Andy and The Emptiness of Social Justice, Part I: What Fifty Million Dollars Can Teach You

Andy is a sociology major.  He wants to do good.  He cares about social justice and dreams of finding a solution for societal problems, such as drug addiction and homelessness.

For his birthday, one year, Andy receives a lottery ticket as a gift.  He is hesitant, but politely accepts and finds, to his bewilderment, that it is a winning ticket.

Well, what a surprise...

Andy is now the not-so-proud recipient of $50 million, compiled through crushed hopes and desperate irresponsibility.  His friends suggest buying a Lamborghini and a beach house and his family recommends investing in biotech, yet Andy knows that, in order to balance the scales of justice, he must find a way to use this stroke of fortune to help those in need.

Tempting...

He realizes, contrary to his friends’ fantasies, that spending a limited sum of money on luxuries will ultimately result in losing both his money and his luxuries.  Due to taxes, insurance, and the inevitable amount of upkeep a mansion and a sports car would require, it would take not only a gigantic but a continuous flow of income to maintain such a lifestyle. Money is fluid, his parents tell him.

His parents’ advice is to find a way for his money to make money:  That is, if he wants to keep his fortune, he must find a way to produce a fortune.  With so much money, they say, it should be easy enough to invest it in ways that will at least maintain his wealth for the future.  Andy is a thoughtful young man, and this advice strikes him as practical, but ultimately self-serving.  He decides to conjure up a plan to use the money in a way that will benefit mankind, beyond himself, yet in a way that will last like any wise investment.

He considers a few ideas that he has entertained, in the past as only daydreams, yet now very much within his reach: 

He imagines that, were he simply to give away his whole fortune to the poor and needy, it would flow away even more quickly than if it were to be poured into a garage full of Lamborghinis; not because the poor are principally irresponsible, but because money is gone once it is spent.  $50 million could feed an entire country for a year, maybe five years, then it would be gone, and both he and the poor would be back where they started.

Perhaps, he reasons, he could build schools and start scholarships and fund free education.  Perhaps, he reasons, he reasons too much, because the schools he would build would be to empower their students.  Knowledge indeed is power, and the investment he would put into it would likely remain stable, but what kind of power is it?  Education would improve lives by providing skills which would increase chances of employment but, without the opportunity for employment, skills are useless.  He himself is educated and were it not for the grim indifference of luck, he would still be working a part-time job for which he is quite over-qualified.  Education seemed like a noble cause at first, but Andy would like to do more than create candidates for unemployment.

 

Model Employees

If education empowers, but is useless without opportunity, he must create opportunity, he thinks.  But how does one do that?  The needy are in need of a living; the poor are poor not because there is want of charity, but because they cannot support themselves.  Andy is convinced that the answer must be to create jobs.  This is a very difficult problem and he is beginning to understand why nobody else has solved the issue of poverty yet.  To create employment effectively, he must become an employer, he decides.  To become an employer, he must secure a labor-based income for his employees; to do that involves business and production.  The more Andy tries to figure out how to help people, the more his thoughts become entwined in schemes very far from his initial ideas. 

Happy little workers, working happily...

He does not want to believe that creating a business is the surest way to help those in need.  Businesses create value, but they do not generate money.  When a business makes a profit, it is because it takes in more money than its products are worth:  What is an income to one is an expenditure to another.  To create a business would only add one more competitor to the market and might ultimately disadvantage as many people as it would help. 

This much is only speculation, Andy realizes, but he discovers that, when it comes to business in general, some things are certain.  One is that the most successful businesses merely supply what is in high demand and that actually producing those things are, in practice, secondary to making a profit from them.  He also realizes that demand is not often the same as need:  The things we need, like food and clothing, are actually quite common and cheap, whereas the things we demand (i.e. want and pay for) are usually more expensive and hence encourage much business to supply.  If business is the answer, then in order to benefit those who cannot produce what they need, he must supply what others demand, so that he can turn the needy unemployed into employed demanders.

To Andy, this seems to be counter-intuitive, and his suspicion is that it seems counter-intuitive because it is counter-productive.  Why would it not be possible simply to let people produce what they need?  Why could he not somehow turn the needy directly into producers?  Perhaps, he thinks, he should figure out what it is exactly that people need.  He does not think it fair to strive only for the survival of the needy; he wants to encourage a decent quality of life for them as well.  There is certainly a global spectrum of poverty, which ranges from starving expatriates to dispossessed addicts, and even fifty million dollars will not be able to help them all.  Andy begins to become depressed by the thought of a sound fortune with nothing to spend it on.  He decides that five of those dollars can go towards a beer and he makes his way to the local pub.

