Stockholm in the sunshine feels like one of the seven wonders of the world. The fresh breeze flowing over the Baltic Sea, after having combed through the 10-15,000 islands on Stockholm's archipelago, combined with one of Europe's most beautiful skylines always makes you feel welcome. 

  

Although virtually unknown on the theological circuit, aside from perhaps Zwingli's post-reformation anabaptist episode, Stockholm has some beautiful church buildings. 

The first that I visited was Katarina Kyrkan (Kyrkan being Swedish for church). It is situated in the city district of Upsala, just to the south of the Baltic port. It is a wonderfully designed Protestant basilica with a dome. Most Swedish city churches still have their vast graveyards, space is not an obstruction to their architecture, although interestingly you will find that there are very no skyscrapers in Stockholm in an attempt to conserve the wonderful seventeenth century skyline. 

  

There was a christening happening inside, but in spite of this we were still welcomed in and shown around the beautiful church hall. The history of the church itself is a bloody one. The chapel dates back to 1303, and the grounds were famously used for state beheadings over the C16-18. The parish is also famous for the witch trials of the 1670s. 

  

The interior is indicative of its Protestantism, simple yet focused on two main features. The altar, which promotes Martin Luther's "sola fides sola scriptura" and the imagery of Christ, usually manifested in stain glass or a wooden sculpture of a crucifix. This church is particularly smart inside because the most part of its interior was burned down in 1723 and then again in 1990. The Swedish decided to rebuild and refurbish in keeping with the old measuremets and details, which I feel is particularly special.

The second kyrkan: Deutsche St Gertruds Gemeinde, we visited was by mistake. We thought that this was the cathedral, due in part to its magnificent teal lead roof. We walked in, three minutes before closing, and the lady told us as such. I mentioned that I taught RS and she closed the church to the public and gave us a wonderful tour. 

  

This, as the linguists amongst you may have figured out, this is the German Lutheran church of St Gertrude. This wonderful church again had a nasty fire in 1878, which gutted the steeple and bell structure. The building itself dates back to 1571 with a Royal Patent letter extending from King Johan III, not long after Martin Luther's reformation movements started in 1516.

It has a royal box which is really special, although not in keeping with the usual Lutheran decor. It was built in 1672 to accomodate the Swedish royal family, who were also German Lutherans, and the cost was largely donated from patrons and royalists. 

What was most fascinating about this German church, which was Bavarian Lutheran, was the stained glass. The windows are wonderfully Germanic portrayals of family life:

 

The third Christian building we went to was Stockholm's oldest cathedral: Storkyrkan (cathedral in Swedish). Within this vast structure full of flying buttresses, royal galleries and elaborate sculptures, was a beautiful ebony and silver altar, donated to the cathedral in 1650. 

 

This sculpture is carved out of oak, using horse hair and 
elk antlers for the horse and dragon respectively. It was consecrated in 1489 as an altar monument. It has its place in Swedish folk law as it was commissioned by Sten Sture the Elder as a triumphant memorial of his conquest against a Danish onslaught. The cathedral is dedicated to St George and there is a wonderful sculpture of him slaying the dragon, very Game of Thrones-esque:

  

The first written mention of the original church on this spot, the highest point of the island of Stadsholmen (deep in the old town - Gamla Stan) dates at 1279. The oldest part of today's functioning cathedral date to 1306. It is phenomenal that this structure has maintained its beauty and magnitude. The exterior of the church, in its pale red brick and high steeple were rebuilt in 1736 in the Italian baroque style to complement the Royal palace which stands not far away. King Carl Gustaf III and his wife Silvia Sommerlath were married here in 1976.

Now, don't judge me... But the fourth building I have here is not a church, but Stockholm's magnificent City Hall. Anyone like to hazard a guess as to when it was built? C14? C18? No, work finished on this tremendous structure in 1926. It is a testament of multicultural architecture. The view from the promenade outside are just amazing:

 

You can see an Islamic crescent, Christian flying buttresses, Arabic arches, a Jewish star, baroque brick work, traditional Swedish lead roofs, bronze sculptures reminiscent of the classical age. The list goes on.

