The Shack and Friedrich Schleiermacher

America magazine has a review of William Paul Young's The Shack. Not surprisingly, they get it wrong: instead of a substantive critique, a lame endorsement. What it amounts to is, relationships are important! God is about relationships! and, this book arrives at the right time!

Because, if there is anything our world needs today, it is more anti-institutional simplification about religion that reduces it to an experience of relationship and a feeling of trust. The reviewer notes, of course, that few Christians understand the Trinity:

[a] mystery,” “beyond comprehension,” “impossible to understand fully”—these are some of the phrases Christians use to describe the Holy Trinity, a central tenet of the faith. I once overheard an adult initiation sponsor tell a catechist, “You don’t need to worry about the Trinity. Not even priests understand that.” The Trinity is an essential doctrine, yet few of us know much about it or its significance to our lives.

Karl Rahner said something similar almost fifty years ago. So is the answer really the edifying themes the books presents: God is interested in our lives; we encounter God in our pain; forgiveness is possible?

What is the Catholic response to such a tremendously popular work of pop-devotion? Well, this last year I had to read it as part of a faculty-wide discussion at the school I taught at. And I arrived home this summer to hear it mentioned in a homily, and learned that discussion groups at the parish were meeting to talk about this "inspirational" text.

On a related note, recently having enjoyed gleaming the witty site, www.stuffchristianculturelikes.com, I've been thinking about the theological problems (despite real strengths I admire) Evangelical Christianity runs into. And of course, since Catholics today seem to have almost complete ignorance of the riches of their tradition, grasping for any kind of support for their faith in today's world, they usually reach for whatever was popular in Evangelical culture last year. Now, it's The Shack. The above mentioned blog tamely mocks the propensity Evangelical culture has for these kind of books: it's The Shack, a few years ago it was the Left Behind detritus, before that it was Frank Peretti, before that Hal Lindsey, etc.

The response you usually get when asking a director of religious education about the wisdom of using such a book is, it's not perfect but at least it's reaching people and getting them interested.

At least it's reaching people and getting them interested.

Let me see if I can pull my thoughts together succinctly on The Shack, problems within Evangelical Protestantism, and Catholics using less-than-ideal materials to "get folks interested."

The key to all this is the dominant influence of Schleiermachian Christianity. You might respond, if he's the dominant influence, how come I've never heard of Friedrich Schleiermacher? Like a lot of consequences in history, the prime mover if you will is often undetected. In short, he was a German Protestant theologian who felt threatened by the Enlightenment's criticisms of Christianity. So he reduced Christianity to an experience of feeling, which science couldn't touch. i.e. Christianity now takes its departure from subjective experience, specifically, the feeling of "absolute dependency." This was well and great, but the 20th century realized that lots of other beliefs can induce feelings of trust, love, sympathy, etc. Thence you have mainstream Protestantism seizing on social justice as Christianity's sole unique contribution to human welfare. (Which of course was not unique, which is why mainstream Protestantism is two feet in the grave.) Conservative protestants resisted this, first intellectually under Barth and Bultmann, then popularly (and nearly exclusively by Americans) by means of Biblical fundamentalism.

Passing by a somewhat complicated history these last 100 years, now we have in America a majority of non-denominational Evangelical Protestants. You can probably include a lot of Pentecostals, Open Bible, and Baptists in that mix as well. The differences aren't so important anymore, as are the common features: little emphasis on dogma and historical creeds; largely unconcerned with the debates of the Reformation (i.e. post-Reformation); not much emphasis on the sacraments; very little emphasis on the liturgy within the traditional experience of Christianity (whether early-Church, Catholic, Byzantine, Lutheran, Methodist, or contrarily Anabaptist, Brethren, Quaker, etc.); emphasis reading Scripture alone and within small groups, with a particular slant to "how does this speak to me?"; a "church experience" gathering as a congregation in order to sing contemporary "praise & worship", hear a sermon--usually on a chapter or section from Scripture--and perhaps to be prayed over and more rarely experience the charismatic "gifts of the Holy Spirit".

But most of what happens in Evangelical Christianity is not only extra-liturgical, but extra-ecclesial. By that I mean, most of your average Evangelical's "faith-life" is devotional, happens outside the actual physical church, and got at by means of popular Christian literature. If non-fiction, it employs the method of relating a multitude of stories and personal examples in order to illustrate a few salient points, with little theological or even logical development. The point is to get the reader to "relate it to their experience." The points are rather simple, as in, institutions can be impediments to spreading the Gospel, selfishness is the main problem in most marriages, good stewardship will be rewarded, impurity is a bad habit and therefore cannot be cured by a mere good intention, God loves us despite out sinfulness. Again, the importance isn't so much on the theological rectitude of the idea, but how well it can get readers to "relate" it to their "faith-journey".

Of course, this isn't all bad, and there can be impressive stories and worthwhile points in such literature. I submit that the greater problem remains, however: it is the mode by which these books communicate, and the way they form the reader to expect a certain result from reading the book. Similarly, all the number of hip or fashionable stuff Christian culture likes almost always follows from the same logic:

in order to successfully communicate the Gospel, I've got to get my audience to relate to what I'm saying, to identify it within their own experience, and ultimately to bring about an experience of greater trust and even a fundamental decision to commit to the Gospel.

If you're familiar with a lot of post-conciliar Catholic religious education literature and methodology, this may sound familiar. Both it and elements in Evangelical protestantism in truth presuppose the same understanding of Christianity.

This understanding says, faith consists in a decision to follow God/the Gospel, or as a continual decision to keep believing, and grows as an experience and feeling of closeness and integration. Again, the point is not, is the subject objectively changed or became a different kind of person, but do they feel or experience their life as different now that they have decided to follow God.

The Catholic understanding is different. It is neither voluntaristic, nor sentimental. Which is to say, the approaches mentioned above (that dominate much of Evangelical protestantism and diocesan religious education) are anti-intellectual and gnostic/dualistic.

The Catholic understanding says that faith is primarily a habit of the intellect, even if the will is involved; that the intellect is a prime partner in conversion and the progression to a commitment to the Gospel; that we believe, not primarily because it feels good, or we can "relate", or even because we can experience as of right now a different kind of life, but because the Gospel is true. The former attributes can be a part of conversion, but they are subsidiary.

(One can make a similar analysis of love: there is the sentimental, subjective, and voluntaristic modern account of love, and there is the Catholic account that says it is either a passion, or an act of right relationship, that has certain objective qualities and conditions, where one wills the good of an other for their own sake, because they are seen as desirable/good/worthy of love.)

Preaching the Gospel therefore is not primarily about "relating to the audience" or "relevancy" or pointing to what is authentic in the recipient's own life; it is indeed about discovering the truth about a relationship, that the recipient is not in right relation with God, and must get in right relation. This is why religion is formally a matter of justice; and even if it is more than that, it must begin with or at least retain this element.

