This series was originally published by the Archdiocese of Regina.

This series of reflections by contributor Dan Sherven is based on his experiences and learning while participating in Bishop Robert Barron’s The Mass . This study program, including readings and videos, often carried out in a group, provides a biblical walk through the Liturgy of the Mass, promising transformation through “this most privileged and intimate encounter with our Lord Jesus Christ this side of heaven.”

Bishop Robert Barron’s The Mass: Reflection One

Our Enlightenment inheritance is to think that our reason is better than our faith. It’s a sign of the times to try and rationally dissect the Trinity or the miracle of the Eucharist. Perhaps the point of both of these things, in a sense—is that God wants us to trust Him rather than reason about Him.

Many Protestants hold that the Eucharist is only a symbol. The Eucharist is a symbol, but it participates in a greater Reality. It is both; it is not only a symbol but also symbolic. Maybe that is where much of the confusion around the ‘real presence’ of Christ comes from. The Eucharist is a symbol of Christ’s body and blood, and it also really is His body and blood. The Eucharist is a symbol, which is the Reality it symbolizes.

Also, angels are present at Mass. However, people tend to think of angels as heavenly human beings with wings. Yet the work of Orthodox thinker Jonathan Pageau, drawing on the Church Fathers, points to angels and demons as intelligences. Angels and demons are spirits without a body. That is why there is always something seriously lost when angels are represented as human bodies.

There’s no better visual solution because one is trying to represent something that exists only in the spirit and does not have a body. In the end, given our intelligence, people are the closest created creatures to angels. But angels and demons are better thought of as intelligences which influence us. Angels and demons aim to have humans be their bodies. In this light, a good idea could be seen as angelic, and a deeply sinful idea demonic, but there is no outside human figure involved in bringing either idea to a person’s attention.

In terms of spiritual reality breaking into physical reality, Psalm 85 states that “Truth will spring from the earth.” Christ says in the Gospel of John: “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” Christ is the Word or the Logos, the Truth Who springs from the earth. The Christian revelation is that the Truth is a person, Jesus Christ. Author Matthieu Pageau notes that in Biblical cosmology, the word ‘earth’ means material reality. So again, Psalm 85 points to Christ. Seeing as Christ fully takes on the matter of the created world, in becoming Man, to save us.

We also have reflections from Thomas Merton, the Catholic writer who was influenced by Buddhism and Daoism. He mentions how language can only have meaning because there is silence between the words. Merton is thinking of the great silence one experiences in the Mass. And he says that during Mass, we hear the Divine Mercy in that silence.

Merton writes elsewhere that the Dao is the Spirit of God. Vatican II notes that other world religions have “rays of truth in them.” And the Dao is often described as water. So, the Holy Spirit could also be described as water. Considering that the Spirit is the eternally flowing source of life. We flow in the Spirit. Knowing not where the Spirit comes from, nor where It goes.

We are given a great emphasis on being rather than doing. That includes the story of Martha and Mary, two sisters whom Jesus visits. Mary is busy cleaning and organizing things in the house. She somewhat scolds Martha, who is simply sitting in the presence of Christ. Yet Jesus approves of Martha’s still approach. As Psalm 46 reminds us, “Be still and know that I am God.”

There’s mention of Saint John Paul and his idea that a person has to be before one can do. Again, harkening to Psalm 46. Yahweh is the Hebrew verb to be. Because when God reveals His name to Moses—after Moses takes off his sandals, which would be used for working, God says His name is “I AM.” God is the Existing One on which all subsequent existence is dependent. We are called to sit and be still before I AM.

That’s the essence of play—to be still—then become more to be rather than to do. Bishop Barron notes how the Mass is the most useless activity, which is to say that Mass is the highest activity because Mass is pure play. It is not sacrificial work that is done for a secondary purpose, such as to gain money. Instead, Mass is done for itself, as all great play is. “Heaven is a playground,” says the Catholic writer G.K. Chesterton.

Integral to play is the idea of encountering Christ. We are given a quote from Pope Benedict XVI before he became Pope, so he was then Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger. In 2005, at the funeral of Luigi Giussani, who was the leader of the liturgical reform movement, Ratzinger said: “Christianity is not an intellectual system, a collection of dogmas, or a moralism. Christianity is instead an encounter, a love story, an event.” Christianity is primarily a relationship with Jesus.

Bishop Robert Barron’s The Mass: Reflection Two

Early on in the Mass, there’s a section of worship called the “Gloria.” That’s when we give glory to God in the highest. It produces peace on earth. Because when we make God the highest point of our attention, lifted up, everything else falls into place. The Suffering Servant, Christ, is the archetype which makes everything else work properly—if Christ is in the highest.

That peace arrives both in our individual lives and in Christian societies. When heaven is the highest, earth works. In other words, when Spiritual Reality is worshiped correctly, all things in material reality can play their proper role, even though that proper role could still be rife with suffering. It’s at least righteous suffering, which should be easier for us to bear, with Christ.

The highest point of our attention is the same thing by definition as that which we worship. Bishop Barron says that when we give “glory to God in the highest,” it’s an expression of humility and proper praise. The inevitable result is peace “in me and around me.” The alternative—having something other than God be the highest point of attention—is by definition idolatry. The result is something far from peace on earth. Immediately, things get placed wrongly. Our focus is off.

There are many things about Christ and God that we cannot know while we are alive. But it’s important that we remain in the “cloud of unknowing.” In Second Chronicles, the Israelites are unable to continue their worship because God—as a cloud—descends into the Temple and obscures all vision. We can think of incense as a tangible sign of this, which purifies the area and provides a cloud of unknowing. We must be comfortable with not knowing because that’s often what faith is.

Faith is both to trust in things unseen as well as the evidence of things not seen. There is a divine darkness that the great mystical writers talk about, where we begin to realize that we don’t truly know God at all. A space where it would make more sense to say God does not exist, because our category of existence cannot hold God. While God’s energies do act in the world, such as the cloud in the Temple, the essence of God remains fundamentally unknown.

There is something to be said for aspects of liturgical worship that are not propositional. Meaning, things including ritual actions which are not primarily ideas. Embodied participation, going through the procedure of singing, reorients one’s perspective to the divine darkness. These are non-propositional forms of knowledge are an antidote to the digital age, where nothing is incarnate and everything is ideas. As Saint Gregory of Nyssa writes: “Wonder leads to knowing.” Here, he is talking about knowing through not-knowing.

In the Kyrie Eleison, “Christ have mercy,” we have the Greek word eleos, which is translated into English as mercy. But eleos also comes from a Greek word for olive oil, which was used to heal wounds. Here we are reminded of the Eastern Orthodox Christians, who describe the Church as a hospital for sinners. There is, then, a focus on divine mercy and healing, rather than divine justice and punishment. In the West, unfortunately, we often think of the Church as a courtroom rather than a hospital.

Our reading states that “God is the Holy Spirit who glorifies and magnifies all of creation, including us as we allow.” God comes as close to us as possible, in this life, without His presence becoming a painful burning. In other words, God is experienced as burning by those in a state of sin, and as joyful light by those in a state of grace. If God were to approach us with more presence than we could handle at that moment, it would indeed be a burning rather than a joy.

Author Rumer Godden says that “one of the good things about the Catholic church is that it isn’t respectable. You can find anyone in it, from duchesses to whores, from tramps to kings.” The ‘judgmental church person’ is too busy judging themselves and their own sins to care about judging the newcomer at Mass. The people at Mass are hopefully the people who are most aware of their own sins. That is, hopefully, why they are there. One is reminded of the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Or sometimes, “the sinner.”

Christ says in the Gospel of John: “Without Me, you can do nothing.” For as Saint Paul later writes in First Corinthians, God’s weakness is greater than our strength. The people at Mass are hopefully the people who most recognize themselves as sinners. These people are there because they are actively trying to better themselves through God’s weakness, not their own strength, which is itself a stance toward life that is unknowing.

Bishop Robert Barron’s The Mass: Reflection Three

“They’ve been sacramentalized, but never truly evangelized. Having never quite experienced that cognitive moment of encounter with Christ,” says Bishop Robert Barron. Building someone up through the Catholic intellectual tradition to give them a propositional, idea-based encounter with Christ is good, but a real encounter with Christ, especially through the Church’s ritual, is much more than intellectual. A real encounter with Christ is done through the nous.

Nous is the Greek word which we translate as heart, sometimes as intellect. Nous is a combination of the heart and mind, but nous is also a direct, intuitive perception of spiritual reality. A perception which is not intellectual. It is a seeing with the heart, entering directly into relationship with God.

Nous reminds us: “We can do nothing perfectly of ourselves, but much can be achieved through us, if we are open conduits to the workings of God.” The limited condition of humanity leads us into thinking we know better than God. But clearly the Infinite can see our life more clearly than we can. That is why we should lead with nous. The nous is how we allow the Spirit to dwell in us. Becoming conduits for the work of the Word, more so than being the fruits of our own thought.

