Pride
Pride is the upright feeling — the chest lifting, the spine straightening, the quiet or open satisfaction in something done, made, or belonged to. It is the emotion the tradition is most divided about, named a sin in one inheritance and a dignity in another. Vela reads pride as a primary emotion that runs both ways, distinct from the defensive pride that only braces against shame, and follows the writers who have held its honest version.
Working definition · Upright satisfaction in self, lineage, or work—earned or defended.
3462 passages · 1 Vela essay · in 2 clusters
Vela’s read on this emotion
Pride is the emotion with the longest moral rap sheet, and the reading takes that history seriously without accepting its verdict. The pride the contemplative tradition warned against is real, but so is the pride a person earns by surviving, by making, by refusing to be made small — and the two are not the same feeling.
The reading splits along that seam. The memoir of escape and self-making reads pride as something reclaimed — the pride of having left, of having built a self the family or the system did not authorize. Trevor Noah's Born a Crime and the memoir of leaving hold a pride that is inseparable from dignity. The contemplative inheritance reads the other pride: Augustine of Hippo named superbia — pride — as the first and root sin, the self curving in toward itself, and the Western moral imagination has argued with that ranking ever since. The literature of identity and belonging — the pride claimed by those a culture tried to shame — reads pride as a political act, a refusal of the assigned verdict.
Pride is not the same as vanity, arrogance, or pride-as-defense. Vanity needs an audience; pride can be private. Arrogance compares and ranks; pride can simply stand. Pride-as-defense is pride mobilized to shield against shame — the upright posture held precisely because the ground feels unsafe — and the reading gives it its own page. The four are kin and the reading keeps them separate, because the difference between earned pride and defended pride is the whole moral question.
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From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
John did valiant service on many a battle-field in Palestine and Asia Minor.494 In 1187 they shared in the disastrous defeat of the Christian forces at Tiberias. From that time their strength was concentrated at Acre.495 After the fall of Acre, 1291, the three orders retired to Europe, holding the Turks in check for two centuries longer in the South and extending civilization to the provinces on the Baltic in the North. They combined the element of romance, corresponding to the chivalric spirit of the age, with the element of philanthropy corresponding to its religious spirit. These orders speedily attained to great popularity, wealth, and power. Kings did them honor. Pope after pope extended their authority and privileges. Their grand masters were recognized as among the chief personages of Christendom. But with wealth and popularity came pride and decay. The strength of the Knights of St. John and the Templars was also reduced by their rivalry which became the scandal of Europe, and broke out into open feuds and pitched battles as before Acre, 1241 to 1243 and in 1259.496 After the fall of Acre, which was ascribed in large part to their jealousy, Nicholas IV. sought to combine them.497 The Knights of St. John were predominantly a French order, the Teutonic Knights exclusively a German order. The Templars were oecumenical in their constituency. I. The order of the Knights of St. John, or the Hospitallers,498 derived its name from the church of St. John the Baptist in Jerusalem.499 It seems to have grown out of a hospital in the city erected for the care of sick and destitute pilgrims. As early as the time of Charlemagne a hospital existed there. Before the year 1000 a cloister seems to have been founded by the Normans close by the church of the Holy Sepulchre known as St. Maria de Latina, with accommodations for the sick.500 About 1065 or 1070 a hospital was built by a merchant from Amalfi, Maurus.501 At the time of the capture of Jerusalem, Gerard stood at the head of one of these institutions. Gerard seems to have come from Southern France.502 He prescribed for his brotherhood a mantle of black with a white cross. Godfrey of Bouillon liberally endowed it and Baldwin further enriched it with one-tenth of the booty taken at the siege of Joppa. Gerard died in 1120 and was succeeded by Raymund du Puy, who gave the order great fame and presided over it for forty years.503
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
bishop of Augsburg, Christoph von Stadion, is reported to have remarked privately that it contained the pure truth. Duke William of Bavaria censured Eck for misrepresenting to him the Lutheran opinions; and when the doctor said he could refute them, not with the Scriptures, but with the fathers, he replied: "I am to understand, then, that the Lutherans are within the Scriptures, and we Catholics on the outside?" Dr. Brück, the Saxon chancellor who composed the preface and epilogue, handed to the Emperor a German and a Latin copy of the Confession. The Emperor kept the former, and gave the latter to the Elector of Mainz for safe-keeping. The Latin copy (in Melanchthon’s own handwriting) was deposited in the archives of Brussels, and disappeared under the reign of Duke Alba. The German original, as read before the Diet, was sent, with the acts of the Diet, to the Council of Trent, and never returned. But unauthorized editions soon appeared in different places (six German, one Latin) during the Diet; and Melanchthon himself issued the Confession in both languages at Wittenberg, 1531. Both documents were signed by seven princes; namely, the Elector John of Saxony, Landgrave Philip of Hesse, Margrave George of Brandenburg, Duke Ernest of Lüneburg, Duke John Frederick of Saxony, Duke Francis of Lüneburg, Prince Wolfgang of Anhalt; and by two representatives of free cities, Nürnberg and Reutlingen. The signing required considerable courage, for it involved the risk of the crown. When warned by Melanchthon of the possible consequences, the Saxon Elector nobly replied: "I will do what is right, unconcerned about my Electoral dignity. I will confess my Lord, whose cross I esteem more highly than all the power on earth." This act and testimony gave great significance to the Diet of Augsburg, and immortal glory to the confessors. Luther gave eloquent expression to his joy, when he wrote to Melanchthon, Sept. 15, 1530:959 You have confessed Christ, you have offered peace, you have obeyed the Emperor, you have endured injuries, you have been drenched in their revilings, you have not returned evil for evil. In brief, you have worthily done God’s holy work as becometh saints. Be glad, then, in the Lord, and exult, ye righteous. Long enough have ye been mourning in the world; look up, and lift up your heads, for your redemption draweth nigh. I will canonize you as a faithful member of Christ. And what greater glory can you desire? Is it a small thing to have yielded Christ faithful service, and shown yourself a member worthy of Him?" The only blot on the fame of the Lutheran confessors of Augsburg is their intolerant conduct towards the Reformed, which weakened their own cause. The four German cities which sympathized with the Zwinglian view on the Lord’s Supper wished to sign the Confession, with the exception of the tenth article, which rejects their view; but they were excluded, and forced to hand in a separate confession of faith. § 118.
