Thursday, November 6, 2025

The Catholic Church and the Orthodox Churches

 


The Catholic Church and the Orthodox Churches:

A Shared Faith Divided by History

By Chris M. Forte

When people hear “Orthodox Church,” they often imagine incense-filled temples, icon-covered walls, and long bearded priests chanting in Greek or Slavonic. Yet behind those images lies something far more profound: a Church that has preserved apostolic succession, valid sacraments, and the faith of the first centuries with an integrity few Protestants can comprehend.

As a Catholic, I don’t see the Orthodox as “separated brethren” in the same sense as Protestants. They are family — estranged perhaps, but still family. And the Catholic Church, in her official teaching, agrees.


1. What the Catholic Church Officially Teaches

The Second Vatican Council spoke clearly on this relationship in Unitatis Redintegratio (1964), the Decree on Ecumenism:

“The Churches of the East possess true sacraments, above all, by apostolic succession, the priesthood and the Eucharist, whereby they are linked with us in closest intimacy.” — UR §15

That’s extraordinary language. The Catholic Church recognizes the Orthodox Churches as true Churches, not mere “ecclesial communities.” They have:

  • A valid Eucharist (the real Body and Blood of Christ).

  • Valid Holy Orders and apostolic succession.

  • The same seven sacraments instituted by Christ.

The Catechism echoes this teaching:

“These Churches, although separated from us, possess true sacraments, above all by apostolic succession, the priesthood and the Eucharist, whereby they are still joined to us in closest intimacy.” — CCC §838

By contrast, most Protestant communities are described as lacking apostolic succession and therefore lacking the full sacramental life of the Church. So, when Catholics speak of “the Orthodox,” we’re not talking about outsiders; we’re talking about brothers and sisters who share our roots but live across a family divide.


2. The Eastern Orthodox and the Oriental Orthodox

It’s important to distinguish between the two major groups commonly called “Orthodox.”

2.1 The Eastern Orthodox Churches

These are the Churches that broke communion with Rome in 1054, the year of the Great Schism — the Patriarchates of Constantinople, Alexandria, Antioch, and Jerusalem, along with their national churches (Greek, Russian, Serbian, Bulgarian, etc.). They all accept the first seven ecumenical councils.

2.2 The Oriental Orthodox Churches

These include the Coptic, Armenian, Syriac, Ethiopian, and Malankara (Indian) Orthodox Churches. They separated much earlier, in the 5th century, after the Council of Chalcedon (451 AD) due to disagreements over how Christ’s divine and human natures were defined.

While doctrinally distinct, the Catholic Church recognizes both groups as ancient, apostolic, and sacramental. Orientalium Ecclesiarum (1964), the Vatican II decree on Eastern Churches, states:

“These individual Churches, whether of the East or of the West, although they differ somewhat among themselves in rite, maintain a remarkable unity in faith and sacramental life.” — OE §2

In other words: they’re different in expression, not in essence.


3. Why Communion Broke — and Why It Still Matters

The division wasn’t caused by one single event or doctrine. It was a centuries-long process fueled by politics, language, and wounded pride. Issues like papal primacy, the Filioque clause in the Creed, and the authority of councils became flashpoints, but underneath it all lay competing visions of what the Church should look like.

  • The Catholic vision developed around a universal communion under one bishop — the Bishop of Rome — as visible head and guarantor of unity.

  • The Orthodox vision preserved the ancient model of conciliarity — local Churches governed by their bishops, with patriarchs acting as first among equals.

Vatican II summarized the Catholic position beautifully:

“The Roman Pontiff, as the successor of Peter, is the perpetual and visible source and foundation of unity.” — Lumen Gentium §23

The Orthodox honor the Bishop of Rome as primus inter pares (“first among equals”) but reject the claim of universal jurisdiction. Ironically, even their rejection acknowledges a kind of primacy; they just limit it to honor, not authority.


4. My Perspective: Unity with Diversity

Personally, I consider the Orthodox Churches to be just as legitimate as the Catholic Church in apostolic origin, sacramental grace, and fidelity to tradition. When someone tells me they’ve joined the Greek or Russian Orthodox Church, I don’t feel disappointment — I feel relief. At least they’re anchored in apostolic Christianity. That’s infinitely better than drifting into the cafeteria chaos of modern Protestantism.

But I also see what’s missing.

The Orthodox world is profoundly regionalized: Greek Orthodox, Russian Orthodox, Romanian Orthodox, etc. Each Church is deeply tied to its culture, language, and politics. That can be beautiful — but also limiting. The Catholic Church, by contrast, is universal. Its very name means “according to the whole.” Whether you’re in Manila, Madrid, or Mumbai, the Mass is the same sacrifice, the same Church. Catholicism transcends nation and ethnicity; Orthodoxy often doesn’t.


5. Authority Without a Center

This regional structure creates another problem: authority.

In theory, the Orthodox Church governs by council and consensus. In practice, that means each autocephalous Church can excommunicate another, recognize or reject a council, and interpret tradition differently — and there’s no central authority to settle disputes.

Take the recent rift between the Moscow Patriarchate and the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople over Ukraine’s autocephaly (2019). One declared the new Ukrainian Church legitimate; the other called it schismatic. Both claim to speak for Orthodoxy.

Without a single arbiter like the Pope, division festers quietly. The Catholic Church isn’t immune to conflict, but at least it has a referee.

Even Pope Benedict XVI once remarked:

“The lack of a single voice in Orthodoxy prevents the world from hearing one unified testimony of the Christian East.” — Address to the Patriarch of Constantinople, 2006


6. The Unspoken Sign of Hope

What I find fascinating is that, even after a thousand years of separation, no Orthodox Church has ever appointed its own “Patriarch of Rome” or “Patriarch of the West.”

They’ve created Patriarchs for Antioch, Alexandria, Moscow, Jerusalem — but not for Rome. Why?

