One of the most irritating aspects of the post-Conciliar Church has been the shifting of saints' feasts. The ostensible object of this "saint-shuffling" has been to locate a given feast on the day of the saint's death, and also to remove saints from the seasons of Advent and Lent, in order to focus more single-mindedly on Christ. For instance, St. Vincent de Paul was moved from July 19 to September 27, the anniversary of his death. The same has happened to St. John of the Cross, St. Rose of Lima and others. But if this has been the plan, it has not worked out very consistently. St. Jane Frances de Chantal died on December 13, but that date is already occupied by St. Lucy, who has several centuries of seniority and cannot be expected to yield. So Jane Frances is taken from August 21 and pushed into December 12, which is already the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe and remains so, thus creating a slight overcrowding. Poor St. John Chrysostom, who suffered much from exile and enforced travel, is not left in peace even in death, but is sent on a forced march from January 27, his feast since time immemorial, to September. Even then he cannot have his own anniversary, September 14, since that day is the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross; so John has to settle for the day preceding—the same indignity endured by St. Jane Frances. January 27 is the anniversary of the translation of St. John Chrysostom's body and is considered less important than the day of his death. Yet exactly the opposite happens to Thomas Aquinas, who has been thrust out of the anniversary of his death (March 7) and deposited on January 28, the anniversary of his translation to Toulouse. The change of St. Thomas's feast seems to be in line with the desire to remove saints from Lent. Yet Sts. Perpetua and Felicity, along with St. John of God, have been left in early March. Presumably Sts. Perpetua and Felicity and John of God are more helpful in meditating on the Passion of Christ than St. Thomas Aquinas.

All this by way of saying that the "reform" of the calendar was a mistake and resulted in disruption and confusion. Traditional Catholics are well advised to retain the unreformed calendar, since it is in no need of reform. Thus we retain March 7 as the Feast of St. Thomas Aquinas, the Angelic Doctor, and accord him place of honor in this month's issue of THE ANGELUS.

The details of Thomas's life may seem dull to us, concerned as they are almost entirely with the Dominican Order and with university life in the thirteenth century. He was born about the year 1225 in his family's castle at Roccasecca, near Aquino in the area of Naples. His father was not, as often stated, Count of Aquino, but a member of the minor nobility. As a small child, Thomas was entrusted to the Benedictine monks of nearby Monte Cassino for his earliest education. In his early teens he went to study at the University of Naples. There, aged about nineteen, he took the habit of the Order of St. Dominic, much against the wishes of his family. In appearance he was tall and heavy, with a fair complexion, tending to taciturnity—hence his nickname, the Dumb Ox. From Naples, he went on to study with St. Albert the Great at Paris and Cologne. Returning to Paris, he received his Licentiate in Theology and shortly thereafter, the degree of Master of Theology, entitling him to teach. Teaching, writing and other duties occupied him for the next few years. He obtained a doctorate in theology when Pope Alexander IV decreed that the mendicant friars should be admitted to that honor. He also taught at the Pontifical Curia in Rome. In 1274 he was teaching in Naples. From there he was summoned by Pope Gregory X to attend the Council of Lyons and take part in the agenda of reconciling the Greek and Latin Catholics. On the way he fell ill and died at the Cistercian monastery of Fossanuova. He was canonized in 1323, and Pope Pius V ranked him with the four great doctors of the Latin Church: Ambrose, Augustine, Jerome and Gregory. Pope Leo XIII in 1879 directed that Catholic theology should be based on the teachings of St. Thomas, calling him "the prince and master of all scholastic doctors."

St. Thomas was fortunate in enjoying during his relatively short life (less than fifty years) great success and recognition. Bishops, popes, universities and religious orders all sought his counsel. This is in sharp contrast to other great churchmen, such as St. John Chrysostom, Pope St. Gregory VII and Cardinal Newman, who in different ways suffered much for their defense of the Catholic Church.

Of the countless things that could be said about St. Thomas, we can consider here only a few: the nature of scholasticism, the relation of faith to reason, and the question of development in Catholic tradition, especially in light of Vatican II.