“‘In the beginning was the Word,’ writes John in his Gospel. We are attending to a God who actually speaks—who actually communicates. The creation of the world was formed on the force of God’s Word—spoken into being, ‘thought into being’ as it were, and there is an eternal call-and-response extent within creation.”

In our reading, we find that “God forms his people and [sends] the patriarchs and the prophets forward. ‘The Divine Voice is becoming clearer, more focused, more intelligible.’ [The Divine Voice] speaks to us from ancient days until today, and brings forth the Word Made Flesh, who is Christ Jesus.” There is a growing clarity emerging from paganism, extending through the Old Testament that ultimately culminates in the person of Christ.

Saint Irenaeus fought against Marcion of Sinope for the inclusion of the Old Testament in the Bible, which brings in the Jewish scriptures. This makes the figure of Christ even more complex. Not only does Christ’s mercy cast light back through the Old Testament, but the Old Testament God’s strength casts forward onto the dying Savior. With both Testaments, we are given a more complete picture of right praise.

In terms of right praise, “the Father speaks his Word (the Son) and that Word is interpreted by the Holy Spirit.” That statement leads us into the debate between objective revelation and personal interpretation. This is one of the main points of contention between Catholics and Orthodox, when compared to some Protestants, with Catholics holding that the Church’s interpretation is authoritative.

So, in Catholic Mass, during the Liturgy of the Word, we are participating in what Bishop Barron calls “the story of our being drawn evermore into the right praise of God.” As our reading states, that is “the great narrative we all belong to.”

In this Liturgy of the Word, the Psalm follows a moment of silence. One must remember Christ’s words on the cross: “My God, My God, why have you forsaken Me?” Those words are from Psalm 22, which ends with the line: “They shall come, and shall declare His righteousness to a people that shall be born, that He has done this.” There is an image of resurrection here, as Orthodox thinker Jonathan Pageau notes, and an image of the birth of the Church. It is the Man-God who speaks these words from the cross, echoing the human despair and range of emotions found in the Psalms.

“‘They knew Him,’ marvels Bishop Barron, ‘and our faith comes not from abstract speculation, it comes not from deductive reasoning, it comes not from mythology.’ It comes, rather from ‘this little band of twelve that gathered around Jesus and knew him.’” Our reading states that “the faith of the Church is apostolic, not some vague spirituality.” Meaning that “the Christian faith is not a privately-generated, religious philosophy, rather it is the fruit of the apostolic witness.”

Bishop Robert Barron’s The Mass: Reflection Four

Bishop Barron tells the story of learning to play baseball and how the coach had the kids first get to know the grass. As there’s much more going on in life than propositional statements about reality. Christianity is not primarily a philosophical system, but a real encounter with the Living God.

In reference to the baseball coach, Bishop Barron says, “We need a good mystagogue, a guide, someone who will move us through the thicket of the biblical world, helping us to understand it and then see our relationship to it. We need, in a word, a preacher; we need a homilist.”

Mystagogy is a Greek term, meaning “to lead through the mysteries.” A mystagogue is someone who helps us with scriptural interpretation, but in a way that shows us the practical application.

Author Matthieu Pageau notes: “If you know the Bible very well and you understand the stories, you might start to discover that the patterns that are described in the Bible are also happening to you. All the time. Whether you want it or not, by the way.” For, as our reading says, “once people have seen how their lives are illumined by the Biblical pattern, they will want to make their lives a living sacrifice of praise to God.”

Our reading talks of the apostle Philip in the Book of Acts, where he is reading a quote taken from Isaiah: “Like a sheep he was led to slaughter, and as a lamb before its shearer is silent, so he opened not his mouth. In his humiliation, justice was denied him. Who will tell of his posterity? For his life is taken from the earth.” Philip brought that quote to an Ethiopian who was open to Christ.

In this way, Philip was a mystagogue for the Ethiopian as the apostle “went beyond scriptural expositions into dynamic witness, and it was the combination of the two that filled the Ethiopian with a desire to proclaim Christ himself through becoming baptized, thereby beginning a lifelong engagement with mystery through an encounter of intimacy.”

Propositional knowledge, thinking about ideas, and using words is fine, but as the cognitive scientist John Vervaeke points out, there are other forms of knowledge, such as playing a sport, which are not strictly about ideas. The Catholic Mass, with its focus on the body, offers us an experience which is more than words. We also cannot describe the experience of Mass in only words. Because an encounter with the Word made Flesh demands the entirety of the person.

Bishop Barron teaches us how every baptized person, whether male or female, is a “Priest, Prophet and King.” That idea is inspired by the First Letter of Saint Peter, where we find that those who are in Christ are a “royal priesthood.” Protestants often hold that phrase to mean that anyone can be a minister, and confession through a priest is not necessary.

But as Orthodox thinker Jonathan Pageau points out, the phrase ‘royal priesthood’ is “referring to a verse in the Old Testament in which it says that Israel is a nation of priests. Now, what Peter is doing is applying it to Christians. He’s saying, like Israel was a nation of priests, so too now this priesthood is extended to all those that enter into Christ; they are now Israel for all intents and purposes. But in the Old Testament, the phrase didn’t mean that everybody was a priest in terms of function.”

This distinction between function and identity is crucial, especially in how we understand the priest’s role within the liturgy. Pope Benedict XVI stated, for example, that “whenever applause breaks out in the liturgy because of some human achievement, it is a sure sign that the essence of liturgy has totally disappeared and been replaced by a kind of religious entertainment.” If there is applause, we are applauding the priest as the individual he is, the man, rather than noticing that he is a representative of Christ on earth.

Our reading has the story of the adulteress whom Christ does not condemn. For Christ does not condemn anyone, as the writer John Marsh notes. It is each individual’s choice in how they respond to the reality of Christ, accepting or rejecting Christ, which either frees or condemns a person.

The story of Christ not condemning the adulteress, who accepts Christ, shows the reader that we are “forced into a recognition of self that severs any lingering attachment to a judgmental mob mentality … we too must express gratitude for mercy.” Because we also are “both liable to right judgment,” and “the beneficiaries of unearned mercy.” We have our own sins to focus on. And as Christ says, with a phrase to echo forever: Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.

During the Mass, in response to us having heard the Word spoken through the Gospel, we move on to a request. Bishop Barron notes: “Having heard all you have done, Lord, having sensed that we’re a part of that story, now we have the confidence to stand up and ask, ‘Lord, may you do something just as great for us.’” Protestant pastor Paul Vander Klay says that we honour a king by making a kingly request.

Sometimes we should ask for the impossible, from the King of Kings.

Bishop Robert Barron’s The Mass: Reflection Five

In the Eucharistic Prayer, we are “lifting up our hearts to the mountaintop and beyond to heaven.” As there is always a symbolic relationship between mountains and heaven. Bishop Barron notes how “‘the Garden of Eden, in the poetic imagination of the author of Genesis, was a mountain.” We know that because the rivers flow forth from it, from a height.

“Where was the Law given, but on Mount Sinai? Where was the Temple built, but on Mount Zion? Where was the Transfiguration? On Mount Tabor. Where was the Crucifixion? On Mount Calvary. Mountains are places of heightened consciousness, where humanity and divinity meet.’ When we say we are lifting our hearts, we are going up the Holy Mountain. ‘We’re going to the place of sacrifice, where Christ draws all people, all creation, to himself.’”

We see how in the Preparation of the Gifts “The same way that a new baby represents the co-creative consent and co-operation of a married couple with the will of God, the bread and wine represent our co-creative co-operation with the Creator and with the fullness of all that he has made.” Here we are reminded of J.R.R. Tolkien’s term sub-creation, which he uses to talk about us being sub-creators beneath God. God gives Adam His work, tending the Garden of Eden. God has the priest consecrate the bread and wine and make a miracle happen; God ‘uses’ us.

During Mass, collection baskets are sent out to gather donations. “We should not think of the collection of money as some sort of banal, dirty, but necessary affair. Money is our work. Money is hours of our lives. And now we give it away, we sacrifice for it, for the work of the Church.” The Church uses our donations for the Church’s “work of charity and evangelization.”

Our donations “communicate a message of constancy and commitment to the mission. Collectively, they say ‘let this work, this announcement of salvation through the death and resurrection of the Christ go on, let our outreach to our neighbors continue and expand, let our church workers be enabled to feed their families and pay their bills so they can remain in place, for stability, let our buildings be safe, suitable dwellings fit for worship and fellowship and communion, and attractive enough to invite seekers.’”

And as our reading notes, in a sense, our donations are us, “in the measure with which we dare to give ourselves to [God].” Monetary sacrifices remind us of how “Cain and Abel make burnt offerings to the Lord, each setting aside a portion of their productivity (of grain and flock, respectively) to the Lord as an act of praise, gratitude, and humility.”

