His Story and the History of the Church | An Interview with Dr. Glenn W. Olsen, author of "Beginning At Jerusalem"
His Story and the History of the Church | An Interview with Dr. Glenn W. Olsen, author of Beginning At Jerusalem
Dr. Glenn Olsens Beginning
at Jerusalem: Five Reflections on the History of the Church (Ignatius Press, 2004) is
a profound and challenging reflection on the history of the Church and
what Catholics need to learn from the past. Dr. Olsen is Professor of
History at the University of Utah and has a Ph.D. in the history of the Middle Ages.
He has contributed numerous articles to many historical journals, including Communio and Logos,
and is also the author of the book Christian Marriage: A Historical Study
How did this book develop and what criteria did you use in dividing the
history of the Church into five epochs?
Dr. Olsen: The Weathersfield Institute of New York City
asked me to organize and direct fifty lectures on the history of the Church,
to be given in Manhattan ten a year during the last five years of the
second millennium. The Institute divided the history of the Church into
five epochs. The tenth lecture each year was to be a reflection on the
significance of the epoch covered that year. As I say in the Preface to
the book, I decided to give this final lecture each year myself, and these
lectures lie behind my book, Beginning at Jerusalem: Five Reflections
on the History of the Church.
IgnatiusInsight.com: Beginning at Jerusalem addresses
some of the limitations and failures of many contemporary histories of
the Church. What are those limitations and failures? How have they misinformed
or skewed our understanding of the Churchs past?
Dr. Olsen: Following on the growth of belief in progress
during the eighteenth century, most histories, Church or not, have told
a tale of progress. Already in the nineteenth century certain intellectuals
called such a presentation in question, but this seems not to have affected
either very many historians or the general populace. Most histories still
tell some version of a story of the progress of the race, often through
the development of science, democracy, or some not specifically Christian
vehicle. Such a tale seems to me far from the Christian message which,
properly told, is not about success as usually understood at all.
When the Son of Man came to earth, he was killed. The triumph over death
he achieved was rooted in suffering and being misunderstood or betrayed
by those closest to him. Even the greatest historical "successes"
of the Church have not rooted out evil, and every generation has to take
up its cross. We are not at all assured that whatever triumph Christianity
will have will be historical. Indeed, one of the most poignant moments
in Scripture is when the query is made whether when Christ returns he
will find anyone faithful.
Any thoughtful person understands that history is not progressive in the
way that the thinkers of the Enlightenment thought. It is always lived
in the shadows, that is, without enough light to come close to understanding
ones own time. We live in a mystery. Most people in fact are probably
double-minded as to whether any general form of progress occurs. If something
specific is asked, perhaps whether children are becoming better, youths
more learned, public spaces more beautiful, or the world safer they will
express their doubts and reservations. And yet from their earliest days
they have imbibed the notion that mankind progresses, and they will in
their unthinking moments assume or fall back on this idea.
It seems to me that history is not about success or failure in any pure
sense. All historical successes breed failure, are mixed, and often what
seems failure is preparation for heroic exertion. Christians are not asked
to succeed, but to be faithful. Certainly Christianity does not aim intentionally
at failure, but the thoughtful Christian understands that there are more
important things than prospering in this world.
Thus the perky and optimistic narratives that tell Church history, especially
American Church history, are as superficial as the telling of the national
tale itself has been. They often imply that we are the lords of history,
that is that first we plan, then we work, and then we succeed. They have
little sense that God is the Lord of history, and that often we plan and
work, and then things turn out in completely unsuspected ways. To use
the technical terms, most contemporary history, religious or not, is written
according to rational and teleological categories. This latter means that,
the historian knowing how things turned out, the story is written to make
this conclusion inevitable. But the participants in events never know
how things will turn out, are in the dark. A history that does not convey
human anxiety and uncertainty tells a lie about what it is to be human.
In sum, what we need are more histories which actually portray humans
as the Christian tradition says they are, saints and sinners, wanting
good and doing evil, always more or less in the dark.
