The Eternal Losers and The Power of Christ

Were you as creeped out as I was when you heard that there might be a consecrated host at the Harvard black mass?  While the fight to get it cancelled was totally worthwhile, here’s why you can rest easy tonight regardless of the outcome.

I admit it--when I heard that a Harvard student group was sponsoring a “reenactment” of a satanic ritual involving a potentially consecrated Communion host, I was not only angry, but also a little scared.  After all, Catholics believe that the consecrated host is Jesus—not a symbol or a reminder, but Jesus, truly present, in the flesh and blood.  While we agree with outside observers that the physical characteristics do not change, we believe that on the level of its identity—its substance, to use the theological language—it is truly, really, totally Christ.

So if somebody who hates Christ (or thinks they hate Christ, because if they really knew Him they would almost certainly love Him) gets a hold of one of these consecrated hosts, I start to wretch at the possibilities.  Though I had always brushed such thoughts under the rug of my conscious mind in the past, this Harvard story made that impossible.

Thankfully, God (Who cannot be abused, hurt, or controlled by any of us idiots down here) decided in His mercy and goodness to show me why such worry was unfounded.  Take a look at this post from Elizabeth Scalia’s blog, which talks about why such satanic rituals do not actually possess the power they claim to have:

“Christ gave himself to us, freely, of his own free will. A Gift freely given. If someone takes the Gift and spits on it or whatever — they’re only destroying what was given to them, they are destroying what is ‘theirs.’ They don’t in any way destroy the Giver of the Gift, or lessen the Giver, or the Gift. So they have no power over it, they can’t dominate it. All they can do is destroy themselves within themselves.”

 

The consecrated host is the presence of Jesus, but Jesus is a suffering servant who submitted himself to extreme denigration and humiliation for our sake.  His presence in the Eucharist is that same gift, which we are free to accept or reject.  While desecrating the Eucharist is an outrageously sinful act, it does nothing to injure or even demean God Himself.

Simply put, they have no power over God!  They never could.  And while we’re bashing devil-worshippers, I’ve also always wondered why, if someone believes in God, they would purposely choose to “worship” the guy who got kicked out of Heaven by God.  Purposely picking the loser—isn’t that sort of like choosing to play as Jigglypuff in Super Smash Brothers?  But I digress.

 

Now, mind you, I’m not trying to minimize the reality or power of the devil.  He was created as an angel—which means that, in terms of creation, he’s way more powerful than any of us on our own.  But we have ways of keeping him at bay and protecting ourselves.

I remember the advice I got from someone on the beach in Hawaii: never turn your back on the tide.  If you do, it can kill you.  It’s so easy to write it off as nothing, but people have literally been swept away by creeping tides that unexpectedly descended upon them when they turned their back.  Satan is much the same way.  Always keep one eye on him, and be aware that he is actively trying to mess with you.  Whatever you do, do not write him off as a legend or a myth.  As they say in The Usual Suspects, “the greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world that he doesn’t exist.”  Don’t fall for it.  He’s out there, and he doesn’t like you.

But the good news is this:  God has given us a protector who has already once beaten the tar out of Satan, and is totally willing to do it again whenever we call upon him: Saint Michael the Archangel.  This supernatural guardian—who, I contend, must actually be way more ripped and imposing than the girly-man he is usually depicted as—is more than willing to step up and defend us from the devil whenever we ask.  Take a look at the statue pictured below.  Now we're getting somewhere!  That's more the Michael that I believe in.

 

And since, in writing this post debunking his followers’ false power, the devil may be a little extra peeved at me, I finish with this prayer—in which I have complete faith as a means of protection from all the attacks of the evil one:

Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle.  Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.  May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do Thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host [remember, that means army!], by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls.

Amen.

Now, let’s say it again!

Confidently,

Joezilla

P.S.:  Read the whole post at Elizabeth Scalia’s blog here.

The 100-Year-Old Tweet

In the 1920s, saxophonist Frankie Trumbauer was the cat’s meow.  Along with other early jazz musicians like the awesomely-named Bix Beiderbecke, Trumbauer enjoyed a brief stint of popularity that earned him a permanent place in jazz history.  His most notable tune, “Singin’ the Blues,” has recently captivated my attention in an inexplicable way.  I strongly suggest you listen to the song (by clicking here) while reading this post.  Not only will it set the tone and give more meaning to my meandering musings, but it will also get your toe tapping.