Later at the pub, Andy beholds a striking revelation as he leaves a fiver on the bar in exchange for his frosty beverage.  He had not even thought of the transaction before he made it, but his new net worth has put transactions in a new light for him; he himself has no way of getting anything, whatever the need or demand, without paying for it.  He could buy virtually whatever he wants, but he still has to buy it.  Why?

Socialism: "You work, we'll decide what you need."

Andy goes for a long walk to mull over this question.  Certainly money makes getting things very easy, so long as one has money, but this is a problem for those who do not have money:  The things that one needs are almost always made for the specific purpose of selling them.  So, if one has no money, he cannot get what he needs.  His last five-dollar purchase has made Andy realize that not even he, with all of his money, can change the way this works.  Necessities cost money, which one makes through employment.  He thinks of a type of employment in which employees are given necessities directly as compensation, but this seems very disagreeable to him, almost like slavery.  Money creates a convenient flexibility of purpose; the choice of what one buys is up to the one who buys it and employers do not have to decide for their employees what they should or should not have.  Of course, employers could not give their employees anything but money anyway, because whatever an employer supplies or produces is usually not a necessity, as Andy has already noticed.  So, he figures that standard employment works best as a money cycle:  Each business sells things to its customers and gives a share of the money to its employees. 

In this money cycle, though, each kind of poverty finds its own kind of problem.  He could fly into some famine-stricken third-world village and hand out hundred-dollar bills, but the money would be useless in a place where there is nothing to buy.  He could approach the homeless in any industrialized city and hand out hundred-dollar bills, but they would likely not spend that money wisely.  He could go to either place, address the people’s needs, and buy things for them, but there are already organizations which do precisely that.  It seems to become more clear to him, but Andy feels that tapping into a money cycle is quite a roundabout way of promoting social justice.  After all his thinking, he is convinced that people should be able to produce what they need, even if the world is too complicated to let that happen now.

When beach houses don't seem like a problem...

As far as what they need, he knows that rations and a tent do not lift a man out of poverty.  He now knows too, however, that three square meals and an apartment do not make a man rich, and neither does a Lamborghini and a beach house.  He knows which of these he would prefer to have, but fifty million dollars have convinced him that the value of money is not relative (as he used to think) but arbitrary.  Money only goes as far as those who want it; that is, it is only good for buying things, but what he buys and why he buys it is up to him and, then again, sometimes it is not.  He has no control over what his money means, just as the poor have no control over what their lack of money means.  If he wants to liberate the poor (and himself) he must liberate them from that which makes them poor; and it is not money.  It is the inability to produce what they need:  It is their absolute dependence on others to supply them with what they need for a price which others determine.

Americanism and Democracy

       “Do not conform yourselves to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect.”  Rom 12:2

In 1899, Pope Leo XIII addressed the encyclical, Testem Benevolentiae, to Cardinal Gibbons of Baltimore (the Premier See of the United States) concerning a heresy he referred to as “Americanism.”  In the encyclical, Leo described Americanism as describing collectively a set of opinions to which he believed the American cultural and political atmosphere to be especially susceptible:

“The underlying principle of these new opinions is that, in order to more easily attract those who differ from her, the Church should shape her teachings more in accord with the spirit of the age and relax some of her ancient severity and make some concessions to new opinions.”

That is, if the Church would “get with the times,” there would be greater harmony between the world and disgruntled believers alike.  Cardinal Gibbons was quick to reply, stating in defense of the Church in America that the opinions against which Leo had spoken were virtually non-existent among American Catholics.  Gibbons might have been honest at the time, but Leo was no fool.  About a century later, it is obvious that Americanism is very much alive.

            The reason Americans are especially susceptible to such opinions is that, although they are in principle a democratic people, there is a widespread confusion as to what democracy means.  When one asks any Christian what his beliefs are, he is likely to get an answer like “Conservative Baptist” or “Liberal Catholic, but…”  It seems that Christians let their democratic-political way of thinking shape their religious views.  In addition to this muddling of principles, however, there is a ubiquitous conviction of belief in the separation of Church and State.