It is almost a terrible joke to take up the last part of your question,
about how people are misinformed about the Churchs past. Virtually
every time I hear someone begin to speak about Crusade or Inquisition
I will hear nonsense, and rare is intelligent presentation of even recent
subjects, say the pontificate of Pius XII. I hardly ever come on someone
historically well informed. I hasten to add that I will be eternally grateful
for a certain nun who insisted my children learn Church history well,
and for a layman who made them rattle off the main decisions of the Fourth
Lateran Council. But by and large I find most Catholics carry around with
them notions of Church history formed by those same historians who place
Enlightenment at the center of their narratives. I am surprised and gratified
when, having heard from such sources all their lives how much Catholicism
has allegedly worked hand-in-glove with the forces of unreason and darkness,
they still believe at all.
To come to a conclusion, our history-writing needs to be done by those
alert to the theological virtues of faith, hope, and love, not those who
assume the secularized categories of progress and optimism. It has at
least to be in part about people who were faithful, not about people who
"had a good attitude" or were self-confident. In sum, it must
be open to the presence of both sanctity and the demonic in time.
IgnatiusInsight.com: Early in the book you write, "There
is a sense in which loss of the past is a precondition for its reappropriation"
(p 14). Will you explain that a bit and provide an example of what you
Dr. Olsen: Often something is so familiar to us that we
do not even notice it. We all have observed children taking for granted
something that we ourselves did not have as children. More to the point,
we probably at some time in our lives have experienced the loss or departure
of someone we only fully appreciated when he was gone. We have the expression
"I needed distance to understand that." So with the past in
general. Sometimes we only notice how central and important or beautiful
something was when we have experienced its loss.
To use the liturgy as an example, a person might be discontent or unsatisfied
with so-called guitar masses. But for this to be so, it is likely that
he would have had to experience some alternative, perhaps some more traditional
solemn high Mass. This might set him to wondering about the history of
the respective masses, guitar and high. Perhaps he would discover that
the one is of relatively recent vintage, the other quite old. Implicitly,
the one already for him suffers by comparison with the other, and this
might lead him in quest of recovery or reappropriation of that which had
faded from sight.
Such a phenomenon is going on all the time now. In my own parish, after
a period of relative indifference in such matters, a new priest took it
upon himself to restore the ancient musical traditions of the Church.
Now, more than a decade later, we have our own Choir School singing the
complete musical heritage of the Church, from chant to the most difficult
of contemporary composers. The Society for Catholic Liturgy and Adoremus
have been founded to spread this whole musical heritage, and now one can
study such things at premier institutions, the University of Toronto,
Yale, or Stanford.
IgnatiusInsight.com: Writing about late ancient and early medieval
Christianity, you look at developments that are "unknown, neglected,
or looked upon with condescension by most modern people, Christian or
not" and state that they should continue to "speak to us."
What are some of those developments and how should they speak to us?
Dr. Olsen: To continue with the liturgy, the implementation
of Vatican II in our country often neglected old elements of Christianity
in favor of the newest ideas. It probably is true that most Catholic children
formed in the last long generation know little Church history, little
doctrine, and not much about things like the cult of the saints or, except
in frivolous ways, angels. And it is probably fair to say that one of
the reasons the children - now adults - do not know these things is because
someone scorned them.
Perhaps a nun said, "we dont believe that any longer."
(early in a tour of Italy while taking a group of high school students
from an Episcopal school through St. Peters on a Saturday in Rome
along with another group of Catholic-school students chaperoned by nuns,
my wife with everyone else was asked by the guide, "who would need
time left in the Sunday tour schedule to go to Mass?" Only my wife
put up her hand, the nuns replying "We are on vacation.") It
seems to me that humans were created to a certain orientation in the world
in which they would "find themselves" in relation to God, the
cosmos, and their fellow human beings. They are made at once to worship
the source of their being, and to love and build up their neighbors. These
things can be done in the most individualistic of societies, but it seems
helpful for people to see themselves as part of some larger enterprise,
in this case a whole creation made to hymn God. In our society most people
have lost this sense of "what they are here for."
It seems to me that such ancient practices and realities as the cult of
the saints, the communion of saints, and angelology were ways of showing
the individual that he is part of something much larger, a whole creation
coming from and oriented toward God. The cult of the saints tells us how
various people have worked out a mission in their lives, suggesting thereby
how we might live our lives. The communion of saints reminds us that we
are not alone, but part of a larger body intended as the field of our
love. The angels give us the premier example of worship.
IgnatiusInsight.com: The chapter on high medieval Christianity
has a section on the debate over when and how the nature of the Church-State
relationship changed. What is that debate about and why is so important?
What can twenty-first century Catholics learn from it?