While Trumbauer’s music may sound lovably quaint and vaguely predictable to our modern ears—which have soaked in a musical atmosphere that is both more developed and less refined than that of the 1920s—it was rather edgy in its time.

As a fan of early jazz, I often wonder about the musicians that wrote and performed this bouncy and light-hearted music, and the young people who absorbed it as the “cool” music of their day.  Working with such old audio, it is difficult to imagine that this was all real.  The grainy recordings, with their muted articulations, poor balance, and general “over-the-phone” impression, seem to me the faint and fading transmissions of a distant and alien people—no less vivid and human than I am—but sadly unable to convey that humanity fully on account of impotent technology.

However, there is a bright side to this heretofore melancholy discussion, and that is simply this: We’re talking about music, and music can be resurrected like the Phoenix by any interested musician.  And that is perhaps the greatest way to forge a connection with these long lost musicians and listeners that I’ve been referring to.  Play the music again, here, now.

Today I was transcribing (i.e. listening to and figuring out the notes to a song) Trumbauer’s “Singin’ the Blues” on alto saxophone.  After blowing through Trumbauer’s first chorus, I was grinning with delight to be playing such outrageously outdated music in the 21st century.  But in truth, music is never outdated—as long as someone is still playing it.  As long as it resonates in someone’s heart and echoes back in their humming, strumming, blowing, or plunking, the sound gap has been bridged, the era barrier toppled.  A connection has been made across time, and the experience and energy of our ancestors is retweeted for a new generation.

The word “tradition” comes from the Latin verb trado which, devoid of any connotations, literally means “to hand over.”  Tradition is precisely that, the handing over of some treasured knowledge, wisdom, or practice to those who come after.  Obviously, not everything can be handed down from one generation to the next.  Rod Stewart (whom, trust me, you do not want to Google image-search) wisely reminds us in “Forever Young,”

And when you finally fly away, I’ll be hoping that I served you well
For all the wisdom of a lifetime, no one can ever tell.

Nonetheless, it is the duty of every person to hand down to their successors all that they needed to survive and thrive, and hopefully whatever they learned along the way—for by way of persistent regret or contented nostalgia, the most important lessons of life have a way of sticking with us to the end.

Christians know all about tradition.  Catholics even like to capitalize the word, and they are wise to do so.  Tradition (thus capitalized) refers not merely to teachings that are written in books or spoken by sages; Tradition is the entire life of the Church, the acts of liturgy, the works of service, and the mysterious but unmistakable presence and personality of Christ that remains in the heart of every genuine Christian.

Think about this: how is it that most anyone who believes in Christ can, with little difficulty, answer the question “What would Jesus do” in a given situation?  The answer is that we have been taught who Jesus was, how he acted, what his presence was like, by our elders.  And where did our elders receive this precious information?  From their elders.  If we continue the inquiry, the chain continues backward through history until we bump into the Apostles, hastily preaching the Good News to anyone who would listen, and finally we reach Christ himself—the source and ever-present life of our Church.

Open up the Bible to the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:3-12), and go live one of those out today.  Put that written word into practice.  Retweet the love of Christ through your own actions.  Those who come after you will appreciate it.

Man of Steel: For Little Boys and Theologians Only

If Michael Phillips’ review in the Chicago Tribune is any indication, it seems that critics (and perhaps moviegoers) have finally had it with absurdly over-the-top, literally earth-shattering special effects sequences in big-budget action films.  It is entirely okay, and indeed often preferable, to have a movie climax that does not involve the potential annihilation of the planet.  Perhaps moviegoers are finally realizing the boredom of sheer excess—when every movie plot threatens a major U.S. city with total destruction, it’s just about the same as if none of them did.  This is a conclusion the public has needed for quite a while (and it’s a horn I’ve been tooting for some time—see my review of last summer’s The Bourne Legacy).  In the wake of such special effects love feasts as the Transformers series—and amidst legitimately awesome blockbusters like The Avengers—America is in need of thoughtful, clever, yet simple films.  Fewer special effects, more snappy dialogue, and a focus on plot.

Yes, we have overdosed on special effects, and Man of Steel may have finally alerted folks to this grave fact.  I am relieved to see that there may be light at the end of this decade’s heretofore entirely computer-generated tunnel of explosions.  How ironic, then, that I found myself loving Man of Steel, and cannot bring myself to agree with the lukewarm or unfavorable reviews that some critics and viewers have afforded it.