 

Change of Blog address:

Dear faithful viewers,

We have moved to http://www.DCReligionandTheology.wordpress.com

See you there!

Churches of Sicily

On my travels accompanying the Classics department's Half term trip to Sicily, I was lucky enough to see myriad ecclesiastical structures. From Cathedrals, Duomos, chapels and converted Hellenistic temples. 

It all started in Cantania, shortly after arriving on the Eastern coast of Sicily. Cantania is the island's second largest city to Palermo: 500,000 populous. 

The centre of Catania houses the Duomo and the University. In the Piazza Duomo there is a magical conglomeration of architectural stylings. The C11 Norman foundations still exist within the C18 baroque exterior added by the Bourbons. 

Upon leaving Cantania we drove 40km up the coast towards Acireale. This sleepy town has a lovely C17 centre with beautiful chapels and two Duomos in its central Piazza. The St Peter's Duomo to the right, and The Santa Maria Duomo to the left. 

Not only were there whopping great cathedrals in this sleepy Sicilian town, but there were fantastically rustic chapels addorning every street corner. The third cathedral was the below, notice how it draws on  French angular styles, not dissimilar to Notre Damme, Paris. This may well be as a result of the architect specifically capturing the island's Norman heritage. 

We then moved on to Taormina. A popular tourist destination where I was convinced that the Godfather had been filmed. I was of course, mislead. Within the centre were beautiful Catholic chapels opening out onto the Via Alta. 

Elaborately decorated and marvelled-to-the-max. These chapels are emblematic of Sicilian Christian culture. Upon leaving Taormina, we drove across to Suracusa which has the Island of Ortygia at its helm. The town itself was at its height of power in the C4BCE and the harbour was the arena for the infamous destruction of Athens' Great Expedition. 

In the town centre of Ortygia there is a cathedral which is the product of no less than 5 differing architectural styles. At it's origin it was a Greek temple to Hera. Then it was added to by the Sacracen empire on their conquest of Sicily (the tell-tale arches at its roof constructed later by the Normans give this away). Then it was expanded on by the Normans in the C11. Finally the Italian baroque front was added in the C18 which gives this majestic building a sense of wonderment I have never seen any where else. 

Further down the hill is this rather quaint sea-side Sicilian town there is a Hellenistic Temple to Apollo. This was an early example of a Greek temple, as seen by the shape of the Doric capitals. The monolithic columns also indicate its early structure. 

The arches are not originally Greek. They are in fact C11 Norman installations to allow light into their converted church. The Normans were a pious people and churches would have formed the platform for their new societies on Sicily and the heart of their communities. 

Our next Duomo was Marsala. The golden stone is indicative of the upper Western coast of Sicily; the columns at its front are reminiscent of the Carthaginian and Roman heritage of this town. 

Our final destination was Palermo. The Duomo is dedicated to Vergine Maria Santissima Assunta in cielo - The Virgin Mary's Ascension. This incredible structure was built by Roger II of Sicily in C12. It too encompasses a variety of architectural styles; built by the Normans; founded on the site of a Byzantine basilica, although that was later converted to an Islamic mosque. 

The cathedral was added to in the Gothic style in the C13-15s under Spanish occupation of Sicily. Finally, in the C18, the building was Classicised to add Neoclassicism to its enormously diverse style. 

What an island! What a trip! Thalatta, thalatta! 

Dr Pyke's lecture on Benedict VXI:

Shortly before lunch on a Monday morning in February, I received the news from a member of Upper Sixth that the Pope, Benedict XVI, had resigned. Whilst it had been obvious for some time that the 86-year old pontiff appeared increasingly frail, like many people, my initial reaction was one of disbelief: after all, this was the first pope for 600 years to resign, and the first to do so voluntarily since 1294.

