This is the first 2 verses of the Book of Sirach (or The Wisdom of Ben Sira, and also referred to as Ecclesiasticus). It is included in the Catholic Bible, but not the Protestant version of the Bible. Sirach contains so much valuable insight for us today. It is a shame that it was removed. The loss of that ancient wisdom has likely contributed to much of our current cultural decline we see today. I will now go through some excerpts of Sirach to demonstrate.

Sirach starts with the basics of wisdom, which is fear of the Lord. Today’s “Once Saved, Always Saved” (OSAS) mentality has the unintended effect of diminishing the motivation to maintain fear of the Lord.

11 The fear of the Lord is glory and exultation,

gladness and a festive crown.

12 The fear of the Lord rejoices the heart,

giving gladness, joy, and long life.

13 Those who fear the Lord will be happy at the end,

even on the day of death they will be blessed.

Fear of the Lord also properly prevents anger, which is rampant these days.

The root of wisdom is to fear the Lord;

her branches are long life.

21 The fear of the Lord drives away sins;

where it abides it turns back all anger.

22 Unjust anger can never be justified;

anger pulls a person to utter ruin.

23 Until the right time, the patient remain calm,

then cheerfulness comes back to them.

24 Until the right time they hold back their words;

then the lips of many will tell of their good sense.

Next, Sirach teaches us how to properly endure trials, which will come.

My child, when you come to serve the Lord,

prepare yourself for trials.

2 Be sincere of heart and steadfast,

and do not be impetuous in time of adversity.

3 Cling to him, do not leave him,

that you may prosper in your last days.

4 Accept whatever happens to you;

in periods of humiliation be patient.

5 For in fire gold is tested,

and the chosen, in the crucible of humiliation.

6 Trust in God, and he will help you;

make your ways straight and hope in him.

Sirach also warns against ‘timid hearts’ which we see today, full of sloth and lacking in fortitude, ready to give up and retreat into safety & security.

Woe to timid hearts and drooping hands,

to the sinner who walks a double path!

13 Woe to the faint of heart! For they do not trust,

and therefore have no shelter!

14 Woe to you that have lost hope!

what will you do at the Lord’s visitation?

Next, Sirach makes it unequivocally clear the importance of honoring your father. The lack of reverence to the father is evident across the culture today, where feminism and matriarchy are the norm and a “third rail” — an untouchable reality that can never be questioned or ridiculed.

For the Lord sets a father in honor over his children

and confirms a mother’s authority over her sons.

3 Those who honor their father atone for sins;

4 they store up riches who respect their mother.

5 Those who honor their father will have joy in their own children,

and when they pray they are heard.

6 Those who respect their father will live a long life;

those who obey the Lord honor their mother.

7 Those who fear the Lord honor their father,

and serve their parents as masters.

How many TV shows & commercials today make fun of our fathers? Yet Sirach warns against that:

My son, be steadfast in honoring your father;

do not grieve him as long as he lives.

13 Even if his mind fails, be considerate of him;

do not revile him because you are in your prime.

There are many verses here that Protestants would have a problem with, thus it is not surprising that they removed this book. Here is one example that goes against their OSAS mentality.

Do not be so confident of forgiveness

that you add sin upon sin.

6 Do not say, “His mercy is great;

my many sins he will forgive.”

For mercy and anger alike are with him;

his wrath comes to rest on the wicked.

In the New Testament, there are verses against a vulgar tongue, but Sirach did it first:

Be swift to hear,

but slow to answer.

12 If you can, answer your neighbor;

if not, place your hand over your mouth!

13 Honor and dishonor through speaking!

The tongue can be your downfall.

14 Do not be called double-tongued;

and with your tongue do not slander a neighbor.

Next, Sirach warns us to not blindly obey our unruly passions. As cowboy philosophers would say, “bridle your passions,”

Do not fall into the grip of your passion,

lest like fire it consume your strength.

3 It will eat your leaves and destroy your fruits,

and you will be left like a dry tree.

4 For fierce passion destroys its owner

and makes him the sport of his enemies.

Sirach goes into great detail on the blessings of wisdom (which he compares to soil that, while appearing rough, can produce bountiful fruit to those who till it.

He describes the value of faithful friendship, good conduct toward God and neighbor, and duties of family life. Contrast this advice to the lax discipline in households today.

Do you have sons? Correct them

and cure their stubbornness in their early youth.

24 Do you have daughters? Keep them chaste,

and do not be indulgent to them.

25 Give your daughter in marriage, and a worry comes to an end;

but give her to a sensible man.

26 Do you have a wife? Do not mistreat her,

but do not trust the wife you hate.

Sirach once again gives advice that refutes OSAS mentality,

In whatever you do, remember your last days,

and you will never sin.

Sirach warns against our current mentality of living above our means, borrowing too much money, becoming indebted to our lenders, banks, employers, etc, the opposite of what has been the fruit of the “Protestant Work Ethic.”

Do not contend with the mighty,

lest you fall into their power.

2 Do not quarrel with the rich,

lest they pay out the price of your downfall.

For gold has unsettled many,

and wealth perverts the character of princes.

In Chapter 9, Sirach gives a stern warning to men against getting involved with “strange women.”

“Do not give a woman power over you” — how much do we need this advice today? Even men who are single can still have a strange woman holding power over him.

Do not be jealous of the wife of your bosom,

lest you teach her to do evil against you.

2 Do not give a woman power over you

to trample on your dignity.

3 Do not go near a strange woman,

lest you fall into her snares.

4 Do not dally with a singer,

lest you be captivated by her charms.

5 Do not entertain any thoughts about a virgin,

lest you be enmeshed in damages for her.

6 Do not give yourself to a prostitute

lest you lose your inheritance.

Sirach gives many wise words of advice on:

• keeping friends with righteous people,

• choosing friends wisely, and keeping them,

• avoiding the wicked (but not despising them),

• avoiding pride,

• showing proper honor to each other,

• respecting the poor,

• displaying moderation & patience,

• taking life in stride,

• being on guard for the snakes (betrayers) in your midst,

• guarding one’s tongue,

• using wealth appropriately,

• meditating on wisdom,

• keeping one’s conscience clean,

• admitting one’s sins are from one’s free will (“Set before you are fire and water”),

• accepting one’s just punishment from God,

• the evidence of God’s Hand in all Creation,

• appealing for men to return to God,

• the mercy of God,

• the need for prudence,

• the need for self-control,

• the need for moderation (drink wine, but not to get drunk),

• the need for cautious speech (“Never repeat gossip”),

• the difference between the wise and the foolish,

• keeping secrets between friends,

• avoiding malice, revenge, and bickering,

• how to behave in another man’s house (“A fool steps boldly into a house,
  while the well-bred are slow to make an entrance”),

• how children are to behave and how they show respect to their father (“A thoughtful daughter obtains a husband of her own”),

• some very practical advice on interacting with those of limited mental capacity, (“Do not talk much with the stupid”),

• several more warnings against wicked women, basically advising us to keep them at distance,

At Chapter 26, Sirach gets into a poetic and romantic voice, giving us verses that one can use at weddings,

Happy the husband of a good wife;
the number of his days will be doubled.

and later, in another chapter, he adds more to this,

A woman’s beauty makes her husband’s face light up,

for it surpasses all else that delights the eye.

28 And if, besides, her speech is soothing,

her husband’s lot is beyond that of mortal men.

29 A wife is her husband’s richest treasure,

a help like himself and a staunch support.

but again warning us against taking a wicked woman for a wife,

A wicked wife is a chafing yoke;

taking hold of her is like grasping a scorpion.

Sirach writes about how a righteous man can prosper and gain wealth, but do not obtain wealth by giving up righteousness,

For the sake of profit many sin,

and the struggle for wealth blinds the eyes.

2 A stake will be driven between fitted stones—

sin will be wedged in between buying and selling.

3 Unless one holds fast to the fear of the Lord,

with sudden swiftness will one’s house be thrown down.

Solid financial advice, especially when lending or borrowing, comes in Chapter 29,

The merciful lend to their neighbor,

by holding out a helping hand, they keep the commandments.

2 Lend to your neighbor in his time of need,

and pay back your neighbor in time.

3 Keep your promise and be honest with him,

and at all times you will find what you need.

4 Many borrowers ask for a loan

and cause trouble for those who help them.

5 Till he gets a loan, he kisses the lender’s hand

and speaks softly of his creditor’s money,

But at time of payment, delays,

makes excuses, and finds fault with the timing.

6 If he can pay, the lender will recover barely half,

and will consider that a windfall.

Sirach even has the phrase that airline stewardesses repeat on every flight,

Help your neighbor according to your means,

but take care lest you fall yourself.

More tidbits of wisdom such as:

• frugality,

• generosity,

• gratitude,

• proper hosting of banquets

Again Sirach gets into training of children, in Chapter 30,

Whoever disciplines a son will benefit from him,

and boast of him among acquaintances.

3 Whoever educates a son will make his enemy jealous,

and rejoice in him among his friends.

…

Whoever spoils a son will have wounds to bandage,

and will suffer heartache at every cry.

8 An untamed horse turns out stubborn;

and a son left to himself grows up unruly.

9 Pamper a child and he will be a terror for you,

indulge him, and he will bring you grief.

Sirach advises us to remain cheerful:

Do not give in to sadness,

or torment yourself deliberately.

Do not be jealous of the rich, and when you are rich, remain free from sin, and live virtuously as if you were not.

Do not overeat at table,

Are you seated at the table of the great?

Bring to it no greedy gullet,

…

Eat, like anyone else, what is set before you,

but do not eat greedily, lest you be despised.

17 Be the first to stop, as befits good manners;

and do not gorge yourself, lest you give offense.

…

If you are chosen to preside at a dinner, do not be puffed up,

but with the guests be as one of them;

Take care of them first and then sit down;

2 see to their needs, and then take your place,

To share in their joy

and receive a wreath for a job well done.

3 You who are older, it is your right to speak,

but temper your knowledge and do not interrupt the singing.

Sirach returns again to the wisdom of fearing the Lord:

Whoever seeks God must accept discipline;

and whoever resorts to him obtains an answer.

15 Whoever seeks the law will master it,

but the hypocrite will be ensnared by it.

16 Whoever fears the Lord will understand what is right,

and out of obscurity he will draw forth a course of action.

Trust in the Lord, not in your dreams,

Empty and false are the hopes of the senseless,

and dreams give wings to fools.

As you can plainly see, The Book of Sirach is full of wise advice, even for modern day, expressed in clever phrases to help us remember (even though he has an overabundance of analogies, and we all know the problems with analogies).

But Sirach is not, as Protestants might claim, simply a book of wise sayings, a book only about morals and conduct and nothing about faith. They use that false perception to make one think that Sirach is not inspired by the Holy Spirit. However, we can see that Sirach speaks about proper sacrifice, and this is very helpful for us to enter the Mass with a proper understanding of sacrifice:

Do not appear before the Lord empty-handed,

7 for all that you offer is in fulfillment of the precepts.

8 The offering of the just enriches the altar:

a sweet odor before the Most High.

9 The sacrifice of the just is accepted,

never to be forgotten.

10 With a generous spirit pay homage to the Lord,

and do not spare your freewill gifts.

11 With each contribution show a cheerful countenance,

and pay your tithes in a spirit of joy.

12 Give to the Most High as he has given to you,

generously, according to your means.

13 For he is a God who always repays

and will give back to you sevenfold.

and praising God:

Send up the sweet odor of incense,

break forth in blossoms like the lily.

Raise your voices in a chorus of praise;

bless the Lord for all his works!

Sirach tells us in many different ways to use wisdom in making decisions on:

• selecting associates,

• selecting a wife,

• selecting counselors,

• selecting our doctors,

• selecting our workers,

• accepting the ups and downs of life,

• accepting death

In Chapter 42, Sirach gives us the difference between true shame & false shame,

My children, listen to instruction about shame;

16a judge of disgrace according to my rules,

16b Not every kind of shame is shameful,

nor is every kind of disgrace to be recognized.

