sheep, The.

Tag: Catherine, Jeffrey, Steve, and Pansy and Peony.

No, I came here for an argument.

If you'd care to see me apologetic-ing, I did so over at Hot Air earlier this week. I got into a wrangle with a Protestant brother/sister arguing that the Bible doesn't have a Gospel According to Gordon Gekko. This was in relation to the misreported story about the Vatican allegedly whipping up some"new sins," amongst which is "excessive wealth."

I argued that the Bible is replete with warnings to rich folk, and that scripture never portrays wealth as neutral, in fact only approving it where the person in question is already regarded as righteous.

I think I did well, but I'll leave that up to you. If nothing else, I'm left with the distinct impression that the prosperity "gospel" has disturbingly long tentacles.

Madeleine Price, iconoclast.

We were having Maddie's religion class this evening and I was explaining the importance of the Bible, how God inspired its books, the varied types of subject matter and so forth.

Heather, bemused, chipped in: "And how many Bibles do we have here in the house?"

Before I could say anything, Maddie jumped in:

"We're Catholic: we're supposed to have a lot of Bibles."

That's my girl!

Blame Canada.

The whiny Canucks wear out Rome and get the right to use the dread NRSV as their lectionary. It's a time-honored tactic, and why not? It works.

Take note, fellow orthodox: tick-on-a-dog's-ass tenacity pays dividends.

All of this is being done to placate a tiny elite group of people whose second generation will sleep in on Sundays anyway.

The slight (think tick) good news? We can change it when they're gone. Good news part two: "With most of its inclusive language intact." "Most"?

Best piece of good news? I don't live in Canada and don't have to go to church there to listen to the cack-handed translation.

But for the most part, this decision is absolutely horrid. Not to mention mind-boggling. How on earth is this squared with Liturgiam Authenticam? For all of the banalities/general clunkiness in the NAB, and the half-hearted throw at inclusive language in the RNAB, it wasn’t an ideologically-driven project from the start.

Others in Fr. Zuhlsdorf's combox do a good job of showing the fatal problems with the NRSV (especially Kevin Edgecomb), but I’ll add the most infuriating from my perspective: the rendering of Daniel 7:13, which turns the crucial "son of Man" passage into "I saw one like a human being coming with the clouds of heaven…"

Nice. No, that "Son of Man" phrase isn't important at all. No, sir--er, ma'am--er, Ms.--er, M. Combine that with the nuking of the christological signals in the Psalms, and the NRSV does a better job of severing Christ from the Old Testament than Marcion.

And this will definitely be an encouragement for the Ministry of Inclusivity types here in the US. An amazingly bad decision.

The unasked-for return of Liturgical Lorena and her Shears of Sensitivity.

Mass at our parish is cause for little concern. Our parish priest and the men who occasionally fill in for him stick to the rubrics. Their approach to Mass is respectful and in an inadequate word, "workmanlike." The music is not all I would like in terms of selection, but it is performed well by solid musicians.

Of late, the irritation I've had has come from the pewfolk and "worship aids", not from the priest/cantor end.

Yesterday was a perfect storm of crapitude in this department.

The problem started with the OCP Breaking Bread/Gather missalette. I've noted this before, and the problem continues: somebody at OCP has a thong in a twist about calling God the Father God the Father. That's been holding true as long as I've noticed it: the two line introductions to the readings steadfastly refuse to use "he/his/him" when describing God. ICEL got called out on the carpet when it tried this rubbish with its joke of a psalter, but apparently someone at OCP remains inspired by that example. They'll have their great big Hermaphrodite in the Sky, and you'll like it. If nothing else, it shows once again it takes a rare talent to not be awarded an imprimatur these days.

With the New Testament readings and references to Jesus, even Lorena runs into a thus-far insurmountable obstacle, but no doubt she's still trying.

The problems started with the reading in Colossians, which OCP Lorena, genuflecting before the "assured results of critical scholarship," referred to "the author of Colossians," not Paul. I'm of the opinion that discussion of authorship hypotheses has no business being in the liturgy. Ditto any kind of reference to hot-button issues of critical scholarship. Frankly, the people who do this (1) invariably have an agenda at odds with the faith, and (2) invariably suck at presenting the info, offering it as magisterial when it is provisional. At its root, it is pointless preening that adds nothing to the liturgy. Just stop it.

