19 October 2026
Summa Contra Gentiles, Book III: XIX That All Things Tend To Be Like Unto God
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.
AI May Free Us to Be More Human | Rebecca Goldstein,PhD
Will AI diminish what makes human life meaningful—or help us become more human? Rebecca Newberger Goldstein argues that while AI may transform many traditional human achievements, understanding, ethical action, and the search for meaning remain deeply human activities. In her most optimistic moments, she suggests AI may actually free us to become more human rather than less. 0:00 AI and Human Mattering 3:00 Why Understanding Still Matters 8:40 Could AI Develop a Mattering Instinct? 11:18 Consciousness, Rights, and Moral Status Rebecca Newberger Goldstein is a MacArthur Fellow and National Humanities Medal recipient whose ten acclaimed books span philosophy and fiction, including her new work The Mattering Instinct: How Our Deepest Longing Drives Us and Divides Us.
One of the Princes in the Tower Was Married and This Is What Happened to His Wife | Anne Mowbray
Is Catholicism Anti-Science?
Should We Be Uneasy About Skeletons and What They Represent?
One thing Mr Kosloski doesn't mention is that there is an entire chapel constructed of bones in Sedlec, Czechia, a suburb of Kutná Hora.
.jpg)
From Aleteia
By Philip Kosloski
During the Halloween season, skeletons seem to be everywhere. For some, this is disconcerting.
Some of the tamer Halloween decorations that many have purchased in the last few years have been skeletons, some small and some as big as your house. Most of the skeletons are simple, featuring a normal skeleton body, while others are more frightening, and are designed to scare the small trick-or-treaters who stop by on Halloween night.
It's an interesting trend, as it implies that skeletons are meant to be scary, and that their presence should remind us of the creepy Halloween season. Yet, for Christians, should skeletons really scare us? What's so frightening about them?
Skeletons and death
The main reason why skeletons are associated with Halloween is because of their association with death. A human skeleton is something unnatural, as it means that someone has died and that the rest of their body has decayed.
For some people, this alone is a frightening fact, as it subconsciously reminds us of our own future death. When we see a skeleton, it points to the reality that life is short and that we will end up like that skeleton.
This is one of the reasons why so many AI developers are hoping that they will be able to upload their consciousness into a robot in a few years. They don't want their life to end and hope to achieve some sort of "immortality" on earth.
Christians, while we may have some of the same fears of death, should also look at it with hope.
At the end of St. Thérèse of Lisieux's autobiography, Story of a Soul, there are some reminiscences given by a few of the sisters. Here is a conversation she had with a few of them about death.
“We do not yet know of what disease you will die. . . .” “But,” she answered, “I shall die of death! Did not God tell Adam of what he would die when He said to him: ‘Thou shalt die of death?'”
“Then death will come to fetch you?”—"No, not death, but the Good God. Death is not, as pictures tell us,a phantom, a horrid spectre. The Catechism says that it is the separation of soul and body—no more! Well, I do not fear a separation which will unite me for ever to God.“
She firmly believed that death would unite and not separate her. It would lead to an eternal union with God.
In many ways we should look forward to death, seeing in it the gateway to life, a life that will never end.
Some saints and individuals have even placed skulls on their desks, reminding them of their death, which in turn shapes their everyday actions.
While skeletons may be used as a modern decoration for Halloween to scare individuals, for Christians, the skeleton we see on our neighbor's lawn should remind us of our future.
As St. Thérèse said, it is not death, but "the Good God" who will seek us out at the end of our lives, bringing us into his loving arms for all eternity.
Synod Theologian Urges the Vatican To Redefine the Traditional Family
The "sin-odal church" marches on!
Breaking: The Vatican Is Preparing to Canonize a Satanist
For the first time in its history, Vatican News publications are talking up the late Cardinal Bernardin, who has been accused of ritual satanic evil by still-living people. A Vatican-affiliated organisation is preparing to bestow honours upon him, in the first step towards beatification.