Then, in the context of the Eucharist, “all our gifts and sacrifices are returned to us changed, made better, transformed through the action of God. In Genesis, we saw Cain making an offering of cereal to the Lord, while Abel offered flesh, which was the better offering. [In the Mass, the priest has] offered bread made of grain, [but] it will be made into a better offering of flesh.” Yet Cain became resentful, shaking his fist at God, when it was Cain’s own fault that he offered a lesser sacrifice than Abel did.

Christ has a parable about the nature of proper sacrifice, something which Cain did not do: “A poor widow also came and put in two small coins worth a few cents. Calling his disciples to himself, he said to them, ‘Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury. For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood’” (Mark 12:41-44).

Therefore, we must remember, as Saint Bernadette points out, “God is never outdone in generosity.” Our reading shows us how the lives of saints are often in agreement, in noticing that “the catalyst for a continual increase in blessings begins with giving portions of oneself away—of making sacrifices both large and small, always trusting God. ‘Your being increases in the measure that you give it away,’ [Saint] John Paul said. He called it ‘the law of the gift.’”

Bishop Barron says that “to be filled with God is to be filled with love, which is to say, self-emptying. The moment we receive something of the divine grace, we should make of it a gift, and then we will receive more of the divine grace. In a word, our being will increase in the measure that we give it away. This is the water welling up to eternal life that Jesus speaks of.”

Bishop Robert Barron’s The Mass: Reflection Six

“God’s word does not describe, it creates.” And Christ is God’s Word. Which means that the statements Christ makes, about the Eucharist, or about the sacrament of confession being conferred only to the apostles and their successors, these statements cannot be watered down or taken away because God’s Word creates reality.

God’s Word creates, which might be why Western Christianity added the filioque to the Nicene Creed. Filioque is a Latin word which means ‘and the Son.’ So the changed Creed is: “the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son.” However, it’s also perfectly Catholic to say “through the Son.” The Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father through the Son.

The Word, the Son, is the ‘processional instrument’ of God. The Father uses the Word to create all things at the beginning of time; including time itself. Now the Holy Spirit is not a created thing, but He is also not begotten. The Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father. However, for anything to exist—and ‘thing’ here does not mean created object—perhaps ‘it’ must proceed, be ‘created,’ through the Word. So the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father, through the Son.

In the Mass, the Trinity is present and “God wants to feed people with his very life.” Christ says: “I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna in the desert, but they died; this is the bread that comes down from heaven so that one may eat it and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.”

And “‘the Eucharist is the tie that binds us to everybody else.’ Says Bishop Barron, both on earth and in heaven—saints, angels, and martyrs included.” Communion is community. That was especially true historically, as the Church was the gathering of the entire village and the saints.

Author Matthieu Pageau notes how, when things are complex, they appear to us as clouds or darkness. But when things are extremely simple, those ideas are often so fundamental to our perception that we have trouble seeing them. Things can be so clear that we see right through them. And in the course of the Mass, “the ‘cloud of unknowing’ is about to dissipate.”

But it can be hard to see that we are really going to be eating Christ’s body and drinking his blood. When the Word speaks, God creates: “Jesus said to them, ‘Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you.’”

Now, “the Council of Trent affirmed that [the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist] occurs, by the power of the words spoken [by the priest, who is acting in the person of Christ]. The words of Jesus as God become what is. ‘Daughter, your faith has healed you,’ and a woman is healed. ‘Lazarus, come forth,’ and a dead man walks out of his tomb. ‘Little girl, arise,’ and a child returns to her family. When the Second Person of the Trinity says, ‘You will be with me in Paradise,’ there is cause for rejoicing because it is an assured reality. When he says, ‘Behold your mother,’ his mother becomes our own.”

Christ also talks about how “faith ‘the size of a mustard seed’ can move mountains.” Here, Christ is speaking metaphorically. Although perhaps if a person really did have enough faith, God would move a mountain for that person. Much as the Red Sea was parted. The point is that even a small amount of being able to stand on God, to trust in God, is enough for radical change. One can think of examples of strong faith leading to radical change, such as Mary’s “yes”.

Then “the priest, recalling Christ’s words, ‘I leave my peace, my peace I give to you,’ brings to mind the great ‘Shalom’ with which the Resurrected Christ greeted the apostles.” For God is peace. Even after being murdered, as Saint Paul notes, “the God we killed returned to us ‘in forgiving love.’” We can only find true rest in that God of love, as Saint Augustine tells us.

God’s word creates reality, and the Logos is relationship. Therefore, Christ is really present in the Mass. Pope Benedict XVI wrote, while still Joseph Ratzinger, “Christ exists from the Father and for mankind.” Christ’s whole being is for other people. His work and being are the same thing.

Bishop Robert Barron’s The Mass: Final Reflection

“Soon there comes a profound quietness—a brief instant of peace ‘beyond all understanding’ so authentic, so true, that even children seem to recognize it.” As the priest holds the Eucharist high for an Eternity. Abbot Jeremy Driscoll notes how “something is hidden under the appearance of the bread and wine. Faith perceives it.” And “after the celebrant elevates both Body and Blood so that we may see and adore, he will genuflect in adoration before them both, and solemnly declare, ‘The mystery of faith.’”

Heaven and earth have been reconciled in Christ. He is the New Adam, the perfect mediator between God and humanity. We are called to be unifiers of heaven and earth. Christ does that, offering Himself as a perfect sacrifice as only God can, which opens the doorway that He is, for us to become God, as much as it is possible for humans to do so—to use the saying of Saint Maximus the Confessor—because Christ is fully human, a bridge.

“‘This theme of eating and drinking with the Lord runs right through the Bible,’ Bishop Barron says, ‘calling to mind God’s instructions to Adam and Eve that they eat; his order that the Hebrews enslaved in Egypt eat a Passover meal; Isaiah’s vision of the heavenly banquet; Jesus sharing meals with priests, Pharisees and tax collectors; the Last Supper; and the first Masses as they are described in the Acts of the Apostles and in the Epistles.’”

There is also Abram, who has his wife, Sarai, set the table for the three strangers, who turn out to be angels, for it is said that through proper hospitality, some have unknowingly entertained angels, which can and does happen in Mass, too. However, we can become aware of that reality.

“God doesn’t need sacrifice. Therefore, it comes back to us. Now, we are going to eat and drink the Body and Blood of Christ, which we have offered to the Father,” Bishop Barron says. So sacrifices which are given up return to us in a more pure form, as Orthodox thinker Jonathan Pageau notes.

Now it’s time to enter fully into the mystery of the Mass: Communion.

Our reading points out, how sometimes after receiving the Eucharist, people will cover their faces in prayer: “The Reality of Christ within the Eucharist—the idea of the Son of God willingly enduring an unjust, terrible death to share in his broken body with his people that they might rise into Eternity with him—that’s a lot to take in.”

In due time, “the Mass is ended. Everything has been said; a sacrifice has been made; a meal has been eaten. It is finished. (Jn 19:30).” The Latin which the priest, or deacon, would say at the end of Mass is: Ite, missa est. A literal translation would be “Go, it is sent.” For “once Noah’s Ark came upon land, Noah opened the doors and shooed out the animals. He ‘let the life out,’ as Barron puts it. It was necessary to do so in order to renew the face of the earth.” So, “we too now must go to let the life of Christ within us out in order to renew the face of the earth, one encounter at a time.”

In the Mass, as Bishop Barron notes, “‘We are gathered, we are fed, and finally we are sent’ back out into the world to evangelize.” Sometimes, it’s the relationships and how other people perceive the Christian after interacting with them that serve as the evangelization.

Pope Benedict XVI writes about the end of the Mass: “Ite, missa est. These words help us to grasp the relationship between the Mass just celebrated and the mission of Christians in the world. In antiquity, missa simply meant ‘dismissal.’ However, in Christian usage it gradually took on a deeper meaning. The word ‘dismissal’ has come to imply a ‘mission.’ These few words succinctly express the missionary nature of the Church.” God trusts us with His work on earth.

We leave the Mass and embark on a life of evangelization, whatever that looks like in our individual lives, remembering the Sacrifice of Praise: “Trusting in and praising God under all circumstances; surrendering your free will to God’s will for your life.” That’s what we learn to embody, not think, through the Mass. Standing on, and trusting in, the Ground of Being.

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Dan Sherven is the author of four books, including the number one bestseller Classified: Off the Beat ‘N Path and Uncreated Light. Sherven is also an award-winning journalist, writing for several publications. Find Sherven’s work.

I recently wrote an article titled “Jesus is Tempted in the Desert,” as a Lenten Reflection for the Catholic Archdiocese of Regina in Saskatchewan, Canada. I also posted the article on The Symbolic World website. There was a comment about whether or not Christ can be tempted. The comment essentially says that because Christ is God, he cannot be tempted. Further, that Christ cannot be two persons. With the human person being tempted, but the divine person not being tempted.

