500: The Levy Breaks

Introduction to 500 series

After Luther posted his 95 theses for debate, several copies were made and distributed among German intellectuals. In January of 1518, the theses were translated from Latin into German. Within two weeks, it spread throughout Germany. Within two months, it spread throughout Europe. Foreign students came to Wittenburg to hear Luther; he published several commentaries over the next two years on books of the Bible—his concepts of justification, predestination, and the solas developed further during this time.

Meanwhile, the archbishop of Mainz had not responded to the theses; rather, he forwarded them on to Rome. Pope Leo X was not one to rush a hasty response. He sent papal theologians and envoys to inquire. A Dominican theologian Mazzolini drafted heresy charges against Luther. It was agreed to that Luther could be tried in Augsburg in October 1518. The questioning was regarding the issue of the pope’s right to issue indulgences. The papal legate had instructions to arrest Luther if he did not recant, but Luther fled the city instead.

In January 1519 in Saxony, Luther made some concessions to the papal nuncio. However, Johann Eck wanted Luther’s doctrine to be made public and exposed as heretical. Johann Eck was a Catholic theologian who regarded Luther as a new Hussite. In the summer of that year, he staged debates between himself and Andreas Karlstadt, a Luther defender. The latter debates were between Eck and Luther. Luther was superior in education and skill. Yet Eck did succeed in proving that Luther did hold some opinions held by heretic Hussites and that he believed some councils to be errant. Theologians at the University of Leipzig declared Eck the victor.  

Eck tried to get the Elector Frederick of Saxony to burn Luther’s works. In 1519 alone, he published eight writings against the Lutheran movement. While he had support from Rome and in some universities, he failed to gather much support in Germany, where many theologians and noblemen were siding with Luther. In 1520, he met with Pope Leo X, who praised his work, but still had not taken decisive action regarding Luther.  

After explaining the situation to the pope, Eck returned to Germany with the papal bull Exsurge Domine charging that 41 propositions of Luther were erroneous or heretical. He thought this would finally quash the Lutheran movement as well as the humanists. However, he was met with insults and protests that prevented him from publically reading the bull. He had to flee both Saxony and Freiberg.

The papal bull Exsurge Domine in June 1520 declared that Luther had 60 days to recant 41 statements found in his writings or risk excommunication. The papal nuncio tried to broker a deal, but it fell apart. Luther burned the bull at Wittenberg on December 10. On January 3, 1521, Pope Leo X formally excommunicated him.

The Church had declared him a heretic, but it was now the local, secular state’s problem to deal with him. On April 18, 1521, Luther was ordered to appear before The Diet of Worms—a general assembly of the Holy Roman Empire, with Emperor Charles V presiding. The issue was regarding the enforcement of the ban of Luther’s theses. Eck represented the Empire. Luther stated that he could no longer trust the pope or the councils and could interpret Scripture on his own. Eck argued that many heretics held to their interpretations of Scripture as well.

The Edict of Worms declared Luther an outlaw and banned his writings. It was made a crime for anyone in Germany to give him food or shelter. He could be killed without legal consequence. However, he found refuge in Wartburg Castle. His writings continued to spread.

While he failed to stop the flood of Lutheran fervor in Germany, Eck contributed greatly to the Catholic Reformation in his works attacking the flaws and heresies in the new doctrines. He worked closely with Protestants in understanding and counter-arguing their theologies and the Protestant Revolution rolled on.

To Hell with It

Recently, I was trying to find a quote about the Eucharist—one that contained all the majesty and mystery of the sacrament, that emphasized the absurd truth of it, that would rattle Protestant definitions and lead them home. Something akin to Tolkien’s: “Out of the darkness of my life, so much frustrated, I put before you the one great thing to love on earth: the Blessed Sacrament…There you will find romance, glory, honour, fidelity, and the true way of all your loves on earth, and more than that: Death.”

But then I came across one that stripped away prose and got to the heart of the matter. Flannery O’Connor wrote: “Well, toward morning the conversation turned on the Eucharist, which I, being the Catholic, was obviously supposed to defend. [Mary McCarthy] said when she was a child and received the Host, she thought of it as the Holy Ghost, He being the 'most portable' person of the Trinity; now she thought of it as a symbol and implied that it was a pretty good one. I then said, in a very shaky voice, 'Well, if it's a symbol, to hell with it.' That was all the defense I was capable of but I realize now that this is all I will ever be able to say about it, outside of a story, except that it is the center of existence for me; all the rest of life is expendable.”