There are two reasons for this.

First, the battles.  The battles in Man of Steel are completely over-the-top, exhibiting each and every symptom of dumb action movie excess, including but not limited to: extreme close-ups of hand-to-hand combat that obscure the events of the brawl and render it less exciting; unconvincing computer-generated body doubles engaging in unbelievable stunts that likewise diminish the excitement of the movie; an absurd scale that requires not just the combatants, but entire skyscrapers and city blocks to be brought down over the course of the fight; disconcerting collateral damage that calls to mind the presumably grisly fate of countless bystanders, who are totally glossed over in the movie’s narrative; and volume jacked up so high that one exits the theater both dizzy and wondering how to treat a perforated ear drum.

And yet, for all that, the battles are awesome.  They are everything I would hope for in a Superman battle.  Superman punches with marvelous strength; his enemy returns a blow of equal magnitude.  Superman grabs his foe, flies a mile into the air, and slams him back to earth—and leaving his mark in the form of a crater.  Watching the battles in Man of Steel, I was taken back to my childhood, which was filled with epic battles between Godzilla and King Kong, Spider-Man and Venom, and a host of other heroes and monsters who filled my toybox and my coolest daydreams.

I smirked as Superman flew General Zodd up into space, only to be smashed by his villainous foe into an orbiting satellite and thrown back into our atmosphere (both of them catch on fire as they hurtle back down to earth, and of course neither is affected negatively by this development).  Yet the smirk was not one of cynicism, but fraternal enjoyment; I knew that somewhere on the other end of this movie was someone who agreed with me that “it would be really cool if Superman grabbed him and flew up so high that he went into space, and started punching him while he was up there, and then he crashed into a satellite, and they both fell back down to earth and caught on fire…”  You get the picture.  And yes, that also goes for the absolutely awesome scene in which Superman tackles Zodd at lighting speed, rolls him through miles of dirt, punching him savagely all the while, and eventually launches him full speed into a truck filling up at a gas station.  This is in response to Zodd bullying Superman’s earthly Mom (while he’s punching Zodd, he yells, “YOU…THINK…YOU…CAN…THREATEN…MY…MOM!?!”).  For any boy who loves his own Mom, this is seriously fun to watch.

The battles are not perfect.  The effects sometimes look a little unrealistic.  It is unclear how exactly Superman wins the fight (because spoiler alert, he wins).  And they certainly display no sense of subtlety or restraint.  But sometimes we’re not in the mood for restraint.  And what better way to indulge such a mood than in a harmless and basically innocent couple of hours in a movie theater?  If you enjoyed making your action figures bash each other across the living room and get crushed by giant boulders (i.e. sofa cushions) when you were younger, you will definitely enjoy this movie.

On to the second reason I enjoyed Man of Steel: it got me thinking about spiritual things.  I am a Theology guy, and I always comb movies, books, and shows for religious, spiritual, and moral messages.  Whether good or bad, they’re always there.  Man of Steel continues the recent superhero movie trend of self-sacrifice and responsibility so wonderfully inaugurated in 2002’s Spider-Man and continued by later Marvel and Batman films.

However, there is something about this movie that goes much deeper than the others.  Man of Steel transcends mere virtue and, I contend, delves into specifically religious and Christian ideas.  Throughout the movie, Superman is presented as a sort of Christ-figure.  On the surface level: he’s 33 years old, he’s lived a life of relative obscurity leading up to his public career as a wonder-worker, his father is dead by the time he’s an adult and he is very close to his mother, and he is met with varying degrees of both admiration and suspicion by those who encounter him.

On a deeper level, we see Superman/Kal-El/Clark as a blend of humanity and superhumanity; we see him interact with and master forces the like of which any number of humans couldn’t dream of taking on; we see him courted by evil and tempted to abuse his power by prideful superhumans who consider humanity an inferior creation; we see the hope of an entire people resting on his shoulders; we see him engage in a struggle that literally no one else could begin to take up; we see him banish evil with an act of total self-sacrifice.