Dr. Olsen: Church-state relationships have constantly been
evolving from the beginning, but there was a particular watershed in the
eleventh century. Loosely speaking, until the time of Constantine in the
fourth century, Christianity had been an illegal or proscribed religion,
while from the time of Constantine it had been first made legal, and then
the official religion of the Roman Empire. The Christian emperors, and
then the various Germanic kings who followed them, tended to continue
age-old beliefs that the emperor (or king) ruled in the name of God, was
in some sense a vicar of God.
We might speak of this as theocratic rule, generally rule by a layman
claiming to be chosen by God and responsible before Him for all his people.
Generally this system prevailed until the eleventh century, and it implied
a notion of society that was relatively undifferentiated, that did not
divide society into very many separate spheres. Churchmen were thought
of as in charge of the sacraments, but it was the emperor or king who
was in charge of society as a whole, including churchmen. This view began
to be seriously challenged by various ecclesiastical reformers in the
eleventh century, and the result was a growing awareness of the Church
as something not immediately identifiable with the state or with society,
as in some sense a distinctive entity with its own life.
The basic reasoning of the eleventh-century reformers, that kings or secular
governments are placed on earth to obtain the natural goods of humankind,
peace, justice, etc., and that priests or the Church are on earth to lead
men to heaven seems to me correct. Also correct is the observation that
between the two offices, the role of priest is more important because
eternal life is more important than temporal life. From this it follows
that it may be that if a king seriously abuses his office, kills people
for instance unjustly, the higher office of priest may intervene and try
to discipline the secular office, or at least stop its unjust action.
Implicit in the eleventh-century view, but also worked out over the following
centuries, was the idea that within a Christian society the role of king
and priest were to be differentiated. That is, there are things proper
to the state, such as warfare, with which the Church should not interfere
unless justice is being violated; and things proper to the Church, such
as the nature of the liturgy, which should not be interfered with by the
state. Modern scholars of the middle ages have sometimes used the term
"dualism" to describe such a politics. Commonly it was thought
that an ideal situation would be one in which secular rulers did what
they existed for, and were supported in this by the Church; and the Church
did what it existed for, and was supported by the state.
Notice, this is quite far from the modern "separation of Church and
state." It is more a harmony or cooperation of Church and state.
There are some American Catholic writers who hold that the American way
of dealing with Church and state is superior to anything in the European
Catholic tradition. This seems to me mistaken. I do not of course think
that we can go back to a time of emperors and priests, that we can stop
being a democracy, but simply as an idea, the medieval view seems superior
to me than ours.
Above all the ideal should be cooperation of Church and state. To take
just one example, religion itself has both natural and supernatural dimensions.
That is, it seems to me that religion per se, not some specific form of
religion as Catholicism but religion per se, is natural to man. Man by
nature is a religious being. It follows from this that the state, because
it exists to foster the natural, has an obligation not to separate itself
from religion, but to encourage religion.
Of course in a pluralistic society such as ours, there would be a lot
of devil in the details of working out the implications of such a view,
but my point is that the first instinct of the state should be to be supportive
of religion in general, not to try to sever all relations with it.
IgnatiusInsight.com: You write, "Our times are becoming
increasingly timeless in the sense that so few now have a knowledge of
history that most lack a clear sense of where they or their civilization
stand in history; they belong to no story or history" (p 99). Practically
speaking, how can the average person best acquire a decent education in
history? On a more speculative level, how does this lack of knowledge
affect individuals and societies?
Dr. Olsen: I suppose the best way would be as a student
to go to one of the few liberal arts colleges which still require a systematic
study of history as part of their core requirements. Unfortunately, as
Christopher Dawson long ago observed, the American Catholic educational
system hardly ever was good at teaching history or more generally, at
teaching what Dawson called "Christian culture."
Before Vatican II, American Catholic colleges tended
to give philosophy a privileged place in the curriculum. After Vatican
II, they tended to jettison this, especially in its Thomistic form, and
to adopt the smorgasbord style of study of virtually all American universities,
which tended to mandate no particular content of learning. Even the more
counter-cultural Catholic schools which sprang up after Vatican II either
turned to a Great Books format, or returned to an emphasis on philosophy
in the curriculum. I am not opposed to either of these approaches, but
neither of them had been strong in the teaching of history. So, an honest
answer to your question would have to begin with the admission that it
is very difficult to get what I think a proper education in history at
almost any American school.
