(My article in Catholic Insight‘s December issue.)

James Bond is film’s most enduring character. Now in his 22nd official movie, agent 007’s latest celluloid adventure is called Quantum of Solace. The title is borrowed from a heretofore little-known Bond short story by creator Ian Fleming. 

It’s a double entendre: “Quantum” is the nefarious terrorist organization Bond battles in the film. A quantum is also defined as “a share or portion”. Bond is searching for his piece of peace, his own “quantum of solace”, following the events of the last installment, the superior Casino Royale (2006).

Quantum of Solace is an incredibly stylish film, and moves along at a much quicker pace than its predecessor – in fact, it’s the shortest Bond film in history, whereas Casino Royale, directed by Martin Campbell, was the longest. The added time did allow for proper character development. But Quantum‘s director, Marc Forster, had a different vision for his film – he wanted it to be faster – in his words, “like a bullet”.

Royale was a reboot of the series, where we discovered, along with new Bond actor Daniel Craig, how Bond becomes Bond, the British Secret Service agent with the license to kill. He also falls in love with the beauteous Vesper Lynd, who, forced to betray him and overwhelmed by guilt, commits suicide. Quantum picks up the storyline as Bond seeks revenge on those responsible.

At one point in Royale, Bond says to Vesper, “Do what I do for long enough, and there won’t be any soul left to save”. For love of her, he actually resigns from Her Majesty’s Secret Service until Vesper’s death. In Quantum, Bond gets back to the business of spying – and losing his soul – with a vengeance. This occurs in four ways:

Bond is saturated with sex, but never finds True Love. After losing Vesper, Bond (perhaps brokenhearted) reverts to his old, philandering ways in Quantum with fetching fellow agent Strawberry Fields. Her name – and “crude” fate – recalls Bond girls of the ‘60s, one of several nods to early 007 films. Vesper once chided him, “You think of women as disposable pleasures”. Clearly, Bond has not read Humanae Vitae, also from the ‘60s. He has yet to overcome lust, or discover that the self-gift of matrimonial sexual love points toward the Trinity itself – an eternal exchange of love. Only in light of the God who is Love will Bond discover the love he truly desires.

Bond is immersed in intelligence, but never knows Truth. Ethical dilemmas abound in Quantum. The CIA is in bed, so to speak, with the baddies, and so are the Brits. Bond’s boss/den mother, M (Judi Dench) is told by a British official that “If we only did business with good people, we’d have no one left to trade with”. Rene Mathis mentions to Bond that “When one is young, right and wrong are easy. When you’re older, it gets harder to tell”. Perhaps Pilate was thinking the same thing when deciding what to do with Jesus. When he asked Christ, “What is truth?” Truth itself was looking back at him. Today, like us, Bond has to battle more than dictators. He has to deal with what Pope Benedict called “the dictatorship of relativism”.  

Bond is drawn to beauty, but never apprehends the Beautiful. From Tom Ford suits to Aston Martins, from exotic locales to fetching femme fatales, Bond has a taste for the finer things in life. But his keen powers of observation never notice what Fr. Thomas Dubay dubs “the evidential power of beauty” – that beautiful things point to the beautiful God who made them – and him.

Bond is merciless without finding Mercy. The ‘blunt instrument” of the last film is armed with razor-sharp, and lethal, hand-to-hand combat skills, courtesy of the stunt team from the Bourne trilogy. Regrettably, like those films, Quantum suffers from hard-to-follow quick cuts in the action, most of which involves Bond taking full advantage of his license to kill. But Bond, at a key moment, unexpectedly spares an adversary’s life. Why? To prove a point to M, or so he can sleep at night? Perhaps he heeded Mathis’ advice: “Vesper gave everything for you. Forgive her. Forgive yourself”. Has 007 learned mercy? We shall see. But we must learn it – from our divine teacher, Christ, who truly gave everything for us, so we could forgive and be forgiven. As a fictional character, Bond can’t really discover this. Only we can experience Jesus, the Prince of Peace, our true Quantum of Solace.

I was invited to speak at the Humanae Vitae: A Buried Treasure Conference held at the University of Toronto on Saturday, November 15. Despite the dreary weather, approximately 400 people jammed into the Sam Sorbara Auditorium, with over 200 people being turned away, either at the door or by phone, who were looking for tickets! I can’t lie – they certainly weren’t there to see me! 

The other speakers included such luminaries as Ottawa’s Archbishop Terence Prendergrast, our very own Archbishop Thomas Collins, Father Thomas Lynch, Director of Priests for Life Canada, musician Mark Mallett, and Dr. Maria Kraw, who spoke on the medical dangers of contraception. 

The phenomenal crowd was proof that the message of Humanae Vitae is still fresh, even in our day – in fact, it’s needed now more than ever. My topic was the Theology of the Body by Pope John Paul II. Appropriately so, because JPII viewed the TOB as the full flowering of Humanae Vitae.

It really felt like a family event for me – Archbishop Prendergrast was formerly Archbishop of Halifax, where I used to live. Of course, Archbishop Collins is my spiritual father now. Fr. Lynch reconciled me to the Church in ’04, hearing my confession. Dr. Kraw was my wife’s roommate in university. It’s like six degrees of Kevin Bacon!

(Hat tip to Jenny Beraun for the photo of yours truly, preaching up a storm!)

(Here’s my latest article, from Catholic Insight magazine’s November issue.)

November sees two familiar events in the liturgical year for Catholics – All Saints Day (Nov. 1) and All Souls Day (Nov. 2). We pray for the latter, that they might join ranks of the former. That’s because All Souls’ Day is largely about helping the holy souls in purgatory attain the Beatific Vision of heaven.