This is how a cartoonist viewed Benedict’s resignation

though it has since come to light that his decision was based upon a ‘mystical experience’, the result of many weeks of prayer. Benedict’s final days as Pope culminated in his departure by helicopter from the Vatican to the Pope’s summer residence at Castel Gandolfo outside Rome, where at 8pm the Papacy was declared sede vacente prior to the gathering of the Conclave to elect his successor. The heavily charged symbolism of the day was evident in the tolling of the bells of St. Peter’s, the withdrawal of the Swiss Guards from the Papal residence and the destruction of Benedict’s papal seal and ring. The Pope emeritus, as it was announced he would be called, returned to the Vatican three months later to live, as he said, ‘invisible to the world’, in a life of prayer, surrounded by his books and kept company, one assumes, by Contessina, his cat. This rather medieval situation of two popes in the Vatican has, by all accounts, been trouble free, since Benedict enjoys warm relations with his successor, who regards him as ‘a wise grandfather living at home’ rather than an anti-pope.

Why have I chosen Benedict as my theme today? As it happens, I am not Roman Catholic, though the strand of Anglicanism to which I adhere prays for the Pope each Sunday. And it’s not because Benedict is from Bavaria, which I seem to have visited more than any other part of the world other than Russia over the last twenty years.

It’s primarily for two reasons. Firstly, a desire properly to understand a figure whom I think at best was respected rather than popular, even amongst his co-religionists. Secondly, because his writings and sermons are not only highly intelligent, but also possess an unexpectedly lyrical quality. I should add that whilst I regret never meeting Benedict, there are three volumes of conversations between him and a German journalist called Peter Seewald, which give an unprecedented insight into the character of a pope. So, in a curious way, I do feel that I know him as far as I can.

Benedict’s life is best explained by one image, and three traumas.

This  – the black Madonna of Altötting –

lies at the heart of the most significant Roman Catholic shrine in Germany. Benedict – or, I should say, Joseph Ratzinger, was born ten miles away, and regularly visited it as a child. He closely identifies with the shrine, and this, I think, explains two key aspects of Benedict’s personality: firstly, that although formidably intelligent himself – more so any other twentieth-century pope – he strongly empathises with the simple faith of ordinary believers, and believes that theologians such as himself have a duty to protect rather than undermine that faith. Ratzinger thus did not hesitate to discipline errant theologians during his time as Prefect of the Congregation of the Faith prior to his election to the papacy.

Secondly, in the silver casing around the statue itself is depicted the Tree of Jesse, a representation of Christ’s descent from the Old Testament. Benedict undoubtedly did more than any other Pope to emphasise the Jewish ancestry of Christianity, and clearly feels a great affinity towards the Jewish people. This is significant, since certainly until the Second World War, it was commonplace in some quarters of the Church to blame Jews for the murder of Christ, the world-famous Passion Play in Oberammergau in Bavaria explicitly so until international pressure forced its text to be altered in 1950s.

What of the three traumas?

The first was that Benedict’s childhood coincided with the Nazi period.  Benedict grew up in a beautiful part of Germany along the Austrian border which he later called ‘the dreamland of my childhood’. By a coincidence he was born ten miles not only from Altötting, but also from Branau-an-Inn, where Hitler had been born 38 years earlier. That strange breed who like pointing out coincidences in history have noted that his predecessor, John Paul II, was also born between the greatest Polish shrine to Mary at Kalwaria and the extermination camp at Auschwitz: but what this really typifies is the dichotomy of good and evil which characterised the twentieth century. Benedict was conscripted into the Hitler Youth, then the anti-aircraft defences of Munich in 1943, and deserted before the end of the war, narrowly escaping being shot by the SS on two occasions.

Reading Benedict’s account of these years, one is left with two impressions: firstly, his acceptance that there will always be evil in the world, and his conviction that Christ alone can redeem and save it. Secondly, a fear of what he sees as man-made ideologies such as Nazism, which draw upon selective elements of science, morality and convenience to construct an alternative to authentic religion. Only the Christian Faith, he believes, can truly contend this attack. This was a consistent standpoint for Ratzinger, conspicuous in his writings on ‘the dictatorship of relativism’ in the 1990s, wherein he argued that the values of modern secular society were increasingly and aggressively relegating religion from the public sphere and thereby denying society of the one true source of morality. Unlike the Swiss government, for example, he accepted the case for minarets in Switzerland.