Because deep down, they know Rome isn’t just another diocese. The title “First Among Equals” still carries weight. Even in rejecting papal supremacy, they haven’t replaced the Pope with anyone else. The chair of Peter remains symbolically empty, waiting to be filled again in unity.

That, to me, speaks volumes. It shows that somewhere in the Orthodox heart still beats the memory of that early, undivided Church where East and West shared one faith and one cup.


7. The Catholic Vision of Reunion



The Catholic Church does not demand submission — it invites reunion. Pope John Paul II famously said:

“The Church must breathe with her two lungs — of the East and of the West.” — Ut Unum Sint (1995), §54

Reunion would not mean the Orthodox becoming “Romanized.” The Church has repeatedly affirmed that Eastern rites, liturgies, and traditions are not only valid but treasures to be preserved. Orientalium Ecclesiarum §6 explicitly calls them “equal in dignity.”

What reunion would restore is the one thing Orthodoxy lacks: visible unity under one shepherd, the same unity Christ prayed for in John 17:

“That they may be one, as You, Father, are in Me and I in You.”


8. Conclusion: Two Halves of a Broken Whole

The Catholic and Orthodox Churches are like two siblings who resemble their parents so closely that outsiders can hardly tell them apart — yet they refuse to sit at the same table.

Still, the door is open. The Catholic Church recognizes the Orthodox sacraments, invites their faithful to communion in cases of necessity, and prays daily for reunion. The differences are real, but so is the shared faith.

From my perspective, the Orthodox Churches are the closest thing on earth to Catholicism — and in many ways, still part of it mystically. They carry the ancient fire; we carry the universal light. And one day, I believe, both flames will burn as one again.

“That they all may be one… so that the world may believe.” — John 17:21


Selected References (Chicago Style)

  1. Unitatis Redintegratio, Vatican II, 1964.

  2. Orientalium Ecclesiarum, Vatican II, 1964.

  3. Lumen Gentium, Vatican II, 1964.

  4. Catechism of the Catholic Church §§836-838.

  5. John Paul II, Ut Unum Sint, 1995.

  6. Benedict XVI, Address to the Ecumenical Patriarch (Nov 30, 2006).

  7. Joseph Ratzinger, Principles of Catholic Theology (San Francisco: Ignatius, 1987).

Wednesday, November 5, 2025

Jesus and the “Pantera” Conspiracy: How an Ancient Smear Became a Modern Myth

 


Jesus and the “Pantera” Conspiracy: How an Ancient Smear Became a Modern Myth

By Chris M. Forte

Every few years, someone digs up the same tired rumor: “Jesus wasn’t the Son of God — He was the son of a Roman soldier named Pantera.”

It gets repackaged by pseudo-historians, online skeptics, and sensational TV specials that promise to “reveal the truth” about Christianity. Yet this “truth” has all the scholarly rigor of an episode of Ancient Aliens.

So let’s talk about it — because the idea that Mary was raped or cheated on Joseph with a Roman soldier isn’t new, and it’s not evidence. It’s ancient anti-Christian propaganda — what I’d call one of the earliest “tin-foil hat conspiracy theories” in human history.


1. The Origin of the Pantera Story

The story of “Pantera” doesn’t appear until long after the time of Jesus. No Gospel, no apostolic letter, no early Christian or Jewish historian mentions it. It shows up only in the 2nd century — the ancient equivalent of a Twitter rumor — from a pagan philosopher named Celsus, who seemed to think he’d “fact-checked” the Virgin Birth.

Celsus, a critic of Christianity writing around A.D. 175, claimed that Jesus was the illegitimate child of a Roman soldier named Panthera (or Pandera), and that Mary had been “convicted of adultery.” He also claimed Jesus learned magic in Egypt — because apparently the only way he could explain miracles was by turning them into sorcery.

We know this because Origen, the great 3rd-century Christian theologian, quoted and then destroyed Celsus’ argument in his classic rebuttal Contra Celsum:

“Celsus invented the story that the Virgin was driven out by her husband the carpenter, being convicted of adultery with a soldier named Panthera.” (Contra Celsum 1.28)

That’s the first known mention of Pantera. Not in the Bible. Not in a Roman record. Not in Josephus or Tacitus. But in a hit piece written two centuries later.

And like every good rumor, it stuck.

Later Jewish texts (especially parts of the Talmud, compiled between the 3rd and 6th centuries) mock Jesus as “Yeshu ben Pandera” — “Jesus, son of Pandera.” Scholars, Jewish and Christian alike, agree these were polemical jabs, not historical reports. They were intended to mock the Christian claim of the Virgin Birth by twisting it into something scandalous.

In short, this wasn’t history. It was ancient trolling.


2. Who Was Pantera, Supposedly?

Here’s where things get weirder. Archaeologists have actually found a Roman soldier’s tombstone with the name “Tiberius Julius Abdes Pantera,” discovered in Bingerbrück, Germany, in 1859. He was a Syrian archer who served in the Roman army for 40 years and died at age 62.

Cue the internet conspiracy crowd: “Aha! A soldier named Pantera! That must be him — Jesus’ real father!”

Except… no.

There’s no evidence this soldier ever set foot in Judea. His gravestone dates from the late first century, decades after Jesus’ birth. And “Pantera” wasn’t unique — it was a common Roman name, found on multiple inscriptions across the empire.

As scholar Raymond E. Brown, one of the world’s leading experts on the Gospels, wrote:

“There is no historical evidence linking any Roman soldier named Pantera with Jesus or Mary. The story is a polemical fiction intended to mock the Christian claim of virginal conception.”
The Birth of the Messiah (1993), p. 535

Even the Jewish historian Geza Vermes, who wasn’t Christian and had no reason to defend the Virgin Birth, concluded:

“The name ‘Panthera’ was clearly a deliberate pun on the Greek parthenos (virgin).” — Jesus the Jew (1973)

In other words, it was an insult. A sarcastic way of calling Jesus “the son of the Virgin.”