I will dwell on only one scene to illustrate this point.  When Superman attacks the terraforming machine in the Indian Ocean, he is weakened by the atmospheric changes surrounding the contraption.  After fighting off a set of serpentine metal tendrils in spite of his weakened state, he is forced underneath the full blast of the machine’s world-destroying might.  We see him engulfed in blue energy emanating from the machine, apparently being pushed to the limits of his resilience and strength.  It seems that he might not survive as he scrunches up his face in pain and yells in agony.  Yet just when it seems that he won’t pull through, he launches up against this stream of energy and slices through the machine’s innards in a stunning upward flight.

Perhaps it seems absurd, but this scene got me thinking about Jesus’ suffering and crucifixion.  What I saw in the movie—Superman withstanding a torrent of lethal otherworldly energy and emerging the victor—made me look at Jesus’ act of sacrifice in a new way.  Specifically, it focused my attention on the spiritual aspect of the Passion.  Of course we often consider, especially before Easter, the extreme physical suffering Jesus went through for our sake.  But we must remember that we also believe that, in taking the burden of the cross on his shoulders, Jesus was taking the weight of humanity’s guilt upon himself.  During those awful hours of torture and death, Jesus took up the unfathomable mass of man’s evil, carried it with him along the way to Calvary, and ultimately destroyed every ounce of it.  There was more negative energy—more evil, pain, guilt, shame, regret, horror, hatred, disgust, and misery—concentrated on Jesus Christ at that time than on any other person in history before or since, or ever.  How amazing is that, that he did that for us?  The blue energy that almost killed Superman in this movie is, to me, another way of expressing the spiritual aspect of Jesus’ suffering.
 

Now I should already know the amazing nature of Jesus’ sacrifice, and in some sense I do.  But seeing this computer-generated spectacle on screen today made me realize the magnitude of Christ’s spiritual agony as he faced off against the worst stuff that evil could throw at him.  In taking our guilt upon himself, Christ did the most amazing, heroic, and wonderful thing anyone has ever done or will do.

I may not be making myself clear.  We illustrate and meditate on depictions of the physical suffering of our Savior (and this is good and important).  But how often do we reflect on the spiritual aspect?  How could it have felt to carry the punishment incurred by an entire race of beings on a single man's shoulders?  It is a fearsome thing to consider.  And we just don't think about it when we see a picture of the crucifixion, because it's not something that comes through in a picture, or even in the physical event itself.  Onlookers could not see the burden of sin Jesus took up on his way to Golgotha.  It was and is a spiritual reality, accessed and understood only through faith.  We believe it, but we could never see it with our eyes.

Man of Steel is certainly not a straight allegory of Jesus.  If it was intended to be, it’s a train wreck.  But I don’t think that was the filmmaker’s intention.  Instead, I think the idea here was to illustrate certain Christian ideas and images in interesting ways.  In that sense, the movie is a complete success.

So there you have it: Man of Steel, a film for little boys and theologians.  Go see it.  I think you might enjoy it.

The Church is the Agent of Christ

Blessed John Henry Cardinal Newman.

The following is a brief reflection on the role and purpose of the Church. I wrote it after digesting much material by Bl. John Henry Newman and Maurice Blondel, two Catholic thinkers whose theology was extremely influential on modern theology. Don't be scared off by the phrase "modern theology;" for anyone who doesn't feel much affinity to Karl Rahner, give these two gents a look--you will not be disappointed, I assure you. Anyway, this was written as the result of digesting the thoughts of these two intellectual giants, as well as the mentoring of one of my greatest Theology teachers at Loyola University, Fr. Peter Bernardi. I hope you enjoy it. Keep in mind that my thoughts are not authoritative representations of Church doctrine, but my own meanderings based on what I've learned. I do intend, of course, for all these writings to adhere to Catholic teaching. Enjoy...

Maurice Blondel, looking sharp.

 
One of the jobs of the Church is to preserve the Gospel (not referring only to the 4 books in the New Testament, but to the general "Good News" of Christ and his Resurrection), offering it to the present generation and handing it on to the next. However, Jesus was not a robot who acted mechanically according to divine laws, but a person who acted spontaneously according to divine Love.  Thus, the Church must view itself less as a preserver of information and more as the agent of a life-changing and earth-shaking message.  As the spirit of Christ is continually discerned and lived out by the institution of the Church and in the lives of its members, the Gospel is preserved, offered, and handed on.

St. Peter, the keeper of the keys.