Finally, Sirach finishes with poetic verses on:

• the beauty of God’s creation,

• praise for the ancestors,

• praise for the old prophets & priests,

• praise for the old judges & kings

After 50 chapters, Sirach closes out, as always, with explaining why we should know these things and care about wisdom:

Happy those who meditate upon these things;

wise those who take them to heart!

Sirach, therefore, is an essential part of the Bible, and the removal of that book has come with a great detriment to our society & our culture. All of Christendom and the West has begun to crumble under its own weight without the inspired words of Ben Sira.

What are we to do about it? How shall we respond? Can we even win this fight, or is decline inevitable?

As we see in Sirach, we must always fight on,

Always. Non nobis,

In Galatians 5:12, Paul gets a little feisty and impatient with his critics, and delivers a line that is rarely mentioned in polite company or at Sunday church services these days. I will repeat here using the Amplified Bible translation which gives the full meaning of the idioms in context:

“I wish that those who are troubling you [by teaching that circumcision is necessary for salvation] would even [go all the way and] castrate themselves!”

Preachers and online religious pundits alike have trouble with this one. At initial glance, it goes against the softer tone of Paul in other letters, such as Ephesians 4:29 when he cautions,

“Do not let unwholesome [foul, profane, worthless, vulgar] words ever come out of your mouth, but only such speech as is good for building up others, according to the need and the occasion, so that it will be a blessing to those who hear [you speak].”

In reality, these 2 verses are not at odds with one another, provided one understands the need for both, and when to employ them.

The problem is that online social media evangelical pundits often do not know. They want so badly to become Paul, the Paul of Galatians 5:12, that they forget the journey that got him there.

Paul did not simply show up and, by virtue of his knowledge of Scripture, become automatically accepted. On the contrary, Paul had to work hard to prove himself trustworthy against his own past sins of persecuting the Church (persecuting Christ Himself).

And even then, he slowly built trust in each of the communities he visited. His letters were written years later, after he already established his credibility.

All Things to All Men

In 1 Corinthians 9, Paul delivered his famous “all things to all men” line.

Paul became a slave.

He became a Jew (or more of one).

He became a Gentile.

He became a Roman.

He became as the weak.

In other words, he sat down with people first before he lectured them from afar. He “walked a mile in another man’s moccasins” as the Native American proverb states.

How was Paul able to do that?

Let us remember who Paul was — a tracker named Saul of Tarsus. Saul knew the territory. After the stoning of Stephen and local arrests in Jerusalem, he expanded outward, obtaining an official letter from the high priest to travel to Damascus with jurisdiction hunt & arrest the followers of Christ and bring them back for punishment.

He developed persuasion and guile and knowledge of men and their motivations and how tactics of fear will force them to recant.

Saul studied the life of mankind to be an effective weapon of death.

When he became Paul at his conversion on the road to Damascus, he did not simply become a nice, soft preacher type that we see today, with an occasional outburst of angry energy as seen in Galatians 5:12.

No, he still retained the cunning of Saul of Tarsus, but now he deployed those tactics in the service of being a fisher of men rather than a hunter of men.

Every word he spoke (or wrote) was coldly calculated not heatedly vented.

His words of Galatians 5:12 and other verses was designed with the precision of a surgeon’s blade.

We would do well not to dismiss it as the loose tongue of a man overwhelmed by religious zeal.

Paul used the skills developed by Saul, but used them for Christ.

A Knight Must Also Become All Things to All Men

Ancient knights studied more than weaponry & combat, but they also studied poetry, music and art, plus virtue and philosophy. They did this to become well-rounded citizens of their kingdom and of the eternal kingdom. By doing this, they learned diplomacy, negotiation, and navigating geopolitical alliances and rivalries.

Modern knights must do the same in their own marriages, families and local communities.

Sometimes that takes a little bit of Saul’s cunning, mixed with Paul’s humility.

You have to push the limit, and then back down slightly, and that can be uncomfortable.

That is our challenge today.

The new Crusade is not in a distant land; it is here within the walls of our own castle.

Non nobis

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Recently on X, Frankie Muniz posted a divorce announcement on X:

While this is tragic for him, this is also a warning for us. This failing “no fault” culture needs to be addressed.

Background: Frankie also previously had released a video that seemingly celebrated their divorce. He deleted it, but you can find it here:

Then he explained,

“It wasn’t to celebrate our divorce. Far from it. We grieved our divorce beyond anything you can imagine. It was to celebrate the fact that we’re both adults and can handle it like adults moving forward, amicably. Everyone is just used to the hideous mudslinging a lot of couples do at the end of a relationship so they don’t know how to take it when two people are cordial.”

The user reactions on X fell into 2 broad categories:

A) You should not celebrate divorce / you should not get divorced / remember your wedding vows / “think of the children!”

B) Actually, this is a very mature decision and it is what is best for all involved, at least they are not fighting

My reaction was this sentence

“This is America in a nutshell”

Here is why.

1) that video was bizarre, not mature, and the follow-up / replacement explanation post was filled with cope therapy buzzwords that people say to pretend the divorce is not as bad as it is

2) they want praise without accountability

3) they are hiding from us the details (which are lessons for us, if we use them properly).

They want us to applaud their decisions & actions while simultaneously feel sorry for them that they grieved it.

And they refuse to accept any criticism.

And they shield themselves from accountability with “respect their privacy.”

That’s what makes it “America in a nutshell.”

Not merely the fact that they divorced,

But that they made it into a reality TV show,

all while spouting platitudes and modern psycho-babble talking points without sharing for our sake any hard lessons that might prevent this scenario in the future.

A culture & society cannot survive long like this.

Divorce is bad enough.

They made a spectacle of it.

A truly mature position by Frankie would be this:

“It was my fault. I should have ...

(then either)

[never gotten married in the first place]

(or)

[recognized her needs and done a better job of leading].”

This whole new paradigm of declaring,

“Nobody is at fault...

...but feel sorry for us...

...but celebrate how mature we are...”

is a sign of an immature society.

Read more

Brothers, check out my audio summary of the book Catholic Republic by Timothy Gordon.

I debate with Protestants on X a lot, and most of them misunderstand what I mean when I talk about a Catholic Republic, so hopefully this book review will help enlighten them.

It does not mean that all Catholic countries are always better, so please, stop sending me examples of Catholic countries that have failed. You are missing the point.

The point is that the only the Catholic Church has developed the correct reasons that we have the capacity for a true republic. Protestant theology does not allow for it. Their views on depravity and reluctance to accept anything other than Scripture is a hindrance to the concept that man is capable of self-governance.

Luther wanted to get rid of some of the influence of Aristotle and the Scholastic. Luther and Calvin kind of disagreed on this, but Calvin kind talks about man as totally depraved, and still in bondage to sin, blinded and incapable.

In other words, when you really follow Protestant thought down far enough, you discover that they really can’t reconcile with the idea of man being able to self-govern because self-governance requires man to be able to reason and have clear thought and to be able to perfect himself through the grace of God and obviously Protestants when they get down to it reject those principles.

That’s the heart of this identity crisis that is in America today.

Protestants believe we are not free. We are slaves to sin and that sort of thing.

Even after we become “saved” in their view, it’s just a cover over us that imputed righteousness rather than infused righteousness.

We will not “get back” to a strong republic by trying to restore a failed implementation of Natural Law. Our goal should be to implement the true version of Catholic Natural Law, and one does not have to be Catholic to appreciate it!

Listen to the book review on your commute and continue the discussion!

Non nobis!

Check out the book review in my podcast section (for paid subscribers only):

Brothers, check out my audio summary of the book Catholic Republic by Timothy Gordon.

I debate with Protestants on X a lot, and most of them misunderstand what I mean when I talk about a Catholic Republic, so hopefully this book review will help enlighten them.

It does not mean that all Catholic countries are always better, so please, stop sending me exam…

Read more

A non-Catholic on X challenged me on transubstantiation by making the assertion that these early church fathers all taught that the Eucharist is symbolic.

As is my habit, I take these online debates and turn them into Substack content, especially because I know I will eventually get this same question again, and I do not want to repeat the same reply twice.

Here is the post on X:

I asked him to give citations, and he replied with these:

Justin: Dialogue with Trypho, 70

Clement: The Instructor, 2.2

Origen: Against Celsus, 8.57

Cyprian: Epistle 63.7

Eusebius: Demonstratia Evangelica, 8.1.76–80

Athanasius: Festal Letter, 4.19

Augustine: Exposition of the Psalms, 99.8

He would not give me more specifics, so I tracked down myself a website where he (or AI) might have gotten these lists of citations. Here is the website,

https://blog.tms.edu/did-the-early-church-teach-transubstantiation

And I will quote from the website, and then answer as to why these quotes do not support what he claims.

Justin Martyr (110–165) spoke of “the bread which our Christ gave us to offer in remembrance of the Body which He assumed for the sake of those who believe in Him, for whom He also suffered, and also to the cup which He taught us to offer in the Eucharist, in commemoration of His blood”(Dialogue with Trypho, 70).

Clement of Alexandria explained that, “The Scripture, accordingly, has named wine the symbol of the sacred blood” (The Instructor, 2.2).

Origen similarly noted, “We have a symbol of gratitude to God in the bread which we call the Eucharist” (Against Celsus, 8.57).

Cyprian (200–258), who sometimes described the eucharist using very literal language, spoke against any who might use mere water for their celebration of the Lord’s Table. In condemning such practices, he explained that the cup of the Lord is a representation of the blood of Christ: “I marvel much whence this practice has arisen, that in some places, contrary to Evangelical and Apostolic discipline, water is offered in the Cup of the Lord, which alone cannot represent the Blood of Christ” (Epistle 63.7).

Eusebius of Caesarea (263–340) espoused a symbolic view in his Proof of the Gospel:

For with the wine which was indeed the symbol of His blood, He cleanses them that are baptized into His death, and believe on His blood, of their old sins, washing them away and purifying their old garments and vesture, so that they, ransomed by the precious blood of the divine spiritual grapes, and with the wine from this vine, “put off the old man with his deeds, and put on the new man which is renewed into knowledge in the image of Him that created him.” . . . He gave to His disciples, when He said, “Take, drink; this is my blood that is shed for you for the remission of sins: this do in remembrance of me.” And, “His teeth are white as milk,” show the brightness and purity of the sacramental food. For again, He gave Himself the symbols of His divine dispensation to His disciples, when He bade them make the likeness of His own Body. For since He no more was to take pleasure in bloody sacrifices, or those ordained by Moses in the slaughter of animals of various kinds, and was to give them bread to use as the symbol of His Body, He taught the purity and brightness of such food by saying, “And his teeth are white as milk” (Demonstratia Evangelica, 8.1.76–80).

Athanasius (296–373) similarly contended that the elements of the Eucharist are to be understood spiritually, not physically: “[W]hat He says is not fleshly but spiritual. For how many would the body suffice for eating, that it should become the food for the whole world? But for this reason He made mention of the ascension of the Son of Man into heaven, in order that He might draw them away from the bodily notion, and that from henceforth they might learn that the aforesaid flesh was heavenly eating from above and spiritual food given by Him.” (Festal Letter, 4.19)

Augustine (354–430), also, clarified that the Lord’s Table was to be understood in spiritual terms: “Understand spiritually what I said; you are not to eat this body which you see; nor to drink that blood which they who will crucify me shall pour forth. . . . Although it is needful that this be visibly celebrated, yet it must be spiritually understood” (Exposition of the Psalms, 99.8).