The two natures of Christ, human and divine, do not indicate two persons. Christ is tempted in his human nature. But he can’t be tempted in his divine nature. Yet this view is not Nestorianism. With Nestorianism being the heresy that Christ “has two loosely united persons, rather than a single divine person with both natures.” So Christ is tempted in his human nature, but not tempted as God. The human nature and will, are brought into alignment with the divine nature and will.

Jesus Christ remains the Truth as God. Christ is the Truth as a human will and human nature, perfectly united in submission to his divine will and nature. He is fully God and fully man. Jesus Christ, the Logos, is the Truth as one person.

The overall criticism veers toward monophysitism, which is “a Christological doctrine that asserts Jesus Christ possessed only one divine nature, rejecting the idea of two natures (divine and human) as established by the Council of Chalcedon in 451.” The criticism is trying to equate person (Greek: hypostasis) with nature—and then claiming that the two natures theology is equating person (Greek: hypostasis) with nature.

There is also monothelitism, a heresy prevalent in the Byzantine Empire during the 7th century—which might be the more accurate label for the overall criticism. That heresy insists that Christ only had a divine will. But most Christian churches are in agreement: Christ had both a human will and a divine will. So two natures, two wills.

Ultimately, how the two natures and wills of fully God and fully man interact, that’s going to remain a mystery. It is logically impossible, in a sense, as the Trinity is. But with both examples, the evidence is largely in the reality. The evidence is in the knowledge and experience which the theory affords. Is a cup one cup or many atoms? Is it a logical impossibility that the cup should be both? But the cup is both. Both levels of reality—the two natures of Christ, or the One and Three of the Trinity—afford a whole series of other beliefs which do work within the strict confines of reason. The assumptions about the ‘one and the many,’ about how multiplicity and unity fit together, largely come before we act. We have to assume we can drink from the multiplicity of atoms, which are simultaneously the singular object of the cup, before we grab the cup to drink. One and Three. Fully God, fully man.

Why was Christ in anguish in the Garden of Gethsemane—not wanting to go the cross? It seems like a struggle of the human will and nature—a struggle about bringing the human will and nature into alignment with the divine will and nature. But again it’s mysterious. A worry of the criticism might be: that being tempted means there is a possibility to give into desire. Perhaps the possibility is there, as a man, and that possibility is rejected as soon as it emerges. That would be very human and divine. If we don’t allow for that possibility, the possibility that the human will and nature would not fall into alignment with the divine will and nature: Christ’s temptation in the desert, and possibly even his anguish in the Garden of Gethsemane—both of these are appearances and not fully real.

They are for show because the human nature and will are not fully real, there is no possibility that there will be disobedience. It is predetermined that the divine will and nature will override. Even though in a sense, that is true. This is where we run into the mystery. But Christ was both tempted and able to instantly reject that temptation.

Say there was another immediate and possibly even greater temptation, like in the story of Christ being tempted. Those subsequent temptations, which could be even stronger versions of the first temptation, are also instantly rejected.

The possibility to give-in remains, in a sense, as a man. But that possibility is instantly rejected as the Man-God. That allows for the human temptation to exist, without compromising God being all-good. And that is perhaps as close as we can get to the mystery: fully God, fully man. Christ was fully human, including temptation.

Otherwise, both of these moments about the humanity of Jesus are an act. There never was a potential discord between the human nature and will, and the divine nature and will. Which would make sense if monophysitism or monothelitism were true; the heresies about Christ’s natures and wills. There’s also a ghost in the body, God in a human shell aspect to the overall criticism. Which is Gnostic. (A view about physical reality being bad, in comparison to spiritual reality.) Or the criticism can present as a Nestorian two persons; God in a machine. The middle position of Chalcedon, balanced on a knife’s edge—two natures united in one person—is the only way out of these problems. It’s the only way for Christ’s suffering to be truly real.

Why did Christ ask why his Father had forsaken him, on the cross? That also raises similar ideas. So what are we to make of Christ’s suffering? God cannot suffer, but Christ did, in his human nature. Christ was fully human, which includes suffering and even being tempted by Satan. Now the objection might be that Christ was not fallen.

Adam was not fallen, yet Adam was able to be tempted, and even chose to sin. Christ was tempted in his human nature and instantly brought that nature into alignment with his divine nature—instantly rejecting the temptation. Christ’s person is two natures and two wills. The human nature and will, in perfect submission to the divine nature and will. Fully human, including temptation, and fully divine—instantly rejecting that temptation. He doesn’t entertain the temptation. He recognizes the temptation and instantly rejects it.

What would it mean for us, if Christ was not fully human—even to the point of being tempted? If Christ is not fully man—except for sin—then we are not fully saved. To be tempted is not the same as to sin. But to be tempted is human. One can be tempted by demons, or even Satan in the wilderness, and maintain perfect grace. The temptation can arise—given from a demon to a human—and be instantly rejected.

Christ made a perfect rejection of all temptation. But the temptation was still there. The Man-God Jesus Christ was still tempted by Satan in the desert. Christ was tempted in his human nature and will, but chose to submit that human nature and will to the divine. So even in being tempted, Christ never compromises being fully God.

The possibility to give-in, was instantly rejected by the Deified human being.

That is perhaps as close as we can get to the mystery. Fully God, fully man.

To be tempted is perfectly human. To instantly reject that temptation is divine. Jesus Christ showed us in perfect humanity, that we can remain steadfast in grace, as humans—even if it’s Satan, tempting us in the desert.

God’s grace is always sufficient.

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Dan Sherven is the author of four books, including the number one bestseller Classified: Off the Beat ‘N Path and Uncreated Light. Sherven is also an award-winning journalist, writing for several publications. Find Sherven’s work.

The Orthodox Church is the second-largest church in the world. There are around 230 million baptized Orthodox Christians; with many Orthodox Christians living in Eastern Europe. There is no central authority, such as the Pope. Although, the Patriarch of Constantinople is considered primus inter pares or “first among equals.’ A title which Catholicism gives to the Pope.

The Orthodox Church views both Sacred Scripture and Holy Tradition as authoritative. And the Orthodox Church can trace its bishops back to the Apostles. The Orthodox Church also has seven sacraments, believes in the Real Presence of the Eucharist, and venerates Mary as Theotokos. Which is Greek and means “God-bearer” or “Mother of God.”

Until the Great Schism of 1054, which was based on both political and theological issues, the Orthodox Church was one with the Catholic Church. Many of the Eastern Church Fathers are venerated both by the Orthodox Church and the Catholic Church.

Many Catholics do not know how similar the Orthodox Church is to the Catholic Church. Vatican II teaches about that relationship. One of the Council documents Unitatis Redintegratio, or the Decree on Ecumenism, has a section specifically about the Orthodox Church.

“The Churches of the East have had a treasury from which the Western Church has drawn extensively — in liturgical practice, spiritual tradition, and law.” The document also acknowledges that “it was the ecumenical councils held in the East that defined the basic dogmas of the Christian faith, on the Trinity, on the Word of God Who took flesh of the Virgin Mary.”

And that section, The Special Consideration of the Eastern Churches, continues: “These [Orthodox] Churches, although separated from us, possess true sacraments, above all by apostolic succession, the priesthood and the Eucharist, whereby they are linked with us in closest intimacy.” The Council Fathers even say that “some worship in common (communicatio in sacris), given suitable circumstances and the approval of Church authority, is not only possible but to be encouraged.”

The Orthodox Church uses the liturgy of Saint John Chrysostom and allows for married clergy. So Vatican II notes how “from the earliest times the Eastern Churches followed their own forms of ecclesiastical law and custom, which were sanctioned by the approval of the Fathers of the Church, of synods, and even of ecumenical councils.”

The different Church customs could be a barrier to reunification, but Vatican II says that to remove “all shadow of doubt, this holy Council solemnly declares that the Churches of the East, while remembering the necessary unity of the whole Church, have the power to govern themselves according to the disciplines proper to them, since these are better suited to the character of their faithful, and more for the good of their souls.”

Section 17 of the document recommends a more universal view of the Church: “In the study of revelation East and West have followed different methods, and have developed differently their understanding and confession of God's truth.

“In such cases, these various theological expressions are to be considered often as mutually complementary rather than conflicting … Thus they promote the right ordering of Christian life and, indeed, pave the way to a full vision of Christian truth. All this heritage of spirituality and liturgy, of discipline and theology, in its various traditions, this holy synod declares to belong to the full Catholic and apostolic character of the Church.”

In general, the Catholic Church would like to see the Orthodox Church more fully recognize the Primacy of Peter. Meaning, that the Catholic Church would like the Orthodox Church to enter again into full communion with the Bishop of Rome, the Pope. Still, Vatican II repeats what has come before from the Catholic Church — “for the restoration or the maintenance of unity and communion it is necessary ‘to impose no burden beyond what is essential.’”