 
The Apostles were profoundly affected by their experience of Christ: seeing the things he did, how he responded to daily occurrences, how he treated other people, and ultimately how he was willing to submit to the Father's will—and, of course, his Resurrection.  In being thus affected they were made able (with the Spirit's help) to gather their experience of Christ into a coherent Gospel message.  So, in every age, the present Church acts as the hands and feet of Christ, doing his work according to the needs of the present historical moment.  But always the Church must remain faithful to its Master and Founder.  Thus, the perennial motto of the Church truly must be: "What would Jesus do?"

Humbly yours,
Joezilla

The Skeptic

We don't know much about Heaven. Although we can draw on Christian revelation to acknowledge some basic facts about the place—for instance, that it is eternal and supremely fulfilling, and that it involves perfect fellowship with God—our religion is rather vague when it comes to details. I'm not just talking about the color of Heaven's wallpaper, of course, but more prickly questions like who gets in and what they have to do before they get there (yes, there's a doctrine of Purgatory, which is sort of like a training room for Heaven, but what can we say about Purgatory other than that it exists?), and—perhaps most interestingly—what happens the moment we die. Where do we go? How does it feel? These are questions whose answers do not lie on earth, and about which we can only speculate while we dwell here. What follows is just such a speculation. Join me if you will as we begin our story, on a train...

A Catholic, an Evangelical, and an atheist were riding together (this is not a joke, I promise!). Upon seeing the atheist, who was wearing a shirt that said "God is not great," the Evangelical leaned over to the Catholic and said, "He will not see Heaven. He is not saved." The Catholic answered, "I do not know."

The next moment, the train crashed, and all three men died.

Suddenly they stood in a long line of people. Jesus stood in front of the line, speaking to each person for a brief moment before sending them to his left or to his right.

When the atheist came to Jesus, he was asked, "Who do you say that I am?" The atheist, visibly struck by his experience and by the Lord's loving gaze, fell prostrate and cried, "My Lord and my God!" The Lord immediately welcomed him to Paradise.

When the Catholic stepped forward, Jesus asked, "What do you want me to do for you?" The Catholic genuflected and said, "O Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner!" Jesus answered, "Your sins are forgiven," and welcomed him into Paradise.

Finally, the Evangelical came forward. Jesus asked him, "Where are you going?" After a momentary pause, the Evangelical's quiet response was, "I don't know." Instantly the Lord embraced him and led him into Paradise.

THE END.

I Have A Confession To Make

“I couldn’t accept it in theory, but it made sense in practice.” This was the statement I found myself making in a conversation with one of my closest friends about the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

We’re both devout Catholics who have always gladly partaken of the Sacraments applicable to our stage in life, but we have, admittedly, also shared some reservations about Reconciliation. This didn’t stop us from participating in it, but certain problems have tended to pop up in our conversations about it. The quote printed at the top of this post reveals the epiphany I am slowly enjoying regarding the Sacrament: I am now realizing how important regular Reconciliation is to a committed Catholic life. As I feel particularly inspired tonight, I would like to address the two chief concerns that have sometimes weathered away confidence in the Sacrament.

The first is the fact that Reconciliation consists partly of confessing one’s sins to another human being—imperfect, subjective, and susceptible to sin. Confidentiality might worry some, but I can assure anyone plagued by such worries that it is a truly confidential affair. Every priest I have ever heard speak about hearing confession has testified that it is a humbling privilege, and that they can feel the Holy Spirit working through them in their ability to listen, to speak words of comfort or advice, and to assign an appropriate penance. They also value the Seal of Confession—the priestly duty to keep penitents’ sins completely confidential—as highly as anything else in their profession. In short, they take Reconciliation seriously.

But this is not the issue that bothered us. The real problem with confessing to another man, one might argue, is that the action is ultimately just that—confession to another human soul. Why the need for an intermediary? Well, simply put, Reconciliation is a Sacrament, and like any other Sacrament, its administration requires someone who has been endowed with the authority and power to do so. Just as the consecration of the Eucharist requires an ordained priest, so Reconciliation requires a priestly intermediary.