That was relatively minor next to the lead in to the Gospel, which dealt with the Our Father in Luke. Surely the intro was going to have to cave and refer to the Almighty as "Father," right?Well, Sophia bless her, Lorena was remarkably inventive this week. In this reading, "Jesus gave us the 'Abba' Prayer."

Snip-snip.

Right on cue after reading that, I started hearing in my head:

If you change your mind/
I'm the first in line/
Honey I'm still free/
Take a chance on me...

Yep-per. God have mercy.

Yes, I know: "abba" is the Aramaic for "father." But it's only used in Mark (which does not record the Our Father) and by the author of Romans and Galatians. Nope--no agenda there.

The piece-de-resistance: Lorena possessed some woman during the responses of the liturgy, calling out "it is right to give 'God' thanks and praise," in a modest bullhorn voice not at all calculated to strike a blow at the patriarchy, no ma'am.

Is it too much to ask that those who have neuroses about the fatherhood of God do so silently? Apparently so.

Memo to self: Versed-firing dart pistols--get to work ASAP.

The good news: the visiting priest had a good homily about the privilege of being able to call God "Father." Hopefully that drowned out the rest.

That's right.

Crossan was the one who said Jesus' body was probably eaten by dogs or crows. You'd have thought that he might have objected thusly in the interview. Perhaps he did, but I have yet to see him quoted as protesting Jim Cameron's cavalcade of whimsy.





"By the end of the evening, I hope that you, too, will embrace the good news of following an obscure taciturn sorta-but-not-too-Jewish cynic peasant sage who somehow crossed (rimshot!) the Romans and ended up as animal waste products despite the fact that one of the few sayings in the "canonical gospels" that is accurate is "Render Unto Caesar." Not that it will get you tenure and regular TV spots come Lent, but no one ever said life was fair."

Happy Hanukkah to our Jewish friends and neighbors!



Interestingly enough, the festival is not recorded in Hebrew Bibles (which is no big deal, of course). For the curious, though, the holiday's origin is located in Catholic and Orthodox Old Testaments. The most detailed account is in 1 Maccabees 4 (an unjustly neglected book even by those who venerate it as inspired). Starting at verse 36:

36
Then Judas and his brothers said, "Now that our enemies have been crushed, let us go up to purify the sanctuary and rededicate it."
37
So the whole army assembled, and went up to Mount Zion.
38
They found the sanctuary desolate, the altar desecrated, the gates burnt, weeds growing in the courts as in a forest or on some mountain, and the priests' chambers demolished.
39
Then they tore their clothes and made great lamentation; they sprinkled their heads with ashes
40
and fell with their faces to the ground. And when the signal was given with trumpets, they cried out to Heaven.
41
Judas appointed men to attack those in the citadel, while he purified the sanctuary.
42
He chose blameless priests, devoted to the law;
43
these purified the sanctuary and carried away the stones of the Abomination to an unclean place.
44
They deliberated what ought to be done with the altar of holocausts that had been desecrated.
45
The happy thought came to them to tear it down, lest it be a lasting shame to them that the Gentiles had defiled it; so they tore down the altar.
46
They stored the stones in a suitable place on the temple hill, until a prophet should come and decide what to do with them.
47
Then they took uncut stones, according to the law, and built a new altar like the former one.
48
They also repaired the sanctuary and the interior of the temple and purified the courts.
49
They made new sacred vessels and brought the lampstand, the altar of incense, and the table into the temple.
50
Then they burned incense on the altar and lighted the lamps on the lampstand, and these illuminated the temple.
51
They also put loaves on the table and hung up curtains. Thus they finished all the work they had undertaken.
52
Early in the morning on the twenty-fifth day of the ninth month, that is, the month of Chislev, in the year one hundred and forty-eight,
53
they arose and offered sacrifice according to the law on the new altar of holocausts that they had made.
54
On the anniversary of the day on which the Gentiles had defiled it, on that very day it was reconsecrated with songs, harps, flutes, and cymbals.
55
All the people prostrated themselves and adored and praised Heaven, who had given them success.
56
For eight days they celebrated the dedication of the altar and joyfully offered holocausts and sacrifices of deliverance and praise.
57
They ornamented the facade of the temple with gold crowns and shields; they repaired the gates and the priests' chambers and furnished them with doors.
58
There was great joy among the people now that the disgrace of the Gentiles was removed.
59
Then Judas and his brothers and the entire congregation of Israel decreed that the days of the dedication of the altar should be observed with joy and gladness on the anniversary every year for eight days, from the twenty-fifth day of the month Chislev.