Which could look like the Orthodox Church recognizing the Pope, but not having the West impose customs on the East. Whether those customs are about liturgy, clergy, or even some theological issues. It could be a situation similar to the Eastern Catholic Churches; such as the Ukrainian (Greek) Catholic Church, which maintains the Eastern Rite but is in full communion with the Pope.

Perhaps as a necessity before the End of the Age — as Orthodox thinker Jonathan Pageau notes, while talking about the Papacy with Catholic Bishop Robert Barron — we will see the reunification of the Catholic Church with the ‘separated brethren’ of the Orthodox Church.

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Dan Sherven is the author of four books, including the number one bestseller Classified: Off the Beat ‘N Path and Uncreated Light. Sherven is also an award-winning journalist, writing for several publications. Find Sherven’s work.

There’s a lot of confusion, even among devout Catholics, as to what is meant by the idea that the bread and wine transform into the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Many faithful Catholics still hold a scientific worldview, when it comes to what’s happening in the Mass. That’s where much of the interest around Eucharistic miracles originates from—claims that the bread at Mass has human DNA. The Church holds a different idea; even though some of those miracles could be real.

The real idea of transubstantiation, entirely transcends the limited—but very useful in certain circumstances; such as medicine or physics—scientific worldview. Science is only one form of knowledge. A person need only look to the experience of love, to know that the material explanation of oxytocin as a bonding chemical doesn’t fully explain the phenomenon of love.

Even people who would say that such a scientific explanation is sufficient, don’t act as it if that explanation is sufficient. They still fall in love and make decisions based on love—not decisions which are scientifically based; not decisions based on the scientific method, about love.

Saint John the Evangelist says God is love. Because God, love, transubstantiation—all of these things are outside the bounds of scientific knowledge. Science is not the only way for human beings to know something, even though science is extremely useful and compatible with faith.

The Latin phrase for the ‘Body of Christ’ is Corpus Christi. It can refer to what Christ said about the body and blood, the bread and wine at the Last Supper. Or it can refer to the mystical congregation of all people in the Church, united in a mystical body with Christ as the head.

The first sense is found in Luke 22:19-20. In reference to the bread, Christ says “This is my body.” The second sense is found in 1 Corinthians 12:12-14. There, Saint Paul talks about how all those who are in the Church are “in Christ.”

Some Protestant groups consider the words of Jesus at the Last Supper, to refer to only a symbol. The bread and wine are only a symbol of Jesus’ body and blood. The Catholics and Orthodox disagree, and hold that at a non-scientific and metaphysical level, there is a transformation of the bread and wine into the actual body and blood of Jesus Christ of Nazareth; the Second Person of the Holy Trinity; the Logos Incarnate; the Word Become Flesh.

The transformation—transubstantiation is the word used, means the ‘essence’ has changed. The bread is now the Body of Christ, which is why Catholics kneel in the direction of the bread before sitting down in a pew. It really is the Body of Christ, once the priest speaks the words of consecration. None of that means that a microscope would find human DNA in the bread. Because the claim is about a metaphysical change of essence. It’s held to be a miracle.

To the human eye and the tools of science, nothing has changed about the bread. But at a deeper level of reality, to which science has no access and human beings can only interact with through faith, there’s been a fundamental change of essence. So the substance has changed, transubstantiation, but in the ancient use of the word ‘substance’. It originally meant something closer to essence. Now when people hear the word substance, they think of a material and scientific—physical, reality. But that is not what is happening, nor is that what is meant.

The philosopher Aristotle used the terms ‘substance’ and ‘accident,’ then Saint Thomas Aquinas used those terms himself, to write about transubstantiation. One could think of a chair—where the accident is the wood, and the substance is the idea or essence of what makes a chair a chair.

But by the time of the Protestant Reformation—when Aquinas’ view of transubstantiation was being rejected—the meaning of the word ‘substance’ had moved from meaning essence, to meaning what it does now: the physical properties observable under a microscope. So in a sense, the word substance had taken on the meaning of the word accident. Which is to say, that Saint Thomas Aquinas would have rejected that new, scientific and physical meaning of transubstantiation too—the meaning which the Reformers were reading back into Aquinas.

Often when Catholics hear that the bread is actually, or really, or truly, or literally, the body and blood of Jesus Christ—Catholics think there is a scientific and physical change of the bread. Which goes to show that even many devout Catholics—primarily view reality through the lens of a scientism—as though science is the only form of knowledge we have.

With Aristotle, the ‘substance’ is the essence and the ‘accident’ is the material reality. The material reality remains, the bread—scientifically observable—but because the substance has changed, the essence is no longer bread, but is now the Body of Christ.

To avoid all the confusion of these terms, it’s often said that the real presence of Christ is in the Eucharist. That’s another way of saying that the essence has changed. It does not mean something scientific or physical has changed. Even though that could possibly happen, as an additional miracle; over and above transubstantiation.

So the priest presents the essence to the believer and says “the Body of Christ.” And because of the changed essence, the believer says “Amen.” The believer is not agreeing that the bread has scientifically and physically changed; or that the bread now has human DNA in it.

Rather, the believer is agreeing that metaphysically—at a level of reality beyond the physical world—the substance, the essence of the bread, is now the body, blood, soul, and divinity of Jesus Christ.

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This article was originally written as part of Dan Sherven’s forthcoming book on video games and Christian symbolism. You can read some of those chapters here.

Many of the ideas which served as background for this article, are indebted to Dr. Brett Salkeld’s book Transubstantiation: Theology, History, and Christian Unity. He has also spoken on YouTube about that book.

Dan Sherven is the author of four books, including the number one bestseller Classified: Off the Beat ‘N Path and Uncreated Light. Sherven is also an award-winning journalist, writing for several publications. Find Sherven’s work.

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Imagination does not breed insanity. Exactly what does breed insanity is reason. Poets do not go mad; but chess players do. — G.K. Chesterton

It’s not so much that an insane person has no reason. Rather the problem is that the person only has reason. Clearly there are flaws with that idea, particularly when one looks into a mental illness like schizophrenia. Because there is more going on than the witty comment of Chesterton. But there is a ray of truth to what he is saying.

If all a person has is reason, they cannot operate in the world. Love doesn’t actually make sense if one only has reason. At best, a person has to come up with a whole theory of how human beings are evolved to help each other and how our survival as individuals is dependent on other people liking us—so much so that we act against our own self-interest, in order to ‘love’ others.

A martyr is a good example of real love. A martyr does not operate from the perspective of pure reason, or from a purely self-interested evolutionary approach. Instead, he or she allows their life to end in order to help others; putting his or her love for God before even themselves.

One could argue that people sacrifice themselves in martyrdom, because humans are uniquely aware of the future and death; and our intelligence allows us to conceptualize our reputation past death. That’s ultimately why people are willing to give up their lives for others. But that’s not really love. It’s only a veiled self-interest.

That kind of selfish reasoning does make some sense, within the strict confines of evolution. But it doesn’t make a lot of sense if one has experienced love. A person who chooses to die, so that others may fully live, is acting out of real love. That person is acting out of a supernatural force; to see another person flourish. The Catholic Bishop Robert Barron defines love, while drawing on the writings of the 13^th century theologian Saint Thomas Aquinas, as choosing ‘to will the good of the other.’

Maybe that is the best definition of love. Praying for one’s enemies, something which is often never even recognized by the person being prayed for; or choosing to forgive those who have objectively done us wrong. These are the acts of real love which redeem the world from evil and suffering. Bishop Robert Barron says that accordingly: real love is a rare thing.

Christ offers Himself up as the perfect sacrifice for everyone who ever lived or will live; out of His infinite love for the Father. An Infinite Love which is the Holy Spirit. Christ perfectly does the will of the Father, meaning that Christ is fully self-sacrificing. He’s always willing the good of the other; and that includes the good of the Father. That perfect love which casts out all fear, is how we step into the Life of the Trinity.

The University of Toronto cognitive scientist John Vervaeke, when speaking of agape which is one of the Greek words used for love in the New Testament, says agape is the superpower which transformed the ancient world. Agape is a “more excellent way” as Saint Paul says.

Vervaeke notes how agape is the superpower which turned all the non-persons of the Roman Empire into full persons. All the slaves, women, widows, children, orphans—these people could only become full persons through agape. So Christ did conquer the Roman Empire; it just took three centuries.

The culture war which the West is experiencing, is largely a Christian civil war; as Protestant Pastor Paul Vander Klay has alluded to. We are arguing about Christian values; with the left taking the agapic stance of caring for the marginalized, while the right gives agapic attention to a forgotten center (the center being the opposite of the marginal groups).

Agapic love is one example of acting in faith, rather than living purely on reason. Love is the most important example of having faith. Faith is the “evidence of things not seen,” as Saint Paul writes. There always has to be a gap between our reason and reality. It’s in that gap that faith operates. Faith and reason combine for knowledge. They are not contradictory.