This means that some form of self-instruction is necessary. I can not
of course here make up a long list of all the books a person should know,
but, according to circumstance, there are various things that can be done.
The journals Communio: International Catholic Review and
First Things sponsor study groups across the country. These are
listed either periodically, or at the end of each issue, and one might
see if one exists in ones area. Likely in the study group will be
someone who could make suggestions as to a reading program.
For myself, I would suggest that a person begin with some standard work
of Greek history, either of the older generation (books by M. Rostovtzeff
or W, Jaeger for instance), or something more recent, perhaps Peter Greens
Ancient Greece: A Concise History, and systematically work through
the history of the West. So much depends on the person, however. A high
school Advanced Placement history teacher of my acquaintance tells me
he has had to stop using one of the best textbooks every written, Robert
Palmer and Joel Colton, A History of the Modern World, because
the students entering his class no longer have the vocabulary to understand
the book. In such a situation, I have some sympathy for what may seem
an irresponsible answer, just reading in no particular order whatever
history appeals to a person.
One could go on till doomsday about how ignorance of history affects individuals
and societies. One of the most obvious is that one tends to get into the
wrong wars, starting wars one never would have had one known ones
geography and history; and failing to take seriously other threats that
might have needed armed response.
In the fourth chapter, on the church in the world from the Renaissance
to the Enlightenment, you write about the tension man experiences between
"two irreducible orientations": the vertical, or eschatological,
and the horizontal, or incarnational. What are those orientations and
what people should know about them?
Dr. Olsen: We are oriented to God, vertically, and to the
world around us, horizontally. These orientations were meant to be complementary,
but often are in conflict. Sometimes we despair of the world and are tempted
to throw up our hands and pursue some form of "flight to the desert."
We want earths sufferings and frustrations to be done with and some
form of eschatological rest. Then again we find the world so interesting
and full of things to do that we forget God.
By saying that our orientations to God and the world were meant to be
complementary, I mean something Ignatian, but also something prominent
in the section on Prayer (IV) of the Catechism of the Catholic Church.
This is that every day, and our life as a whole, is to be composed of
a rhythm in which each day we orient the day by prayer, and then proceed
"into the world" to live for the glory of God. Periodically,
we stand apart from the world for a longer time in a retreat to get a
fuller perspective on the form our life is taking. Here I stand with Augustine
and Aquinas in thinking that the fullest form of Christian perfection
is not a life wholly of the desert, but a life in which we go apart with
God precisely to return and build up the body of Christ in charity.
IgnatiusInsight.com: "Modernity" and "post-modernity"
are often understood and presented negatively by Christians, but is that
a fair or correct treatment of those concepts/realities?
Dr. Olsen: These words have no fixed meaning, and can pretty
much be assigned whatever meaning one wants, positive or negative. "Modernity"
used to have two primary meanings, one essentially neutral, indicating
that something was of the present (the word modernus already means that
in medieval Latin), and one either positive or negative according to ones
own estimate, namely, something that presents a break with and rejection
of the past. One of the meanings of "modernism" in art from
about 1900 is "something that breaks with past artistic tradition."
Whether one judges this a good or bad thing depends on ones point
"Post-modernity" often is a catch-word to express the assault
during the last generation, common in the academic world, on the values
of the previous period, now denominated "modern." The "modern"
here signifies a now ending age characterized by trust in the so-called
scientific method and the supposed fact and benificence of scientific
advance; belief in objectivity and reason; and a correlative belief that
truth is universal in the sense that, for instance, ideas like human rights
and democracy have universal application. Post-modernity often calls all
these beliefs of the modern period in question, and is characterized by
a deep relativism. Rather than seeing the "modern" as good,
it sees it as simply one more arbitrary set of beliefs.
Obviously, with so many incompatible definitions floating around, it is
impossible to say that one should speak in general of either the modern
or the post-modern as good or bad. I would make one historical observation
however, and that is that for the average man on the street, the modern
understood as faith in things like science, reason, and progress is not
at all dead. As I indicated in an earlier answer, I wish some parts of
it, such as the belief in progress, was dead, but they are not. That I
wish that parts of the modern were dead means that I have sympathy for
parts of the post-modern.