Preaching the Gospel deals with objective facts and contexts. It requires the recipient to evaluate his life and experience, true enough, but in order to bring to the light of truth what is false, and to see what is true and bears on his life as immediate and imperative, God's summons to repent and follow him (i.e. evaluation presupposes an objective standard or context from without, else it is solipsistic). As the convert grows in devotion, it is the objective standard of the residing disproportion between what God is calling him to and how he is still acting, and the objective truth that God always loves him and is indeed calling him and helping him to change, that helps him to grow. Furthermore, preaching the Gospel leads to an eventual understanding of what is objective and factual, namely the revelation of Jesus Christ, that inspires hope, and more importantly, greater and greater love, in order to act more and more in conformity with God's (objective) will, and respond with adoration, gratitude, supplication, and continued contrition to God. (Another interesting side point: when someone says, "it's God's will for me" as a reason, ask him, "how do you know?" In other words, how do we know God's will? If it becomes synonomous with how I am feeling, than real discernment is impossible. The right way to discern begins with the objective resources for knowing God's will as primary--the Decalogue, the Beatitudes, human nature, the evangelical counsels, morality, etc.)

Finally, the life of the Christian consists most importantly in now offering such right adoration to God, which is done by joining the prayer of Christ the High Priest, who offers his life to the Father once and for all, by means of the Liturgy. The Liturgy then is primarily about this right relation (not primarily about whether we can relate, or feel a certain way, or have it identify with our experience, even if these have at times a subsidiary role). In other words, we should be conformed to the Liturgy, not the Liturgy should be conformed to us. And this is indeed something objective, something we can know.

It might be an oversimplification to say the Schleiermachian way determines that the intellect follow the will (i.e. the emotions, since as a matter a fact the will is no self-starter), and the Catholic or orthodox way determines that the will follow the intellect, but I think it summarizes my point well.

Again, what matters foremost is not whether the congregants/students/retreatents/etc. feel that they are closer to God, but whether they indeed are in right relation to God.

If we become slaves to what is hip and fashionable (distressed jeans/rock music/coffee shops/giant projector screens), we run the risk that the medium becomes the message, and we make the Gospel a matter of feeling. If it feels relevant, if I can relate to it (which is nothing other than saying, this reminds me of what I already know!), there is nothing new here. For the Gospel must always, at all costs and imperatively, retain its character of newness, of surprise. If there is nothing new here, than there is nothing here that I need, nor anything here that can save me: therefore, Christianity is superfluous, and probably a waste of time.

Rather, it is communicating the Gospel in all its newness and imperative nature that is the task of the minister/preacher/evangelist. And not primarily by means of emotional persuasion, but intellectual persuasion (believe, it's true!). The love and affection of an other can open a door, and here perhaps we run the least risk of submitting to relevancy and feeling, for few things are more permanent on this earth than the presence of loved ones and relationships. But even in any given relationship, that love can fail, that affection can die off, that relationship can grow cold. And if the Gospel was accepted on condition of that relation, faith may suffer a mortal blow as well. If faith is nothing else than a feeling of total dependency, it resides on nothing more substantial than my own felt condition.

As for The Shack, there is indeed many points inside that are salutary and helpful. But ultimately, the modus operandi of the book is, inspire a feeling, reduce what is objective and certain to the rule of "does this inspire me?" and "can I relate to it?" Perhaps the nuggets of Trinitarian theology inside can lead to a greater understanding of one's faith, but the problem is, this is not how the book itself approaches it. The very story presupposes that any message is ultimately conditioned on the recipient's own needs, proclivities, and feelings. There is a grain of truth there (whatever is received is received according to the mode of the receiver), but truth is finally the adequation of the mind to reality. And I think this is why Christianity is not communicated to us primarily by means of art or literature, but by history (Jesus Christ really lived and left this inexplicable movement), by objective personal testimony (see what Christ has done in my life), and by the communication of imperative news (I have news of the utmost importance: God created you, and has called you...).

And once accepted and believed, Christianity grows in the life of the believer principally by means of the Liturgy. By joining in this prayer, with my brothers and sisters, in fact outside of time (can't get any more objective than that), even if performed in time, where Heaven really and truly is present, I am transformed. And not by means of, if it jibes with my feelings, or experience, or "where I'm at", is it effective. Such is the common misunderstanding of Christian experience in liberal Catholicism, which sees no objective need (only congruence) for things like sacraments, rites, rubrics, cult, priests, ritual, matter, etc.

Note well the weakness of this current within Evangelical protestantism (despite its many strengths and the things it gets right). This kind of methodology leads to a subjective, syncretistic, sentimental church. Preaching the truth in and out of season (keeping in mind the correlative truth that HOW we preach does matter, and we need to know our audience, their needs, strengths, weaknesses, and that strong meat should not be given to babes, etc.), leading congregants to an understanding of the truth, and an ability to discern whether they are in right relation with God, and a desire to have an authentic, objective experience of God (liturgy and mysticism), is what really works in the long run.

The Christopher West controversy: a different take, by way of St. Thomas Aquinas and St. Francis de Sales

Throughout the whole debate over the strengths and weaknesses of Chris West’s approach to teaching Theology of the Body, there has frequently been reference on the critical side to his failure to appreciate the reality of concupiscence. Such is implied by West’s popular injunction to be able to look at a naked woman and see her as a person and not an object to be used. In fact, West does qualify such points, and does mention that chastity is a process, involving a certain degree of detachment and prudence. Nonetheless, the emphasis is on how a chaste relationship of love, through the sacrament of marriage, is a power to heal the pull of concupiscence. (I am not attending to other questions raised by West’s analysis, including his portrayal of the sexual revolution, and possible over-emphasis on the sexual act as the hermeneutic key to anthropology and possibly the Trinity.) David Schindler has accused West of stressing purity of intention to the detriment of the objective inclination to sin that remains in this fallen world, and in our flesh, which demand prudence and ascesis. West cautions not to downplay the transformative power of grace. Michael Waldstein (a former professor of mine) has qualified West’s emphasis, stressing,

in the sexual sphere, true growth in virtue is possible; virtue can overcome the tendency to sin, though objective concupiscence and the consequent danger of sin remain real. The path to virtue leads through deep awareness of the spousal meaning of the body and through authentic growth in love. "Love, and then do what you want!" says St. Augustine, who is (wrongly) invoked as the father of both Puritanism and Jansenism.

Waldstein invokes the bogeyman of Jansenism several times, going so far as to imply that Schindler and West’s other critics may have a too pessimistic vision of the human person and their capacity for change in this area. This seems to be a straw man. Louis Dupré has written about how most authors who throw out the Jansenism card exhibit little understanding of the movement, which in fact was not at all homogeneous but complex and embroiled within the drama of post-reformation French Catholicism. In many ways, what some call “Jansenism” was simply orthodoxy; the word became an argument ad hominem that conveniently avoided dealing with the actual issues. It is very easy to accuse American Catholicism of Jansenist beginnings; it is difficult to actually define terms and substantiate historical generalizations. Depending on what is cited, most of the great saints of 18th and 19th century Catholicism cautioned against the fomes pecatti in ways that might seem Jansenistic—but that is only because that term has ceased to have any precise historical or theological meaning.