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
CHAPTER III. THE REFORMATION IN ZURICH. 1519–1526. § 10. Zwingli called to Zurich. The fame of Zwingli as a preacher and patriot secured him a call to the position of chief pastor of the Great Minster (Grossmünster), the principal church in Zurich, which was to become the Wittenberg of Switzerland. Many of the Zurichers had heard him preach on their pilgrimages to Einsiedeln. His enemies objected to his love of music and pleasure, and charged him with impurity, adding slander to truth. His friend Myconius, the teacher of the school connected with the church, exerted all his influence in his favor. He was elected by seventeen votes out of twenty-four, Dec. 10, 1518. He arrived in Zurich on the 27th of the month, and received a hearty welcome. He promised to fulfil his duties faithfully, and to begin with the continuous exposition of the Gospel of Matthew, so as to bring the whole life of Christ before the mind of the people. This was a departure from the custom of following the prescribed Gospel and Epistle lessons, but justified by the example of the ancient Fathers, as Chrysostom and Augustin, who preached on whole books. The Reformed Churches reasserted the freedom of selecting texts; while Luther retained the Catholic system of pericopes. Zurich, the most flourishing city in German Switzerland, beautifully situated in an amphitheatre of fertile hills, on the lake of the same name and the banks of the Limmat, dates its existence from the middle of the ninth century when King Louis the German founded there the abbey of Frauemünster (853). The spot was known in old Roman times as a custom station (Turicum). It became a free imperial city of considerable commerce between Germany and Italy, and was often visited by kings and emperors. The Great Minster was built in the twelfth century, and passed into the Reformed communion, like the minsters of Basle, Berne, and Lausanne, which are the finest churches in Switzerland. In the year 1315 Zurich joined the Swiss confederacy by an eternal covenant with Lucerne, Uri, Schwyz, and Unterwalden. This led to a conflict with Austria, which ended favorably for the confederacy.46 In the beginning of the sixteenth century Zurich numbered seven thousand inhabitants. It was the centre of the international relations of Switzerland, and the residence of the embassadors (sic) of foreign powers which rivalled with each other in securing the support of Swiss soldiers. This fact brought wealth and luxury, and fostered party spirit and the lust of gain and power among the citizens. Bullinger says, "Before the preaching of the gospel [the Reformation], Zurich was in Switzerland what Corinth was in Greece."47 § 11. Zwingli’s Public Labors and Private Studies. Zwingli began his duties in Zurich on his thirty-sixth birthday (Jan. 1, 1519) by a sermon on the genealogy of Christ, and announced that on the next day (which was a Sunday) he would begin a series of expository discourses on the first Gospel.
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
VOLUME VIII. MODERN CHRISTIANITY - THE SWISS REFORMATION ——————————— This is a reproduction of the Third Edition, Revised ——————————— PREFACE. This volume concludes the history of the productive period of the Reformation, in which Luther, Zwingli, and Calvin were the chief actors. It follows the Protestant movement in German, Italian, and French Switzerland, to the close of the sixteenth century. During the last year, the sixth-centenary of the oldest surviving Republic was celebrated with great patriotic enthusiasm. On the first day of August, in the year 1291, the freemen of Uri, Schwyz, and Unterwalden formed, in the name of the Lord "a perpetual alliance for the mutual protection of their persons, property, and liberty, against internal and external foes. On the same day, in 1891, the great event was commemorated in every village of Switzerland by the ringing of bells and the illumination of the mountains, while on the following day—a Sunday—thanksgiving services were held in every church, Catholic and Protestant. The chief festivities took place, from July 31 to Aug. 2, in the towns of Schwyz and Brunnen, and were attended by the Federal and Cantonal dignitaries, civil and military, and a vast assembly of spectators. The most interesting feature was a dramatic representation of the leading events in Swiss history—the sacred oaths of Schwyz, Brunnen, and Grütli, the poetic legend of William Tell, the heroic battles for liberty and independence against Austria, Burgundy, and France, the venerable figure of Nicolas von der Flue appearing as a peacemaker in the Diet at Stans, and the chief scenes of the Reformation, the Revolution, and the modern reconstruction. The drama, enacted in the open field in view of mountains and meadows and the lake of Luzern, is said to have equalled in interest and skill of execution the famous Passion Play of Oberammergau. Similar celebrations took place, not only in every city and village of Switzerland, but also in the Swiss colonies in foreign lands, notably in New York, on the 5th, 6th, and 7th of September.2 Between Switzerland and the United States there has always been a natural sympathy and friendship. Both aim to realize the idea of a government of freedom without license, and of authority without despotism; a government of law and order without a standing army; a government of the people, by the people, and for the people, under the sole headship of Almighty God. At the time of the Reformation, Switzerland numbered as many Cantons (13) as our country originally numbered States, and the Swiss Diet was then a loose confederation representing only the Cantons and not the people, just as was our Continental Congress. But by the revision of the Constitution in 1848 and 1874, the Swiss Republic, following the example of our Constitution, was consolidated from a loose, aristocratic Confederacy of independent Cantons into a centralized federal State,3with a popular as well as a cantonal representation.
