Interior Catholic

  • Constantine’s Sword

    There’s a lot we’re not taught about the history of the Jews. Honestly, there’s not a lot we’re taught about history in general. I knew the Crusades were a religious war; the most I know of the Spanish Inquisition is from Monty Python. It wasn’t until recently that I even knew the extent of Roman rule in Israel during Jesus’s time. Sunday-school–aged children like myself wondered why Pilate was even there, or did they cart Jesus back and forth to Rome?

    Constantine’s Sword digs into that history, proving the undercurrent of Catholic antisemitism from the Passion to the Holocaust. It’s a dense piece of work. It took me four months to finish. But in the end, I’m left… unsettled. The history of Jew-hatred is enough to unsettle, but that wasn’t the part that stuck out to me. The author, a former Catholic priest, has some issues with the Church he can’t put aside. I wonder what’s truly historically accurate, and what’s colored by his personal bias.

    I don’t deny there was some shady business in the Church regarding other religions, especially the Jews. Even the Gospels point at “The Jews” as the murders of Jesus, an accusation that sparked anti-Judaism throughout history. (This ignores the obvious Jewishness of Jesus and his Mother, which is often left out of the story.) Over time, this negative opinion brings worse and worse consequences. Jews are exiled from countries countless times; they’re blamed for the Black Plague; they’re forced into ghettos. I didn’t even know of the Roman ghetto before reading this book. Sometimes popes stand up for them, and sometime they don’t. We like the think the Holocaust was the last straw, but it wasn’t. Antisemitism still runs wild.

    But near the end, the author starts to get more opinionated than factual. The last section is titled “A Call for Vatican III,” a conclusion of what the Church should do to make up for its sins and be more inclusive. It includes things I do agree with, like fostering better relations between Catholic and Jews. But a lot of these “suggestions” miss the mark. The right for priests to marry? The church as a democracy? A call for sola scriptura? If this is what you want of church, you’re not Catholic. He completely misses the mark of Catholicism, which makes me question his historical research. What’s fact, and what’s bias? It’s an interesting read for the history of Catholic/Jewish relations, but I’m not sure how much of the details I can believe.

  • St. Anthony of Padua

    We were in Butler to pick up a Blessed Mother statue. I’d like to say it’s a strange story, but it’s not that weird—she needed a new home, and I’ve been wanting to have one. We planned our trip around the Mass times at St. Anthony of Padua, the parish down the street. I loved visiting new and different churches as a recent convert, which I haven’t done as much in the past year.


    That’s me!

    I’ve had a certain image of Catholic churches in my mind since I was a kid. Not the grandiose kind, though that’s obviously top of the list. But the quiet kind, the white walls and curved ceilings that seem to request contemplation. I don’t know why this screams (or, whispers) “Catholic” for me. I probably visited one parish as a kid that looks like that, so that is the image I’ve held. Or maybe there is something quiet and contemplative about them, which is something we often seek in a hectic life. Either way, this sort of church has a comfortable familiarity.

    It was a fairy overcast day, but inside seemed to shine. Filtered light came through the stained glass windows, and people spoke in hushed tones. The nave was small, at least compared to other local parishes, so the pastor was able to greet everyone as he walked up the aisle before Mass. I’m sure we stood out as visitors; it seemed the kind of place where everyone knows everyone else.

    Mass itself ended up being short, not even forty minutes. When I returned to my pew after receiving the Eucharist, I was surprised to see the back clock reading only thirty minutes past. But it didn’t feel rushed, despite the record-speed homily and lack of some more common things I’m used to. Instead, its atmosphere matched the structure of the church itself—quiet and contemplative, a refreshing change from the norm.

    I did pick up that Blessed Mother statue while in town. There was something comical about driving up to someone’s home, when they’re not there, to steal a box off the porch. I haven’t found a home for her yet, but she’s been well-traveled and could use the rest, too.

And they said to him, “Inquire of God, we pray thee, that we may know whether the journey on which we are setting out will succeed.”

And the priest said to them, “Go in peace. The journey on which you go is under the eye of the LORD.”

—Judges 18:5–6

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