Admiring Saint Catherine of Alexandria: A 16th Century Italian Sculpture at the Metropolitan Museum of Art

Join me on a journey through time, appreciating a 16th-century Italian sculpture of the Christian martyr, Catherine of Alexandria, on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

In the heart of New York City lies a treasure trove of artistic marvels — the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Today, my admiration was captured by an exquisite 16th-century Italian sculpture depicting Catherine of Alexandria, a revered Christian martyr from the third century.

Saint Catherine of Alexandria,
Cristoforo Solari, Italian, ca. 1514-24

The saint stands regal, and she has on her side the instrument of her martyrdom — a wheel in which she was tied to and tortured. But — wait, look at her feet — it is the head of the emperor. So — even in death, Christianity wins — for she has defeated paganism. What?!

The detailed portrayal of Saint Catherine evokes her timeless courage and spiritual strength. Originally from Egypt, Catherine's legacy extends beyond geographical and temporal boundaries, continuing to inspire individuals across centuries.

Each stroke, each detailed carving in this Italian masterpiece, resonates with the passion of an artist, reverently capturing the essence of the saint. It is a tangible connection to a time gone by, a bridge between the present and the past.

As I stood there, taking in the silent beauty of this sculpture, I couldn't help but wonder about the varied art forms that touch our hearts. What is your favorite work of art? In its many manifestations, art connects us, narrates past stories, and provokes introspection. Let's continue this journey of art appreciation together, exploring and rediscovering the relics of history.

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Recollection: Catholic Confirmation at Mary Queen of Peace Church (c. 1990s)

Me, Archbishop Philip Hannan, and Georgette Pintado (Nanan)

Throwback post to 1997 - a Catholic Confirmation ceremony at Mary Queen of Peace Church in Mandeville, Louisiana.

In the Catholic tradition, young people get confirmed. It's the standard rite of passage for Catholic youth. You take some classes. You go on a field trip. You take on the name of a saint and you choose a sponsor to help support you in your Catholicity. At sixteen years old, I was confirmed at Mary Queen of Peace Catholic Church in Mandeville, Louisiana. The pastor was Father Ronnie Calkins - a really nice guy who I later knew better when I joined the Seminary. But that's another story.

Letter from Walker Percy to Fr. Dominic Braud, O.S.B.

American novelist Walker Percy wrote Fr. Dominic Braud a letter on March 9, 1980.

Letter from Walker Percy to Fr. Dominic Braud, O.S.B. (Stamped March 10, 2010; Handwritten)

Fr. Dominic Braud, O.S.B. was the choirmaster at Saint Joseph Abbey and Seminary College in St. Benedict, Louisiana for decades. He was a Benedictine monk and priest and he had formed a friendship with Percy after Percy had become an Oblate of Saint Benedict. In the following letter, it appears that Braud had sent Percy a copy of a poem written by William Alexander Percy that was set to music. William Alexander Percy was Walker Percy's guardian and raised Percy as if he were his own father. Click the link to retrieve a scan of the envelope, the back of the envelope, and the actual letter.

     I have transcribed the letter thus:

Walker Percy P.O. Box 510 Covington, LA 70433 March 9, 1980 Dear Father Dominic —      It was very good of you to send me the Green setting of Uncle Will's poem. No, I don't remember seeing it and so am all the more grateful for having it.      What would you say to my coming out sometime and demanding that you sing it? — Otherwise I'll never know how it sounds —        Many Thanks again, Walker

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Theresa of Avila on the Meaning of Life

Handwriting Credit: Greig Roselli

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Story of a Vocation: There and Back Again

A Story from My Fifteen Year Old Self
I was fifteen years old: naive, mischievous and lonely, awkward with my body, my voice ~ and my words - my very being. The gash of Mom and Dad's divorce was still raw; I felt ripped apart inside, hurt and distanced, unsure how to appease the increasing emptiness in the pit of my middle. I read novels in a walk-in-closet. Nicholas, my little brother, would peek in on me and wonder what the hell I was doing! When I wasn't absorbing the back of a cereal box or a Vonnegut, I used my bicycle to broaden my geographical horizons. I befriended a beloved librarian, a resilient French survivor of the guerre mondiale, a cassocked conservative priest and an existential liberal Jew. Those were my comrades. Even, very briefly, a traveling antique salesperson who voyaged in a Volkswagen van became my friend. In between visits with all my friends I took refuge in the church, hugging the venerable wood pew, using my spiritual imagination to conjure some image of a future. I would ask my reluctant mother to bring me to Sunday Eucharist - at first she thought it was a phase, like my recent attempts to collect every matchbox car ever made, then she became more hostile when I told her I wanted to be confirmed. Then I told my family I wanted to be a priest!