You could, if you so choose, picture the priest’s authority and power as a sort of special machine that only he possesses. If someone who doesn’t have the machine—i.e. is not ordained—attempts to perform a priestly function, said function will have no certain effect. On the other hand, our faith tells us—with the same assurance that it tells us everything else—that a priest’s Sacramental actions are real—real in the highest sense, which is the supernatural sense. If I enter the confessional with my aunt Sally and proceed to confess my deepest sins to her, she can listen and offer advice and even suggest what I might do to fix my broken relationship with God—but she cannot offer the guarantee of complete and total forgiveness, by the power of Christ and in the name of the Catholic Church, that an ordained priest could and would offer. Furthermore, there is no guarantee that she will keep it silent.

Finally, strictly speaking, the priest is not the one who is forgiving you—he is acting in persona Christi, in the person of Christ. Jesus Christ is present in every confessional booth, listening to your sins, leading you back to him, and loving you fully all the while.

This leads to the next potentially questionable aspect of Reconciliation. Simply put, Jesus died on the cross, and through his passion and death he bore the weight of all of our sins—which were forgiven through his unfathomable act of sacrifice and atonement. Why, then, do we need to go and get forgiven again? Doesn’t Jesus love us anyway?

Well, to answer the last question right away, yes—Jesus loves us no matter what. St. Paul made this clear when he asserted that “Nothing can separate us from the love of God” in his letter to the Romans. Given this, why do we say that someone might not get to Heaven if they die without having confessed their sins?

In order to answer this question, we need to briefly talk about what Hell really means in Catholic theology. Of course, volumes and volumes could be written about this subject, but in a nutshell Hell is complete and eternal separation from God, brought on by—and this is the important part—our refusal to accept His love. The only way we can get to Hell is by saying no to God and slamming the door in His amazing face. God’s will for us is clear: He wants us to be united with Him, each person remaining unique but joined with Him and with one another in an unshakeable bond of intimate love unlike anything on Earth. In order to be united with God, Who is perfect, we must first be made perfect. Jesus gave us the Sacraments to help bring us closer to this goal before we complete the job in Purgatory.

That said, it becomes clear that Reconciliation is not the act of God listening, evaluating our penitence, and reluctantly saying, “Okay, I’ve changed my mind. I forgive you!” No—God doesn’t change. He’s perfect and He’s outside of time. No change there. Reconciliation is in fact about us, and how we change in the presence of God and His amazing love. This is not to say that a supernatural sort of transaction has not taken place, of course. On the contrary, God actually does wipe our slate clean when we are absolved. Our sins are forgiven, as the priest tells us after we are absolved. But God’s will has not changed, only our relationship with Him, and our ability to relate to Him once again. The disunion is mended. We are no longer standing in our own way, tripping ourselves as we try to walk toward God.

Jesus’ suffering and death did pay for all our sins. The New Testament testifies to this truth as much as it testifies to any other. However, like the debris accumulated in an air filter, sin has had an effect on us, and we need the Sacrament of Reconciliation to be wiped clean. It’s not about having God erase the checkmarks by your name on the heavenly report card; on the contrary, it’s about God making you ready to come closer to Him again. When we have consciously committed a sin we cannot get as close to God, because sin is separation from God. We cannot choose closeness and separation and expect to achieve either one. If we try, our spiritual life becomes superficial, dishonest, and dull. And under those conditions, we’re shooting ourselves in the foot before we start walking.

I like to call it Reconciliation. This is a more complete name for the Sacrament than “confession,” which forgets to include the whole absolution part—which is, needless to say, kind of important! Yes, I’m finally coming around on Reconciliation. I hope that this post will help you do the same, dear readers.

Authentically,
Joezilla

Christianity and Islam: Not the Same God

I’ve grown pretty tired of hearing a certain adage that has unfortunately become par for the course in any discussion about Islam and Christianity. I refer to the idea that “Christians and Muslims worship the same God.” Or, in its more stylish (though technically more confusing) form, “God and Allah are the same.” This notion is corrosive to an honest and critical understanding of religious differences, leading to a false sense of interreligious agreement, which usually requires one or both faiths to deny their true identity. And that is the biggest problem with the “Allah = God” idea—it denies important aspects of both religions.

Now before getting into this, let’s take care of the obvious objections. Yes, Allah means “God” in Arabic. And yes, Arab Christians use the term Allah to signify the God of Christianity. And yes once more, many or most Muslims are happy to translate the word Allah as “God.” But to hook onto mere names and words is to misjudge the depth of the argument here. We are examining not the name that each faith gives to God, but the words, actions, and attributes of God in each faith. In Islam and Christianity, these are quite different, even if they are both called “God.”