Love is a faithful trusting in Reality. The existence of love, not as a feeling but as an act of the will—most typified in martyrs and Christ Himself—further unravels the entire Enlightenment project of pure reason. Love is not purely explainable through empirical science. As the Catholic philosopher Blaise Pascal writes:

John writes in his Gospel that God is love. Because God is unity and multiplicity together. That is what the Trinity is: Love. Willing the Good of the Other.

Love is the superpower which makes life worth living. To trust in God, which is what faith is—existentially choosing to stand with Love—is the act of real love which makes possible all other acts of love; whether a person intellectually notices that or not. A person who is acting in love, has faith in Reality. That person has chosen to stand with, and bet their life on, Real Love.

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Dan Sherven is the author of four books, including the number one bestseller Classified: Off the Beat ‘N Path and Uncreated Light. Sherven is also an award-winning journalist, writing for several publications. Find Sherven’s work.

Arianism is the belief that Christ was not God, but a ‘created creature,’ with a special status. A kind of demi-god. “There was a time when He [the Son] was not,” so Arius of Alexandria, a fourth century bishop, famously summarized his belief regarding the nature of Jesus Christ; making Christ into a ‘created creature.’

The filioque was added as an anti-Arian clause; seeing as the filioque reinforces Christ’s divinity. So the changed Creed is: “The Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son.”

However, the Eastern Churches who would eventually become the Orthodox after the Great Schism of 1054, did not think the Western Churches had the authority to change the Creed; without an agreement being reached at a Church-wide Council. The East also thought that the introduction of the filioque, disrupted the balance of the Trinity; in the sense that the filioque introduced an attribute shared by the Father and the Son, but not shared by the Holy Spirit.

Pope John Paul II and Pope Benedict XVI have both recited the Nicene Creed at different times, alongside the Orthodox Patriarchs Demetrius I and Bartholomew I, in Greek and without the Popes saying the filioque clause. It was not until 1014 that Pope Benedict VIII had the Mass sung in Rome with the filioque clause for the first time. And there was political pressure to do so, from King Henry II of Germany, who had restored Pope Benedict VIII to the papacy.

The Ukrainian (Greek) Catholic Churches are in communion with Rome, yet retain the Byzantine (Eastern) Rite. They do not have to say the filioque as part of the Creed. Perhaps that could also be applied to the Orthodox Churches, resolving one aspect of the Great Schism between the Catholics and Orthodox. Now, the present writer has theological doubts about the filioque. But this article will attempt to explain and defend the Catholic reasoning for the filioque.

Maybe the best explanation is that the Holy Spirit temporally proceeds from the Son. Because Christ promised the Apostles, that when He ascended to Heaven, He would ask the Father to send the Spirit to the Apostles (John 14:16). But that use of proceed, seems to misuse the meaning of procession from the original Nicene Creed.

Paragraph 1082 of the Catechism of the Catholic Church says: “The Father is acknowledged and adored as the source and the end of all the blessings of creation and salvation … Through his Word, he pours into our hearts the gift that contains all gifts, the Holy Spirit.” Maybe that could apply both temporally and eternally. We could say that the Father is the Source and the Word is the Father’s ‘processional instrument.’

As Jesus Christ the Son, is the Logos which the Father uses at the beginning of time to create everything. The Logos is a Greek word which might be translated as creative reason, truthful speech, and meaning itself. Seeing as that is a lot of ideas, the Logos is often translated into English as the Word. But one has to wonder whether the ‘creation’ of ‘everything,’ through the Logos, applies to the Holy Spirit.

The Holy Spirit is not a created thing, but He is also not begotten. The Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father. But maybe for something to exist—and here ‘thing’ does not only mean created object—perhaps ‘It’ must proceed or be ‘created’ through the Word. (With the Word Itself being exempt, because the Word is begotten.) So, the Holy Spirit eternally proceeds from the Father through the Son. That is a variation of the filioque, which is perfectly Catholic to say. Through the Son. Instead of ‘and the Son.’

The Orthodox theological objection to the filioque, is that the filioque gives the Father and the Son an attribute which the Holy Spirit does not have. And the filioque downplays the role of the Father as Source. In the Trinity, there are things which are either shared by all three Persons—those are essential attributes—and there are things only belonging to one Person, those are personal attributes. Maybe we could get around the problem, by saying that the Holy Spirit eternally proceeds from the Father, and is both eternally and temporally ‘created’ through the Logos.

Now, Saint Gregory Palamas calls the Holy Spirit’s activities in time and space the energies of God. While the Holy Spirit Itself would be the essence of God; and entirely unknowable to humans. The Holy Spirit’s energies are temporally operating, but the Holy Spirit is eternal in His essence.

We must note, that according to Saint Gregory Palamas, the energies and essence of God are both always Trinitarian. Meaning, the whole Godhead is present in the created world, not only the Holy Spirit. However, we can talk about the Holy Spirit as a singular Person, in addressing the filioque problem. Because the Father eternally precedes the Holy Spirit, and the Holy Spirit does not ‘fully’ arrive in the world until Pentecost.

Pentecost is the 50th day after the Resurrection, the day when the Apostles began speaking in ‘tongues of fire’ because the Holy Spirit had descended. Pentecost is the day when the Church was born.

Maybe the essence of the Holy Spirit eternally proceeds from the Father through the Logos. And the Holy Spirit, when speaking of the energies of God, temporally proceeds from the Father through Jesus Christ; to His Apostles at Pentecost.

More on Pentecost to follow.

The Father would still maintain the personal attribute of ‘generation.’ And the Son would retain the personal attribute of being the ‘instrument’ of creation. As John 1:3 says, when speaking of the Logos who became Jesus Christ:

“Through Him all things were made; without Him nothing was made that has been made.” And in Colossians 1:16, Saint Paul writes about the same idea: “For in Him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through Him and for Him.”

With that said, the Holy Spirit is not created. The Holy Spirit is part of the Godhead, and is the “Lord, the Giver of Life,” who hovers over the waters at the beginning of Creation. So the best explanation which the present writer has, in defending the filioque from a Catholic perspective, is to say that the Holy Spirit eternally proceeds from the Father through the Logos. And the Holy Spirit temporally proceeds from the Father through Jesus Christ at Pentecost. That keeps the personal attribute of ‘generation’ with the Father, while the Son is His ‘processional instrument.’

In the Orthodox Philokalia, Saint Gregory of Sinai, a fourteenth century monk, says that “three unfaltering and changeless properties typify the Holy Trinity: unbegottenness, begottenness and procession. The Father is unbegotten and unoriginate; the Son is begotten and also unoriginate; the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father through the Son, as Saint John of Damascus says, and [the Holy Spirit] is equally coeternal.” Saint John of Damascus is a theological doctor in the Catholic tradition (Latin-speaking West), and a Church Father in the Orthodox tradition (Greek-speaking East).

He wrote in the seventh century. Maybe his most important work is An Exact Exposition of the Orthodox Faith. In that book, he says: “We confess that [the Holy Spirit] is manifested and imparted to us through the Son. For He breathed upon His Disciples, says he, and said, Receive the Holy Spirit (John 20:29).

“It is just the same as in the case of the sun from which come both the ray and the radiance (for the sun itself is the source of both the ray and the radiance), and it is through the ray that the radiance is imparted to us, and it is the radiance itself by which we are lightened and in which we participate.”

Here, Saint John of Damascus is writing about how the Resurrected Christ ‘temporally’ breathes the Holy Spirit onto the Apostles, to equip them for the time leading up to Pentecost. Later at Pentecost, the Holy Spirit ‘permanently’ descends upon the Apostles. Maybe the Holy Spirit ‘permanently’ descends through the Son; seeing as Christ said He would ask the Father to send the Spirit to the Apostles.

Perhaps, Saint John of Damascus takes the first temporal procession; before Pentecost, to imply the second temporal procession; at Pentecost—both being through the Son. Or at the least: Saint John of Damascus separately considers both of those events true—then takes the two temporal processions, to imply an earlier and eternal procession through the Logos. The present writer suggests that, because of Saint John of Damascus’ sun metaphor; his use of through the Son; how the Resurrected Christ breathes the Holy Spirit on the Apostles; and because Christ said He would ask the Father to send the Spirit.

It’s reasonable to say that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father through the Logos. Both eternally and temporally. But it’s unfortunate to change something as ancient as the Nicene Creed; especially without a Church-wide Council. And maybe the role of the Father is too downplayed, for some people.

Perhaps the filioque should be optional; a sign of good will to the Orthodox.

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Dan Sherven is the author of four books, including the number one bestseller Classified: Off the Beat ‘N Path and Uncreated Light. Sherven is also an award-winning journalist, writing for several publications. Find Sherven’s work.

“Each individual human being—no matter what their economic status or educational background or where they were born or what their race or gender is—every human being is created by God. More to it, redeemed by Christ. More to it, destined for eternal life. And from those theological convictions, comes this idea that each individual is the subject of dignity.”