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
FROM FRANCE TO SWITZERLAND. § 69. Calvin’s Youth and Training. Calvini Opera, vol. XXI. (1879).—On Noyon and the family of Calvin, Jacques Le Vasseur (Dr. of theology, canon and dean of the cathedral of Noyon): Annales de l’église cathédrale de Noyon. Paris, 1633, 2 vols. 4°.—Jacques Desmay(Dr. of the Sorbonne and vicar-general of the diocese of Rouen): Remarques sur la vie de Jean Calvin tirées des Registres de Noyon, lieu de sa naissance. Rouen, 1621. Thomas M’Crie (d. 1835): The Early Years of Calvin. A Fragment. 1509–1536. Ed. by William Ferguson. Edinburgh, 1880 (199 pp.). A posthumous work of the learned biographer of Knox and Melville. Abel Lefranc: La Jeunesse de Calvin. Paris (33 rue de Seine), 228 pp. Comp. the biographies of Calvin by Henry, large work, vol. I. chs. I.–VIII. (small ed. 1846, pp. 12–29); Dyer (1850), pp. 4–10; Stähelin (1862) I. 3–12; *Kampschulte (1869), I. 221–225. "As David was taken from the sheepfold and elevated to the rank of supreme authority; so God having taken me from my originally obscure and humble condition, has reckoned me worthy of being invested with the honorable office of a preacher and minister of the gospel. When I was yet a very little boy, my father had destined me for the study of theology. But afterwards, when he considered that the legal profession commonly raised those who follow it, to wealth, this prospect induced him suddenly to change his purpose. Thus it came to pass, that I was withdrawn from the study of philosophy and was put to the study of law. To this pursuit I endeavored faithfully to apply myself, in obedience to the will of my father; but God, by the secret guidance of his providence, at length gave a different direction to my course. And first, since I was too obstinately devoted to the superstitions of popery to be easily extricated from so profound an abyss of mire, God by a sudden conversion subdued and brought my mind to a teachable frame, which was more burdened in such matters than might have been expected from one at my early period of life. Having thus received some taste and knowledge of true godliness, I was immediately inflamed with so intense a desire to make progress therein, that though I did not altogether leave off other studies, I yet pursued them with less ardor."380 This is the meagre account which Calvin himself incidentally gives of his youth and conversion, in the Preface to his Commentary on the Psalms, when speaking of the life of David, in which he read his own spiritual experience. Only once more he alludes, very briefly, to his change of religion. In his Answer to Cardinal Sadoletus, he assures him that he did not consult his temporal interest when he left the papal party.
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
The letters of Calvin from 1530 to 1532, chiefly addressed to his fellow-student, François Daniel of Orleans, edited by Jules Bonnet, in the Edinburgh ed. of Calvin’s Letters, I. 3 sqq.; Herminjard, II. 278 sqq.; Opera, X. Part II. 3 sqq. His first letter to Daniel is dated "Melliani, 8 Idus Septembr.," and is put by Herminjard and Reuss in the year 1530 (not 1529). Mellianum is Meillant, south of Bourges (and not to be confounded with Meaux, as is done in the Edinburgh edition). Comp. Beza-Colladon, in Op. XXI. 54 sqq., 121 sqq. L. Bonnet: É tudes sur Calvin, in the "Revue Chrétienne "for 1855. —Kampschulte, I. 226– 240;M’Crie, 12–28;Lefranc, 72–108. Calvin received the best education—in the humanities, law, philosophy, and theology—which France at that time could give. He studied successively in the three leading universities of Orleans, Bourges, and Paris, from 1528 to 1533, first for the priesthood, then, at the wish of his father, for the legal profession, which promised a more prosperous career. After his father’s death, he turned again with double zeal to the study of the humanities, and at last to theology. He made such progress in learning that he occasionally supplied the place of the professors. He was considered a doctor rather than an auditor.398 Years afterwards, the memory of his prolonged night studies survived in Orleans and Bourges. By his excessive industry he stored his memory with valuable information, but undermined his health, and became a victim to headache, dyspepsia, and insomnia, of which he suffered more or less during his subsequent life.399 While he avoided the noisy excitements and dissipations of student life, he devoted his leisure to the duties and enjoyments of friendship with like-minded fellow-students. Among them were three young lawyers, Duchemin, Connan, and François Daniel, who felt the need of a reformation and favored progress, but remained in the old Church. His letters from that period are brief and terse; they reveal a love of order and punctuality, and a conscientious regard for little as well as great things, but not a trace of opposition to the traditional faith. His principal teacher in Greek and Hebrew was Melchior Volmar (Wolmar), a German humanist of Rottweil, a pupil of Lefèvre, and successively professor in the universities of Orleans and Bourges, and, at last, at Tübingen, where he died in 1561. He openly sympathized with the Lutheran Reformation, and may have exerted some influence upon his pupil in this direction, but we have no authentic information about it.400 Calvin was very intimate with him,
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