3. Enter the Modern Myth-Makers

The “Pantera” theory was revived by a few modern authors who love conspiracies more than context. Some claim Pantera was the Roman soldier Jesus meets in the Gospels — the centurion whose servant He heals in Matthew 8. Others claim Pantera was part of Jesus’ “real family,” suggesting Mary was seduced or assaulted by a Roman stationed in Galilee.

But this is historical fiction, not evidence.

No ancient text connects the centurion or any Roman soldier in the Gospels to the Pantera story. None. The centurion at Capernaum isn’t even named. The Gospels make no hint of illegitimacy — and the early Christian community, which included Jesus’ relatives (James, Jude, and others), would not have based their faith on a family scandal they all supposedly knew.

Even Bart Ehrman, a secular historian who questions most Christian doctrines, rejects the Pantera myth outright:

“The claim that Jesus’ father was a Roman soldier named Pantera… comes from a late anti-Christian source, with no independent historical corroboration.” — Did Jesus Exist? (2012)

The only people still clinging to the Pantera story today are the same folks who think the Vatican hides alien skeletons under St. Peter’s Basilica.


4. Why This Accusation Was Made

The “Pantera” smear wasn’t about discovering truth — it was about discrediting faith.

In the ancient world, miraculous births were common literary motifs. Pagan critics like Celsus mocked the idea of divine conception because it threatened their worldview. By turning the Virgin Birth into a scandal, they could attack both Mary’s virtue and Jesus’ divinity in one blow.

As historian Amy-Jill Levine puts it:

“The charge of illegitimacy was the easiest way to counter the Christian claim of divine sonship.” — The Misunderstood Jew (2006)

It’s not that Celsus believed Mary was literally caught with a Roman soldier; it’s that he didn’t believe in miracles. His “Pantera” story was the ancient equivalent of saying, “We all know how babies are made — stop being gullible.”

But the Christian story doesn’t ask us to deny biology — it asks us to believe God can work through it. That’s the real scandal of the Incarnation: the divine entering the natural, the eternal entering the womb of time.


5. What About Jesus’ “Brothers”?

Some skeptics try to link the “family of Jesus” to the Pantera story. They argue that references to Jesus’ “brothers” (James, Joses, Judas, and Simon — Mark 6:3) hint at a family embarrassed by illegitimacy.

But again, this is reading modern gossip into ancient texts. The Church Fathers, along with linguistic scholars, explain these “brothers” as close relatives or cousins — consistent with Aramaic and Hebrew usage. Even Helvidius, a 4th-century critic of Mary’s perpetual virginity, never argued she was adulterous; he simply thought she had later children with Joseph — a claim itself rejected by Jerome and the rest of Christian tradition.

There’s zero trace of a “Roman soldier” in any family record, apocryphal gospel, or early Christian confession. The earliest non-Christian references to Jesus (Tacitus, Josephus, Suetonius) don’t mention Pantera or illegitimacy at all.


6. How the Church Responded

The early Christians didn’t ignore this smear — they faced it head-on.

  • Justin Martyr, in his Dialogue with Trypho (ca. 160 AD), quotes Jewish opponents who said Jesus was “born from adultery.” Justin responds by pointing to the prophecy of Isaiah 7:14 — “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son.”

  • Origen, a century later, calls out Celsus by name, exposes his lack of sources, and points out that Celsus’ own religion was full of “miraculous births” he didn’t question.

Their message was simple: if you want to talk about myths, look at your own backyard. The Christian claim of the Virgin Birth is consistent, theological, and rooted in prophecy — not mythological pattern-making.


7. What Scholars Agree On

Here’s where modern historians (Christian, Jewish, and secular) actually agree:

ScholarView
Raymond E. Brown (The Birth of the Messiah)Pantera story = fiction; no historical evidence of Mary’s infidelity
Geza Vermes (Jesus the Jew)“Panthera” is a pun, not a person; a Jewish insult, not history
Bart Ehrman (Did Jesus Exist?)No corroboration for Pantera; late slander
Amy-Jill Levine (The Misunderstood Jew)“Illegitimacy” charge is polemic, not fact
N.T. Wright (Jesus and the Victory of God)The Virgin Birth fits Jewish eschatological hope, not pagan imitation

Even Jewish scholars who do not affirm the Virgin Birth acknowledge that the Pantera claim has no historical basis. It’s the ancient version of a YouTube comment thread — loud, mean, and evidence-free.


8. The Catholic Understanding



For Catholics, the virgin conception of Christ isn’t an optional belief — it’s a central mystery of the faith. It’s proclaimed in the Creed and affirmed by both Scripture and Tradition.

“Mary’s virginity manifests God’s absolute initiative in the Incarnation. Jesus has only God as Father.” — Catechism of the Catholic Church, §496
“Mary’s virginity and her divine motherhood manifest the absolute grace of God who acts beyond human expectations.” — CCC §503

It’s not biology that’s on trial here — it’s theology. Christianity claims that God entered the human story through a woman’s free yes. And the oldest surviving sources — Matthew, Luke, Justin, Origen — all agree on that point.

There’s no Roman soldier in sight.


9. Why These Myths Persist

Because scandal sells. The Virgin Birth doesn’t.
It’s easier to market “forbidden truths” than timeless ones. The internet thrives on what’s shocking, not what’s sacred.

But behind the “Pantera” myth is the same old human impulse: to drag down what we don’t understand. It’s what they did to Mary then — and it’s what they still do to the Church now.

The Pantera rumor was born not from evidence, but from resentment — the world’s resentment toward a faith that dares to say God entered the world poor, pure, and powerless.


10. Final Reflection

The “Pantera” theory isn’t history. It’s hearsay dressed in academic cosplay.
It’s the kind of claim that collapses under five minutes of honest reading — but still gets retweeted endlessly because it scratches that anti-Catholic itch.

And yet, there’s something poetic about it: even in mockery, the enemies of Christ confirm His uniqueness. If nothing miraculous happened in Nazareth, why invent a story to explain it away?