To answer all these arguments at once, I am going to first refer to an article that references a Protestant scholar who warns against these arguments.

https://www.catholic.com/audio/ddp/eucharist-as-symbol-in-the-fathers

Protestant historian J.N.D. Kelly writes: “Occasionally these writers use language which has been held to imply that, for all its realist sound, their use of the terms ‘body’ and ‘blood’ may after all be merely symbolical. Tertullian, for example, refers to the bread as ‘a figure’ ( figura) of Christ’s body, and once speaks of ‘the bread by which he represents (repraesentat) his very body’ (Early Christian Doctrines, 212).

However, Kelly warns: “Yet we should be cautious about interpreting such expressions in a modern fashion. According to ancient modes of thought a mysterious relationship existed between the thing symbolized and its symbol, figure or type; the symbol in some sense was the thing symbolized” (ibid.).

Thus Tertullian’s statement that the Eucharist “represents” Christ’s body must be understood in its ancient context:

With that warning said, let us now explain further how we should look at the evolution of the language of the Church.

In Apostolic era, the fathers believed the Eucharist really becomes Christ’s Body and Blood.

When they wrote about the Eucharist, they would describe it by how it appears to the senses.

Paul still describes it as “bread” even after consecration, but he also says, “Whoever eats unworthily is guilty of the body and blood.”

In other words, they first describe the plain reality, then they point out what really happens spiritually. They will use both words or phrases to indicate the physical reality AND the spiritual reality.

So while Justin Martyr does say the words “remembrance” and “commemoration” he also says this, “We do not receive these as common bread and drink.”

Therefore anyone citing one Justin Martyr quote without including the other is guilty of quote-mining.

Remember also that the pagans accused the early Christians of cannibalism. The fathers would therefore write in symbolic language, which was not a denial of the reality. Why? Because in Greek theology, “symbolon” means “a reality that makes present another reality.”

Symbol is not merely a metaphor, as people might think today.

We can repeat this pattern with every other early father quote, Clement through Augustine (Patristic era). Whenever they say “symbol” we can think of as a hidden reality. Then they explain that reality.

Clement: says that believers “drink the blood of Jesus.”

Origen: says “that bread which God the Word confesses to be His body is the word that nourishes souls.”

And “You who are accustomed to take part in the divine mysteries know how, when you receive the Body of the Lord, you guard it with all care.”

Cyprian: his quote is a little different, in that he is complaining that some are not using a mixture of wine and water, but merely water, so he says, “water is offered in the Cup of the Lord, which alone cannot represent the Blood of Christ.”

What Cyprian is writing about is liturgical abuse. They are all supposed to mix water with wine to represent the unity of Christ with the Church. It is symbolism mixed on top of the belief in the Real Presence. Cyprian repeatedly speaks of the Eucharist as “the Lord’s sacrifice.”

Eusebius: also writes, “We are taught to offer… the sacrifice of His body and blood.”

So while he first mentions “He no more was to take pleasure in bloody sacrifices” this matches with the Eucharist being considered an unbloody sacrifice, with the “symbol of His Body” being the thing that it symbolizes.

Athanasius: writes, “Before the prayers… it is bread and wine;” but he follows that with “after the prayers… it becomes the body and blood.”

Augustine: “Christ bore Himself in His own hands.”

In summary, these early church fathers taught all these things:

• Eucharist is symbol or figure, which means a mystical sign

• Eucharist is Body and Blood

• Eucharist is a sacrifice

• Eucharist can be profaned and must be treated reverently

Later, as Christianity spread and was more acceptable, from Patristic to the Medieval era, the language became more refined, with more Aristotelian metaphysics (“substance/accidents”), but the concept was the same.

It is only in modern times do we see this quote-mining where everything that was called “symbol” then is twisted to mean merely “metaphor.”

Non nobis

A man in one of the men’s groups in which I belong posted something that really is insightful, and it even deserves a full article, (although brief). I have his permission to share.

“Have everything but own nothing”

“This week I was reading and contemplating the story of Abraham and Isaac and how God told him to sacrifice his son. God had to remove Isaac from the pedestal of his heart to bring him to a place where he has everything but own nothing. I had to think about where my wife is in my heart and had to come to realization that I did put her higher than God in my heart. I have to let her go and put God in His rightful place!”

This is probably one of the biggest self-imposed limitations that we men place upon ourselves as husbands.

If we fear our wives more than we fear God, we will not truly have either. We will be always making compromises to appease everyone’s feelings. We will not be leading them to a better version of themselves.

Even after being aware of this, it is not easy to implement. It takes virtue, especially fortitude, which is built over time through the practice of prayer and sacrifice. This is why the fallback position of appeasing our wives is so popular. Not because it is the godly thing, but because we refuse to accept the uncomfortable situations and carry our cross on their behalf.

This short article is by no means easy to fully digest. Take a moment and ask yourself how you are in some ways doing this same thing.

Non nobis.

PS - women tend to do this with their kids, putting the kid’s immediate satisfaction ahead of whatever is best for them and the whole family, according to God’s plan.

One of the most common criticisms Catholics hear from some Protestant circles is simple and sweeping: “That’s pagan.” Relics? Pagan. Saints? Pagan. Liturgical worship? Pagan. Holy days? Pagan. The word becomes a catch-all label for anything that feels unfamiliar or “too old.”

See this typical example:

“Eww! Bones! Creepy & cringy! Ergo, pagan!”

This is an opportunity to clarify an important historical issue: what did the early Christians actually mean when they spoke about paganism?

If we want to understand the term honestly, we must return to how the early Church encountered paganism in the ancient world.

In the first centuries after Christ, Christians lived inside the religious ecosystem of the Greco-Roman world. Paganism was not an aesthetic style, a ritual form, or the mere presence of symbols and ceremonies. Paganism was a religious worldview. It was a network of beliefs about gods, sacrifices, fate, and the cosmos that contradicted the Gospel. When early Christians spoke against paganism, they were speaking about a living religious system centered on polytheism, civic sacrifice, and the worship of created powers instead of the Creator.

The core features of pagan religion were unmistakable. Pagan worship revolved around sacrifices offered to many gods, participation in temple cults, divination, astrology, magic, and the idea that divine power could be manipulated through ritual. The Roman state itself required public sacrifice to the gods as a sign of civic loyalty. This is why Christians were persecuted: not because they had rituals, but because they refused to participate in pagan sacrifice1. Their refusal was seen as atheism and treason.

Early Christian writers were very clear about what paganism meant. Justin Martyr argued that pagan worship involved offering sacrifice to demons masquerading as gods2. Tertullian condemned participation in pagan festivals because they were acts of religious worship directed toward false deities3. Later, Augustine of Hippo wrote extensively against pagan religion, explaining that the problem was not ritual itself but the object of worship. In his view, the pagan tragedy was the worship of creation rather than the Creator4.

This distinction is crucial. The early Church never believed that rituals, sacred objects, feast days, or reverence for holy people were inherently pagan. In fact, Christianity from the beginning was profoundly sacramental and physical. Christians gathered for liturgy, honored the martyrs, preserved their remains, celebrated feast days, fasted, prayed at specific hours, and treated churches as sacred spaces. None of this was controversial among Christians. What was controversial was offering sacrifice to Jupiter (or Caesar), consulting oracles, or invoking spirits for power.

When the Church encountered pagan culture, its response was not to abolish every cultural practice. Instead, it followed a consistent strategy: reject what is idolatrous, purify what is cultural, and consecrate what is human. This approach was rooted in the belief that Christ came to redeem the world, not erase it.

This explains why Christians could convert temples into churches, transform festivals into Christian feasts, or reinterpret cultural customs in a Christian way. The Church saw this as victory, not compromise. Paganism was not defeated by stripping humanity of ritual and beauty; it was defeated by redirecting human worship toward the true God.

This historical reality creates a problem for the modern habit of calling Catholic practices “pagan.” The early Church never defined paganism as “having rituals,” “using images,” “honoring holy people,” or “preserving relics.” Those things existed inside Christianity from the beginning. The dividing line was always theological: Who is being worshipped? and Where is sacrifice directed?

Veneration of relics5, for example, emerged directly from the Christian reverence for martyrs who died refusing pagan sacrifice. The bodies of the martyrs were treasured precisely because they testified to victory over pagan religion6. To call this pagan would have baffled the early Christians, who saw relics as trophies of triumph over paganism.

In the ancient world, paganism meant the worship of false gods and participation in their cults. It meant sacrifices offered to the powers of nature, the empire, or the spiritual realm apart from the one true God. It did not mean ceremony, symbolism, beauty, or reverence7.

Recovering this historical definition matters. When the word “pagan” is stretched to mean “anything pre-Christian cultures did,” it loses its meaning entirely. The early Christians knew exactly what paganism was—and they gave their lives refusing to participate in it.

Understanding their world helps us use the word with the same clarity they did.

Non nobis.

Footnotes

Read more

Protestants need a real Reformation, badly.

And so do we, those who live in a world largely governed by the aftermath of the original Protestant Reformation (circa 1517). This Reformation did not merely address some administrative abuses (the sale of indulgences), it stripped away the ordained priesthood (and thus the Eucharist and Reconciliation / Confession), the sacramental lifestyle, and split “good works” away from faith. Additionally (and many modern Protestants overlook this) it also removed the influence of rationality that integrated the natural philosophy of Aristotle through the efforts of Thomas Aquinas and the Scholastics. In a word, it was a Reduction, because it reduced faith to something almost meaningless in practice.

Ever since then, there has been a never-ending waterfall of mini reformations (or dare I say mini revolutions) to the original Reformation, to the point where the modern Protestant landscape looks nothing like the original version. Yes, it has the same (flawed) theology as foundation (in theory) but a different real-world outcome in practice.

Some of you might claim to hold faithfully to the original “confessions” but so what? That is only you & few other hold-outs. The rest of Protestant Land has moved on, and you are powerless to stop them.

Sola Fide: Batteries Not Required

There is an old joke by comedian Steven Wright:

Well, in real-world Protestantism, the mantra is,

Some of you might protest, stating “But I follow the Ten Commandments!”

Sure, maybe you still do. But a large portion out there in Protestant Land does not, and considers those as optional. The proof is in the pudding. You shall be known by your fruits, and these fruits are not good. Five hundred years of Sola Fide has encouraged passivity.

See also my previous article on the Heresy of Quietism.

Calling for a new Reformation?

Protestant leaders need to call a grand council or something to address the current landscape of passivity, but you all have no mechanism for doing so. One denomination might call a council but the other denominations would not join. It is utter chaos right now.

Besides, how many reformations do you need? I see some groups out there calling themselves “reformed” Christians or “reformed” Evangelicals. What was wrong with the first reformation? and how many will you need before you stop?

What is needed right now to save Protestantism is Catholicism.

Specifically, the Catholic understanding of the difference between initial justification by grace through faith (which Protestants agree on) and ongoing justification or sanctification and faith working through love (which Protestants contend on).

Actually, this is where Protestant Land begins to have a major split. Many Protestants will agree to the importance of works & following the commandments, but they will categorize it as “works are a fruit of faith.” The other half of Protestant Land will downplay the significance of works at all (this is only a generic statement; I do not have a breakdown of the numbers so do not ask).

But if good works can be a litmus test of faith, such that if there are no good works then we can question if there is faith, then why can we not say that good works (“faith working through love") is a requirement? To me, this division is mostly a semantic one, a chicken & the egg scenario. Is it worth arguing over which comes first, as long as we agree that both go together?

This is why I think Protestantism would benefit from calling a grand council to clarify this question, and the similar topic of what it means to “cooperate with grace.”

Sola Gratia is an original Catholic doctrine

When I posted this bold headline on X, I received a lot of attempted rebuttals. My replies included an explanation of “cooperating with grace.”

Whenever Catholics speak about “cooperating with grace,” a routine response comes back from the Sola Fide crowd. It is often stated with confidence, as if it were a decisive refutation:

“If Catholics say we must cooperate with grace, then grace becomes the result of works—which contradicts Romans 11:6.”

See this example thread here:

At first reading, the argument has force. St. Paul’s words are stark: “If it is by grace, it is no longer on the basis of works.” Grace, by definition, excludes earning. If something is owed, it is not a gift.