Why Medieval Prisons Were a Total Fever Dream
Traditional Catholic Morning Prayers in English | October
Pope Leo XIV's 7 Rules for New Bishops—And Why They Matter to You
Without This Spiritual Director, Teresa of Avila May Have Never Become a Saint
From Aleteia
By Peter Kosloski
St. Peter of Alcántara encouraged Teresa and counselled her when no one else would.
Saints are not born in vacuums. Just like us, they need the support of friends and trusted spiritual advisors to show them the will of God. Such was the case with St. Teresa of Avila, who may have never reached the heights of perfection if it weren't for the intervention of St. Peter of Alcántara.
Teresa was a Carmelite nun during the 16th century, and after joining the order, she eventually realized that there was something lacking. At the time the Carmelite monastery where she resided was full of visitors and the nuns were more concerned about worldly affairs than heavenly ones.
She began to draw closer to God, and disciplined herself more harshly than her fellow sisters. Jesus began to send her visions, but her confessors all thought it was the work of the devil.
This created great confusion within her soul and she didn't know what to think. Was God truly speaking to her? Or was it the devil?
Spiritual director
A friend of hers outside the monastery knew the turmoil she was in and was able to get permission for her to stay at her house while a Franciscan priest, St. Peter of Alcántara, was visiting the area. At last she was able to speak to a spiritual advisor who didn't think she was crazy and fully understood the state of her soul.
She writes about it in her autobiography.
I was able, therefore, to reveal my soul to Fray Peter without duplicity or concealment. Almost from the beginning, I saw that, out of his own experience, he understood me. And that was all I needed; for I did not understand myself then as I do now, and I could not describe what I was experiencing ... just then I needed someone who had gone through it all himself, for such a person alone could understand me and interpret my experiences. He enlightened me wonderfully about them. I had been unable, at least as regards the visions which were not imaginary, to understand what they could all mean ...This holy man enlightened me about the whole matter, explained it all to me and told me not to be distressed but to praise God and be quite certain that it was the work of the Spirit.
Even after he left the area, St. Teresa would write letters to St. Peter and reveal to him anything that was troubling her soul. This correspondence gave her comfort as most in the monastery dismissed her and she felt alone in her unique mission.
St. Peter also encouraged her to found her first monastery in Avila, thus paving the way for a major reform of the Carmelite order.
This series of events reminds us of the need to consult trusted spiritual directors, especially when we are suffering a spiritual trial. Holiness is not attained in solitude, but requires the support of friends and advisors who can encourage us and affirm the path that God has marked out for us.
18 October 2026
“The Hostile Takeover Within the Catholic Church!” (Bishop Schneider’s CIC 2026 Keynote)
Stories From the Silver Screen: Chariots of Fire
Dr Martin continues his series looking at films through a Catholic lens, this time with Chariots of Fire, concentrating on the music by Vangelis Papathanassiou.
From Crisis
By Regis Martin, STD
Chariots of Fire tells the story of two outsiders driven to greatness, but only one of them, Eric Liddell, runs not for himself but for the glory of God.
General Ulysses S. Grant, who, on military matters, was an undoubted expert, knew next to nothing about music, once claiming to have known only two tunes. “One of them is ‘Yankee Doodle,’” he confessed. “And the other isn’t.”
He and I, I’m afraid, are not so far apart. I too know only one tune, and it isn’t “Yankee Doodle.” In fact, it’s the theme song from “Chariots of Fire,” which is the next story I wish to tell in this series of great movies. And straightaway the most immediate and striking feature of the movie is the music that gives us the theme for it, imparting the atmosphere in which the story may be told. Wave upon wave of gorgeous sound, as it were, filling the space where the action is set. Revealing the deep paradox found at the heart of all great music, succinctly described by Victor Hugo. “Music,” he said, “expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.”
If he’s right, and I’ve no reason to think otherwise, then the only way to really see “Chariots of Fire” is through the medium of the music that surrounds it, in which it is immersed, even as it defies our best efforts to say anything about it. Yet, at the same time, we mustn’t remain silent! Indeed, God himself has not remained silent, for, as Joseph Ratzinger reminds us in a tantalizing formulation, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word burst into song.”
