07 April 2026

Summa Contra Gentiles Book I: God Is Not the Form of a Body

From Contemplating History


Saint Thomas Aquinas (1225 – 7 March 1274), was a Doctor of the Church, Philosopher, Theologian, Jurist, Dominican Friar, and Priest. Known as Doctor Angelicus "Angelic Doctor," and the Doctor Communis "Universal Doctor" his writings serve as a defense and proof of the validity of Christ's authority over all. The Summa contra Gentiles (also known as Liber de veritate catholicae fidei contra errores infidelium, "Book on the truth of the Catholic faith against the errors of the unbelievers"). The Summa contra Gentiles consists of four books. The structure of Saint Thomas's work is designed to proceed from general philosophical arguments for monotheism, to which Muslims and Jews are likely to consent even within their own respective religious traditions, before progressing to the discussion of specifically Christian doctrine. Book I begins with general questions of truth and natural reason, and from chapter 10 investigates the concept of a monotheistic God. Chapters 10 to 13 are concerned with the existence of God, followed by a detailed investigation of God's properties (chapters 14 to 102). When demonstrating a Truth about God which can be known through reason, St. Thomas gives multiple arguments, each proving the same Truth in a different way. Whether you are a history enthusiast, a student of religion, or simply curious about the impact of the Roman Catholic Church on the world, this playlist is designed to provide an informative and engaging journey through its captivating past. Subscribe to the Contemplating History channel for more educational content and immerse yourself in the rich tapestry of history.

New AI Program Answers Hundreds of Commonly Asked Questions About Catholicism


Using artificial intelligence to help people learn more about their faith is not surprising because the Catholic Church has had a long history with science and technology.

The Holy Rosary

Tuesday, the Sorrowful Mysteries, in Latin with Cardinal Burke.

The Life of His Majesty the King Christian X of Denmark ~ (1870–-1947)

From The Romanian Monarchist


Christian X (Danish: Christian Carl Frederik Albert Alexander Vilhelm; 26 September 1870 – 20 April 1947) was King of Denmark from 1912 until his death in 1947. He was also the only King of Iceland as Kristján X, holding the title as a result of the personal union between Denmark and independent Iceland between 1918 and 1944. He was a member of the House of Glücksburg, a branch of the House of Oldenburg, and the first monarch since King Frederick VII born into the Danish royal family; both his father and his grandfather were born as princes of a ducal family from Schleswig. Among his siblings was King Haakon VII of Norway. His son became Frederick IX of Denmark. Among his cousins were King George V of the United Kingdom, Emperor Nicholas II of Russia, and King Constantine I of Greece, while Queen Maud of Norway, was both his cousin and sister-in-law. His character has been described as authoritarian and he strongly stressed the importance of royal dignity and power. His reluctance to fully embrace democracy resulted in the Easter Crisis of 1920, in which he dismissed the democratically elected Social Liberal cabinet with which he disagreed, and installed one of his own choosing. This was in accordance with the letter of the constitution, but the principle of parliamentarianism had been considered a constitutional custom since 1901. Faced with mass demonstrations, a general strike organized by the Social Democrats and the risk of the monarchy being overthrown he was forced to accept that a monarch could not keep a government in office against the will of parliament, as well as his reduced role as a symbolic head of state. During the German occupation of Denmark, Christian became a popular symbol of resistance, particularly because of the symbolic value of the fact that he rode every day through the streets of Copenhagen unaccompanied by guards. With a reign spanning two world wars, and his role as a rallying symbol for Danish national sentiment during the German occupation, he became one of the most popular Danish monarchs of modern times.

Has the Universe Always Existed?

With Fr Thomas Davenport, OP, PhD, LicPhil, Professor of Philosophy at the Angelicum in Rome.

How This Catholic Artist Is Sharing the Faith in Japan

Haruhi Aisaka, a Japanese Catholic and artist, is using his art to spread the Faith in his homeland. May he be eminently successful!


From Aleteia

By Cerith Gardiner

Japanese artist Haruhi Aisaka is offering a fresh and moving vision of how faith can speak to culture from within.

There is something deeply touching about seeing the Catholic faith expressed in a way that feels native, familiar, and lovingly close to the culture around it. And that is part of what makes the work of Japanese Catholic artist Haruhi Aisaka so striking.

At this year’s Comiket in Tokyo, the enormous convention known for manga, anime, and self-published creative work, Aisaka presented Catholic-themed illustrations in the unmistakable visual language of Japanese comics. Saints, symbols of faith, and Christian themes appeared not as something foreign or imported, but as something beautifully at home within a Japanese artistic world.

And perhaps that is exactly why it feels so meaningful.

Aisaka is not simply experimenting with Christian imagery from a distance. She is herself a Catholic artist in Japan, bringing her own sincerity and tenderness to her work. Her art does not seem to be trying to “make Catholicism trendy” or force faith into a modern idiom. It simply allows Catholicism to breathe through a style that many Japanese people already know, love, and understand instinctively. And there is something rather hopeful in that.