A Warm Christmas Fire Was Burning

Maybe it was in those bike rides to confirmation class, or in those angry

battles with my parents about my life, about our life, about freedom. Or with my

great friends, the realization that someone outside your clan can love and accept

you for who you are - you grow to love and accept them, that I realized in a

process (that is still continuing) churning away inside of me like a warm Christmas

fire was the hearth of calling.

Now I teach philosophy and write about art. Is this my new religion?

Learning About Folk's Faith Journey I am interested in people's journey of faith. Where did it lead you? Are you the same "faith" as you were when you were younger? Why or why not?

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Photograph: All Saints Catholic Church in Brooklyn

All Saints Catholic Church in Brooklyn, New York, Throop Ave.

I walk past this church every day on my way to teach. It's a nice example of classic Romanesque style architecture. It is difficult to notice in this picture, but the rectory is a handsome building, as well. It sits to the left of the church in this photograph.

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Review of the Papal Encyclical "Veritatis Splendor": John Paul II and Moral Theology

Veritatis Splendor is John Paul II's 

papal encyclical outlining the 

Catholic Church's moral teaching.

Why is Pope John Paul II in his encyclical Veritatis Splendor so hard on  "teleological", "consequentialist" and "proportionalist" ethical theories?

    John Paul II in Veritatis Splendor places emphasis on the good rooted in a divine, or eternal law. In saying this he is advocating a moral system based on the principles of Natural Law Theory, even though in the encyclical he states that the Church does not support a particular theological or philosophical system, it is precisely natural law that he advocates in this encyclical. The Pope doesn’t like the systems he calls “teleologism” and “proportionalism”. About Teleologism and Proportionalism, he says, “Such theories however are not faithful to the Church's teaching, when they believe they can justify, as morally good, deliberate choices of kinds of behavior contrary to the commandments of the divine and natural law.” So, again, it seems John Paul II doesn’t like it when a moral system does not place commandment over love, for example, or personal responsibility. It makes sense that he would argue in this manner, considering the Gospel passage he chose to set the stage for this encyclical, the story of the rich young man, which he uses to set up the standard for moral norms. The Pope wants to place certain ethical norms in place, based on an ethics of divine commandment.
Using "Object - Act - Consequence" When Evaluating Moral Decision-Making
     The Pope tries to work out a system that claims certain actions are evil, because their objects, in of themselves are evil. He claims that the so-called proportionalist and teleological systems do not claim the “object” of an act — such as contraception — as evil in of itself, but instead attempt to examine the intention or circumstances of the act, invariably “letting people off the hook”. For the Pope, an evil act is evil, regardless of the circumstances or intentions. For example, contraception is evil, because the object of preventing life to form in a woman’s womb artificially is always an intrinsically evil act — even though in Humane Vitae, Paul VI tried very hard to steer clear from such wording, the Pope seems to have no qualms in doing so.
Is There a Middle Ground in Moral Teaching that Still Stays True to Catholic Teaching?       

    It seems to me that instead of point-blank condemning these moral systems, the right thing to do would be able to form some kind of compromise between the two or to discover a moral theologian that seems to be able to form a really good systems based on something rather than the object in of itself and still remain true to Catholic teaching. I myself do not consider myself a proponent of Natural Law. I am too Platonic, too much of a Romantic, to get into the Aristotelian-flavored ethics of Thomas. Although, it seems to me the Pope should be more like Thomas in attempting to incorporate “pagan” ideas into Christian thought.  Maybe there is something good out there that we really have not integrated well into our Catholic moral teaching. If Thomas could do what he did with Aristotle, why can’t we do the same with Existentialism — or even Phenomenology?

Should the Church's moral teaching be more open or closed?