Does the path to chastity lie primarily through a deep awareness, meaning a conscious understanding, of the spousal meaning of the body? Is authentic growth in love primarily a matter of intention?

Well, let’s look at the traditional teaching of two Doctors of the Church on this matter. As much as I have read, they seem to faithfully recapitulate the Patristic teaching on growing in chastity.

The first is St. Thomas Aquinas. In his short work, On the Perfection of the Spiritual Life, there is a chapter titled, “Helps on preserving chastity.” He begins by outlining his approach:

Since chastity is so difficult a virtue that, in Our Lord’s words, not all men “take it,” but those only “to whom it is given,” it is necessary for those who desire to live a life of continence, so to conduct themselves as to avoid all that might prove an obstacle in the prosecution of their design. Now there are three principal hindrances to continence. The first arises from the body. The second from the mind. The third from external circumstances, whether they be of persons or of things.

In the Summa Theologiae, St. Thomas considers chastity as primarily to do with the moderation of venereal pleasures, as acts of touch, therefore falling under prudence. He seems to quote Augustine approvingly when he says,

Venereal pleasures are more impetuous, and are more oppressive on the reason than the pleasures of the palate: and therefore they are in greater need of chastisement and restraint, since if one consent to them this increases the force of concupiscence and weakens the strength of the mind. Hence Augustine says (Soliloq. i, 10): "I consider that nothing so casts down the manly mind from its heights as the fondling of women, and those bodily contacts which belong to the married state." (ST II-II.151.3.ad.2)

St. Thomas assumes with the tradition that those desiring to be perfect will give up marriage for virginity; he does not have the benefit of the modern tradition of vocation that might qualify such an enthusiastic endorsement. Nonetheless, it is fair to say he is echoing the tradition here. The ingenuity of Pope John Paul's Theology of the Body lies in its proposal that marriage as such can be a specific path to holiness, and chastity can be acquired in virtue of that state, not in spite of it.

Let's continue: chastity is a difficult virtue, and although lust is not as grave as other sin, because of its attractiveness, its sensual immediateness, it ensnares more people than any other vice. St. Thomas takes seriously the imperative need for fighting such a danger, and so he proposes strong counsels.

The first hindrance to preserving chastity comes from the body, the law in our members fighting against the law in our minds. This is condition of the flesh lusting against the spirit, where concupiscence is most acutely felt. St. Thomas cautions, the more the body is pampered with pleasure, the more the inclination to sin will increase. Like bending a bent reed back to center, more pressure most be exerted in light of the weakness of the flesh. Therefore, we must chastise the body, abstaining from immediate pleasures as much as we can. St. Thomas reiterates the Patristic counsel that when it comes to lust, trying to stay and fight is to concede defeat--with this temptation, the remedy is always to flee the occasion of sin. However, there are other desires concerning touch that we can fight by concentrating our minds--like food, sleep, warmth--and by doing this, indirectly strengthen our ability to withstand sexual temptation.
St. Thomas begins with the hindrance of the body, and the remedies against it, because this area is the most fundamental for beginning growth in chastity. If one would not first chastise the body in other ways, even the best intentions will go astray, due to the power of the flesh. Rather than a gnostic disdain for the body, St. Thomas seems to take the body's role quite seriously.

The second hindrance is the mind. This primarily has to do with dwelling on unchaste thoughts, or merely, carnal gratification. Again the counsel is, flee don't fight. Try to keep the mind attentive upon God, thinking of him as much as we can. We should frequently read Scripture when we have down time. In general, we should always prefer to think of good and noble things, ignoring what is base and carnal. Especially, we should shun idleness, and spend time in physical labor (relating again to the first hindrance).

The third hindrance is external circumstance. Here St. Thomas mentions the danger of frequently associating with women. It is natural for us, as animals, to desire to be with the opposite sex. Therefore we must use caution, for frequent association will give rise to those instinctual desires within us. Quoting the book of Sirach, St. Thomas is content to advise, do not gaze on everyone's beauty; do not tarry among women. When association is unavoidable, modesty of the eyes will help prevent lustful desires. He ends by referring to Abbot Moses's advice for how to spend one's time instead: in solitude, fasting, vigils, bodily labor, reading.

To briefly refer to another authority, in his Introduction to the Devout Life, St. Francis de Sales offers a similar teaching: "purity has its source in the heart, but it is in the body that its material results take shape, and therefore it may be forfeited both by the exterior senses and by the thoughts and desires of the heart."

Can these counsels be applied to the married state?

St. Francis has this to say to the married:

If you, husbands, would have your wives faithful, be it yours to set them the example. "How have you the face to exact purity from your wives," asks Saint Gregory Nazianzen, "if you yourself live an impure life? or how can you require that which you do not give in return? If you would have them chaste, let your own conduct to them be chaste. Saint Paul bids you possess your vessel in sanctification; but if, on the contrary, you teach them evil, no wonder that they dishonour you. And ye, O women! whose honour is inseparable from modesty and purity, preserve it jealously, and never allow the smallest speck to soil the whiteness of your reputation."

As for the marriage bed itself, St. Francis seems content to let us read between the lines:

The marriage bed should be undefiled, as the Apostle tells us, i.e. pure, as it was when it was first instituted in the earthly Paradise, wherein no unruly desires or impure thought might enter. All that is merely earthly must be treated as means to fulfil the end God sets before His creatures. Thus we eat in order to preserve life, moderately, voluntarily, and without seeking an undue, unworthy satisfaction therefrom. "The time is short," says Saint Paul; "it remaineth that both they that have wives be as though they had not, and they that use this world, as not abusing it."

Let every one, then, use this world according to his vocation, but so as not to entangle himself with its love, that he may be as free and ready to serve God as though he used it not. Saint Augustine says that it is the great fault of men to want to enjoy things which they are only meant to use, and to use those which they are only meant to enjoy. We ought to enjoy spiritual things, and only use those which are material; but when we turn the use of these latter into enjoyment, the reasonable soul becomes degraded to a mere brutish level.

In light of what St. Francis recommends, similar advice as St. Thomas's can be given to the married: do not let the weakness of your flesh and its desires allow you to inordinately seek sexual pleasure, and to protect against this, chastise the body; do not dwell on sexual thoughts, even of your wife, for even if this is allowed, it will have the effect of making a habit of preferring sensual thoughts to higher and noble ones; avoid looking at the opposite sex, especially their bodies, and avoid frequent association with the opposite sex, besides your spouse; as for your spouse, do not dwell on her body, but dwell instead on the beauty of your spouse's mind and heart.