As I have intimated, I think the overconfidence in reason that has led
historians to pretend that they can write purely objective histories deserved
to die, and I am comfortable with certain forms of relativism such as
recognizing that all history is always written from some limited point
So my position is that it makes no sense to speak of either modernity
or post-modernity as things that can be either generally approved or generally
I deplore certain forms of artistic modernity, for
instance, but like very much the recovery of an abstract mode of presentation
that we find in a good deal of modern art. Religious people sometimes
assume that all good art is mimetic, that is, imitates - or should imitate
- something in nature. But some of the greatest religious art has always
been non-representational. The figures in icons do not look very much
like actual human beings, but are a reduction of the human figure to what
is essential in him as a creature defined by relation to the Creator.
In one of the periods I myself study, the Romanesque, the figures in most
art are in one way or another distorted to emphasize some truth or another,
or so whimsically presented as on first take not to seem human at all.
So I am not going to be against "modern art" in general, but
against any modernism which begins with the premise that all that has
gone before is bad.
Think of the music of John Tavener. Tavener hates twelve-tone music and
all the pretentiousness of various composers who in the early twentieth
century rejected the conventions of the whole Western tradition of music.
But in returning to the conventions of the Orthodox liturgy, and also
going outside the Western tradition to incorporate various Eastern musics,
he ended with a music almost cosmic in its conventions, beautiful but
like no music that had ever been composed anywhere.
IgnatiusInsight.com: A consistent theme in the book is the role
and meaning of liturgy. How is liturgy most misunderstood or misused today,
and what can we learn from Church history that will help correct contemporary
problems with the liturgy?
Dr. Olsen: The liturgy is most misused by trying to use
it to teach about God, rather than to worship God. Obviously teaching
about God is not a bad thing, and there is a place for it the homily,
but the primary function of liturgy is to unite with the cosmos in praise
of the Creator. The liturgy has been bent to didactic or teaching purposes
for many reasons. One of the most powerful of these in America is the
larger, vaguely Protestant, environment. From its beginning Protestantism
tended to redefine Christianity around moral categories, taking religion
itself to be about making people good. In some of the forms of Protestantism
most prominent in American history, liturgy was "made plain."
Many Catholics have come to accept what is essentially a Protestant view,
that the reason for being a Christian is to become good, and the reason
for going to Church is to be taught how to do so. Hence they are comfortable
with a certain hectoring that often has accompanied the Catholic liturgy
in America since the II Vatican Council. I think here particularly of
the instructions given to lectors, in which in essence they tell the people
what the Scripture they are about to read says. I would prefer that the
Scripture announce itself.
There are other reasons why the purposes of the liturgy have become distorted.
As part of the general dumbing down of education and high culture since
the 1960s,almost any solemn form of expression has hard going these days.
My working class father had a much greater sense of the dignity of his
body than do my students. He tipped his hat to women, and stood erect
in conversation. They wear caps indoors, and lean on things when they
talk. In such a culture it is going to be difficult for people to think
of their bodies as things that signal their souls, to think of their bodies
(as well their souls) as things that pray. Further, the whole heritage
of liturgical music may be less open to them because at home pop music
was always heard, and they have little exposure to classical music. One
big marker in my own life was the day when each of my children went out
and unbidden bought their first Mozart CD, just because they wanted to.
All this said, being a member of the Cathedral of the Madeleine in Salt
Lake City has been a revelation. I knew with my head that a solemn liturgy
was not dependent on education or culture - witness the wonderful liturgies
of the Orthodox world, often found in very elite cultures in which the
mass of people are hardly literate - but we naturally tend to associate
appreciation of the liturgy with appreciation of high culture. Conversely,
"guitar masses" are seen as what people without much education,
college students or members of Communion and Liberation, like.
Anyway, the pastors at the Cathedral of the Madeleine
have made a point that the liturgy is addressed to no specific social
class or ethnic group, and have simply presented the entire liturgical
tradition of the Church as something intrinsically attractive because
signaling Gods nature and how we stand in relation to him. Now,
admittedly, a lot of work has been put into this. In a typical mass, the
choir may traverse everything from chant to living composers. But the
congregation is a "little United Nations," composed of dozens
of ethnic groups and everything from homeless to rather wealthy people.
Probably what we can learn most from history here is the history of worship.