            Many argue that Leo XIII sought to abolish this belief, but those who make this assertion misunderstand it.  The Founding Fathers designed the American system of government in response to a system which they felt was too easily prone to tyranny.  A monarchy or aristocracy does not necessarily have a vested interest in the good of their subjects unless it threatens their own wellbeing.  The apparent solution to this problem was to create a government in which the good of a people was put into their own hands under their own governance.  This implied, however, that the people knew well enough what was for their own good.  Activists like Thomas Paine showed that the general population could indeed be well-enough equipped to handle their own affairs so long as the public was capable of participating in the political forum.  It was this capacity for the free exchange of ideas that was seen as the leaven of democracy, though American society at the time was unanimously Christian:  Many social goods that are the center of controversy today were no more than a natural and common disposition.  It is well-known that there was a prejudice against “Papists” which lasted into the nineteenth century mainly for the reason that Catholics were perceived as living under papal obedience and thus incapable of holding their own opinions in the public sphere.  This prejudice, of course, dwindled over time as it became evident that even Catholics could keep Church and State separate.

            The fact that this prejudice existed at all shows that Church and State bear a much closer relationship than is commonly thought, and our forefathers knew this.  Both the Church and the State concern man and his actions with one another.  Whatever one’s religious beliefs may be, they will manifest themselves in his actions, yet one’s actions are also the subject of laws and policies enacted by the State.  Ultimately, therefore, it seems that one need only to determine which actions concern religion and which concern public policy.  This is the general understanding of the separation:  What concerns public policy is one thing and what concerns religion is another.  This usually works well.  The State can mandate brake lights and window tax while the Church obliges Sunday worship and works of charity.  So what do we do when the State commands a priest to testify against his confessants or legalizes the murder of unborn children?

            When “separation” is understood only as drawing a line between the two, there inevitably arise ambiguities of authority which turn the distinction between Church and State into a fierce antagonism.  It should be surprising when it happens, especially in a democratic society, because each institution is concerned with the same thing; namely, the good of the individual and of society.  When each institution becomes the other’s rival, both the individual and society are torn apart, and this is ultimately disastrous for both: “A house divided against itself cannot stand.”  The separation of Church and State, then, is only a healthy separation if they strive for a mutually sustainable goal.  Only then will they not interfere with each other.

            American government is designed to prevent tyranny.  Christianity teaches that there is no greater tyranny than sin and moral depravity.  A cursory knowledge of history demonstrates that the most despotic of nations are also the most depraved.  There is nothing which is inherently at odds between sound moral doctrine and sound civil management, yet there is nevertheless a growing demand from “progressive” Christians to change what they believe to be “outdated” theology as well as federal law, as if what is good and natural changes with the times.  Why can we not just live in the 21^st century?  Because Christians live according to a Truth that is eternal and a law which is in accord with that Truth.  A law devoid of Christian morals is ripe for tyranny, democratic or not. 

A true, healthy democracy is not the rule by a majority which decides what is good for their country, it is the rule by a majority which seeks the good of their country.  The greatest good will never be found without the guidance of Christianity.  Democracy is perhaps the safest system of government for its citizens, but an un-Christian majority is ignorant of the goodness of God and thus doomed to live in dysfunction, as Saint Thomas Aquinas observed in the first response of his Summa:

“It was necessary that man should be taught by a divine revelation; because the truth about God such as reason could discover, would only be known by a few, and that after a long time, and with the admixture of many errors.”

Scripture and Inerrancy

The inerrancy of Sacred Scripture is a tenet of faith that is firmly rooted in Catholic teaching and tradition.[1] This belief flows from the understanding of biblical inspiration, that the scriptures are authored by the Holy Spirit, using human writers as His “instruments”.[2]  Despite these teachings, the scriptures nevertheless seem to contain incoherencies.  In the critical tension brought on by the progress of science, the last century has seen much hostility toward the content of truth in Sacred Scripture and has influenced many to question the validity of the historical events therein portrayed.  The authority of the Church has nevertheless continually insisted that Scripture be considered true in every sense.  Though holding fast to the Tradition of the Church, the question “is the Bible inerrant,” which those of faith already find answered in the affirmative, makes way for the question “how is the Bible inerrant,” which demands a nuanced explanation.  An answer to the latter becomes yet more difficult in regards to the literal sense of Scripture.  However, by examining the recent pertinent writings of Church authority and the saintly authors they draw from, one may see the ways inerrancy extends to every ‘sense’ of scripture without becoming a barricade to reason.  It then becomes evident that an apparent literal incoherency does not compromise truth, but merely reveals a misunderstanding of the literal significance in question.