Benedict’s unequivocal attitude towards ‘truth’ thus also shaped his attitude towards ecumenical relations with other churches & religions: he seems to believe that the basis for true ecumenism is facing up to one’s differences rather than playing them down. This caused the greatest storm of his pontificate on 13 September 2006 when his address at Regensburg University quoted a medieval Byzantine Emperor to the effect that whilst Christianity is fundamentally based upon reason, the prophet Mohammed’s endorsement of conversion by the sword suggested a fundamental divergence. Barely a paragraph in a long address, this was avidly seized upon by the media. It also won Benedict some unlikely allies, including our then Head of English, who believed passionately in freedom of speech. In any case, two months later, Benedict visited the Blue Mosque in Istanbul and said, “May all believers identify themselves with the one God and bear witness to true brotherhood.” Whilst he might not have anticipated the furore his words created, I am convinced that that he knew exactly what he was doing all along.

Much of Ratzinger’s middle age was spent teaching theology at various German universities. He enjoyed debate amongst his students and valued the idea of a university as a community of scholars – it’s no coincidence, then, that he greatly admires John Henry Newman, author of The Idea of a University, whom he beatified during his visit to the UK in 2010. However, the second – and related - trauma for Ratzinger was the Marxist-inspired ferment of 1968 and its aftermath, which he felt undermined the essence of theology itself and put him on the intellectual defensive – indeed, he acquired the nickname ‘God’s rottweiler’ as a result. To appreciate Benedict’s position, I recall the answer when I asked a senior member of Cambridge University in 1989 why they had so little personal intercourse with undergraduates. ‘We used to’, he replied, ‘but the protests destroyed the trust between senior and junior members of the university’. Ratzinger took no comfort from the collapse of Communism in the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe. Rather, his writings make a vigorous case that Christianity – properly understood – represents a compelling fusion of faith and reason, and that man-made utopias are – well, precisely that. He is innately suspicious of unrealistic expectations of human progress since, as he has written, ‘Mankind begins anew in every individual’.

I am not entirely convinced by all of Benedict’s reasoning: faith, it seems to me, is fundamentally an act of unreason, however reasonable the case for God may be. Moreover, unlike Benedict, I see the eighteenth-century Enlightenment as anticlerical rather than Christian; it was Romanticism which represented a religious revival of sorts. It’s revealing, I think, that Benedict loves Mozart rather than Wagner. In any case, whilst we are accustomed to see the 1960s as liberating, as ‘a good thing’, for Ratzinger they were the opposite. Although he had attended and welcomed the Second Vatican Council at the beginning of the decade, he was appalled by how its carefully worded statements were increasingly bypassed by a very different agenda based upon the so-called ‘spirit of the Council’. Again, Ratzinger fought back vigorously, and the extraordinary election of a highly conservative (and charismatic) Polish pope from behind the Iron Curtain in 1979 must have given him great solace.

The final trauma was his election as Pope in 2005. His brother writes movingly of the moment of horror for Ratzinger as it became evident that the voting in the Conclave was turning towards his election. Ratzinger had clearly hoped for a quiet retirement devoted to study and writing. Instead, his papacy was marred by the unfolding clerical abuse scandal in Europe and the United States, which he likened in a conversation with Peter Seewald to the antichrist entering the Church; and, towards its end, by the so-called Vatileaks affair. In his last general audience as Pope, Benedict poignantly said: ‘He who assumes the Petrine ministry belongs always and completely to everyone, to the whole Church. His life is, so to speak, totally deprived of the private sphere’. There were moments of his pontificate, he added, when ‘The Lord seemed to be sleeping’. Indeed, when Benedict returned to Germany in 2006, and prayed at his parents’ graves & saw the font in which he was baptised eighty years earlier, he must have known that he would probably not return – as these photographs seem to suggests

.

How, then, to assess Benedict’s papacy? I think the fair-minded historian would draw out:

1. His affinity towards the Jewish people
2. The determination of his intellectual position
3. His writings and his pastoral commitment

I would also want to stress that Benedict could surprise:

• He developed an authentically  personal style as Pope - one of humility and warmth. When I saw him in London in 2010 I was unexpectedly moved by these qualities.