Perhaps the artist-musician behind the movie, the Greek composer Vangelis Papathanassiou, has shown us a way out. If music is a sonic event, which is to say, the sound of air moving through time, then the soundtrack he has put together is truly inspired, for it provides the most apt accompaniment to the undulating rhythm and movement of the runners as we watch them, near the beginning, splashing joyously along the beach at Broadstairs while training for the Paris Olympics of 1924. How wonderfully his music pulsates throughout the whole length and breadth of this lovely and moving film!
Indeed, God himself has not remained silent, for, as Joseph Ratzinger reminds us in a tantalizing formulation, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word burst into song.”That was the year, by the way, they competed. But the story itself begins several years before, just after the end of the Great War that left millions dead and an entire civilization in ruins. A whole generation of young men, and the loved ones they left behind, blighted by war and the bitter disillusion that followed. Among those who survived, however, or were too young at the time to fight, are the characters in the film, the young athletes whom we first encounter as students at Cambridge, one of whom is Harold Abrahams, son of an immigrant Jew from Lithuania. Who will need no little courage to overcome not a few prejudices embedded in England’s class system, not the least being antisemitism. Given his extraordinary gifts as an athlete, along with ample amounts of that wonderful Yiddish quality called chutzpah, he will succeed.
The other is a Scot named Eric Liddell, son of missionaries in China, equally blessed with athletic prowess but not, as it happens, a student at Cambridge. The two will compete most fiercely in the races that will decide the team Britain sends to Paris. They each qualify and will each carry medals in triumph back home.
Two outsiders, then, who, if they are to reach for greatness, for the stars above, must learn to overcome certain obstacles thrown in their way, societal pressures preventing their ascent. Which, in order to do so, will require no little magnanimity, or greatness of spirit, an ancient virtue aiming always at the highest possibilities of human excellence. Aristotle called it “the crown of the virtues,” the capstone on which human achievement may finally rest.
Aristotle called it “the crown of the virtues,” the capstone on which human achievement may finally rest.But each is very differently driven in his respective pursuit of so lofty an end. Abrahams is determined on greatness largely for himself, as a way of validating his own identity, his need to be accepted on his own terms, not by the standards set by class or ethnicity, which are alien and would thwart his ambition. The opening scene at Cambridge, for instance, in which he becomes the first ever to circle the courtyard in the time it takes the clock to strike twelve, beginning at the first chime, vividly illustrates the point that he will not be defined by others, that he will defy the odds and not be defeated.
Liddell, of course, is moved by an entirely different set of rhythms, animated by a music not of this world. It is divine grace that propels his spirit, moves his limbs. It is the desire to please God, to whom all the glory is due, that gives meaning and purpose to his life. And that to run well, that to experience the sheer exhilaration of the race, is not about winning, but about worship, of giving oneself wholly to God. All his actions, therefore, are intended as an oblation, an offering of such gifts as he has back to God, who had first given them to him.
“I believe that God made me for a purpose,” he tells his sister. “He made me fast. And when I run I feel his pleasure.” She, of course, rather wishes he weren’t quite so fast, and would instead return at once to China and take up missionary work. And he will, in due course, do exactly that. But he will not be denied such pleasures as only God can give, and so he chooses to run.
“I believe that God made me for a purpose,” he tells his sister. “He made me fast. And when I run I feel his pleasure.”In the meantime, he will be put to the test, which, in his case, will not be physical, not a matter of mere endurance or strength, but moral. It will not consist of earning this or that medal pinned proudly upon his chest, but whether or not he will race at all. Only if he can meet that challenge, the most exacting of all, will he be worthy of the prize. It is perhaps the most important litmus test of his life and character. Will he agree to race on the Sabbath, or not? That is the question. If the only available day on the schedule falls on the Sabbath, and all the powers that be, including the Prince of Wales himself, are urging him to do so, how will he decide?
Only if he answers that question in a way that does justice to God, will he be worthy of the prize that matters most. “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength,” he tells the congregation at a Church of Scotland service in Paris that Sunday afternoon. “They shall mount up with wings as eagles. They shall run and not be weary.”
See the movie and find out. You won’t be disappointed. Oh, yes, and there were no chariots set on fire while filming it.