It has traditionally been an essential practice to read Sacred Scripture with respect to four different but unified ‘senses’.  The Catechism of the Catholic Church affirms the distinction of the four senses, recalling the words of Augustine of Dacia: “The Letter speaks of deeds; Allegory of faith; the Moral how to act; Anagogy our destiny.”[3]  St. Thomas Aquinas, in his Summa Theologiae, arguing against the notion that these distinctions bear any duplicity of meaning, explains how the allegorical, moral, and anagogical senses all compose what is termed the ‘spiritual sense’ of Scripture.  He emphasizes the unity of meaning in Scripture by asserting that the three spiritual senses are founded on and draw their meaning from the literal.[4]  The post-synodal apostolic exhortation Verbum Domini recalls and affirms the same four senses and St. Thomas’ demarcation of them into the literal and spiritual.[5]  Verbum Domini further expounds on these two senses, insisting that, although distinct, they must not be read in a dualistic manner, which threatens to place the literal and spiritual understanding of Scripture in opposition.[6]  The literal and spiritual sense of Scripture, therefore, are as closely connected as body and soul; the one being absurdly meaningless without the other.

Taking into account these two senses, it may seem permissible to suggest that the inerrancy of scripture extends to the deeper, spiritual sense which contains matters of faith, hope, and morals, while the literal sense, concerning historical events, is in major part safe from the challenges of historical contradiction as it does not seem to bear any significance in relation to salvation.  For example, it is clear that to confess the Catholic Faith is to admit of the life, death, and resurrection of Christ.  These concrete events thus compose a sure portion of the historical truth of the Bible.  Some, however, would suggest the presence of error in accounts found in both the Old and New Testaments which are at best unlikely.[7]  

This judgment is often based on a proposed interpretation of the Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation Dei Verbum.  It is thus stated in section 11 of Dei Verbum, concerning the inspiration and interpretation of Scripture:

…since everything asserted by the inspired authors or sacred writers must be held to be asserted by the Holy Spirit, it follows that the books of Scripture must be acknowledged as teaching solidly, faithfully and without error that truth which God wanted put into sacred writings for the sake of salvation.[8]

It seems plausible to interpret this passage to mean that that which God put into Scripture concerning salvation is inerrant; i.e. that inerrancy applies only to events significant to salvation.  This could not be held in light of the preceding statement that “...everything asserted by the inspired authors” has come from the Holy Spirit, which clearly defines the extent to which God’s truth can be found.[9]  Furthermore, such a misinterpretation cannot be held in respect to the teaching of the Church which has addressed such and similar views prior to the promulgation of Dei Verbum.

In Pope Leo XIII’s encyclical Providentissimus Deus, on the study of Holy Scripture, he addresses the issue of interpretation and scriptural inerrancy in regards to scientific or historical opposition.  He recalls the words of St. Augustine:

…I must say briefly that in the matter of the shape of heaven the sacred writers knew the truth, but that the Spirit of God, who spoke through them, did not wish to teach men these facts that would be of no avail for their salvation.[10]

Pope Leo XIII explains that the sacred writers often wished only to describe things in a figurative sense and in ways of speaking as was common to their time.[11]  It is apparent that the Bible was not intended by its authors (human or divine) to be a scientific treatise but merely portrays how the human authors perceived the world around them.  Augustine, however, as stated above, also claims that the sacred writers knew the truth, suggesting that, although they merely spoke of their immediate perception, their knowledge of material things reflected the truth as well.  Leo XIII, alluding to Augustine, warns “…not to depart from the literal and obvious sense [of Scripture], except only where reason makes it untenable or necessity requires.”[12]  This is a counsel to cling to the literal sense and form interpretations as closely as possible to the original meaning of the text.  It is not permission to discredit a passage of Scripture simply because it does not make immediate rational sense or is in opposition to some current historical or scientific standpoint.  He later in his encyclical makes this clear:

