I am writing this on Ascension Thursday. It is a strange feast where we seem to celebrate Jesus leaving. He ascends to heaven and away from earth. Christianity seems all too heavenly. Heaven’s the place to go, and earth’s a place to leave. On the other hand, Ascension is really earthy, just like Christianity too. A man of flesh and blood, made from the earth itself, ascends to the highest.
So, which is it? Heavenly or earthly? Having just finished Matthew Becklo’s The Way of Heaven and Earth: From Either/Or to the Catholic Both/And, I feel confident that the answer is both. Ascension, as with the whole Catholic tradition, is not about falling into a binary of heaven and earth but ascending with both. Becklo helps us enter this way of heaven and earth—which is, as he explains, the Catholic way.
It is easy to fall into binary thinking where we have contrasting ideas and feel compelled to pick between them. Whether we invert or affirm these binaries, we often feel stuck with them. For Becklo, “everywhere we turn, we’re tempted into an either/or.” And we end up choosing “one way at the expense of the other.” Such binaries include spiritual or physical, providence or freedom and contemplation or action. And “when one side of a dilemma dominates our thinking, the other side will eventually build up, explode through our conscious controls and wreak new havoc.” From Gnosticism to modernism, a lot of church history can be understood in light of this.
The fundamental binary, according to Becklo, centers on heaven-earth dilemmas. We are faced with a choice between the vertical and the horizontal, the spiritual and the corporeal, the idealistic and the realistic. But the challenge is not picking a side of the binary; it’s living out both. We can do so only in Christ: “our heaven-earth dilemmas are only resolved in Christ, the way of heaven and earth.”
Becklo does not think that a both/and framework eliminates the distinction between the heavenly and earthly. Rather, it shows that they can be united without confusion or separation. Thus “the heavens and the earth connect with each other. Despite its clear contrast, they cannot be neatly divided, each in its own separate self-contained space.” Christ, and his body, the church, are the way to live out this connection.
He forms each chapter on the vertical, the horizontal and then the cruciform. It is a clever and Christocentric way to structure his book, showing the unity of the seemingly disparate. At the same time, this strategy can feel formulaic over the course of the book. He could have united some of the chapters and in the process made the book a little shorter and more compelling, especially for the lay reader. His chapters are also perhaps too focused on the church itself and not evangelical enough. A non-Christian would be lost in some of these both/ands.
Becklo lives out his both/and philosophy in his writing. With each binary, we find a deeply sympathetic reading. Whether dealing with Gnostics, moderns, Pelagians or Protestants, Becklo is willing to learn and take what he can. He writes with the spirit of Thomas Aquinas, never afraid to find wisdom wherever it may lie.
Though his readings of rival traditions are understandably brief, they are generally quite fair. When I first saw Descartes’s name, I was ready for a standard dismissive take—but got something much different. Becklo is no Cartesian, but he sees the wisdom in Descartes’s intellectual project. His take on Descartes was not groundbreaking, but it was more importantly fair, and thus allows one to learn from one of the bogeymen of the Catholic intellectual tradition.
Likewise, his engagement with liberation theology is nuanced. He sees, as Joseph Ratzinger did, that while some liberation theologians go very wrong, many have made rich and orthodox contributions to Catholic thought. Becklo contrasts liberation theology with quietism in an unexpected but insightful way. While quietism too quickly resigns itself to the heavenly, liberation theology too easily becomes focused on earthly politics. Becklo sees the deep good in quietism’s reliance on God and in liberation theology’s work for justice and prophetic witness for the poor.
He similarly navigates well the question of salvation—whether one believes it comes only through the church or accepts a radical inclusivism that degrades the centrality of baptism and Christ. The “way of hope refuses both despair and presumption, and it extends that hope to the whole of humanity.” Salvation is only through Christ and the church, but we hope in the God of salvation for all through Christ.
While Becklo admirably draws his readers into the way of heaven and earth, I fear his book might at times be too irenic. There is time for choosing. Christianity introduces a crisis into our life—as in a fundamental moment of decision. “I place before you life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life that you may live” (Dt 30: 19). Christ separates those who chose him in serving the least of these from those who chose to serve themselves. Paul is clear that we must put on Christ or fall. And, as St. Thomas of Villanova puts it, “if you wish to be a friend of God, you must be an enemy of the world.”
There is wisdom in the both/and, but is it more central than the Christian either/or? Becklo does express this requirement for decision in his conclusion, but it needs stronger emphasis. Catholicism is a both/and religion, true, but that puts before us some strong binaries between having faith in Christ or not, between serving the least of these or not, between living according to the City of God or according to the City of Man. Becklo’s book could use a bit more of the prophetic demand to help us see the radical urgency of his both/and.
Despite this, I hope his book will fall into the hands of more people. It is not just a piece of theology or apologetics. It is meant to form us into a way of being that would enrich our lives and deepen our being Catholic.
The Way of Heaven and Earth is also a resource for those of us torn between false either/ors, especially in our polarizing times. It is especially fitting that this book was published near the beginning of Leo XIV’s papacy. Leo XIV calls the world to bridge-building, both between heaven and earth but also between Christians and among all people of good will. Becklo’s book reminds us that this bridge-building between polarities is at the heart of Christianity, which is itself a faith of ascension to heaven in union with the earth. The Way of Heaven and Earth is the way of Christ, who ascends in his earthly body to his heavenly home so that we too may join him on the way and in the ultimate union of, as Revelation says, “a new heaven and a new earth.”
This article appears in March 2026.
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