• His strong sense of aesthetics – the media was always interested in fashion sense (revival of certain items of papal clothing). Shoes [not Prada]; camauro [winter]; capello romano [summer].

• He introduced a papal tweet.
• And, of course, most unexpected of all: his resignation – which may decisively shape the future of the institution.

Benedict’s pontificate will, I suspect, be seen as the end of an era, as pivotal in a longer-term shift in Catholicism from Europe to South America and Africa. But its key unresolved issue – as he himself would surely acknowledge - is the relationship of the Church with the modern world, particularly on moral and ethical issues. In Benedict’s later writings and statements, he seemed to espouse the idea of a radically slimmed-down Church – akin to the first three centuries of Christian history -  which remains true to its intrinstic faith. In this sense, Pope Francis represents his true heir: Francis may reform the Vatican administration, but I don’t expect that he will change the essence of Roman Catholic teaching in any significant way.

On the other hand, Francis’s presentation of the Faith does seem more nuanced and therefore more acceptable to the twenty-first century, particularly since it is coupled with an intensely simple personal style. Benedict, for example, whilst explicit in his rejection of homophobia and adamant that every human being possesses a God-given dignity, would never have said, as Francis did in an extemporised press-conference on a plane in July, ‘If someone is gay and he searches for the Lord and has good will, who am I to judge’. Francis’s commitment to social justice is also more vigorously expressed verbally, however equally Benedict has promoted it in writing. On the other hand, Francis’s teaching remains that of the Catechism which Benedict compiled, and his first encyclical was largely written by Benedict (though one can detect where the intellectual tone has been slightly softened).

I don’t predict that there will be a call in the future for Benedict to be canonised, though this is perhaps unjust. I would like to highlight a final aspect of his pontificate: courage. By this I don’t mean that when asked by Peter Seewald whether he feared assassination Benedict responded with a razor sharp, ‘absolutely not’. Rather, I’d like to mention his decision to have private meetings with the victims of clerical abuse. He did this in London, for example, and it’s telling that those meetings overran considerably. It’s easy to deride this as a gesture which can never atone for what happened (nor, of course, can it prevent it happening again without the child safeguarding measures which Benedict insisted that his bishops institute.

Whilst Benedict himself was painfully aware of the inadequacy of this personal gesture on his part, it was clearly something that he felt very strongly about and felt compelled to do.  Perhaps the key imponderable I leave you with – given everything I’ve said about him - is to consider what he would have felt, and said, during those meetings.

9th September 2013

Shift in Religious Landscape post 1960

www.Popsci.com

Have a look at the article on the above link. "Even if religious doctrine hasn't changed all that much in thousands of years, the number of people practicing religion, and the places they worship, can look completely different in only a few short years..."

Introduction to PPE by Tamar Gendler:

Tamar Gendler is the Head of the Philosophy faculty at Yale University, USA. In this video she is outlining the introduction to how the disciplines of Philosophy, Politics and Economics interact with each other, touching on Plato's dialogues and the social construct theory.


Do watch and comment. Questions you may wish to ask are:

1) How has political philosophy had to adapt as technological advances are made?
2) What are the implicatrions of Nozick's views about democracy, anarchy and economics?

The 3 Minute Philosopher strikes again:

John Locke

The first edition of @DCReligionTheology gets published on Saturday for Founders Day.

Look out for your copy!

Unconventional, yet effective educational advice

Christianity in the media

This video is targeted at GCSE 'Religion and the Media'. It's an ethics topic in B604. The concept of this video is to get you thinking outside of the proverbial box in order to understand how religion is viewed in society.

What is Interfaith Dialogue?

This video is targeted at the Year 8 boys who are about to embark on a 'Places of Worship' outing to The West London Synagogue, The Regent's Park Mosque and Islamic Culture Centre, and Westminster Catholic Cathedral.

What can DCReligionTheology offer you?

http://youtube.com/DCRT2012

http://twitter.com/DCReligionTheology

http://vimeo.com/DCReligionTheology

GCSE Philosophy Revision by Video:

This is how to revise through kicking back and watching awesome video clips:

If we look at the following clip from iRobot, we can find out about the B602 topics: Religion & Science and Good & Evil.