It was all the defense I was capable of. I so often struggle for words and explanations. I want the sound the defense—to know the philosophy and metaphysics, the teachings of the fathers, the logic, the history, the theology. I want to be able to hold and win debate. But I can’t. I’m not well-versed or well-prepared or well-spoken. But it is important to defend; it is the pinnacle of Christian worship. If it’s a symbol, then most Christians are misguided idolaters; if it’s truly Christ, then it the height of earthly experience.

So maybe I’m not the one to debate. Just stand my ground, even if my voice shakes.

'Well, if it's a symbol, to hell with it.'

Sun Day (part 3)

On the day of the solar eclipse, special glasses were a must. You couldn’t look directly at the sun. It was so bright that you couldn’t see the moon inching its way into its path until a moment before totality. Just a slimmer of sun still lit up the sky and hurt your eyes.

So we were warned, over and over, don’t look at the sun during the eclipse. It’s tempting, but it will hurt. Yet with the glasses, everything else was blacked out. The sun was a tiny, orange ball—the moon, a tinier, black spot, slowing eating away at it. There was a heavy filter between my eyes and the spheres, but it was the only way I could possibly witness them.

A few days later, I was driving to church. Normally, driving east, the sun is right in my face. But this morning was particularly foggy. I turned a corner which normally blasts me with bright light. But the fog was thick. I looked up, and I could see the dull, white ball of the sun. It wasn’t blinding me like normal. The fog allowed me to look directly at it.

I don’t see the sun that often. I see sunlight, obviously. I see daytime. I see the colors of sunrises and sunsets. I see rooms lit up by natural light pouring in windows. I see reflections and shadows. But the sun itself is too bright, too powerful. That fireball is millions of miles away yet feels dangerous close. Looking at it will hurt me. I need a filter.

We all know where this is going, right? The face of God is too much for meek humans to handle. We can’t look directly at him. Life on earth is sustained by him. We see the light all around, but we cannot see him directly. But through a fog, we somehow see him clearer. Through others—their actions, their hearts, their intercessions—we can gaze closer than we could with a naked eye.

The eclipse made me think about the sun much more than I normally do. It’s so prominent that I don’t actually think about that often. But there it is, routinely, giving heat and light, bouncing and reflecting, sometimes dancing. Sometimes it takes a moon or a fog for me to realize how much I love it. 

Sun Day (part 2)

The solar eclipse was touted as a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and for many, it was. There is a solar eclipse every 18 months or so, but the timing and placement make it rare to catch more than a couple of times. It is a natural occurrence, but it feels miraculous. I was surprised that more dooms-dayers hadn’t picked August 21 as a sign or start of the end times (but some did).

There are mentions of eclipses in the Bible. And strangely, one doesn’t make natural sense. “It was now about noon and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon because of an eclipse of the sun. Then the veil of the temple was torn down the middle. Jesus cried out in a loud voice, ‘Father, into your hands I commend my spirit’; and when He had said this He breathed His last.” (Luke 23:44-46). First, the darkness lasted three hours, not three minutes like a usual eclipse. And secondly, there shouldn’t be an eclipse at all. Christ died during Passover, which is dictated by a lunar calendar; it falls on a full moon. Solar eclipses can only occur during a new moon.

Different manuscripts of the Luke use different Greek words, including “eskotisthe ho helios” ("the sun was darkened") and “tou heliou eklipontos” ("the sun's light failed" or "the sun was in eclipse"). So it’s clear that darkness fell, like an eclipse, but that this wasn’t a natural occurrence. Something miraculous was going on.

The same at Fatima. Today is the 100th anniversary of the sixth apparition at Fatima, commonly called the Miracle of the Sun. Thousands had descended to the field to see Mary appear as promised. The eyewitness accounts attempt to describe what they saw—the breaking of the clouds, the changes of color, the movement which defied their understanding. Even rural farmers know how the sun works. The sun doesn’t dance. Or rather, the earth doesn’t shift from its rotation. Something miraculous was going on. It’s not going to fit into the scientific explanation. God creates the rules of physics. He keeps them in motion. And he can supersede them. That’s the nature of the miraculous.

