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Christopher Check on The True Roots of Mass Violence

Christopher Check, President of Catholic Answers, writing for Catholic Answers Magazine:

A good bit of the political rhetoric that followed the El Paso and Dayton massacres argued that we can arrest or reverse immoral behavior with legislative, therapeutic, or technological solutions. We have heard calls for more federal money to address mental illness, more legal restrictions on the ownership of firearms, and better software for sifting through billions and billions of social media posts. Some of these measures may well prevent some future brutality, but their effect will be marginal.

I propose something more fundamental: Christians who feel a sense of helplessness or even despair after each mass shooting should start being honest about evil, with themselves and with those that God puts in their lives. If you are reluctant to talk about evil and need a pep talk, I recommend the stirring final chapter of St. Paul’s letter to the Ephesians:
For we are not contending against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world rulers of this present darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.


Let’s set aside talk of the culture war and talk instead about spiritual combat. Paul’s meaning is clear: evil is personal. There are demons at work in the world, and these demons are persons—not just vague forces or bad feelings. If you have ever been tempted by the deliberate efforts of another human person, you can at least have a guess at how vastly more skilled demons are. They need not bother with your senses. They can go straight to your imagination.


For very good reason the Church exhorts us to make it a fair fight by seeking the help of St. Michael and his angels to defend us in spiritual combat. For very good reason the Church warns us to avoid the occult. I discourage you from looking at all into the obsessions of the Dayton killer, but his enthusiasm for the demonic cannot be separated from the evil acts he committed. Was he possessed by a demon? The Church is careful not to make such determinations without close examination and cannot do so in this case. But it would be naïve to dismiss the massacres that are now so much a part of our news cycle as merely the actions of racists or the mentally afflicted.

Amidst all the attempts to politicize — and to politically profit from — these tragedies, I haven’t heard too many takes like this, taking into account the metaphysical (yet very real) dimensions of these evils.

As a former Marine, Check knows, as did G.I. Joe, that “knowing is half the battle”. But only half. To win, one must not only understand the enemy one is up against; a practical battle plan is needed. Check offers one strategem in particular:

Closer to the truth, of course, is the causal relationship between the disintegration of marriage and family and the abundant social pathologies that afflict the children of broken homes. My friends Allan Carlson and Jennifer Roback Morse, and many other historians of the family, have amassed data enough to choke an elephant showing that social chaos fills the vacuum left by the retreat from marriage. If the government wanted to promote the one institution whose failure leads more than any other to the violence plaguing our country, it would encourage marriage and the traditional family. An easy way to do this would be tax incentives that favor intact families with children.

Catholics who want to do something about mass shootings should live fully and publicly the teachings of the Church concerning the sacrament of matrimony. Here are two: don’t divorce and stop contracepting. That sounds glib, I know, but matrimony is a sacrament, so with it comes all the graces needed to live it to the fullest.

Direct and to the point. Many of today’s lost boys and girls are the casualties of the War on Marriage and the Family being waged in our culture today. Intact families don’t always produce law-abiding citizens, of course (original sin and its aftermath, at work in the existence of free persons who can choose against the good, are always in play), but there is no question that healthy “cells” (families) are the key to the health of the “body” (societies, be they nations or the Church).

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James Carroll Misunderstands the New Covenant Priesthood

(My latest for Catholic Answers Magazine.) James Carroll, an ex-priest writing for The Atlantic, recently argued for an abolition of the Catholic priesthood, mostly due to the abuse scandal. He is certainly right that the priesthood in general has its problems, as continuing revelations of abuse and cover-up have shown.

But I want to focus on another assertion Carroll makes: namely, that in the nascent Church, “There was no priesthood yet,” at least not by the time the great Jewish historian Josephus wrote about the early Christians, about sixty years after the first Easter. In other words, Carroll doesn’t see the priesthood as intrinsic to the New Covenant established by Christ.

This view is at loggerheads with that of the Catholic Church—that the priesthood of the New Covenant was established by Jesus himself and is foundational to the Church’s identity as the new Israel. Let’s take a look at one individual mentioned in Scripture who, despite being shrouded in mystery, leaves us an important clue in this regard.