On April 8, 2024 the Vatican released Dignitas Infinita, a Declaration on Human Dignity. The Declaration was the result of five years of preparation, undertaken by the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, overseen by Cardinal Víctor Manuel Fernández, and ultimately approved by Pope Francis.

“Every human person possesses an infinite dignity, inalienably grounded in his or her very being, which prevails in and beyond every circumstance, state, or situation the person may ever encounter. This principle, which is fully recognizable even by reason alone, underlies the primacy of the human person and the protection of human rights.

“In the light of Revelation, the Church resolutely reiterates and confirms the ontological [level of Being] dignity of the human person, created in the image and likeness of God and redeemed in Jesus Christ. From this truth, the Church draws the reasons for her commitment to the weak and those less endowed with power, always insisting on [quoting Pope Francis:] ‘the primacy of the human person and the defense of his or her dignity beyond every circumstance.’”

Dignitas Infinita deals with many themes, two of them being gender theory and euthanasia. “Desiring a personal self-determination, as gender theory prescribes, apart from this fundamental truth that human life is a gift, amounts to a concession to the age-old temptation to make oneself God, entering into competition with the true God of love revealed to us in the Gospel.”

The Declaration also mentions how gender theory “intends to deny the greatest possible difference that exists between living beings: sexual difference. This foundational difference is not only the greatest imaginable difference but is also the most beautiful and most powerful of them.”

The document elaborates, quoting Pope Francis: “This ideology ‘envisages a society without sexual differences, thereby eliminating the anthropological basis of the family.’” In the document, Pope Francis also reiterates the Fourteenth Ordinary General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops, in stating that “‘biological sex and the socio-cultural role of sex (gender) can be distinguished but not separated.’”

Dignitas Infinita says that “all attempts to obscure reference to the ineliminable sexual difference between man and woman are to be rejected: [As Pope Francis says] ‘We cannot separate the masculine and the feminine from God’s work of creation, which is prior to all our decisions and experiences, and where biological elements exist which are impossible to ignore.’ Only by acknowledging and accepting this difference in reciprocity can each person fully discover themselves, their dignity, and their identity.”

Additionally, there is a section on sex-changes. “Pope Francis affirmed that ‘creation is prior to us and must be received as a gift. At the same time, we are called to protect our humanity, and this means, in the first place, accepting it and respecting it as it was created.’ It follows that any sex-change intervention, as a rule, risks threatening the unique dignity the person has received from the moment of conception.”

In terms of euthanasia, quoting earlier work done by the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, Dignitas Infinita holds that “human life carries a dignity that must always be upheld, that can never be lost, and that calls for unconditional respect. Indeed, there are no circumstances under which human life would cease from being dignified and could, as a result, be put to an end: ‘Each life has the same value and dignity for everyone: the respect of the life of another is the same as the respect owed to one’s own life.’ 

“Therefore, helping the suicidal person to take his or her own life is an objective offense against the dignity of the person asking for it, even if one would be thereby fulfilling the person’s wish: [As Pope Francis says] ‘We must accompany people towards death, but not provoke death or facilitate any form of suicide. Remember that the right to care and treatment for all must always be prioritized so that the weakest, particularly the elderly and the sick, are never rejected. Life is a right, not death.’”

Dignitas Infinita is available from the Vatican, in a full English translation.

Dan Sherven is the author of four books, including the number one bestseller Classified: Off the Beat ‘N Path and Uncreated Light. Sherven is also an award-winning journalist, writing for several publications. Find Sherven’s work.

What makes something begotten vs. created?

You can read the original article here, but it’s not necessary to read it. Thank you to Aaron on YouTube for asking such a great question.

What makes something begotten vs. created?

The Greek word from which we translate ‘begotten,’ is monogenēs. That Greek word means “being the only one of its kind within a specific relationship,” and/or “being the only one of its kind or class, unique in kind.” So with the “only begotten Son,” or “eternally begotten,” we are talking about a specific kind of identity relationship—unique to the Father and the Son.

But in general, on the human scale, and with the Father and Son, begetting is about a transference of essence. Creating might make something in the same image, but the created thing is not of the same essence as its creator.

Saint Athanasius insists that Christ is of the same substance, meaning essence, as the Father. So while man is made in the image of God—God's essence remains fundamentally unknown to man. That's not the case with Christ, and His relationship to the Father.

Begetting deals with essence; something created lacks the essence of its creator, even if that thing has the image, like man being created in the image of God.

There’s also the necessity of differentiating between the human father begetting a son, and the Father begetting the Son. The human analogy is a good analogy, but it leaves something out, as all analogies do. A human son does not have the same essence as his human father, in the way that the Son has the same essence as the Father. But the human son does kind of have his father’s essence.

So in a sense, the human father both begets and ‘creates’ his son. But the Father only begets the Son—here we are thinking of monogenēs—and we are using the English word ‘begets’ as an analogy when speaking of God.

Because in the Trinity we’re dealing purely with essence, and not creating in the image, both of which happen in the human example. Ultimately, the difference is that begetting is about transference of essence and creating is about making in the image.

Essence is a closer identity claim between two things than image is. In the Trinity, the transference of essence is a 1:1 identity claim; monogenēs. Image is a much further apart identity claim. "Originates from," might be a good way to describe creating in the image of. While essence might be described as "is the same thing."

Here, the human father and human son analogy breaks down. Because a human father is not in a 1:1 identity relationship with his son. Even though that analogy is still useful, because in the created world we don't really see things with a 1:1 identity. But in the Trinity there is a 1:1 identity. And the human father is still closer to his son, in terms of identity, than a man would be to a cross he creates. Even though, both of these are creations; although the human son is also begotten.

The Father eternally begets a 1:1 identity in His Son. But something created lacks that identical identity.

Although—the following are faith claims—the Father is not the Son and the Son is not the Father. The Trinity is a mystery, but if we’re going to try and talk about it with reason, we could say that the Trinity is one essence in three Persons.

So the eternal begetting of the Son, from the Father, is a 1:1 identity claim—but it’s also not a 1:1 identity claim. The Son is and is not the Father, in certain senses—as the Holy Trinity is a faith claim beyond reason. The claim doesn’t make sense in strict mathematical logic. But it does make sense in practice. Love also does not make sense in strict mathematical logic.

Jesus Christ speaks very mysteriously in the Gospel of John, whenever He mentions the identity relationship between Himself and the Father. “I and the Father are one” (John 10:30). “I am in the Father and the Father is in Me” (John 14:11). But Christ also defers to the Father as if the Father is different from the Son. “My Father is greater than I” (John 14:28).

In the Gospel of Mark, after Christ is called good, He says that “No one is good, only God” (Mark 10:8). These last two examples could be partly because Christ is speaking as a human being—speaking as the Son who takes on the limitation of being human, and who is therefore lesser than the Father—but it could also be because the Persons of the Trinity seem to always want to defer to each other’s greatness, because God is love.

So what makes something begotten vs. created?

The difference is about identity. And essence vs. lack of essence. Begotten is a closer identity relationship because of essence. While creating—which is necessarily always in the image of something, even if it is just the image of a man’s idea of a cross—does not carry essence through to the created thing.

A human man both begets and creates his son. The identity relationship in creating, is always less close than in begetting. And the identity claim with the Father eternally begetting the Son, is both a 1:1 identity claim about essence—and not 1:1, but still about essence.

Yet if a person rejects the existence of essence, there is not much I can do. Although, that also means that such a person does not believe in ‘universals,’ meaning categories such as ‘cows.’ That person only believes in individual cows. Again, there is only so much I can do.

In terms of the objection that Christ, because he is human, is created—that is dealt with in the original article. That objection was the Arian heresy.

Saint Thalassios the Libyan, in the Orthodox Philokalia, notes how we can think about “the essence of the Holy Trinity, but [those ideas] do not refer to the essence itself. For the principles of the essence cannot be known by the intellect or expressed in words; they are known only to the Holy Trinity.

All of that is why Saint Gregory Palamas, and Saint Thomas Aquinas—although with different words and different categories—seem to be in agreement that God’s energies are how He acts in the world, while His essence remains fundamentally unknowable to man.

Dan Sherven is the author of four books, including the number one bestseller Classified: Off the Beat ‘N Path and Uncreated Light. Sherven is also an award-winning journalist, writing for several publications. Find Sherven’s work.

“If you knew nothing about science and you read say, the Bible, the Old Testament, which in Genesis is an account of nature. That’s what that is. And I said to you, ‘Give me your description of the natural world, based only on this.’ You would say, ‘The world was created in six days, and that stars are just little points of light, much lesser than the Sun, and that in fact they can fall out of the sky.’ One of the signs of the Second Coming, is that the stars will fall out of the sky and land on Earth. So to even write that means, you don’t know what those things are. You have no concept of what the actual universe is.