But the objection rests on a misunderstanding—one that collapses two very different questions into one. The Catholic Church not only agrees with St. Paul; it insists on his point with a clarity that is often overlooked. Yet at the same time, it refuses to reduce grace to something inert, something that leaves the human person untouched, passive, or merely declared righteous without being changed.

The heart of the matter lies here: grace is not earned—but neither is it sterile.

Catholicism preserves the full meaning of grace in a way that avoids both legalism and passivity.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church begins at the only possible starting point: the absolute priority of God’s action. Grace is not a response to human initiative; it is its source. “The preparation of man for the reception of grace is already a work of grace,” the Catechism teaches. Before a man can even begin to turn toward God, God has already turned toward him. Before a man can seek, he is already being sought.

This is not a small clarification—it is decisive. It means that at no point can man claim to have caused grace. There is no moment, however early, where the human person stands outside grace and produces something that obligates God to respond. Even the first flicker of repentance, the first movement of faith, the first desire for God—these are already the effect of grace at work within the soul.

On this point, the Catholic Church stands entirely with Romans 11:6: grace is never the consequence of works. It is always the cause.

Where, then, does “cooperation” enter the picture? And why does it so often sound suspicious to Protestant ears?

The difficulty lies in how the word is heard. In everyday speech, cooperation suggests two independent agents contributing side by side—two causes combining to produce a result. If that were what the Church meant, the objection would be valid. Grace would indeed become a kind of shared project, partly divine and partly human.

But that is not the Catholic meaning at all.

To say that man cooperates with grace is not to say that he adds something to it from the outside. It is to say that grace, having been freely given, awakens and enables a real response within him. The human will is not bypassed; it is healed and moved. The person is not replaced; he is restored.

In this sense, even cooperation is not something that originates from man alone. It is itself the work of grace. As the Catechism explains, God’s initiative “precedes, prepares, and elicits the free response of man.” The response is truly ours—but it is made possible by what God has already done within us.

This is the paradox at the center of Catholic theology: God acts in such a way that man truly acts. Divine causality does not compete with human freedom; it grounds it.

The Catechism teaches:

• “The divine initiative… precedes, prepares, and elicits the free response of man.”

• “Without God’s grace, [man] cannot… move himself toward justice.”

This means:

• You do not earn grace

• You do not trigger grace

• You do not deserve grace

Grace is pure gift—what the Catechism calls “free and undeserved help.”

This avoids two errors:

• Pelagianism (we save ourselves)

• Passive quietism (we do nothing at all)

Much of the confusion surrounding this issue can be traced to a deeper theological tension—one that Louis Bouyer, a former Protestant minister turned Catholic theologian, saw with unusual clarity. The Reformers were right to reject any notion that man could save himself. They were right to insist that grace is primary, that salvation is a gift, that faith is indispensable.

But in their zeal to protect grace, they risked emptying it of its transformative power.

Grace became, in many accounts, primarily a declaration: the sinner is counted as righteous, though he remains inwardly unchanged. Justification is external, forensic, a matter of status rather than substance. And once grace is conceived this way, any talk of human participation begins to sound like a threat. If man does anything, does that not undermine the gratuity of grace?

Bouyer’s insight was that this tension is unnecessary—and ultimately unstable. Scripture itself refuses to reduce salvation to a legal fiction. The same St. Paul who insists that we are justified by grace also insists that we are “a new creation,” that we must “walk in the Spirit,” that we must “work out [our] salvation,” even as “God is at work in [us].”

The Catholic Church preserves both sides without contradiction. Grace does not merely cover the sinner; it changes him. It does not merely declare righteousness; it infuses it. And precisely because grace is so powerful, it is able to produce real cooperation without ceasing to be grace.

This brings us to another often misunderstood concept: merit.

To modern ears, merit sounds like earning—a wage for services rendered. If that were the Catholic meaning, the entire system would collapse into the very error Paul condemns. But the Church explicitly rejects such an understanding. When it speaks of merit, it does so in a carefully qualified sense: whatever merit we have is itself rooted in grace.

The Catechism states this plainly: merit is to be attributed first to the grace of God, and only secondarily to man’s cooperation. In other words, when God rewards our good works, He is not recognizing something independent of Himself. He is crowning what His grace has brought about in us.

St. Augustine captured this with enduring precision: “When God crowns our merits, He crowns His own gifts.”

Here again, the logic of Romans 11:6 is preserved. Grace does not become a payment for works. Rather, works themselves become the fruit of grace.

The emphasis is placed back where it should be - on God.

God’s sovereign initiative is so powerful, it does not leave us as we were. It makes us capable of responding—not as rivals to God, but as participants in His life.

This post on X claims that “Catholic doctrine is that [our] works merit grace.”

The correction in that is “Catholic doctrine is that God’s works merit us grace.”

Non nobis.

References

The Catechism of the Catholic Church

Why Only Catholicism Can Make Protestantism Work: Louis Bouyer on the Reformation, by Louis Bouyer

The source of the image of all the divisions of Christianity

The original X post that started this all (and another Substack article is coming on the follow up topic about why Protestants cannot agree on the definition of baptism)

Beyond the Castle Paywall (for subscribers only)

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One of the reasons I started my Substack is that in my Catholic vs Protestant debates and conversations on X, I often encounter a topic that requires more space to explain than is allowed on X. Later, my Substack theme expanded into Catholic Knighthood, but my initial Substack posts were meant to create a longer reply so I would not have to post repeated X replies for the same question.

Such is the case today for the topic of slavery and the Catholic Church.

The debate started with a post about Catholics in the Civil War and this reply by Lizzie Marbach,

It is true that Protestants were heavily involved in ending slavery in the US through abolition movements and the Civil War, but I pointed out the obvious context that it was Protestants (the Founding Fathers like Jefferson and Madison) who compromised with slavery from Day 1.

I received a few staunch objections to that statement.

“Protestants didn’t start it! It existed long before then!” (Lizzie’s reply)

“Catholic countries (like Portugal / Brazil) expanded slavery!” (a “tu quoque” fallacy)

“Read Dum Diversas from pope Nicholas V in 1452!” (a non sequitur fallacy)

Let’s examine the overall history and put everything in the correct context.

Slavery has existed for all of recorded history. I don’t know if we can even say who started it. The Egyptian king decided to enslave the Israelites in Exodus 1:

Slavery existed elsewhere - Africa, the Middle East, Asia, etc. The Romans certainly expanded it. Early Christianity survived and thrived despite it. Islam embraced it. In the middle ages, the Catholic Church, through the popes, began to speak out against slavery, but monarchies (though Catholic) still used slavery during this time of war and competition between empires. The Catholic Church had no method to enforce compliance and these kings tended to do what kings do.

Sublimis Deus by Pope Paul III in 1537 affirmed the humanity and dignity of the indigenous peoples of the New World.

In Supremo Apostolatus by Pope Gregory XVI in 1839 explicitly condemned the slave trade.

What about Dum Diversas by Pope Nicholas V in 1452?

The King of Portugal was fighting off Muslim invaders which were called, broadly speaking, the Sarecens or sometimes referred to as the Ottomans (this invasion had been happening for hundreds of years all across Christian Europe). The Pope gave allowance for turning war captives into servitude for the purposes of winning this terrible war. The papal bull was not a moral endorsement of the practice of slavery for the purpose of enrichment. Portugal later used the language of the bull to continue expanding the Atlantic slave trade, but that was not what it was designed to do.

Those who live in times of peace often feel morally superior to those who have made hard decisions in times of war. We have to understand that had we lived in those conditions we would likely have done the same thing.

One cannot understand the whole context of Middle Ages slavery without recognizing the landscape of ongoing warfare between Islam and Christianity. Survival of civilization under threat was the primary goal. You cannot look back with a modern lens and pretend you would have done things differently.

As for Protestant involvement in slavery, Protestant nations such as England, the Netherlands and now the United States continued slavery and defended it using the Bible.

The United States Constitution (written by Protestants) both outlawed the transatlantic slave trade while also compromising and allowing slavery to continue in southern states and allowing generational slavery.

This is precisely my point when I stated “I’m glad Protestants were able to clean up the mess they created.”

That means, “Yes, Protestant abolitionists and Protestant soldiers helped end slavery in the US, but slavery existed in the US because of Protestants.”

This is important context and something Protestants should acknowledge, while I acknowledge the failure of the Catholic Church to enforce Catholic doctrine.

I also point out that slavery still exists today, sadly. Also, a version of slavery still exists in the United States (a Protestant nation), in the form of the military draft which is still on the books. You might claim “that’s not slavery” but involuntary servitude for the purpose of winning a war is exactly what Protestants denounce in their objections to Dum Diversas.

Overall, history shows that slavery existed long before Christianity. Christianity planted the seeds for the beginning of the outlawing of slavery, but it took many years to finally enact into law.

Protestants and Catholics both should not be claiming complete moral superiority on this but instead recognize the complex history and difficult decisions that were required at the time.

Non nobis.

In our time, one need within the Church is becoming increasingly obvious. It is the need for strong, organized communities of lay Catholics who live with discipline, fraternity, and purpose. Not monks. Not priests. Not religious sisters. But something in between.

Historically, the Church already had a structure for this: third orders, sometimes called tertiaries. These were groups of laypeople who lived in the world but adopted a spiritual rule inspired by a religious order. The most well-known example is the Secular Franciscan Order, connected to the friars founded by Francis of Assisi. Similarly, the Lay Dominicans share in the spirituality of the Order founded by Dominic de Guzmán.

These communities historically gave ordinary Catholics something powerful: a rule of life.

Members prayed together. They practiced penance. They supported the Church. They strengthened one another in virtue. They remained fully laypeople—working jobs, raising families—but they were not spiritually alone.

In modern Catholic life, however, that structure is often weak or forgotten. Many lay Catholics sense that they should be doing more for the Church, but they feel unqualified or unsure where they fit.

On the other side, priests are often overworked and understaffed.

Between these two realities lies a gap.

That gap is exactly where renewed lay confraternities and third-order-style brotherhoods could flourish.

The Middle Ground Between Laity and Religious Life

Most Catholics are not called to the priesthood or to religious vows. The Church has always recognized that the majority of believers live their vocation in the world.

But living in the world does not mean living without discipline.

The Catholic tradition has never envisioned the laity as passive spectators while the clergy do everything. The Church speaks of the common priesthood of the faithful, a teaching emphasized strongly by the Second Vatican Council in Lumen Gentium.

Laypeople cannot consecrate the Eucharist. They cannot absolve sins.

But they do possess real authority and responsibility within the life of the Church.

They can:

• defend the faith

• build Catholic culture

• support their priests

• protect the vulnerable

• raise families rooted in virtue

• organize works of mercy

• engage in penance and spiritual warfare

The problem is not that laypeople lack authority.

The problem is that they often lack formation, structure, and brotherhood.

A lone man trying to live a heroic Catholic life is easily worn down by modern culture. A band of men, united by a rule and mission, becomes something very different.

The Forgotten Power of Confraternities

For centuries, Catholic life included a wide variety of lay confraternities.

These were associations dedicated to prayer, charity, protection of churches, burial of the dead, or support of clergy. In medieval cities they were often the backbone of Catholic social life.

Some confraternities were simple devotional societies. Others functioned almost like small lay militias guarding churches, hospitals, or pilgrim routes.

Even the famous Knights of Columbus began as a lay brotherhood intended to strengthen Catholic men spiritually while supporting families and parishes.

But in many places today, the idea of organized Catholic brotherhood has faded. Parish life often revolves around committees and meetings rather than shared discipline and mission.

Yet the hunger for this kind of brotherhood has not disappeared.

In fact, it may be stronger than ever.

Men today are surrounded by isolation, digital distraction, and cultural hostility to faith and masculinity. Many instinctively know they were meant to live with greater purpose and strength, but they lack a path forward.