By analysing the role of Artificial Intelligence we can seek to understand the concept of creation. As scence is progressing one needs to understand how religion can communicate effectively with science (dialogue), also the fact of whether this needs to happen. The moral dilema within this film shows how the constant progression of science involves constant ethical and spiritual enquiry.

Key terms: dialogue, origins of the world, origins of humanity, place of humanity in relation to animals and AI, stewardship, dominion, environmental issues.

The next video clip from The Day After Tomorrow explores the concepts of dominion and stewardship and whether or not we, humanity, has the responsibility to look after the earth. The communuication between religion and science becomes distinct when you then ask the question, is it our reposibility to look after God's creation? We can also look at the differences between natural evil and moral evil.

Inception makes us think of the very nature of reality. We start to question whether what is around us is created or an accident (Paley's teleological argument). Russell's brute fact suggests that if we are empiricists then we should not seek to question creation and its cause. We should trust in what is around us, our senses. Miracles would therefore create a conflict here. If we were to trust in a miracle, for examples Lourdes where St Bernadette built a chapel to honour the Virgin Mary over the spring in which Mary had bestowed healing qualities.

This clip from Inception also evokes thought on death. The "wake me up" scene tackles with the concept of death in one dimension but not in the alternate dimension. This could be similar to the Christian concept of death, which develops from Plato's dualism, that the body is distinct from the soul. Ensoulment is our key term here. When a Christian dies, they believe their soul is judged (particular judgement) and then proceeds to Heaven or Hell (judgement takes place in purgatory for Roman Catholics). The body then joins the soul in Heaven at general judgement.

The Matrix, a classic weapon Religion & Theology teacher's arsenal. This clip analyses the dichotomy between having knowledge of God and understanding Him. A Christian may well feel they have a knowledge of God: he is omnipotent, omniscient, immutable, timeless, creator and benevolent.

However one cannot seek to understand God, or his actions. Christianity teaches, in a similar vein to the other Abrahamic religions (Judaism and Islam) that one cannot undermine God by asserting to know his motives. If something is attributed to God then we, as his creation, cannot seek to justify his actions. This is in essence the Story of Job. God can act as God needs to act, and that does not have to be justified to us. The problem of evil therefore, with original sin as a justification for suffering in the world, needs to be referenced along side this. Can a benevolent God let evil happen?

Do comment or Tweet with any questions or queries.

Worship in scale:

Houston, Texas, USA boasts claim to one of the largest "megachurches" in the world. The Lakewood Church has a capacity of over 17,000 seated (up to 20,000 in total).

Is this the way Christianity needs to go to keep up-to-date with the C21st?

Should religion be practiced in this way, does it lose a certain personal/private aspect of worship?

The Church broadcasts its services both live and via a video blog channel:

If charesmatic worship and congregational energy is your thing, then this seems to be a great environment for likeminded Christians. However this does make a change from dwindling parish attendance records in the Anglican churches spattered across the UK.

The Lakewood church is non-denominational. This not only means that their is an 'open-door' policy to worship, but that the community spirit seems to be amalgomated and positive. Could the UK benefit from a shift in worship practices like this? What do you think?

What is Christianity?

In order to understand Christianity we must first explore its history as the doctrinal development of the religion has influenced greatly the way in which it is practiced globally.

The fundamental core doctrinal beliefs of Christianity are that it is a monotheistic religion; it has a Trinitarian concept of God, this is that God comprises God the father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. Whereby there are three distinct yet unified entities within the one united God. Christians believe that God the son: Jesus Christ was sent by Him to be the Messiah which fulfils the prophecies of the Jewish Pentateuch and the Old Testament. Jesus is believed to be both son of God and son of Man, therefore transcending the boundaries between God and humanity, which is why, Christians believe, He was able to sacrifice himself for the salvation of mankind.

The Christian Holy text is the Bible. This comprises the Jewish Pentateuch (the first 5 books in the OT) more OT writings and prophecies, and the New Testament canon. This is made up of the four Gospels, some additional texts and the Pauline scriptures. The canon was decided upon over a series of Councils in the first few centuries CE.