Most of my students come into my Church history classes at the University
without awareness of such things as that ancient prayer was largely about
God, modern prayer largely about ourselves. When I read them ancient prayers
or hymns, they can see that they are generally praising God; when I read
them modern prayers, they can see that they are generally testimonies
about something that has happened to themselves. But before they joined
this class, they did not even have a sense of how our civilization passed
from "objective" to "subjective" categories. By making
them aware of such things, and showing them that religion can be about
much more than just moral categories, new worlds open to them. They are
ready to consider such proposals as that what makes us Godlike is participation
in the liturgy.
IgnatiusInsight.com: You explain that Catholics have three basic
approaches they can embrace in engaging with their historical situation:
reject all accommodation to the world, accept accommodation to the world,
or they can be "in the world, but not of the world." What does
that third option mean and how has Pope John II articulated it in his
Dr. Olsen: The third option means that we can at one and
the same time live an active life in the world while oriented to God in
prayer. In an earlier answer I noted the specifically Ignatian way of
doing this, seeing prayer and the sacraments as food and reflection for
finding our way in the world. Most of us will have a rhythm of life in
which times of silence link us to times of productivity.
But the third option also refers to a certain attitude which understands
that while we were made to enjoy the world and live as co-creators with
God in it, finally everything worldly has only a relative value. We are
to understand that we are not to become overly attached to anything less
To be in but not of the world means to live in hope. This is as central
a theme to John Paul IIs pontificate as any. We are to address each
situation under the assumption that something good may come of it, and
that God is at work in it. Since in this world good and evil are always
present and intertwined, our goal is discernment, neither accepting nor
rejecting the world as it is, but trying to discover how it may be used
to the glory of God.
IgnatiusInsight.com: The second appendix is titled "Prayer
as Covenant Drama in the Catechism of the Catholic Church." What
does it mean to say that prayer is "covenant drama"?
Dr. Olsen: It means many things, but I would like to stress
just one that develops an earlier answer. Above I expressed my reservations
about the idea of progress. Implicit in that response was the idea that
progress must have replaced an earlier idea better than progress, that
should be recovered.
I take the Catechism of the Catholic Church and my second appendix
to be talking about this earlier idea under the heading "covenant
drama." The earlier idea was not intrinsically progressive, understood
as meaning that things are generally getting better. It was that human
history is centered on a covenant made between God and the Jews that with
Christ has been explicitly extended to all mankind. This Covenant promises
that God will be faithful to us, and asks us to be faithful to him. It
assures us that God is doing something with history, making a tapestry
that we can not yet read the meaning of.
Hence the addition of the word "drama"
to "covenant." History has more the shape of drama than of progress.
To speak of prayer as covenant drama means to think of our lives in a
way analogous to history itself. God has created each of us for a unique
mission and this is discerned and developed through prayer. We are "players"
and God is the "author" of the play, and we dialogue with him
about the nature of and how to play our role through prayer.
IgnatiusInsight.com: Beginning at Jerusalem has a strong
"Balthasarian" flavor and tone to it. What influence has the
work of the great theologian, Hans Urs von Balthasar, had upon your thought
and this particular book?
Dr. Olsen: I am interested in and write about many things.
Some are rather technical, and less display my larger interests. But this
particular book manifests as much as anything my long-standing interest
in Balthasar. I would have to describe myself as an amateur in things
Balthasarian, because I have to spend most of my time reading and writing
But I have been privileged for many years to have been in contact with
various projects related to Balthasar. I have been connected to the principal
Balthasarian journal in the United States from virtually the beginning,
Communio: International Catholic Review. For three years I was
able to participate in a week of studies each summer led by people associated
with this journal, and when Balthasar visited Washington, D. C. and Catholic
University for a conference on his thought, I was able to participate
in that. I suppose we quarrel with every writer we read, but Balthasar
has more influenced my view of the world than any single thinker. I think
his central idea that theology of recent centuries has neglected the category
of the beautiful, and has not seen the radical way in which the life of
Jesus Christ redefined beauty, is of crucial importance.
[This interview was originally posted on IgnatiusInsight.com in September 2004.]
Related IgnatiusInsight.com Links:
Are We At The End or The Beginning? |
Glenn W. Olsen
Author Page for Hans Urs von Balthasar
The Tale of Trent: A Council and and Its Legacy |
Introduction to Church and State in Early Christianity |
Hugo Rahner, S.J.
Crusade Myths | Thomas F. Madden
The Jesuits and the Iroquois | Cornelius Michael Buckley, S.J.
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