This is where revived third-order style confraternities could play a crucial role.

What Catholic Brotherhood Could Look Like

Imagine if every parish had a recognized fraternity of Catholic men living by a clear rule of life.

Not a casual club.

Not merely a social gathering.

But something intentional.

Members might commit to practices like:

Physical discipline

Yes, even something as simple as lifting weights. Strength training is not merely vanity. It cultivates discipline, endurance, and self-mastery. A parish with a small workout space or organized training group could quietly form stronger men—physically and mentally.

The body matters in Catholicism. After all, we believe in the resurrection of the body, not escape from it.

Spiritual discipline

Men in the confraternity might commit to:

• regular fasting

• structured prayer

• confession and spiritual accountability

• study of Scripture and doctrine

These are the habits that forge spiritual warriors rather than passive believers.

Protection of the Church

In many places, priests and parishes are increasingly vulnerable—to vandalism, harassment, or worse.

Organized Catholic men can serve quietly as guardians of their communities.

This may involve:

• providing security during Mass

• safeguarding parish property

• escorting clergy when necessary

• being a visible presence during public events or processions

Historically this role was normal. The Church has always relied on strong laymen willing to defend sacred things.

Protection of the Family

A true Catholic brotherhood would not end at the church doors.

Members would also support one another as husbands, fathers, and grandfathers. They would encourage discipline in family life and reinforce the idea that fatherhood itself is a vocation of spiritual leadership.

Men who train together, pray together, and fast together naturally begin helping one another live better lives.

Why Official Recognition Matters

Some informal Catholic men’s groups already exist.

But many operate without support or recognition from the parish.

This limits their effectiveness.

When a parish officially recognizes a confraternity or tertiary association, several important things happen:

1. Clarity of mission – The group exists to serve the Church, not itself.

2. Spiritual guidance – A priest can provide oversight and sacramental support.

3. Institutional stability – The group is not dependent on a single charismatic leader.

4. Parish cooperation – Resources such as meeting space, training areas, or event coordination become possible.

Rather than competing with parish life, such groups would strengthen it.

A priest with a dedicated band of disciplined Catholic men at his side is not burdened by them. He is supported by them.

The Return of the Catholic Knight

There is a reason the image of the knight still resonates with Catholic men.

The knight represents a man who combines strength, discipline, loyalty, and faith. He is not merely a fighter. He is a guardian of the sacred and a servant of the weak.

In a modern parish, that spirit could take many forms:

• the man who arrives early to help prepare the church

• the man who quietly watches the doors during Mass

• the man who organizes fasting during Lent

• the man who trains younger fathers in discipline and leadership

• the man who ensures that priests are never left isolated

None of this requires ordination.

But it does require brotherhood.

It requires structure.

And it requires the rediscovery of something the Church once knew well: the power of organized, disciplined laymen living under a shared rule of life.

A Quiet Renewal Waiting to Happen

The revival of Catholic confraternities and tertiary-style brotherhoods would not require massive programs or complicated bureaucracy.

It would simply require recognition that the laity are capable of far more than passive participation.

Catholic men want to serve.

They want to build.

They want to protect.

Give them a rule, a brotherhood, and a mission—and many will rise to the challenge.

The Church does not need every man to become a monk.

But she may need far more lay knights.

The men are out there, waiting to be Third Order knights.

More importantly, they are waiting for commands.

Non nobis.

There was a time when you charged the field.

You built the house. You paid the bills. You gave kids “horse rides” on your knee and stayed up late solving problems no one else saw, ensuring bills were paid and the hot water heater flame was lit. You bore the stress quietly. You fought dragons no one thanked you for slaying.

Now the armor hangs a little heavier, a little rustier.

The children are grown. The career track is behind you. The market doesn’t need your hustle anymore. Your body doesn’t respond like it once did. The culture has shifted. Even the household runs on habits formed decades ago. You might wonder:

Is the campaign over?

Or worse:

Is my dominion gone?

What Is a Man’s Dominion?

Dominion is not domination. It is not barking orders. It is not demanding respect. It is not controlling your wife, your adult children, or the weather.

Dominion is responsibility embraced willingly.

In the language of Scripture, dominion is stewardship. The old knight does not conquer new lands — he tends the kingdom entrusted to him.

For men in their prime years, the formula for rejuvenation is simple, but difficult, and the steps include (but are not limited to):

• lift weights (for health, strength, attractiveness and discipline)

• eat healthy

• save money

• invest

• grow your career

• treat your wife generously

• lead your family in prayer

But now those steps are not as feasible, not as urgent, or not as useful for the remaining time you have.

And your kingdom, grandfather, is smaller now.

But it is deeper.

Your dominion is:

• Your speech

• Your presence

• Your prayer

• Your steadiness

• Your grandchildren

• The moral climate of your home

You may not be able to lift heavier weights. But you can still lift the atmosphere of your household.

You may not change careers. But you can change the tone of every room you enter.

And that is no small thing.

The Discipline That Is Still Available

You say lifting weights is not an option.

Fine.

Lift silence.

Guard your tongue.

The old knight who no longer swings the sword must master restraint. No more constant complaints about politics, prices, aches, or how things “used to be.” No muttering criticism under your breath. No passive-aggressive sighs.

The grandfather who refuses to complain becomes a pillar.

He becomes gravity.

He becomes someone the grandchildren instinctively lean toward because he radiates steadiness rather than irritation.

Your tongue is still fully trainable. That discipline is available until the day you die.

And you have the time to read, but you can use it to read up on the things your grandchildren will want to know.

Lead the Prayer. Do Not Apologize for It.

You do not ask permission to lead the meal prayer.

You simply begin.

Clear your throat. Bow your head. Make the Sign of the Cross. Pray slowly.

If your adult children are lukewarm, pray anyway.

If your wife is skeptical of your “new seriousness,” pray anyway.

You are not imposing. You are exercising dominion over the spiritual climate of your table.

Knights do not ask permission to guard the chapel.

The Wife Who Is Set in Her Ways

After decades of marriage, your wife may not immediately trust this renewed resolve.

She has seen phases before.

She has endured enthusiasm that fizzled.

So do not preach to her.

Do not announce reforms.

Live them.

Instead of “Yes dear” said resentfully while retreating into quiet frustration, do something stronger:

Make a plan.

“Saturday at 9am I’m fixing the back gate and clearing the shed. After lunch, I’ll tackle the sink.”

Calm. Decided. Not domineering. Not seeking validation.

Strength without harshness.

You are not rebelling against your wife. You are reclaiming initiative. There is a difference.

Over time, consistency rebuilds trust.

Your Legacy Is Not Your Children

Your children are formed.

They have their habits, convictions, and blind spots. You may influence them gently, but you will not re-raise them.

But your grandchildren?

That is a different field.

Grandchildren are watching how a man ages.

They are watching how he handles pain.
They are watching how he treats their grandmother.
They are watching whether he prays.
They are watching whether he grumbles.
They are watching whether he keeps his word.

They will remember the tone of your voice long after they forget your advice.

If you want dominion, claim the holidays.

Not by force.

By initiative.

“On Advent Sunday, Grandpa is taking you all to Mass.”

“At Christmas we read the Nativity before gifts.”

“On Memorial Day we visit the veterans’ cemetery.”

You do not ask, “Is that okay?” like a nervous teenager.

You invite.

You lead.

And children follow confidence.

Pilgrimages, Not Vacations

Take them to shrines.

Drive to the cathedral.

Show them how to light a candle for someone who is suffering.

If you are near National Shrine of the Divine Mercy, go there.
If you travel through Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, stop there.
If you are blessed to visit Our Lady of Guadalupe Shrine, make it an event.

(And if you cannot travel far, your parish church is shrine enough.)

Grandfathers do not need exotic adventures.

They need sacred memory-making.

A child who kneels next to a steady grandfather in silence before the tabernacle will never forget it.

No More Asking Permission for Your Mission

You are not starting a new career.

You are not investing in startups.

Your mission now is formation.

Formation requires quiet confidence.

You do not ask for permission to pray more.
You do not ask for permission to read good books.
You do not ask for permission to become more disciplined.

You simply become it.

Without fanfare.

Without speeches.

Without threatening anyone’s comfort.

Dominion is not loud.

It is stable.

Can Old Knights Learn New Tricks?

Yes.

But the tricks are smaller.

Harder.

More interior.

You cannot reinvent your entire life.

But you can refine it.

You can become:

• Less reactive

• More prayerful

• More decisive

• More gentle

• More steady

And here is the secret:

When a grandfather becomes calm, faithful, and consistent, he becomes formidable.

Because nothing unsettles modern chaos like a man who knows who he is.

You are not the young knight charging into battle.

You are the elder at the gate.

You do not conquer territory.

You guard it.

And the kingdom you guard now is small hands folded beside you at prayer.

That is dominion enough.

Non nobis, avi.

Christianity, the accusation goes, is too focused on sin, too quick to name failure, too willing to describe humanity as broken. The doctrine of Original Sin, in particular, is frequently dismissed as unfair, psychologically damaging, or morally outdated. Why should anyone be born into a fallen condition? Why frame human struggle in moral terms at all? Why not replace guilt with compassion, repentance with awareness, and redemption with self-acceptance?

These objections are not frivolous. They arise from real harm caused by shame-based moralism and from genuine insights offered by modern psychology. Figures such as Carl Jung (w/ shadow integration) and Alan Watts (w/ perennial non-dual philosophy) gave voice to a widespread intuition: that repression is destructive, that denial intensifies pathology, and that much suffering comes not from wickedness but from unconscious forces and mistaken self-understanding.1 Their influence can be seen everywhere — in therapeutic culture, mindfulness practices, non-dual spirituality, and even in how many Christians now talk about faith.

Yet despite their insights, something remains unresolved. Many who achieve psychological insight remain trapped in cycles of addiction, relational instability, or quiet despair. They understand themselves better — and yet cannot change as deeply as they hoped. This essay argues that the Christian doctrine of Original Sin, properly understood, explains why. Far from being unfair or harmful, it names the human condition with unusual precision, avoids both condemnation and denial, and grounds a method of transformation that modern alternatives consistently struggle to sustain.

Is Original Sin Unfair?

The most common objection to Original Sin is ethical: Is it just to inherit a wounded condition? Why should anyone bear the consequences of a fall they did not personally choose?

Catholic theology responds by making a crucial distinction often overlooked by critics. Original Sin does not mean inherited personal guilt. It does not mean that human beings are born morally culpable, evil, or worthless. The Church explicitly rejects those interpretations.2 What is inherited is not guilt but condition — a wounded nature marked by disordered desire, weakened will, and fractured harmony.3

The man and his disordered passions is like a zookeeper who inherited a collection of wild animals who, by themselves, aren’t necessarily evil but still need to be tamed.

This is not a claim about moral blame; it is a claim about reality.

Every serious moral framework must explain why knowledge does not reliably lead to virtue, why insight does not guarantee freedom, and why people repeatedly do what they know will harm them. Christianity’s answer is stark but honest: the problem runs through every human heart.4 Not because humanity is evil, but because humanity is wounded.

The language of “brokenness” is often misleading. Catholic theology prefers the language of wounding. The difference matters. A broken object is useless; a wounded person is still fully human, still dignified, still capable of healing. Original Sin names not a corrupted essence, but a diminished capacity — much like inheriting trauma, addiction risk, or a chronic illness. No one calls gravity unfair. Original Sin is Christianity’s way of naming the moral gravity of history.

The Secular Turn: Jung, Watts, and the Rejection of Moral Diagnosis

Modern secular and spiritual responses often reject this diagnosis altogether. Carl Jung offers one of the most sophisticated alternatives. He observed — correctly — that repression intensifies neurosis, that denied impulses return in distorted forms, and that moralism without self-knowledge produces hypocrisy.5 His concept of shadow integration aims to bring unconscious material into awareness, reducing its destructive power.