…It is absolutely wrong and forbidden, either to narrow inspiration to certain parts only of Holy Scripture, or to admit that the sacred writer has erred.  For the system of those who, in order to rid themselves of these difficulties, do not hesitate to concede that divine inspiration regards the things of faith and morals, and nothing beyond, because (as they wrongly think) in a question of the truth or falsehood of a passage, we should consider not so much what God has said as the reason and purpose which He had in mind in saying it – this system cannot be tolerated.[13]

It is therefore imperative to give full credibility to what is written in Sacred Scripture, with the allowance of reason to guide our understanding, but certainly not in a way which compromises what is being communicated to us, in any sense, through Scripture.

This strict limit to interpretation may seem to some as some kind of quasi-fundamentalism.  Pope Benedict XV, however, in his encyclical Spiritus Paraclitus, seems to set even further limits by taking an even stronger position with inerrancy.  He recalls the words of his predecessor (quoted above) and takes ‘certain parts’ of scripture to mean not only passages in the text but also the different senses therein contained.[14]  He states that those who fail to recognize the “absolute truth” of Scripture’s “historical portions” place themselves in opposition to Church teaching.[15]  Throughout his encyclical, he strongly emphasizes the necessity of keeping faith in the historical truth of Scriptures; most especially in the Gospels.

Pope Pius XII, in his encyclical Divino Afflante Spiritu, continues in the same spirit as his above mentioned predecessors in his treatment of Scriptural inerrancy.  He recalls the words of Leo XIII and affirms his position that Sacred Scripture cannot be restricted solely to matters of faith and morals, rebuking those who posit the concept of ‘obiter dicta’ (things said on passing) as inapplicable to salvation and therefore not necessarily inerrant.[16]  He continues throughout his encyclical to describe the importance of historical and critical exegesis and the study of original texts in their respective languages.

Lest one think that the teaching of the Church throughout the last century has been one of fundamentalist leanings, with a phobia of science and honest historical inquiry, it should perhaps be noted that faith in the truth of Scripture is coupled by a familiarized need for its rational understanding.  To say that Scripture is in every way inerrant is not to say that all knowledge which comes to us must be cast aside if it seems in opposition to Holy Writ.  The key to forming an understanding of literal inerrancy is humility.  As Leo XIII has helped to express, referencing St. Augustine, one cannot think to understand the whole of Scripture, but if something should arise as to bring up some issue concerning its truth which cannot seem to be reconciled both with faith and reason, one must regard it ultimately as a fault of his own understanding.[17]

How does one thus improve his understanding of Sacred Scripture?  In regards to faithful literal interpretation, the Church deems the historical-critical method (i.e. seeking to understanding the meaning intended by Scripture’s human authors in their own contexts) not only greatly useful but even necessary.  A clear promotion of this method is found namely in Divino Afflante Spiritu and further emphasis is given to its importance in the Historical Biblical Commission’s The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church (1993).  The latter specifically states that it is to be used in achieving the true literal sense of Scripture.[18]  When reading a text which has been written centuries in the past and in a culture greatly different from one’s own, the “face value” of the text does not convey the same meaning as its author originally intended.  Thus there are many nuances involved in understanding the text which the average modern reader could not grasp without proper guidance.  For example, whether the evangelists considered it necessary to portray the story of Christ’s life with chronological precision or to transmit His words verbatim does not often factor into a common understanding of the text’s primary meaning.  Yet such considerations greatly affect the interpretation of both the literal and spiritual sense.  Indeed, one cannot think to understand just what the literal sense means without properly understanding its meaning as the author did. 

The day the sun stood still

Even in considering the author’s intention, it may seem an issue as to whether the author decided to portray events in ways differing from how they actually took place.  The Pontifical Biblical Commission, in Sancta Mater Ecclesia (1964), helps by clarifying the apparent discrepancy which comes from ‘unfaithful’ historical accounts.  If the Gospels, for instance, do not portray the events of Christ’s life in the order which they actually took place (e.g. inconsistencies are often pointed out between the order of events in John and Mark), this would not in any way affect the truth which the Gospels contain.[19]   The Commission explains that each evangelist was occupied with the task of writing for a particular community with a particular culture and with particular emphases to communicate.  The truth of the Gospels is not therefore compromised if one or more of their authors decided to portray the events less as a strict record of events but more in light of their evangelical purposes.[20]  Furthermore, God is not to be forgotten as the one who inspired the writers of scripture to give their account in whatever manner they did.[21]