St. Luke, writing in the Acts of the Apostles, introduces us to St. Matthias, who replaced Judas as the twelfth apostle (Acts 1:15-26). In so doing, Luke provides us with some unexpectedly rich apologetic material concerning the New Covenant priesthood, despite the relative obscurity of Matthias himself. He is never mentioned again in the New Testament, although later apocryphal accounts speak of his preaching to the Ethiopians. Both the early Church historian Eusebius and St. Epiphanius believed that Matthias had been one of the original “seventy” disciples of Jesus (cf. Luke 10:1).

As an aside, the fact that Judas had to be replaced at all reinforces the fact that “the Twelve” were an integral part of what Jesus had intended to establish with the New Covenant. Jesus’ selection of twelve apostles clearly evoked the foundational twelve tribes of Israel, which was not lost on his fellow Jews and certainly not on his opponents in the Jewish religious hierarchy. The titulus nailed above our crucified Lord’s head on the cross (cf. Luke 23:38) emphasized the main charge against him: that he claimed to be the “King of the Jews,” the King of Israel.

Israel was originally ruled by judges, not kings, because the Jews recognized God as their true King (in fact, the book of Judges views the people’s desire for a human king as an abomination—see especially 8:22-9:57). It was God who had founded the nation and established its twelve tribes derived from the sons of Jacob, who was renamed “Israel.” Thus, to claim the authority to establish a new (or renewed) Israel, with a new Twelve, is a strong claim to divinity on Jesus’ part.

This new Israel featured a new temple—the Church, a community of “living stones” (1 Pet. 2:5); a new sacrifice—the Eucharist, which in fact is the New Covenant in Jesus’ blood (Luke 22:20); and a new priesthood, celebrating this new sacrifice on a new altar. “We have an altar from which those who serve the tent [the Old Covenant priests, at the Jerusalem Temple] have no right to eat” (Heb. 13:10).

Luke’s two-volume work, comprising his Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles, is a masterpiece on many historical and theological levels. One of the things Luke does so well is to set the story of Jesus and the Church in continuity with the Hebrew Bible (the Old Testament), often in remarkably subtle ways. One of the best examples of this is how Luke presents his account of Matthias’s selection:

“So one of the men who have accompanied us during all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, beginning from the baptism of John until the day when he was taken up from us—one of these men must become with us a witness to his resurrection.” And they put forward two, Joseph called Barsabbas, who was surnamed Justus, and Matthias. And they prayed and said, “Lord, you know the hearts of all men, show which one of these two you have chosen to take the place in this ministry and apostleship from which Judas turned aside, to go to his own place.” And they cast lots for them, and the lot fell on Matthias; and he was enrolled with the eleven apostles (Acts 1:21–26).

A casual reader might assume that the method by which the eleven picked Matthias was a mere game of chance, leaving room for the Holy Spirit to make his sovereign choice. But remember, Luke’s gospel and Acts are a two-volume set, and Luke knows his readers will remember the beginning of the first book and connect it to the opening scenes of his sequel.

In Luke 1, we read about the “annunciation” to Zechariah, the future father of John the Baptist. Why is it that Zechariah, a priest, found himself on duty in the temple the day Gabriel appeared to him? “Now while he was serving as priest before God when his division was on duty, according to the custom of the priesthood, it fell to him by lot to enter the temple of the Lord and burn incense” (Luke 1:8–9, emphasis added).

In other words, casting lots was a means of delineating priestly duties in the Old Covenant, and Luke shows that method was used again in selecting Matthias in the New Covenant period. This is something that the first readers of Acts would likely have noticed. The implication is that the office of priesthood is essential to the function of an apostle of Jesus Christ. This dovetails nicely with what Luke’s close companion in ministry, the apostle Paul, notes when he speaks of “the grace given me by God to be a minister of Christ Jesus to the Gentiles in the priestly service of the gospel of God” (Rom. 15:15–16, emphasis added).

The New Covenant priesthood, contra James Carroll, was not something the Church “invented” later on; the early Christians saw the apostles (and their successors) from the beginning as sharing in a special way in the priesthood of Jesus Christ. There are many other reasons this is so, far more than we have space to discuss here. But this truth is confirmed in a unique way in Luke’s account of the selection of St. Matthias as an apostle.