Jung deserves credit for identifying a real pathology. Catholic spirituality agrees with much of his diagnosis: that honesty is essential, that projection is dangerous, and that denied impulses do not disappear. Confession, examination of conscience, and ascetical practice presuppose radical self-knowledge.6

But Jung’s project stops short of moral transformation. His goal is psychic wholeness, not holiness. Integration means acceptance of all psychic contents, not the healing or reordering of desire. The shadow is made conscious — but not crucified.

Alan Watts moves further still. Where Jung preserves the self and moral struggle, Watts dissolves them. Drawing on Zen and Advaita Vedanta, he reframes sin as illusion, guilt as misunderstanding, and redemption as awakening.7 The self, for Watts, is the problem — and its dissolution is the solution. Moral categories themselves become part of the illusion.

This approach is deeply appealing. It removes shame without repentance, responsibility without condemnation, and suffering without sacrifice. But it also removes something else: the possibility of covenantal love, moral growth, and enduring transformation.

Christianity can dialogue with Jung.

It must ultimately reject Watts.8

The Catholic Synthesis: Compassion Without Denial, Judgment Without Condemnation

Catholic theology refuses two false alternatives. It rejects shame-based moralism, which confuses the wound with the person. And it rejects non-dual denial, which confuses insight with healing.

Instead, it insists on a harder truth: desire is good, but disordered; the person is good, but wounded; insight is necessary, but insufficient.9 Sin is not a teacher to be loved, nor an illusion to be dissolved. It is a distortion to be healed.

This is why Catholic spirituality emphasizes repentance — not as self-hatred, but as re-alignment. Contrition is not loathing oneself; it is sorrow for what fractures love.10 Grace does not erase desire; it perfects it.11 Christianity does not offer liberation from the drama of moral life, but redemption through it.

The Cross is not an escape from tragedy; it is the place where tragedy is transformed.12

Why the Catholic Method Works in Practice: Addiction and the Will

The superiority of this framework becomes clearest in real-world cases like addiction. Alcoholics Anonymous is often described as “spiritual but not religious,” yet its structure is unmistakably Augustinian and deeply Christian.13

AA begins with confession: I am powerless over alcohol. It proceeds through moral inventory, admission of fault, restitution, reliance on a Higher Power, and lifelong vigilance. It treats addiction as real bondage — not illusion — and the will as wounded but responsible.

Non-dual or mindfulness-based recovery programs do exist. They often reduce shame and increase awareness.14 But they consistently struggle with relapse, sacrifice, and accountability. Addiction is not merely misidentification; it is enslavement of the will. Augustine described it centuries ago: “I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want.”15 Modern therapy is still catching up to that insight.

The same logic applies to gluttony, lust, and other compulsions. Catholic ascetic practices — fasting, custody of the eyes, accountability, sacramental confession — are not repression techniques. They are training regimens for a wounded will. They work because they correspond to the reality of the human condition.16

The Personal Cost of “Liberation from the Drama”

A painful but relevant observation must be made.

Many figures who teach liberation from moral drama struggle profoundly in their personal lives. Alan Watts was married three times, openly unfaithful, and an admitted alcoholic.17 Jiddu Krishnamurti maintained secret relationships that contradicted his public teachings.18 These are not moral indictments; they are philosophical data points.

A worldview that seeks freedom from drama will inevitably strain against marriage, fidelity, and long-term responsibility — precisely because love requires binding oneself to time, consequence, and sacrifice.19 This pattern is not universal, but it is frequent enough to raise serious questions about sustainability.

Christianity does not claim that saints are free from struggle. It claims that truth must be livable — and that grace must heal relationships, not merely reinterpret them.20

Augustine and Aquinas: The Resolution

St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas together offer a synthesis that resolves these tensions. Augustine understands the divided will with unparalleled psychological realism. He knows that desire can be sincere and enslaving at the same time. He knows that insight does not free the will. He knows that grace is not information, but power.21

Aquinas provides the metaphysical clarity. Evil is not a thing, but a privation.22 Desire always aims at a perceived good, but can miss the true good.23 Freedom is not mere choice, but the ability to choose rightly — a capacity wounded by sin and restored by grace.24

Together, they explain why modern therapy helps — and why it is not enough.

Where to Go from Here: Practical Steps Forward

For those who have lived under modern therapeutic frameworks and made genuine gains, Catholicism does not ask for rejection of insight. It asks for completion.

The next steps are concrete:

• radical honesty about patterns of sin and compulsion

• regular confession as a practice of truth, not shame

• ascetic disciplines that train desire, not suppress it

• community accountability rather than solitary insight

• prayer that asks not only for understanding, but for strength

Grace builds on nature; it does not replace it.25

Recommended Resources

• St. Augustine, Confessions — still the most psychologically accurate account of addiction and desire ever written

• St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, I–II — on sin, freedom, and grace

• Servais Pinckaers, The Sources of Christian Ethics

• Joseph Ratzinger (Benedict XVI), Introduction to Christianity

• Bishop Robert Barron, lectures on Catholic anthropology

Conclusion

Christianity does not say, “You are broken beyond hope.”
It says, “You are wounded beyond self-repair — and therefore worthy of grace.”

Original Sin is not a doctrine of despair, but of realism. It refuses both the cruelty of condemnation and the evasiveness of denial. It names the wound so that healing can be real — and insists that the drama of human life is not something to escape, but something to redeem.

With Catholic integration, we can confidently say,

“This is in me, but it is not me — and it must be healed, not enthroned.”

Amen? Amen.

Non nobis, brothers.

Footnotes

In the beginning was the Word,
and the Word was with God,
and the Word was God.
He was in the beginning with God.
All things came to be through him,
and without him nothing came to be.

…

And the Word became flesh
and made his dwelling among us,

(John 1:1-3, 14)

At a high level, Catholics and Protestants agree on the core meaning of John 1:
Jesus Christ is the eternal Word (Logos, which can mean Word, Thought, Logic, or Principle)—fully divine, pre-existent with God, and the agent of creation.

The real differences emerge in what “Word” implies beyond Christ Himself, especially regarding authority, revelation, and mediation.

This article is written to chronicle some of the differences I have noticed when discussing this concept with some (not all) non-Catholic Christians on social media.

1. Shared Ground: What Both Affirm

Both Catholics and classical Protestants agree that in John 1:

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”

This means:

• Jesus is eternal, not created

• Jesus is consubstantial with the Father

• Jesus is the self-expression of God, through whom all things were made

• The “Word” is personal, not merely information

This reading is grounded in:

• Trinitarian theology

• Nicene Christology

• The Jewish background of dabar (God’s effective, creative speech)

2. The Catholic Understanding: The Word Is Living, Sacramental, and Ecclesial

For Catholics, John’s identification of Christ as the Word means:

A. The Word Is a Person, Not a Text

Catholic theology insists:

The Word of God is first and foremost Jesus Christ Himself, not the Bible.

Scripture is inspired because it bears witness to the Word, not because it is the Word in the fullest sense.

Thus:

• Christ → gives rise to Scripture

• Scripture → lives within the Church

• The Church → safeguards and interprets Scripture

This forms the Catholic triad:
Sacred Scripture, Sacred Tradition, and the Magisterium, all ordered to Christ the Logos.

B. The Word Continues to Act Through the Church

Because the Word “became flesh” (John 1:14), Catholics emphasize incarnation continuing in history:

• The Word speaks through apostolic preaching

• The Word acts through the sacraments

• The Word is encountered in the Eucharist (“This is my body”)

The Logos is not confined to a book, but remains living, embodied, and mediated.

C. Logos as Participation, Not Just Information

Influenced by Greek metaphysics (Aquinas, the Fathers), Catholics see the Logos as:

• The divine reason ordering creation

• The light in which humans participate

• The source of natural law and moral truth

Salvation, therefore, is not merely believing propositions about the Word, but being conformed to Him.

3. The Protestant Understanding: The Word as Proclaimed and Written

Protestants affirm Christ as the Logos but tend to functionally identify the Word of God with Scripture in practice.

A. Functional Shift: From Person to Text

While Protestant theology says the Word is Christ, authority often resides primarily in the written Word:

• “Word of God” → commonly means the Bible

• The preached Word derives authority from Scripture alone

• Christ is known through the text, rather than through a sacramental Church

This is tied to sola Scriptura.

B. The Word as Gospel Message

In many Protestant traditions, “the Word” emphasizes:

• The preached gospel

• The announcement of justification by faith

• The message that brings saving faith

The Logos becomes primarily God’s saving speech, rather than a metaphysical principle sustaining creation and sacrament.

C. Reduced Sacramentality

Because the Word is chiefly proclaimed rather than embodied:

• Sacraments are often symbolic ordinances

• The Eucharist is not the Logos made present in substance

• The Church is a gathering around the Word, not the Word extended in history

4. The Key Difference in One Sentence

Catholicism sees the Logos as a living Person who continues to speak and act through the Church and sacraments; Protestantism tends to locate the Word’s authority primarily in the written and proclaimed text.

5. Why This Matters Theologically

This difference explains downstream disagreements about:

• Authority (Church vs. text alone)

• Sacraments (real presence vs. memorial)

• Tradition (living transmission vs. human addition)

• Unity (visible Church vs. invisible believers)

John 1 does not merely say God spoke—it says God became flesh.
Catholics press that claim all the way forward into history.

Having established this baseline understanding of terms, there may be some better chance of productive communication in the future.

Non nobis.

Martin Luther (1483–1546) remains one of the most influential and controversial figures in Christian history.

If you spend any time on social media in a debate between Protestants and Catholics, you will encounter one or more myths around the life of Martin Luther. This article is intended to track and respond to each of them so that I can link them back to the answers here.

This FAQ explores why Luther was excommunicated, what his intentions were toward the Catholic Church, his views on ordained ministry, and answers other common questions and misconceptions from both Catholic and Protestant perspectives.

1) Why was Luther excommunicated?

Luther was excommunicated on January 3, 1521 by Pope Leo X in the papal bull Decet Romanum Pontificem for refusing to recant teachings that the Catholic Church judged heretical. He had been warned in Exsurge Domine (1520) to renounce 41 propositions in his writings. Luther publicly burned the papal warning, which signaled his break with Rome.1

Specifically:

• He denied the binding authority of the pope

• He denied the binding authority of ecumenical councils

• He claimed Scripture alone could judge the Church

This placed him outside the Church’s ability to resolve disputes.

Catholic historian Hubert Jedin summarized it succinctly:

“The decisive issue was authority, not indulgences.”
— A History of the Council of Trent

2) If Luther was not excommunicated, would he have stayed in the Catholic Church?

Historical evidence suggests:

• Early on, Luther pleaded for reform within the Church and followed academic procedures to debate theological issues like indulgences.2

• But as his theology developed — especially on papal authority, justification, and scriptural authority — he moved toward positions that made corporate unity with the Catholic Church unlikely.

• He refused to recant even “unless I am convinced by Scripture and plain reason,” showing his commitment to principles that would separate him from Rome.

So even absent formal excommunication, Luther likely would have drifted into separation because of deep doctrinal differences about Church authority and salvation.

3) Was there anything Luther could have done to avoid excommunication?

In theory, yes — he could have recanted or moderated his positions when threatened in 1520. However, given that Luther’s scriptural authority and justification by faith teachings were central to his theology and increasingly at odds with Catholic doctrine, most historians conclude that he was committed to positions that effectively made separation inevitable.

Both Catholic and Protestant scholars have made the argument that Luther effectively excommunicated himself.