§ 146. "The Restitution of Christianity." During his sojourn at Vienne, Servetus prepared his chief theological work under the title, "The Restitution of Christianity." He must have finished the greater part of it in manuscript as early as 1546, seven years before its publication in print; for in that year, as we have seen, he sent a copy to Calvin, which he tried to get back to make some corrections, but Calvin had sent it to Viret at Lausanne, where it was detained. It was afterwards used at the trial and ordered by the Council of Geneva to be burnt at the stake, together with the printed volume.1086 The proud title indicates the pretentious and radical character of the book. It was chosen, probably, with reference to Calvin’s, Institution of the Christian Religion." In opposition to the great Reformer he claimed to be a Restorer. The Hebrew motto on the title-page was taken from Dan. 12:1: "And at that time shall Michael stand up, the great prince;" the Greek motto from Rev. 12:7: "And there was war in heaven," which is followed by the words, "Michael and his angels going forth to war with the dragon; and the dragon warred, and his angels; and they prevailed not, neither was their place found any more in heaven. And the great dragon was cast down, the old serpent, he that is called the Devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world." The identity of the Christian name of the author with the name of the archangel is significant. Servetus fancied that the great battle with Antichrist was near at hand or had already begun, and that he was one of Michael’s warriors, if not Michael himself.1087 His "Restitution of Christianity" was a manifesto of war. The woman in the twelfth chapter of Revelation he understood to be the true Church; her child, whom God saves, is the Christian faith; the great red dragon with seven heads and horns is the pope of Rome, the Antichrist predicted by Daniel, Paul, and John. At the time of Constantine and the Council of Nicaea, which divided the one God into three parts, the dragon began to drive the true Church into the wilderness, and retained his power for twelve hundred and sixty prophetic days or years; but now his reign is approaching to a close. He was fully conscious of a divine mission to overthrow the tyranny of the papal and Protestant Antichrist, and to restore Christianity to its primitive purity. "The task we have undertaken," he says in the preface, "is sublime in majesty, easy in perspicuity, and certain in demonstration; for it is no less than to make God known in his substantial manifestation by the Word and his divine communication by the Spirit, both comprised in Christ alone, through whom alone do we plainly discern how the deity of the Word and the Spirit may be apprehended in man ... .
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
Que de fades plaisanteries ne s’est-on pas permises sur l’esprit genevois! et Genève est devenue un foyer de lumières et d’émancipation intellectuelle, même pour ses détracteurs." Marc-Monnier. Marc-Monnier was born in Florence of French parents, 1829, distinguished as a poet and historian, professor of literature in the University of Geneva, and died 1885. His "La Renaissance de Dante à Luther" (1884) was crowned by the French Academy.
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
Calvin could not always carry out his views, and acted on the principle to tolerate what he could not abolish.709 It was only after his final victory over the Libertines in 1555 that the Council conceded to the Consistory the undisputed power of excommunication.710 From these facts we may judge with what right Calvin has so often been called "the Pope of Geneva," mostly by way of reproach.711 As far as the designation is true, it is an involuntary tribute to his genius and character. For he had no material support, and he never used his influence for gain or personal ends. The Genevese knew him well and obeyed him freely. § 106. Calvin’s Theory of Discipline. Discipline is so important an element in Calvin’s Church polity, that it must be more fully considered. Discipline was the cause of his expulsion from Geneva, the basis of his flourishing French congregation at Strassburg, the chief reason for his recall, the condition of his acceptance, the struggle and triumph of his life, and the secret of his moral influence to this day. His rigorous discipline, based on his rigorous creed, educated the heroic French, Dutch, English, Scotch, and American Puritans (using this word in a wider sense for strict Calvinists). It fortified them for their trials and persecutions, and made them promoters of civil and religious liberty. The severity of the system has passed away, even in Geneva, Scotland, and New England, but the result remains in the power of self-government, the capacity for organization, the order and practical efficiency which characterizes the Reformed Churches in Europe and America. Calvin’s great aim was to realize the purity and holiness of the Church as far as human weakness will permit. He kept constantly in view the ideal of "a Church without spot or wrinkle or blemish," which Paul describes in the Epistle to the Ephesians 5:27. He wanted every Christian to be consistent with his profession, to show his faith by good works, and to strive to be perfect as our Father in heaven is perfect. He was the only one among the Reformers who attempted and who measurably carried out this sublime idea in a whole community.