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Bible History Set in Stone

(My latest for Catholic Ansers Magazine. Enjoy!  — Cale)

A few weeks ago, while leading a pilgrimage tour to Israel, I couldn’t wait to bring the group to one of the greatest museums in the world: the Israel Museum in Jerusalem. Packed with artifacts from the biblical period, it’s a treasure trove for anyone interested in the material remains of salvation history.

The museum also houses one of the more important archaeological finds of recent years: an artifact that has bolstered our confidence in the veracity of the Old Testament accounts of the kingdom of David, his son Solomon, and their successors.

Biblical “minimalists” had long contended that King David did not actually preside over a kingdom that originated circa the tenth century B.C., as the Bible states. Indeed, these scholars alleged that David, Solomon, and in fact the entire line of Davidic kings chronicled in the Old Testament, are nothing more than fictional characters invented by the writers of the Hebrew scriptures.

In favor of the “minimalist” argument was the lack of any evidence of David’s existence outside the Bible.

But here’s where archaeology came to the rescue. During the 1993-94 excavations at Tel Dan, in northern Israel, a stele (a stone slab bearing an inscription) was unearthed. Made from basalt, a volcanic rock plentiful in the region, it bears an account of a military victory. Scholars have postulated that the inscription commemorates an Aramean king’s defeat of Israelite forces. It may have been commissioned by Hazael or Ben-Hadad III, his son (cf. 2 Kings 10:32, 13:3, 22; 2 Chron. 22:5).

The key line on the monument, the stunning find, is the mention of the “House of David.” There it was, written in stone—independent confirmation of David’s existence and of a line of kings so powerful that defeating armies from this “House” warranted a public brag of sorts on this stele, for all passersby to read and marvel at.

Analysis of the stele dates it to the mid-ninth century BC, right around the time when, according to Scripture, David’s dynasty would have been flourishing. It appears that the stele was broken by the Israelites after they recaptured the area some time later, and was eventually repurposed into building blocks for the city wall.

After this discovery, as chronicled by Craig Evans, the minimalists changed their approach. “Okay, okay,” they admitted, “maybe David existed after all. But he was a nobody. A local tribal chief, at best, certainly not the originator of the vast, Iron-Age kingdom described in the Old Testament.”

At this point, faced with what seems like special pleading, one is tempted to respond like Jerry Seinfeld: “Really? Really?”

But don’t despair—again, archaeology is our friend here.

First of all, if David had been merely a small-time local yokel, what on earth were his descendants doing fighting battles all the way up north, near the modern-day border that separates Israel and Syria, far from his allegedly tiny operation in Jerusalem?

Also, a vast, centralized complex of buildings—in all likelihood, a government compound—has been unearthed in the Old City of Jerusalem, and can be seen on tours today. It’s located in what’s known as the “City of David” and dates to approximately the tenth century B.C.; once more, the time when Scripture says that David and Solomon were establishing their empire. Again, this seems fairly excessive if we’re talking about an insignificant tribal chieftain, but it does fit the biblical narrative of David’s expansive realm.

To this our minimalist might say, “I’ll grant you that David existed, and perhaps he did preside over a significantly large kingdom, but we still can’t trust what the Bible says about him. The people of David’s time would not have been significantly literate enough to record his exploits or those of his descendants”.

This last objection is at least partially answered by—you guessed it—yet another archaeological discovery. In 2008, an ostracon (an inscribed piece of pottery) dating to the tenth century B.C. was disinterred at the ancient fortress city of Khirbet Qeiyafa, which was the only fortified Judahite city during the reigns of David and his predecessor, King Saul (in fact, the Qeiyafa ostracon is the only extant relic that mentions Saul).

The famed French epigrapher Émile Puech regards the inscription as the earliest writing narrating the transition of Israel from a people ruled by judges into a kingdom. It shows that the people living around David’s time were literate, and in fact, more than capable of recording (and passing on) the annals of David’s dynasty, such as we see in the biblical books of Kings and Chronicles.

The Tel Dan stele and the Qeiyafa ostracon are just two examples from the multitude of archaeological discoveries in Israel that have bolstered our understanding of, and in many cases substantiated the reliability of, biblical records of history. Since only roughly five percent of all biblical sites have been excavated to date (which is unbelievable considering how much has already been found), It’s truly exciting to think of how many more such finds may be unearthed in the years to come.

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