  
Are All Immoral Acts Equal Evil?
     The Pope is a phenomenologist, I understand, but this encyclical does not seem to be written in a phenomenological vein, instead, it is much more steeped in the language of law and norms, especially in regards to sexual ethics. Wouldn’t it be okay to sanction certain objectively evil acts? Doesn’t the church in a way use proportionalism when it attempts to justify war? I may be wrong, but it seems that the Pope is unyielding when it comes to matters of sexual ethics, when in fact, the parable of the rich young man is more about wealth. There seems to be a trend in moral theology that condemns without reserve evil acts such as abortion but allows wiggle room for war and deportation, for example. Again, I believe we should be able to reach a compromise.
On Some Criticisms
      When I read Veritatis Splendor I also read Häring’s criticism in the Tablet. I also looked at op-ed pieces that were written at the same time and was amazed at the flood of criticism. Melina is right; most of the critics focused on chapter two of the encyclical, the part about the sources of Moral of Theology and intrinsic evil and not on the other chapters. Chapter two of the encyclical is the most important part of the encyclical, I agree, but Melina argues that the document should be looked at in its entirety. Melina wants renewal in Moral Theology too, new Gospel wine, a new, comprehensive outlook yet profoundly traditional (6). Melina knows that one cannot get rid of the the moral norms but at the same time he realizes that morality should not be governed by a legalism so prevalent in older systems. There has been a “rupture of the bond between freedom and truth” and there is a crisis in Moral Theology.
     The subject has been fractured and takes on the guise of whatever social environment it finds itself in.  The fractured “I” is not truly free because it is bound to the truths of disconnected moral systems, never really able to “become a free subject of action”.  He points a finger at the bourgeois society of the “rich young man” as the result of the shipwreck in morality.  He also sees technology as destructive to man when disconnected from conscience.  He quotes Heidegger and Rabelais.  Our computers and super-fast jets are nothing without conscience.  I passionately believe this; that technology can remove us from a “connect”, not only from a guiding conscience but from the connect of the other as well, thus a disconnect from God.  I am reminded of Fahrenheit 451, the novel about a dystopia where firefighters burn books to keep people from thinking and feeling.  Maybe there needs to be an embrace of the more profound questions of human existence, rather than just “What must I do”?   
       How is Melina going to recontextualize Moral Theology yet remain profoundly traditional?  It seems he is going to bring in the virtues to put together the pieces of the shattered ego.  I don’t know how he is going to do this, but noticing that he has already quoted Alistair McIntyre (After Virtue) and C.S. Lewis and Aristotle in the first thirty-three pages I can see that Virtue Ethics will play a large role in resurrecting the fragile “I”, the wounded subject that seems to be the cause of the crisis in Moral Theology.  He will also bring in the necessity of community in creating a moral realm that is aesthetic and good.  Beauty is necessary for salvation, I believe.  Beauty is the splendor of truth.  If we lose the beautiful then we have lost humanity.  If we lose the community, the need for friends, that Aristotle so beautifully wrote about in the Nichomachean Ethics, then humanity will surely be at lost, no matter how technologically advanced we become.  Melina asks a beautiful question that I hope he expounds upon: “What kind of community will help me to attain the values to which I am called”.  I get frustrated in thinking about what I should do; I am asked about what I do in my life, so much so, that I wish sometimes people would ask me, ‘how will you attain the values to which you are called’?  There has to be a return to the virtues, to an aesthetic, and a re-tethering of freedom and truth, I agree and the moral life must find a home.   
      But, still, I wonder what he means by remaining profoundly traditional?  He mentions that he is going to address the nexus between freedom and truth, which may bring a profoundly traditional Moral Theology, yet, still I do not know what he means by that statement.  He is also going to bring in the connection between faith and morality.  I can see how this will also be profoundly traditional because Melina does not want the attitude of faith lost to morality; he wants to affirm that to believe is also a profoundly moral assertion.  So, I hope that these books provide some insights into bringing back the human family, so we can more authentically say to one another, “What?  You too?  I thought that no one but myself  ...” (32).

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Theology: Reflection on the Vatican II Document Sacrosanctum Concilium

The Second Vatican Council convenes in St. Peter's Basilica.

It has been over thirty years since the Vatican Council began, since the renewal of the liturgy and the subsequent changes that have affected Catholic worship as we know it was first set into motion. I was born in 1979, more than a decade after these changes. I grew up knowing nothing different than the Mass that I know today, in the vernacular, which was the familiar language of English. I only know Mass, where the priest faces the people, not the other way around.

     Little did I know as a boy in Catholic grammar school that the liturgy and worship of my time and place had had a long and tumultuous history, a journey spanning two millennia, from the breaking of the bread recorded in Acts (2:2), to the Greek concept of koinonia, the Orthodox liturgy of the East, to the dramatic Papal displays of Medieval Europe to the Tridentine Mass so familiar to a whole generation of Catholics who came before me.
     So, reading the document on the liturgy from the Council today, more than three decades later, is very interesting because it is essential to go back to the source of what changed dramatically, a liturgy that had been practically unchanged since the Council of Trent. What has really changed, and what has really stayed the same? What did this document have to say, and how have we been faithful to it in our interpretations?