The Virgin Birth remains the most beautiful scandal in history — not a shame to hide, but a sign of divine love breaking into human weakness.

As Luke records:

“The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you.” — Luke 1:35

That’s not myth. That’s miracle.
And no Roman soldier’s grave will ever change it.


Selected Sources (Chicago Style)

  1. Origen, Contra Celsum 1.28–32.

  2. Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho, 67.

  3. Raymond E. Brown, The Birth of the Messiah (New York: Doubleday, 1993).

  4. Geza Vermes, Jesus the Jew (London: Collins, 1973).

  5. Bart D. Ehrman, Did Jesus Exist? (New York: HarperOne, 2012).

  6. Amy-Jill Levine, The Misunderstood Jew (New York: HarperOne, 2006).

  7. N.T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996).

  8. Catechism of the Catholic Church, §§ 496–503.

  9. Archaeological record of “Tiberius Julius Abdes Pantera,” Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum XIII.7513.


About the Author

Chris M. Forte is a Catholic writer and cultural historian based in Downtown San Diego. His work — from My Catholic Defense to The Italian Californian — blends faith, history, and unapologetic realism. He writes to dismantle myths, defend truth, and remind readers that the Church’s ancient story has outlived every empire, every heresy, and every conspiracy theory — and will outlive this one too.

Tuesday, November 4, 2025

Ancient Churches & Christian Sites: The Potential Locations of the Council of Nicaea 4th Century

 


The Historic Sites of the Council of Nicaea

İznik, Turkey — Where Creed and Empire Met

When Emperor Constantine summoned the first ecumenical council of the Christian Church in 325 A.D., he chose the lakeside city of Nicaea (modern İznik, Turkey) — a serene yet strategically located capital in Bithynia, just across the sea from Constantinople. Nearly three hundred bishops from across the empire journeyed here to define the faith, debate the nature of Christ, and give birth to what we now call the Nicene Creed.
Though the centuries have transformed Nicaea, two remarkable sites still preserve its memory: the Hagia Sophia Mosque (Ayasofya Camii) at the city’s center, and the submerged ruins of Constantine’s Palace on the shore of Lake İznik.


1. Hagia Sophia of Nicaea (Ayasofya Camii)

The Traditional Site of the Council



At the heart of İznik’s old city, surrounded by quiet streets and fragments of Roman walls, stands the Hagia Sophia of Nicaea — a building that has witnessed sixteen centuries of faith, conquest, and renewal.
Originally constructed as a Byzantine basilica in the 4th century, the church was rebuilt under Emperor Justinian I in the 6th century, roughly contemporary with the more famous Hagia Sophia in Constantinople. For generations, Christian tradition has held that the First Council of Nicaea took place here or in a predecessor structure on the same site.

In 1331, following the Ottoman conquest, the basilica was converted into a mosque by Sultan Orhan Gazi. Centuries later it was restored and briefly used as a museum, but in 2011 it was reopened as a functioning mosque, now known as Ayasofya Camii.
Visitors today can walk its mosaic floors and see layers of history side by side — the Christian apse and marble columns, the Islamic mihrab and minbar, and modern displays commemorating both the First and Second Councils of Nicaea (the latter convened here in 787 A.D.).

Standing in its nave, one can easily imagine the bishops and scribes of the 4th century gathered in debate as the light filters through the same ancient arches.



📍 Address: Atatürk Caddesi, İznik, Bursa Province, Turkey
🕰 Hours: Open daily; respectful attire required for mosque entry
💡 Tip: Visit in the late afternoon when the light through the south windows glows against the stone — a quiet echo of the eternal “light from light” the Nicene Creed proclaims.


2. Constantine’s Palace and the Submerged Basilica

The Likely Actual Venue of the Council



While the Hagia Sophia Mosque has long been the traditional site, modern historians and archaeologists point to a second location — the Imperial Palace of Constantine, once situated near the northwestern shore of Lake Ascania (Lake İznik).
Ancient accounts describe the council taking place within Constantine’s own palace complex, where he presided in person. The emperor’s residence, built overlooking the water, symbolized unity between Church and Empire.

Today, this area lies partly underwater, the result of centuries of rising lake levels and seismic activity. In 2014, archaeologists discovered the remains of a 4th-century basilica beneath the lake’s surface — only 20 meters offshore. The ruins include apses, columns, and mosaic floors consistent with early Christian architecture. Many scholars believe this basilica was built soon after the council, perhaps even atop or beside the original palace site.

From the lake promenade, you can see the basilica’s outline through the clear shallows. During calm weather, it is possible to take a glass-bottom boat tour or view the submerged foundations from the new Lake İznik Observation Platform. Plans are underway to transform the site into an underwater archaeological museum, preserving what may be one of Christianity’s earliest monumental churches.

📍 Location: Northwestern lakeshore of İznik, near the Lefke Gate
🕰 Access: Viewable from the shore or via guided lake tours (spring–autumn)
💡 Tip: Arrive at sunrise for a breathtaking view — the lake reflecting the old city walls where bishops once walked, and beneath the waters, the hidden foundations of the first great council of the Church.


A City of Two Councils and One Creed

Whether one stands in the restored Ayasofya Mosque or gazes across the shimmering waters toward the submerged palace ruins, İznik remains a place where history and theology meet. Here, in this quiet Turkish town, the foundations of Christian orthodoxy were laid — and the words recited in churches across the world were first debated, signed, and sealed.

Hagia Sophia of Nicaea (Ayasofya Camii)

Monday, November 3, 2025

Advent is Pagan!

 


Is Advent Pagan?

A Catholic Reflection and Defense

By Chris M. Forte

Every December, as the purple candles appear and the Church enters the quiet season of Advent, the same old accusations start to surface — that Advent is “pagan,” that it borrows from ancient solstice rituals, or that it’s just a repackaged version of sun-worship. Some even claim it’s “unbiblical” or “man-made tradition.”