Enjoy those eight crazy nights!

Always call retreat.

I hate--hate--HATE introductions to the Sunday readings. The only place I have ever heard them is in--wait for it--the Diocese of Saginaw. Ham-handed displays of quasi-scholarship, none of which seems to have gotten past circa AD 1981 (see also the introductions and footnotes to the various iterations of the NAB), they are the usual histo-crit article. Heather says they invariably make her feel talked down to, as though she is unable to get anything from the reading without being sufficiently innoculated by the intro first.

My personal peeve is that they give the listener (far too many of whom are the clueless victims of the same catechetical system that gives us the Dan Brown Fan Club) every reason to tune the reading out, if not dismiss it outright.

For example: last week, the second reading was from St. Paul's Epistle to the Ephesians. So, natch, the apparatchiks at the Chancery had to assert, with the usual metaphysical certitude, that Ephesians wasn't really written by Paul, but rather by some later writer. How this unproven (not to mention unprovable and a thesis contrary to every Church father who commented on the letter)hypothesis contributes anything to the understanding of the reading and its application to the Christian life is, of course, beside the point. The really important thing is that the author of the introductions has a couple of credit hours in sacred scripture, likely from the local pastoral institute, and therefore Knows More Than You. Snockered on Jagerbultmann, he can't stop himself from demonstrating his junior college erudition to the unfortunates who compromise his captive audience. And, of course, immediately after this hokery, the audience is faced with whiplash as the lector announces "From the Letter of St. Paul to the Ephesians."

Thanks, twerp.

This week: Second verse, same as the first.

But since this week involved that worrying submission passage, the audience really, really, really needed to have the lectionary passage whited out in the worst way.

They've had documented examples of fainting episodes where women have heard the long form of Ephesians 5, you know.

So we got quite the introductory paragraph this week: "The writer" was commenting from "a culturally-conditioned viewpoint," and "the important thing is not to attempt to recreate ancient social patterns." No, "the greater point is to understand the love we are supposed to have for each other in Christ."

Oh, but that's not the really pathetic part. You see, after spending a paragraph preparing people to dismiss the passage...they used the short form--which emphasizes the husband's self-sacrificial duty to his wife.

Brilliant!

The jackass tergiversations gave the husbands in the audience the license to dump that passage, too! Wasn't that "culturally conditioned," too? Not something we are supposed to recreate for our times? Hard to interpret it any other way.

How's that 50% Catholic divorce rate working for you?

In a culture that has managed to embrace all of the hideous vices of the ancient pagans, invent a few more and refuses to embrace the old pagan virtues, we might just want to start listening to the Apostle to the Gentiles.

Instead of impatiently waving him off.

Care for more scorpions, Tommy?

Tastes like chicken.

Uncle Di gives us an example of the assured result of modern biblical criticism: namely, agnosticism.

The arid wasteland that is Catholic biblical scholarship at the beginning of the 21st Century is nothing short of astounding. Far from opening the book to the faithful (as called for by the Second Vatican Council), this sort of thing slams it shut, essentially telling the reader he can't trust his lying eyes.

Moreover, it puts a gnostic elite between the lay reader and the Bible: the scholars are the ones who know what it really means, you poor benighted ignoramus. You need to run through the gauntlet, get swatted on the fanny with Bultmann, Wellhausen, et al and genuflect before the altar of form criticism before you can understand it. Preferably by spending lots of kaysh and writing a hardwood-smiting otiose dissertation that only the Ph.D committee will ever have the displeasure to read. But taking a formation program that feeds the results to the unfortunates in Alpo chunks will do just as well.

Either way, you're a fundy if you dare disagree with it.

I've always liked Diogenes' challenge to the scholar: "All right, fine. Then tell me how it would read differently if it had actually happened."

It's a nice way of telling His Imperial Majesty that he should at least consider a mansiere.

From the Jesus Never Said Anything About Dwarf-Tossing or Seal-Clubbing School of Christian 'Thought'.