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
more young men, whom he kept in his house and employed as clerks. When unwell he dictated from his bed. He had an amazing power for work notwithstanding his feeble health. When interrupted in dictation, he could at once resume work at the point where he left off.643 He indulged in no recreation except a quarter or half an hour’s walk in his room or garden after meals, and an occasional game of quoits or la clef with intimate friends. He allowed himself very little sleep, and for at least ten years he took but one meal a day, alleging his bad digestion.644 No wonder that he undermined his health, and suffered of headache, ague, dyspepsia, and other bodily infirmities which terminated in a premature death. Luther and Zwingli were as indefatigable workers as Calvin, but they had an abundance of flesh and blood, and enjoyed better health. Luther liked to play with his children, and to entertain his friends with his humorous table-talk. Zwingli also found recreation in poetry and music, and played on several instruments. A few years before his death, Calvin was compelled to speak of his work in self-defence against the calumnies of an ungrateful student and amanuensis, François Baudouin, a native of Arras, who ran away with some of Calvin’s papers, turned a Romanist, and publicly abused his benefactor. "I will not," he says, "enumerate the pleasures, conveniences, and riches I have renounced for Christ. I will only say that, had I the disposition of Baudouin, it would not have been very difficult for me to procure those things which he has always sought in vain, and which he now but too greedily gloats upon. But let that pass. Content with my humble fortune, my attention to frugality has prevented me from being a burden to anybody. I remain tranquil in my station, and have even given up a part of the moderate salary assigned to me, instead of asking for any increase. I devote all my care, labor, and study not only to the service of this Church, to which I am peculiarly bound, but to the assistance of all the Churches by every means in my power. I so discharge my office of a teacher, that no ambition may appear in my extreme faithfulness and diligence. I devour numerous griefs, and endure the rudeness of many; but my liberty is uncontrolled by the power of any man. I do not indulge the great by flattery; I fear not to give offence. No prosperity has hitherto inflated me; whilst I have intrepidly borne the many severe storms by which I have been tossed, till by the singular mercy of God I emerged from them.
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
When Calvin charged him with pantheism, Servetus restated his view in these words: "God is in all things by essence, presence, and power, and himself sustains all things."1114 Calvin admitted this, but denied the inference that the substantial Deity is in all creatures, and, as the latter confessed before the judges, even in the pavement on which they stand, and in the devils.1115 In his last reply to Calvin he tells him: "With Simon Magus you shut up God in a corner; I say, that he is all in all things; all beings are sustained in God."1116 He frequently refers with approval to Plato and the NeoPlatonists (Plotin, Jamblichus, Proclus, Porphyry).1117 But his views differ from the ordinary pantheism. He substitutes for a cosmopantheism a Christopantheism. Instead of saying, The world is the great God, he says, Christ is the great God.1118 By Christ, however, he means only the ideal Christ; for he denied the eternity of the real Christ. 4. Anthropology and Soteriology.1119 Servetus was called a Pelagian by Calvin. This is true only with some qualifications. He denied absolute predestination and the slavery of the human will, as taught first by all the Reformers. He admitted the fall of Adam in consequence of the temptation by the devil, and he admitted also hereditary sin (which Pelagius denied), but not hereditary guilt. Hereditary sin is only a disease for which the child is not responsible. (This was also the view of Zwingli.) There is no guilt without knowledge of good and evil.1120 Actual transgression is not possible before the time of age and responsibility, that is, about the twentieth year.1121 He infers this from such passages as Ex. 30:14; 38:26; Num. 14:29; 32:11; Deut. 1:39. The serpent has entered human flesh and taken possession of it. There is a thorn in the flesh, a law of the members antagonistic to the law of God; but this does not condemn infants, nor is it taken away in baptism (as the Catholics hold), for it dwells even in saints, and the conflict between the spirit and the serpent goes on through life.1122 But Christ offers his help to all, even to infants and their angels.1123 In the fallen state man has still a free-will, reason, and conscience, which connect him with the divine grace. Man is still the image of God. Hence the punishment of murder, which is an attack upon the divine majesty in man (Gen. 9:6). Every man is enlightened by the Logos (John 1:17). We are of divine origin (Acts 17:29). The doctrine of the, slavery of the human will is a great fallacy (magna fallacia), and turns divine grace into a pure machine. It makes men idle, and neglect prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. God is free himself and gives freedom to every man, and his grace works freely in man.
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
He seems to have received his early education in a Dominican convent and in the University of Saragossa, with a view at first to the clerical vocation. He was sent by his father to the celebrated law-school of Toulouse, where he studied jurisprudence for two or three years. The University of Toulouse was strictly orthodox, and kept a close watch against the Lutheran heresy. But it was there that he first saw a complete copy of the Bible, as Luther did after he entered the University of Erfurt. The Bible now became his guide. He fully adopted the Protestant principle of the supremacy and sufficiency of the Bible, but subjected it to his speculative fancy, and carried opposition to Catholic tradition much farther than the Reformers did. He rejected the oecumenical orthodoxy, while they rejected only the mediaeval scholastic orthodoxy. It is characteristic of his mystical turn of mind that he made the Apocalypse the basis of his speculations, while the sober and judicious Calvin never commented on this book. Servetus declared, in his first work, that the Bible was the source of all his philosophy and science, and to be read a thousand times.1038 He called it a gift of God descended from heaven.1039 Next to the Bible, he esteemed the ante-Nicene Fathers, because of their simpler and less definite teaching. He quotes them freely in his first book. We do not know whether, and how far, he was influenced by the writings of the Reformers. He may have read some tracts of Luther, which were early translated into Spanish, but he does not quote from them.1040 We next find Servetus in the employ of Juan Quintana, a Franciscan friar and confessor to the Emperor Charles V. He seems to have attended his court at the coronation by Pope Clement VII. in Bologna (1529), and on the journey to the Diet of Augsburg in 1530, which forms an epoch in the history of the Lutheran Reformation.1041 At Augsburg he may have seen Melanchthon and other leading Lutherans, but he was too young and unknown to attract much attention. In the autumn of 1530 he was dismissed from the service of Quintana; we do not know for what reason, probably on suspicion of heresy. We have no account of a conversion or moral struggle in any period of his life, such as the Reformers passed through. He never was a Protestant, either Lutheran or Reformed, but a radical at war with all orthodoxy. A mere youth of twenty-one or two, he boldly or impudently struck out an independent path as a Reformer of the Reformation. The Socinian society did not yet exist; and even there he would not have felt at home, nor would he have long been tolerated. Nominally, he remained in the Roman Church, and felt no scruple about conforming to its rites. As he stood alone, so he died alone, leaving an influence, but no school nor sect.