Catholic historian Msgr. Philip Hughes wrote that Luther’s rejection of papal authority, councils, and sacramental priesthood meant that:

“The juridical act of excommunication merely ratified a rupture already effected by Luther himself.”
— A Popular History of the Catholic Church

Similarly, Protestant historian Brad Gregory argues that Luther’s theological positions logically dissolved communion regardless of Rome’s response:

“Once Luther denied the Church’s authority to judge doctrine, separation became unavoidable.”
— The Unintended Reformation
https://www.hup.harvard.edu/books/9780674045637

By 1520, Luther openly anticipated excommunication and spoke of it defiantly. After receiving Exsurge Domine, he wrote:

“I despise and attack with all my might this senseless, blasphemous bull.”

He then publicly burned it along with books of canon law, an act universally understood as a rejection of ecclesiastical authority.

Protestant historian Roland Bainton writes:

“The burning of the bull was the point of no return.”
— Here I Stand3

4) Was Luther against the ordination of priests and clergy?

• Yes, he argued that the traditional, hierarchical priesthood was not divinely necessary and emphasized what is now called a “priesthood of all believers.”4

• He wrote, “How then if they are forced to admit that we are all equally priests, as many of us as are baptized, and by this way we truly are; while to them is committed only the Ministry (ministerium) and consented to by us (nostro consensu)? If they recognize this they would know that they have no right to exercise power over us… In this way we are all priests, as many of us as are Christians.” (Source: On the Babylonian Captivity of the Church - 1520)

• Luther rejected sacerdotalism — the idea that priests act as essential mediators by sacrament alone.

5) Did Luther really nail his 95 Theses to a church door?

This is a historical legend. Early accounts claimed he posted the 95 Theses on the Castle Church door in Wittenberg, but modern scholarship questions this — there is no first-hand evidence Luther himself ever hammered them up. Often it’s more historically accurate that he mailed his theses to church authorities to begin an academic discussion.5

6) Did Luther marry a former nun?

Yes, Luther did marry a former nun, Katharina von Bora, in 1525 — a fact long attested by historians.6

7) Did Luther suffer from scrupulosity?

Yes, there are historical accounts that Luther struggled with anxiety about sin and salvation, especially early in life. A biography notes he was terrified of sinning even during Mass early in his priesthood.7

8) Did Luther persecute other Christians?

Yes — especially during the Peasants’ War (1524–25), when he wrote Against the Robbing and Murdering Hordes of Peasants, urging secular authorities to crush the rebellion.8

Luther’s views altered over time — he opposed radical reformers like the Anabaptists and supported harsh treatments that later critics (Catholic and Protestant) condemn.9

9) Was Luther antisemitic?

Yes — in his later years Luther wrote highly antisemitic tracts, which have been widely condemned by historians and modern Lutherans alike. This is one of the most criticized aspects of his legacy.10

10) Was Luther against all indulgences?

No — at least not initially.

In the 95 Theses (1517), Luther explicitly states that indulgences can have a legitimate place if properly understood. His primary objection was to abuses, especially the claim that indulgences could remit guilt or replace true repentance.

“They preach only human doctrines who say that as soon as the money clinks into the money chest, the soul flies out of purgatory.”
— Thesis 27

He affirmed that the pope could remit canonical penalties, but denied that indulgences could remit guilt before God.

Catholic historian Joseph Lortz argues that Luther’s early objections were not inherently schismatic, but became so as his theology of justification developed.
Source:

• Joseph Lortz, The Reformation in Germany

Later, however, Luther rejected indulgences entirely because they conflicted with his doctrine of justification by faith alone.

11) How did Luther respond when other Reformers reformed against his interpretation of Scripture?

Often harshly.

Luther insisted on sola scriptura, but when other reformers (such as Zwingli, Karlstadt, and later Anabaptists) interpreted Scripture differently, Luther rejected their conclusions — sometimes with strong polemics.

A famous example is the Marburg Colloquy (1529), where Luther refused fellowship with Zwingli over the Eucharist:

“You have a different spirit.”
— Luther to Zwingli

Luther insisted on Christ’s real presence in the Eucharist and accused Zwingli of rationalism.

Protestant historian Alister McGrath notes:

“Luther proved no more tolerant of doctrinal deviation than the medieval Church he opposed.”
— Reformation Thought: An Introduction11

12) Did Luther subsist on a diet of worms?

No. He was summoned to the Diet of Worms (a diet is a formal deliberative assembly, and Worms is a city in Germany).

13) Would Luther have been killed had he gone to the Vatican to defend his positions?

No.

While executions for heresy did occur in this era, Luther was:

• A famous university professor

• A member of a religious order

• Protected by German princes, especially Frederick the Wise

When Luther traveled to the Diet of Worms (1521), he was granted imperial safe-conduct, similar to earlier theologians.

However, Luther feared Rome deeply, often comparing himself to Jan Hus, who was executed after being promised safe conduct.

Modern historians generally agree:

• Luther would not have been immediately executed

• But he could have been imprisoned or silenced

Source:

• Roland Bainton, Here I Stand

14) Did the Catholic Church make reforms in response to Martin Luther?

Yes, the Catholic Church responded to Luther and the wider Protestant Reformation with a combination of doctrinal clarification, disciplinary reform, and institutional renewal. These reforms are often grouped under what historians call the Catholic Reformation (or, more polemically, the “Counter-Reformation”), especially centered on the Council of Trent (1545–1563).

Importantly, many of these reforms addressed real abuses Luther criticized, even while the Church rejected his theological conclusions.

Send me your feedback. I will update and refine this document as needed.

Further reading:

https://www.catholic.com/audio/sp/painfully-common-historical-misconceptions-about-martin-luther

Footnotes:

It is much easier to destroy and pervert than to create.

The Enemy is not a creator or a builder. He is a destroyer and perverter of what others create and build.

Understanding this is key to everything. The chaos that we see today only makes sense when viewed in this perspective. Why were certain things not “left alone” but instead targeted for subversion?

One of the favorite tricks of the Enemy and his minions is to take over what was meant for good and repurpose it for bad, which adds insult to injury to those who have spent their efforts in creating something good.

This tactic is repeated over and over in history, as is written in the book Defenders of the West by Raymond Ibrahim. See my book review—

Defenders of the West tells the story of 8 heroes, from crusaders King Richard & King Saint Louis, to the liberators of Spain (El Cid & King Ferdinand), to heroes of the Eastern front John Hunyadi & Skanderbeg. These men all had just cause to fight and repel the invasion of the Turks, Moors and similar foes.

The Turks would not only conquer a Christian territory, but demand tribute of your own neighboring kingdoms so as to use your own resources against you, including your children. Skanderbeg himself was, as a child, handed over to the sultan as a tribute, raised as a soldier for the other side, and spent many years fighting his own people before he found his chance to turn against the Turks.

After the Turks conquered Constantinople, they melted the church bells down. Then they re-used the metal to forge the cannons and aimed them at Belgrade, from which they then planned to conquer all of Europe.

Today, the enemies of the Church are not so obvious as an aggressive, warlord Turk who invades and enslaves, rapes, pillages and executes. Yet this enemy still conquers quietly, slipping under the radar so that most of us do not get motivated into training and fighting like Skanderbeg.

So whether it is Jerusalem (which Muslims tried to claim as one of their holy sites), or Spain (where Moors took over existing churches to repurpose them for Islam), or Constantinople (which was renamed to Istanbul), or any other example, history shows that territory must be defended or it will be claimed by the enemy.

What does that mean for us today? Are we all called to reconquer Jerusalem? No, we are called to reconquer what has been lost in our own backyard & neighborhood. We must reconquer our families who have been lost to moral relativism, materialism, Enlightenment Rationalism, occultism, and beyond.

We should start making clear demarcations so that when people see us, Catholic Knights, they see someone different from the popular culture, with clear boundaries on key areas. And we can display our own symbols from history which have been subverted or commandeered over the years.

Examples:

• We can display images of the rainbow as a sign of God’s Covenant from the Book of Genesis.

• We can wear the White Cloak of a holy knight without fear that someone will confuse it with a KKK hood.

• We can use the clover as a symbol of the Trinity rather than of pagan “luck.”

• We can dress as Saint Nicholas, rather than Santa Claus, to show the true saintly origins of the tradition of giving on Christmas. You can especially do this at a Krampus parade to show the contrast against the wicked intent of some of the participants.

• You can imitate Saint Valentine and show love for women and married couples even when you are not in love with a woman.

• You can reclaim Sundays by going to Holy Mass, not shopping, not spending the entire day watching football, and spending time with family instead, leading them in prayer, reflection and spiritual growth.

• We can build & displays more statues of Mary rather than the Statue of Liberty.

• We can reclaim Fridays by fasting and offering penances and eating fish rather than always going out for parties and barbecues.

There are many other examples and I will leave that to you to discover.

In the book review I mentioned above, Defenders of the West by Raymond Ibrahim, I ran out of time to talk about the real history of Vlad Dracula (not a vampire but a real defender of the Christian West), so I will add that here. Let this story inspire you, not to commit terror tactics that he was forced into by circumstance, but to take a few more bold steps in your defense of Western Christendom by protecting your own interior castle, your own domestic church (your family) and your local Christian community.

Ibrahim corrects the record on Vlad III Dracula, commonly known as Vlad the Impaler, as a fierce and unyielding defender of Christian Europe against the advancing Ottoman Turks. Vlad turned the terror tactics of his enemies back on them to protect his homeland of Wallachia, making the Ottomans think twice before invading deeper into Christian lands. His reputation for cruelty served a calculated military purpose: psychological warfare to deter both external invaders and internal disorder while preserving his people and faith.1

He was especially known for the infamous “Forest of the Impaled”, where thousands of stakes were erected as a stark warning. And this may seem cruel and unusual to us today, but it protected his people, because when the Sultan later reached Târgoviște and encountered the Forest of the Impaled, the effect of terror, confusion, and shock convinced him that Wallachia was not worth the cost. Mehmed withdrew, despite his overwhelming numerical advantage.

While fiction like Bram Stoker’s Dracula casts Vlad as a monster, much of that image stems from propaganda and exaggeration circulated by his enemies. Vlad’s methods are responses to overwhelming odds, using fear as a tool to counter the vast numbers and brutality of Ottoman forces, all to ensure uncompromising defense of Christian territory and resistance to Islamic conquest.

The epitome of Vlad’s military prowess was his nighttime raid on the Ottoman camp, in which he personally led a surprise attack deep into enemy lines, sowing chaos, killing thousands, and attempting to assassinate the Sultan himself.

Although Mehmed survived, the psychological impact was devastating. Ottoman soldiers were left fearful, sleep-deprived, and unsure where or when the next attack would come.

By getting into the mode that territory must be defended and reclaimed, and understanding which territory is yours to defend, you will be on the path to being one of the revanchists of our times. Are you with me?

And men, consider that perhaps the territory that you have lost the most (conceded, not defeated) is your own marriage and your God-given authority and leadership role. And the TV and phone have already infiltrated and overtaken you as the father of your children.

Let that sink in for a moment.

…

If this has impacted you to strive to be a better husband and father, consider leaving a tip and support Catholic Knighthood by clicking the button below:

Help keep my armor shiny!

Remember this is what Christianity asks of us.

Are you ready?

Non nobis.

When St. Francis of Assisi knelt before the crucifix at San Damiano, he heard a command that was both literal and symbolic, both micro and macro: “Francis, rebuild my Church, which you see is falling into ruin.”

How does one do things symbolically? By doing things literally.

How does one do things at the macro level? By doing things on the micro level.

Francis, therefore, gathered stone, repaired walls, and rebuilt a crumbling chapel with his own hands.

Only later did it come to fruition that this “rebuilding” would also happen at another level. The stones mattered—but they were not the whole point. Through Francis’ obedience in the small and visible task, God rebuilt something far greater: the soul of the Church herself.

This is how God still works with men.

The temptation of modern Catholic men is to think only in terms of grand strategies: political movements, cultural dominance, abstract “revivals.” But Christ rarely begins with empires. He begins with obedience.

God first asks a man to repair what is directly in front of him.

For us, that place is the domestic church.