Let’s be honest: these attacks don’t come from serious historical research. They come from ignorance, prejudice, and the same old anti-Catholic bigotry that’s been recycled for centuries. I’ve read the tracts, the blogs, the videos, and the “proofs.” None of them hold up to Scripture or history.

As a Catholic, I know Advent is not pagan — it’s profoundly Christian. Its meaning, symbols, and structure come straight from Scripture and the Church’s earliest understanding of Christ’s coming. The fact that some superficial parallels exist with pagan customs doesn’t make it pagan any more than pagans using fire made the discovery of fire demonic.

Let’s look at what the critics say — and then what the Church actually teaches.


1. The Accusations Against Advent

“It’s based on the pagan solstice festivals.”

Critics often point to the timing of Advent — late November through December — noting that it coincides with ancient midwinter festivals like Saturnalia or Yule. They claim the Church “Christianized” pagan sun celebrations to win converts. Some even say the increasing candlelight of the Advent wreath mimics pagan rituals celebrating the “return of the sun.”

This argument floats around the internet and in old anti-Catholic pamphlets. Writers like Alexander Hislop in The Two Babylons (1853) claimed most Catholic traditions, including Advent and Christmas, were just baptized Babylonian practices. Hislop wrote, “Papal worship is nothing else than the worship of Nimrod and his wife.” (Hislop, 1853).

Evangelical and fundamentalist circles have echoed this for decades. The accusation: that Advent — like Christmas — is just a pagan winter solstice party with Jesus’ name slapped on it.


“The Advent wreath is a pagan symbol.”

Another popular claim is that the Advent wreath — a circle of evergreens with four candles — comes from pre-Christian Germany, where pagans supposedly lit candles on evergreen wreaths to celebrate the return of the sun.

Yes, evergreen wreaths existed in ancient Europe. But the Christian Advent wreath as we know it was first developed in the 1800s by Johann Hinrich Wichern, a Lutheran pastor in Hamburg who used candles to teach children about waiting for Christmas. The custom spread quickly, and the Catholic Church embraced it as a devotional symbol, not a dogma.

So yes, the idea of a circle of greenery existed before Christianity — but so did bread, wine, and fire. The Church doesn’t run from these things; it redeems and re-purposes them for God’s glory.


“Advent isn’t in the Bible.”

This is another favorite of critics who claim, “If it’s not in Scripture, it’s not from God.” They argue that Advent, like Lent or the liturgical calendar itself, was invented later and is therefore “tradition of men.”

But that’s not how the Bible works. The concept of Advent — waiting for the Lord — is thoroughly biblical. The prophets spoke of it:

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” — Isaiah 9:2

John the Baptist lived it:

“Prepare the way of the Lord.” — Luke 3:4

And Christ Himself commanded His followers to “keep watch” for His return (Mark 13:35). The liturgical season of Advent simply formalizes that command into a rhythm of prayer and preparation.


2. The Truth About Advent

The Word “Advent”

“Advent” comes from the Latin adventus — meaning coming or arrival. In the early Church, Christians celebrated both the first coming of Christ (His birth) and His second coming (the end of time). The season was never about the sun’s return — it was about the Son’s return.

From the 4th century onward, the Church began setting aside several weeks before Christmas as a time of fasting, prayer, and repentance — not to mimic pagans, but to prepare the heart for the coming of Christ. Historical evidence shows Advent began in Spain and Gaul as a penitential season, similar to Lent, long before any “Christianization” of pagan customs.

“In the early centuries of the Church, Advent arose as a result of the fixed dating of Christmas.” — The Gospel Coalition (historical overview of Advent’s origin)

So Advent’s development wasn’t a compromise with paganism — it was a deepening of Christian theology.


The Wreath, Candles, and Colors

The Advent wreath’s four candles symbolize the four weeks of waiting — Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love — leading to the birth of Christ, the Light of the World (John 8:12). The growing light of each candle represents that Light overcoming darkness, just as Christ conquers sin.

The purple (or violet) candles represent penance and royalty; the rose candle on the third Sunday — Gaudete Sunday — marks joy and anticipation. These meanings are entirely rooted in Christian Scripture and liturgical symbolism.

Evergreens symbolize eternal life. Circles represent God’s unending love. Pagans might have used greenery to celebrate nature — but Catholics use it to celebrate divine grace.

As St. Paul said,

“Test everything; hold fast what is good.” — 1 Thessalonians 5:21
The Church didn’t steal pagan symbols — it purified them.


3. The Real Roots of Advent

Advent was formalized in the Western Church by the 4th or 5th century, as Christians began observing a preparatory season before Christmas much like Lent before Easter. In some regions, it lasted six weeks; in others, four.

The earliest documents — like the Council of Saragossa (380 A.D.) and the Sermons of St. Gregory the Great (6th century) — show that Advent was a season of penance, prayer, and anticipation. The emphasis was always the coming of Christ, not the cycles of nature.

That distinction matters. Paganism is about humanity’s attempt to manipulate the natural world for favor from the gods. Christianity is about God entering human history to save it. Advent reverses the logic of paganism: it’s not man reaching up, but God coming down.


4. The Modern Misunderstanding

Today, many of the same voices who call the Mass “pagan” now say the same about Advent, Christmas, and even Easter. They see any ritual, symbolism, or season as “idolatry.” But this rejection of the sacred is not biblical — it’s reactionary.

These accusations are not born from theology or reason; they’re born from hatred. They come from a deep suspicion of anything Catholic, from centuries of anti-Catholic propaganda that labeled the Church as “Babylon,” “the Whore,” and “the synagogue of Satan.”

It’s tragic, really — because the people who scream “pagan!” at Advent are attacking one of the most deeply biblical and Christ-centered seasons in the Christian year. Advent is not a festival of darkness; it’s the solemn lighting of the way toward the Light of the world.