Is this a disparagement of the dignity of the body, and therefore the person? Is it a failure to appreciate the transformative power of grace, and sexuality within marriage as a means of grace? I don't think the counsels mentioned above preclude a further remedy of trying to intentionally realize the the nature of the gift of self within the sexual act, seeing the spouse as a subject and not an object to be used. One can see sexuality as holy, good, and even sacramental, and still appreciate the weakness of the flesh, and the ease at which lust can creep in. Regardless, certainly St. Thomas and St. Francis, who accurately reflect the consensus of the tradition on this point, seem to judge chastity just as much a matter of fighting concupiscence and vigilantly seeking detachment and ascesis in order to avoid the pull that the lust of the flesh can have. Whether or not Chris West gives sufficient consideration to this tradition, I think this is some of what David Schindler had in mind. And if I understand him correctly, this is the theological work that needs to be done: uniting Pope John Paul's emphasis on the intentional understanding of the gift of self signified and actualized by the body, and the tradition's emphasis on the reality of concupiscence and the need to exercise caution and ascesis against the flesh.

Letter to a lukewarm American Catholic (foremost myself)

At an earlier time in your life, you went to Mass, perhaps prayed, even felt the emotional power of certain retreats or spiritual experiences. But you went away to college, found little said about that life, and a wholly different culture and life instead around you. Later you graduated, began to work, to live what seemed to be—at least according to what you have seen on television and movies—a normal life of a young adult in America. You avoided the extreme vices and debauchery of the party crowd, the night life, those who wasted away in sex and drugs. But you subscribed to the popular worldview reflected in television, magazines, movies, and advertisements, common among most people your age: find someone you love and marry; find a job that you like and that pays well, and start to make money; get a house, nice cars, nice things—televisions, music, clothes, food; take vacations, enjoying the pleasures that life has to offer; and have some friends with which you can share those pleasures, and turn to in times of difficulty or sorrow. That is why you are working after all. And if you have a child or two: provide for them, that is, give them the same pleasures you work for, and the opportunity to one day make money, fall in love, make friends, have a home, and enjoy life with their friends and families, finally on their own too. Maybe you’ve even started thinking about retirement: getting out from under debt; enjoying the luxury of no longer having to work; traveling and taking vacations; visiting friends and family. This is indeed what we have been taught to envision as a life well lived.

But it’s hard to see where the Gospel, where Christianity fits into any of this.

For some, “God” is a safety, something to use to cover your base, to appeal to when things are tough or miserable, with the hope that “God” will make things better if we ask, since he “loves us” and “wants us to be happy”. Ultimately, belief in some “God” out there ensures the truth that everything will work out in the end. And in a sort of vague, back-of-the-mind way, we occasionally think about, or tell our kids, that when people die, they go to Heaven where they will be able to do everything they wanted to, but just didn’t have enough time or power to do here on earth, as well as see all their loved ones who have died too—as long as they are “good”, that is, which means pretty much everyone except for murderers.

But that is not the Gospel, that is not Christianity, at all. The God of Jesus Christ is not like this at all; and if that is the extant of our “faith”, then we do not really know him, or his good news.

The God that the world, that most Americans talk about (if they do at all), is a pagan god. He has some of the names and trappings of the God of Jesus Christ, but he really is not the same. He is a sort of benevolent power that made the world at some point, but otherwise only intervenes now and then to help “good people” get what they want, to alleviate suffering, and to make everything work out in the end (although no one has any idea how he does this). And, like all pagan gods, this god indeed only exists in our imaginations.

The reality is far more fearsome (and wonderful, but the “fearsome” comes first).

The reality is, that our culture—all of television, magazines, movies, stores, advertising, all of it—wants to forget the one central, indubitable fact of our existence: its contingency. In other words: we will die. It will be when we do not want it, in a way we would not prefer it, and more than anything, it will take away what is most precious to us: our life, and our connection with this world. In an instant: all gone. All that will be left of us will be what people remember, and what we have made—and given a hundred years or so, that too will be gone and forgotten. As far as we can tell, as much scientific evidence that we have, there is nothing after death. (This is why so many scientists are materialists and believe death to be the absolute death: because scientific evidence to the contrary is hard to come by, and unconvincing.) Furthermore, much of life, much more than our culture would have us know, is suffering. Instead of perpetual beauty, nothing is more certain than the fact that we will grow old, slow down, lose the beauty of our life, lose our smooth skin, our muscles, our hair, and gradually, get more sick, more often. We will even gradually lose our memory and consciousness. Terrifying, really. And more terrifying illness and tragedy can strike at any time: accident, cancer, heart attack, paralysis, disease. Beyond this, the hopes we have for success, for pleasure, contentment, enjoyment, will never work out as we like. We will never make enough money, maintain our friendships, keep our families totally together, perfectly protect our loved ones, and avoid material suffering. And friends and family, even our closest loved ones, will never understand us or love us as we really hope they will—they will let us down, and some will surely hurt us, perhaps severely. This truth of life—that it is hard, short, and full of much suffering, and that the wicked often prosper, while the virtuous suffer—was known both to the philosophers in antiquity, and to the Jews before Christ (in fact, the whole book of Ecclesiastes in the Old Testament is about this point).

Pagan culture accepted this, for it was all they knew, and gave a word to it, “fate”, which was not meant to inspire, gladden, or give hope. On the contrary, its sole purpose was to underscore the teaching, don’t aim too high, for you will surely end up disappointed. The afterlife for them was a dull, dark, and sad place.

Today, we have allowed the culture, the media, to obscure the terrible inevitability of death from us. Like taking a test, but at the last minute having the teacher throw away the answer sheet, or playing a sports game, and at the last minute erasing the score and calling a draw, or falling in love, but right before uniting with the beloved having them disappear—so too does life seem in the face of the inevitable fact of death.

This is indeed what it means to be a human on this earth, as far as we can know on our own: lost, waiting for the inevitable misery and certain death, without hope or happiness beyond the fleeting moment. For in the next moment, it all can be taken away, whether by bad luck, or eventual death. In summary, what our culture is lying to us about, what at all costs it is trying to keep us from remembering, is that we are unhappy, and afraid. That’s the bad, but very real and true, news.

But there is good news. It isn’t cheap news, or easy news, but it is good, and it is certain: death does not have to be the end, and real joy, happiness, and peace, is possible. This news came in a small way and in a small place: it began when Abraham heard “God” speaking to him, telling him to pick up all his things, his family, his tribe, and move thousands of miles to a new land. Eventually his descendents learned the name of this “God”, and that he is in fact the only true God, that all other gods are illusions. And his descendents learned about a promise this God made, a promise for eventual unending prosperity, peace, and happiness—although they were very unclear about what it meant, since none of them saw it in their lifetimes. But they also learned that this God is a jealous God, that he cares about how they act, morally, and he fiercely cares that they have faith in him alone, trust him—not possessions, not fortune, not their own abilities and power—alone, and ultimately, obey him first and foremost. They learned that this God was a God of mercy and faithfulness, but that he also hated sin and punished the wicked—in short, that fearing him was the beginning of wisdom.