A Catholic home is not a private retreat from the world; it is the smallest battlement of Christendom. When a father prays with his children, when a husband leads his family in virtue, when a home is ordered toward the sacraments, truth, and sacrifice—stones are being laid. Invisible stones, perhaps, but no less real than those Francis carried on his back.

The modern world is collapsing not first in parliaments, but in living rooms. Disorder in the soul becomes disorder in the family; disorder in the family becomes disorder in the nation. The Protestant Reformation promised liberty without discipline. The secular Enlightenment promised reason without revelation.

What they both delivered is evident today. Fractured men, absent fathers, and hollow freedom. “Men without chests” as C.S. Lewis described.

A knight does not begin by seizing the throne. He begins by fortifying the keep.

St. Francis never set out to “reform the Church.” He set out to obey Christ.

God takes obedience and multiplies from what we have. One faithful man ignited a renewal that reshaped an age.

So it will be again.

In the book I am currently reading, Catholic Republic by Timothy Gordon (which will be my next book review), the author describes what is needed most today for national revival, and that is the proper enactment of Catholic Natural Law (developed first by Aristotle and refined by Saint Thomas Aquinas). He quotes James V. Schall that “there is a relation between the truth of man and the freedom of man.”1

In this regard, there is no shortcut to national revival (the freedom of man) that bypasses our domestic responsibilities (the truth of man).

And how does a man change, if he has not already changed? It is a mystery of the will, that a man can “have the capacity for moral goodness and true happiness by nature, but we must become good by choice.”2

Internal change in man cannot be partial or with cognitive dissonance. It must resonate all throughout his life so that the whole of his life is integral — of one unified will. Without this, the national scale will match the same disharmony.

If Catholic men rebuild the domestic church—one family at a time—then parishes will follow. If parishes are renewed, the culture will bend. And from a culture rooted again in truth, sacrifice, and the kingship of Christ, a genuinely Catholic republic can emerge—not as an ideology imposed from above, but as an order grown from faithful soil.

The command still echoes: Rebuild my Church.

The stones are already at your feet.

Non nobis.

References:

For this first article of 2026, I throw back to the Sunday Mass Readings from 28 December, 2025, from the Book of Sirach (The Wisdom of Ben Sira / Ecclesiasticus).

It is through verses like these, and other sources of theology and natural law, that the Catholic Church recognizes the father's role as the spiritual leader of the family, especially in leading the thanksgiving prayer for grace before meals.

The father, as the head of the household, should model faith and dependence on God, thereby guiding his family in spiritual life. The father is encouraged to lead the blessing of meals so that God’s divine graces can flow through him to all the members of the family.

Yet, in modern times, this standard has not been observed, and grace and meal prayers often get delegated entirely to the mother, or to the person who seems to be most naturally comfortable saying the prayer.

While the father does have the right to delegate this task, he should not do so as the norm. It should be the exception, based upon his preference and when he feels it appropriate.

The father’s role in initiating and sustaining this practice is vital, especially in a culture where quality family time is often fragmented by technology and individual pursuits. By leading prayer, the father sets a tone of reverence and ensures that faith is lived and passed on to future generations.

As the Catechism of the Catholic Church states,

2214 The divine fatherhood is the source of human fatherhood; this is the foundation of the honor owed to parents. The respect of children, whether minors or adults, for their father and mother is nourished by the natural affection born of the bond uniting them. It is required by God's commandment.1

The father, as the visible pattern of God’s fatherly love, plays a vital role in fostering God’s grace within the family. By creating a home marked by tenderness, forgiveness, respect, fidelity, and disinterested service, the father exemplifies the importance of why we even bother to practice our faith to begin with.

The father’s actions, when aligned with God’s will, become instruments of grace. The father’s faithful presence and love within the family are channels through which divine grace flows, helping to sanctify the family and draw its members closer to God, including children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

This grace enables the family to participate in the divine life of God, becoming a domestic church where the love of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit is lived out daily.

Fathers & Grandfathers, if you have not yet been leading the meal prayer, then 2026 is a great time to start.

Non nobis.

Further reading:

A Father’s Priestly Duty: Lead the Family in Prayer

References:

Catechism of the Catholic Church

Modern men feel this intuitively. We have relinquished authority and autonomy in our own households, and it makes us feel weak, rudderless, and unneeded. Sometimes in response, we lift weights, pursue discipline, study “virtue.” Sometimes, we drift into alcohol, drugs, and/or pornography.

Yet we remain restless—haunted by the sense that something foundational has been lost.

The collapse of masculine purpose did not begin with smartphones or feminism or late capitalism. It began much earlier, with a theological fracture that quietly dissolved the very architecture of Western virtue.

That fracture was the Reformation.

To understand why Christendom now crumbles, why holiness feels optional, why politics is reduced to procedure rather than moral order, we must trace the chain:

Reformation → Enlightenment → Secular Liberalism → Cultural Decay.

Only then can Catholic men reclaim their vocation as knights—not of nostalgia, but of restoration.

I. The Knight and the Sacramental World

The medieval knight was not merely a warrior. He was a moral instrument, forged by theology.

Catholicism offered a unified vision of reality:

• Grace was objective, mediated through sacraments.

• Virtue was cultivated, not merely imputed.

• Holiness was aspirational, not optional.

• Time itself was sacramental, ordered toward eternity.

A knight fought not simply for land or honor, but for the defense of a sacramental cosmos—a world in which heaven touched earth through altars, vows, fasting, confession, and blood sanctified by obedience.

The knight knew he could fall—and be restored. Sin was real, but so was repentance. Virtue required effort, discipline, asceticism, and submission to the Church. Masculinity was not self-authored; it was received.

This vision required courage precisely because salvation was not automatic.

II. Sola Fide and the Hollowing of Virtue

The Reformation shattered this unity by introducing a theological rupture that seemed liberating but proved corrosive: sola fide—faith alone.

While Protestant theology varies, its core impulse was this:

• Justification is forensic, not transformative.

• Righteousness is declared, not infused.

• The sacraments are symbolic, not causative.

• The Church is fallible, optional, even suspect.

The unintended consequence was devastating.

If salvation is secured by belief alone—if grace does not require cooperation—then virtue becomes secondary. Holiness becomes admirable, but not necessary. Asceticism becomes excessive. Confession becomes psychological. Authority becomes oppressive.

The knight is no longer forged through obedience and sacrament, but reduced to an interior believer, accountable only to his private conscience.

This is not accidental. Once grace is abstracted, discipline collapses. Once virtue is detached from salvation, effort becomes optional. Once the Church is bypassed, authority disintegrates.

What remains is sincerity—thin, fragile, and incapable of sustaining civilization.

III. From Reformation to Enlightenment: The Logic of Collapse

The Enlightenment did not oppose Protestantism—it completed it.

Once theology becomes individualized, reason follows. Once the Church loses authority, the State replaces her. Once sacrament fades, mechanism emerges.

The Enlightenment simply made explicit what the Reformation implied:

• Truth is accessible without tradition.

• Authority must justify itself rationally.

• God is distant, optional, or unnecessary.

The world ceased to be enchanted. The knight became a citizen. The citizen became a consumer, owing allegiance only to his own desires for comfort.

And masculinity—once cruciform, disciplined, ordered toward sanctity—became expressive, therapeutic, and eventually nihilistic.

Pre-Reformation, Scripture was primarily encountered in liturgy, as the “living Word” with the Church as its home. The Reformation’s sola scriptura emphasized the Bible as a standalone book, interpreted by private judgment, which splintered Western Christendom into confessional interpretations. As Jeffrey L. Morrow summarizes Legaspi: “Scripture died a quiet death in Western Christendom some time in the sixteenth century... The first development was the Reformation.”1

Protestant reliance on individual interpretation introduced rationalistic principles, fostering sects and reducing dogmatic content.

Later, Enlightenment universities formalized & distilled the lifelong process of sanctification into a 1-time diploma.

Only after the Reformation was the collective cultural faith of Christians and the yoke of obedience to the Church weakened enough such that Enlightenment philosophers like Hobbes, Spinoza & Voltaire could find fertile ground in which to plant seeds of critiquing God & God’s creation through only a rational lens.

As consequence, Protestant nations drifted away from moral striving to cultural secularization, destroying religious iconography and deposing anyone else who reminded them of the previous version of Christendom.

Leaders of Protestant nations, whether coronated or elected, continued to re-interpreted Scripture to favor their own political needs of the day.

The Protestant work ethic replaced Catholic sacred hourly and yearly liturgical order.

Rejection of the Church’s authority and enforcement of sacramental living led to less working out of salvation, and even less fear & trembling.

IV. America: A Protestant Republic with Catholic Ghosts

The United States Constitution is often praised as a triumph of political wisdom, praised as the perfect balance and agreement of mutual compromises. But it is those compromises that ultimately made it untenable in the long run, for it was a compromise between two worldviews that are at odds:

• the Catholic view that man is broken yet capable of pursuing virtue, justice, and perfection, thus self-governance is attainable through a sacrificial and sacramental life

• the Protestant view that man is depraved to the point where self-governance is impossible but that faith alone will somehow allow God to impute harmony.

Thus the Constitution is a Protestant document built with some Catholic premises of natural law.

Its flaws reflect Protestant theology:

• It assumes moral virtue without cultivating it.

• It distrusts authority rather than sanctifying it.

• It separates power from moral truth.

The Founders assumed a virtuous populace—but rejected the sacramental system that forms virtue. The result was inevitable: a republic that slowly hollowed out, replacing moral formation with legalism, and eventually with bureaucratic coercion.

A system built for Protestants cannot survive a post-Christian age. When internal virtue fades, external force expands. Liberalism devours itself.

This is not a failure of “America” as such—it is the logical end of Protestant political anthropology.

V. Toward a Catholic Republic

A return to Catholic theology is not nostalgia. It is realism.

A Catholic political vision understands:

• Man is fallen and needs formation.

• Virtue must be cultivated communally.

• Authority is necessary—and accountable to God.

• Law must serve the common good, not mere preference.

A Catholic Republic would not be a theocracy. It would be a polity that acknowledges moral truth, natural law, and the formative power of institutions—especially the Church.

Such a society would:

• Support families as schools of virtue.

• Recognize the public role of religion, and define sharply what is & is not religion.

• Restore honor, duty, and hierarchy.

• Align freedom with responsibility.

Citizenship in a republic should not come easy. Public benefits must earned.

Religion in a republic should be well defined. Atheism & Satanism cannot be recognized as religions. Sharia Law cannot coexist with a republic.

This vision cannot emerge from Protestant individualism. It requires a sacramental worldview—one in which men are trained, corrected, absolved, and sent forth.

In other words: it requires knights again.

The Catholic Church herself is not currently well-stocked with sufficient numbers of knights for this challenge, but she knows how to grow them. She simply has to remember her roots.

VI. The Call to Modern Knighthood

The crisis of our age is not merely political. It is spiritual and masculine.

Catholic men must reject the thin gospel of “faith alone” and recover the thick, demanding beauty of Catholic holiness. We must return to confession, fasting, obedience, penance, and sacramental life—not as aesthetic preferences, but as acts of resistance.

The knight is not saved by belief alone. He is saved by grace that transforms him—and he knows it.

Christendom will not fall because of enemies without. It will fall if men refuse to become saints.

The sword is broken because the altar was abandoned.

It is time to kneel again—so that we may stand.

Non nobis, Domine, non nobis. Sed nomini tuo da gloriam.

Keep my armor shiny!

Further reading:

This article, Christendom: Broken Sword and Crumbling Cathedral, is Knightly Apologetics #11, a follow-up to this previous article from a year earlier,

References:

Defenders of the West by Raymond Ibrahim profiles eight Christian military leaders who defended Europe against Islamic expansion between 1100 and 1500.

Each chapter focuses on a different historical figure, detailing their motivations, battles, and lasting impact on Western civilization.

What lessons does it give us for not only being inspired to fight ba…

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