5. Advent: The Christian Answer to Paganism

The Church has always taught that Christ is the fulfillment of every human longing — including the ones expressed in ancient myths and seasonal rituals. People throughout history have yearned for light, renewal, and redemption. Pagan cultures expressed that longing through symbols of fire and greenery, but Christianity revealed what they were really yearning for: Christ Himself.

In that sense, Advent isn’t pagan. It’s the answer to paganism. It’s the season when the ancient world’s hope becomes flesh and dwells among us.

As Pope Benedict XVI once said:

“Advent invites us to pause in silence to understand a presence… It is an invitation to understand that every event of history is a word spoken by God to us.” — Homily, December 2, 2006

That’s the beauty of Advent: it sanctifies time. It transforms winter darkness into spiritual light. It’s not about the birth of a sun god — it’s about the Incarnation of the Son of God.


6. Conclusion: The Light Has Come

When I light the candles of my Advent wreath, I don’t see echoes of pagan fire festivals or ancient superstitions. I see the promise of Isaiah fulfilled:

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” — Isaiah 9:2

I see the Church waiting in silence, hope, and faith — not for the turning of the seasons, but for the coming of the Savior.

Advent is not pagan. Advent is prophecy fulfilled. It is the heartbeat of the Church preparing for the Lord who was, is, and is to come.

“The night is far gone; the day is at hand.” — Romans 13:12


Notes & Selected Sources (Chicago Style)

  1. Alexander Hislop, The Two Babylons (Edinburgh: 1853).

  2. The Gospel Coalition, “The History of Advent,” 2020.

  3. Johann Hinrich Wichern and the Advent Wreath, Christian Heritage Fellowship (2021).

  4. Catechism of the Catholic Church, §§ 524–526.

  5. Pope Benedict XVI, Homily for First Sunday of Advent, December 2, 2006.

  6. Council of Saragossa (380 A.D.).

  7. St. Gregory the Great, Homilies on the Gospels, Book I.


About the Author



Chris M. Forte is a Catholic writer and storyteller based in Downtown San Diego. His work — from My Catholic Defense to The Italian Californian — explores faith, history, and identity. Through essays and stories, Chris confronts modern misconceptions about Catholicism and celebrates the timeless truth of the Church’s teachings. His writing reflects his conviction that the same light awaited in Advent still burns in every heart that seeks Christ.

Sunday, November 2, 2025

Thanksgiving in the United States: A Catholic Perspective

 


As Thanksgiving approaches in the U.S., I’d like to explore it from a Catholic perspective. This uniquely American holiday presents a meaningful opportunity for Catholics to reflect on gratitude as a core element of their faith, recognizing the blessings from God and gathering in a spirit of thankfulness. By looking at Thanksgiving through the lens of Catholic teachings, we can deepen our understanding of gratitude and the role it plays in both our personal lives and faith communities.


Thanksgiving in the United States: A Catholic Perspective

Thanksgiving, celebrated on the fourth Thursday of November, is a cherished American holiday that traditionally focuses on gratitude, family gatherings, and feasting. While its historical roots are often traced to the 1621 feast between the Pilgrims and Native Americans in Plymouth, Massachusetts, the Catholic Church recognizes Thanksgiving as an opportunity to reflect on gratitude as a key virtue in Christian life. The Catholic Church views Thanksgiving as a time to express thanks to God for His blessings, offering a moment for families and communities to come together in a spirit of prayer and thanksgiving.



Although Thanksgiving is not a religious holiday in the liturgical calendar, many Catholics attend Mass to offer prayers of gratitude, and the holiday’s emphasis on thankfulness aligns closely with Catholic teachings. The U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops encourages Catholics to attend Mass and reflect on the many blessings they have received, following the example of Christ, who gave thanks at the Last Supper.

The "Actual First Thanksgiving" in New Spain



Some historians argue that the first Thanksgiving in what is now the United States did not occur in Plymouth in 1621 but rather in St. Augustine, Florida, in 1565, when Spanish settlers and Native American converts held a feast and celebrated the first Mass of Thanksgiving on American soil. The Mass, a central part of Catholic worship, was celebrated by Spanish settlers led by Don Pedro Menéndez de Avilés. This event marks an earlier moment of thanksgiving, where Catholics and Native Americans came together in gratitude, worship, and fellowship.

Similarly, Catholic thanksgiving celebrations were held in New Mexico in 1598, when Don Juan de Oñate and Spanish settlers gave thanks to God upon their safe arrival in the region. Mass was celebrated, followed by a communal meal with the Indigenous peoples.

These early Thanksgiving events, rooted in Catholic liturgy and tradition, reflect the deep connection between faith, gratitude, and community. While they are lesser-known compared to the 1621 Plymouth feast, they demonstrate that the Catholic Church was integral to early expressions of thanksgiving on the American continent.

Conclusion

For Catholics in the United States, Thanksgiving is more than just a secular holiday. It is a time to reflect on gratitude and to remember the role of the Church in early American history, including the Catholic Masses of thanksgiving that predate the more widely celebrated Pilgrim feast. Whether celebrating in Plymouth, St. Augustine, or New Mexico, the core of Thanksgiving remains the same: a heartfelt expression of gratitude to God for His many blessings.

The Catholic Faith and Veterans Day: A Reflection on Patriotism, Peace, and Christian Duty

 


The Catholic Faith and Veterans Day: A Reflection on Patriotism, Peace, and Christian Duty

Veterans Day, observed in the United States to honor those who served in the military, raises deep questions for Catholics and other Christians about nationalism, patriotism, and the relationship between faith and secular obligations. Christianity’s teachings on peace, love for all people, and the call to "turn the other cheek" (Matthew 5:39) compel believers to consider how—or if—they should participate in nationalistic holidays. At the heart of the matter lies a tension between honoring sacrifices made for a nation and the Christian imperative for universal love, peace, and the Kingdom of God.