Eventually, in the fullness of time, these descendents learned that the old law God gave them could not save them, but despite that God had a greater hope in store for them than earthly prosperity and security, and he would give them a new power so that they could love him perfectly. This God wanted to save them from their wickedness—for even with God’s law they had never been able to stop being wicked—and then bring them into his own divine life, in a mystical way, beginning here, but even more fully after death. For this, God gave them a new law, the law of the Gospel, and the gift of his own power within them, so that they might not love the world but instead be holy and love God alone. And he gave them this power through his Son, who took on a human body and soul as his own and died for our wickedness, as the perfect sacrifice to make up for our offense against God. And then his Son Jesus rose from the dead and sent his Holy Spirit, who gave these descendents the Church, a home wherein they would find the fulfillment of those promises God made years before.

And the great news is, death is not the end! We can hope for joy, for happiness that is secure, for peace. But like before, this gift of hope was to be a covenant, and these descendents, us Christians, in order to share in the gift of the Spirit, must have faith and obey God’s law. On our own we cannot do this, because of our weakness, but God gave us the Church to provide us with the source of his grace to keep us strong and secure, in order that we might persevere in faith until death, and work out our salvation by becoming a new kind of person. And this perseverance will be a battle, as evil powers and demons will try to persuade us to disobey and not follow God’s law. Therefore, we should learn to fight and by virtue grow in faith, hope, and love, growing in holiness, becoming saints, imitators of Jesus, living against the world, the flesh, and the devil, living instead according to the Spirit. For in the end, we will be judged by God: those who have persevered in the Spirit and followed God’s law will spend eternity with God in heaven; those who have not will spend eternity being punished in hell.

Can I bring this back to our everyday language, to where we are today? Back to the way of the world. What we learn from the Gospel is that life is not about success, enjoyment, accomplishment, friends, family, passing it on. Those things are not always bad, but independent of God’s plan, they surely will be. Nothing but holiness will make us happy. Without holiness, not a good job, lots of money, great vacations, our spouse or our family, none of it matters. And not 10% or 50% holiness, holiness on Sunday mornings or some of the week, but striving for 100% all of the time holiness. Which means, loving God first above all else, and only loving anything else because of our love of God and his will. We will only work, make money, marry, have a family, in such a way that leads to holiness. Which means, we will not make false idols, and give the love and honor that God alone deserves to any created, earthly thing. And when we screw up, which we will, it means not despairing, but turning again to God’s mercy, and trying again, remembering that God loves us even when we fail, even if he wants us not to fail.

It also means, fighting our inclination to sin, the temptations of the world, and the attacks of the devil, since these are our main obstacles to loving God foremost. Which practically means, detachment from pleasures, honors, success, popularity, even preferring to be humble, meek, simple, ignored, poor, and despised, if that means that we can be assured of being even closer to God. It means, not first working for a career or worldly success, but first discerning and choosing a vocation, and putting that first. It means praying as much as we are able, really making prayer the most important activity in our lives, reading Scripture daily, going to Mass every Sunday, and even during the week whenever we can, going to confession frequently, only receiving Communion when we are in the right state, talking about the Gospel to our friends and family, and teaching it to our children. It means talking in ways that are pure and reverent and respectful. It means dressing simply and modestly. It means sharing our possessions, not making them important in our lives, being detached about money, giving not just when it is easy but until it hurts, trusting that God will provide. It means treating sex as the most precious, special, sacred thing on earth, and talking about it that way, not with vulgar or abusive language, and being careful how we give in to and respond to our own sexual desires, what we look at, think about, say, and having sex in the right way, not primarily for my own pleasure, but in order to love my spouse and have children. It means loving our neighbor, not just our friends, treating all people as Christ has treated us. It means forgiving others without expecting them to make amends, being gentle and merciful to not just our friends but our enemies too. It means fighting laziness and sloth, eating modestly, resisting anger and envy, not holding grudges or seeking revenge, not calling attention to ourselves and seeking honor and fame. Lastly it means remembering, everyday, that God will judge all of us; and without faith, and persevering in holiness, there is no hope of heaven.

Finally, holiness means coming to know the God who loves us with a fierce and jealous love, who will never stop pursuing each one of us, and providentially guides the events of our life so that all things work toward this uniting with God. It means living the reality of heaven now, by grace and the sacraments, sharing the joy and delight that comes from the knowledge that we are perfectly known and loved. It means actually experiencing the awesome giving and receiving of this love-union with God right now. It means every time we go to Mass, stepping into the reality of heaven and seeing and experiencing that heavenly joy of all the angels and saints right now. As Pope Benedict put it:

You will not be afraid any longer to lose your freedom, because you will live it fully by giving it away in love. You will no longer be attached to material goods, because you will feel within you the joy of sharing them. You will cease to be sad with the sadness of the world, but you will feel sorrow at evil and rejoice at goodness, especially for mercy and forgiveness.

If all this sounds strange and even crazy, that is because the world really doesn’t know the Gospel. If it sounds hard and a bit depressing, that’s because we’ve grown up surrounded by the lies of the culture, about what is beautiful and enjoyable and worth doing.

In fact, there is nothing else in the world that brings joy, peace, and excitement that is deep and lasting, but holiness. Nothing else. And Jesus said, his yoke is easy and his burden light. With grace, all things are possible. That’s why we have so many saints to look at—not primarily to help us find lost things—but to inspire us by their example, to let us know that it is possible to live this way. And that is why we have the Church, the sacraments, the help of so many means of grace, to help us to depend more on God’s power than our own. It is possible to live this way, and it is never too late to start over and try again; to abandon mediocrity (since God said he will spit out the lukewarm), and stake everything on holiness, seeking above all else, to be a saint.

Pope Benedict on the Trinity and certain disputed questions in theology

From Pope Benedict's homily for the Trinity Sunday Liturgy:

Today we contemplate the Most Holy Trinity as it was made know to us by Jesus. He revealed to us that God is love “not in the unity of a single person, but in the Trinity of a single substance” (Preface): the Trinity is Creator and merciful Father; Only Begotten Son, eternal Wisdom incarnate, dead and risen for us; it is finally the Holy Spirit, who moves everything, cosmos and history, toward the final recapitulation. Three Persons who are one God because the Father is love, the Son is love, the Spirit is love. God is love and only love, most pure, infinite and eternal love. The Trinity does not live in a splendid solitude, but is rather inexhaustible font of life that unceasingly gives itself and communicates itself.

We can in some way intuit this, whether we observe the macro-universe: our earth, the planets, the stars, the galaxies; or the micro-universe: cells, atoms, elementary particles. The “name” of the Most Holy Trinity is in a certain way impressed upon everything that exists, because everything that exists, down to the least particle, is a being in relation, and thus God-relation shines forth, ultimately creative Love shines forth. All comes from love, tends toward love, and is moved by love, naturally, according to different grades of consciousness and freedom. “O Lord, our Lord, / how wondrous is your name over all the earth!” (Psalm 8:2) -- the Psalmist exclaims. In speaking of the “name” the Bible indicates God himself, his truest identity; an identity that shines forth in the whole of creation, where every being, by the very fact of existing and by the “fabric” of which it is made, refers to a transcendent Principle, to eternal and infinite Life that gives itself, in a word: to Love. “In him,” St. Paul says, on the Areopagus in Athens, “we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28). The strongest proof that we are made in the image of the Trinity is this: only love makes us happy, because we live in relation, and we live to love and be loved. Using an analogy suggested by biology, we could say the human “genome” is profoundly imprinted with the Trinity, of God-Love.