It has become fashionable today—almost de rigueur—to say that the scholastic method was useful in its time but that Catholicism must expand its horizons and embrace systems of thought more suited to the needs of our own day. The weakness in that proposition is that it has been condemned. Pope Pius IX included this in his Syllabus of Errors, saying in 1864 that it was false to claim that "the method and principles of the ancient scholastic doctors were not suited to the needs of our times and the progress of science." It is the old hydra-headed monster of Modernism cropping up all over again. Of course, in enthroning the scholastic method, the Church never meant to condemn all others ipso facto. Scientific research of whatever kind enjoys the patronage of the Church, if not aimed at undermining the Faith. Inevitably an over-emphasis on Thomism led to the false assumption that not to be a Thomist was to be virtually a heretic.

In the words of The Catholic Encyclopedia (1912 edition), "Scholasticism does not consist, as some imagine, in useless discussions and subtleties, but in this, that it expresses sound doctrine in language which is accurate, clear and concise. In the Encyclical Aeterni Patris Leo XIII delcares that to the right use of philosophy we are indebted for 'those noble endowments which made scholastic theology so formidable to the enemies of truth,' because 'that ready coherence of cause and effect, that order and array of a disciplined army in battle, those clear definitions and distinctions, that strength of argument and those keen discussions by which light is distinguished from darkness, the true from the false, expose and lay bare, as it were, the falsehoods of heretics wrapped around by a cloud of subterfuges and fallacies.' When the great Scholastics had written, there was light where there had been darkness, there was order where confusion had prevailed. The work of St. Anselm and of Peter Lombard was perfected by the scholastic theologians. Since their days no substantial improvements have been made in the plan and system of theology, although the field of apologetics has been widened, and positive theology has become more important." It could scarcely be said any better. So much stereotype has given scholasticism a bad name. Where, for instance, can the argument be documented as to how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?

One of the most frequent charges leveled against the scholastic method is that it excludes the free exercise of reason, by giving faith a prior claim on our assent. Such an attitude is understandable on the part of a non-believer, and it is precisely this attitude that St. Thomas addresses in his Summa Contra Gentiles. In this, says the sympathetic Encyclopedia Britannica, "the chief work of the Middle Ages on natural theology, St. Thomas attempts to meet the view and objections of non-Christians by clearly distinguishing the spheres of natural reason and faith. Reason and faith are both concerned with the same object, but in different ways; the former starts from sense-date, and attains to a knowledge of the existence, unity, the goodness, the intelligence and the will of God; the latter rests on revelation and authority, and attains to a knowledge of God as a purely spiritual Being, e.g., a Being with a Trinity of Persons. Each requires to take into account the knowledge arrived at by the other, and, on account of the difference in their methods, there need be no fear of contamination; they cannot be confused and they should not be isolated. Of the two, faith is the more important, because it bestows on man a knowledge which he could not ordinarily possess, and thus is said to transcend reason. True reason and faith can never be contradictory, for they both come from the same source of all truth, God, the Absolute One."

In the first article of the Summa Theologica, St. Thomas, "proves that, besides the knowledge which reason affords, revelation also is necessary for salvation, first, because without it men could not know the supernatural end to which they must tend by their voluntary acts; secondly, because, without revelation, even the truths concerning God which could be proved by reason would be known only by a few, after a long time, and with the admixture of many errors. When revealed truths have been accepted, the mind proceeds to explain them and to draw conclusions from them. Hence results theology, which is a science, because it proceeds from principles that are certain. The object, or subject, of this science is God; other things are treated in it only insofar as they relate to God. Reason is used in theology not to prove the truths of faith, which are accepted on the authority of God, but to defend, explain, and develope the doctrines revealed." So says The Catholic Encyclopedia (1912).

Much could be made of the argument that, since St. Thomas introduced a reform in the Faith of his day—by adapting the teaching of Aristotle to Catholic doctrine—so the idea of reform as exemplified by Vatican II is not unprecedented and should not be viewed with such suspicion by conservative and traditional Catholics. A closer look at that hypothesis should be instructive.