REVELATION: THE WAY TO UNDERSTANDING

How do we, as faithful people, learn about God? The answer, of course, is revelation. Revelation, in the traditional sense, is the transmission of God’s Truth into the world through various means. In Christian and Muslim contexts, revelation was memorized, transmitted orally, and later written down, or written down from the start. Revelation is important because it is our foundation for any claims about God; without it, the tools of reason and practical experience can only help us speculate about God. Add revelation to the mix, though, and the human mind and memory have something to work with. This phenomenon could be expressed as a simple equation:

Revelation + Reason + Experience = Knowledge of God

But the important fact to remember is that revelation is the most important component of the equation above. If the Qur’an states about God that “He created all things and He is All Knowing of all things” (6.101), then we don’t need to do much logical reasoning to understand this. It’s a pretty clear statement about God. And we certainly could not employ reason or experience to contest a claim of revelation. The point is, revelation is the first and foremost factor in understanding God from a Christian or Muslim perspective, and so we must give it higher priority than anything else when comparing the two religions.

So let’s do that, and see if Christians and Muslims really worship the same God.

“THE GOSPEL TRUTH”

In the 4th Sura (the Qur’anic equivalent of a chapter in the Bible), it is written:

O People of the Book! Do not commit excesses in your religion: Nor say anything except the truth about God. Messiah Isa (Christ Jesus), the son of Maryam (Mary) was a messenger of God, and His Word, which He sent down to Maryam, and a Spirit created by Him: So believe in God and His messengers. Do not say “Trinity”: Stop: It will be better for you: Because God is One God: Glory be to Him…. (4.171)

This passage is an answer to the Christian claim that Jesus, as the second person of the Holy Trinity, is the Son of God. For the sake of historical context, note that the Christian claim about Jesus predates the Muslim one by about 550 years! But I digress. The point here is simply that the Qur’an clearly speaks against the idea of a Triune God, divesting Jesus of his divinity and emphasizing the oneness of God.

Christians, on the other hand, beg to differ about Jesus, and consequently about God. As Jesus testifies in the Gospel of John,

The Father and I are one. (10:30)

And lest anyone point out that John’s Gospel pushes the divinity of Jesus harder than the other Gospels, let’s throw in the final verses of Matthew’s Gospel, for both good measure and a solid demonstration of the Trinitarian formula:

Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age. (28:19-20)

The point here, plain and simple, is that Muslims worship a God of total, inviolable unity. This principle of God’s oneness is in fact the first part of the shahadah, the concise profession of faith that one must make in order to become a Muslim. This principle is, by any Muslim’s admission, the core of Islamic belief about God.

Contrast this image of God with that of Christianity. God is one unity expressed in three persons: God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. Christians accept the admittedly confusing mystery of the Trinity as essential to their faith because it was handed down to them from revelation and through tradition, but they do not see themselves as worshipping more than one God.

But is this one God the same as the one God worshipped by the Muslims? Unless Muslims consider Jesus to be God (they don’t), or Christians consider God to be a Unity rather than a Trinity (they don’t), we are dealing with two very different images of God here.

CONCLUSION

When Christians say that they worship “the same God” as their Muslim brothers and sisters, they are allying themselves with a God who denies the divinity of Jesus. Do Christians really want to make such a claim? The same is true for Muslims. When they identify their own God as “the same” as the God of Christianity, they are adopting God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit as objects of their veneration. If they do not agree to do this, then they are not worshipping the God of Christianity.

We are entering an age in which religious understanding will become perhaps more important than ever before; as such, religious self-understanding takes on an even more breathtaking urgency. It will not help to claim erroneous similarities between religions in the hopes of breaking down barriers, when those barriers are foundational and essential assertions of each faith. There are differences; we must learn and embrace these differences if we want our faith to retain its astounding power in the world, the blazing power of Truth, unadulterated. If all faith was actually the same, there would be only one faith.

Bring It On

And if this band don't desert me,
Then there's nothin'
In the world can hurt me,
Long as I'm singin' my song.

As long as I'm singin',
Then the world's all right
And everything's swingin',
Long as I'm singin' my song!