“So everybody who tried to make proclamations about the physical universe, based on Bible passages, got the wrong answer. So what happened was, when science discovers things and you want to stay religious — or you want to continue to believe the Bible is unerring — what you would do is you would say, ‘Well let me go back to the Bible and reinterpret it.’ Then you say things like, ‘Oh they didn’t really mean that literally; they meant that figuratively. So this whole sort of reinterpretation, of how figurative the poetic passages of the Bible are, came after science showed that this is not how things unfolded.”

That was taken from a Neil deGrasse Tyson interview clip.

Science is concerned with the questions: how does it work and what is it made of? Ancient people, like the writers and readers of Genesis, were more concerned with the question: what spiritual truth does the story convey? That’s the fundamental difference between the ancient and scientific worldviews. The ancients were concerned with spirit and science is concerned with matter.

If Tyson asked the writers of Genesis if the Creation story is true; scientifically true, materially true, “an account of nature,” they wouldn’t even understand what that question means. Because science — the idea that you can objectively observe material reality and make predictions about material reality — didn’t exist. Partly because there wasn’t a divorce between spirit and matter. So to make the argument work, Tyson has to reinterpret Genesis in the scientific worldview; where there’s a separation of spirit and matter.

Now there was something similar to astronomy, as early as 2000 BC. But those somewhat-scientific attempts were a combination of astronomy and astrology. Even in the 16th century, at the time of the Copernican Revolution, when it was understood that the Sun is the center of the solar system, astronomy and astrology were still not entirely divorced.

Spirit and matter were still connected. In other words, Tyson has to go back to Genesis, holding the scientific worldview — where spirit and matter are divorced — then evaluate Genesis only on the basis of matter; the scientific worldview, to put Genesis down. But Genesis was written when spirit and matter were not divorced. So it is a spiritual document, not a scientific one.

He takes for granted that Genesis is “an account of nature,” but it’s not. Using the word “nature,” he means material reality. He’s eliminating the spiritual and keeping the material, showing that his only viewpoint is the scientific worldview.

But Genesis wasn’t written for the scientific worldview, not least because the scientific method wasn’t discovered. Which is not to say the two worldviews are incompatible. The spiritual worldview and the scientific worldview are perfectly compatible. It’s just that Tyson tries to force spirituality into the scientific method, then points out that the project doesn’t work. Rather than blame the instrument (science), he blames the test subject (spirituality).

He places science above everything else. Not understanding that as powerful as science is, it is limited to matter. Instead, he speaks as though matter is the limit, because science says it is. But a person need only look to the experience of love, to know that the material explanation of oxytocin as a bonding chemical doesn’t fully explain the phenomenon of love.

Tyson also mentions the Second Coming. In Biblical writings, “heaven” refers to abstract or spiritual reality and “earth” refers to material reality. These terms, heaven and earth, are symbolic in nature. Meaning, heaven also points to an afterlife or the domain of God. But that’s not the same thing as a literal interpretation.

Philo of Alexandria, a 1st century BC and AD Jewish philosopher, notes that the Genesis 1:1 heaven and earth: “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth,” are a heaven and earth of abstraction. They are immaterial, but knowable. The abstractions go first. Then the material sky and planet are created, dependent on the abstract or spiritual origins.

The abstract heaven and earth serve as archetypes to the heaven and Earth of Genesis 1:8 and 1:10 — the visible world: “And God called the firmament heaven,” then, “God called the dry land Earth.” That theme of a symbolic heaven and earth — an abstract or spiritual heaven and earth, plus a material heaven and Earth, which are dependent on the immaterial, was picked up by the 3rd century Christian theologian Origen (of Alexandria).

Meaning, the spiritual interpretation of Genesis, actually coincides with the time of Christ and the emergence of the Christian tradition — as seen in Philo of Alexandria. So, the James Webb Space Telescope won’t send us images of heaven. Because “heaven” isn’t a material place in the sky and “earth” isn’t the specific planet we live on. Those words are both stand-ins for categories of reality. Even if there is a heavenly afterlife and a planet Earth.

The spiritual interpretation of Scripture wasn’t made up after science was invented; nor was the spiritual interpretation a replacement interpretation, made up because science now accounted for particular material discoveries about reality.

Now in the story of the Second Coming, as Tyson says, quoting the supposed Biblical worldview: “‘Stars are just little points of light, much lesser than the Sun, and that in fact they can fall out of the sky.’ One of the signs of the Second Coming, is that the stars will fall out of the sky and land on Earth.” Symbolically, at the end of the world — take that however one will — the points of light we look up to, which are not as important as the Light in front of us, will crash from abstract reality into material reality.

For example, the more we have a religion of science; where science is the highest and only explanation of reality and we make science an idol to be worshipped — the closer we come to scientific abstraction colliding with material reality. That’s the end of the world. Nuclear weapons, Covid lockdowns, eugenics, etc. The light of science is important, but should never be higher than God. So again, Tyson has to reinterpret the Second Coming to fit the scientific worldview, in order to dismiss the Second Coming.

Further, Saint Gregory of Nyssa, writing The Life of Moses in the 4th century, is explaining symbolic representations within the Biblical text. It is a spiritual approach to the Bible. Saint Gregory doesn’t approach the Bible as a scientific document, which is to be taken as a forensic analysis of reality. He’s trying to explain what each “material” aspect symbolically represents. In the Christian worldview, meaning and spirit are central, not matter.

One can object that there are people who think Genesis is scientifically true. Even today, there are schools devoted to teaching that. Clearly, that approach is incorrect. Genesis isn’t a scientific document. But it would have been the best explanation of material reality — along with its primary focus on spiritual reality — before science divorced the two. Once humanity began focusing only on material reality, it became clear that Genesis isn’t a scientific work at all.

Both extremes, Creationist schools and Tyson, think Genesis is a scientific document, but it isn’t. Both groups reinterpret Genesis to fit the scientific worldview. The Creationist schools don’t even understand they are playing into the rules of the game they oppose: the scientific worldview.

There were ancient philosophers who did speculative “science,” thinking that everything was fundamentally water, fire, air, or earth. Those philosophers focused on material reality, and today we know they were wrong (except for Democritus who hypothesized atoms). However, those natural philosophers were outliers in their society. Most people were more concerned with how to live their lives properly; spiritual questions, not material questions.

Even alchemists, the forerunners to chemists, were concerned with spirit. Like astrologers, the forerunners to astronomers. Science never would have even begun, if Christianity didn’t place such an emphasis on truth, as the 19th century German philosopher Nietzsche notes: saying Christianity died by its own hand; in the sense that Christianity placed such a heavy emphasis on truth, which spurred on the development of science, which in turn made many people focus only on material reality and lose their faith in spirit.

Science was pursued rigorously, because Christianity insisted there was an objective truth to reality; as science also insists there is an objective truth to reality. It’s just that science can only deal with the material world, and that objective truth. Science lacks the ability to deal with the spiritual matters which Christianity pursues as objective truth, such as God’s existence and ethics. Yet when Genesis was written, and for almost all of human history, unlike today, the world was a place of spirit more than a place of matter. That’s why Genesis was and is a spiritual document and not a scientific one.

Once humanity began the scientific method, of divorcing spirit from matter, in the 16th century, roughly two millennia after Genesis was written, some religious people did treat Genesis as a scientific document. They argued that Genesis was scientifically true. That was incorrect, but that was their best guess until science definitively proved it wrong. That scientific attempt of the Church, infamously exemplified with Galileo being labeled a heretic, was abandoned centuries ago. But the idea of reality only being material, which began with the advent of science, carried on through the Enlightenment of the 17th and 18th centuries, all the way to now.

With that said, if Genesis is an account of nature, it would lose all of its significance once science accounted for nature. But Genesis isn’t an account of nature; meaning matter. Rather, Genesis is an account of spirit. That’s why Genesis didn’t — and doesn’t, need the scientific worldview to make sense. Philo of Alexandria and Origen had no problem understanding Genesis as a spiritual document. And Saint Gregory of Nyssa makes no reference to science, when explaining the symbolic representations in the Bible.

However if one only has the scientific worldview, like Tyson and many people today, one can only see Genesis as science. Tyson’s whole argument relies on him reinterpreting Genesis as a scientific document. But the writers and readers of Genesis were looking at a spiritual document.

Until science, spirit mattered more than matter.

Today, with the scientific confusion around quantum causality, free will, the vastness of our universe, and our strangely-protected little planet — it might be wise to learn from people who thought there was more to reality than matter; like Philo of Alexandria, Origen, and Saint Gregory of Nyssa.

“Now the reason for all these false, impious, and ignorant assertions about God is simply that Scripture is not understood spiritually, but in accordance with the bare letter.” — Origen, On First Principles, IV, 2, 3

Dan Sherven is the author of three books, including the number one bestseller Classified: Off the Beat ‘N Path. Sherven is also an award-winning journalist, writing for several publications. Find Sherven’s work.

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