Too often, religious art is assumed to come in one visual tradition only, as though holiness must always look European, solemn, or stylistically fixed in time. But the Church has never lived that way. Catholicism is universal not because it erases cultures, but because it enters them. It has always found ways to speak through local music, language, architecture, food, and of course, local ways of making beauty.

Aisaka took the time to share with Aleteia a little bit more about her life as a Catholic artist in Japan:

Haruhi, congratulations on your beautiful work! Could you tell us how many people came to visit you at the convention:

With all my appearances at conventions combined, around 70 people bought stuff at my booth. Which is just slightly above average for someone who’s just starting.

It’s a bit difficult to measure how many people came to see my art since the conventions that I participate in are more like marketplaces than art galleries. Most people just glance at my giant poster of anime Mary and move on. Since I’m still an unknown in Japan, nearly all of my sales come from people who spontaneously bought my stuff.

On Twitter, I seemed to garner a small but passionate following, which I’m incredibly grateful for. When I participated in Comic Market, I met a few people from America who follow my Twitter account. That was a huge surprise.

What sort of responses do people have to seeing religious manga? 

The response that I am getting online is overwhelming. When I debuted at Comic Market, there were several posts reporting on a Japanese Catholic artist drawing an anime Virgin Mary that blew up on Twitter and Instagram. Even Yiman, an anime YouTuber whom I was a big fan of, made a video about me! I read tons of comments in English, Spanish, and a whole bunch of other languages, cheering me on, and I’m deeply thankful.

The response that I get from Japanese people is much tamer in comparison, but is even more encouraging in some ways. The friends and the priests at my church all support me. But even my non-Christian friends are interested in what I do. I show them my drawings of the Virgin Mary, and they say, “She looks so cute!” Hearing that from people who aren’t even Christian gives me so much joy.

Has doing these religious designs deepened your own faith? 

Making my art has profoundly deepened my Catholic faith in a way that I never really expected. When I make my art, I try my best to research as much as I can about who or what I’m trying to depict, which has led to learning a lot about Scripture, the saints, and church tradition.

This research is doubly important when considering the goals I have in my depictions. I don’t want to simply dump a coat of anime paint over existing Christian art. If I just did that, there would be no good reason to deviate so much from the beautiful, sacred art that already exists. Instead, I want my art to fully utilize all the conventions and visual language used in anime and Japanese culture more broadly, while still being grounded in Scripture and sacred tradition.

My depiction of St. Mary Magdalene is a good example of what I’m trying to go for. I’m sure in reality, St. Mary Magdalene didn’t have red eyes with reddish-pink eyeshadow and bangs. Admittedly, my depiction deviates significantly from how people traditionally depicted her. Instead of mimicking traditional depictions, I tried to express who she is by using the visual vocabulary of anime and modern Japanese culture.

To do this, I had to really look into the life of St. Mary Magdalene. I read the few Gospel passages about her over and over again. I read Pope St. Gregory the Great’s homily on her, as well as various folk traditions and interpretations about her throughout history. This was all done to try and make the best depiction of her I possibly could.

And as an artist, have you always done spiritual creations? 

I initially drew fan art of my favorite anime characters for practice, but right now I’m only creating Christian art. I do want to draw more fan art and my own manga stories in the future, but the draw to draw Mother Mary is just too strong for me to resist.

In a way, a huge reason why I was motivated to learn how to draw is my faith. When I was young, I was never interested in drawing. It was only after I became a Christian that I seriously thought about learning to draw as a means to express myself. There’s a lot in my mind about God that I can’t express effectively in words, so I thought that maybe I could express it through art.

... even my non-Christian friends are interested in what I do.

Why should sacred images be any different?

In Japan, where Christianity remains a minority faith, this question matters all the more. Images have enormous power. They can make something feel distant, or they can make it feel near. When faith is shown in a visual language that belongs to the place itself, it becomes easier to imagine that faith living there too — not as an import, but as something real, rooted, and personal.

That is what feels so lovely about Aisaka’s presence at Comiket. In the middle of one of the most recognizably Japanese creative spaces imaginable, Catholic art was not standing awkwardly at the edges. It was there naturally, speaking a familiar aesthetic language, and quietly suggesting that holiness can look at home anywhere to the hundreds of thousands of visitors who visit the convention.

As well as the potential mass audience, there is also something especially moving about the manga style itself. Manga has long been a medium of emotion, intimacy, expression, and storytelling. It has a way of making faces feel open, feelings legible, and inner life visible. When that same language is turned toward Catholic themes, it can make the faith feel unexpectedly relatable. Not smaller, not lighter, but closer.

And perhaps that closeness is part of evangelization too.

People do not always encounter faith first through arguments or theology. Sometimes they encounter it through beauty, through recognition, through the sudden feeling that something once perceived as distant has become understandable. A saint drawn in a familiar style, a sacred symbol shaped by local aesthetics, a Catholic artist creating from within her own culture — all this can gently open a door.

Haruhi Aisaka’s work seems to do exactly that. It reminds us that the faith does not become less universal when it takes on a local face. If anything, it becomes more convincingly universal, because it shows that Christ can be encountered in every culture, and that beauty can help make that truth visible.

If you'd like to discover more of Haruhi Aisaka's beautiful work, please click on the slideshow.