The life and teaching of Jesus Christ led those who believed that He was the son of God to form themselves into a spiritual and political movement where they were known as Christians. Greco-Roman society in C1-2 CE was dangerous to be a Christian. At the time Christians lived in the Roman Empire and the Romans believed had an eclectic polytheistic and pagan spiritual mix, where Caesar was God. The Romans persecuted Christians who refused to accept that.

This all changed in 313CE when the Roman Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity. Constantine declared Christianity to be the official religion of the Roman Empire and the influence of the Christian religion increased rapidly. Predominately the two most important historical figures of early Christianity were Peter and Paul. Paul spread the Gospel into the wider Middle-east and to Greece; Peter based his teachings of Christ in Rome. By C10^th CE there were two main centres of power; The Western Catholic Church which was based with the Pope in Rome, Italy; and the Eastern Orthodox Church based with the Patriarch of the Church of Constantinople, Turkey.

The reformation C16^thsaw the doctrinal discrepancies of the accessibility of God’s work in the Bible; the transubstantiation in the Eucharist; the worship of saints; ‘faith through works’ and Luther’s sola scriptura create a schism between the Catholic and the ‘now termed’ Protestant factions of Christianity. Another schism took place before the reformation in 1054CE and centred on the core concepts of Orthodox and Catholic Christianity. The Eastern Orthodox Church has remained relatively unchanged to this day since the ‘Great Schism’ of 1054CE occurred.

When one analyses the doctrine of Christianity and its history, one can see that Christianity is not just a belief system centred on the teachings of one man. It is about an identity and a faith structure which is fundamental to Western history and the political development of the Globe over the last two thousand years.

Immortality of the soul

One of the main themes in the Phaedo is the idea that the soul is immortal. Socrates offers four arguments for the soul's immortality:

• The Opposites Argument explains that as the Forms are eternal and unchanging, and as the soul always brings life, then it must not die, and is necessarily "imperishable". As the body is mortal and is subject to physical death, the soul must be its indestructible opposite. Plato then suggests the analogy of fire and cold. If the form of cold is imperishable, and fire, its opposite, was within close proximity, it would have to withdraw intact as does the soul during death. This could be likened to the idea of the opposite charges of magnets.

• The Theory of Recollection explains that we possess some non-empirical knowledge (e.g. The Form of Equality) at birth, implying the soul existed before birth to carry that knowledge. Another account of the theory is found in Plato's Meno, although in that case Socrates implies anamnesis (previous knowledge of everything) whereas he is not so bold in Phaedo.

• The Affinity Argument explains that invisible, immortal, and incorporeal things are different from visible, mortal, and corporeal things. Our soul is of the former, while our body is of the latter, so when our bodies die and decay, our soul will continue to live. 

• The Argument from Form of Life explains that the Forms, incorporeal and static entities, are the cause of all things in the world, and all things participate in Forms. For example, beautiful things participate in the Form of Beauty; the number four participates in the Form of the Even, etc. The soul, by its very nature, participates in the Form of Life, which would mean the soul could never die.

Witness: Pope Francis I

Father Nicholas King sj, a friend of mine whom acted as my guide and source of knowledge in a tour of the Middle East with the University of Oxford in 2010. Nick has written a fantastic article on the election of the new Pope. Nick is a Jesuit priest and an authority on both the Catholic Church and New Testament theology. He wrote the following article for a South African newspaper and has kindly allowed Dulwich College to share it with its students:

  

Pope Francis I

It has been an extraordinary few weeks in the life of the Catholic Church, from the almost-unheard-of resignation of a Bishop of Rome to the totally-unheard-of election, accomplished with quite remarkable rapidity, of a Jesuit as his successor. It may be helpful to readers to explain that the Jesuits (“Society of Jesus”) is a religious order founded in the 16^th Century, whose members were forbidden to accept high office in the Church (unless commanded by the Pope). The reason for that was that in those days, when reform was urgently needed in the Church, to be a bishop was a gateway to wealth and power, and our founder, Ignatius Loyola, was very aware of the temptations that money and power could bring. Perhaps at the present critical juncture in the history of the Church we need just such a Pope as the one who has taken the name of Francis, after that other great reformer, from Assisi.