The Pope seems to implicitly comment on several theological questions in this text (which he has in fact dwelt on in several of his earlier writings, especially in Introduction to Christianity and The God of Jesus Christ--nothing new here):

1. Nothing of the Trinity can be inferred by God's actions ad extra. (This is the classic immanent/economic Trinity question.) Some currents of Thomism hold that God relates to the world only as one substance, and if we can say that certain missions can be appropriated to the persons, this is more a matter of fittingness, rather than each Divine Person having a necessarily distinct role. If the Trinity is known, it is only because of strict revelation. Inferences from creation (the Victorinian, Bonaventurian traditions, to mention a couple) are illusory: nothing of the nature of the Trinity can be inferred from creation. Only fitting analogies can be offered. To quote Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange:

We can know nothing about God naturally except through created effects, as was shown above, and the natural principles which are known from a consideration of created being. But from these created effects, at least those that are natural, we cannot arrive at the knowledge of the Trinity because these effects proceed from the creative power or God's omnipotence, which is common to the entire Trinity and, like the divine intelligence and the divine will, pertains to the unity of the essence and not to the distinction of the persons. Therefore it is impossible to come to the knowledge of the Trinity by natural reason.

2. Man being in the image and likeness of God is to be understood in the sense of, by man's intellectual nature, he is created a spiritual being, like God who is pure spirit; it is fitting to see a likeness between the processions of man's mind and the processions in the Trinity; it is not fitting to see a likeness in man's body or relations with others, and the Trinity. Since creation is a work ad extra, it is done by the one Divine substance. We cannot speak of Persons creating, unless by fitting appropriation. As a creation, the Trinity cannot be inferred from man's intellectual nature, except by fittingness: this is where the analogies from man's intellectual nature come in. Furthermore, all in God is one (simple) save for the distinction of Persons (relations of origin); man's relationality is nothing like the Trinity, as he is distinct from others because of a common form individuated in different matter. Man is in the image of God because of his intellect, not his relations with others. He is created in the Divine Image because, like God, he can know and love, unlike other creatures (except angels).

[For the time being I'll say, in Thomas this is unclear; cf. ST I.93.5]

Faith, Obama, and Notre Dame

Much has been said about President Obama's speech. In particular, I think this was an exemplary instance of just how much language has been corrupted (think Orwell and Percy). But at this point I simply want to call attention to a few lines of speech near the end, where the President tries to teach on the uncertain nature of faith. There could be a real problem there. Depending on how you take what he said, the President either stakes out a position contrary to the basic worldview of Christianity, or he demonstrates a line of subtle thinking remarkably similar to none other than the Pope, in his earlier role as a university professor. (Hat tip to Ryan Herr.)

The President actually makes several theological assertions:

And in this world of competing claims about what is right and what is true, have confidence in the values with which you've been raised and educated. Be unafraid to speak your mind when those values are at stake. Hold firm to your faith and allow it to guide you on your journey. In other words, stand as a lighthouse.

But remember, too, that you can be a crossroads. Remember, too, that the ultimate irony of faith is that it necessarily admits doubt. It's the belief in things not seen. It's beyond our capacity as human beings to know with certainty what God has planned for us or what He asks of us. And those of us who believe must trust that His wisdom is greater than our own.

And this doubt should not push us away our faith. But it should humble us. It should temper our passions, cause us to be wary of too much self-righteousness. It should compel us to remain open and curious and eager to continue the spiritual and moral debate that began for so many of you within the walls of Notre Dame. And within our vast democracy, this doubt should remind us even as we cling to our faith to persuade through reason, through an appeal whenever we can to universal rather than parochial principles, and most of all through an abiding example of good works and charity and kindness and service that moves hearts and minds.

The Catholic tradition has a different understanding of faith. First, from the Catechism:

[156] What moves us to believe is not the fact that revealed truths appear as true and intelligible in the light of our natural reason: we believe "because of the authority of God himself who reveals them, who can neither deceive nor be deceived".

[157] Faith is certain. It is more certain than all human knowledge because it is founded on the very word of God who cannot lie. To be sure, revealed truths can seem obscure to human reason and experience, but "the certainty that the divine light gives is greater than that which the light of natural reason gives." "Ten thousand difficulties do not make one doubt."

And to quote just one of many examples from St. Thomas:

two of the intellectual virtues are about contingent matter, viz. prudence and art; to which faith is preferable in point of certitude, by reason of its matter, since it is about eternal things, which never change, whereas the other three intellectual virtues, viz. wisdom, knowledge, and understanding, are about necessary things.... But it must be observed that wisdom, science and understanding may be taken in two ways: first, as intellectual virtues, according to the Philosopher; secondly, for the gifts of the Holy Ghost.

If we consider them in the first way, we must note that certitude can be looked at in two ways. First, on the part of its cause, and thus a thing which has a more certain cause, is itself more certain. On this way faith is more certain than those three virtues, because it is founded on the Divine truth, whereas the aforesaid three virtues are based on human reason. Secondly, certitude may be considered on the part of the subject, and thus the more a man's intellect lays hold of a thing, the more certain it is. On this way, faith is less certain, because matters of faith are above the human intellect, whereas the objects of the aforesaid three virtues are not. Since, however, a thing is judged simply with regard to its cause, but relatively, with respect to a disposition on the part of the subject, it follows that faith is more certain simply, while the others are more certain relatively, i.e. for us. Likewise if these three be taken as gifts received in this present life, they are related to faith as to their principle which they presuppose: so that again, in this way, faith is more certain.

To wit: faith is certain and without error; by it we believe what God has revealed not because reason perceives its truth but because God himself has said so, and does not lie; faith is the most certain kind of knowledge, objectively, because of its object, but subjectively feels less certain since our minds cannot penetrate its mysteries. So, we can know that something is true without knowing exactly how it is true.

On one reading, against what the President said, it is in our capacity to know with certainty what God has revealed; faith necessarily does not admit doubt; faith is the most universal and least parochial principle. Therefore, on some things dialogue is not possible, debate is useless, and discussion without merit. Certainly the persuasion of reason is more immediately convincing and should be sought whenever available: nonetheless, revelation proper is about matters that transcend reason. And revelation does teach several things about the human person and his destiny. And we know these things with certainty, without the possibility of error, by faith.

But there is another plausible reading that was alerted to me by a reader of this blog in a draft I wrote: the President was talking of the subjective experience of doubt that both believer and unbeliever alike must share. Pope Benedict, when a mere university professor, gave a series of lectures later published as Introduction to Christianity. In the beginning of these lectures he addresses the dilemma of belief today, or rather, the difficulty of proclaiming the Gospel in a world used to doubt, skepticism, and scientific positivism.