Mark brings us the stylings of one Paula Gott, self-proclaimed "biblical investigator," proclaiming a Deus lo volt! in favor of embryonic stem cell research.

Initial impressions: (1) Her research has a telling, Didache-shaped hole at its center that leaves the remainder suspect (note Chapter 2).

(2) I doubt she's an evangelical, though she tries to appeal to that audience in the way she structures her arguments. (a) They generally avoid the New Revised Standard Version like it was herpes and (b), they don't argue that Plutarch wrote the Gospel According to Luke and Acts of the Apostles. [H/t to one of Mark's commenters for this great find.] I suspect the terms she uses are a direct appeal to the predominantly-evangelical audience of outstate Missouri.

And while I agree that her thesis about Plutarchian authorship of this large swath of the NT is...sui generis...I strongly object to Mark's commenters calling the Rev. Ms. Gott a "loony." In fact, those are fighting words.

She is not a loony! Why must she be attired with the epithet 'loony' merely because she has established that Luke is Plutarch? I've heard tell that John Shelby Spong has posited that Mark is Stephen King, and you wouldn't call him a 'loony'! Furthermore, Brett Favre, the gentleman quarterback, argued that Matthew was Dean Koontz; Dennis Kucinich hypothesized that Voltaire wrote both Philemon and Hebrews, and Jackie Collins conclusively proved that Douglas Coupland wrote Revelation! So, if you're calling the author of Hollywood Wives: The Next Generation a 'loony," I shall have to ask you to step outside!

Do try to keep a more civil tone next time.

Fundamentalism is the theological equivalent of a fever.

Think of it as the Body of Christ's attempt to fight off an infection. It's a sign that there's a deeper problem. You shouldn't celebrate the fever, but it's better than no temperature at all.

Or at least that's what came to mind while reading this ho-hum bath of lukewarm modernism passed off as "biblical scholarship" in the latest issue of U.S. Catholic (Motto: Helping the People of God Coo Into The Mirror Since 1963). Not to put too fine a point on it, it's the usual crap, tarting up, warming over and serving leftovers of Renan and Loisy covered in a generous frappe' of semi-ass-covering ambiguity. The crust long ago formed over the jacuzzi's contents, but people still like to cavort in the scuzzy water.

Oooh, the scandal: Joseph could have been Jesus' biological father! The Resurrection is not historical (which is what the "verifiable" tack boils down to)! Matthew cleverly cobbled together the story of the Virgin Birth!

In addition to helpfully pointing up how moribund Catholic biblical scholarship is (Quick: Name a significant Catholic biblical scholar under age 60 whose last name does not rhyme with "Ron"?), there is another helpful observation (emph. added):

Because historical-critical scholars try to get to the historical base of the text and the intent of the author, they begin to call into question some long-held beliefs. For example, are virginal conception or Resurrection things you can prove historically? How are we to understand this material? Are gospels biographical statements or are they theological statements?
When historical criticism began to raise these kinds of questions, the reaction was fundamentalism.

There is a real insight here, albeit wholly unintentional. You'll often hear progressives talk about "reception," the concept that if the "People of God" do not "receive" an irritating magisterial teaching, it is null and void. E.g., the ordination of women, non-affirmation of Pelvic Issues 1 through Infinity (inclusive), etc. More often than not, the "People of God" tend to be coterminous with the chancery staffs and Catholic university faculties of North America, but no matter. What's interesting is that "reception" does not apply when the prerogatives of the establishment are at stake. So, when the laity barf up the expired headcheese of biblical scholarship, the reaction is not "hmmm...maybe there's something wrong with what we're doing here."

Instead, the Inner Sadistic English Schoolmaster takes control and tells the benighted pupils that they will not be getting any pudding until they eat their "beef." After all, "We Catholics are not fundamentalists." Never mind the fact that that popular empty catchphrase is usually said with a preening self-regard worthy of the most accomplished Pharisee.

Given the choice between the baptized agnosticism of the scholars and fundamentalism, it's not surprising lay people choose the latter--better to be staggering around with a fever than on your deathbed.

Remember that the next time your bishop, chancery or episcopal conference gets worked up about "fundamentalism." They are concerned about the symptoms, not the underlying illness.