From Introduction to the Hebrew Bible and Deutero-Canonical Books (2018)
Bronze coin issued under Antigonus II, last of the Hasmonean kings, showing the sevenbranched menorah from the Temple. Israel Museum, Jerusalem. Second Maccabees dwells at length on the deaths of the martyrs, those Jews who refused to violate their religion and suffered death instead. Second Maccabees 6:18-31 tells the story of an old man named Eleazar who refused to eat swine’s flesh. The people supervising the persecution urged him to pretend to eat it, but he refused on the grounds that such pretense was not worthy of a man of his age. Eleazar then chose death over dishonor as a matter of dignity. Second Maccabees tells in gruesome detail the story of a mother and seven sons. The first brother invokes Deuteronomy 32 by affirming that God will have compassion on his servants. The second is more specific: “The king of the universe will raise us up to an everlasting renewal of life because we have died for his laws” (2 Macc 7:9). The faith of the brothers, then, is essentially the same as that of the “wise” in Daniel: they give up their lives in this world in the hope of exaltation after death. In 2 Maccabees, however, the resurrection has a distinctly physical character. One brother offers his hands to be cut off because he is confident that he will get them back again (7:11). The emphasis on bodily resurrection seems to be inspired by the circumstances of the story, where the bodies of the young men are subjected to torture. The words of the sixth brother shed light on another aspect of the situation. He tells the king that “we are suffering these things on our own account because of our sins against our own God” (7:18). Nonetheless, the king should not think that he will escape punishment. The theology of the brothers here follows a pattern familiar from the Hebrew Bible. Suffering is assumed to be a punishment for sin. Antiochus, like Assyria in Isaiah 10, is the rod of YHWH’s anger. But his own motivation is evil, and he will not escape punishment. Second Maccabees 8 proceeds with the story of Judas Maccabee. In this account, Judas begins by imploring God to respond to the blood of the innocent victims of the persecution. Then God’s wrath was turned to mercy. Chapter 9 reports the death of Antiochus Epiphanes. As in 1 Maccabees, the dying king realizes the mistake he made in attacking the Jews. According to 2 Maccabees, however, he even vows to become a Jew if he recovers. His promises, however,
From Introduction to the Hebrew Bible and Deutero-Canonical Books (2018)
a higher authority is an essential element of the biblical ethic. For modern culture, in contrast, the sky is the limit and people are constantly encouraged to “go for it.” One may debate the relative merits of the two approaches to life, but the fundamental difference between them must be acknowledged. Moreover, not everyone in antiquity subscribed to the kind of “philosophy of limit” that is implied in Genesis. The Greek sophists, in the fifth century B.C.E., taught that “man is the measure of all things.” In the Gnostic writings of the fourth and fifth centuries C.E., the serpent is viewed positively, as an instructor who wanted humanity to attain wisdom and illumination. The recognition of human limitation is a common feature of ancient wisdom outside the Bible as well. We have already referred to the theme of hubris in Greek tragedy. Those who aspire to rise too high, to be like gods, are doomed to catastrophe. This theme was also found in Near Eastern myth, and is reflected in the Bible in taunts of Gentile kings. In the book of Isaiah, the king of Babylon is taunted: “How you are fallen from heaven, O Day Star, son of dawn! How you are cut down to the ground, you who laid the nations low! You said in your heart, ‘I will ascend to heaven; I will raise my throne above the stars of God . . . I will make myself like the Most High.’ But you are brought down to Sheol, to the depths of the pit” (Isa 14:12-14). Ezekiel taunts the king of Tyre by telling him that he was (or thought he was) in “Eden, the garden of God,” but was driven out by a cherub (Ezekiel 28). In these cases, as in Greek tragedy, the sin that leads to the fall is simply pride. In Genesis it is disobedience, and the desire for “the knowledge of good and evil.” Also in Genesis this is not just the experience of a king or an extraordinary person, but of Adam, the archetypical and paradigmatic human being. The Date of the Yahwistic Creation Story Genesis 2:4b—3:24 is generally, and persuasively, regarded as the beginning of the J narrative because of the lively style and anthropomorphic presentation of God. There are some problems with the attribution, however. First, God is not just called YHWH as we might expect, but YHWH Elohim (“the L ORD God”).