Does not the text itself then lack truth by not portraying what is taken literally?  As Verbum Domini attests, the Holy Spirit continues to speak through Scripture even in modern contexts.[22]  The spiritual sense of Scripture is, as it were, living and breathing; transcending cultural and temporal limitations in articulating matters of faith, hope, and morals.  The literal sense, upon first inspection, seems to be dead in comparison.  The text signifies an action or event, be it historical or metaphorical, which either was or was not the case at the time of its composition.  Once a text is written, the literal form does not change; i.e. the first ‘layer’ of meaning becomes static.  The text then, as it would seem, either expresses the factual character of the things signified or it does not represent things as they actually are and is thus in error.  It is thus easy to see how, with such an approach, one can be brought to question the inerrancy of Scripture’s literal sense.  This is often a seemingly commonsense way of evaluating the meaning of a text, given the analytical and scientific tendencies of modern thinking, but it does not consider the meaning intended behind the words themselves.

Furthermore, there is meaning intended behind every word in Scripture and as such, nothing written down can be discounted as insignificant.  As words are used to signify events, so also do the events signify even deeper realities which share their meaning with these events.  In the words of St. Paul, “If Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain.”[23]  So too does every truth in Scripture bear significance to the Faith.   God inspired his hagiographers to portray the truth he intended and they must have been aware of this truth insofar as they assented to His inspiration.  Thus, as the authors have recognized the significance of the events they portrayed, we must recognize them in faith.  There is no hope without the Resurrection and there is no Savior without the Incarnation, but less-climatic events also contribute meaning to the Faith.  God made a covenant with the real person Abraham, a real Moses who led Israel out of Egypt, and a real prophecy that foretold the Messiah.  Had not the coinciding events of the Gospels actual taken place and fulfilled those actual events of the Old Testament, what significance can we place on them?  If the reality signified by the written text does not coincide with actual events then what meaning can really be ascribed to it?

This is a point at which the nuances of historical fact, truth, and actual events must be fully expounded upon and understood.  Events as they are portrayed in Scripture have a crucial significance in the history of salvation.  Throughout the Old Testament, for example, God’s plan is revealed over the course of time to His chosen people.  His presence is known throughout history. History, however, is understood today as the record of facts precisely as they happened.  So, when one attempts to read the Old Testament from a modern perspective, there is a temptation to read the literal sense as a record of facts for facts’ sake.  This is perpetuated by a poor understanding of the significance of historical events.

The events portrayed in Scripture are significant insofar as they are expressions of the relationship between God and His people: Creation, the fall, The Tower of Babel, The Deluge, the Covenant with Abraham, the flight from Egypt, and the conquest of the Hebrews are all historical events.  However, whether these events happened as they were written was not necessarily the intended message of the hagiographers.  This is not to say that such events did not take place as they were written.  This is only to say that the proper understanding of the text must be informed by reason and what is known of the author’s purpose and intent as was inspired by the Holy Spirit.

---

[1] Providentissimus Deus, Leo XIII, 20.

[2] ibid.  (Leo XIII expounds this in his encyclical and cites the First Vatican Council, St. Augustine, and St. Gregory the Great)

[3] CCC, 118

[4] Summa Theologiae, I, q. 1, art. 10

[5] Verbum Domini, 37

[6] op. cit. 35

[7] cf. Gn 5.8, Gn 7.23, Js 10.13, Mt 2.16, Mt 27.9

[8] Dei Verbum, 11.

[9] ibid. (emphasis added)

[10] De Gen. ad Litt. II, ix., 20

[11] Providentissimus Deus, 18

[12] op. cit. 15.

[13] op. cit. 20

[14] Spiritus Paraclitus, Benedict XV, 21

[15] op. cit. 22

[16] Divino Afflante Spiritu, Pius XII, 1

[17] Providentissimus Deus, 21

[18] The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church, Pontifical Biblical Commission (1993), II, B. 1

[19] The Instruction on the Historical Truth of the Gospels, Pontifical Biblical Commission (1964), 9

[20] ibid.

[21] ibid.

[22] Verbum Domini, 35.

[23] 1 Corinthians 15.14