Lost, a popular ABC television program, was once thought to be about purgatory. The story centres around a plane crash on a mysterious, supernatural island. Many of the survivors attempt to “atone” in some way for past sins. Although this theory about the enigmatic show’s meaning has since been discredited by its creators, it sparked a new interest in the actual reality of purgatory for many. 

But what exactly is purgatory? The Catechism of the Catholic Church says, “All who die in God’s grace and friendship, but still imperfectly purified, are indeed assured of their eternal salvation; but after death they undergo purification, so as to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven” (CCC 1030). One thing it is not is a “second chance” for those condemned to hell after death: “this final purification of the elect . . . is entirely different from the punishment of the damned” (CCC 1031). 

But even the very existence of purgatory, like the strange island of Lost, is highly dubious to many non-Catholics. Protestants view the idea as an unbiblical “invention” of the Catholic Church. Can their objection be sustained?

Many claim that since the word “purgatory” is not found anywhere in Scripture, that is sufficient proof of its non-existence. The word “Trinity” does not appear in Scripture either, but that does not mean that the doctrine is not taught therein. In fact, all  Christians believe that it is, implicitly. The question really is, is the concept of purgatory scriptural?

The Old Testament says this of Judas Maccabeus: “For if  he were not expecting that those who had fallen would rise again, it would have been superfluous and foolish to pray for the dead. But…it was a holy and pious thought. Therefore he made atonement for the dead, that they might be delivered from their sin” (2 Macc. 12:43–45). It is not necessary to pray for those already in heaven. As for people in hell, no amount of prayer can extract them (cf. Luke 16:19-31). There must be an intermediate state where those who are destined for heaven, yet still bound in some sense to sin, can be purified. 

Of course, 2 Maccabees does not appear in the Protestant biblical canon. One of the reasons it was removed from their Bibles is that the very “Catholic” doctrine of praying for the deceased who may be in purgatory is so clearly stated here. At the very least, this pericope highlights the fact that our Jewish forbears believed in such a doctrine. It was not “invented” by later Catholics.

In Matthew 12:32, Jesus himself refers to sin that “will not be forgiven, either in this age or in the age to come”. This implies, along with 2 Maccabees, that the temporal punishment due to sin can be expiated after death. 

Saint Paul writes about one whose work is tested by God in the “Day” of judgment and is found wanting: “he will suffer loss, though he himself will be saved, but only as through fire” (1 Cor 3:15). No one “suffers loss” in heaven – in fact, no one suffers at all there! Yet, this passage cannot refer to hell, either, for salvation does not occur there. This has to do with a purifying state.

The Book of Hebrews is startlingly clear: “Strive…for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord” (Heb. 12:14). If no one will see the Lord unless they are holy, what happens to those not fully sanctified before death? They may be forgiven sinners in a state of grace, but they may not yet have attained the Christian perfection of a Mother Teresa, either. 

God will complete his sanctifying work in his people, even if it occurs after death, in purgatory, making us capable to whistand the Beatific Vision. Consider the words of Revelation: “nothing unclean shall enter” the heavenly city (21:27). God must remove the imperfections in our soul and complete any temporal punishment due to sin (the eternal guilt having been forgiven) for us to dwell in his holy temple. 

Scripture, along with the teaching of the Church, is clear: the one who “invented” purgatory is none other than God himself. He saw to it – so we could one day see him.

I recently came across a very interesting blog by Lee Thomas Dahn. It’s called Most Excellent Theophilus, and astute bibliophiles will recognize the name Theophilus immediately. Theophilus, of course, was the addressee of Luke the Evangelist’s 2-part series, The Gospel According to Luke, and The Acts of the Apostles – both of which became part of the New Testament canon. 

It has become de rigeur in New Testament studies to suggest that Theophilus was a Roman nobleman or official of some sort, who was the patron bankrolling Luke’s evangelistic project. But Dahn suggests otherwise:

Theophilus was the high priest of 37-41CE. This Theophilus was the son of Annas, high priest of 6-15CE. Theophilus was brother to four other first-century high priests: Eleazar, Jonathan, Matthias, and Ananus. His brother-in-law was Caiaphas, high priest of 18-36CE. This family filled the office for 35 years between 6 and 43CE.

If this is the case, this would challenge some cherished assumptions about Luke’s work. Commentators commonly suggest that Luke was writing to a predominantly Gentile audience, being one himself (in fact, the only non-Jewish NT author). But Luke was also well acquainted with the OT, given the artful allusions to it he makes in his Gospel. It is quite possible that Luke’s work, although universal (Catholic) in scope, was of particular interest to his Hebrew audience – especially a certain man who was once High Priest.

This thesis also has great explanatory power. It explains why Luke opens his Gospel not with the Annunciation, but rather with the account of Zechariah the priest, serving in the Temple. It also sheds light on certain accounts from the life of Christ only recorded in Luke (and likely obtained through interviews with Mary herself) – for example, the relating of Jesus’ disappearance in Jerusalem at twelve years old, where he is found debating in the Temple precincts with the teachers of the law.

This incident in particular would have caused quite a sensation in the Holy City, and certainly would not have escaped the notice of Annas, Theophilus’ father, who was High Priest at the time. Theophilus likely would have heard about this from his own father’s lips – and now, Luke mentions it again to buttress his case for Christ, the true, eschatological high priest.

Dahn’s blog features a post about this passage and many others from Luke-Acts, all of them well worth reading. Here’s hoping he continues the project!