Ratzinger cites the story of Kierkegaard's that Harvey Cox tells, of a clown who has to run into a village and alert them that a fire is approaching from the country. No one believes him of course. Like the clown, the apostle just isn't taken seriously today. So is theology merely a matter of taking off the makeup and assuming the pose of the spectator? Well, certainly the apostle's own situation is not that different from the modern agnostic: both are threatened by moments of intense uncertainty and a lack of any real security. Like Mother Teresa assailed by moments of intense doubt. Or, in the example Ratzinger provides, like the Jesuit missionary in the beginning of The Satin Slipper, tied to a mast from his sunken ship, drifting on the ocean alone. "The cross fastened to nothing, drifting over the abyss." Indeed, sharing Claudel's conception, Ratzinger argues that the believer's faith must be perfected over an ocean of nihilism, doubt, and despair. Faith can exist nowhere else. But, and this is key, the unbeliever has no superior vantage point. He shares the same predicament. Science offers him no comfort against that ocean. He is plagued by the same possibility of uncertainty. Positivism requires faith as does Theism, as it is only as true and certain as the current amount of evidence dictates. This angst, if you will, is the corollary of Popper's insistence on falsifiability. As Ratzinger puts it:

Just as the believer knows himself to be constantly threatened by unbelief, which he must experience as a continual temptation, so for the unbeliever faith remains a temptation and a threat to his apparently permanently closed world. In short there is no escape from the dilemma of being a man. Anyone who makes up his mind to evade the uncertainty of belief will have to experience the uncertainty of unbelief, which can never finally eliminate for certain the possibility that belief may after all be the truth. It is not until belief is rejected that its unrejectability becomes evident.

In sum, there is something that links both the believer and unbeliever, something they share in common: the experience of doubt. Now when I was in school a few years ago, we had a little debate about these passages (and some others) in this book, and whether it was indeed compatible with orthodoxy. What we reached, if I remember correctly, is that Ratzinger is attending to the subjective experience of believing, which can indeed feel doubt. But, he unjustly neglects the other half of this experience, the certainty that the believer experiences because of the formal object of faith: I know this is true, indubitably, because God himself has revealed it, who cannot deceive nor be deceived. I never believed in the first place because what I believed made sense to me, but because I believed the signs that pointed to the reality that God himself had spoken. And this comes back to a point Ratzinger makes at the end of the first part of those lectures: we do not believe in the articles of faith, so much as we believe in a You. It is the encounter with the man Jesus, who reveals a love and a gift that is free from any threat of fading away.

In light of the points President Obama raised, I would defer again on the emphasis that St. Thomas provides: the reason that *why we believe* is not up for debate, cannot be threatened by science or compromised by the feeling of doubt. I did not decide to believe because of debate, because of dialogue, because I was argued into it. I believe because I have encountered the risen Christ, Jesus the man who reveals the Father as his Son. And because I have experienced the Holy Spirit and his love, and this something I cannot doubt just as I cannot doubt my own thinking.

I would disagree with Ratzinger, if that indeed is what he is asserting: no, today it is just as important to emphasize the certainty of faith, as it is the feeling of doubt we share with the unbeliever. For the unbeliever and I do not share the same position epistemologically: there is a certainty faith provides that is greater and more perfect than even the most sure of rational knowledge cannot provide. In fact, perhaps it is more important to emphasize this certainty of faith, in this age of skepticism today, without ignoring the reality of the feeling of doubt in the mode of the dark night, Claudel, etc. But as great as any feeling of doubt and despair I may be tempted to, I know in whom I have believed.

In other words, I don't think existentialism should have the last word here, nor do I think it is the best position at the end of the day. I think the Christian realism of John and Augustine and Thomas is a better stance and in fact more appealing to the modern man at the end of the day. This is why an approach such an Giussani's is so appealing. It works not so much, if I understand it, from a shared existential doubt, as from a position of certainty: I have met Christ, encountered him in my experience. I bear the evidence myself of a changed life, of a hope that the world does not know. Come and see why this experience is different from any the world can point to.

We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life— ²this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us— ³we declare to you what we have seen and heard so that you also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ.

Torture and incommensurable traditions

With more and more coming out about the use of torture by the U.S. government and armed forces, the morality of this issue is making the rounds once again. The usual sides are positioning. There isn't much to add in the argument itself beyond what a number of bloggers, including Tom at Disputations, Mark Shea, Daniel Larison, Zippy, and others have pointed out. To me, this issue more than any other seems to clarify which moral tradition one belongs to. Now, apparently, Deal Hudson is entertaining joining those who put RNC loyalty before natural law and the teaching of the Church.

What occurred to me in reading Larison's recent thoughts on the matter was that the legitimization of torture under the Jack Ryan ethic is the dark side of the liberal tradition. I'm talking about MacIntyre and Three Rival Versions here. It's the desire for a rational ethics in the Kantian sense, a universally understood philosophy, advocating one universal rule of justice and right that preempts all disagreement. Peace and the cessation of all conflict--which was of course judged to be religious in origin--was the goal that the proponents of this tradition in its glory days expected. But when faced with the hard facts of reality, the only conclusion that can remain within that tradition is consequentialism--and that's pretty much what it has become (the only Kantians left are in movies and comic books). There's much that could be unpacked there, but that's not my point in calling this to attention.

My point is that the conservative defense of torture, which a surprising number (if not, majority?) of American Christians share, follows from the principles of the liberal (in the sense of Hobbes, Locke, Hume, and Kant) tradition of modernity. (Notably, as does free-market capitalism, which conservatives defend as fiercely as they do torture; which makes sense, as they presuppose the same view of the person and society). The Aristotelian-catholic tradition works from a wholly different set of principles. In other words: according to Alasdair MacIntyre, a debate or an attempt to argue for the truth of torture between these traditions is impossible, as the traditions are incommensurable. As Larison put it, they work within two wholly different (despite superficial appearances of similarity due to language) moral universes. All that can be done is for the Aristotelian-catholic tradition to try to point out the incoherence of the the rival tradition's set of principles. To me, it seems this is the task at hand.

Have you been reading Disputations?

Well, you should. It's always been a fantastic blog; and now Tom has been continuing a series of posts on moral object, intention, and circumstances, which is very important and in need of serious reminding. Suffice it to say: much of the debates on torture, stem-cell research, war, and abortion need the clarification he is providing.

(Although I think most conservatives really don't care about determining the truth of moral rectitude, as they are surreptitiously sentimentalists and aesthetes when it comes to morality. Not that you could ever say that, or rather, be heard if you did...)

And it goes to show: St. Thomas Aquinas! Antedating modern moral arguments by 700 years, but still more clear and helpful than all the rest, despite his misleading antiquity!

calling things as they are

The Superior General of the C.S.C., Fr. Hugh Cleary, penned a letter addressed to President Obama, concerning his invitation to Notre Dame, etc. Much has been said on this. To me, the issue was never really that obfuscatory. Catholic universities have long invited dubious political figures to give addresses and receive honorary degrees. The bishops protested this. But no one listens much to the bishops, particularly universities. Catholic universities continue to invite such persons, and continue to ignore bishops.