From Introduction to the Hebrew Bible and Deutero-Canonical Books (2018)
of liberation for Israel but simply a clash between two groups that had competing economic interests. Two other features of the account in chapter 4 are noteworthy. First, Deborah, who is described as a prophetess but who acts as a judge in the usual sense of the term, accompanies the warrior judge Barak into battle. (She is not said to fight.) She forewarns Barak that the campaign will not end in his glory, “for the L ORD will give Sisera into the hand of a woman” (Judg 4:9). The woman in question, however, is not Deborah, but Jael, the wife of a Kenite. Since the Kenites were not an Israelite tribe (they are identified in Judg 4:11 as “the descendants of Hobab, the father-in-law of Moses”), Jael is a marginal figure on two accounts— she is a woman and not an Israelite. Yet she becomes the heroine of the battle by luring Sisera into her tent and killing him with a tentpeg while he was asleep. (The poetic account in Judg 5:26 gives the impression that she struck him with a heavy object, which is variously described as a mallet or a tentpeg, in poetic parallelism. The prose account clarifies the act by having her hammer the tentpeg through his temple.) For this she is pronounced “most blessed of women” in 5:24. The morality of her action, however, is problematic on several counts. Her clan was at peace with the Canaanites, so she was not trying to liberate it. She simply seems to have decided to back the winners in the battle. Moreover, the violation of a guest was regarded as a particularly heinous crime in the ancient world. (Compare the story of Sodom in Gen 19:8, where Lot offers his virgin daughters to the mob so that they will not molest the men, “for they have come under the shelter of my roof.”) Since Jael’s opportunism works to the benefit of Israel, however, no questions are raised about its morality. As in some stories in Genesis, the end (the benefit of Israel) justifies even dastardly means. There is some analogy between Jael and the heroine of one of the latest books of the Old Testament, the deuterocanonical or apocryphal book of Judith. Like Jael, Judith uses deception to assassinate an enemy of Israel. Unlike Jael, however, Judith could claim to be acting in defense of her own people when they were clearly the victims of aggression. We consider the story of Judith in more detail in chapter 26.
From Introduction to the Hebrew Bible and Deutero-Canonical Books (2018)
presented in a terse, matter-of-fact way, as a response to the prayers of Hezekiah and Isaiah (2 Chron 32:20). The glowingly positive account of Hezekiah contains one discordant note. According to 2 Chron 32:24-26, Hezekiah did not respond properly when he was healed from his illness. Therefore “wrath came upon him.” When he humbled himself, however, the wrath was deferred to a later time. There is only an indirect basis for this in 2 Kings. There, when Hezekiah shows his treasury to the Babylonian envoys, Isaiah prophesies that all that is in his house will be carried off to Babylon. Hezekiah is not troubled, since there will be peace in his days. In 2 Kings he is guilty at most of imprudence. The Chronicler requires a more theological explanation. The wrath of God must be punishment for a sin—in this case, pride. The account of Hezekiah ends on a positive note, however, emphasizing the wealth and prosperity he enjoyed. There is archaeological evidence for the prosperity of Judah in Hezekiah’s reign. The Chronicler’s account, however, may owe more to theology and ideology than to historical memory.
From Little Sister: A Memoir (2019)
Gagging and shaking, I shoveled a second helping of stew—onions and all—into my mouth, down my gullet, and in the pockets of my cheeks. It was done. Mary Catherine’s stew was gone. As I finished the last bite, I sped to the bathroom. Locking the door behind me, I heaved up the still unchewed onions, the thick gravy, the potatoes and carrots, flushing them down the toilet. From the faucet I filled my cupped hands with water to rinse out my mouth. I patted my face dry and returned to my place at the table next to Mary Catherine. She gave me a silent look of gratitude with a feeble smile. I felt victorious. We had won the battle that day. But what would tomorrow bring? I was sure my parents knew nothing about Mary Catherine’s eating problem. The Big Sisters and Brothers sat at the far end of the refectory, out of earshot and view of the children’s tables. What I wasn’t sure about was what would happen if I told them. Could they help her? They were no longer in charge of her, my brother, or me. Would I get into trouble if I spoke to them about it? I didn’t have the courage to dare. * * * I was about seven years old, just a year after the separation, when “pilgrimages” became part of our religious life. On the first Saturday of each month, the thirteen oldest children—we ranged in age from Mariam, who was now ten, to the youngest, who had recently turned five—made an all-morning trip outside our enclosure to visit one of the many parish churches in Boston. Initially, the idea seemed exciting—an opportunity to see the real world. But the reality was a far cry from the vision that danced in my head. These excursions were designed as a religious mission—to defy the Catholic authorities in the diocese of Boston who had brought about Father’s excommunication. By marching into parish churches and singing hymns, we were showing the world that we were indeed still Catholics, excommunicated or not. When word spread of our monthly escapade, Archbishop Cushing’s office notified the local parishes to be on the lookout for us. One sunny Saturday, the thirteen of us, chaperoned by Sister Maria Crucis and chauffeured by two of the Big Brothers, arrived midmorning at a nearly empty church. As we gathered in the vestibule, I was fascinated by the sunlight reflected in myriad colors through the stained glass windows and I breathed in the smell of the incense that hung in the air. We marched two by two in silence up the aisle, and when we reached the sanctuary, Sister Maria Crucis lined us up in front of the Communion rail, instructing us to kneel down. Dressed identically in our blue and white uniforms and with our hair in two long braids, there was no mistaking who we were—“Feeneyites,” the disparaging term the press used to describe us.