Patriotism and Love of Neighbor: Striking a Balance

Catholic tradition acknowledges patriotism as a natural and good expression of love for one's community, provided it does not lead to hostility or indifference toward others. The Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC 2239-2240) teaches that citizens should love their country and participate in society for the common good. However, this love is secondary to the universal love for all people, transcending borders (Galatians 3:28). Pope John Paul II often emphasized that true patriotism means pursuing justice and peace for all, without isolating others or placing national interests above moral principles.

War, Peace, and the Christian Witness

The Christian ideal for peace often seems at odds with the reality of national wars and borders. Jesus’ teachings, including the Sermon on the Mount, call for a pacifist approach: "Blessed are the peacemakers" (Matthew 5:9). Historically, early Christians and Apostolic Fathers like Tertullian and Origen were largely pacifist, abstaining from military service as they believed it conflicted with Christ’s teachings. This tradition continues in certain Christian sects today, such as Quakers and Mennonites, who reject violence and advocate for conscientious objection.

Catholic teaching, however, has developed a nuanced approach. St. Augustine’s "Just War Theory," expanded by St. Thomas Aquinas, accepts the necessity of war under strict conditions—primarily as a last resort and in defense of the innocent. The Catechism (CCC 2309) reaffirms this, acknowledging that legitimate governments may wage war to protect peace and justice. Therefore, Catholics may honor veterans who served with the intent of protecting innocent lives or preserving justice, but this respect does not equate to an uncritical endorsement of all wars.

Should Christians Be Politically Neutral?

Jesus emphasized that His Kingdom is “not of this world” (John 18:36), suggesting that Christians should avoid entanglement in worldly power struggles. Historically, figures like St. Francis of Assisi and St. Teresa of Avila emphasized a radical detachment from earthly power, urging believers to focus on spiritual transformation over political allegiance.

Yet, the Church also teaches that Christians have a duty to participate in the earthly community to promote the common good (CCC 1915). While national borders may exist, Christians are called to transcend them in spirit, actively showing compassion and justice to all people. Pope Francis frequently reminds the faithful that nationalism must not override the Christian duty to welcome and support refugees, immigrants, and the marginalized. This universal outlook challenges the notion that Christians should endorse national pride unconditionally.

Veterans Day and the Christian Perspective

Celebrating Veterans Day as a Christian invites reflection. Honoring veterans for their sacrifices is compatible with Catholic teaching, provided it does not glorify violence or imply support for unjust wars. St. Paul writes, “Render to all what is due them… respect to whom respect is due, honor to whom honor is due” (Romans 13:7). Recognizing the sacrifices of those who served in legitimate defense of the vulnerable can be an act of respect and gratitude.

However, caution is necessary. The Church teaches that patriotism should never blind us to our duty to love and serve all humanity. Pope Benedict XVI advised that Catholics view themselves as part of a “universal church” first and a “national community” second. He warned against the dangers of nationalism that can lead to division, calling Catholics to a broader commitment to peace and unity.

Pacifism or Defense: Seeking the Gospel’s Path

The Gospel’s call to “turn the other cheek” encourages Christians to approach conflict with patience, humility, and forgiveness. While the Church has allowed for defense in extreme cases, many Christians interpret Christ’s words as a radical call to pacifism, as seen in movements led by figures like Martin Luther King Jr. and Dorothy Day. The Catholic Worker Movement, for instance, has long championed nonviolence, embodying the teachings of peace and mercy.

Ultimately, Christianity encourages a peace-focused worldview. The Second Vatican Council’s Gaudium et Spes states, “War is a defeat for humanity” and calls for efforts to avoid conflict through justice and mutual respect. This vision aligns with the Christian hope for a unified and peaceful world—a vision reflected in the Beatitudes and echoed by many Church teachings.

Conclusion: A Call to Conscience and Discernment

Catholics and other Christians face a personal and communal discernment regarding Veterans Day. Recognizing the sacrifices of those who served can be an act of gratitude, yet this must be balanced with a commitment to peace and the Christian rejection of violence and unjust power. The Church calls its followers to build bridges of peace and compassion, viewing all people as brothers and sisters.

In a world divided by borders, Christians are reminded that their primary allegiance is to the Kingdom of God—a kingdom without borders, built on love, mercy, and peace for all humanity. In the words of Pope Francis, “Let us be builders of peace in our communities and in the world.”

Saturday, November 1, 2025

The Catholic Church and Native Americans



I have always stood as an advocate for the underdog and the marginalized. My experiences of being bullied in school for being "different"—due to my mild autism and the sometimes harsh nature of childhood—taught me to empathize deeply with those who are persecuted unjustly. While I am a proud patriot and a believer in Western civilization, Catholicism, and the ideals of American Exceptionalism, I also recognize the darker side of Western conquest and colonization, including the atrocities committed in its wake.

Perhaps my sensitivity to these issues stems from my Sicilian heritage—a land that has endured countless foreign conquests and colonizations throughout history. Or perhaps it comes from my Christian faith, which calls me to see every person as created in the image of God. Maybe it’s simply my humanity. Whatever the reason, I have always felt a profound empathy for the Native American and Indigenous peoples of what is now the United States.

I pray that all people come to accept the truth of Catholic Christianity, the true God and the Church He founded—the Catholic Church. It brings me joy to see many Native Americans embracing this faith. Yet, I cannot ignore or excuse the times when the Church, through certain leaders or members, failed in its mission of love and justice. Forced conversions, complicity with conquest, and participation in the colonization of Indigenous peoples remain painful stains on the history of evangelization.

In the article that follows, I will explore the complex relationship between the Catholic Church and Native American communities, examining both the positive contributions and the undeniable harm. Without whitewashing the past, my goal is to look forward with hope, highlighting the resilience and faith of Native American Catholics and envisioning a future of healing, reconciliation, and unity within the larger Catholic Church.