So are the Jesuits exulting at this turn of events? I have to say that they are not; listening to my brethren over breakfast and at supper, not to mention what I have heard them saying on the radio and the television, they are as astonished as the rest of the world, and not very much more knowledgeable, about the new Pope; there is also detectable a certain reserve, a sense that it is not quite the sort of thing that Jesuits should do. Non-Jesuits, by contrast, have been full of congratulations in the telephone messages and e-mails that have flooded us during these few hours.

However, like the rest of the human race, Jesuits are showing a good deal of enthusiasm at the election of this particular man; and they point to his humility, and the frequently-repeated, and undeniably impressive, fact that he flies economy class, even across the Atlantic, lives on his own, not in a palace but in an apartment, that he cooks for himself. And we share, I think, the sentiment to which many people have given utterance, that it is “a breath of fresh air”: his evident prayerfulness, his request to the crowds in St Peter’s Square to pray for God’s blessing on him, the impressive simplicity of his style, and, perhaps above all, his devotion to the poor. Inevitably some people ask whether he is a “conservative” or a “progressive”. These are unhelpful labels, beloved of lazy commentators; each of them represents an admirable quality, but tend to be used only as unreflective boo- or hurrah-words, rather than describing any sensible reality in the Church today.

As a Jesuit, I notice that he is of working-class stock, that he was appointed Provincial Superior in Argentina at the very young age of 37, having been a priest for only four years; and that his time as Provincial was during  those very difficult years of the 1970’s, when the Church and the Society of Jesus were grappling with the implications of the Second Vatican Council, and many Jesuits were leaving to get married; and it was also politically a painfully difficult moment in the history of Argentina. So he must have learned some hard lessons about dealing with division and crisis in the Church. Secondly, it means that he will have had the experience of making the 30-day silent retreat, known as the “Spiritual Exercises” at least twice in his life, and an 8-day version each year since. That should ideally mean that he is a man of deep prayer, which is indeed the impression that he has radiated to the world. Thirdly, he is a man used to living in community, even if for the last 20 years he has been living the solitary life of a bishop. Fourthly, that very experience of being a bishop will have given him the important pastoral experience of listening to what real people are saying; and his first public appearances suggests that he has the gift, so sorely needed in the Church, of being able to “talk human”. It is also of immense significance that as a bishop he washed and kissed the feet of sufferers from HIV/AIDS. [Angela: there is a wonderful photograph of this 2001 event; see http://communio.stblogs.org/pope-francis-i/]

Finally, and best of all, I observe from all over the world an extraordinary upsurge of optimism about the Church in its present (admittedly tricky) situation; several people, including one very senior religious sister, have said to me, by e-mail or telephone or in conversation, that they are feeling better about the Church than they have done for years.  This is a very good indicator of the presence of the Holy Spirit.

Anyone who tries to predict what shape Francis’ papacy is going to take is bound (like all those who so confidently predicted the outcome of the Conclave) to end up looking stupid, so I am not going to do that. The best thing about the present moment is that it does not feel like a victory for this party or that; instead it has the fresh and joyful unexpectedness that is the sign that the Holy Spirit has been at work. Let me conclude, therefore, by simply asking for the prayers of all readers, not just Catholic, nor just Christian, but of all the many religious traditions in this province of Kwa-Zulu Natal for the new adventure on which we are beginning. And even if you think that you may be atheist, I would still ask that you spare a thought for Francis I. We live in a world that is very closely linked, and the Bishop of Rome can influence that world very much for the better, if he will listen to the voice of God and to the voice of the poor. This is a very happy day for us all.

Fr. Nicholas King SJ is a Jesuit priest who teaches at the University of Oxford, having previously taught for many years at St Joseph’s Theological Institute at Cedara, KZN. He is also an honourary chaplain for Lourdes.

If you would like any further information on Father Nicholas King sj or indeed his works, do follow the links within.