In short, we should have stopped expecting Catholic universities to be organs of the Church long ago. Under their present constitutions and governing structures, they really just aren't. When University officials argue that it is important that a university present an "open forum" where "all points can be presented" they demonstrate an implicit preference for a modern notion of inquiry and education. It reminds me of J.P. Meier's introduction to A Marginal Jew where he argues that the best way to uncover the real Jesus is to put a Catholic, a Protestant, a Jewish, and an agnostic scholar in the basement of Harvard Library--only whatever they can agree can be retained as truly "objective" conclusions on the subject. I'm guessing the people behind the decision to invite President Obama to Notre Dame would find little wrong with that methodology.

But what I wanted to comment on instead was a bit from Fr. Cleary's essay/letter:

President Obama, you are superbly versed in the issues of our day. I have no doubt that your policy convictions are grounded in rigorous study and that all your important decisions are supported by your conscience. I am confident that you are likewise well versed in the Catholic faith conviction that human life begins at conception. Therefore, through this open letter, I would like to take advantage of your appearance at Notre Dame to ask you to rethink, through prayerful wrestling with your own conscience, your stated positions on the vital “life issues” of our day, particularly in regard to abortion, embryonic stem cell research and your position on the Freedom of Choice Act before Congress.

Abortion and other similar issues are indeed often obfuscated under the mirage of faith. Nancy Pelosi and Joseph Biden, those astute Catholics, made similar confusion last year when they spoke about abortion. On the contrary:

The evil of abortion is not a matter of faith.

Sadly, the language used by the Superior General above echoes the same confusion. Abortion is actually a rather simple matter. Prayer certainly is not necessary to ascertain its wrongness. Nor is this a matter for "wrestling" with one's conscience (whatever actual act that metaphor is meant to describe). It is a simple matter of knowledge of biology, surgical procedure, and a little philosophy. All you have to know is three things:

1. All animal life begins when the sperm and ovum fuse to create a new cell with a new DNA complex, beginning a new organism. The same goes for human beings. Nothing more needs to be added to this new organism for it to grow into its mature state. Furthermore, there is no biological (that is to say, genetic or taxonomic) difference between a two month old fetus and a one month old baby. For mammals, neither the fetus nor the baby, by the way, can survive without its mother. Every freshman biology student knows this.

2. Abortion is a surgical procedure which involves removing that still living and growing new organism from the protective enclosure of the uterus in order to terminate its life. Everyone knows this.

3. The embryonic organism is an individual of the human species. At least in the United States, we distinguish between human animals and all other animals, by means of rights, privileges, responsibilities, laws, and a host of other obvious markers, all following from the basic apprehension that the difference between the two is one of kind and not merely degree, and seemingly, and an almost infinite difference. This difference has something to do with having minds and free will, which. it is almost universally agreed upon, animals do not. In other words, the human organism has a dignity that is incommensurate with any other organism; furthermore, one of the consequences of that dignity is that it is wrong to unjustly terminate the life of the human organism. Nearly everyone knows this.

Faith has nothing to do with these apprehensions. They are all easily evident. They are conclusions of reason, of science and ethics. So, when Fr. Cleary says to the President, "I have no doubt that your policy convictions are grounded in rigorous study and that all your important decisions are supported by your conscience," I am not sure what he means, unless he means to contradict the obvious. The President either has not studied much, or is maliciously ignoring the truth. For a President, either alternative is a violation of conscience.

And when Fr. Cleary mentions "the Catholic faith conviction that human life begins at conception" I am not sure what article of faith he is talking about. For there is no such article of faith. We don't believe that life begins at conception. We know it! We believe that Christ rose from the dead. That is a conviction of faith. We know (as all freshman biology students do) that animal life begins at conception. And that the fertilized ovum is not a different species, but is a primitive individual of the species homo sapiens. No faith there. That is a conclusion of science. And one should not kill innocent human life is also a conclusion of reason, one of ethics. And it is a conclusion that we still hold in the United States. Therefore, President Obama either is as dumb as a doorknob, or is maliciously ignoring plain truths of biology and ethics.* And it seems to me, Notre Dame should not go about inviting individuals of either case to give addresses and receive honorary degrees.

*There is actually a third alternative, less rhetorically powerful: he has been blinded by his own complicity in the quest for power and influence which can plague politicians, and has actually psychologically convinced himself of something he should otherwise reject. Cognitive dissonance, etc. In other words, the appetites can at times blind the intellect and impede the will.

The Pope and Condoms in Africa

Besides an excuse to link to Howie Day's rousing cover of Toto's "Africa", the current brouhaha over the Pope's comments about passing out condoms in Africa deserve further comment. Particularly this:

One cannot overcome the problem with the distribution of condoms. On the contrary, they increase the problem. The solution can only be a double one: first, a humanization of sexuality, that is, a spiritual human renewal that brings with it a new way of behaving with one another; second, a true friendship even and especially with those who suffer, and a willingness to make personal sacrifices and to be with the suffering. And these are factors that help and that result in real and visible progress.

The real problem, as the Pope sees, is too common casual and recreational sex.

The way I explained this to my students--why it is wrong and counter-productive to advise "protection" even if you *know* the person will have sex--is as follows:

1. Condom rates are notoriously, and incredibly, exaggerated (as in all things pharmaceutical, a lot of this has to do with money). Sex is usually messy, often frantic, and condom efficacy depends on a clinical use and application, particularly in how it is put on, how sex is performed, and how the condom is removed, not to mention a careful inspection of the integrity of the condom before use, an integrity which can be compromised by a variety of environmental factors while the condom is still in its wrapper or carried in pocket/hand, etc. Furthermore, conditions in Africa are often less than sanitary, because of poverty and a lack of supplies and industrial hygienic capability, further increasing the likelihood of STD transmission in sex.

In other words, passing out condoms, particularly in the way this is usually done, gives a false sense of confidence.

2. The glory of God is man fully alive, and the life of man is the vision of God. Which I take to mean, the life of the soul is more critical to the viability of the human organism than the integrity of the body (if one had to choose), and if contraception threatens the former (which I admit is usually in contention, therefore perhaps begging the question), than it is more important to counsel the person not to sin. Sin is *always* the greater concern, and always more of an immediate and abiding threat to the viability of the human organism than disease.

3. How can one know, especially from a pastoral perspective, and the obligation to preach the truth and admonish sinners, that a person *will certainly* be having sex? Aren't we dealing with free persons? Could not a personal appeal, if intelligently and sensitively made, possibly convince them NOT to have sex sinfully? Isn't that the job of the Church?

4. Finally, telling someone that contraception is wrong, but then that *if* they are going to have sex, well use a condom, is like telling a classroom of students:

"Cheating is wrong, and a sin! BUT! If you are going to cheat, then by all means, cheat in such a way that you will not likely get caught. And furthermore, let me tell you first the most effective ways to cheat before you go and take this test (which, knowing you all, you will probably cheat on)."

I think there is an expression or fine idiom somewhere (possibly in Italian) about saying something out of one side of your mouth, and something else out of the other.