The Catholic Church and Native Americans: A Complex History of Pain, Faith, and Reconciliation

The history of the Catholic Church's relationship with Native American communities in North America is as rich and multifaceted as it is painful. It is a story of evangelization and oppression, of cultural conflict and spiritual embrace, of missionary zeal and moral failure. Understanding this history requires acknowledging the sins of the past while celebrating the faith, resilience, and contributions of Native American Catholics today. This article examines the Church’s engagement with Native Americans, exploring both the positive and negative aspects, and offering hope for a future of reconciliation and mutual respect.


The Positive Contributions

1. Evangelization and Faith Formation

The Catholic Church has long sought to bring the message of Christ to all people, including the Native tribes of North America. Missionaries, such as the Jesuits, Franciscans, and Dominicans, played a pivotal role in introducing the Gospel to Indigenous communities. Figures like St. Isaac Jogues, Fr. Pierre-Jean De Smet, and others worked to establish missions, translate religious texts into Native languages, and teach the faith while living alongside Indigenous peoples.

For many Native Americans, Catholicism became a source of strength and identity, blending with Indigenous traditions in unique and meaningful ways. Today, Native American Catholics form vibrant communities that honor both their cultural heritage and their faith.

2. Advocacy for Native Rights

Not all Catholic missionaries were complicit in the abuses of colonization. Some, such as Bartolomé de las Casas and Fr. Pierre-Jean De Smet, advocated passionately for Native rights. De las Casas, a Dominican friar in the 16th century, spoke out against the enslavement and mistreatment of Indigenous peoples by European colonizers, earning him the title "Protector of the Indians." Similarly, De Smet worked as a mediator between Native tribes and the U.S. government, often advocating for Native sovereignty and justice.

3. Education and Healthcare

Catholic missions often provided essential services such as education and healthcare, especially in remote areas where few alternatives existed. Schools, hospitals, and orphanages run by Catholic religious orders served Native communities, sometimes offering critical resources during difficult times. While these contributions were significant, they were not without controversy, as discussed below.


The Darker Legacy

1. Forced Conversions and Cultural Suppression

In many instances, Catholic evangelization was intertwined with European colonization, leading to forced conversions and the suppression of Indigenous cultures. Native spiritual practices were often labeled as pagan and eradicated, while Indigenous languages, traditions, and governance were undermined. The missions, though often well-intentioned, became tools of assimilation, stripping Native peoples of their cultural identity in the name of faith.

2. The Boarding School System

Perhaps the most infamous example of cultural suppression was the Church’s involvement in the Native American boarding school system. These schools, many of which were run by Catholic religious orders, sought to assimilate Native children into Western culture. While they provided education, they often did so at great cost—prohibiting Native languages, severing family bonds, and subjecting children to harsh discipline and, in some cases, physical and emotional abuse.

In recent years, the Church has begun to confront this painful legacy, offering apologies and supporting efforts to uncover the truth about boarding schools and their impact on Native communities.

3. Complicity in Colonization

While some Catholic leaders opposed the exploitation of Native Americans, others were complicit in the broader colonial project. By aligning themselves with European powers, parts of the Church became enmeshed in systems of conquest and dispossession, often benefiting from the land and labor taken from Native peoples.


Modern Resilience and Faith



Despite the injustices of the past, Native American Catholics have demonstrated remarkable resilience and faith. Figures like St. Kateri Tekakwitha, the first Native American saint, and Nicholas Black Elk, a Lakota catechist whose cause for canonization is underway, embody the profound connection between Indigenous identity and Catholic spirituality. Their lives inspire millions and stand as testaments to the enduring power of faith.



Today, events like the Tekakwitha Conference, an annual gathering of Native American Catholics, celebrate this unique cultural and spiritual synthesis. Parishes and dioceses with significant Native populations have embraced inculturation, incorporating Native languages, music, and traditions into Catholic liturgy. These efforts honor the cultural heritage of Indigenous peoples while strengthening their connection to the Church.


Steps Toward Healing and Reconciliation

In recent years, the Catholic Church has taken steps to acknowledge its historical failures and foster healing. In 2022, Pope Francis visited Canada to apologize for the Church’s role in the residential school system, expressing deep sorrow for the harm done to Indigenous peoples. Across North America, dioceses and religious orders are working with Native communities to uncover the truth, promote dialogue, and support initiatives for justice and reconciliation.

A Path Forward

  • Truth-Telling: The Church must continue to confront the sins of the past, supporting efforts to uncover the full truth about its involvement in colonization and boarding schools.
  • Cultural Respect: Encouraging inculturation and honoring Native traditions within Catholic worship fosters mutual respect and understanding.
  • Advocacy and Solidarity: The Church can play a powerful role in addressing ongoing injustices faced by Native communities, such as poverty, land rights issues, and access to healthcare and education.

Looking Ahead

The Catholic Church’s relationship with Native Americans has been both a source of inspiration and a cause of deep pain. By acknowledging the past honestly and working toward a future of respect and unity, the Church can continue to walk alongside Native communities as partners in faith and justice. The resilience of Native American Catholics, their enduring spirituality, and their commitment to their heritage stand as a powerful testament to the possibilities of reconciliation and hope.

In honoring this history, we not only recognize the wounds but also celebrate the healing power of faith—reminding us all of the Gospel’s call to love, justice, and unity for all people.

The Contributions of Fr. Eusebio Kino



One of the most notable Catholic missionaries to work with Native Americans was Fr. Eusebio Kino, a Jesuit priest and explorer in the late 17th and early 18th centuries. Often called the "Padre on Horseback," Fr. Kino established numerous missions in what is now southern Arizona and northern Mexico, working tirelessly to evangelize and serve the Indigenous peoples of the region, particularly the Tohono O’odham Nation. Unlike some contemporaries, Fr. Kino is remembered for his relatively respectful approach to Native cultures. He advocated for the rights of Native communities, introduced sustainable agricultural practices, and fostered peaceful relations between tribes and Spanish settlers. His work laid the foundations for vibrant Catholic communities in the Southwest, and his legacy continues to inspire efforts toward cultural understanding and collaboration between Native Americans and the Catholic Church.