What St. Thomas did with Aristotle is indeed amazing. The works of Aristotle had begun to appear in faulty translations (having been first translated from Greek into Arabic by the Moors in Spain, then into Latin), accompanied by misleading commentaries of Jewish and Moorish philosophers. Errors crept into the schools at an alarming rate and led to some of Aristotle being banned from the classroom. Irreverence and rationalism spread at the University of Paris, and the dangerous idea appeared that, since philosophy and religion were two different principles, what is true in one could be false in the other. Thomas Aquinas undertook to purify the study of Aristotle by obtaining correct translations and by refuting false commentators, especially Averroes, a Spanish Moor of the preceding century.

His next task was to harness reason and philosophy in the service of theology. He did this by putting Catholic doctrine into systematic, scientific form. Thus was born his great Summa Theologica. He modestly considered it only a manual for the use of students. But with it he achieved a vast and complete synthesis of Christian doctrine, set forth according to coherent philosophical principles and in clear, consistent terminology, the whole structure of part-leading-to-the-next-logical-part lifting the soul to God, like the soaring and spacious cathedrals, which were rising in the same era in which St. Thomas lived.

The innovations St. Thomas undertook were for the purpose of strengthening, clarifying and defending the traditional Catholic faith, as in the Feast of Corpus Christi. Such a liturgical feast was new in Christendom; the doctrine of the Real Presence was not. It is, in fact, explicit in the New Testament. The new feast was designed to give greater emphasis and clarity to the old truth. In a broader sense, the same may be said of everything St. Thomas did. He pressed a new philosophical method into the service of the immemorial faith, thus earning the gratitude of all subsequent ages.

Angelus readers have noted in these pages frequent references, especially in Michael Davies's articles, to the fact that many of the so-called reforms of Vatican II have no basis in the texts of the Council—e.g., removal of the tabernacle from the high altar. These moves are carried out in the name of the Council—however unjustifiably—so it becomes academic to argue whether they are justified by the original documents. It is very much to the point, however, to argue whether questions like removing the tabernacle and giving Communion in the hand are consistent with the Faith we have inherited and which we are to hand on to others. If not, it is our duty to resist such innovations. Just as changing the dates of saints' feasts disrupts traditional observance and achieves no visible good, so changes in eucharistic practice in the post-Conciliar Church are doing great harm to Catholic beliefs. At almost any parish in this country any or all of the following can be verified: talking and laughing in view of the tabernacle (when it is visible at all), failure to genuflect, disregard of Confession before Holy Communion in the case of serious sin, disregard of the eucharistic fast, carelessness in handling the altar linens, and even the sacred vessels, failure to teach children essential Catholic doctrine regarding the Mass and the Eucharist, etc., etc.

Some will argue that Christ is present in the community as well as in the Blessed Sacrament, that the Church has neglected this truth in the past and should now compensate for the neglect. But the price paid for such compensation is much too high: it is nothing less than diminishing belief in the Real Presence of Christ in the Blessed Sacrament. Is it worth losing that for the sake of a vague sense of participation (in what?), togetherness, or whatever? So we close this discussion with the obvious conclusion that St. Thomas's efforts toward reform were in defense of the Faith. The "reforms" stemming from Vatican II are destroying the Faith and therefore cannot be authentically Catholic.

One fact sometimes forgotten about St. Thomas is that he was a man of intense prayer and devotion above all toward Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament. During his lifetime, the Feast of Corpus Christi was instituted by Pope Urban IV, to stress Catholic belief in the Real Presence and to combat the heresy which denied it. St. Thomas is credited with composing the entire Mass and Office of Corpus Christi, an extraordinary honor. He experienced frequent ecstasies, especially toward the end of his life. When he lay dying at Fossa Nuova, and Holy Viaticum was brought to him, he said, "If in this world there be any knowledge of this sacrament stronger than that of faith, I wish now to use it in affirming that I firmly believe and know as certain that Jesus Christ, True God and True Man, Son of God and Son of the Virgin Mary, is in this Sacrament. I receive Thee, the price of my Redemption, for Whose love I have watched, studied and labored. Thee have I preached; Thee have I taught. Never have I said anything against Thee; if anything was not well said, that is to be attributed to my ignorance. Neither do I wish to be obstinate in my opinions, but if I have written anything erroneous concerning this sacrament or other matters, I submit all to the judgment and correction of the Holy Roman Church, in whose obedience I now pass from this life." It was Wednesday, March 7, 1274.