What am I to make of Fatima? I am not obligated to believe it. I am not obligated to disbelieve it. I am not inclined to discount what the witnesses claim. I don’t put too much emphasis on its meaning or warnings. But I accept it as proof that our God is not a clockwork god. He can and will intervene in his creation.

Sun Day (part 1)

Back in August, solar eclipse fever swept the country, especially those of us living in the arching band of totality. Schools and businesses closed, tourists poured into farms and small towns, a pair of cardboard glasses become a hot commodity. It seems silly and over-hyped, but it also seemed worth it. It was a fun, fantastical distraction, a natural occurrence we humans couldn’t control. For all our modernity and avoidance of nature, we still stopped to look at the sun.

In 1878, people rush west to see a solar eclipse. Eclipse fever got caught up in scientific advancement and Manifest Destiny of the time. Even back in New York, which only had a partial eclipse, the Herald reported: “Portly bankers about to start for home paused on their office steps and turned their eyes above the money making world; merchants stood in the doorways of their busy stores, alternately consulting the face of their watches and the face of the sky; clerks and messengers, hurrying along the crowded streets, ceased to knock and jostle one another and with upturned faces and a blissful forgetfulness of business stood gazing all in one direction, while shop girls, escaping from the toilsome factory, caught a [momentary] glimpse of the heavens above and stalwart policemen stood boldly by frightened French nurses and their infant charges.”

The eclipse started slow. Without glasses, one couldn’t see the small moon starting to cover the massive star. But it gradually grew darker, like a coming storm, or twilight in late summer, a grayish yellow tint, distorting the color palate. Sunset arrived, in 360°. The cicadas began their ritual. Sun snakes weaved across the pavement, light twisting and bending to make the eight minute journey to earth. In a moment before totality, a diamond ring appeared in the sky, the then band with a bulb of brilliant shimmer. For a few minutes, we were transfixed, looking into the sky (sans glasses at this point), at the wisps of the corona, at the unusual sight that indicated the usual routine of the movement of the spheres. And then the moment passed, and the sky lightened, and the birds began their morning songs, and the world moved on.

I rarely think about how life on this planet is sustained by a giant fireball millions of miles away. Throw on some spf and sunglasses and it’s rarely an issue. But watching 5% of it still light up the sky, seeing its luminous corona glimmer, feeling its heat retreat and return, reminded me just how powerful it is.

Our universe works to exacting precision. It demonstrates God’s massive power and attention to detail. We are so finite in scale, yet God’s love for us is immense. We were created to know him and marvel at his creation.

“For he gave me sound knowledge of what exists, that I might know the structure of the universe and the force of its elements, the beginning and the end and the midpoint of times, the changes in the sun’s course and the variations of the seasons, cycles of years, positions of stars, natures of living things, tempers of beasts, powers of the winds and thoughts of human beings, uses of plants and virtues of roots—Whatever is hidden or plain I learned, for Wisdom, the artisan of all, taught me” (Wis. 7:17-22).

By My Side

I don’t know what my guardian angel looks like. I don’t know his name (though I do give him a masculine gender for language convenience). The whole concept of angels interacting in our world still feels foreign and bizarre to me. I like to avoid things I don’t understand.

Angel is the title of particular created spirits. They are God’s messengers. They are non-corporeal, personal, and immortal. The Catechism explains, “From its beginning until death, human life is surrounded by their watchful care and intercession. Beside each believer stands an angel as protector and shepherd leading him to life. Already here on earth the Christian life shares by faith in the blessed company of angels and men united in God” (CCC 336).

Lately, I’ve begun acknowledging and leaning on my guardian angel. When I had no one to reach out to, it was comforting knowing that I had my own, individual guardian watching over me, wanting the very best for me. When I felt attacked, it was comforting knowing that I wasn’t battling evil alone.

My angel knows God’s love and will for me. His purpose is to care for me and get me to heaven. And goodness knows I could use the help. His choice to serve God is unwavering, unlike human free will. He does so much work that I don’t realize or acknowledge.

Today is the Feast of the Guardian Angels. So, thank you, Angel. Keep up the good fight.