The inscription translates as "I shall destroy the wisdom of the wise".

Who were the wise?

The wise were scientists and philosophers who thought that knowledge could be acquired through observation of phenomena, engaging in inductive reasoning to make general statements about the phenomena, and then moving through to increasing higher levels of generality to form what we now call theories.

From theories testable hypotheses could be derived which the "wise" would seek to falsify or disprove in experiments.

Hypotheses not falsified (disproven) added to the credibility of the theory (or modified it in certain ways).

This became "the scientific method" and its application has helped all branches of science to progress.

Aquinas knew this was wrong; the church said so and taught so.

Knowledge did not come from reasoning; it came from God. And God said that the sun went around the Earth whatever the observations of "scientists" might say to the contrary. They were blasphemers and heretics, people whose views had to be expunged from society lest they corrupt more people.

Fortunately, we don't accept Aquinas's theory of knowledge anymore (nor his cosmology).

However, since at least the 1930s we have seen much pseudo-science; findings that seem to have the trappings of genuine inquiry but on close examination are not fully in accordance with the principles of the scientific method.

The late Professor Sir Karl Popper assailed the propagators of such work as perverting science and thought their aims were ideological, not scientific.

He reserved particular contempt for Marxists and their fellow travellers who wanted to use science for propaganda, not for education or learning, or to promote freedom (see The Open Society and its Enemies).

Misuse of science and intellectual falsehoods in the name of "truth" and "for the greater good" undermined democratic values and open debate, he argued.

These days there is a lot of "this is the official line, which shall not be questioned, and is indeed unquestionable because the science is settled". For ‘‘science'' equally read ‘'history" or ‘'truth''.

I don't think that nutters and people who are plainly wrong should be allowed free rein to peddle complete nonsense which could alarm the public, but I am not sure I want to be overly vigorous about stamping out their views. Continue reading

• John Bishop is an experienced journalist across all media, business, economics, politics features, and profiles. He also has an interest in travel and writes at www.eatdrinktravel.co.nz

Although many Catholics seek to use this period as "a time of renewal," as one priest put it, a vocal minority are approaching the pandemic with words more suited to culture warriors than to spiritual warfare.

Any Catholic who has spent time on social media has probably encountered members of the faithful who are deeply suspicious of public health precautions.

They will admit that people who are particularly vulnerable to Covid-19 are worthy of special protection. But they resist as overzealous government intrusion any precaution that might impede upon their personal right to celebrate the sacraments.

This mentality of suspicion leads some Catholics to deride those who observe public health precautions as cowards who have capitulated to a spirit of fear.

To support their uncharitable attacks, they point to Jesus' teaching (as in Mt 16:26) that the soul is more valuable than the body.

Some even go so far as to assert that Catholics who refrain from attending public liturgies out of fear of Covid-19 are lukewarm in their faith.

How, then, to respond to those who claim that Catholics who heed health guidance are giving themselves over to an un-Catholic "slavery...by their fear of death" (Heb 2:15)?

I suggest consulting St. Thomas Aquinas. In his Summa Theologiae, St. Thomas offers profound observations on fear and the virtue that remedies it, fortitude. Some points he makes are especially relevant to today's debates.

There is no sin in fearing the needless loss of one's life or health.

A sin is by definition an unreasonable act. But, Aquinas says, "reason dictates that we should shun the evils that we cannot withstand, and the endurance of which profits us nothing. Hence there is no sin in fearing them."

The answer to fear is not defiance. It is fortitude.

Our fear should lead us to ask God for an increase in the cardinal virtue of fortitude.

But practicing fortitude does not mean tempting God by being reckless. Rather, Aquinas says, fortitude strengthens us by "curbing fear and moderating daring."

The words of the Serenity Prayer offer an example of fortitude in action: "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and wisdom to know the difference." Although the "wisdom to know the difference" comes from the virtue of prudence, which directs the other cardinal virtues, the "serenity to accept the things I cannot change" and "courage to change the things I can" are both aspects of fortitude.

And this brings us to our final point from Aquinas: The principal act of the virtue of fortitude is not aggression. It is endurance.

Sometimes it is necessary to attack our fears head-on. A priest I know faces his fear of Covid-19 so that, taking every reasonable precaution, he may bring the sacraments to patients in hospitals who are dying of the virus.

Aquinas grants there are times when one has no other option than "aggression"—taking bold action against that which causes fear. Even so, he takes care to emphasize that "the principal act of fortitude is endurance, that is to stand immovable in the midst of dangers rather than to attack them."

But St. Thomas does not stop there. Continue reading

Is there a trick for overcoming sorrow and recovering our smile? St. Thomas Aquinas suggests five remedies against sadness that have proven surprisingly effective (Summa Theologiae, I-II, q. 38).

1. The first remedy is granting ourselves something we like. It's as though the famous theologian had already intuited seven centuries ago that "chocolate is an antidepressant."

This might seem a bit materialistic, but no one would deny that a tough day can end well with a good beer. It's hard to refute this by citing the Gospel, since our Lord took part joyfully in banquets and feasts, and both before and after his Resurrection enjoyed the noble and good things in life.

One of the Psalms even says that wine gladdens the human heart (although the Bible also clearly condemns getting drunk).

2. The second remedy is weeping. St. Thomas says "a hurtful thing hurts yet more if we keep it shut up, because the soul is more intent on it: whereas if it be allowed to escape, the soul's intention is dispersed as it were on outward things, so that the inward sorrow is lessened" (I-II q. 38 a. 2).

Our melancholy gets worse if we have no way to give vent to our sorrow. Weeping is the soul's way to release a sorrow that can become paralyzing. Jesus too wept.

And Pope Francis said that "certain truths in life can only be seen with eyes cleansed by tears. I invite each of you to ask yourself: Have I learned how to cry?" Continue reading

Source & Image

• Aleteia, from a conference given by Carlo de Marchi.

The remarks of some of the participants in the debates gave the impression that the insistence on truth—and on justice based on truth—is indicative of a merciless mentality.

Does that mean that in order to be merciful we have to reduce our emphasis on truth and justice?

And so the broader question arises: What is the correct relation between mercy and justice according to the traditional teaching of the Church?

In order to answer this question it is useful to take a brief look to St. Thomas Aquinas.

In unfolding his concept of justice, Thomas Aquinas follows Aristotle.

He defines justice as the cardinal virtue which leads a person to give respectively leave to everyone that to which he is entitled or that he owes him. The aim of justice is the common good.

But the circumstances under which justice is to be granted can be of various types. Therefore it is necessary to distinguish between different manifestations of the general principle of justice.

In the case where the individual owes something to society, he has to follow that justice which is in accordance with the law (justitia legalis).

If it is society that owes something to the individual, distributive justice (justitia distrubutiva) has to be applied.

If an individual owes something to another individual, their relationship is to be regulated according to commutative justice (justitia commutativa).

However, there are cases in which an individual or group lacks that to which this person or group is entitled because it is necessary for its survival or at least essential for its good life.

Such lack does not necessarily have its origin in unjust conditions, but is often due to ethically neutral circumstances. This is the situation in which mercy comes into play.

Thomas adopts Augustine's definition of mercy as compassion in declaring, "Mercy is the compassion of our heart when considering the misery of another person". Continue reading

Sources

• The Catholic World Report, from an article by Professor Thomas Heinrich Stark, a professor of philosophical anthropology at the Benedict XVI Institute of Philosophy and Theology at Heiligenkreuz, in Austria.
• Image: The Integrated Catholic Life