From Little Sister: A Memoir (2019)
A surge of adrenaline came over me as I silently gloated on my defiance. This was my decision to be here on out-of-bounds territory. I was coming to attend Midnight Mass, and she couldn’t stop me. She wouldn’t dare. However, when it came time to join the community in the line to receive Communion, I found myself gripped by that all-too-familiar sense of panic, one I had experienced so many times over the past decade. Should I slip out and return to St. Joseph’s House without taking Communion? The line was forming—I had to decide. What if Father refuses to serve me Communion? The ignominy of that scene would be unbearable. What will Sister Catherine do when she sees me? I resorted to prayer: Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I need your help . The line was moving forward, and I was in it. There was no turning back now. A clammy dampness spread across my hands, my neck, and my cheeks, and my knees shook like castanets as I neared the altar. Then I knelt down and waited for my turn to receive Communion. Don’t let Father skip over me, please, I prayed silently as he slowly made his way toward me. I crossed my hands on my chest, feeling the pounding of my heart inside. Then Father laid the host on my tongue. Before I could stand up, I felt his hand on my head, a soft, silent blessing that seemed to say, “God loves you.” My tension evaporated, replaced by an aura of calm. I had come to God, and He had not rejected me. I rose and walked in procession past Sister Catherine and the long pew of Big Sisters, past the spot where I’d been sitting, out of the chapel and into the wintry December air. In the midnight darkness, I made my way to St. Joseph’s House, feeling triumphant. I had conquered my fear. No one would intimidate me again. And ten hours later, when Father celebrated the Christmas morning mass, I was there in the chapel again, this time unafraid, uncowed, emboldened. Returning to St. Joseph’s House for Christmas breakfast, I was astounded to see half a dozen beautifully wrapped and ribboned presents under the tree. “They’re for you,” my mother said as we sat down to a feast she had prepared. For me? I thought. Sister Elizabeth Ann got these for me? Weeks earlier, I had tried to stop thinking about the fact that I wouldn’t get any Christmas presents. Since that first Christmas in Still River when Baby Jesus (whom I never believed in) brought us stockings full of gifts, I had reveled in opening presents—the mere act of untying ribbons and unwrapping paper never ceased to fill me with pleasure. After breakfast, I opened my gifts with Sister Elizabeth Ann—a pink sweater set, blouses, chocolate turtles with a note of Merry Christmas from my grandparents, and a small box in which there was a gold ring set with three small pearls.
From Little Sister: A Memoir (2019)
—Jesus Christ Superstar, Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well and Living in Paris, Hair, The Fantasticks—and the scores of top ten singles—“(The Lights Went Out in) Massachusetts,” “In the Ghetto,” “Crimson and Clover”—at the same time delving deep into my studies, writing papers long into the wee hours of the morning, and trekking into the financial district of Boston to open the office well before the partners could shake themselves into cognizance after a martini-laden evening that would soon be followed by a three-martini lunch. But I was respectful of the two men who ran the office, and while I was a neophyte in the world of finance, it was evident to me that they were not only hardworking but also successful. It was not lost on me that, despite their stature within the office, they were always courteous and made me feel like a member of their team. When I found myself with time on my hands, I’d bounce into their office and ask them if there wasn’t something I could do—anything. Before long, I was running errands for them all over town, a welcome diversion from sitting at the front desk and answering the telephone. I had been employed for eight months, when, at yearend, the partners invited me into their wood-paneled office and presented me with a $1500 bonus check. I was speechless—that was almost half of what I had made since I came to the firm. But equally as rewarding was the realization that these two men, who seemed bigger than life to me, were appreciative of my work. One day, not long after the bonus surprise, the two partners once again called me into their office. “We’d like you to do us a favor,” they said. They had been working on a deal, they explained, that was closing at the end of the week, and they needed me to go to New York to collect $5 million in checks from five separate investors. “Here’s a ticket to LaGuardia Airport on the shuttle for tomorrow morning, and a list of the places you need to go. A car and driver will take you to each of the destinations.” Me? Collect $5 million? In New York? On my own? I can do it, and they know I can. As I took the subway home that evening, I reveled in the realization that I, the receptionist, was selected over the half-dozen secretaries whose responsibilities and income were well above mine.
From Little Sister: A Memoir (2019)
The Center had, in a way, been a proving ground, particularly during the years of the court case when I had been perspicacious enough to realize that the very existence of the Center’s school rested on my shoulders. Rather than find the challenge frightening, I thrived on the pressure that acted like adrenaline. Once out in the world, what I lacked in knowledge and sophistication, I attempted to make up for with will power. The status of ingénue did not inhibit my drive. I entered the jungle of Wall Street at a time when professional women were almost an anomaly in the industry, and was fortunate to have had an array of mentors (all of them men) throughout my advancing career. Their guidance was sometimes direct but more often subtle, and perhaps their greatest value was inspiring me to play a similar role to young women (and men) in their own careers as mine was maturing. The glass ceiling was real, and I was aware that my drive and energy were at times a detriment to my advancement—the same work ethic in male counterparts was treated as leadership and rewarded. But resentment was a waste of energy and could only detract from the exhilaration I experienced in the charged world of investing. So, I gave myself the same advice on more than a few occasions when I knew I had been denied a promotion I deserved: You have two options. You can quit and go somewhere else, or you can prove them wrong. In all cases, I chose the latter, and never with regret. Around my fortieth birthday, my husband and I were having dinner in Manhattan and I let the words spill out without premeditation. It was almost as though I were being led by my guardian angel. “I don’t want to have a successful career at the risk of not having any children.” He was silent. It was an odd moment, because in our five years of marriage we had managed to elude a serious discussion about having children of our own. His three children, by now attending college or having graduated, were the focus of his energy, and I played my part as a supportive stepmother. He seemed content; I was not. But it was only a matter of days before he jumped on board and for the next four years we moved heaven and earth, engaging the most renowned specialists to bring to fruition what had been my, and now became our, dream. It wasn’t without its moments of grief with unsuccessful attempts at pregnancy. But there