—Bobby Darin, "As Long As I'm Singing"

I'll bet Bobby Darin never dreamed, as he sang this song, that it would be a source of earth-shattering inspiration for someone who would walk the earth half-a-century later. In case you were wondering (if, in fact, there is someone reading out there who might be wondering), this song was exactly that (i.e. a source of earth-shattering inspiration) for me this morning.

Take another look at those lyrics. Actually, if I were you, I'd just listen to the song. Here, follow this link (and appreciate it, too—it's not every day that I offer links on this blog! You're lucky I'm feeling charitable today…):

http://free.napster.com/player/?play_id=13761920&type=track

In addition to being a wonderful song, it reveals some key truths about living the life well-lived. First off, life is what we make of it. As we concluded in the last entry, "As you think, so shall you be." Your thoughts determine your words and actions, which determine your habits, which determine your character, which determine your destiny. Whew! This thing we call life is actually a pretty dangerous game, when you think about it! But if we don't play, we don't have a chance of victory. But I digress.

The point is, your thoughts determine, in large part, what your life is like. How is it that a CEO with a six-figure salary and a Cadillac could be miserable, while a blue-collar family man with two mortgages could be happy? The answer is perspective. What do those men see when they walk out the door in the morning? The negative man sees the same thing he sees every day: his driveway, the ground, the sky. It doesn’t' ever change. He goes about his day intensely focused on his work and his obligations, and, therefore, paradoxically, he is supremely unfocused on life itself. The positive man, however, sings a song of gratefulness and contentment with every action he takes. Every sight, sound, and circumstance is a blessing, whether obvious or concealed. Every problem (and he realizes how few his true problems are compared to others' maladies) is an opportunity, and a challenge to find that opportunity, seize hold of it, and use it to light a match of goodness in this weary world, to shamelessly ape Shakespeare's beautiful metaphor.

But there's something else about this song that struck me today:

And if this band don't desert me,
Then there's nothin'
In the world can hurt me,
Long as I'm singin' my song.

He's right. Nothing in this world can hurt us except ourselves. If we believe what we read in the Bible, then it becomes abundantly clear that this fact holds. As long as we do our part, God protects us. The only way a man can fall off the wagon is by throwing himself off of it. The only way a man can end up in the gutter is by purposefully jumping into it. One might say that at birth, or perhaps Baptism, we are placed on the elevator to Heaven. It is solely our choice whether to press a button and get off at a lower floor.

I can't help but feel relieved and grateful for this realization. God actually loves us all, and He has promised us that if we do our best for Him, He will not let us down. He wants us to succeed. The Creator and supreme Power of the universe is cheering us on every day. Is there any more inspiring fact than that? I think not!

Thankfully His,
Joezilla

Iron Will

I recall doing something recently that I immediately regretted, and thinking disappointedly “If I had perfect self-control, I wouldn’t have done that.” But what came next was a stunning realization: over every conscious decision I make, I have total control.

But this is a contradiction with my prior thought: “IF I had perfect self-control…” Clearly, I was wrong in thinking this. It is undeniable fact that every conscious decision I’ve ever made was initiated and guided by me. So, in reality, I do have perfect self-control, and so do you.

You see, this is sin’s evil little secret—it has no real power unless we give it power. The devil, as it has been said, can only enter your house if you let him in. Once we truly understand this fact, sin’s danger is lessened because its mystery is lessened. We are able to peer into the inner workings of this nefarious machine and observe—if only for a fleeting moment, like a lightning flash—the deceptive smoke and mirrors it relies on.

But we can’t do it alone. Here’s where we delve into some theology. We can only capitalize on this realization if we ask God to work inside us. Only He possesses the power to master and dispel sin’s power, because He is the source of all creation, including our free will, our “perfect self-control.” We can put our trust in Him, or we can go it alone and accept eternal failure.

Full comprehension of this idea puts a refreshing coat of appreciation on the Catholic Prayer of Contrition:

“Oh my God, I am sorry for my sins.
In choosing to do wrong, and failing to do good,
I have sinned against You, Whom I should love above all things.
I firmly intend, with Your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin.”

(Yes, I added the bolds; I don't believe those are present in the official Roman documents)

“This is the thrilling romance of Orthodoxy. People have fallen into a foolish habit of speaking of orthodoxy as something heavy, humdrum, and safe. There never was anything so perilous or so exciting as orthodoxy.”
—G.K. Chesterton